Page 42 of Lady for a Season
“Could we go in the boat now?”
He hesitated, the memory still lingering but the day was sunny, and Maggie was at his side, he had played by the lakeside many times before that fateful day. Perhaps he could reclaim it as a happy spot again.
“The boat is just there,” he said at last. “You will have to help me push it into the water.”
After some effort they got the boat halfway into the water, then Maggie got in and he pushed off, leaping in beside her, so that the boat rocked and she shrieked, frightening the moorhens nearby. Edward took the oars and found they were easier as a man than they had been as a boy. He rowed them slowly around the small island in the centre of the lake, where wild ducks and geese made their nests. The sun and the gentleness of the boat’s movement allowed the memory to fade a little, made him think of something else.
“I wonder how the frogs are doing at Ivy Cottage,” he remarked.
“Do you think of it often?”
“Only to be grateful for being far away from it.”
“Are you happy here?”
“It feels different now than it used to.” He did not say, now my father is gone, now I am no longer the lesser brother. “I could be happy here if I did not need to… do all these things that are expected of me.”
“You will go brown,” Celine admonished Maggie when she saw her come in from the first day at the lake. “You must carry a parasol, or thetonwill think you a rustic.”
“I cannot even sit in the sun?” Maggie sighed, but she carried a parasol with her from then on. The lake became a favourite place as Edward took pleasure in rowing Maggie about, and even tried to teach her to row beside him, the boat turning in circles for a while until they found a matching rhythm. Thanks to the parasol, her own skin stayed pale while Edward’s changed to a healthier hue and his arms grew stronger from rowing the boat.
July came, the days too hot and tedious for Maggie to bear any more learning. Sometimes, she would glance at Edwardand make a small pleading gesture with her hands, as though at prayer, and he, trying not to smile, would announce that he needed to rest, that he was tired. This excuse always made the Duchess uncomfortable, as though she feared Edward might suddenly start ranting or behave in some way like a madman, so she would hastily nod her agreement and let them go free.
They would escape where she could not find them or would never think to look for them. To the lake, to the stables, sometimes down to the kitchens, where the maids would stare at them wide-eyed but Mrs Barton the cook, ever unflappable, would welcome them with a cup of tea and let them help her make some small treat, Maggie rolling pastry while Edward filled jam tarts. They would wait until the delicacies had been cooked, then take them outside to the lake or gardens and eat them still warm, letting the sunshine fall on them.
Edward had been putting off speaking with his steward, Mr Wilson, who managed Atherton Park, but now he asked for a meeting with him and found him to be a man of good sense and with practical ideas in which Edward took an interest. Merlin had given Edward more than just riding confidence.
“There are some cottages on the estate that have fallen into disrepair, I will ride out tomorrow to see them with Mr Wilson,” he told Maggie one day.
She watched him set off from the window, marvelling at how much he had changed, how he strode confidently out to where the groom was holding Merlin, got into the saddle with ease, his posture elegant, his shoulders and chest broader than they had been at Ivy Cottage, when he had been all limbs. Here at Atherton Park, where he was shown deference and care by all the staff and could find his way into the unexpected role of duke, he seemed to be growing into his manhood, shrinking again only when the Duchess criticised his progress.
There was an endless stream of rules for every possible social interaction. Maggie was not to speak of or ask anything personal, nor even to compliment a person’s dress, as it might seem too familiar. She was not to laugh overmuch; she was not to discuss politics. The hostess at a dinner would begin by turning to the guest on her left and speaking to them until the second course was served, when she would turn to the guest on her right and speak with them. Guests would follow the hostess’ lead.
“What do I speak of, then?”
“The weather. The health of absent family members. You can admire something in the room, such as a portrait. Speak of something suitable which you have just finished reading, though not love poetry, it is not respectable for a young lady. Anyway, it will be for the gentleman to entertain you at dinner by choosing suitable topics of conversation, you need only reply appropriately. Also, a gentlemen may offer you wine, as it is not polite for a lady to call for wine herself. You may accept or decline, although you should give a reason for declining, so as not to seem ungrateful for the attention paid to you. Edward, practise with Maggie.”
“Cousin Maggie, will you do me the honour to drink a glass of wine with me?”
“Yes, thank you, Cousin Edward,” she replied, awkwardly.
Edward nodded to Joseph. “Two glasses of wine,” he said.
Joseph poured two glasses and passed them both on a silver tray. Edward took both and passed one to Maggie with a small bow.
“Bow in return,” instructed the Duchess.
Maggie gave a bow. It felt like a ridiculous movement when seated, but Edward only raised his glass and took a small sip. She copied him.
“Very well,” said the Duchess. “Now you will know what todo. If you prefer to decline, simply say, “Thank you, but I am not accustomed to much wine at dinner and I have just finished a cup with His Grace,” or whomever most recently offered you a glass. Or indicate that you still have a full glass and offer your thanks. That will do. If there is a choice, choose white or champagne, but you will find the wine has usually been chosen for the meal.”
Maggie privately hoped that no-one would ever offer her wine or indeed speak to her at all, it was all too complicated, she had enough to do with remembering which way to turn her head and keeping up endless small talk.
“You would do well to read some popular novel currently in circulation,” added the Duchess. “There is one calledPride and Prejudicewhich has been widely read of late. It is written by a lady, so they say, and no doubt most young ladies and even some gentlemen will have read it, so you will seem up to date.”
The drawing master having completed his work and the singing instructor likewise, it was time for a dancing master to be hired, even though the hot days of summer hardly seemed suitable for much physical exercise. Edward also needed to be schooled.
“My niece’s education has been sadly neglected,” the Duchess said to the dancing master. “And my son was never fond of balls when younger, he was too busy… hunting and so on. He will have to improve himself alongside her.”
