Eliza hadn't dared to go back to the Whitman property on foot, even if sunshine was drenching the path to the estate. She had the Bradshaw's driver take her over and as she watched the treeline to her right, she still didn't understand how she got so turned around. 

When she arrives back at the modest estate, she stays tucked inside the cab as her calling card is sent out. Hopefully, Margaret's long-standing connection to the Whitmans has them willing to offer her a second chance. 

Eliza had expected the butler to come and announce Margot's arrival, so she was startled to see the young woman herself bounding down the limestone steps. Margot wore a cheerful smile and a light pink cotton walking dress, her hands elegantly covered by matching lace gloves. She approached Eliza with an effortless energy, peeking through the small glass window, and asked, "I was about to walk to town. Care to join me?"

Eliza glanced down at her feet, tucked neatly into dainty leather flats, before replying, "How far a walk is it?"

"Just down the road there. I have a parasol if you're worried about turning pink," Margot said with a bright smile. Eliza, preferring the view of the village to the jade walls that adorned the Whitmans' drawing room, decided she could endure the discomfort of her impractical footwear. She nodded and climbed out of the cab, watching as Margot disappeared inside to gather what she needed for their outing.

Eliza turned to the driver and instructed him to return to Elsick House, assuring him she would find her own way back once their outing was finished.

"His lordship instructed me never to leave you anywhere without ensuring your safe return, my lady," Mr. Carlson replied, squinting against the sun. "I shall remain here and await your return."

Knowing that the previous night's escapade was still too fresh in everyone's minds to warrant an argument, Eliza simply nodded in acquiescence. By the time her arrangements with the driver were settled, Margot was already standing on the gravel, ready to walk arm-in-arm with the future marchioness to town. She looped her slender arm through Eliza's and asked with a cheerful tone, "What brought you down this way today?"

As they walked in step down the sloped, pebbled pathway, Eliza replied, "To apologize for creating a scene yesterday."

Margot laughed with her raspy voice. "That was the most excitement we've had around here since the summer festival. No need to apologize." Her chestnut ringlets bounced as they continued down the path, her light pink hat doing little to shield her large hazel eyes from the sun. She had handed Eliza the parasol when they set off, but it remained wrapped up in Eliza's gloved hand.

"I did not wish to cause a frenzy," Eliza added, her tone measured. "I fear not everyone found me as exciting as you did."

"I assure you they did," Margot confessed, slightly out of breath. "You were all anyone could talk about for the rest of the afternoon." Eliza frowned while their feet crunched the dirt, Margot's white leather lace-up boots revealed themselves with every wide step. 

"Lovely," Eliza muttered, but before she could add anything, Margot asked, "You mentioned something about being involved in a murder? In London?"

Eliza blinked rapidly, startled by the sharp, morbid turn their light conversation had taken. She distinctly recalled Margaret's advice to keep all the grisly details of her past firmly out of discussions with Margot, yet she nodded nonetheless. Margot's eager eyes sparkled with awe.

"Really? What was it like?"

Eliza hesitated, unsettled by the young woman's forwardness and her apparent fascination with the macabre. She recalled Margot's engrossed attention during the talk of the séance as well and couldn't help but wonder at her peculiar infatuation with matters of death.

"Awful, really. It was my best friend who was killed," Eliza replied softly, her voice carrying a weight that caused Margot's hurried steps to falter. The younger woman stopped abruptly, turning to face the tall redhead.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't—" Margot began, her words tumbling out in a rush. "It's just that I've recently discovered Sherlock Holmes and thought a real-life mystery might be... exciting! I didn't mean to come off so... Oh, I do apologize." She shook her head as she spoke, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Her eyes lowered in genuine contrition as she asked for Eliza's forgiveness. Eliza, seeing the sincerity in Margot's expression, offered it instantly with a small, reassuring smile.

"No need to apologize; I understand what you meant," Eliza replied, her foot already moving to resume their walk. "I became a bit caught up in the mystery of it all myself. Acted like an amateur sleuth in London."

"If I didn't have to marry and all that, I'd like to think I could become a detective," Margot said, just as the tip of the town came into view.

"Isn't that what women are starting to fight for? The right to choose something other than marriage above all else?" Eliza asked, her voice thoughtful as they strolled past the leather shop.

"Starting to fight? Aren't you marrying the duchess's son? You of all people should know that women have been fighting. That we are more than just mum's and wives," Margot said proudly, with her thin lips stretched into a cock-eyed grin. 

"Yes, I am aware that the duchess has more...progressive views. I worry about disappointing her a bit," Eliza confessed and Margot tugged her further along the small street of shops. "Have you met her?" 

Margot nodded, smiling at a woman carrying a basket of produce as they passed. "Once. They hosted a ball when Master Tristan arrived home from some part of the world. It was only for a moment, but the memory will stick with me always."

Margot stopped in front of a fabric shop, her gaze fixed on a basket full of colorful ribbons in the window. Eliza followed her eyes, then asked, "What made her leave such a lasting impression?"

Margot grinned before answering, "The duchess was wearing pantaloons." With that, she pushed the fabric shop door open and disappeared inside, leaving Eliza standing on the brickstep with her mouth agape. Eliza had thought her bare shoulders at the Ritz were risqué, but she couldn't imagine showing the shape of her legs at a ball. She shook the thought away before stepping inside to join Margot.

