by Jane Ashford
Inside, they found a gala welcome. Reeves was jovial; Ellen was crying noisily in her joy. And Alphonse came up from the kitchen to caper hilariously about the hall. In addition, they found flowers everywhere, and notes from Lady Merryn and Lillian. The first insisted they come to dinner the following day. Lillian expressed her gladness at their return and promised to call at the first opportunity.
Gwendeline fell into an armchair in the drawing room, touched and very happy. It was good to be back, she thought, and at this moment, she had to believe that everything would work out for the best.
Fourteen
The callers began as early as possible the next morning. Most simply left cards, as Gwendeline had told Reeves she was not in save to a few close friends. There was much to be done to the house, her wardrobe, and her state of mind before she faced curious acquaintances. Lillian Everly was the first visitor to be admitted; Miss Brown had disappeared belowstairs hours ago and was supervising a thorough cleaning.
“Gwendeline!” cried Lillian when she entered the room, giving Reeves no time to announce her. Gwendeline rose to meet her hug. “Oh, it’s so good to see you again. How unkind you were to go off without a word!”
Gwendeline hung her head. “No one could scold me as much as I have myself. If only I’d stayed for some explanation of that day’s events.”
Lillian nodded. “We were all so worried about you. No one had any idea where you could have gone. Lord Merryn made all sorts of inquiries but could find out nothing.”
“Did he? We went to a place Miss Brown knows, a lovely little seaside town.” She proceeded to tell Lillian the full story of her flight and residence in Penwyn.
“So Lady Merryn’s book really made you return? She’ll be so pleased!” Lillian smiled mischievously. “If she can be any more pleased. She’s created a sensation, you know, and society is positively lionizing her.”
Gwendeline laughed. “Well, I’m certainly grateful to her for writing it, though it’s a very sad story, of course.” She didn’t mention the role of Lord Merryn’s engagement in her return. “We’re to dine there this evening. I expect we’ll hear all about it. And I must thank her for portraying Mr. Blane in his true colors.” This came out rather fiercely.
Lillian agreed. “He’s gone out of town, Gwendeline. So you needn’t fear to see him. He’ll never really be accepted in polite society again, I should say.”
Gwendeline looked at her, astonished. “But, then, you don’t know?”
“Know what?” asked Lillian.
“I…I somehow thought that you’d been told of Major St. Audley’s journey and its purpose.”
Lillian flushed. “Major St. Audley? Has he left London again? He didn’t tell me.” She looked rather vexed.
Gwendeline hesitated. Should the story of her abduction be kept from everyone? The St. Audleys had evidently thought so. But when she looked into Lillian’s puzzled eyes, she felt that she must tell her. And so, she related the whole history of her kidnapping and rescue.
Lillian was shocked and astounded. “Oh, Gwendeline,” she said, taking the other girl’s hand, “how glad I am that you’re safe. What a horrible experience!”
“I need not tell you that this isn’t to be repeated. Much as Mr. Blane deserves public exposure, I don’t wish it known.”
“Of course,” said Lillian. “I’m sure that no one will hear of it. Lord Merryn somehow managed to keep the events of our ride that afternoon completely secret, and even fewer people know of this.”
“He has recently become engaged, I understand,” said Gwendeline with studied unconcern.
Lillian frowned. “Did you see the notice? It seems so, but it has puzzled many people. Adele doesn’t seem the sort of girl he would choose.” Lillian smiled and shrugged. “But one often thinks that of one’s acquaintances. It’s certainly true that they’re engaged. Adele has become intolerably conceited.”
“Ah,” answered Gwendeline. She’d hoped for some better answer.
“I’ve nearly decided to remain single,” Lillian went on. “When I see how unhappy so many married people are, it quite discourages me.”
Diverted from her own problems, Gwendeline studied her friend carefully. “Oh, Lillian,” she said. “Among all your suitors you’ll surely find one who will make you happy.”
Lillian grimaced. “My mother believes me to have done so. The Duke of Craigbourne has been particular in his attentions of late, and Mother has hopes he may offer for me.”
