Chapter 12 The Duke of Buckingham
The stagecoach rocked along for mile after mile and already Maggie regretted her frugality in purchasing an outside ticket, for the sun was hot and the road dusty, so that she was already too warm and half-choked. It would be a different life now, she realised, but she could cling to one thought at least. She had watched Edward grow in strength and confidence and now that she had sent Doctor Morrison about his business, she could only hope that Elizabeth would be a good wife to Edward and that he would be happy. Still, she could not help the tears that trickled down her cheeks. She would never see him again. She tried to pay attention to the farms and pasturing animals they passed by, while thinking through her plans.
Once in London, she must find lodgings and work. Perhaps she could return to the Foundling Hospital, although now that she had left its confines and seen something of the world, she shuddered at the thought of its limited enclosure. She had the Duchess’ references. It should not be hard to find employment as a maid in a respectable and affluent household, where she might in time rise to become a housekeeper. It would be a hard-working life, but she was not afraid of that, only of the loneliness she felt now on leaving Edward and surely that pain would subside? Surely it would. She let go of the rail to wipe away a tear, reluctant to draw unwanted attention.
“Watch out, driver,” called one of the passengers who was facing backwards. “You’ve a fast rider behind you. I think he wants the road.”
The driver grumbled but moved the stagecoach a few feet to the left. Maggie could hear the heavy sound of a galloping horse behind them growing closer, and turned to see who could have such urgent business.
Edward! He was urging on Merlin, his face fierce with intent, his eyes scanning the stagecoach and lighting up at the sight of her.
“Stop the coach!” she cried.
“This ain’t your private carriage, miss,” snorted the driver. “This here’s a public stagecoach and if you –”
“Stop the coach!” roared Edward from alongside them and, startled, the driver reined in the horses and the stagecoach rumbled to a stop. Edward leapt down from Merlin and strode to Maggie’s side. He held up his hand to her.
“Come down, Maggie,” he said, his voice commanding.
“Is this gentleman known to you, miss?” inquired one of her fellow passengers.
“I – yes,” said Maggie, her hand reaching Edward’s and clambering down from the side of the stagecoach to the ground, where Edward crushed her into his arms.
“Thank God,” he ground out. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“Sir,” said the driver, regaining his dignity as the occupants of the coach stared at Edward and Maggie embracing. “Are you related to this young lady? Because if not –”
Edward let go of Maggie and turned to face the driver. “I am the Duke of Buckingham,” he said. “And this young lady is my betrothed. Have your man lift down her belongings. She will be returning home in my private carriage.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” grovelled the man.
Maggie’s belongings were quickly lifted down.
“Drive on,” said Edward.
Still full of staring travellers, the stagecoach rumbled away, leaving Edward and Maggie, Merlin and Maggie’s trunk alone by the side of the road.
“You read my letter.”
He shook his head. “There was no time for letters. As soon as my mother confessed that she had lied to you and turned you out I had to come after you. What did you write?”
She shook her head. “It does not matter.”
He touched her cheek. “I should have told you back in March that I loved you, as soon as I realised it myself, that first night at Almack’s. I did not have the courage; I was afraid it would lead to being locked away. At the masquerade, I could not contain my feelings, they burst out of me, but afterwards… I am ashamed that I did not fight for you.”
“You had a lot to lose,” she said quietly.
“And I nearly lost you,” he said. “I waited too long and almost lost you, I will not risk that again.” He felt in his pocket and pulled out a little leather box, which he opened. In it sat a magnificent sapphire ring set in gold. “I have been carrying this betrothal gift with me for weeks. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife, Maggie?”
She gasped, touched the ring with one finger, then looked up at him. “It is the colour of your eyes,” she whispered.
“My love. Say yes.”
It was impossible. It would not be allowed. “Yes.”
He slipped the ring onto her finger, before cupping her face in his hands, kissing her lightly, then with more passion. “We will marry at once.”
“Are we to run away together?”
He shook his head, serious. “No. I will not run away; I will not go to Gretna Green or hide you as though you are someone to be ashamed of. I love you. We will be married at Atherton Park by special license tomorrow morning, and the ball tomorrow evening will be our celebration.”
She stared at him.
“If that plan meets with your approval?” he added.
“I think I am dreaming,” she said wonderingly.
“You are not dreaming. Shall I prove it to you?”
Her lips parted. “Yes.”
