Chapter Four: Margaret Weathers

 The sunshine of the early morning graced the glades and greenwood outside Churchill Estates, one of the most respected homes in Yorkshire. One very refined and gorgeous widow, Margaret Weathers, lived here among her many servants while hosting the grandest social events of the year. 

Middle-aged, she was also frequently active in the work of Saint George Parish. Fully dark-headed, her celestial blue eyes were motherly, wise, and more mysterious than many realized. Attentive to aiding the community's less fortunate widows, she welcomed many so that they could share in the beauty of her lavish home. 

Margaret's famous husband, General Weathers, was dead. She had never expressed any interest in remarriage since. Whenever she was awake, she hosted events at her home; whenever she was asleep, she dreamed of her daughter, Ada, and her prized nieces, Isabelle and Felicity Barton. 

In one of the unused rooms upstairs, Mrs. Weathers observed a book on her shelf, which reminded her of something from her distant past. Breathing heavily concerning its content, she attempted to refrain from a history that many knew nothing about. 

The lady went downstairs. Bypassing maids on both sides of her, a particular musical tone played in her head of events long ago. She wanted to silence the memories. She tried to move on. 

While entering the sunroom, Margaret closed her eyes and felt the early spring morning. She liked all social occasions; they helped divert her mind from past events. 

Gathering one rose into her hands, Margaret was lost in thought. She was in a dark world decades before. Her life had been very different when she had experienced the coming of a dark phantom into her life while hearing tales of one called ''the pernicious prince.'' The memories were exhausting; her heart was troubled; her mind, however, could recall all of it as if it had happened the day before. 

These thoughts of the past had never entirely left her. Ada was gone now, however. Her husband was deceased. In recent days, she had been recollecting these distant memories. All else she thought of was a diversion, a way to keep attending social events while ignoring the past. 

One of the elderly maids, Mrs. Thornton, approached her ladyship. ''Mrs. Weathers, there is news of a coming ball being held at Edgbert Devonsham's home,'' she began. ''I thought that you would be interested.'' 

The lady did not quickly respond. As her servant entered the next room, she was still considering the many mysterious affairs of past romances before the beauty of recent midsummer nights. She recalled events of war and love, division, and many emotions. It was beyond her heart to fill all of them now. 

Lifting from the green earth beneath her person, Margaret released her dark hair to her waist--- a sight many did not often see. She thought of one young boy who had seen greater turmoil than she had experienced, whose name was unknown by all in Yorkshire. 

''A ball,'' she finally realized from the maid's words. ''How exciting.''

She turned, thinking to herself: ''Now is not the time to mourn over the past or to think about what could have been. Yes, I need to attend such a social event. It will gladden my heart. Hopefully, it will be good.'' 

Margaret breathed in the fresh air of the plants around her. For one long moment, her mind reconciled its thoughts to events long ago based on narratives she had been told. They were as accurate now as in the past; she heard canons, saw deadly smoke, realized the past war that was taking place, and the presence of one young boy observing the clash of swords and bayonets. The scene was long ago, but the dream resonated still.