That speculation is now at an end—for the present, at least. Though Mr. Valentine assures us that a regular excursion across the Atlantic will be very much on his future agenda, for now he is headed to the other side of our country to explore new opportunities in California. Bidding him a very fond farewell last night was Lady Margaret Scott, whose charming presence in society has been much rationed this season. Lady Margaret, whose regular diary in Demorest’s delights thousands of readers, is proving herself an authoress of varied talents. To her journalistic endeavours, she is about to add the release of a book of children’s stories entitled Tall Tales and Wagging Tails.

It seems, however, that writing and socializing are not sufficient to keep the irrepressible peeress occupied, for she has taken on yet another occupation, that of assisting the teaching of ragamuffin children in a mission in the somewhat insalubrious surroundings of Five Points. It is of course expected that every young society miss take an interest in charitable works—knitting socks, prettily stitching children’s caps, selling jelly and preserves to raise funds for charity—but few of these hothouse flowers mingle directly with those they aim to aid.

Will the Scottish peeress, or novice New Yorker as she has come to be known, set a new trend? We can but hope she doesn’t follow Mrs. Scrymgeour’s example and return from whence she came. She would be sorely missed here, for all sorts of reasons!

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Seven

New York, April 1869

RETURNING FROM HER AFTERNOON STINT at the mission, Margaret bathed and changed. The fashion for a bustle with skirts drawn back and pinned like a pair of drapes continued to reign in New York society, forcing the wearer in the most extreme cases to lean forward in order to prevent herself toppling backwards on her heels. The posture, known as the Grecian bend, was subject to much ridicule in the press for giving rise to physical discomfort. Margaret eschewed this particular trend, having no intention of replacing her hated crinoline with another instrument of torture unless it was absolutely necessary. Gone were the days of requiring a maid to help her to dress or of having her corset laced to a specified circumference. For her occasional forays into polite society, heeding Marion’s advice to keep every door open, she wore a small bustle and perched fashionably sideways when she sat down, but on all other occasions she kept her undergarments to a minimum of petticoats and sat squarely and comfortably on her chair to write. She would never be willow-like, but she had grown accustomed to her natural curves and much preferred them to anything enhanced by bustles, crinolines, or corsets.