Page 6 of Debtor’s Daughter (Wicked Sons #11)
P.S Whilst I have not the slightest doubt you will treat the ladies with the utmost kindness, I must make you aware that the eldest Miss Merrivale, their Aunt Constance, appears to be more than a little eccentric.
――Excerpt of a letter from the Hon’ble Larkin Weston to The Most Hon’ble Lady Matilda Barrington, The Marchioness of Montagu.
27 th September 1850, Montagu House, St James’s, London.
“Do you have a cuckoo clock?”
Maggie had to give Lady Montagu credit, for she did not so much as bat an eyelid.
“I’m afraid we do not,” she said, with apparent regret. “My eldest daughter, Phoebe, brought one home after a holiday in Switzerland and I thought it the most charming thing, but Lord Montagu disagreed. He said it gave him a headache and refused to get me one. He was quite adamant, which is rare, for he is a most generous husband as a rule. Do you possess such a thing?”
“I do,” Aunt Connie said with a contented smile. “Though mine is rather unusual. It’s—”
“It’s such a great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Montagu, and so good of you to spare the time to meet with us,” Maggie said in a rush, praying the lady would not think her horribly ill-mannered for so rudely interrupting her aunt.
“Not at all,” Lady Montagu replied, turning her attention to Maggie. “Indeed, if you will forgive me for my frankness, Larkin has given me a brief outline of your situation and I have been impatient to meet you all. My dears, I am so terribly sorry for all you have suffered. I cannot imagine what a trial you have endured these past months, and to come to London, to face society all alone, well, you are very brave indeed, and such courage ought to be rewarded.”
“I’m not certain it was courage so much as foolishness,” Maggie admitted, hardly daring to believe the lady had already decided to help them. “But I did not know what else to do. I could not have Caro marry such a wicked man as Mr Jenkins appeared to be.”
“I should think not,” Lady Montagu said, anger flashing in her blue eyes. “Men such as those believe women are property, things to be possessed. But we will not speak of him for the moment. Of course, you are in mourning for your father at present, which would normally present certain difficulties, but Larkin tells me you are prepared to defy convention to a degree?”
Maggie nodded. “I know it is rather outrageous to launch Caro before the year is up, but we do not have the funds for a second season. Indeed, if she does not marry, we will need to quit London and find somewhere cheaper to live. There is no point in denying the fact or allowing people to believe otherwise. Caro has no dowry, but she has great beauty and is very accomplished, as well as being the dearest creature that ever lived. But I cannot pretend that I am not afraid of the less than respectable offers such a situation might attract.”
“Miss Caroline, how old are you, my dear?” Lady Montagu asked her gently.
“I am eighteen, my lady.”
“Oh, so young,” the lady said with a sigh, sorrow in her eyes.
Maggie felt her throat tighten. “I would not, for the world, force my sister to wed. I wish I could give her the time to enjoy life, to meet a young man whom she could esteem and fall in love with, but I fear what will become of her if she does not marry.” To her dismay, Maggie’s voice trembled as she spoke, her eyes prickling with tears.
“My dear Mrs Finchley, please do not feel the need to justify your decision. The world is not kind to women, especially not to unmarried women with no fortune, and who have no male relations to protect them. I understand your choices and your decisions far better than you may believe. However, if it is not an indelicate question, do you not consider this an opportunity for yourself as well? Do you not wish to remarry?”
“Oh! Oh, no,” Maggie said at once. “No, this is all for Caro. Once she is safely settled, I shall be at ease. I have my little boy, Gideon, to think of, and Auntie and I plan to buy a little cottage in the country somewhere. We will be quite content, I assure you.”
“But, my dear, you cannot be over three and twenty. That is a little young to turn your back on the world, is it not, and perhaps Miss Merrivale too might find herself a beau?” Lady Montagu suggested, smiling warmly at the eldest Miss Merrivale.
Aunt Connie gave an almost girlish giggle but shook her head. “You are a dear to say so, my lady, but sadly I lost my beloved years ago and I cannot ever love again, for he was my soul mate. That is why he hau—”
Maggie cut in before her aunt put them all to the blush. “I am five and twenty, my lady, and as you see, my aunt is determined to live the rest of her days as a spinster. I promise you, the state does not terrify me.” Much , she added silently as her stomach twisted into a knot.
But her future did not matter. She did not wish for Lady Montagu to feel burdened by the idea of finding them all husbands when the only one who needed one was Caro. There was no way she could impose upon the woman’s generosity further than that, but if it got Caro into society and gave her opportunities Maggie could not provide her with, then she would certainly take advantage of her kindness on her sister’s behalf.
