Across the Widest Ocean

Chapter Two: Visitors at Dinner

It was a few days before Margery and her father could eat dinner together at the table without feeling smothered by emotion. The house seemed so quiet now, so empty.

Her father had decided that he alone would observe the mourning period, and as soon as Margery tried to argue he told her Kathleen would have hated to see her in black all the time. He then instructed her to go put on her pale violet work dress for the rest of the day.

Usually, he didn't care what Margery wore. He always said she made everything look beautiful. But this... she knew was a special request, so she did as she was told. She knew his reasoning behind it.

He was tired of all the darkness. The more sorrow there was, the less of Kathleen there seemed to be. Margery decided that she would ignore the whispers of society. She would wear the most vibrant colors if her father wished, if only to bring him some tiny comfort.

And so here they sat, on either end of a long table, eating dinner together.

The only sounds that could be heard was the sounds of cutlery against plates, and the quiet clinking of glasses being refilled. There was no chatting, no maids giggling over the latest gossip just outside the door, just quiet.

Margery regretted not eating in her room. This felt all... wrong. It was as if the man on the other side of the table didn't even know her. As if they were simply strangers sharing the same meal.

"Captain? Miss?"

Both heads whipped up to meet the gaze of Grace, the head maid. She had been there since Margery was a baby, and had become almost a mother figure to her and Kathleen after mother passed. Father was also very fond of Grace, she was kind and quiet. Always willing to listen.

"What is it, Grace?" Margery asked.

"There's a gentleman at the door with his son. He said that he was a friend of yours, Captain?"

"What did he call himself?" Margery's father asked, standing up and placing his napkin beside his plate.

"He called himself by some title, Captain. But said his name was Conrad. Sir—"

"Sir Fredrick Conrad, Baronet." He interrupted. "Here? At my house?"

Grace nodded, looking a bit confused. "Yes, Captain. That's who he said he was."

Margery looked at her father, just as confused as Grace was. The name Conrad was familiar, but she didn't know exactly who the man was. She assumed he was one of father's business partners, but she'd never heard that he had a title. Or a son.

"See them to the parlor." Her father said quickly, straightening up his cuffs. "Margery, do whatever it is women do to make themselves presentable for guests— why didn't he send word he was coming?"

Margery did not question him further, instead retreating to her room by way of a back staircase. Her fingers danced over the rich mahogany of the bannister, carved with vines and leaves. She and Kathleen used to slide down it when they were young.

She shook off the memories and hurried to her wardrobe in her room, selecting a deep green dress that she might wear if she were visiting her friend down the road, Mary. Sweet Mary, she was everything Margery wasn't. Quiet, content, and perfectly happy to spend her entire life in their quiet little town, living a quiet little life.

Margery would have found that miserable, but Mary loved the idea, however strange it may seem. And Margery was loathe to do anything to upset the girl, so she simply sat and listened while her friend spoke of such things in a quiet tone.

She checked herself in the large mirror in the corner, taking a deep breath. She had no idea who these people were, but she was expected to be polite and cordial to them. And her father obviously held them in high esteem, so she would do the same.

Taking a deep breath, she left her room and went down the back staircase she had climbed moments before. She could hear a conversation being held in the parlor, and she stepped in.

The two strange men were on their feet immediately, as if they had been waiting for her. The elder, Sir Fredrick, Margery assumed, stood tall and proud. He had dark almost black curly hair that was styled just so, a strong jawline, sharp nose, and defined cheekbones. His eyes were a striking shade of blue, and he seemed to see right through her skin into her very bones.

A younger man stood next to him, and he looked to be just a tad older than Margery. This must be his son, she thought. He had inherited his father's blue eyes and jaw, but there was a softness about his cheeks and nose that he must have gotten from his mother. He held himself in the same manner that his father did, tall and proud, but his eyes were far more gentle.

"Fredrick, Albert, meet my daughter Margery."

Margery inclined her head, a small smile gracing her lips. "A pleasure to meet you, gentlemen."

"The pleasure is ours." Sir Fredrick said, his accent telling her straight away that he was from England. England! What was he doing here, then?

"I was telling your father," the Baronet continued, "that we had hoped to make this trip a pleasant surprise. But were shocked to discover our timing was as ill scheduled as your sister's untimely death. You have our deepest condolences."

Margery nodded in thanks, unsure of what to say.

"I told Fredrick that his visit was about as ill timed as rain after a drought." Margery's father cut in. "It is good to see an old friend, especially now."

Margery noticed that Albert stayed quiet as the men talked, looking at the floor for the most part. He seemed to be very out of place. He fidgeted with his gloves and looked as if he was lost in thought. Margery knew that feeling well. Sometimes she would become so wrapped up in thoughts and observations that she—

"James, I do believe we're boring the young people." Sir Fredrick chuckled, nodding to Margery, and then to Albert.

"Quite right." Her father agreed. "Fredrick, where are you and your son staying while you are here? Surely not at the local inn."

"Well—"

"Absolutely not." Margery's father tapped his cane on the floor. "You'll not stay in that drafty house. You'll both become ill your first night. You'll stay here with us."

Albert looked up quickly, uncertainty in his eyes. He wasn't... afraid to stay here, was he? Perhaps it was simply the new surroundings. Maybe he was shy and didn't like being around people he did not know.

By the time she had finished her musings on why Albert looked surprised, her father was waving them off, telling Margery to show the younger man around.

Now Margery had never been very social when it came to boys. She thought about the boring, uppity, self absorbed young that usually resided at the events and parties she attended. She would sooner throw herself into the lake on their property than spend an evening with one of them.

But Albert seemed... different. His quietness alone would have set him apart from the other boys. Perhaps she could come to enjoy his company.

"Of course, father." Margery said. "This way."

Albert glanced at his father before following Margery out of the room. She noticed that as soon as they crossed the threshold to the point that Sir Fredrick couldn't see them, Albert visibly relaxed. His shoulders slumped and he seemed to breathe easier. Had it been that he was nervous in the presence of their fathers? Or was it that he was just relived to be out of awkward situation?

"I'm Margery." She said experimentally. "You're Albert, correct?"

Albert nodded. "I am. A pleasure to meet you, miss Villas."

Margery shook her head. "Just Margery, please. No need for formalities here." She smiled, trying to lure him out of his shell. She had been correct about his being shy, from what she's seeing now.

He nodded once. "Alright then, Margery."

And with that, they walked away from the doorway and towards the dining room.