Page 19 of Debtor’s Daughter

“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.”