He lowered his face to hers again but the sound of a carriage approaching made them both look up. The Atherton carriage came racing towards them, the four horses sweating as the driver whipped them on, then, seeing them, suddenly slowed, coming to a stop a few feet away. The footman leapt down, opened the carriage door and lowered its steps to reveal the Duchess, her expression wrathful as she stepped out.
“Drive to that tree,” she hissed to the driver, indicating a large oak some way further down the road so that they might not be heard.
“I am glad you have found us, Mother,” said Edward pleasantly. “Otherwise, Maggie would have had to ride Merlin back to the inn to wait for me to summon a carriage for her.”
“You are supposed to be on your way to London by now,” said the Duchess to Maggie, ignoring him.
“She was indeed,” said Edward. “A good thing I found her, as we are to be married.”
“You cannot even consider such a thing,” spat the Duchess. “She is nothing but a nursemaid.” She turned to Maggie. “You are not even from a respectable family. You are an orphan, from goodness knows what sort of background. Know your place!”
Edward opened his mouth, but Maggie put her hand on his arm. She took a long, slow breath, Matron’s “know your place” echoing from her past, and met the Duchess’ furious gaze. “I know my worth. I know that I am wanted. My place is by Edward’s side as his wife.”
“You cannot possibly think –” began the Duchess.
“But she can,” interrupted Edward. “I have asked Maggie to marry me, and she has said yes. She will be my wife, and the Duchess of Buckingham. And you, Mama, with the greatest respect, will become the Dowager Duchess, and you will move into the Dower House as soon as we are wed. And you will treat Maggie with the respect she deserves and stay out of our affairs, unless you can learn to be civil.”
The Duchess stood silent for a moment, so silent that Maggie wondered whether she was going to speak at all. Then a bitter smile spread over her face as she addressed Maggie.
“You played a good game,” she said, her voice tight with anger.
Maggie lifted her chin. “It was never a game to me,” she said. “It was never a game because I cared for Edward and would have done anything to make him happy.”
“And do you think the ton will accept an orphan from the Foundling Hospital, no doubt a bastard into the bargain, as the Duchess of Buckingham? You will never be received anywhere.”
Maggie couldn’t help it, she laughed out loud. “But I am not a bastard orphan from the Foundling Hospital,” she said. “I am Margaret Seton, a distant cousin of the Duchess of Buckingham, taken into the Duchess’ home out of the goodness of her heart after I lost both my unfortunate parents, and I have just made a love match with her son the Duke of Buckingham. It is a gloriously romantic story which will enchant all who hear it, and it is your game that has turned against you. If you say otherwise, if you tell the ton who I really am, the scandal will reflect on you. You will never be received anywhere. A mother who locked up her son when there was nothing wrong with him that could not have been cured by stopping his father bullying him. A woman who lied about his wellbeing to try and marry him off to an unsuspecting respectable family, prepared to allow his supposed madness to taint their bloodline? Who passed off a bastard-born orphan maid as her cousin to avoid any suspicion as to her son’s suitability for marriage, all so that she could cling to the estate and title, the wealth, she so much enjoys? I cannot imagine what fun the scandalmongers would have with that, Your Grace.”
There was silence for a moment, before Edward spoke. “We have a wedding to arrange, so we must return to Atherton Park at once. Mama, Maggie will go in the carriage with you. You may either be civil to her or say nothing at all. I will know if you are uncivil.” He turned to Maggie and took her hand, kissed it and led her to the carriage, where the footman stood to attention as she climbed in.
Edward stepped aside as his mother was assisted by the footman, who closed the door behind her. Edward looked in at the window. “I will see you at home, Maggie,” he said gently, then glanced at his mother. “Not an uncivil word,” he reminded her.
Maggie watched as he swung into Merlin’s saddle and rode away, back towards Atherton Park, while the carriage was slowly turned around, to follow him.
When he was out of sight Maggie sat back in the seat and looked at the Duchess.
“I will marry him,” she said. “It is not for the money or the title or any of those things that matter to you. It is because I love him. I loved him before I even came here, when he was a nobody and we were happy together in Ivy Cottage. You will not believe that, of course, but it is true.”
The Duchess met her gaze with a stony glare.
“Very well,” said Maggie. “Then we will not speak until you are ready. Whenever that day comes.”
When they arrived at Atherton Park, Edward took Maggie by the hand.
“We have things to arrange, Mama,” he told the Duchess as she emerged from her carriage. “I will see you tomorrow morning in chapel for our wedding.”
