A Christmas Scandal by Jane Goodger

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