The Cotswolds
July 1815
Margaret Maitland sat at her brother’s dining table, as she did at least once every week, wondering how she got to this point and where she was going from here.
Not literally how she got there—she walked from the dower house, as usual—but she’d had a letter from her son, Alex, earlier in the day which sent a contemplative wave washing over her. He’d been so small when they’d first moved into that house, and she’d been so vulnerable. But he was a tall, strapping lad now, looking forward to the end of the Easter Term at Cambridge when he could come home and have some fun. Where had the time gone?
“Margaret?”
Margaret’s brother Philip, seated next to her, poked her discreetly under the table. “Hmm?” she asked, turning her head toward the sound of her name.
Philip’s wife Adeleine frowned across the table and set down her knife with a clank. “I asked if you and Alexander would be attending Natalie’s practice ball.”
“Yes, of course we will,” Margaret answered readily. Adeleine had been hosting a series of informal events over the past several months to give her daughter the opportunity to practice being out in society before her first season in London. Only family and close friends had been invited thus far, but this “practice ball,” as Adeleine had been calling it, would be something of a larger affair.
Adeleine’s face relaxed and she sat back a bit in her chair. “Good. Natalie has been looking forward to dancing with her cousin.”
Margaret chuckled, and Mr. Stephen Eddington, the Maitlands’ neighbor sitting across the table from her, lifted a sandy eyebrow in inquiry. “When she was still in leading strings, Natalie decided that Alex was her favorite person in the world, and she’s never wavered from that opinion.”
“Ah,” Mr. Eddington replied with a smile and a nod. “And Alex must return the sentiment, given how much my nephew Patrick includes her in his letters.”
Adeleine glanced from Mr. Eddington to her husband, a range of emotions playing out on her face. When outrage made an appearance, Margaret caught Adeleine’s eye and shook her head slightly.
“Mr. Eddington’s nephew is Alex’s closest friend,” Margaret reminded her gently. “It’s natural that they would speak to each other of the people they care for.”
“Yes, that is it exactly,” Mr. Eddington added. “Patrick says he feels as if he knows Miss Natalie because Alex speaks of her so often, and so highly.”
Adeleine’s eyes bored into Margaret’s for a long moment. Margaret could practically see her sister-in-law’s thoughts—she was afraid her daughter was going to be ruined before she even had a single season. Like her aunt.
Though, to be fair, Margaret had enjoyed three seasons before she had been ruined.
Adeleine nodded faintly, then smiled brightly at Mr. Eddington. “That is good to hear. And oh! Perhaps you would consider attending Natalie’s practice ball as well? It will be held right here in our music room in a month’s time.”
“I would be honored,” he replied, his hand going to his chest. “And on the subject of invitations, I came to dinner tonight with my own.” His blue eyes slid from Adeleine to Margaret, and a small smile formed on his lips.
“Oh?” Margaret said, taking a sip of sweet red wine, the tide of her contemplation ebbing as a warmer wave washed in.
He grinned, then stifled the expression and cleared his throat. “For all of you. My sister and her children are coming to stay with me for several weeks, and I was hoping to persuade the three of you, along with Miss Natalie and Alex, to join us.”
“Like a house party?” Margaret asked, carefully setting her glass on the table.
“A small one,” Mr. Eddington acknowledged. “It would just be our two families. I’ve written to my friend James Fitzsimmons and your cousin Lady Cecilia to invite them as well, but I believe they are otherwise occupied.”
Margaret grinned, slicing her roasted chicken and savoring the salty, meaty aroma. Cecilia had recently wed Mr. Fitzsimmons in what was supposed to be a marriage of convenience, but it had turned into a genuine love match. They were spending the summer visiting family and enjoying their new life together.
“My sister has five children, and the oldest girl is about Miss Natalie’s age,” Mr. Eddington continued over the clinking of silverware against plates. “Since Alex is already friends with my eldest nephew, we thought perhaps the younger ones would enjoy spending some time together while we of a certain age enjoy each other’s company.”
“That sounds like a capital idea,” Philip said, brandishing his fork with enthusiasm. “I don’t believe we’ll be able to stay, not with all the preparations we must make before we travel to London after the practice ball. But your home is an easy ride, particularly when the weather is fine, and we may be able to join you some days.”
Adeleine was smiling as well, but the warmth had begun to seep out of Margaret’s body. “I– I’m not sure—”
“My sister has asked for you especially, Miss Maitland,” Mr. Eddington replied before she could finish her thought, his voice softer now as he pinned Margaret with his gaze once again. “She wants to meet the mother of her son’s best friend.”
“Oh, of– of course… And I would be pleased to meet her as well…”
Mr. Eddington smiled broadly. If he heard the hesitation in Margaret’s voice, he ignored it. “Wonderful! My sister will be the hostess, of course, and she’ll send round the details when she arrives next week.”