“And are you fond of him?” asked Gwendeline.
“What has that to do with marriage? He’s very rich and has rank and position. If he’s rather fat and twenty years older than I, what concern of mine is that?” Lillian seemed close to tears suddenly. “I don’t know what I’ll do if he comes to the point.”
“You must refuse him, of course,” answered Gwendeline indignantly. “He sounds completely unsuitable.”
Lillian laughed, though her eyes were damp. “Oh, Gwendeline, I’m so glad you’re back. Perhaps with you here, I could even summon the courage to do so.”
“Of course you will,” Gwendeline replied. “He must be perfectly horrid.”
“No,” admitted the other girl. “He’s not horrid. He’s a kind and jolly man. I fancy I could like him if I didn’t have to consider marrying him.” She sighed. “My parents, particularly my mother, have been so good to me and given me so much that other young girls are denied. I don’t think I could bear to disobey and disappoint them in this matter.” She paused, looking sad. “And it’s not as if I’ve been asked by someone I love.”
Gwendeline spoke carefully. “Major St. Audley talked of you on our journey. It seems you’ve seen quite a bit of each other this season.” She plunged recklessly on in spite of Lillian’s blush and averted head. “He’s a charming man.”
“The major is quite charming,” answered Lillian tonelessly. “But he hardly enters into a discussion of marriage. He’s completely uninterested in the subject and the state.”
“Indeed?” asked Gwendeline. “What makes you say that?”
Lillian was looking out the window. “Oh, a group of us were talking of marriage, joking you know, at a ball some weeks ago. Major St. Audley stated very positively that he did not expect to marry for a long time, if ever.” Her expression hardened. “Obviously, he cares for no one but himself.”
“Perhaps he wishes to make his fortune before he marries.” She tried to speak lightly and yet seriously, but Lillian didn’t appear to understand.
“In the army?” she replied scornfully. “No, his chief interest is his own pleasure. Let’s talk of something else. Lord Wanley has also published a book, you know.”
Gwendeline allowed the conversation to be diverted. “Has he? Poetry, of course?”
Lillian nodded, smiling. “Very poor poetry. And very embarrassing. He used all those awful things about me. Everyone is most amused.”
Gwendeline laughed. “Poor Lillian. You remain the nymph.”
The other girl made a wry face. “It’s excessively silly. But at least he’s been kept so busy that he stopped offering for me quite so often. He paid for publication himself, and the printer is encouraging him to do another. They say his mother is furious. Oh, and Gwendeline, I nearly forgot. An old friend of yours has undergone a complete change of character.”
“Who?” asked Gwendeline.
Lillian’s eyes twinkled. “Mr. Horton. He’s become one of the leading lights of the dandy set. He looks absurd, but then, all of them do.”
“What happened to him, I wonder?”
“He began receiving much more notice after I discreetly made his financial circumstances known, but I can’t say what led him to change. He is paying marked attentions to Alicia Holloway. An interesting announcement is expected momentarily.”
Gwendeline dissolved into laughter. “Oh, it’s good to be
back. I haven’t laughed so since I left London.”
Lillian smiled at her. “I hope that will keep you here with us. It’s been very flat without you.” She squeezed Gwendeline’s hand, then rose. “I must go. I promised to meet my mother in Bond Street. She wishes me to have a new gown for the Duchess of Craigbourne’s ball. It closes the season, and will be very brilliant.”
When Lillian had gone, Gwendeline sat by her drawing room window, pensive. She believed Lillian had shown signs of feeling for Major St. Audley. Something must be done, she thought.
Gwendeline spent the rest of the day on household chores, seeing no other callers. As she was going upstairs to dress for dinner, she met Miss Brown coming down. “I’m still not certain I should accompany you to Lady Merryn’s this evening,” her former governess said. “She invited me to be polite but…”
“Nonsense,” interrupted Gwendeline. “Of course you’ll come. You’ll be obliged to go everywhere with me now that I’ve set up in my own house, Brown. You cannot escape and may as well get used to it.”
