Page 62 of Lady for a Season
Although they had returned in time for Edward to take his place in Parliament, on the first of March he was back at Atherton House within two hours of leaving.
“The Prince Regent asked for Parliament’s opening to be delayed until the twenty-first,” he said. “And it was agreed. So there will be nothing to do for three weeks.”
“You mean there will be extra time for social calls, picnics and pleasure gardens, and the men will all be expected to attend,” said Maggie wryly.
“You have learnt the ways of thetonfar too well, I think.”
“A pile of invitations has been delivered,” she said. “Your mother has been sifting through them, picking and choosing what she thinks are the best occasions at which to show our faces and finery.”
Edward nodded but remained silent. Maggie contemplated the ticking clock the Duchess had set in motion when she had said that there must be a wedding before the season was done. It was March. There were fewer than five months left, for although parliament would officially conclude on the thirtieth of July, many families would begin to leave London earlier, during June,especially if the city grew too hot. Now that the days were growing longer the most intense twelve weeks of the season would commence, as every family sought to see and be seen, to conclude the season in a blaze of glory and avoid a whimpering failure.
“For tomorrow’s ball,” said Celine the next morning, looking through Maggie’s gowns, “I think perhaps the green?”
“We’ve just been to a ball,” protested Maggie.
Celine straightened up and looked at her, bemused. “I fear you do not understand what the true social season is like,” she said. “How many invitations do you think you will be accepting while we are here?”
“Perhaps one a week?” offered Maggie, already knowing the answer was wrong. “That is what we did during the autumn.”
Celine laughed. “At least two balls a week.”
“Well, that is not too bad,” said Maggie, relieved.
But Celine was not finished. “The theatre and opera two to three times a week. Perhaps a private dinner once a week, with family connections or where there might be a significant interest in His Grace from a family. Those are the evening appointments. During the day, you will call on other families or be called on, depending on Her Grace’s at home days. There will also be other daytime activities: picnics, luncheons, carriage rides and ices at Gunther’s. Riding or driving in Rotten Row on a daily basis. Then there will be pleasure gardens, not as frequently but from time to time. Church on Sundays.”
Maggie stared at her, heart sinking. It was too much. Edward had managed, with the odd struggle, the very limited events they had undertaken so far, she had been proud of him, but this sounded far too much for anyone to bear.
“There will be more than one social activity every day,” concluded Celine, as though Maggie might have missed thispoint. “And most evenings, you will not be home until well past midnight. You may lie in later than usual but of course you must still be up and ready to make or receive calls from midday onwards.”
“How does anyone manage it?” asked Maggie, aghast. “How will Edward manage it? He will be exhausted and…” She wanted to say frightened, but held her tongue, not wanting to diminish him in front of Celine, but Celine’s face was already showing a sad pity.
“I am sorry for His Grace,” she said, her voice quiet. “The season can be pleasant for those who enjoy social occasions, but for someone like His Grace I am sure it will be very taxing. Especially when he will be so much in demand.”
“Will he? Surely there will be plenty of other young men who are eligible for marriage?”
“He is aduke,” said Celine. “There are fewer than thirty in the whole country. It is nearly as good as marrying a prince. And he is not only a duke, but also very rich, young and handsome, when most of the others are old or already married off, and a couple are not that rich because they are inveterate gamblers. Every lady in thetonwith an unmarried daughter has His Grace at the top of their lists.”
“Does he get a say?” asked Maggie, the words tumbling out of her mouth. Anger rose up in her at the way Celine was speaking, as though Edward were a valuable horse up for sale, instead of a young man who had been unable as a boy to withstand a bullying father and had crumbled, before being shut away as a madman when, Maggie was certain, he was no such thing, though he might be unable to behave as thetonwould like him to.
Celine looked down, as though Maggie had chastised her.
“I’m sorry,” said Maggie, touching her arm. “I know you are only speaking the truth of how things are. I just…”
Celine nodded, still silent. When she spoke, her voice was veryquiet, as though she feared being overheard. “I am glad His Grace has you by his side.”
“But he won’t have me forever,” said Maggie. “As soon as he is married, I will be told to leave, and they will expect... so much of him. He is growing in strength, but I am not sure…” She trailed off, uncertain of what she was trying to say, only that she was fearful for Edward. So much was demanded of him, and she could see him trying to grow into the role he had never expected to take on, yet at the same time his mother believed him a lunatic, ready to shut him away again at a moment’s notice. And if he were married and shut away, his wife would have no choice but to keep up the same façade they were engaged in now, a pretence that all was well, a constant lie to the rest of theton, year in year out. A lonely life for everyone involved and yet what was the alternative? For a moment she wondered if life in Ivy Cottage might be better for Edward. They had been happy enough when Doctor Morrison was not attending. Could Edward live there, or somewhere like it, without the doctor coming to administer treatments? Maggie would gladly live with him, care for him. There had been many happy days together at Ivy Cottage and even at Atherton Park when the Duchess was absent.
It was obvious that the Little Season had been just that, a pale imitation of what they must face. Every day except Sunday was filled with a schedule which was so busy that Maggie could not understand how anyone bore the endless social demands. They rose at ten and breakfasted, after which the Duchess would retire to her rooms where she would manage household affairs, speaking with the cook and housekeeper and writing letters. Edward and Maggie seized these opportunities to visit the horses, walk in the garden and generally avoid any social obligations, bracing themselves for what was to come. The so-called morning calls were conducted between two and four in the afternoon and were so formally short that they frequently visited three or four houses each day, staying for less than half an hour at each before taking the carriage to their next destination. All the houses were within the confines of or only a few minutes’ drive from Grosvenor Square. If they were not calling on someone, there was always some social occasion in which they were to partake, from visiting the pleasure gardens of Vauxhall to riding out with someone, or a picnic on the warmest days. Their only supposed respite was on Thursdays, the day the Duchess had determined to be her at home day, when they had instead to receive company for the two hours set aside for this purpose, making the same small talk repeatedly with each new guest. The weather, the delight of such-and-such a dinner or ball previously attended, varying degrees of simpering at Edward and heavy-handed mentions of a young woman’s accomplishments and keenness to settle down, then farewells, followed moments later by greeting new guests and the whole to be done again. Often, more than one set of visitors arrived simultaneously, which meant Edward had to try and split his attentions between several young women without causing offence by paying particularly marked attention to any one in particular.
A brief escape was possible at five, to walk or ride in Hyde Park, though this necessitated a change of clothing both before and afterwards. It also required constant nodding and bowing or curtseying to those they encountered and on the dreariest occasions an overly-keen mama and her daughter would hint so heavily to join them that they would spend the rest of the hour making yet more small talk, received with excessively rapt attention by the daughter.
A small dinner at home would lead on to a supper out or a ball, often not returning home till one or two in the morning.Maggie’s feet were constantly in pain from the dancing and the late nights took their toll; some days she could not rise early enough for breakfast. Although there was endless elegant food provided at many of the gatherings they attended, the restrictions on how she should eat – tiny mouthfuls and unending small talk – meant that often she went hungry until she could get home and ask Jane to bring her something simple: a bowl of soup with bread and butter or some cake and fruit.
During breakfast at the beginning of the second week in March, the Duchess was smug as she checked through a silver tray of cards, letters and invitations.
“Lady Jersey has been so good as to send vouchers, as I expected.”
Edward sighed.
