Chapter 11 Letters
M aggie awoke before dawn on Wednesday morning and lay staring at the ceiling. Today was the day, everyone knew it. Edward was to propose to Miss Belmont, before tomorrow’s ball which would become a celebration of their engagement. By choosing Miss Belmont and paving the way for an heir, he would secure his freedom from Doctor Morrison and his mother, hopefully for good. And as soon as he took that step Maggie would no longer be needed, would most certainly no longer be wanted on the premises by the Duchess.
The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed and chimed again. She wanted, needed to speak with Edward. She needed him to know that she loved him. It would make no difference, of course, for he must still choose Miss Belmont. But she needed to tell him, to speak privately with him one last time before they were separated forever.
She pulled the bell for Jane, who arrived after a brief delay.
“Sorry, Miss, I had to wait for the hot water. There’s so many maids downstairs trying to bring up water to the bedrooms.”
Maggie nodded without listening; she wanted to be dressed and able to leave the room as soon as possible.
“Your hair, Miss.”
“As quick as you can, Jane.”
As soon as she was finished Maggie hurried down one floor and along the corridor until she came to the ducal suites, one for the Duchess, one newly made over for Edward. She knocked on Edward’s door. No answer.
“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 Maggie something 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 the ton and 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.
She looked down at her pink muslin dress, a floating delicate thing embellished with tiny pink roses. Her hair was pinned in a manner that she had grown accustomed to and tiny pink rosebuds nestled in it. She gave a wry smile at it in the looking glass. The hair, the dress, they too were at a turning point with her now. Was another way possible?
A letter, written now and swiftly acted on, would see her become the Countess of Frampton. She would live in a castle only slightly less grand than Atherton Park and every day a maid would dress her and do her hair, a maid probably better born than herself, a girl who knew her own family and was of legitimate birth. And that girl would believe her mistress to be part of the ton , would believe it without question because it simply wasn’t possible that a countess could have been a foundling, could have been brought up to go into service. Maggie would be Margaret forever, for no-one would know her old name or where she came from. She would live a lie for the rest of her life and in so doing would be in fear every day of someone finding out, of one question too many, of making a mistake being made that would cost her dearly.
Or.
She could marry Joseph.
She would never again wear such a dress; she would wear cottons and wools. She would dress herself and her hair would be pulled back in a simple bun, without any fussy ringlets or looped braids. She might enter service, if she could be sure of never been seen by anyone whom she had once dined with or met at a ball. Although perhaps they would not even see her. She could kneel in their library to stoke the fire, serve them tea and they would not see her at all; she would only be another servant to them, a pair of hands, a quiet voice, one of many who existed only to service their needs and desires. Perhaps she might stay at home instead, and bear Joseph’s children. He was an elegant and experienced footman, he might even rise to butler one day, or house steward. She would be comfortably provided for. And Joseph would call her Maggie, he would know her origins and not reproach her for them. She could be honest with him; she would not live in fear of making a mistake which would expose her.
Both were good men, Lord Frampton even loved her, she was grateful that she did not have to weigh up riches against love, as so many of the women she had watched this past season must do, resigning themselves to a life of beautiful clothes and elegant coiffeurs and an empty heart.
If she chose to be with one of these men, she faced a choice between riches and honesty. A life of luxury and lies, or one of work and honesty. The women of the ton would not have hesitated. Countess of Frampton it was, then. Even Celine would direct her that way.
But. She did not love either man.
And she loved Edward.
It was no good pretending otherwise to herself. This love had existed before that first kiss, before their first waltz. It had been there before she ever stepped into the Atherton carriage at midnight. It had started, perhaps, that first time Edward smiled, that first time she felt the warmth of his skin against hers. She would not have known what it was, then. But she did now. And knowing it made the decision before her far easier.
She picked up the quill and opened the inkwell.
Dear Lord Frampton,
I am conscious of the great honour you did me in offering your hand in marriage. I thank you for your kindness and ask for your understanding in accepting my certain refusal, since my affections lie elsewhere. I hope that you will find a lady who will make you happy, as you deserve to be.
Yours,
Margaret Seton
Dear Joseph,
I must leave Atherton Park, but I shall always think of you with fondness and be grateful for the offer you made me. Please look after Edward, he will need you more than ever now. I hope that one day you will find a good woman to love and that she will bring you great happiness.
Your friend,
Maggie
There was one more letter to write, but she was not sure she could write it yet; already tears had risen to her eyes at the last two she had written. She would pack her chest before writing to Edward.