Bolts of rich fabrics hung from the walls, with baubles, trimmings, and ribbons cascading down the table in front of them. The selection in the narrow space was much smaller than anything she'd find in London or Scarborough, but the options were just as lovely.

"Good afternoon, Miss Whitman," an older woman, draped in black lace to her chin, said as she crossed into the space. "Is there anything I can assist you with?"

Eliza glanced over her shoulder as Margot spun around. "I was hoping to find some ribbons for my hair and check on how my gown is coming along."

"I could probably fit you now, if you'd like. Make sure you're as snug as a bug," the seamstress replied.

Eliza noticed how thick the townsfolk's accents were here—more inflection in their words, which rose and fell like a horse on a carousel. Margot glanced at Eliza before answering, "It's for Lady Winter's ball on Saturday. I suppose I could show her what we've designed." 

The old woman's eyes widened. "The new marchioness? 'Tis an honor to have you here, my lady," she said, tilting her head at Eliza, her dark eyes snapping shut. It would take some time for her to get used to the formality now directed toward her.

"Thank you, Miss..." Eliza began.

"Miz James, my lady," the seamstress replied, and Eliza quickly added to Margot, "Well, go on then, wow me with your frock."

Margot's bright blue eyes flashed with excitement as Ms. James led her over to a partition. As she waited for her friend to dress, Eliza meandered around the small, colorful space, wondering if she should pick up new ribbons for herself or perhaps new stockings for Lucy.

Eliza's gown had been created in London before she left for Nottinghamshire, as her mother had insisted on being involved in the preparations. Ms. James seemed genuine when she said she was honored to have the future marchioness in her shop, the first to say so without a hint of confusion, unlike many of the women in London. When her mother informed them of Eliza's new relationship status and the title that came with it, most of them appeared bewildered. The seamstress in London had looked skeptical when Lady Winter burst into her shop at the beginning of September, flush with excitement at ordering a ball gown. It was already past the end of the social season, and not all engagements came with a lavish ball to celebrate. As such, it had been a slow period for gowns of such magnitude to be created in so short a time.

As Eliza's hand picked up fabric buttons, she recalled Adelaide Greensbury's visit to the London shop, hoping to have a new wool coat made for the upcoming winter. The seamstress had been too busy with Lady Winter, discussing silks and trimmings, to notice Miss Greensbury impatiently waiting. But Eliza had spotted her the moment she crossed the threshold. It had been her chance to wave her ruby engagement ring in her old nemesis's face, all while her custom gown was being designed behind her. Her and Colin's engagement had already been circulating in the London papers, but this had been the first time she had run into anyone she knew since the news had spread.

"Not back in Scarborough yet I see," Adelaide had said, engrossed in a spool of lace trim, purposely avoiding Eliza's gaze while she spoke. Eliza was sure Adaliade had wanted her out of London as much as she did. 

"Unfortunately, Scarborough's shops aren't as equipped to handle my trousseau as London's are. Just finishing my ball gown and then I will be on my way." Eliza purposely used her left hand to mimic her being swept off to a new town. "You won't have to see me again until next spring I suppose. Unless my husband ends up having business here."

"Oh? You're not planning a London wedding then? I would have thought you'd take every advantage of the duke's connections. Have people believe your nuptials with their own eyes." Adelaide had smirked, but her eyes were hot with envy. Her pink cheeks were flushed with jealousy and Eliza loved every shade of it. 

"Is this your way of asking for an invitation, Miss Greensbury? If so, I'll be sure to send you and Miss Walscott each one. Save you a seat in the front pew," Eliza snipped back. Lady Winter had then called Eliza to the back, saving Adelaide from snapping back. 

As Eliza dropped the black buttons back into the basket, it dawned on her that the next event she planned would be her wedding. She had no idea where the duchess might wish to host such a grand affair, but Eliza knew the possibilities stretched across England.

A loud rustle of fabric pulled Eliza back to the present. She turned just in time to see an exquisite plum gown draped over a radiant Margot.

"Fit for a ball?" Margot asked, twirling slightly, the light catching the gown's rich sheen.

Eliza nodded quickly, unable to hide her admiration. "Absolutely."

"My mother sees this as a glimpse of what awaits me next spring. A preview of my coming out. She may have gone a bit over the top," Margot added with a playful smile, smoothing the fabric over her waist.

"And here I was thinking it was to announce my engagement," Eliza said, a playful smirk tugging at her lips to show she was only jesting.

"Of course, my lady," Margot replied with an equally teasing grin. "But truly, it's been ages since something this lavish has happened in Nottinghamshire! At last, we have something to look forward to."

Margot turned back to the mirror, her gaze adoring her reflection as she swayed gently, the pleats of silky fabric catching the light with each movement. Margaret's earlier words echoed in Eliza's mind: Be more social.

"We could change that, you know," she suggested.

Margot's curious eyes flicked toward her, intrigued.

"How so?"

"Lady Henry encouraged me to immerse myself with the women of the town. Perhaps we can devise another excuse to slip into pretty dresses?" Eliza suggested, realizing she could weave the topic of gowns into conversation after all.

Margot's face lit up as she quickly nodded. "Let's! But no tea parties or picnics. Something a bit more... daring. Something Georgie would most certainly frown upon."

Eliza narrowed her eyes playfully. "I see mischief behind those eyes, Miss Whitman. What exactly do you have in mind?" she asked, her tone cautious yet intrigued.

Margot stepped closer, lowering her voice as though sharing a delicious secret. "Let's host a séance."