A Christmas Scandal. Jane Goodger

to her. The two were silent, enjoying the rare warmth of a late October morning and the knowledge that for the next few weeks at least, there would be many mornings like this one. Across an expanse of green grass were the brilliant reds, golds, and burnished browns of fall foliage. It looked so much like home that for one fierce moment Maggie wished she were back in New York. But such a thought immediately brought with it the reason why they were not in New York.

      Maggie decided at that moment to ruin their peace, because the lie she held in her heart was beginning to invade her feeling of pure contentment.

      “I have some news to tell you,” she said, and something in her tone made Elizabeth straighten suddenly even though she’d tried to keep her voice even.

      Maggie laughed. “It’s not as bad as all that.” Then she laughed again. “Actually, it is.” She shook her head, still in a bit of disbelief that her life could have changed so drastically in the few months that the two women hadn’t seen each other.

      “I might as well just tell you right out. My father is in prison for embezzlement and we are destitute. There. I’ve told you. I feel so much better.” She took a sip from her tea as if all was now well in the world.

      Elizabeth looked at her for a stunned moment, then burst out laughing, only to sober moments later when she realized Maggie was not joking. “You’re serious.”

      “Utterly,” Maggie said dryly. For some reason, her troubles seemed far less serious here on this veranda with a cup of tea in her hands. “Poor Papa was sentenced for five years. Our house is sold, nearly all our belongings gone. The jewels, the horses, the books. Everything. Sam lost his job at Munroe and Phillips. He’s in Richmond working at a much smaller firm with an old school chum.”

      Maggie thought she was fine, truly thought the pain of what her family had endured these last months was dulled by time, until she looked at Elizabeth and saw her friend was crying. Still, she tried valiantly to smile as she looked into her cooling tea. “Please don’t, Elizabeth. I’ve cried enough for both of us.” She swallowed heavily, willing the burning in her throat to dissipate.

      “I’m sorry. It’s just that…your father. Your mother! Everyone. It must have been awful,” she said, losing the tenuous control she had.

      “It was awful,” she said, giving her friend a shaky smile. “But we’re here now. And all that seems very far away.”

      “You don’t have to be brave, Maggie. You don’t have to pretend all is well. Not with me.”

      Maggie’s eyes flooded with tears. “If I start crying, I fear I might never stop. Truly.” She squeezed her eyes shut, then quickly dashed away the tears that fell. “So maybe another day I can tell you more. The awful details. But for now, I just wanted you to know. Only you,” she stressed.

      “Rand is a very understanding man, Maggie. You should not worry that he would think badly of you or your family.”

      Maggie held a little private debate inside her head. She knew if Elizabeth told Rand, Rand would tell Lord Hollings and then she would never be able to behave normally before either one. It was humiliating enough that everyone in New York knew their shame; she did not want every one in England to as well.

      “I’d rather you not tell anyone. Is it terrible to ask that of you?”

      Elizabeth thought a moment. “I will not lie outright.”

      Maggie, feeling awful to ask such a thing, waved a hand as if erasing her request. “No. I should not have asked that of you. But do you think you could ask His Grace to keep it between the two of you? I would never ask such a thing, but living in New York these past months has been difficult.”

      Elizabeth, who had full knowledge of how powerful New York’s social elite could be, knew immediately what her friend meant. “It must have been horrid,” she said.

      “It wasn’t fun. Though I must say that after you left, our social calendars were not quite as full as before. So when word about Papa’s indictment was in the newspapers, it was hardly a sudden drop in invitations.” Maggie was putting it more than kindly. Night after night she’d sat with her mother before the fire reading or playing her beloved piano. They were long dreary nights, made more dreary with the knowledge that everyone else they knew in the city was out enjoying themselves. They’d gone to the New York Philharmonic once and never again. It was excruciatingly obvious that people who had been their friends were going out of their way to pretend they did not see them. Her mother left at intermission in tears, her father walking stoically next to her.

      “I’m so glad to be away from all that pettiness,” Elizabeth said fiercely. “No doubt my mother led the brigade.”

      Maggie laughed. “I never heard a word. But I do believe my star wasn’t shining quite as brightly without you by my side.” In fact, they had been written off nearly every social list, but Elizabeth needn’t know that.

      “I’m glad you’re here to escape from all that.”

      Maggie looked down to her tea and frowned, and started to move to add to her cooling drink some hot tea sitting on the table before them when a footman was immediately on hand to replenish it for her. When he’d gone back to his station near the door, Maggie said, “Mama and I have become quite independent. We can tie our own stays, dress each other’s hair and our own, serve ourselves food. It’s quite liberating,” she said with a hint of self-deprecation.

      “Is everything gone? Not your piano.”

      “That piano paid for our passage here and back,” Maggie said. “And thank God for it.”

      “But your piano,” Elizabeth moaned. “You must have been devastated.”

      “It just became one more thing to deal with,” Maggie said matter-of-factly. “Our lives have changed so much. We’re officially homeless.” She said it with so much pride, Elizabeth laughed.

      “Until you marry Arthur,” Elizabeth said.

      Maggie felt her cheeks flush and she prayed her friend thought it was bashfulness and not shame. “Yes.”

      “When are you getting married?”

      “We haven’t set a date yet,” Maggie said.

      “Until you do, this is your home for as long as you want to stay,” Elizabeth said.

      “Mother had her heart set on living with her sister in Savannah.” Goodness, the lies were building. “I cannot impose on you too long. I feel rather guilty dragging her halfway around the world simply so I could have a chaperone that I don’t even need.”

      “Savannah? Georgia?”

      “Mama grew up there and says it’s quite lovely.”

      “I’m sure it is,” Elizabeth said doubtfully.

      “Oh, you needn’t act as if we are being banished to somewhere terrible.”

      “I do wish you could stay here until your wedding. I’ve missed you terribly,” Elizabeth said, and Maggie knew she meant every word. For a moment she allowed herself to think that it was possible, that she could stay in this palace forever. She’d have to tell the truth about Arthur eventually and then what would she do all day? Entertain Elizabeth? Watch their children when they came? Become like an impoverished relation who had to depend upon them for everything? Maggie knew she could never allow that, even though it was wonderfully safe and intoxicatingly tempting…if only for a little while.

      “I’ve missed you, too,” Maggie said. “It’s been so dreary in New York without you. Not that I got to see you much when you were there last.”

      The two women laughed, remembering how strict Elizabeth’s mother was, and how very afraid she was that Elizabeth would run off with another man and jilt the duke.

      “I’ve much more freedom now,” Elizabeth said. “But not for long, I fear.” She looked down at her stomach and Maggie felt an unfamiliar twinge