The Tale of Margot Finch

The tinkling of crystal, polite laughter, and shrimp canapes surrounded Margot Finch as she sipped her sweet pink lemonade. Her new American friends, Adelaide Beauchamp and Daphne Livingston, giggled and gossiped about the latest scandal.

One of their peers, Edith Frankson, or Edie to her friends, had shocked the East Coast elite when, right after her debutante ball, she had run off with a boy she met at the traveling circus. They had eloped and were somewhere on the tracks to Kansas by now.

Margot listened halfheartedly to Addie and Daph gossiping about how Edie was ruined now and could never re-enter polite society. Suddenly they were quiet, and Margot realized they were waiting for her to respond.

“What? Sorry?” she apologized as she took another sip of the slightly tart lemonade and reached for a cucumber sandwich.

“I heard he was a boy from a gold miner’s camp,” Daph whispered, scandalized, and Addie covered her mouth in horror.

“Just imagine her trying to come back once he leaves her for that circus he grew up in,” Daphne said, the word circus like a distasteful morsel of food in her pert mouth.

Margot did her best not to roll her eyes. Her American friends were a bit more uptight than the British boarding school girls she had grown up around.

Being taken under the wing of her father’s now-American sister, Margot was on a tour of America in hopes of finding a doting husband. The trip had been more arduous than Margot could have ever imagined.

“I imagine it will be quite hard,” Margot said, watching the sparkling blue sea from the large hotel window where the girls sat. She wished she were walking along the shore now instead of gossiping with these stuffy girls in this stuffy room.

“Impossible!” Daphne exclaimed, and Addie nodded her agreement.

Margot took a nibble of her sandwich and gave a small smile. Daphne, not getting the reaction she was hoping for, turned her full attention on Addie, who appeared to blossom. Margot didn’t mind one bit.

Her mind wandered back to the night she and her aunt had gone to the circus. Margot had been fascinated by the hustle and bustle of the fairway and the lion tamer.

He was handsome and brave, and Margot had felt a thrill watching him work with the lions and tigers. The tightrope walker had put her stomach in her throat as well as the trapeze artists.

The big top was a world unlike any she’d ever seen. She’d finally felt excited to be in America. She had convinced her aunt to see the bearded lady and the monkey that played the cymbals.

Margot giggled like she was seven years old again when the monkey ate the peanuts she held out to him, and he even tipped his hat to her. Her aunt couldn’t stop talking about it, and she had loosened her stance and let Margot explore alone while she sat and had a coffee with some acquaintances from her quilting club.

The woman who ate fire and the man who swallowed swords had held Margot’s rapt attention until she was tapped on the arm by Edie and a young man in a white leotard and tights. Edie’s flushed face was positively beaming.

“This is Franz. He’s a tightrope walker.” Franz had kissed Margot’s hand, his dark eyes keeping contact with Margot’s, an errant dark curl lying rakishly over his smooth brow. “He’s German,” Edie had whispered, giggling. “We’re running away together.”

Margot gasped, not believing her but not knowing what to say. “Don’t tell anyone!” Edie called back to Margot as the pair ran off to the back of the circus performers' living quarters, her red curls bouncing down her back, contrasting with the pale green dress she was wearing.

Margot had kept her secret, and the next day the society papers were abuzz with the scandal.

"I think it's romantic," she heard herself saying. Daphne and Addie turned their heads and just stared.

"Romantic?" Daph asked, putting her lemonade down. "Margot, maybe things are done differently in England, but here in America, Edie is ruined. There is nothing romantic about that." She folded her white-gloved hands onto her sky-blue dress and waited for Margot to agree. Addie sipped her lemonade, her brown eyes darting between the two.

"Oh, a young lady's reputation would also be ruined in England if she ran off with someone, especially from the circus. I still think it's romantic," Margot said stubbornly. "I hope she'll be happy." And she meant it. Edie and Franz had looked happy when they had confessed to her their plans.

Daph sighed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, you know she won't be," and picked up her sandwich. With bad manners, she took a bite and said, "She'll conceive a child, and he'll leave her in the middle of Kansas or some God-forsaken place out there," she waved her hand, "and no one will have her."

"No one would have her even if she didn't have his baby, right, Daph?" Addie said, hoping to add something to the conversation.

"Of course not, Addie. Don't be stupid," Daphne said impatiently. Addie closed her mouth, looking crestfallen. Margot decided she didn't like Daphne Livingston very much.

She made a show of looking at her small gold watch and said,

"Ladies, I must be going. Tennis lessons with my aunt in an hour." She stood, pretending not to notice Daphne's scowl and Addie's confusion. "Enjoy the rest of your tea."

As she walked out into the hotel's bright lobby with its large crystal chandelier, she looked back and saw Daphne and Addie talking animatedly and knew her too-soon exit was being discussed. She didn't care and hailed a cab to take her to the sea that had been tempting her.