Jo Beverley by Forbidden Magic Page A

answer questions, saying it was all to be a surprise, they settled into wild speculation, ending up with an idyll full of cakes and ices, gold plates and jewels, and fiery horses, half a dozen for each of them.
    When they’d finally been settled in bed, Meg rubbed her aching head and hoped they’d not be too disappointed by reality. She supposed they’d at least get the cakes and ices on special occasions.
    And now she had to deal with Jeremy.
    He drew her into the chilly privacy of the parlor, leaving Laura darning in the meager light of a tallow candle. They couldn’t go to the church with holes in their stockings.
    Meg repeated the story she’d thrown together. She’d met the earl at the Ramillys’, he’d offered for her when he learned of her situation, and she was delighted to have the chance to marry so well.
    â€œBut why in such a rush, Meg?” he asked, managing to look astonishingly like their father in a stern mood.
    Good heavens. She’d never imagined that anyone might think she had to marry! Already hot-cheeked, Meg told him about the earl’s grandmother.
    â€œGood lord, Meg. He does sound ramshackle to be forgetting such a thing, then insisting on going through with it.”
    â€œIt’s not ramshackle to keep his word.”
    â€œI suppose not, but even so . . .”
    â€œEven so, I’m going to do it.”
    â€œYou admit you don’t know him all that well. I don’t think this is very wise.”
    She reminded herself that he didn’t know about the awful alternative.
    â€œIt is a gamble of sorts, Jeremy, but the chances of winning are high. And if at the last moment I change my mind, I can refuse to go through with the ceremony.”
    â€œI’m coming with you.” His jaw set in a very resolute way.
    â€œOf course, you are! Would I get married without my family?”
    That seemed to calm him, but as he went off to his books, he muttered, “It all sounds pretty rum to me.”
    Meg had to admit that it did. That it was. She pushed anxious questions out of her mind, however, and went to help Laura with the darning. She still had her pride and didn’t want them to look like the paupers they were. By the time everything was as neat as possible, her back ached and her eyes stung from straining in the poor light.
    Wax candles. Surely an earl would have wax candles. She prayed an earl would be willing to replace worn-out stockings.
    Laura rubbed her back, too, then packed needles and thread in their mother’s inlaid wooden sewing box. Meg had kept it till last, but it would have been the next thing to go. She’d already inquired of a dealer how much he would give for it. She touched it tenderly. Another blessing . . .
    â€œNow you!”
    â€œWhat?” Meg looked up at her sister, trying to disguise her weariness.
    â€œWhat are you going to wear for your wedding?”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter.”
    â€œNot matter! Nonsense. Let’s check your wardrobe!”
    â€œRachel’s asleep.” They’d taken to sleeping two and three to a bed for warmth.
    â€œWe’ll be quiet.”
    â€œI don’t expect that a suitable gown will appear by magic. Everything I have was chosen for a governess in a sober household.”
    â€œThere has to be something. Come on!”
    A few moments later, Laura was easing open drawers in Meg’s armoire, frowning at the dull gowns within. “You could always ask that stone thing,” she whispered.
    â€œWhat?”
    At Meg’s tone, Laura looked over. “The sheelagh-maging.”
    â€œSheelagh-ma-gig.” Meg drew her sister out into the corridor. “I wasn’t sure you knew about it.”
    â€œMother showed me.” Laura shrugged. “She assured me it had these powers, but I wished and wished for a pianoforte and it never appeared. She said it worked for you, though. So you