A Christmas Scandal. Jane GoodgerЧитать онлайн книгу.
were living in a palace. Or should I call you Your Grace? Your Graces?” She let out a bit of laughter, feeling quite like she was about to lose the very tenuous grip she had on her emotions. She forged ahead.
“Your last letter to me had me believing you were living in a shambles, in a deteriorating old castle that was falling down upon your head. Mama, isn’t this the most beautiful home you’ve ever seen?”
Elizabeth laughed, then pulled her friend in for another embrace. “I’ve missed you so much, Maggie,” she said, tears making her eyes shine brightly. “You must bring Arthur here to live for I shall not let you go.”
At the mention of Arthur’s name, Maggie almost lost her smile. Of course, Elizabeth wouldn’t know about Arthur. She wouldn’t know about anything. She wouldn’t know they were destitute, that her father was in prison, that Arthur had jilted her, that she was completely ruined beyond redemption. That every time she smiled she felt as if something inside her was bending and would surely snap in two if she were forced to smile too much. She wouldn’t know anything.
“That’s a splendid idea. I do believe Maggie could convince Arthur of anything,” her mother said in a frenetically joyous way that left Maggie with no other choice but to lie or else make a fool of her mother. She wished her mother had given her some sort of warning that, in addition to pretending their maids had abandoned them, she would have to pretend she was still engaged.
“I shall write Arthur this very day and tell him to book passage,” Maggie said brightly, after giving her mother a telling look. “Do you think there’s room enough here for us both?” Her mother was so visibly relieved by her daughter’s fabrications, Maggie felt slightly less guilty for lying to her friend. She had plenty of time to tell the truth.
The small gathering laughed and Maggie was quite certain she had fooled them all, though she didn’t dare look at Lord Hollings. He’d always had an uncanny way of seeing right through her. When she finally gathered the courage to look his way, she realized how foolish she was being for thinking whatever she said even mattered to him. He was engaged in a conversation with one of the children and apparently not even paying attention to her.
“You must be exhausted,” Elizabeth said. “Your things should be in your rooms by now.” She turned to a plainly dressed woman standing sedately off to one side. “Mrs. Stevens, would you please have someone escort Miss Pierce and Mrs. Pierce to their rooms? Dinner is at eight, but we often meet in the library before if you’re up to it.”
“You sound much too much like your mother,” Maggie joked, then laughed at the look of pure horror on her friend’s face. Then the two women dissolved into laughter.
“You are just what my wife needed,” the duke said. “She thinks I’m entirely too stodgy. This house needs a bit more laughter.”
Maggie and her mother made their escape to their rooms, following behind a crisply dressed upstairs maid. Her mother chatted beside her, completely unaware that her daughter was on the edge of losing herself. Her entire body felt numb and she was shaking uncontrollably. Only by grasping her hands tightly together could she mask the trembling.
The maid led them to a three-room apartment that contained a small sitting room bookended by two of the loveliest bedrooms Maggie had ever seen. Hers was done up in butter yellow with pure white trimmings and deep red accents. Every bit of furniture, every carpet on the floor looked as if no one had ever used it before. It was likely true that no one had, she realized, recalling Elizabeth’s detailed letters about the home’s disrepairs. Walking across a blue sitting room, Maggie peeked into her mother’s room finding a similar color scheme, but this room was primarily deep red with white trim and yellow accents.
“Lovely, isn’t it?” Maggie asked from the door.
“Oh, Maggie, I am so glad we’ve come,” her mother said, with a rather unexpected gleam in her eye. It did not take long before Maggie found out what that gleam was about. “When I first saw Lady Matilda I had the horrible feeling that he’d gotten quickly married since the last time we’d seen him. But it is clear Lord Hollings is still available and still very much interested in you, my dear.” Her mother was positively giddy.
Just last summer, her mother had had high hopes that Lord Hollings would propose to her. Maggie never did confide to anyone that the earl had been paying special attention to her only to dissuade other marriage-minded mamas from hounding him. At the time, Maggie welcomed a way to thwart the Wright brothers from a similar matrimonial pursuit. In all of her life she would remember that Newport summer as the happiest of times.
And what followed as the worst.
For Lord Hollings had left her without saying good-bye, without promises. Without hope. Now he was here, in what she’d thought would be a safe haven for her heart.
“Lord Hollings is not interested in me,” Maggie said, suddenly weary.
“Of course he is,” her mother said. “He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.”
“Your imagination.”
“Oh, no.” Her mother clasped her hands together, much as a child does before a tray full of sweets. “This is an opportunity we cannot let go.”
“Mother, please,” Maggie said, bringing her hands to her temples in a futile effort to stem her growing headache.
Harriet looked shocked, then repentant. “I’m sorry, dear. You know how badly I feel about Arthur. None of this would have happened had your father not gotten us into this situation and I feel partly responsible for that. I only want the best for you.”
“I know, Mama,” she said, softening her voice. “What’s best for me is to stay with you and Papa forever. I truly have no desire to marry.” Maggie looked out the window and watched a crew of gardeners as they worked to cut the overgrown hedges of the garden below into something that resembled a straight line. “I have a confession to make,” she said. “I never truly wanted to marry Arthur. I never loved him. I never wanted to marry at all, but I knew how much you wanted me to, so…”
“But every woman wants to marry. I don’t understand.”
No. Her mother wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
“Would it be so horrible if I were to spend my life with you?”
Her mother looked at her with an almost blank expression, as if what she was telling her was so far beyond her experience it was as if she were speaking a foreign tongue. “Of course it would. Do you remember how very miserable Elizabeth was when her mother was pushing her toward the duke?”
“I’d hardly call forcing your daughter to marry someone she doesn’t love ‘pushing.’”
Harriet pursed her lips, obviously not liking what her daughter was saying. “But it all ended up well, did it not? I would never be quite so adamant. However, I’m certainly not foolish enough to ignore the fact that my daughter is in close proximity to a very eligible earl.” Maggie started to protest, but her mother would have none of it. “You must at least try.”
Maggie stood abruptly, her anger returning as quickly as her mother’s tears had doused it. “I thought we were going on with the ruse that I am still engaged,” Maggie said. “If that’s the case, I certainly cannot go out looking for a husband, can I?”
Her mother put a shaky hand to her temple. “I hadn’t thought of that. I only wanted to protect you from humiliation.”
Maggie didn’t bother to point out she didn’t feel humiliation as much as a bit of disappointment and a large dose of relief. “It’s of no consequence anyway. Why can’t you just let me be?”
“Why are you being so cross with me? Honestly, Maggie, you are talking in circles. First you are angry with me that I am lying about Arthur, and then you are angry for pushing you toward the earl. I don’t know what I should say anymore.”
Maggie’s nostrils flared. “I told you I do not want to marry. I cannot marry, Mama.”
“But