Page 3 of A Lady's Heart Deceived
She greeted her parents with a tight smile. “Good morning, Papa. Good morning, Mama.”
“Where are you off to in such undue haste?” asked Mary.
“Town. Some errands. And to speak to someone regarding Robert’s statue,” she replied.
When Hugh and Mary exchanged an all too familiar look, Maggie ignored it. Her father was the only member of the family who seemed to find it odd that she wanted to commission a statue for her late fiancé.
“I see. Is your sister going with you?” asked Hugh.
“No. I am perfectly alright going on my own. Two footmen and the driver will be with me. Besides, I’m only going to the Horse Guards.”
Only a reckless fool would attack a young woman riding around town in the Radley family carriage. A coach which had both the Strathmore coat of arms emblazoned on the side as well as the personal insignia of the Bishop of London.
After giving Mary and Hugh a quick hug, she hurried out the front door and crossed the courtyard of Fulham Palace to the waiting carriage. She did not wish to discuss either her life or her plans for the future. She had important business to attend to, a man to see.
And if Captain P. Denford was foolish enough to get too close, Maggie could guarantee he would be left with bruises where her finger would stab him repeatedly in the chest.
“Cease and desist. How dare he?”
Chapter Three
The six-mile journey into London took the best part of an hour. Travelling in from Fulham via Chelsea to Westminster was always slow-going in the morning. Carriages and heavily laden carts crowded the way. Maggie stared out the window, lost in her thoughts. On the seat next to her was a leather satchel stuffed full of papers.
In the eight months since she had decided to go ahead with Robert’s memorial, Maggie had written a significant number of letters. Leaving nothing to chance, she had painstakingly made copies of all of them. Nothing and no one were going to deter her from her mission.
Thousands of British and allied soldiers had died at Waterloo, but only one had held her heart. Only he deserved to have a statue standing in his home city for the world to know of his sacrifice in the service of King and country.
The Radley carriage drew up out the front of the Horse Guards in Horse Guard Parade. One of the Radley household footmen quickly leaped down from the carriage and opened the door. Maggie collected her belongings and stepped out. Today was a day for getting things done.
No sooner had she checked her skirts and tucked her satchel under her arm then a loud shout of, “You cannot leave your conveyance there” arose from behind her.
She turned. A smartly dressed soldier marched with great purpose across the parade ground toward the carriage. His arms and legs moved in time with one another. Up, down, up, down. He pointed furiously at the carriage as he approached. “Move it! Move it!” he bellowed.
The startled footman looked to Maggie for guidance.
“Ask the driver to take the carriage around to the other side of St. James’s Park. Once I have finished my business at the Horse Guards, I can walk there and meet you. I shall be quite safe,” she instructed him. It was only a matter of a hundred yards or so. The chances of her coming to harm in such a short distance were quite remote.
“Very good, Miss Radley,” replied the footman.
The soldier stopped in front of Maggie and stood stiffly to attention. “This place is for army business, miss. If you wish to take a stroll, the park is the place for you. I suggest you follow your footman and return to your carriage.”
Maggie straightened her spine. She had come prepared for a confrontation and was more than ready to begin with the man standing in front of her. “I am not here on pleasure. I have business with the British Army. And as for your edict about me not being permitted to stop my carriage, I must confess to a degree of ignorance. I didn’t realize that the army had rules against young women being allowed to alight safely from their chosen method of transportation. My behavior is clearly scandalous. Would it help if I promise that next time, I shall endeavor to leap from my conveyance while it is still in motion?” She raised her eyebrows, cool and composed. If he wanted to argue the point, she was more than willing.
“Now if you don’t mind, I shall continue with my morning.”
Unless that is going to break yet another of your rules.
She nodded in the direction of the main entrance to the large cream brick building. “Is that where I should go if I wish to speak to someone from the Secretary at War’s office?”
The soldier frowned. He opened his mouth as if to say something but stopped and clamped it shut.
Don’t try to give me a lecture or instruct me this morning. I am not in the mood.
“I have important business inside,” she added.
“Yes, it is the door to the war office, but civilians are not permitted to use it under any circumstances,” replied the soldier.
Clutching the satchel to her body, Maggie rounded on him. “Riddle me this—how am I to speak to someone on the staff of the office of records if I cannot get inside? Or should I climb in through a window? And if that is the case, then I would be obliged if you could point me in the direction of which window has the easiest exterior access. As you can no doubt imagine, long skirts are rather difficult to hitch.”
