Page 34 of Lady for a Season
“Then shall we take a walk?”
In the doorway she hesitated about which way to go.
“Left,” Edward said, sharply.
“Is there something pretty that way?”
“There’s a fountain.”
“And the other way?”
“Nothing worth seeing.”
They walked along the crunching gravel paths until they came to a formal garden. Neat box hedges cut into sharp lines, everything stiffly perfect. At its centre was a three-tiered white stone fountain, water cascading from level to level. Maggie peered into the depths of the lowest basin. The water was sparklingly clear, the bottom of the basin visible, despite its considerable depth.
“No fishes and plants here,” she said.
He sat on the rim and looked into the water, beyond it. “No life. Only what looks right and proper, nothing behind the façade.”
“We could add fish. And waterlilies.”
“I’m sure my mother would find some objection to it.”
“You are the master of Atherton Park.”
He shrugged. “I don’t feel like it. I feel like an imposter. I was never raised to be the Duke; I was always the spare. Everything revolved around my father and my brother, his heir. I was always an afterthought. It didn’t matter what I wanted or who I was, if it wasn’t about the two of them, it had no importance.” He stopped. “It doesn’t matter. Shall we walk on?”
She followed him. “But it does matter.Youmatter.”
“I matter now because I am the Duke of Buckingham. If I were not, I would be back in Ivy Cottage, most probably for the rest of my life. You know that to be true, Maggie.”
She bowed her head. She knew he was right, but it was a sad truth and somewhere in Maggie it was also a fact that made her angry. That a family should try to forget about their son when it suited them, only to hastily recall him from confinement when they needed him again, was a poor way to behave. But it was not her place to say such things, and she did not wish to add her own feelings to Edward’s, upsetting him further. She wanted Doctor Morrison to stay away from Atherton Park and Edward as long as possible, and the only way to achieve that was for Edward to remain calm, to give the Duchess no reason to send for the doctor, no reason to suppose Edward needed his ministrations.
“Your mother mentioned a rose garden,” she said instead. “Will you show it to me?”
He gave her a wry look, the look he gave when he was amused by something. “You sound like the girls who used to try and woo my brother,” he said. “They were always trying to get him alone somewhere, in the hopes that he would propose.”
“And it did not work?”
“He was too wily for that. He would always agree and then call to everyone that they must all come and see the rose garden,or the orangery, or wherever else the young lady had tried to get him alone. And so they would find themselves with a whole crowd of people and no chance whatsoever of snaring him.”
“Did he not want to be married?”
“He was young, he was having fun in society. Why get married? There was no need yet. My father was hale and hearty…” He trailed off. “Let us return to the house,” he said abruptly, and strode away, Maggie trotting after him to keep up, feeling she had asked the wrong questions, allowed feelings to rise up in him that were unhelpful to his wellbeing. She should not have asked personal questions, must stick to topics of less import.
Maggie found Edward in an armchair in the library, head buried in a book. Quietly she searched the shelves and found a large and heavy atlas, which she managed to balance on her knees, exploring the maps it contained with interest. She hoped that her presence might induce Edward to speak again, but he remained silent for the next few hours, until there was a rap at the door and Celine appeared. She curtseyed to Edward. “Your Grace, Joseph is waiting for you in your rooms.”
Edward nodded and left the room as though expecting this summons.
Celine turned to Maggie. “I am here to dress you for dinner.”
Maggie was confused. “I am dressed.”
“A lady changes clothes for dinner, into something more elegant. Your silk. I have already dressed the Duchess and she is most particular about punctuality. Come.”
Back in her room, Celine made short work of removing the brown dress from Maggie and helping her into the blue silk, then tidying her hair. She pulled out the blue kid slippers and laced the ribbons holding them in place so that they would not fall off. Finally, she drew out the string of pearls and clasped themround Maggie’s neck. “There,” she said, turning her towards the looking glass.
Maggie had been dressed in cast offs, but the clothes she was now wearing were beyond anything she had ever dreamed of. She allowed her hand to stroke the blue silk of her dress, shifted from one foot to the other to feel the delicate kid slippers softly move with her. The tiny sequins glittered, catching the flickering light of the candles.
