Page 32 of Lady for a Season
“The West Indies.” He strode across the room and spun the globe. “Here.”
She followed him, bent over the globe to see where he indicated. “So far away?”
“It is where spices and sugar come from. My mother was a slave there.”
“And your father?”
He shrugged. “Probably. I never knew him.”
“And you were brought here to be a…”
“A pretty gift,” he said. “Like giving his daughter a new necklace to celebrate her advantageous marriage.”
“I’m sorry.”
He sighed. “It is a long time ago now. Thirty years.”
“You knew Edward when he was growing up?”
“Yes.”
“What was he like?”
He glanced at the sleeping Edward. “A gentle child. Not like his brother and father. His father was a big man and noisy with it, you could hear him coming five rooms away. He stomped and swore and shouted at dogs, horses, servants and even his own family. His brother was a copy of their father. Whereas Edward… he was quiet, shy even. He loved animals, he’d wander all over the estate looking at birds, deer, fish. He’d sit so still and quiet you could barely see him, then he’d come home and read about animals and plants, try his hand at drawing them. He was promising at it, used to beg for a drawing instructor. He learnt to play the pianoforte almost alone. His father couldn’t make him out at all. The only interest the Duke had in animals was shooting them. He used to say Edward would have been better off being a girl, at least they could have married him off.”
Edward stirred and woke, and Joseph grew silent again.
“Did you sleep well?” asked Maggie.
Edward gave a half-nod, his face turned away from her. “Call for tea,” he said.
Maggie felt uncomfortable speaking to Joseph as though she were his superior. “Would you bring up some tea, please, Joseph?” she said.
“Yes, Miss Seton,” he answered smartly and left the room.
It was like playing a game, pretending to be a fine lady with servants and using a different name. The children at the Hospital sometimes played Master and Servants, a game where the Master or Mistress would pretend to be very grand indeed and order about all the Servants, giving them more and more elaborate things to do, but part of the joke was that they could not do anything for themselves. They would order a cup of tea but ask the servant to raise it to their lips, as they could not do anything so exhausting as picking up a cup themselves. Yet here it was real, she could not go and put on the kettle herself, she did not know where the kitchen was in this vast house and would surely get lost trying to find it. Instead, she had to dispatch Joseph, order him to bring tea as though she were his mistress, and he in turn must call her Miss Seton, a name that belonged to no-one, made up on the spur of the moment by the Duchess, just as once Maggie’s true mother-given name, whatever it had been, had been changed. At least she was still Margaret, though no-one ever called her that at the Hospital, so even that felt odd and overly formal, as though she were in trouble.
The roaring fire, hot tea and even the warming ginger biscuits Mrs Barton had sent up with Joseph did nothing to take the chill away from Edward. He had heard Joseph’s last words as he awoke.He used to say Edward would have been better off being a girl, then at least they could have married him off.No need to ask who had said that, Edward had heard the words enough times directly from his father’s lips, he had made no secretof how he felt about Edward, that he was a disappointment compared to his brother. His father would have been happier if Edward had also been a hunter, or even a rake about town, either option would have made sense to him. Edward had felt it keenly, the disappointment, the baffled repugnance of his father. He had not even tried to be more like his brother, for it was all too obvious that it was simply impossible, that their temperaments were so disparate that Edward could never hope for his father’s approval, and so he only hid away from him more and more.
But he had Maggie by his side now, there was a small comfort in that. A person whom he could trust, who had promised to stay by him and make him well. If such a thing were possible. At Ivy Cottage he had half believed it was. Here, he was unsure again.
“Your Grace, the tailor left last night, your wardrobe is complete, and Her Grace has requested that you move into the Iris Room today and are dressed appropriately from this afternoon onwards.”
“I’m to be set free, am I?” Edward tried to sound nonchalant, but his stomach turned over at the thought of being seen by more people, of leaving the safe world of the nursery.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Your dresses are also ready,” said Celine to Maggie. She had spent days constantly sewing, one dress or another laid across her knee while she altered sleeves and bodices or shortened hems, for the Duchess was taller than Maggie. Edward and Maggie were eating a midday meal of roast chicken sandwiches and honey cake, along with a dish of preserved plums and tea. “This afternoon you can have a bath, and then I will dress you as a lady should be dressed, while Joseph dresses His Grace. Then you will be free to go anywhere in the grounds that you choose.”
“A bath?” Maggie had never had a bath. There had only everbeen jugs of cold water and basins, with washing cloths and soap.
“I have had the footmen bring up a bath to your room,” said Celine to Maggie. “The maids have been filling it for the last hour. His Grace also has a bath being filled in his room.” She made her way out.
“Are you looking forward to being free to roam?” Maggie asked Edward.
He did not answer, only passed her a slice of honey cake.
“Thank you,” she said. The hot tea and sweet cake gave her confidence for what was to come, but Edward did not finish his portion.
