My Maggie,

I

The atmosphere in Grosvenor Square was  one you could only describe as hectic. Mamma's shoved their blossoming daughters into the backs of carriages whilst screaming for her other children, the sounds of pony and traps travelling along the cobblestoned road echoing through the square of houses. If one was quite enough they could hear the screams of agony coming from the Featheringtons upper dressing room where Prudence Featherington was being tightened into a size orange corset, or the yells from the square down bellow where ladies were selling single red roses and paper boys hollering out the latest news in helps to sell another pape. However if one was truly quiet enough, quieter than a mouse, one may be able to hear the soft cries of Lady Nighthower who sat beside a tarped up bed. The white sheet covering the place her husband had spent his last few months, curled up beneath the cream, striped bed cover. 

The Nighthowers were a very social able family, everyone knew their names, everyone respected and found the family very amiable for they were the diamond family of London. You could often find the eldest son Tobias on a ride or a hunt with his bachelor friends or at the gentlemen's club along with the other high society gentleman. Tobias was a kind man, but only to those he truly cared about for he was as protective as a big brother can be, and he was known since the passing of his farther to have a temper. The next born was the beautiful Ophelia Nighthower. All men wished to court her, to marry her, for she had the most radiant smile in all of London. Her kindness and bravery was known all around London, she was known to often promenade to the lesser areas of London and provide warm, fresh food to the less fortunate. Then their was Margret. She was more of the introvert, always had her head buried within a book of some sorts.  However her kindness was also known, she often read stories to children and told them stories of the adventures she was to take in the future. Travelling from Greece to Rome to Paris and possibly even America. Next was Gilbert. A handsome young boy much like his older brother, he was known to be a genius from a young age, he was often found within the Mr Simms medical practice as his budding young apprentice. Finally was young Angelica. Like her two sisters she was very beautiful and had a unique view on the world surrounding her, narrating the things she saw in a creative way and entrancing all around her to listen to her. You could tell a Nighthower was a Nighthower with their soft beautiful brown hair that resembled the finest oak tree in the largest of woods, and their deep brown eyes that one could easily get lost in. They each had a presence surrounding them that comforted even strangers. Their mother had taught them that. Their mother truly was beautiful just like her children, and unlike most had married for love, living a full life, travelling the world with the man she loved before she fell pregnant and they settled in the very house the family still resides. However since the Lord had passed, no Nighthower was seen leaving the house with the sand blue door they called home. Not one. All six remaining members of the family remained in the house, Tobias stopped riding with his friends, Ophelia stopped feeding the less fortunate, Gilbert stopped attending the medical practice and Angelica hadn't enchanted any stranger with her words of the world. However one thing that had remained was Margret still had her head buried within that travel book, wishing more than ever to visit the places her farther had described to her as a child before she would sleep. That was until today. The day that both Ophelia and Margret were to be presented to the queen. 

Margret couldn't hate the idea more. For that meant it was truly the start of the season, were she would likely be married of to some cold boring man who would wish for her to sit indoors and do needlepoint whilst she was pregnant with a son. Margret wished more than anything to be held back some more time, to go travel,  see the places her mamma and farther had seen. However with none of the children leaving, money was running out and whilst Tobias was trying to take over his father affairs however the process was slow, soon the family's would have to cut into the girls dowry, if Lady Whistledown was to find out it would ruin the family's name. Yet if somehow they could may off both Margret and Ophelia, the family would be in good enough standing to re-build their finances before anyone needed to find out.  That is why Margret currently sat on her ivory vanity wearing her finest baby blue gown that was tight yet modest around her chest and cinched in at the waist before flowing down to the ground, shielding her legs from view, a section of her hair braided around the crown of head whilst the remainder of her brown hair flowed down her back. "MARGRET!" she heard her older sister yell from the bottom of the stairs, "you must make haste!" As a sigh fell from her lips, she pushed the ivory bench she perched on and stood, her dress falling like stars like a meteor shower, pooling at her feet. Margret delicately strode along the wooden planks, passing the armoire in the far corner, the unlit fireplace on the back wall and past her four poster double bed, decorated with a flower infested quilt. Entering the hallway she passed the various portraits of her and her siblings most cheery and upbeat but the final portrait before descending down the staircase, although a cheery family portrait always brought a sombre mood. The portrait was a formal portrait. A ll siblings gathered around a large leather armchair. Lady Elizabeth Nighthower stood behind the chair, her hand rested upon her husband shoulders and she looked gracefully at the artist. On either side stood the two Nighthower sons, both dressed in the finery, lifeless expressions painted their features. In front of the armchair sat three daughters, each painted with a smile. Ophelia's smile wide and beautiful, yet did not do her smile justice. Angelica's was wistful and contagious and the viewer of the portrait couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and reassurance from it. Whilst Margret's was plain, at least that was what she thought. In comparison to he siblings her smile was much gentler, a small curve of the lip. Finally Margret let her gaze fall to the centre of the portrait. Sat in the leather armchair, a glass of scotch within his right hand sat Lord Henry Nighthower, Power yet kindness radiated off of him.

Margret loved her father with all her heart, when he passes she felt a piece of herself leave, she never laughed or smiled anymore. However the idea that her father was no longer i pan reassured her. 

As she descended down the stairs her sibling stood at the bottom ready to head for the palace, Ophelia's arm linked with Tobias and Mamma had her arm wrapped around her youngest child. "Oh darling," her mother breathed, "you look beautiful." 

"Thank you mamma, as do you all." Margret responded finishing her final step, Gilbert came and offered his arm, "Oh how chivalrous" Margret giggled.

"Well I am a gentleman now a days" Gilbert chuckled back.

"Oh of course kind sir." She responded with a taunt as the pair made their way out of the door none of the Nighthower family had exited in the past four months. For the first time in four months the sand blue front door closed shut, yet no one was inside.