Jenny nodded. “She has taken to you already, and she’s in a dreadful state for fear you’ll go too.”
“If I go,” Maggie said firmly, “it will not be by choice. She’s a dear girl, and a pleasure to teach. It is the duke that concerns me.”
The moment she said it, she knew she had spoken too freely. But Jenny only tilted her head, waiting.
“I suppose you know,” Maggie said cautiously, “the reputation his Grace holds in London?”
Jenny’s posture stiffened. “I know.”
“They call him the Gambling Devil—and with reason. I heard he took Lord Swisser’s fortune in a single night. The man was found, desperate, ready to throw himself into the Thames. He’s in debtor’s prison now. I had thought it mere gossip—but after meeting the duke, I begin to wonder.”
Would Jenny be offended? Mrs Thornton certainly would have been. But Jenny merely sipped her tea.
“Servants talk, you know,” Jenny said quietly. “We hear everything. Perhaps you also heard the rest of the story. Lord Swisser had a scandal—not that Society called it such.”
“I haven’t heard, no.”
“Well, here it is. Lord Swisser was said to have got his sister’s maid with child. I knew the girl—she came from my own part of the country. Sweet, simple creature. I daresay he promised her marriage. When her condition became known, she went to him for help. He denied it, of course—threatened to have her whipped or imprisoned if she spoke again. She was turned off without wages. A week later, she was found drowned in the Thames—by her own hand, they said.”
Maggie set her cup down with a clatter. “Goodness. What a vile man.”
Jenny shrugged. “It is hardly a new story. Gentlemen may do as they please. For my part, I cannot be sorry that Lord Swisser lost his fortune. I almost wish he had followed her into the river.”
Silence fell. Maggie stared into her cup, shaken.
“So you mean that his Grace only ruins men who deserve it?” she asked at last.
“I could not say,” Jenny replied. “I know nothing of his Grace’s affairs. But the men I’ve heard of being ruined by him have all deserved it. Others disagree, of course—Lord Swisser’sfriends made a great outcry, as did the Society beauty he was to have married. But I am not inclined to weep over them.”
Maggie said nothing. She could not help thinking of her father again—lurching through the doors of a gaming hell, pockets empty, eyes bright with desperate hope.
Would the duke have ruined a man like that?
He need not have. Papa had done it himself.
“His Grace is a hard man, to be sure,” Jenny continued, “but he was not always so.”
Maggie lifted an eyebrow. “No?”
“No. They say he was quite different before his sister died. Lady Catherine, that was her name. She married a fine man, although of course that was before my time. Miss Emma is their child, and by every account, the family was very close and perfectly happy.”
“And how did she die?” Maggie pressed gently, leaning forward, a sense of foreboding stirring in her chest.
Jenny sighed, biting her lip. “Oh, it was awful. She…”
A knock on the door made them both start.
“Miss Winter?” came Mrs Thornton’s crisp voice. “Is Jenny in there?”
Jenny shot Maggie an apologetic glance and hurried to open the door. Maggie rose, wary of the housekeeper’s reaction.
Mrs Thornton’s gaze swept the room—the tea-tray, the cups—and her expression softened.
“Ah, a little tea-party, I see.”
“I borrowed the nice crockery from the servants’ cupboard,” Jenny admitted. “I hope you do not mind.”
“Of course not, of course not,” Mrs Thornton answered, flashing Maggie a smile. “I am glad that you’re making Miss Winter feel at home. Jenny, I have just received a note from your parents. Your mother is ill again, and they hoped you could return home tonight.”