Miss Brown smiled. “I’m sure you can find other chaperones, but I’ll come this once if you wish it. I admit I’m rather curious to meet a real novelist.”
Gwendeline took pains with her appearance that evening. Not only was it her first venture into society since her return, but she expected to see Lord Merryn as well. She wished to thank him, but chiefly she wished to find out more about his engagement. To gather the courage to do that, she needed to look her best. She put on a pale green gown trimmed with French braid and threaded a green ribbon through her curls. She’d purchased the dress just before her abrupt departure and had never worn it.
She met Miss Brown in the hall and together they descended to the coach waiting to take them to the countess’s house. Miss Brown looked well in a lavender silk gown with lace at the throat and seemed pleased when Gwendeline complimented her on it. They arrived a few minutes early. Gwendeline hoped to have an opportunity to greet Lady Merryn and talk with her before any other guests arrived. They found the countess and her younger son in the drawing room, and Lady Merryn rushed up to Gwendeline and hugged her. “Oh, my dear,” she cried, “you cannot know how glad I am to have you back! Andrew has told me something of the horrors you endured. Why didn’t you stay here with me?” She paused as if struck by some idea. “What a novel it would make,” she finished.
“Mother,” began the major warningly.
“Of course, I should never write such a book, but the story is very exciting.”
“Only in a novel, I assure you, Lady Merryn. To live through it was not at all romantic.”
“Of course not, you poor darling,” agreed the countess. “You must have been terrified.”
“Not too terrified to hit me a sharp crack with a candlestick,” put in Major St. Audley.
Lady Merryn nodded approvingly. “Very courageous of her, too,” she said. “I hope I should have done just the same in her situation.”
“I beg your pardon, Mother,” protested her son. “But I hope you would not.”
“You know what I mean, Andrew. Don’t be a ninny.” The major held up his hands in mock defense.
Lillian entered then, followed by a footman with a note for Lady Merryn. She read it as the others greeted the new arrival. “Oh dear,” said the countess. “This is dreadful news.”
“What is it?” asked the major quickly.
“It’s from Alex,” the countess went on. “He says…” She paused, glancing uncertainly at Lillian Everly.
“I’ve told Lillian everything,” Gwendeline put in.
Lady Merryn nodded. “Alex says that Blane has gotten away across the Channel. They waited for him at that dreadful house, but he never returned. Someone must have warned him. They set off to take him too late, he reached the coast and went on to France.” She looked up from the note. “Alex will not be able to dine tonight,” she added anticlimactically.
Gwendeline was disappointed to hear that she wouldn’t see Lord Merryn, perhaps more disappointed than by the news of Blane’s escape. Lady Merryn rose and rang the bell. The butler appeared in the doorway. “Tell the cook to serve dinner, Allison,” the countess said, and he bowed and disappeared.
Their mood lifted a little over dinner. The major took the head of the table and made a great many jokes about his luck in dining alone with so many lovely ladies. Everyone but Lillian seemed amused by his chatter, though Gwendeline couldn’t summon any real high spirits.
Lady Merryn talked enthusiastically of her novel. It had been read by all society, and everyone was talking of it. “I’d already begun a society novel, as you know, Gwendeline. But when you left I wished to do something. I knew many of the true particulars of your mother’s life, since I had joined Alex occasionally in helping her, so I determined to write it all without telling anyone. I hoped the novel might reach you when letters were impossible.” The countess looked smug. “My books circulate very widely, you know. With a small amount of alteration, my early chapters were made to fit, then it was just a matter of finishing. Very easy and a great deal of fun.” She looked thoughtful. “In fact, I may switch to that sort of novel entirely.” She smiled at the company. “At any rate, I succeeded in bringing Gwendeline back to London and eased everyone’s minds. I’m very pleased with myself.”
“As we have noticed, Mother,” answered the major.
“Well, I’m very grateful,” said Gwendeline. “You repaired my foolish mistake, for which I sincerely apologize to all. I was so relieved when I read your book, though the story was sad.”