He turned back to his plate, fairly beaming at his food and, alternately, his companions for the duration of the meal. Margaret found the previously delicious fare chewy and tasteless, and only picked at her entree until they left the table for the drawing room. She tried to focus on the conversations going on around her, but had no luck there either.
When finally Mr. Eddington decided to return home, Margaret jumped up from her chair. “I should also take my leave.”
“I’ll see you to the gate if I may,” he replied, catching her eye.
Margaret nodded her assent. This was their custom if they both happened to be dining with Philip and Adeleine, and it was interesting that he still asked after nearly a year of acquaintance rather than just assuming.
What was he going to say when she refused his invitation?
Neither of them spoke as they made their way through the house and out onto the long drive awash in the reds and oranges of the setting sun. But three steps from the house, she couldn’t keep it in any longer.
“Mr. Eddington, are you certain about inviting me to your home, to meet your sister?” she asked, laying a hand on his arm to stop him. A lone songbird serenaded them from a nearby tree as if he had no cares in the world.
“Of course I am,” he replied quickly. His brows crowded down low over his eyes. “Why would you ask me that?”
She pressed her lips together, trying to discern just the right words to convey the absolute inappropriateness of her presence in a respectable home. “You know that I raised my son without the help of his father.”
Mr. Eddington nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“And you also know why.”
He nodded again, glancing at her feet for a moment before meeting her eyes once again. Not long after they first met, Margaret had outlined the bare bones of the story—how she had become pregnant without being married and, rather than hide her condition and give the baby to another family to raise, she had elected to keep him, to raise him herself.
It had destroyed her reputation, of course. And though there were a select few people who would now receive her privately in their homes all these years later, Margaret was still not welcome at even the most obscure society functions.
Margaret’s voice was rough when she spoke again. “I truly would like to meet your sister, but I am afraid that even after twenty years my reputation would tarnish hers.”
“And, in turn, my nieces’ reputations as well,” he added quietly.
Margaret turned and began to walk down the drive, clasping her hands together behind her back to keep from taking his arm as she often did. She wanted to, but it didn’t feel like the right thing to do at this moment. “Exactly so.”
“What about your own niece?” he asked, falling into step beside her. He, too, refrained from touching her, which was both a relief and a disappointment somehow. “Does she not suffer from your connection?”
“It’s easier for people to overlook a rogue family member when the Duke of Alston is her cousin.”
“Mmm. I suppose it’s the same for your son as well.”
She kicked a small rock to the side. “The stigma is a bit less because he’s a man, but yes. Influential relatives outweigh a fallen mother for him some of the time.”
They walked along in silence down the length of the drive, accompanied only by the rhythmic crunching of gravel beneath their feet, and Margaret felt some of the tension in her shoulders easing. She feared that she would have to explain to him the details of her situation to make him understand how bad it had been for the family and friends that had supported her, that still supported her.
But he didn’t protest any further. When they arrived at the gate, he tipped his hat to her as he always did and held the gate open for her to pass through.
“Good evening, Miss Maitland,” he said. His voice was even, and he met her eyes, so perhaps there were no hard feelings.
“Good evening, Mr. Eddington.”
~*~
A week later later, Stephen rode back to Philip Maitland’s home, Eastwood Manor, with two things in his saddle bag: his copy of Observations on the Theory and Practice of Landscape Gardening that he’d promised to lend to Philip, and a note for Miss Margaret Maitland from his sister, who was more than a little disappointed to hear that Miss Maitland had turned down the house party invitation.
Hopefully, both things would be well received.
“Eddington—what a nice surprise,” Philip said, rising as Stephen was shown into the library by the Maitlands’ butler. “Adeleine was wondering earlier about your house party activities, and here you are to ask.”
“Ah yes,” Stephen replied, taking his usual seat in a sturdy walnut chair. “My sister arrived yesterday with her children, and she is writing up a list. Everything is to be rather informal, but she’ll send the details round when she’s sorted it all out.”
“Excellent,” Philip answered, taking his own seat in a chair that had begun its life as the twin of Stephen’s but had seen much more wear. “You must thank her for thinking of us, and of Natalie in particular.”
“I will do that.” Stephen fished around in his inner coat pocket and came up with the note he’d been tasked with delivering. “She also sent along a note for your own sister. Will you pass it along to her the next time she’s here?”
Philip waved the note away. “You can give it to her yourself before you depart. She’s with Adeleine now walking in the gardens, but they should be returning soon for luncheon.”
“Oh.” Well, that was unexpected. Though Stephen supposed it shouldn’t be—Miss Maitland was frequently here when he was. “Well, that’s perfect timing, then. Perhaps I can take an answer home with me today.”
Their conversation drifted to other topics, including the book Stephen had brought, and an hour or so later Mrs. Maitland bustled in with a bright smile for her husband.
