Page 81 of Lady for a Season
“Miss Seton?” Bartholomew the footman stood a few paces away, outside the Duchess’ suite. “Her Grace wishes to see you.”
Maggie would have liked to refuse but there was no way to manage that under Bartholomew’s gaze. He knocked. Summoned to enter, she did so and went into the Duchess’ rooms.
Matching Edward’s ducal suite, there was a large bedroom with blue wallpaper printed with gold pagodas, a dressing room, a smaller room off to the side with a lavish copper bath and a green and gold private drawing room with a desk, at which the Duchess, already fully dressed, was sitting.
“Come, Margaret,” she called.
Maggie walked through the rooms until she was in the drawing room and stood in front of the Duchess.
“Be seated.”
She sat on the edge of a stiff chair.
The Duchess leant forward. “I wanted to tell you that Edward is to be married.”
Maggie’s stomach lurched. She thought she might vomit all over the thick blue carpet beneath her feet. It was too late. He had proposed and Miss Belmont would be his wife. Lord and Lady Godwin would be delighted to have made such a fine match and the Duchess had achieved her goal. And Maggie was… nothing.Unwanted. Wanted by Edward, if only briefly, set aside when he had to choose between his feelings and his future.
“He has proposed?”
“Indeed. Your work is done.” The Duchess gave Maggiesomething approaching a stiff smile. “I am… grateful to you, Margaret. You have guided Edward through a difficult social season, given his… affliction… and he is now to be married. To, I think we can agree, a suitable wife, who will not force him to socialise beyond his capacity, and who will prove undemanding.”
Maggie said nothing.
The Duchess grew brisk. “And therefore, as your work is done, I owe you the sum upon which we agreed when you first came here.” She drew a paper towards her and began to write. “One thousand pounds. My bank in London will honour this promissory note if you present it to them.” On top of the paper, she placed a sealed envelope. “References. You will need them to find a position. They say that you have worked in my household as a senior housemaid, that you have been diligent and hardworking, and that I therefore recommend you to any future employer. You will find most doors will be open to you with such a recommendation. You may take whatever items you wish to continue using from your wardrobe, aside from the jewellery. The clothes were all made to fit you and will be unsuitable for Miss Belmont. You will also need money for travel to… wherever you wish to go.” She opened a small drawer, took out a coin purse and counted out six large gold coins. “Six guineas.”
Maggie stared at the money a lowly ranking maid of all work might make in a whole year, held out by a woman who would spend the same sum on the silk for a couple of dresses, before her modiste had even touched the fabric.
“Take it,” said the Duchess, holding it out. “You will have need of ready money. Where will you go?”
“London,” said Maggie, her mouth moving by itself, the word emerging without her knowledge or planning. And truly, where else could she go? What else did she know? She had been raised in London, the city was full of opportunities for maids,she would be able to find a position. Slowly, she picked up the promissory note, the envelope containing references and held out her hand, felt the heavy clink of coins as they tipped from the Duchess’ hand into hers, the cold humiliation of payment for all she had done for Edward, the weighty return to her place in life, a nobody and nothing in this world, unwanted over and over again.
“I will call for the carriage. It will take you as far as The Golden Grouse, where you will be able to take the stagecoach to London.” The Duchess glanced at the clock. “If you pack now, you will make the noon departure. There is one overnight stay at a coaching inn, so you will be in London by noon tomorrow.”
“Where is Edward?”
“In the rose garden with Miss Belmont.” The Duchess placed one cold hand over Maggie’s trembling one. “You should not interrupt them just now. If you wish to leave a letter for Edward, I will see to it that he receives it.”
Maggie swallowed. “Yes, Aunt… Your Grace.”
“Goodbye, Margaret.”
Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. “Goodbye.”
The Duchess stood and Maggie, as though attached to her, controlled by her, stood also, turned and made her way out of the room. She heard the door close behind her and trudged down the corridor and up the stairs to the Wisteria room, every step heavy. Once inside, she leaned against the door for a moment, unable to move further, mind whirling.
Keep Edward safe.
That was the only thought that settled, that she could hold onto. The last thing she could do for him. One dragging step at a time, she made her way into her dressing room and sat at the desk, thinking. Finally, she took up her pen and began a letter.
To Doctor Morrison
Sir,
Your services to our family are no longer required. Enclosed you will find a final payment. I will count on your discretion should you wish to remain a physician of good standing within my circle of influence.
Caroline Buckingham
Carefully, she studied and copied the Duchess’ signature on the promissory note into the brief letter, then folded both into an envelope. The sum, perhaps a year’s income for a successful physician to the wealthy, was large enough to permanently secure Doctor Morrison’s silence and distance, she was sure of it. He would not want the Duchess to tell those within her vast circle of influence that he was a quack or a charlatan, thus ruining his reputation amongst thetonand its source of possible further patients. The Duchess’ additional six guineas would be enough for now. Maggie would find a position as quickly as possible in London, perhaps in a household where she might hope to rise to a lady’s maid or housekeeper one day.
