The door closed behind her with a soft click. Margaret unbuttoned her paletot and sat down on the window seat, opening the casement to inhale the sweet, lush scent of the gardens. Powerscourt was beautiful. Thanks to Mama, she had a dog and horses for company, and she was free to walk these lovely grounds, but the one thing she wasn’t free to do was leave. Her prison was a luxurious one, but it was still a prison. And Julia? Margaret’s instincts told her that there was more to her hostess than a very natural reserve, but at this moment, she had no energy to conjure up some empathy. She had never felt so alone. What she wanted more than anything in the world right now was to lie on that comfortable-looking bed and pull the covers over her head, shutting out the world.

A tap on the door forced her to abandon that tempting thought.

“Your hot water, my lady.”

“Breda!”

“I’m to be your maid, my lady, if you are happy to have me?”

“More than happy,” Margaret replied. A friendly face. And chocolate cake for tea. That was a great deal more than she had any right to expect under the circumstances.

Charlotte, Duchess of Buccleuch, to Lady Margaret

Charlotte, Duchess of Buccleuch, to Lady Margaret

Drumlanrig Castle, 12 August 1867

My dear Margaret,

It is the Glorious Twelfth, but as you can see from my address I have eschewed grouse-shooting this year. Your father has once again accepted the Duke of Sutherland’s invitation to Dunrobin Castle, but I find myself rather disinclined to socialise at present.

I have your sister Mary with me for company. We have been spending time walking in the grounds getting to know each other a little better. A strange phrase to use regarding one’s daughter, perhaps, but long overdue as far as I am concerned. Mary lacks your impetuousness, but neither has she Victoria’s reserve. After long consideration I decided to explain your situation to her—though not, I hasten to add, anything concerning Lambeth! In doing so I have contradicted your father’s instructions, but I find myself quite unable to ignore Mary’s questions. She begged my leave to write to you herself. I reluctantly refused. While your father did not expressly forbid communication, I have no doubt that is what he intended. It would be wrong of me to encourage my youngest daughter to follow the example set by her elder sister, in disobeying her father’s wishes. As for myself, however, I have learned, Margaret, that a mother has a duty to her daughters which can sometimes subvert her duty to her husband. I intend to continue our correspondence if it pleases you.

I will remain at Drumlanrig at least until September, and hope that you will write to me here. You are much missed, Margaret. I pray you do not forget that.

Mama