“Well, we shall see,” Lady Montagu said with a smile. “To put your mind at ease, I should be delighted to sponsor Miss Caroline for her come out.”
“Oh! Oh, my lady, thank you!” Caroline said in astonishment, her hands flying to her cheeks and Maggie was so overcome for a full minute she could not form a coherent word.
She simply gazed at Lady Montagu, her hand covering her mouth as she fought to keep from breaking down and sobbing with relief and gratitude.
Thankfully, the butler returned at this moment and for the next few minutes, Lady Montagu was occupied with preparing tea to everyone’s preferred taste.
Once Maggie had regained some semblance of calm, she spoke, finding the words trembled and quavered as she fought to keep her emotions in check. “I have no words to thank you, my lady, for your kindness and generosity. You may be certain that we shall never forget what we owe you and will ensure to do all we can to act in a manner that will not make you regret your decision.”
Lady Montagu laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, pish. As to that, I cannot abide a milk and water miss. I admire a little spirit, I assure you, but perhaps if you could steer clear of any great scandal, it would be best for all concerned.”
“Oh, my lady, we would never—” Maggie began, only to be hushed by Aunt Connie.
“Hush, Maggie, you little goosecap. Her ladyship is funning, that’s all,” Connie said serenely, quite as if she took tea in such elevated circles every day of the week.
“I am,” the lady said, somewhat apologetically, smiling over the rim of her pretty porcelain teacup. “And I did not mean to fluster you, so do forgive me. In sponsoring Miss Caroline, I hope you understand I mean to include you and Miss Merrivale in all the events that we will attend. I am certain Miss Caroline will feel more at ease knowing you are close at hand. In the meantime, there is not a great deal I can do for you, seeing as you are in mourning and society at this time of year is rather limited. However, we must consider Miss Caroline’s gown for her presentation at court, which I, as her sponsor, will provide, naturally. Also, I would be pleased to further our acquaintance in the meantime. As silly as it is, simply being counted among my intimate circle will do you much good in the eyes of the ton . I believe you have a little boy. Gideon, is it?”
The news that she and her aunt were also under the lady's patronage, and that Caro's court dress was no longer a cost she must bear, left Maggie speechless. It was an enormous expense, and she had steeled herself to sell her mother’s pearls, the only jewellery she had of her own mama’s save for a few trumpery trinkets with little value. But the pearls were very fine, and it would have hurt her to part with them, but for Caro’s sake, she would have done so. To discover now that she need not… she had to be dreaming. This was all too good to be true.
“Maggie, answer the lady,” Connie said, shaking her head before turning back to Lady Montagu. “Poor dear Maggie has been under a tremendous strain of late, so I beg you will forgive her if she appears a little… vague. She has taken us all on, a significant burden, as a perceptive woman like yourself will understand. Magdelina, my dear. Tell the marchioness about Gideon.”
Maggie blinked, startled to realise she was the one making them all look foolish, and not Aunt Connie. “Gideon,” she managed, and then cleared her throat. “He—He’s four years old, my lady, and the joy of my life.”
“Ah,” Lady Montagu sighed and turned her head, gesturing to a portrait on the wall. “I miss those days, I admit. It all seems so long ago and yet like yesterday all at once. Time passes so quickly, but when one is young and busy, one does not notice. But then suddenly you look around and your children are grown, and the house is quiet,” she said, her voice wistful. “Until they all come home for a visit, at least,” she added with a merry twinkle in her eyes.
Maggie regarded the portrait, which showed a solemn boy on the cusp of manhood, tall and slender and utterly beautiful. His ice blonde hair and cool blue-grey eyes looked out of the portrait, surveying the viewer with a detached air. His younger brother appeared full of mischief, his hair a darker gold, his eyes a deeper blue. Between them, the boys each held the hand of a china doll of a girl. Maggie wondered if even Caro could have matched the beautiful child with her tumbling fair curls and the magnetic quality of her eyes, which appeared more silver than grey.
“They are beautiful children, my lady.”
“They are, though they are grown now. Ashburton has yet to settle down, I am sad to say. We have been blessed with a granddaughter though, his natural child, you understand. She has brought such laughter and merriment back to the family. There is nothing like children in the house, is there, Mrs Finchley?” She gave Maggie a direct look, a contemplative gleam in her eyes. “Have I shocked you?”
Maggie let out a breath of laughter. “Yes, a little, but only with delight. I know not all noble families set aside those born outside of the rules of convention, but it warms my heart to discover it is true.”