She glanced about her. What would be suitable for her new life? She gave a little laugh, although it sounded cheerless even to her own ears. Nothing. There was nothing in her lavish wardrobe suitable for the life she would be living. None of the silks, none of the evening gowns. The bonnets were absurdly too decorative, few if any of the shoes were sturdy enough… the riding outfits entirely unnecessary without a horse.
At last she chose, from the back of the press, the dresses Celine had made over for her in the early days of arriving at Atherton Park, two woollens, two cottons and one of the simplest summer muslins from her latest gowns. Half of her undergarments and only cotton stockings; silk would be ruined with regular use. A bonnet that might be called plain if its overly fanciful floral decorations were removed. Two aprons. Two pairs of boots and the very plainest indoor shoes she could find. A velvet reticule. A shawl, gloves and a dark blue wool pelisse with a fur collar to keep her warm in winter. It was still an ample wardrobe, one which would not disgrace a governess from a respectable family, while any maid could only dream of such good quality clothing. It would last her a few years before she needed to replace any of the items. Recalling that there was an old travelling trunk in the nursery, she went to fetch it. Once back in the room that had been hers these last months, she wiped the dust off it and carefully packed her selection, adding the coral necklace Edward had given her. She changed into travelling clothes, leaving some buttons undone for which she would need Celine’s help. Round her neck she hung the necklace Edward had given her, the locket tucked into her stays, sitting between her breasts. If she appeared smart while travelling, she would likely be treated better than if she appeared to be a commonplace maid. Finally, she sat back down at her writing desk and wrote a letter, quickly and neatly.
Dear Edward,
I wish you all happiness in your marriage and life with Miss Belmont.
I have been well provided for and will think of you kindly always.
Yours,
Margaret
She folded it but did not place it in an envelope; there was no need. Lies, all of it, but this was the letter the Duchess would see, and it could contain nothing else, or it would never reach Edward’s hand, of that she could be sure. So, lies it would have to be. No matter. Her true letter would reach him by safer means. She took a deep breath.
Dearest Edward,
I must call you dearest because you have become so very dear to me. That first day when I met you, when you shrank from any touch, afraid that I would torment you as so many had done before me, even then I felt something for you. I thought it was pity, but it was a bud that bloomed into something far more beautiful. Our days together have been joyful to me because I saw your true self emerge.
And oh, Edward, your true self is magnificent! I have seen you grow into yourself in every way. Your strength, your confidence, your kindness when you saw what power it could have in this world, these qualities are not something to be stamped out of a man.
Be bold, Edward. Be brave. You are everything a duke should be: kind, caring, loyal. You look after everyone who comes into your world, and it is wicked that those who should have cared for you the most caused you to doubt yourself, shut you away and lied to you until you could not tell what was true.
Doctor Morrison is gone for good. I have seen to it. It does not matter how, but know he will never darken your door again.
By the time you read this I will have gone. You do not need a companion any longer, indeed you never did at all, only someone who cared. You do not need to lie anymore. I was the lie, for a sane man does not need a nursemaid; you are the truth: you are the Duke of Buckingham and not just in name. Claim what is yours, Edward, believe that it is yours and it will be.
Do not fear for me, I have been provided for and I will be safe. But I am glad your mother has decreed that I should not stay to watch you marry Miss Belmont. My heart would break. I will strive to be happy for you if I know you are truly happy with her. She is a good person; I am sure she will make you a kindly wife if you do not let her come under your mother’s influence. Keep her close and loyal to you and I believe she will come to love you as I do.
I must go now. Goodbye, Edward. Not a day shall pass when I do not remember you in my thoughts and dreams. In them, you will be everything you deserve to be, and everything I know you are: happy, strong and your own man.
I will always love you. I will always be yours.
Maggie
This she placed in an envelope and sealed, then rang for Celine, who stared at Maggie’s packed trunk, her outdoor clothes.
“What are you doing?”
“I am leaving, on the Duchess’ instructions. The carriage will arrive for me in a few moments, and I need your help.”
“Does His Grace know you are leaving?”
“No, and he must not know. It will only unsettle him, and I cannot do that to him now he has made his choice, I cannot ruin his chance of happiness.”
Celine’s face showed what she thought of this, but she only nodded. “What do you need?”
“Help me with these buttons. Then I have a letter for Joseph and another which must be sent by the first post. Without anyone knowing.”
Celine took the letter and looked at Doctor Morrison’s name, gave a slow nod. “It shall be done.”
“This is for the Duchess,” she told Celine, handing her the folded note to Edward. She held out the envelope. “Will you give this to Edward directly, Celine? Without anyone else knowing?”
