Pursuing Miss Hall by Karen Thornell

Chapter Three

“Margaret! Margaret Hall!”

Meg looked up from her seat in the study, unsurprised to hear her mother’s frantic voice calling for her. It was the fifth time that day that Meg had responded to such a summons. It was likely the hundredth time since Mama had informed her of the house party not four days before.

“In here, Mama!” Closing the account book, Meg stood. She had barely managed to set it atop her father’s desk before Mama bustled in, looking harried.

“There you are! I do not know why I did not look here first. Come. Come, I need your help.” Mama’s observant eyes swept the room, landing on the account book. For a moment she stopped her tugging on Meg’s arm and pierced her with a motherly look. “Now, my dear, you know how we love and value your arithmetic abilities, but you simply must set them aside for the party.”

Meg’s brows raised of their own accord. “Why, Mama? I am certain I can manage to see to our guests and still help with the books. It will be no trouble.”

“No, of course not. But even still . . .” Mama patted the top of her blonde coiffure and brushed the front of her skirts before meeting Meg’s eyes. “Well, to be quite frank, my dear, there are a great deal of men who would likely be put out to see that their wife is more capable in that aspect than they themselves are. I think it would be best if that was one of your qualities we showcased . . . well . . . later.”

Meg attempted to keep her serene expression intact, but her brows pulled in marginally of their own accord. Should not her husband care for all aspects of her, her enjoyment of numbers included? Regardless, her mama likely knew best. “Very well, Mama. What is it you needed?”

Mama smiled, her relief evident, and she took hold of Meg’s hand again, pulling her from the room. “I wish to review this week’s menu with you again, as well as the activities I have planned. Oh, and I believe you should commit the guest list to memory before any of them arrive. It would not do to forget the name of your future husband, would it?” A small laugh escaped her as she led Meg into the drawing room. Several papers were displayed across one of the low tables. Meg had already reviewed the menu twice. Similarly, Mama had spouted off the activities no less than five times, surprising Meg into near speechlessness the first time by including a select few outdoor diversions. And as for the guest list, Meg was far more likely to forget her own name than any of the house party attendees at this point. But even still, she sat and went over it all again to help calm Mama’s nerves.

“We shall have three families attending for three weeks. You will recall the Evans family—they stayed with us when you were nine, I believe. The parents, Mr. Evans, and his sister. You recall?”

Meg nodded, though she did not really. She’d said so the first time they’d reviewed the guest list, but at this point, she only wished to quickly finish the process.

Mama nodded, apparently satisfied. “Mr. Parking has three siblings with him, two sisters and a younger brother, but Viscount Hatfield has only his mother. I thought to put them in the west wing, with the Dowager in the rose room. It has the most beautiful view of the gardens.” She looked to Meg, who nodded again.

“I’ve planned a neck of venison, fish, and chicken the first night, with lighter fare the following.”

Meg continued to agree as needed. Half an hour had passed by the time Lady Hall was satisfied and requested a maid remove the various lists and plans. Then she turned her full attention on her daughter. Meg could not help feeling a level of dread as she returned her mother’s gaze. Whatever her mama was about to disclose was likely the true reason behind her forcing Meg to review the party details again. It was not to be an enjoyable reason if Mama’s expression was any indication.

“Now, Margaret, our guests will arrive in a few hours’ time, and I have a couple last things I wish to discuss with you.”

“Of course, Mama.”

Mama smiled briefly before her gaze grew focused yet again. “You have had ample training, but having missed your Season, I feel I must remind you of a few important matters of note. It is imperative that you do not call any gentlemen by their Christian names—even Mr. Blake.” Meg opened her mouth, but Mama raised both hands, fluttering them in the air as if to ward off Meg’s rebuttal. “Yes, yes, I am aware that you and Mr. Blake have enjoyed a long friendship. Even still, it is not proper and would cause our guests to wonder at your relationship.”

Meg did not particularly like this stipulation; it was incredibly odd to think of Nathan as Mr. Blake, but she nodded respectfully nonetheless. She could not very well refuse her mother.

“Wonderful. Next, you must not be shown to give too much of your attention to any one gentleman. Again, I feel I must note this also includes Mr. Blake. Despite your relationship, it will not do for you to bestow too much of your attention on him. The other gentlemen we have invited would certainly not appreciate such a show of favoritism and may not understand that Mr. Blake is not a competitor to them. We would not wish to embitter a suitor—particularly the viscount.”

Meg did not grimace, though she wished to. Thus far, this conversation seemed to be more about Nathan than herself. And she begrudged the implication that she would not behave properly at this party. Again, however, she nodded serenely, agreeing to her mother’s command.

“Lastly,” Mama’s eyes softened and turned imploring as she reached over and covered Meg’s hands with her own, “as we will be passing some time out of doors, I beg you to take care of yourself. I understand the gentlemen will likely wish for opportunities to converse privately with you and therefore may take you for a stroll in the trees or amongst the flowers, but please take care. I could not bear it should something ill befall you.”

This request Meg could easily agree to. As grateful as she was for the opportunity to sojourn out of doors for the first time in months, she would not wish to cause her parents undue distress. She certainly did not wish to become sick again, nor did she particularly desire to converse privately with any of the gentlemen. Or, at least, she did not expect that she would. She nodded again, and her mother’s expression brightened. She clapped her hands together, stood, and began moving toward the door, still speaking over her shoulder.

“Splendid, splendid. Now, you ought to begin dressing for dinner. Wear your lavender dress. I think it sets off your complexion to perfection. Oh, and Margaret?”

Meg looked at Mama, who had reached the door. “Yes?”

“Do take care to ensure the viscount is comfortable. I have invited several worthy gentlemen, but he is the highest ranking by far. Should you capture his interest, I would be very pleased. Very pleased, indeed. Not only would it reflect well on yourself, but it would elevate our family further into society—even more so than your great-grandfather’s securing of our baronetcy. And, perhaps most important of all, it would aid your brother greatly when it comes time for him to enter Society and marry, himself.”

Yet again, Meg forced the corners of her mouth up in a small, temperate smile, ignoring the uneasy feelings roiling within her, and nodded. “Of course, Mama.”

Only after the door shut behind her mother’s heavily flounced skirts did Meg’s smile grow wooden. She turned to the window overlooking the formal gardens and took a steadying breath. Her whole life she had known she would marry as much for her family as for herself. Her parents loved her and would never force her into a match she did not want, but they would certainly expect that the match she did choose reflected well on them. She knew this.

Why then did it suddenly feel as if her stays were too tight and the room too small?