“You cannot marry tomorrow. You would need –”
“A special license, I know,” said Edward, finishing her sentence. “I have one. It is one of the last things I did before I left London. I did not know if I could find the courage to use it, but now I am glad I did. We will be married at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. Joseph will take the license to the vicar this afternoon and inform him of my intentions.” He gave a little laugh. “It is a good thing she is of age and that you had her registered as living in this parish under the name you invented for her, mother,” he said. “You made my task that much easier.”
They left her standing on the driveway, her face pale.
Maggie expected Edward to lead the way upstairs, but instead he walked briskly to the end of the hallway, still holding her hand, then opened a door which led downstairs, into the kitchens.
“What are we doing?”
“Giving orders for tomorrow, of course,” said Edward cheerfully.
“Aren’t you supposed to ring when you want to see a servant?”
“Why stand on ceremony? I prefer to do things my way.”
She giggled. “I scarcely recognise you. Charging about telling people what to do.”
He grinned at her. “I’m a changed man.”
“And what miracle brought that about?”
He stopped at once and came back up a step so that he could put his hands on either side of her face. “You did, of course. You are the miracle in my life. You have taken a broken man and put the pieces back together. You took a poor wretch and turned him into a duke.”
“While you took a poor foundling maid and turned her into a lady?”
He shook his head. “You were always a lady. You are a greater lady than half the ton will ever be.” He kissed her, a soft kiss at first which became more passionate, his hands leaving her face and clasping her waist, drawing her to himself, then broke away from her. “If I kiss you for one more moment I will forget myself and any right to be called a gentleman. Come,” and he took her hand again and guided her down the stairs into the kitchen, where a scullery maid gasped at the sight of them and hid behind a door.
“Mrs Barton?” he called out.
Mrs Barton came towards them, surprised. “Your Grace! What are you doing here?”
“I have a task for you, Mrs Barton. I know you can work marvels, but I’m afraid it will be a great bother.”
“Anything for you, Your Grace,” she smiled.
“I am to be married tomorrow. To Miss Seton.”
The cook’s eyes grew round for a moment, before crinkling into a deep smile. “Ah Your Grace, that does make me happy to hear. Congratulations to you, and Miss Seton,” she added with a bobbing curtsey to Maggie. “He couldn’t have done better.”
“Thank you,” said Maggie, suddenly shy.
“As it is our wedding tomorrow, Mrs Barton, I shall require a wedding breakfast of you. Our guests are all here, and the ball and dinner are already in the hands of Monsieur Cerf. But breakfast tomorrow will come after chapel, where we will be wed. So I need you to prepare your very finest breakfast, for we shall be both happy and hungry. I shall trust you with the bride cake.”
“It shall be perfect,” promised Mrs Barton. “And I shall be right pleased to make it so.”
Edward kissed her cheek. “I know it will be most excellent. The servants are to have cakes and wine the evening after the ball, to drink our health,” he called over his shoulder as he pulled Maggie by the hand back up the stairs.
Maggie glanced back to see Mrs Barton’s cheeks flushed pink and heard her calling for all her kitchen maids as they neared the top of the stairs, for no doubt they would now have to bake all afternoon and well into the night, though she did not think Mrs Barton would mind, excited as she was for Edward’s future happiness. Seeing Edward give instructions, without deferring constantly to his mother, confirmed to her how far he had come from when she first met him.
“If you are making arrangements for our wedding breakfast, I think I should speak to Celine about a wedding gown,” she said.
Edward pulled her close to him. “I would marry you in the clothes you are in now,” he said.
“Celine would die of shame.”
He laughed. “Very well. Go to Celine. Rest after all that has happened today. I will have a tray sent to your room. Tomorrow when I see you again you will be my bride. It has been a long day. We will say nothing to the guests till the wedding is done.”
Celine was full of joy at the news but looked surprised at Maggie’s choice of a wedding gown from those in her wardrobe.
“So simple?”
Maggie nodded.
“Then I will trim the bonnet with white roses for you and it will be done by morning.”
Maggie spent the last few hours of the day in a daze in her room, ate the food sent to her and then went to bed, scarcely able to believe she would be married the next day.
Maggie woke at dawn and had to wait for Celine who appeared holding a fresh white muslin and a bonnet she had trimmed with white silk roses. She knelt at Maggie’s feet, making a tiny adjustment to the embroidery on the hem of her dress.
“Joseph has said he will be leaving after the wedding,” she said. “His Grace has given him a generous sum and his blessing.”
“I hope you will not be leaving?”
