Page 36 of Lady for a Season
“Thank you,” said Maggie, wanting to assuage Jane’s fears. “You have done very well,” she added encouragingly, and Jane beamed and bobbed her a curtsey.
“Thank you, Miss, I’ll do my best for you. I’ll brush your hair now, ready for Duval, she’s not yet taught me how to do hair.”
Celine arrived moments later and demonstrated a simple hairstyle for Jane’s benefit, the hair drawn up into a braided bun behind. “Miss Seton will have her hair cut when we go to London,” she said. “I will teach you to do ringlets at the front. For now, make sure the back is very smooth.”
“Yes, Duval.”
“Breakfast is ready, follow me, Miss,” Celine added to Maggie.
Breakfast meant sitting with the Duchess and Edward, which made everything feel stiff. Where Maggie and Edward had once toasted bread together before the fire while talking, or eaten hearty bowls of porridge, breakfast in the drawing room was an altogether different matter. There were four kinds of cake, a brioche, a seed cake, a honey cake and a plum cake, along with coffee, tea and hot chocolate. Maggie carefully helped herself to a slice of seed cake, before hesitating over the drinks. She had never drunk coffee or hot chocolate.
“May I pour you some hot chocolate? I think you will like it,” offered Edward.
She nodded gratefully and accepted the tall thin cup she was given, which sat in an odd saucer, with a raised circle in the centre to hold the cup more firmly in place. She took a small sip. It was like drinking a pudding, very thick and rich with spices and sugar, topped with a froth that vanished on her tongue. Edward caught her eye and smiled at her expression of amazed pleasure.
“I like it better than coffee myself,” he said, sitting beside herwith his cup. The Duchess, sitting opposite them both, made no comment, only sipped her cup of tea.
“Send for Jenkins and Mrs Russ,” she told the footman who had been standing stiffly against a wall.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
He left the room and the Duchess leant forward and spoke rapidly. “Jenkins is the butler. Mrs Russ is the housekeeper. They must both see you now that you are fit to be seen and neither of them can know who you are, Margaret. I cannot allow more people to know what is happening.”
Maggie saw Edward’s shoulders tighten. Her chocolate cup trembled.
A man and a woman entered the room, both perhaps in their fifties. Jenkins had dark hair, Mrs Russ might have had red hair in her youth, but it had faded to a reddish brown. Maggie tried to stand up as they entered the room, but Edward grabbed at her hand, giving a tiny shake of his head.
“Jenkins, Mrs Russ,” said the Duchess. “His Grace has come home to take up his rightful position as master of Atherton Park.”
Jenkins bowed and Mrs Russ curtseyed. “Welcome home, Your Grace,” they chorused.
“May I say on behalf of all the staff how sorry we all are for your losses, Your Grace,” added Jenkins.
Edward nodded without replying.
The Duchess intervened. “We are also joined by Miss Margaret Seton. She is my third cousin once removed. Her father recently died and left her to my care. She will be living with us for the foreseeable future.”
They both bowed and curtseyed again, although not as deeply as for Edward, Maggie could see the degrees of importance accorded to them both. She dipped her head in response, trying to emulate Edward’s slow, gracious movements.
“That will be all,” said the Duchess. “Send for Duval and Joseph.” Jenkins and Mrs Russ left the room.
Celine and Joseph appeared moments later, and the Duchess turned to the other footman. “You may go, Bartholomew. We are not to be disturbed.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The door safely shut behind him, the Duchess turned her gaze on Maggie.
“Stand up and curtsey.”
Maggie did so.
“Don’tboblike that. That’s how a maid curtseys. Slower. Slower than that. Never mind, you will have to practise. Sit down.”
Maggie sat, feeling thoroughly inadequate.
“Can you read and write?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” said Maggie, offended at being considered illiterate.