“You need to tell him what is in your heart,” said Celine. “To his face.”
“I cannot. He has chosen Miss Belmont –”
“Under duress!”
“Nonetheless, he chose her. And I… I have told him what I feel, but in a letter which he can discard, if he wishes, so that he does not have to look me in the eye and say he has changed his mind, that he does not care for me. Or that he does, but has chosen Miss Belmont because that is what a duke must do.”
“And if he chooses you? Where is he to find you?”
Maggie shook her head. “It is better if he does not search for me. He has made his choice.” She hesitated. “I will write to you when I am settled. If – if he is locked away again, send word to me.”
Celine stood silent for a moment, then she buttoned Maggie’s dress and pulled the bell to summon a footman. Within moments, Bartholomew appeared.
“Yes, Miss?”
“Miss Seton’s trunk needs carrying down. You will accompany her on the first stage of her journey to The Golden Grouse.”
“Yes, Duval. Shall I take it now, Miss?”
Maggie looked round the room for one last time. She would never again sleep in such a room, instead she would clean it, make the bed, lay out another woman’s dresses and toiletries if she was lucky. “Yes,” she managed at last. “Thank you, Bartholomew.”
Bartholomew shouldered the trunk and left the room, Celine turned to follow him, but Maggie caught her arm.
“Celine?”
“Yes?”
Maggie embraced her. “Thank you. For everything.”
Celine’s arms came round her back in a warm embrace. “I am sorry to see you go,” she said, voice muffled. “I hoped…”
Maggie pulled away, her eyes glistening, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. “So did I,” she said. “But it was not to be. I know my place. I have done everything I can for Edward, and now he has chosen a life, a path forward. I need to step out of his way.”
Down the staircase one last time, past the grand portraits, past the gilded plasterwork and along the thick carpets, onto the polished wooden floors. A breath of cool air reached her as Bartholomew held the door for her and she stepped out onto the cold hard stone of the steps, felt the crunch of gravel under her feet and climbed into the carriage. She settled herself, then looked out at Celine’s anxious face.
“Write to me to tell me you are safely settled,” said Celine, one hand on the windowsill of the carriage.
Maggie nodded, unable to speak and the carriage rolled forward, swept round the gravel driveway and headed down the avenue of trees towards the main gates.
The bustling coaching yard of The Golden Grouse greeted Maggie as she stepped out of the safety and comfort of the carriage. The footman set down her pitifully small trunk and bowed to her.
“Goodbye, Bartholomew.”
“Goodbye, Miss.” He hesitated, then said, in a rush, “Sorry you’re not staying at the Park, Miss. We – we all thought you was a – a good influence.” He paused, shocked at his daring, then added, “Pardon for speaking out of turn, Miss. I wish you well.”
Tears stung her eyes, and she opened them wider so that they would not fall and embarrass them both. “Thank you, Bartholomew. I was very happy there and will think kindly of you all.” She swallowed, but could not help adding, “Look after His Grace, he is a good man.”
He nodded earnestly. “He is, Miss. I’m proud to serve him.”
She patted his arm, touched. “Thank you.”
He bowed again and returned to his place on the carriage. The coachman nodded, and the Buckingham carriage moved swiftly out of the yard. Maggie watched it go, her last glimpse of the family crest, the bulrush and acorn, held by the ducal coronet. The dark blue exterior disappearing from view.
“Are you waiting for someone, Miss?”
Startled from her thoughts, Maggie realised the inn porter was speaking to her. “Yes,” she said hastily. “The stagecoach. I am travelling to London.”
“It’ll be along in half an hour, Miss, I’ll see you on it safely. Inside or outside?” he added, looking over her clothes with a frown. She had arrived in the Buckingham carriage, a footman had bowed to her, she was too well dressed to be a common maid, but her small battered trunk, a woman alone without a companion, let alone taking a stagecoach, meant she could not be high ranking. Perhaps he thought her a governess or similar, well-bred but fallen on hard times.
“Outside,” said Maggie. It would be cheaper, and she must think carefully about how she spent her money. There would be no private carriages, no grand London homes to stay in. But it was a sunny day; the outside of the stagecoach would not be too terrible.
She waited nervously for the stagecoach to arrive. Mail coaches came and went, even the post chaise, faster and more expensive, but, finally, the stagecoach came into view, the interior already full, four people on the outside seats, all men.
