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Authors: Jane Goodger
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clutching the rail in barely contained eagerness. As they walked up the shallow marble steps, Amelia ran to greet them.
“Oh, Edward, the most wonderful news. Mrs. Pierce has agreed to chaperone me this season.”
Chapter 8
Maggie was not a woman who got angry, and if she did, she always managed to hide it well. But she could not hide the flood of irritation she felt upon hearing Amelia’s happy news. What was her mother thinking? How could she accept such an invitation when they had no money, no clothes, and no way of obtaining them?
“Mother,” Maggie said in such a sharp tone, Amelia stopped her happy chatter and looked from daughter to mother with dismay. Maggie forced herself to remain calm, when inside she was burning. “Perhaps we should discuss this.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. It’s perfect. We can order your trousseau. And I’ve always wanted to experience a season in London. Why, since you were a little girl it’s always been something I’ve dreamed about. We could visit Mr. Worth, perhaps. Or maybe Her Grace has some recommendations.”
It was almost as if Maggie could feel her blood begin to boil. “Mother, may I have a word with you?”
“I’m sorry,” Amelia said softly. “Did I do something wrong?”
Maggie felt immediately contrite, and gave the girl a reassuring smile. “Not at all. It’s only that my mother and I had other plans after Christmas and staying for a season was not something we’d thought of doing. I would like to discuss this with my mother before we make any final decisions.” What on earth was her mother thinking? It was almost as if she truly believed they had to purchase a trousseau, as if they had the money to do so, as if her father was not in prison, leaving them destitute.
“All right. Of course,” Amelia said, but Maggie could see the dreams of a wonderful season dying in her pretty blues eyes. She nearly gave in, then and there, but her reasons against a London season were so many she could not.
“Oh, dear, I’m afraid my daughter is quite angry with me,” Harriet said with a laugh. “I’d best go have it out with her.”
Maggie could not even pretend a smile. As she was leaving, she heard Lord Hollings gently chastise his sister. “You should not have said a word until you spoke with me.”
“I know,” Amelia said, in a voice that told Maggie she was clearly on the verge of tears, which made her feel even more like a shrew. A correct shrew, but one nonetheless.
When they’d reached their private apartment, Maggie waited for her mother to sit like a chastised child.
“I don’t know what you are so upset about, my dear. This is the opportunity of a lifetime for us.”
Maggie ignored her. “Do you have any idea what it costs to finance a season, Mother? How am I going to buy the necessary gowns? I will not be able to. So you will chaperone a girl while I sit at home—a home we shall not be able to afford, I might add. Did you not think of that?”
“Oh.”
“Mother, how could you have agreed to something without giving it any thought?”
Her mother worried her hands in her lap. “You have some lovely gowns,” she said, then stopped as if finally recalling how desperate their situation was, and she slowly deflated, shrinking before her daughter’s eyes. “Had some lovely gowns.” Then, to Maggie’s horror, her mother started to cry copious tears. Her mother, who couldn’t bear to see anyone sad, buried her face in her hands and sobbed in an almost childlike way.
Maggie knelt beside her, grasping her hands. “Mama, please don’t cry. I’m sorry. It’s just we have to be more practical now. We hardly have the funds to return home and go on to Savannah. You know I spent hours trying to budget this trip.” She’d sold her best gowns, her piano, all her jewels to fund this trip. They literally had nothing left to their names.
“I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking, I suppose. I just wanted to be
“Oh, Edward, the most wonderful news. Mrs. Pierce has agreed to chaperone me this season.”
Chapter 8
Maggie was not a woman who got angry, and if she did, she always managed to hide it well. But she could not hide the flood of irritation she felt upon hearing Amelia’s happy news. What was her mother thinking? How could she accept such an invitation when they had no money, no clothes, and no way of obtaining them?
“Mother,” Maggie said in such a sharp tone, Amelia stopped her happy chatter and looked from daughter to mother with dismay. Maggie forced herself to remain calm, when inside she was burning. “Perhaps we should discuss this.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. It’s perfect. We can order your trousseau. And I’ve always wanted to experience a season in London. Why, since you were a little girl it’s always been something I’ve dreamed about. We could visit Mr. Worth, perhaps. Or maybe Her Grace has some recommendations.”
It was almost as if Maggie could feel her blood begin to boil. “Mother, may I have a word with you?”
“I’m sorry,” Amelia said softly. “Did I do something wrong?”
Maggie felt immediately contrite, and gave the girl a reassuring smile. “Not at all. It’s only that my mother and I had other plans after Christmas and staying for a season was not something we’d thought of doing. I would like to discuss this with my mother before we make any final decisions.” What on earth was her mother thinking? It was almost as if she truly believed they had to purchase a trousseau, as if they had the money to do so, as if her father was not in prison, leaving them destitute.
“All right. Of course,” Amelia said, but Maggie could see the dreams of a wonderful season dying in her pretty blues eyes. She nearly gave in, then and there, but her reasons against a London season were so many she could not.
“Oh, dear, I’m afraid my daughter is quite angry with me,” Harriet said with a laugh. “I’d best go have it out with her.”
Maggie could not even pretend a smile. As she was leaving, she heard Lord Hollings gently chastise his sister. “You should not have said a word until you spoke with me.”
“I know,” Amelia said, in a voice that told Maggie she was clearly on the verge of tears, which made her feel even more like a shrew. A correct shrew, but one nonetheless.
When they’d reached their private apartment, Maggie waited for her mother to sit like a chastised child.
“I don’t know what you are so upset about, my dear. This is the opportunity of a lifetime for us.”
Maggie ignored her. “Do you have any idea what it costs to finance a season, Mother? How am I going to buy the necessary gowns? I will not be able to. So you will chaperone a girl while I sit at home—a home we shall not be able to afford, I might add. Did you not think of that?”
“Oh.”
“Mother, how could you have agreed to something without giving it any thought?”
Her mother worried her hands in her lap. “You have some lovely gowns,” she said, then stopped as if finally recalling how desperate their situation was, and she slowly deflated, shrinking before her daughter’s eyes. “Had some lovely gowns.” Then, to Maggie’s horror, her mother started to cry copious tears. Her mother, who couldn’t bear to see anyone sad, buried her face in her hands and sobbed in an almost childlike way.
Maggie knelt beside her, grasping her hands. “Mama, please don’t cry. I’m sorry. It’s just we have to be more practical now. We hardly have the funds to return home and go on to Savannah. You know I spent hours trying to budget this trip.” She’d sold her best gowns, her piano, all her jewels to fund this trip. They literally had nothing left to their names.
“I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking, I suppose. I just wanted to be
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