“I hope you’re hungry,” she said, touching his shoulder lightly. “Our cook has been experimenting with some new recipes, and there’s a mountain of food. You’ll stay and taste them all, won’t you Mr. Eddington?”
Stephen pulled his gold pocket watch from the custom pocket in his waistcoat. “I’m afraid I cannot, Mrs. Maitland,” he answered with real regret. The Maitlands’ cook always created the most delicious dishes. “I promised my sister that I would help her with a few things this afternoon. I really only came by to give this note to your sister-in-law.”
He produced the note again with Miss Maitland’s name written in flowing script on the outside, and Mrs. Maitland nodded.
“Margaret stayed a few more minutes in the garden nearest the house. You can deliver your sister’s note to her there if you’d like.”
Wonderful—perhaps she could spare a moment to speak with him, too, away from any listening ears. “I believe I will do that. Thank you,” Stephen said with a little bow to Mrs. Maitland. “Thank you both.”
Eastwood Manor wasn’t overly large by aristocratic standards, and he found Miss Maitland with little trouble. She was seemingly lost in thought, admiring a stone statue that appeared to be of a roe deer as the wind tousled the curly brown hair that had managed to escape her bonnet, and Stephen cleared his throat.
“Oh, Mr. Eddington,” she said, turning quickly toward him. “What a lovely surprise.”
He tried desperately not to react, but he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. He was a lovely surprise, was he?
“I am here mostly on behalf of my sister,” he said, handing her the note Caroline had written. “She would like you to reconsider your attendance at her house party.”
Miss Maitland accepted the note and took several moments to read it over. Then her hazel eyes met his. “Do you know what this says?”
Stephen shook his head, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Caroline didn’t tell me exactly, only that she was disappointed you declined her invitation.”
“She talks about how I can’t ruin her reputation, how she’s the daughter of a master builder married to the fifth son of an inconsequential gentleman, and no one in society even knows she exists,” Miss Maitland explained.
“That is all true,” Stephen replied, clasping his hands behind his back just to get them out of his way. “One or two society folks may know she exists, as they are aware I have a sister. But she has no dealings with them.”
“I see.” Miss Maitland’s gaze traveled back to the note as a stiff breeze blew through, and she grasped firmly with both hands. “She also says that she would very much appreciate my company and that of my son.”
Stephen nodded, even though she wasn’t looking at him. “Caroline has been looking forward to having another woman of a similar age to talk to. And Patrick has been making lists of all the things he wants to show your son while they are here together.”
Miss Maitland met his eyes again with a small smile. “Alex may go, of course, and stay until you tire of him.”
“And you?” Her mouth turned down and Stephen quickly added, “If you don’t feel comfortable staying at my home, you’re welcome to come for as many or as few activities as you’d like, or to not come at all. The decision is yours to make.”
She pressed her lips together as her eyes searched his face. Even the birds seemed to hold their collective breath, quietly waiting for her answer.
After a long moment, she exhaled slowly. “Might I have a day to think it over?”
“Yes, of course. But don’t place more importance on this party than it warrants.” He resisted the urge to reach out and touch her, though for some reason it took considerable willpower. “The point of this house party is for our two families to enjoy each others’ company for a while, to enjoy having Patrick and Alex with us, and that’s all. If that sounds like a pleasant way to spend your time, come. If it doesn’t, we will see each other another time.”
He was mentally berating himself for adding the last part—perhaps she didn’t care if she saw him again—when she smiled faintly. It could have been his imagination, for it was gone as quickly as it appeared, but Stephen didn’t think so.
“All right,” she said, her voice maddeningly neutral. “I will be here tomorrow helping Adeleine and Natalie prepare for Natalie’s next outing. If our paths don’t cross, I’ll send a note with a footman to your home.”
They said their goodbyes and Stephen made his way back to the Maitland stables for his horse. Would she attend? Would she stay in his home?
Stephen couldn’t come up with a believable reason to visit Philip Maitland again the next day, so he remained at home, catching up with his sister, playing games with his nieces and nephews, trying not to listen for a knock at the door.
When a footman in Maitland livery did finally arrive, Stephen’s stomach did a little flip as he accepted the note with his name printed neatly upon it.
Dear Mr. Eddington,
On behalf of my son and myself, I thank you and your sister for the invitation to your house party. We are both pleased to attend for the duration. If your sister needs any help making arrangements, I am happy to assist her.
Margaret Maitland
“Caroline! She’s coming!”
Caroline was at the front door with him a few moments later, clapping her hands together. “Wonderful! I’m so glad she changed her mind.”
“I am too,” he answered, scanning the note again.
He wasn’t quite sure when it had happened, but sometime in the recent past Stephen had resolved to get to know Miss Maitland better. He was her brother’s friend, after all, and they met often at Eastwood Manor.
Perhaps this house party was their chance to develop a relationship independent of their mutual connection.
Cora Lee, Regency Romance Author 