Maggie’s trunk was swiftly thrown up and lashed into place, before she was helped aboard, climbing up and trying to make herself safe, tucking her skirts tightly about her and getting a firm grip on the railing surrounding her, as well as keeping one hand on her trunk.
The driver cracked his whip and the coach pulled out of the yard, gathering speed. Maggie clutched at her bonnet which was threatening to fly away should the ribbons tying it come undone. This was a far cry from the comfort in which the Athertons travelled, in their private carriage, well-sprung and upholstered, with blankets and footwarmers in the winter, chilled drinks and open windows in the summer for a gentle breeze without any fear of bonnets being lost or the risk of falling from a perilous seat, their servants hurrying ahead at every stage to prepare meals and additional comforts for them as they arrived at each inn along the way. Her new life would be a world away from that which she had known for this last year.
Edward returned to the house unable to hide a smile on his face. He paused for a moment outside Maggie’s room, but it was still so early, he did not want to wake her. Well, no, that was a lie, he grinned to himself. He very much wanted to wake her. The idea of her lying soft and warm in her bed, of kneeling by her and stroking her unbound hair, touching her cheek…
That would all come later, he promised himself. He had things to do. He knew every step he wanted to take now; his path was shining clear in front of him. He rang the bell and told Joseph he wanted breakfast in his room to avoid making tedious conversation with the guests who would shortly descend to the dining room. There was only one person to whom he owed an explanation and an apology and that was Miss Belmont. He must put things right with her before he spoke to Maggie, but it would not take long. Hopefully, she would understand; she had a gentle heart, and he would be honest with her. No more lies. No more pretending.
He ate heartily, then washed and allowed Joseph to re-dress him in a more fitting manner. At ten, he made his way to the drawing room where he asked Miss Belmont into the rose garden, causing Lady Godwin to flutter her eyelashes at him as though she were the one being courted.
Outside among the roses he led her to a little bench behind a tall hedge and waited until she had taken a seat. He remained standing, aware that he could not be observed from the windows of the house, where no doubt their curious guests would even now be trying to spot them.
“Miss Belmont,” he began. It would be hard to say what he must, but he was done with lying and pretence.
“Your Grace, may I speak first?”
“Of course,” he said, taken aback by the mouselike girl having the boldness to interrupt him.
“I know what you are about to say and… I beg you will not say it.”
He stared at her. In all their conversations together, she had always acquiesced to anything he said, to the point where he had wondered if she had any opinions of her own at all. He took a moment to recover. “I have been… strongly encouraged –”
“By my parents. By your mother. Not by me.” Her eyes brimmed with tears.
He put out a hand and touched hers. “Miss Belmont, I brought you here to…”
“No.”
He stared at her.
“No, Your Grace. I will not marry you.”
He gave a little laugh, still surprised by her. “I was going to beg your forgiveness for not asking you to marry me.”
For a moment they both stared at each other. Then she gave a small smile and indicated the bench. “Will you sit with me, Your Grace? I think perhaps it is time we spoke plainly.”
He sat beside her. There was something different about her, he thought. Her voice was stronger, she seemed certain of herself.
“You love someone else?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. The honesty of it brought a smile to his face.
“So do I,” she said.
“Then why were you so much thrust upon me?”
“I could ask the same of you,” she said.
“The woman I love is…” He stopped, not wanting to lie, not wanting to tell the whole truth.
“Unexpected?” she asked, with a small smile.
He smiled back at her. “Yes. You could say that. And yours?”
“The same,” she said.
“Will my lack of a proposal be difficult for you?”
She made a little face. “It will cause disappointment for a little while, no doubt. They so badly wanted me to be a duchess.”
“I am sorry. I should have known my own mind sooner.”
She touched his hand lightly. “It can take a while to know our own true minds.”
“I… I am sorry we did not speak like this sooner. I had thought you…”
“A mouse?” She smiled at his awkward expression. “I know everyone calls me that.”
He nodded. “I am beginning to see you in a new light, Miss Belmont. I think I like you better now that I hear you speak your mind.”
“Are you about to propose to me after all, Your Grace?”
He laughed. “No. But I would like to ask you to be my friend.”
She held out her hand. “I would like that.”
He shook it. “Will you call me Edward?”
“Only if you will call me Elizabeth.”
“I hope you will truly think of me as a friend,” he said, standing.
She nodded. “I look forward to meeting your bride, although I think I can guess who she might be.”
He looked down at her. “Thank you. I hope to welcome you as a guest here again, when you have secured your own love match.”
She took his arm. “I will hold you to that, Edward.”
He escorted her back to her parents with a bow, while they immediately dragged her to a private room to be told everything that had occurred.