Lady Merryn nodded. “Yes, poor Annabella was never very happy after she married. It was most unfortunate. She was such a lively, beautiful girl.” This remark sobered the group once again, and soon after, Gwendeline and Miss Brown took their leave. They were home by ten and in bed early. Gwendeline lay awake for a while, thinking of her mother, the whereabouts of Mr. Blane, the earl, and other things. She felt that a great deal of resolution would be required of her if things were to be set right. As she fell asleep, she determined to have it.
Invitations began to arrive the next day. Gwendeline had returned just in time for the final whirl of parties that would close the season, and she found herself with a choice of several outings for most evenings during the next three weeks. Brown was overwhelmed by the number of gilt-edged cards that came in the post each day. “But Gwendeline,” she protested, “We won’t have a night at home. I simply can’t accompany you to all of these.” She indicated the pile of cards.
“Oh yes you can, Brown. And you must have some evening dresses. Shall we go shopping today? I would like a new gown for the Duchess of Craigbourne’s ball.”
“You mustn’t buy clothing for me,” replied Miss Brown.
“Nonsense,” said Gwendeline. “Of course I shall. I can’t have my chaperone looking less splendid than the others, especially when she is so much nicer.”
“You should go with Lady Merryn. She knows how to manage these affairs.”
“No, Brown, I don’t want to be chaperoned by Lady Merryn. I don’t want to depend on the family now that Lord Merryn is engaged.”
Gwendeline eventually won this argument, and they went out shopping later that day. They ordered several gowns suitable for an older woman in society, and Gwendeline ordered an exquisite ball gown of white crepe embroidered with tiny blue flowers and green leaves. Seed pearls formed the center of each flower, and the dress had tiny puffed sleeves and a narrow blue sash. Gwendeline fell in love with the pattern as soon as she saw it.
They returned home for tea laden with parcels and tired out. They were engaged to attend a musical evening after an early dinner, and thus had to go up to change almost immediately. A celebrated singer was to perform for a “select” group which, Gwendeline thought, meant everyone in the ton who could be got to come and hear her.
As they walked up the stairca
se to their hostess later that evening, she could hear the buzz of conversation from the crowded room beyond. She felt a little nervous at the thought of facing so many curious questioners. They entered the room without mishap, however, and for some time Gwendeline was kept busy explaining her long absence from town in the middle of the season. She’d already decided to say that she had been exhausted from the rigors of constant socializing and in need of a rest. Many inquisitive ladies appeared to find this explanation incredible; they seemed to believe that the embarrassment attendant on publication of Lady Merryn’s book had routed her. Gwendeline allowed this story, seeing in it a plausible excuse and a way of discouraging further questions. But she firmly denied any estrangement between herself and the countess. She’d moved, she insisted, only because the time set for her visit was over. The gossips had to be satisfied; they got no other tale from Gwendeline and Miss Brown.
The chief attraction of the evening, Madame Carrini, was delayed, and the hostess fluttered about looking harassed. Gwendeline waved to Lady Merryn, who had come in and been immediately surrounded by a large group of admirers. She was about to make her way across the room to Lillian, similarly encompassed, when she heard a man’s voice behind her say “Good evening, Miss Gregory. I hope you are well.”
Gwendeline turned to find a stranger confronting her. He was an unprepossessing young man, slight and brown-haired, but this lack was offset by the magnificence of his attire. His bottle-green coat was hugely padded at the shoulders and nipped in to a wasp waist; its silver buttons were the size of sovereigns, and its tails nearly swept the floor. Skin-tight yellow pantaloons were buckled under his insteps, and his shirt-points were so stiff and high that it was clearly impossible for him to move his head. An awesomely intricate neckcloth and a waistcoat of startling brilliance, heavily encumbered with chains and fobs, completed the costume. “I beg your pardon,” Gwendeline said.
“I inquired after your health,” the stranger simpered. “You’ve been out of town this age.”