Page 28 of A Lady's Heart Deceived
I am jealous of a man I have never met. Someone who died in battle. What sort of person does that make me?
“Little Park Street is close by. You never know—the Taylors may still be at that address. People don’t tend to move unless it is necessary. And if Robert Taylor was still a young man when he died, then there is a good chance that someone in Little Park Street will know his family,” said the deacon.
A reluctant Piers nodded his agreement. “You are probably right. It would be worth paying a visit to the house where he was born. Thank you.”
To find out more about him. And whether the rest of what he told Maggie was indeed a lie. But if he really was an officer, why doesn’t the army have any record of him?
Mission accomplished, Piers left the church and headed back to St. Mary’s Street. He was sorely tempted to take a detour via Little Park Street, but he resisted. Much as he wanted to push forward and find out more, he was forced to acknowledge that this was Maggie’s quest. She should be the one to make the decision about whether they would reach out to Robert’s family. All he could do was accept and respect whatever she decided.
But there was one thing he wouldn’t allow her to do, and that was to go and visit the Taylor family on her own. Piers was firm in that regard. Someone had to be there for Maggie when she finally confronted the truth of her fiancé’s past.
He may well have existed, but Robert Taylor still had a lot of explaining to do. Even if it was from beyond the grave.
Chapter Eighteen
Maggie stared at her gowns laid out on the bed. They had been the staples of her wardrobe for the past two and a half years, and until today, she had worn them with a sense of pride and dignity. Her gaze took in the black, the dull grays, and the washed-out lilac. It was a palette of misery, the visual signs of her grief.
She was possessed with an overwhelming need to cast all the garments aside and never wear them again. They no longer represented who she was or her state of mind. Earlier, she had slipped the betrothal ring from her hand and put it in her travel bag. It was time to move on.
I feel a sense of change in me. And it’s a good one.
Coventry was a large city. There were shops where she could purchase new gowns. One or two would be enough to see her through this trip. Maggie could just imagine the smile on her mother’s face when she walked through the door at Fulham Palace wearing a dress of a colorful hue.
“You have served me well, but now it is time that we part ways,” she whispered to her dresses.
Decision made, she donned her lilac gown for the last time, then went in search of Elizabeth.
The morning spent wandering the drapery stores and shops of Coventry yielded a whole new wardrobe for Maggie. At the back of the fitting room in Elizabeth’s favorite modiste, she had uncovered a pale apple green and rose-striped ready-made gown. To her delight, the dress fitted. After trying it on, she decided to buy it. Further examination of the rest of the workroom wardrobes resulted in a pale pink, and a deep blue gown, which joined her growing collection. But the grand discovery of the day was a scarlet red dress, cinched at the waist, which fitted Maggie so perfectly that it could only have been destiny which brought the two of them together.
As soon as they returned home, Maggie gave all her other gowns to the lady’s maid who Elizabeth had assigned to her. The maid was more than delighted to take the cast-off garments. Anything made by a top London modiste would fetch a pretty penny on the thriving secondhand clothes market.
Deciding to keep the red gown for a special occasion, Maggie changed into the blue dress. She instantly transformed from her dowdy-looking self to something faintly resembling the Maggie Radley of old. There was even a smile on her lips as she considered her reflection in the dressing mirror.
Stepping into Maggie’s room, Elizabeth nodded her approval. “It suits you so much better than those other gowns. And it goes beautifully with your hair.”
She took a hold of Maggie’s hand. “I know we have known one another only a day or so, but I am proud of you. It takes strength to move on from loss. My mother was widowed young, and I can still remember the day four years after my father died when she came home with a new cream-colored gown. It wasn’t the dress; it was the light which had returned to her eyes that gave me such joy.”
“I think I know how she might have been feeling. The moment I put this dress on, a weight lifted off my shoulders. Tell me, did your mother ever remarry?” Maggie’s gaze shifted from the mirror, and she met the tear-filled eyes of her hostess.
“Yes. To a lovely man who, after proposing to Mama, asked if I would consider calling him Papa. He honored the memory of my father with that simple request. And he has made my mother happy every day since.”
A tide of emotion welled up inside Maggie—a sense of hope for the future. That someday she, too, might find a man who would bring her happiness. That love would once more grace her heart.
The sound of the front door being closed drifted upstairs. Elizabeth hurried out to the landing and called out, “Piers, we are up here.”
“Ah, very good. Is Maggie with you?”
“Yes, I am,” she replied.
The thrum of his boots echoed up the stairs, and he quickly appeared. He gave Elizabeth a brief hug, then turned to Maggie. A flush raced to her cheeks as his gaze settled on her gown and an approving smile formed on his lips.
“You look lovely, Maggie. Is that new?” he asked.
Her ears and cheeks burned. Piers had an effect on her, she couldn’t control. It was sweet of him to have noticed the change in her attire. The glint in his eyes spoke of a deeper appreciation. She swallowed deeply, trying to keep her face from going up in flames.
I’m so pleased he likes the gown. And he thinks I look lovely.
“I bought it this morning. Elizabeth kindly took me shopping and I thought it might be nice to wear something with a little more color.”