It was time to go to Maggie. Edward called for Joseph while he opened the drawer of his desk and took out a small leather box. While Joseph helped him out of his boots and into shoes, Edward twitched with impatience. In only a few moments, his happiness would be secured.
There was a sharp knock at the door.
“Enter,” called Edward, but the door was already open, his mother framed in the doorway.
“I need to speak with you. Joseph, you may leave.”
“Please do not command my servants when I am in the room,” said Edward. “I will dismiss my valet when I see fit.”
The Duchess’ eyes opened wide in shock.
Joseph looked at Edward.
“Thank you, Joseph, you may leave us,” said Edward with exaggerated courtesy.
As soon as the door closed the Duchess made her way across the room. “You need to propose.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Do not play the fool with me, Edward. You know full well that tomorrow’s ball is planned as an engagement celebration. Therefore, you need to propose. Now. All our guests are expecting it. Lord and Lady Godwin are expecting it.”
“I cannot propose to Miss Belmont.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“I do not love her.”
“Love is not necessary.”
“Perhaps not to you. It is to me.”
The Duchess fixed him with an icy glare. Edward met her gaze squarely. To his surprise, the conversation he had been dreading was turning out to be almost a thrill. The relief of speaking his mind, of knowing his mind and being certain of it, of feeling confident in the choices he was making, was like sunshine streaming in through him, the warmth of it deep within him. “I absolutely will not live my future life without love. Too much of my past has been spent without it to forgo it any longer.”
“And whom do you propose to marry?”
Edward smiled. “That is none of your business.”
“It is most certainly my business, I –”
Edward held up one hand and the Duchess, shocked, fell silent. “I am the Duke of Buckingham. I am of age. My choice of wife is not your business, Mama. I have done you the courtesy of informing you that I will not be marrying Miss Belmont and I have explained this to her also. I will inform you of my bride-to-be’s name when she has accepted me.”
He made to leave the room, but she spoke. “It had better not be Margaret.”
He turned and surveyed her with a cold expression. “And why is that, Mama? Be careful how you respond.”
“She has already gone.”
“Gone? Gone where?”
“I do not know.”
He crossed the room in two strides, his face very close to hers, voice low and angry. “Where did she go?”
She swallowed. “London, I believe.”
“London? When did she leave?”
She could not meet his eyes. “I gave her the carriage as far as The Golden Grouse. After that she was going to take the midday stagecoach.”
“When?”
“This morning, about ten. While you were in the Rose Garden with Miss Belmont.”
He stared at her in horror. “But that was more than two hours ago.”
“She chose to go.”
He gave a half-laugh. “I do not believe you. She would not have left me without saying goodbye. She would not have left at all, had she not thought –” He stopped. “What did you tell her?”
She stood silent before him.
He put his face close to hers, the words coming out through his teeth. “What did you say to her?”
“I said you had proposed to Miss Belmont.”
He groaned. “How could you? How could you let Maggie think that I did not care for her, that I had chosen Miss Belmont?”
“Well, she is gone. She took the money I promised her and went.”
“You paid her off, so that she would leave?”
“She believed you were going to be married to Miss Belmont, her work was done.” She put a hand on his arm. “You believe you love her, Edward, but she is not a lady. She is a maid, a foundling, a nobody. She has no family. You could not possibly marry her. It is better for you – for her – for us all – if she goes. She has money, she has references, she –”
“You gave her references and money. You did what you needed to do to get rid of her, in other words.”
“She took them. What does that tell you about her, Edward? That she saw caring for you as a job. A task. Which she had fulfilled.” She handed him the note Maggie had written. “Here, see for yourself.”
He glanced down at the note and shook his head. “Unsealed? Meant for your eyes rather than mine?”
“She claimed what was owed to her and left at once, understanding there was nothing else here for her.”
The urge to strike her rose up in him, such was the rage he felt. But that was his father’s way, not his. He would not allow the baser side of his blood to take over, he would stay true to his own path. He stepped away from her and pulled the bell, summoning Joseph, who, judging by the alacrity of his response, had been hovering outside the door.
“Have my horse brought round immediately.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“If the stagecoach left at midday, she can only have travelled four or five miles beyond the inn so far. On Merlin, I can catch her up within half an hour.”
“Edward!”
“Yes?”
“I forbid this!”
Edward laughed out loud. “It is too late for forbidding, Mama.”
And he was gone, leaving the Duchess standing alone, a grim look on her face before she pulled the bell and said to the footman who appeared, “Our fastest carriage, at once.”