Lady Montagu nodded her approval of Maggie’s words. “Then perhaps you would care to bring Gideon to meet our darling Tilly. She is rather older than he is, but she adores small children and is very patient with them. Indeed, it is the only time the wicked girl is patient,” she added with a laugh. “But now we must part, I fear, for I hear voices. I believe today’s callers are upon us.”
“Yes, indeed, for we have already imposed upon your time far longer than our allotted span, I fear,” Maggie said apologetically.
“Not at all. Come back next Thursday afternoon if it pleases you and bring your son. We shall be delighted to see you all again. Larkin, my dear, thank you for bringing me such a treat. I’ve had a delightful visit and shall look forward to the coming season with interest and anticipation.”
Mr Weston, who had sat quietly, discreetly allowing the women to talk, took the lady’s hand and kissed her fingers. “Thank you, Matilda. I knew I could depend upon you.”
The lady nodded and smiled and bid them all a good day and Mr Weston escorted them out as a chattering gaggle of women entered, eyeing them speculatively as they passed.
“Good day, Mr Weston,” they chorused, the younger ones casting him flirtatious looks from under their lashes.
Maggie bristled a little at their coquetry before scolding herself. Who was she to feel annoyed at their behaviour? But she had no energy to consider any other feelings than those of elation. They had done it. Or at least, Mr Weston had done it. Without him, they would never have been given such a wonderful opportunity. Maggie was almost bubbling over with excitement as the butler showed them out to the carriage.
She could barely contain herself and the moment the door closed upon them, she turned to Mr Weston and grasped his hands.
“Oh, sir, I do not know how to thank you for this day. I never… never expected, never dreamed… but now Caro is to have the chance she deserves. I—I—” Maggie snapped her mouth shut and pulled her hands away as she realised what she’d been about to say .
I could kiss you!
It was no more than the truth, but not at all the thing a lady said in any circumstances, and especially not when the lady harboured hopes that the gentleman would marry her sister.
Mr Weston shook his head. “But I did nothing at all,” he protested, laughing. “I only presented your delightful selves to the lady who could see as easily as I could that there were never three more deserving or enchanting ladies in need of a little help. I assure you, Lady Matilda will take a great deal of enjoyment in outfitting Miss Caroline for her court appearance and in guiding you all through the melee of the ton .”
“Still, Maggie is quite right, Mr Weston. It was a wonderfully generous thing for you to do and… and I am quite overcome by the prospect,” Caro said.
Though she had said little during the visit, she had acted just as a young girl ought. Now, however, she simply glowed, her cheeks pink with excitement, her lovely green eyes alight with happiness.
Maggie glanced at Mr Weston to see him gazing at the enchanting vision before him and experienced a little shaft of pain. Lucky Caro, to have gained the admiration of such a man, and so easily. Belatedly, she realised she was guilty of feeling rather jealous which was an appalling and uncomfortable truth. Suddenly wretched, she spent the rest of the journey home giving herself a stern talking to.
Once home, Maggie changed into her oldest and most comfortable gown and went down to the kitchens in search of Gideon. She found him kneeling on a chair, a large tea towel fastened around him, playing with pastry scraps that Mrs Moody had given him.
“Mama!” he exclaimed, standing up on the chair and holding out his floury hands to her.
Congratulating herself on having the forethought to have changed before she came in search of him, Maggie hurried forward and hugged him tightly. “Oh, Giddy. I have missed you,” she said, planting him a kiss on the cheek.
“Missed you, Mama, but look. I made a graff!”
Maggie looked down at the creature that had four short, stubby legs and an oddly distorted neck. “That is certainly the finest giraffe I have ever seen, Giddy, well done, love.”
“Fanks,” Giddy said, before settling himself back on the chair and squishing the giraffe in his chubby little fist. “Make a helephant now,” he announced with a grin.
“Well, missus? Did it all go a’right?” Mrs Moody asked as she set the kettle on the range to heat.
“It went perfectly,” Maggie said, too elated to bother that she was discussing personal family business with the staff.
At home, the staff had been more family than employees, having been at the estate since before Maggie was born. It was a hard habit to break, and Mrs Moody did not strike Maggie as the sort to tattle about her family’s doings.
“Then Miss Caro will get her come out?” Mrs Moody asked, looking as pleased at the news as if she had been her own flesh and blood. But then everyone loved Caro.
“She will,” Maggie said, settling herself down at the kitchen table. “I still cannot believe it.”
“Caro go to the ball, like a princess?” Gideon asked seriously.