“I’ll stay with Her Grace when she moves to the Dower House. But I’ll finish training Jane before I go, unless you want someone else? You can have anyone you want.”
“No, I will keep Jane. I’d have you if I could, but I think you are too fond of the Duchess.”
“I’d like to stay with her.”
“I wish Edward’s mother would be kinder to him, at least. I know she will always hate me; I will have to make my peace with it. But it hurts Edward to have such a cold mother. He cannot forgive her for standing by and doing nothing when his father bullied him, allowing him to be locked away as a lunatic when he was only afraid and hurt.”
Celine said nothing.
“I know you have served her a long time,” said Maggie. “You must see some good in her, I suppose. I struggle to see it, myself. But I am sorry she cannot be reconciled to the two of us being together, even if only because it makes Edward happy.”
Celine sat back on her heels. “She was married very young,” she said.
Maggie thought of the painting in the hall, the newly-wed Duchess, barely a grown woman, coquettish and pretty in a magnificent dress.
Celine sighed as she bent to lace up Maggie’s rose-coloured slippers. “She was one of the most desirable matches of her coming-out season, considered a great beauty. She could have married anyone she chose. There were men falling in love with her everywhere, and she received many proposals. But she was only a girl, believing in fairy tales. Here was an unmarried duke seeking a wife and she thought it was meant to be. The chance to become a duchess, one of only a handful in the kingdom, was too great a lure. She fancied herself in love and married him despite his reputation for being a rake, possessing a bad temper when he had been drinking.”
Maggie sat down on the dressing chair, her face close to Celine.
“Was he unkind to her as well as Edward?”
Celine nodded. “He used his fists on her more than once. She lost a baby girl she was carrying after a beating he gave her. When Edward was little, she tried to stand up for him, but it only made his father worse and in the end she withdrew. She spent most of her days in her rooms, left the boys to the care of a nursemaid and allowed the Duke to do as he wished. They never ate together unless there was company. After the incident with Pigeon, the Duke said Edward must be mad and wanted him locked away and she said nothing, allowed him to hire Doctor Morrison and have him taken away.”
“Her own child?”
“She cried all night the day he was taken,” said Celine. “I was new here then.”
Maggie tried to imagine the Duchess crying and failed.
“She said he would be safer under Doctor Morrison’s care than here,” said Celine.
Maggie thought of the pale, frightened young man she had first met scarce above a year ago and was unsure. But the Duchess would not have seen the treatments Edward had been subjected to, she would only have received reports saying that all was well. Perhaps she felt reassured that her delicate son was being taken good care of, far away from his father’s harsh lessons.
“A mother does not give up a child without a reason,” said Celine.
The ledgers at the Foundling Hospital agreed with her. In them were the tragic stories of women who had been abandoned by those who should have protected them; from families and friends to lovers and husbands, leaving them destitute and unable to care for their children. They gave them up only when they had lost all faith in themselves and the world around them, certain that by keeping them they would only visit greater suffering on them. Unable to bear the thought, they had instead turned to the only place that offered hope, left their children within its doors and taken away with them only abiding regret and sorrow, held close to their hearts for the rest of their unhappy lives. The pathetically worthless tokens left by some, who hoped one day to return and reclaim their child, had always been heart-breaking to Maggie, though perhaps worse were those who had left nothing at all, miserably certain of never being able to return.
Maggie nodded. “I will try to find a way to breach the gap between us,” she said. “I am ready, now, I think.”
“You must have a veil. Wait here.”
Celine was back in a short while with a package that she unwrapped with care, disclosing a short but beautiful veil trimmed with delicate lace, which she draped over Maggie’s bonnet, covering her face. “It was my mother’s on her wedding day. She was a happy bride and wife.”
Maggie hugged her. She had been afraid Celine would bring out the Duchess’ wedding veil from storage and she did not like the idea of something both overly grand and tainted with an unhappy marriage.
“And flowers,” said Celine. “I have sent Jane for them.”
Jane, eyes shining with excitement, arrived holding a bouquet of white roses mixed with pink sweet peas, whose fragrance filled the room.
The chapel was all but empty. Only the Duchess, Celine, Jane and Joseph were invited to be their witnesses, for Edward had shaken his head at the idea of inviting all their guests to attend.
“If I could have only Maggie and myself there, I would,” he had said firmly and so it was that they stood together before the vicar and listened to his words echo around them, the scent of roses and sweet peas perfuming the cool morning air.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man’s innocency…”