Marion chuckled. “In a bluff sort of way. He must be shrewd, ruthless even, to have come over on the boat with nothing but a pocketful of potatoes, as he put it, and make his fortune. He has what they call a touch of the Blarney. It’s his eyes, I think; they are the kind that twinkle when he laughs. He has a shock of white hair and a moustache that is waxed at the ends. He has an infectious smile too, and such a raucous laugh it made everyone stare. Oh dear, I’m not drawing a very attractive picture, am I?”

“A very intriguing one, though. Go on. Is he tall?”

“He’s certainly imposing. A big bear of a man, Not fat, but solid. The kind of man that makes even a woman of my proportions seem frail.”

“I wish you wouldn’t talk about yourself like that. You are not fat, you are Rubensesque. No,” Margaret said, frowning at her, “don’t make a joke about it as you always do. As you are forever telling me not to do.”

“I stand corrected, my dear.”

“And another thing,” Margaret said, clearly warming to her task, “you talk as if you are in your dotage, which you are not. Mr. Patrick Valentine clearly doesn’t think so.”

“Actually, he has offered to take me shopping for bargains tomorrow. Do you mind?”

“Of course I don’t mind. As a wise woman once told me, you must embrace all that New York has to offer.”

“I hope you are not suggesting that might include Mr. Valentine.”

“Marion!”

“Oh, don’t look so shocked. I am only going shopping with the gentleman.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” Margaret said, looking entirely—and rightly—unconvinced, “will you please add a writing-desk to your list?”

Demorest’s Monthly Magazine, April 1868

Demorest’s Monthly Magazine, April 1868

JOURNAL OF A NOVICE NEW YORKER, LADY MARGARET MONTAGU DOUGLAS SCOTT

Dear Diary,

Today I awoke for the first time in my newly rented town house on Washington Square. From my bedroom window I can see trees coming into bud, and just for a moment I thought myself back home in rural Scotland. But only for a moment, before the noise of the city assailed me and I knew I could be nowhere else on earth but in New York. I’m not a country bumpkin (or in local parlance, a hick), as I have experience of life in Edinburgh, London, and Dublin, but there is something unique about this city. This humble journal will attempt to capture the character of the Metropolis through the eyes of a newcomer.