Page 46 of Lady for a Season
They entered London in the late afternoon, but it still took hours to reach Atherton House. The streets were better than the country roads but full of people and other vehicles, slowing progress to a crawl, even though the heraldry of their carriage gave it precedence.
At last, with twilight falling, they pulled into a vast square of grand houses, with pretty gardens in the centre. The carriage drew to a halt in front of an imposing house, the door swiftly opened by a footman.
“Welcome home, Your Grace, Your Grace, Miss Seton.”
Maggie’s legs felt weak after not moving them for many hours, but she managed to climb out of the carriage, then stood gazing up at the house. It stood four storeys high, with a basement underneath it, and, she was later to discover, both gardens and a mews for the stables at the back. Atherton House stood on the south-eastern side of Grosvenor Square and was one of the largest houses, built when the square was first developed, more than eighty years previously.
News of their arrival having spread, they were welcomed by the butler, Webb, and the housekeeper, Mrs Green, while a flurry of footmen tended to their luggage, so that they were soon installed in their new bedrooms to change for dinner. Jane had been allowed to travel with them as Maggie’s personal maid and was wide-eyed at being in London.
“I shall get lost, Miss,” she whispered, once they were shown to the Willow Room and Edward had been put next door in the Oak Room. All their main luggage had already arrived ahead of them, in large trunks and boxes, so that they had travelled only with what they needed to make them comfortable for the journey. Jane hurried to begin unpacking. “I’ve been at AthertonPark since I was first in service, but I’ve never been here, and Mrs Green looks fierce.”
Maggie had similar feelings but could not allow them to show, so she only gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I am sure you will do well, Jane,” she said, looking about her. The layout of the space was similar to what she had at Atherton Park, but here the decoration featured Chinese wallpaper showing a delicate scene of willow trees and colourful songbirds in blues and greens.
“Duval says you’re to go shopping for all sorts of finery,” breathed Jane. “I shall look forward to dressing you for the balls and dinners and grand parties, Miss. I’ll have so much to tell the other maids when we go home for Christmas.”
Christmas felt a very long way off to Maggie. She could only hope that they would last that long without making any errors or Edward being unable to bear the pressure of this new life.
Once dressed for dinner, she knocked on Edward’s door and found him in the Oak Room, where panelled wood and a wallpaper of green oak leaves and golden rampant lions was both grander and gloomier compared to the Iris at home.
“Are you ready for whatever lecture my mother has planned tonight? Edward asked, a wry twist to his mouth.
“Tomorrow morning, we could visit the stables and see Merlin and Lacey,” she suggested.
His face brightened. “How do you always know the right thing to say to cheer my spirits? Come, let us face Mama together.”
The dining room was as large as the one at Atherton Park and the dinner, if anything, more elaborate. Crawfish soup, lamb, roast beef and mutton, veal collops and peas, sweetbreads, fried artichokes, green truffles, fruit in jelly, calves’ ears, damson tarts and more. When Maggie had first come to Atherton Park, she had felt obliged to try everything, but by now she wasaccustomed to choosing only what she had a taste for and leaving the rest.
“I will take Maggie to Gunter’s for an ice tomorrow,” said Edward, when the silence had gone on longer than was bearable. He addressed Maggie. “It is a pastry shop with the best ices and dainties in town, and it is only a couple of streets to the east of here, in Berkeley Square.”
“You will go nowhere without my express permission,” ordered the Duchess. “Neither of you are fit to be seen until you are more appropriately dressed. You both look positively shabby. Three weeks should do it. Until then, we are not at home to callers. We will make it known that we wish to enter society very slowly, owing to our recent bereavements. Besides, everyone will know that we will need new wardrobes, since we were absent for most of last season and in mourning until recently.”
Later, Maggie protested to Celine.
“Shabby?”
Celine laughed. “For London and theton, yes.”
“But Edward looks elegant and I – I am dressed perfectly well, even if they are hand-me-downs.”
Celine shook her head. “Her Grace is right,” she said. “Your clothes look outmoded, and His Grace’s are not cut as well as expected for a duke. The tailor from Aylesbury did well enough for the countryside, but we need a London tailor to do the job properly. Besides, His Grace has put on some weight and is broader in the shoulder, I think, from all the exercise. We will be keeping the tailors and modistes busy in the next three weeks. You do not have anything like enough clothes.”
“I have six dresses.”
“That would not be enough were it three times over,” said Celine.
The Duchess lost no time. The next morning, she began putting her plans in place.
“Joseph has gone to Weston the tailor to have him call on His Grace later today. He will take all necessary fittings and be entrusted with commissions for every part of his wardrobe. My modiste will call on me here tomorrow. Celine, you will see to it that Margaret is appropriately dressed. Remember that how she is dressed will reflect on our family. The young ladies of theton, especially those whose families may be noble but, shall we say, lacking in funds, must look at her and imagine that they, too, will be so dressed once they marry Edward and become the Duchess of Buckingham. Spare no expense. They must be dazzled, they must not question anything about Edward’s suitability and a lavish display of fripperies will distract them. I cannot wear anything too bright as I am still in half-mourning, so Margaret’s clothing is of the utmost importance.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Maggie sat silently. Here they were, the social season now close at hand. The endless lessons and preparation would soon be at an end and the drive to find Edward a wife would begin in earnest, his wealth and title laid out as bait for unwitting families keen to make a good match, Maggie’s clothes there to turn the heads of foolish young girls barely out of their nurseries, daydreaming of being a Duchess, of wearing beautiful clothes and spending their lives flitting from one social occasion to another. And the truth? The truth was that it was all a snare, a trap. A young woman would perhaps find herself rich and titled, yes, but her husband might be taken from her as soon as she had borne an heir, leaving her in the icy control of Edward’s mother. Maggie shivered.
“Your shawl?” offered Celine.
But the cold feeling in the pit of Maggie’s stomach would not go away.
That evening Celine came to Maggie after dinner, ready to make a list of places to shop. “We will begin tomorrow morning. Joseph will accompany us, and we will take the carriage. We will use Her Grace’s modiste, Mrs. Pontet in Pall Mall. She can measure you and we will choose from the latest fashions. But we will also need ribbons, hats and more silk stockings. Shoes and boots from Wood. A riding habit.”