“Yes, just like a princess, for Lady Montagu will provide her court dress for her.” With that, Maggie’s voice trembled and the tears that had been threatening all day finally overcame her. She put her head in her hands, sobbing at the table like the greatest ninny in Christendom.
“Mama!” Gideon said in alarm, scrambling off the chair and running around the table to clutch at her arm. “Mama!”
“Oh, darling, it’s all right,” Maggie said, laughing and crying at once now. “Mama is just very happy and so… so very relieved.”
Without saying a word, Mrs Moody went off and returned with a bottle under her arm, a glass in one hand, and a clean handkerchief in the other. She handed Maggie the handkerchief. “Have a tot of my peapod wine. It’s good for what ails you, pet.” So saying, she uncorked the bottle and poured Maggie a generous glass.
“Get that down you and it will set all to rights,” she promised with a wink.
Maggie wiped her face and blew her nose. She eyed the pale liquid dubiously but hadn’t the heart to refuse. “Thank you,” she said, and took a tentative sip. The wine hit the back of her throat and turned into liquid fire. “Heavens above!” she exclaimed, coughing and spluttering.
Mrs Moody grinned at her. “Not bad, eh?”
“Mama cough?” Gideon said, pounding her on the back as Maggie’s eyes watered.
“Fine…” she croaked, gazing at the glass with dawning respect. “I’m fine, Giddy.”
“Go on, try again. I dare you,” Mrs Moody said with a chuckle.
Maggie did, more cautiously this time. Though the fiery liquid still took her breath, a warm glow began in the pit of her stomach and the muscles in her shoulders eased a fraction.
“Oh,” she said, letting out a breath which she was certain must be flammable.
“Good, isn’t it?” Mrs Moody said with a knowing smile.
Good wasn’t exactly the word Maggie would have chosen, but as she sipped, she found she grew used to the rather astringent flavour and the way it had of stealing her breath. It was worth it for the lovely glow that surrounded her and made her feel more relaxed than she had since before Papa had died.
“Good?” Gideon said, sniffing the glass and wrinkling his nose . “Pooh! Bad. Very, very bad,” he exclaimed, and hurried back around the chair to continue mangling his pastry scraps.
Maggie laughed, deciding this reaction was for the best and finished her glass, believing she might sleep soundly for the first time in months, and it was all thanks to Mr Weston. She closed her eyes, sighing, and allowing herself the wickedness of remembering how handsome he had looked out in the wilderness of their back garden. Once more, Maggie could not help but consider those powerful arms and wondered idly what it might feel like to be held in such a strong embrace.
Guilt hit her square in the chest. Not only was she daydreaming about a man she hoped would marry her sister, but she was betraying the memory of poor, dear William. Yet those scant weeks they had shared seemed like a dream to her now, faded and grown misty with time. The harder she tried to recall William’s face, the more difficult it became, for she had no portrait of him, no drawing or likeness to gaze at and help bring him to mind. He had been a gentle soul, quiet and bookish and ill-suited for army life. He’d confided to her once that he found it hard to believe he had dared to court her so assiduously, but that he had fallen in love with her at first sight and it had given him courage. Maggie had never been a romantic soul, having been occupied with the running of the house since a young age, but William had spoken to some long-neglected part of herself that still believed in dreams. During those strangely idyllic days she had forgotten her self-imposed responsibilities and become someone else, a carefree girl with foolish hopes. For a time, she had been content to sit and listen to him read love poetry to her—both his own and others he admired—or to gaze up at the stars for hours in silence.
In recent months, she had looked back upon their all too brief marriage and wondered how they would have fared if he had come home to her. They had been so young. Maggie had just turned twenty when they married, and William was only two and twenty. Having lost his own parents when he was young, he loved Maggie’s irreverent father and aunt and thought her sister a delight. She thought perhaps he had married her because of them, as much as for her own sake, but perhaps they would have grown up together and found their way to a happy future. She liked to think so. But such a short life it had been for her poor, sweet boy, gone before he’d even had time to understand he would be a father.
Maggie’s eyes grew misty as she looked across the table at Gideon. He looked more like her than William, she realised, and felt her throat tighten with regret that even this echo of his father was lost to her. She swallowed hard and lifted the glass to her lips, a little shocked to discover it was empty.
Mrs Moody came over and topped it up again, giving Maggie a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Drink up, missus. It’s all right to feel things now and again, it does a soul good to let go and to feel sorry for oneself. So long as it’s only now and then, the world won’t end, I promise.”
“You’re very kind, Mrs Moody,” Maggie said, thinking the woman was wiser than she had given her credit for, and sipping at her drink as she watched her son, so strong and healthy and happy, and counted her blessings.