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.
She's expecting their butler to come and announce if Margot is in, so Eliza is surprised to see the young woman herself, come bounding down the limestone steps. She's smiling, in a light pink cotton walking dress with matching lace gloves covering her hands. She skips over to Eliza, who is now peeking out of the small glass window, and asks, "I was about to walk to town. Care to join?"
Eliza quickly glances at her feet, tucked away in dainty leather flats before saying, "How far a walk is it?"
"Just down the road there. I have a parasol if you're worried about turning pink," Margot tells her with a smile. Eliza would rather have the view of the village than the jade walls that cover the Whitman's drawing room, so she's willing to risk her impractical footwear. She nods before climbing out of the cab and Margot asks her to wait while she grabs the items she needs for their outing. Eliza instructs the driver to head back to Elsick House, promising to find her own safe way back after their outing.
"His lordship instructed me to never drop you somewhere without bringing you safely home, my lady," Mr. Carlson says while squinting from the sun. "I will stay here and await your return." Eliza knows her fiasco from last night was still too fresh to argue, so she only nods in response.
By the time her transportation is sorted, Margot is standing on the gravel ready to walk arm-in-arm with the future marchioness to town. She loops her skinny arm through Eliza's and asks, "What brought you down this way today?"
As they walk in step down the sloped, pebbled pathway she answers, "To apologize. For creating a scene yesterday."
Margot laughs, her raspy voice makes it sound deep and throaty, "That was the most excitement we had around here since the summer festival. No need to apologize." Her chestnut ringlets bounce as they trot further along, with her light pink hat doing little to shield her large hazel eyes from the sun. She handed Eliza the parasol when they departed, but it stays wrapped up in her gloved hand.
"I did not wish to cause a frenzy." Eliza adds, "I fear not everyone found me as exciting as you did."
"I assure you they did," Margot tells her, slightly out of breath. "You were all anyone could talk about for the rest of the afternoon." Eliza frowns while their feet crunch the dirt, Margot's white leather lace-up boots revealing themselves with every wide step she takes.
"Lovely," Eliza mutters, but before she can add anything Margot asks, "You said something about being involved in a murder? In London?" Eliza blinks rapidly, surprised at the sharp, morbid turn their light conversation took. She distinctly remembers Margaret telling her to leave all the grisly bits of her life out of conversations with Margot, but she nods anyway while Margot's eager eyes look at her in awe. "Really? What was it like?"
Eliza is a bit startled by the young woman's forwardness, wondering what her infatuation with the dead is. She was also engrossed by the talk of the sèance as well.
"Awful really. It was my best friend who was killed," Eliza answers. This causes Margot's hurried feet to come to an unexpected stop and she faces the tall, startled redhead.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't-" Margot says with a shake of her head, "It's only, I've recently discovered Sherlock Holmes and thought a real-life mystery might be something exciting! I didn't mean to come off so...Oh I do apologize." She blurts all of it out like one long-winded sentence. Her eyes lower as she asks for Eliza's forgiveness, which she instantly gives.
