@benjaminayles
In London, Maggie tended to arise early and retire late. There was an overabundance of social calls to make, fabrics to approve for dresses and the like, and sometimes, if she was lucky, a rare hour or two she could spend doing some deemed-acceptable leisure activity, always with the accompaniment of one or more persons. It took not sleeping in order to have any sort of personal time for herself. It was all so tenuous - everything here felt spun out on a small thread, liable to snap in an instant. The lack of sleep probably contributed to that impression, but Maggie was jittery. At least with her position she had a say in dictating what some of the day’s activities would entail, but fewer than she hoped in these earliest days of the season, where much time was spent paying visits to her father’s old acquaintances and irritable cousins who had also made their way to the ton so as not to start a feud she had neither the time nor the patience for.
One escape had become Hyde Park. She took to riding most evenings, in the open carriage bearing her name and crest or sometimes on horseback, unless rain or snow prohibited. It was beautiful, and would be even more so as the seasons changed to springtime and the park became lush with greenery once more. It allowed her to look and be looked at in a way that wasn’t displeasing. Maggie did take pride in being admired, to a point. That point would usually be the moment when she sensed the layer of falseness underneath a compliment, or animosity in a glance. Animosity...
“Stop the carriage,” she ordered, holding up a hand to her driver, who pulled over to the side to let others pass. Smoothing an evergreen skirt, she craned her neck forward. “Mr. Ayles? Is that you?” It was only proper to acknowledge an acquaintance of hers when meeting out in public, despite how...fragile their connection may be.
