Page 22 of Lady for a Season
She half-woke when they pulled into the dimly lit stable yard of a coaching inn, felt the carriage jolt as fresh horses wereharnessed to the carriage. The change happened twice more, and each time Maggie peered about for signs of where they were. In one yard a boy pressed his face against the glass to look in and was cuffed round the head by an unseen man for his insolence. They were always gone again in a short space of time, pulling away from each inn and back onto the roads, Maggie dozing again as they drove on into the night.
In the cold light of an early dawn, she woke with a dry mouth and bleary eyes, limbs stiff with cold. Pressing her face against the window she saw ornate gold and black gates swinging open, the wheels crunching on fresh gravel through an endless avenue of towering trees lining a well-kept road. Maggie pushed at the window to open it. Cold air struck her, but now she could lean out and what she saw ahead left her open mouthed.
A vast building, set amidst gardens and grounds. A castle-like façade, with two turrets and a wooden door large enough to drive a carriage through. She had barely taken it in when the carriage swept round in an arc, forcing her to lean to one side to keep her balance, and then stopped.
A lurch and a crunch of gravel as the man jumped down and came to the door, opening it. He folded down the steps and held out his hand and this time Maggie took it, stepped down, her limbs protesting.
“Welcome to Atherton Park,” said the man. He turned to the driver. “To the stables,” he said, and the carriage pulled away, disappearing round the corner of the vast building. “Follow me,” he added to Maggie, and strode away from her, rounding the side of the building, away from the vast front door. Maggie stumbled after him, limbs heavy and clumsy.
“Wait,” she said.
The man turned. Up close, now that there was more light, she saw that his skin was not really black, but dark brown, his eyesalso a deep brown. He was dressed in a rich blue velvet that matched the interior of the carriage, the jacket heavy with silver frogging, his buttons shining.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“My name is Joseph,” he said.
“Whose livery is it you wear?” she asked, expecting him not to answer
“Buckingham.”
This meant nothing to her. They were in Buckinghamshire; he had told her that much. He had already turned away, was walking down the side of the building till he came to a smaller door, on which he rapped smartly. It was opened at once by a boy in matching livery, who bobbed his head at Joseph and gaped at Maggie.
“Less of your staring,” said Joseph. “Go tell Mrs Barton I’m back. Come,” he added to Maggie.
He walked briskly through a vast empty corridor, the flooring a dark timber, the walls painted a pale greeny-blue and hung with stern portraits of grand men and women, all of them with expressions of superiority. Hurrying after him, Maggie saw a white ceiling intricately moulded with swirls and highlighted in gold leaf above her.
They came to one staircase and another, everywhere decorated with grandeur like the Governors’ ‘court’ room at the Hospital, the walls painted or papered, gold touches everywhere and sweeping staircases, making Maggie feel small and lost. If Joseph were to leave her here, she would not even be able to find her way out.
They came to a smaller staircase and a corridor, less grand than those lower down in the house, although there was still a dizzying array of doors. Joseph stopped outside one and gestured Maggie forwards.
“He’s been asking for you day and night,” he said, and opened the door into a dimly lit room.
Maggie almost cried out in relief, for there, on a plain wooden bed, somewhat too short for his long frame, was Edward, asleep in his clothes, the rumpled sheets and blankets suggesting that he had slept but restlessly, a lamp burning low on a table. She advanced into the room on tiptoe so as not to waken him, looking about her in curiosity.
It was a room for children, a nursery, for there was a globe and a blackboard, dusty but still with faint marks of long-ago chalk. She could see another bed through an open door, also too small for a grown man. The green curtains were faded and the room, although large, felt neglected, as though its occupants had long gone.
“Does he – is he – is this his home?” she whispered.
Joseph nodded silently.
Maggie had known so little about Edward, she now realised. He came from a grand family, a rich family and yet… “Isn’t this a nursery?”
“He would not go to the rooms set aside for him.”
Maggie saw a stool in a corner of the room and took it, placed it by Edward’s head and settled herself, waiting for him to awaken. The blanket had fallen from his shoulder, and she pulled it up to keep him warm. When she looked over her shoulder Joseph was watching her.
“Are you thirsty?”
She realised, suddenly, that her mouth was very dry, she was indeed thirsty. “Yes. Is there some water?”
“I will fetch some,” he said. “And tea?”
“If it is not too much trouble,” she said, her voice still low, unwilling to wake Edward by speaking too loudly. “Thank you.”
He hesitated, then disappeared from the doorway. She could hear his heels down the corridor, brisk, confident in this house.Her relief at seeing Edward drained from her. Where was she? Some grand house, where Edward, it seemed, belonged, and yet he was sleeping in an abandoned nursery, wearing the same suit he had been taken in, crumpled and sweat-stained. His clothing had been simple, but always clean. Were they not looking after him? Joseph had said Edward had been asking for her and clearly whoever lived here had grown desperate enough to send for her, to send Joseph out again on the long journey, traveling dangerously by night to avoid notice. She gazed down at Edward’s sleeping face, his skin pale, hair tangled on the pillow, one foot uncovered, knees bent to fit in the small bed made for a child.
The fire in the grate was laid but not made and the room was chilly. Maggie looked about for a tinderbox and saw one on a small side table. She lit the fire, kneeling and blowing gently to encourage the flames to take hold. As she finished, she heard fast footsteps again and Joseph appeared in the doorway bearing a tray.
