Page 17 of Lady for a Season
“I shall take some to Edward.”
Eliza was wary. “Doctor Morrison says he is to eat plain food, nothing rich or it will spoil his constitution.”
Maggie nodded as though she agreed. “Very well,” she said. “Can I take the cream and the honey with me for my porridge?”
Eliza was about to reply but got distracted by the cat bringing a still-live mouse to drop at her feet. In the ensuing screeching, Maggie made good her escape with a small jug of cream and the pot of honey. Back in the parlour, she stirred in honey and cream to the two steaming bowls of porridge, then returned the jug and pot before their absence could be noticed and commented on. By the time she had returned, Edward had made his way downstairs and was seated at the table. She joined him and began eating from her bowl. At the first spoonful he looked up in surprise, but Maggie only went on eating her porridge and pretended not to notice him. He stared at her for a moment, then went back to eating the porridge without comment. She was pleased to see that he managed to finish all of it.
After breakfast she begged an ointment from Eliza and used it to dress his wounds, both the blisters and the cuts, hoping to soothe the pain he must be in, but they did not speak of the treatments.
From that day onwards she took over fetching his washing water and breakfast, making sure that he had hot water and that his breakfast was both ample and tasty, spreading fresh-baked bread thickly with good butter or cutting extra slices of pound cake, saying she was still hungry. Eliza occasionally laughed at her, saying she was eating them out of house and home, but Maggie would only tease back, saying that it was good to have a generous cook, which made Eliza happy and stopped her asking any awkward questions. The nightmares still plagued Edward most nights, but they grew less frequent.
The warmer days of late March and early April were now upon them. The yew and holly trees, along with the tall laurel hedges, had kept the garden green, if not exactly colourful aside from the flashes of red holly berries, but now spring growth appeared in the garden, as the hawthorn, copper beech and ash came back to life. The oak made its late appearance as the days grew warmer and brighter. Meanwhile, there were daffodils and crocuses, violets and primroses in the woods and new shoots on the roses. In the stream, the wriggling mass of tadpoles, when inspected more closely, were growing tiny legs. The weather was kind, the sun shone most days and there was warmth in the air. There was asparagus in the kitchen, made into a delicate soup or served alongside the roast lamb as a special treat on Easter day, after the tedium of Lent’s restrictions. There were so many eggs that they could have them coddled or with ham, or in the rich custards that Eliza prided herself on making to serve alongside puddings. Maggie tried to make Edward eat more, but she had a sinking feeling as Easter passed. Doctor Morrison would arrivesoon to treat Edward, for he had said he would return every two months and that time was almost up. Perhaps if she fixed Edward’s mind on the future, beyond the oncoming assault, he might be better able to withstand it.
“We could plant more flowers outside,” she said one day. “Abercrombie’s book on gardening talks of bulbs for springtime and roses for the summer. It is too late for this year’s spring, but perhaps we could plant some bulbs for next year. And if we were to plant fruit trees in the garden, we could pick fresh fruit from the trees in summer and make preserves. The book says a young tree will bear fruit in perhaps three years after planting.”
Her enthusiasm warmed him. “We can ask Walter for what we want. What kind of fruit trees would you like, Maggie?”
“Apples? Pears? Perhaps a quince. I once ate quince preserves and they were very good.”
Standing by his window that night, looking up at the full moon, Edward felt a rush of gratitude and happiness. Maggie intended to stay. She planned to stay with him for years, perhaps, if her talk of planting flowers and fruit trees were to be believed. He had been dreading the next visit from Doctor Morrison, but perhaps now he could face it, if she were by his side. Slowly, he unlaced his shoes and removed them, then stood a moment longer looking up at the moon before pulling the curtains closed. He would sleep well tonight, he thought. No nightmares. And tomorrow they would send Walter to buy plants for the garden. He began to unbutton his jacket.
A sound outside in the lane.
The hooves of many horses.
He frowned. Who would be driving so late through the village, even on a full moon night? He thought of looking out, but horses… He turned away from the window even as he heard a hammering at the door.
Chapter 2
The Midnight Carriage
Maggie woke with a start to hear Edward shouting. Of late, the nightmares had been both less violent and less frequent, but this one sounded worse than usual, and she hurried towards the door, grabbing at the lamp, fumbling for the catch. But as she opened the door, she let out a scream herself, for in the dim light of the corridor Edward was being manhandled down the stairs by two men, who had him gripped by an arm on either side.
“MAGGIE!”
“Edward!” Panic seized her, she ran down the first few stairs to catch up with them and grabbed at him, but one of the men holding him used his other arm to shove her backwards, so that she fell back onto her behind. By the time she had regained her feet they were already forcing him through the front door, even though he struggled in their grip and shouted again.
“MAGGIE! HELP ME!”
“I am coming!” she cried out. “ELIZA! AGNES!”
Eliza and Agnes burst out of their room and ran down the stairs behind her, all three rushed through the door where, in the shadowy moonlight, Edward was being forced, struggling, into alarge carriage pulled by four horses. The door slammed shut as Maggie grabbed at the arm of one of the men.
The man turned and Maggie gasped and stepped back in surprise, his skin was black, she saw, so that the whites of his eyes shone in the uncertain light.
“What are you doing to Edward?”
“I am taking His – him – home,” said the man.
“This is his home!”
“To his true home,” said the man, pushing Maggie away, not roughly but firmly. “Step away, girl.”
“I am his companion; I look after him! You cannot take him away without Doctor Morrison’s permission.”
“You need not fear for him. He will be taken care of.”
“But – you cannot simply take him, he is not well, he is –”
