Chapter Two #3
On the other side of the table, another young lady who had spent most of supper ogling Major Enderby simpered at him.
She took a dainty bite of a pastry and nodded her head.
“Of course, ladies with a good heritage and fine figure can delight in all kinds of delicious treats, unlike those of the lower classes who have a tendency to plumpness.”
Gwendolyn, with a toss of her curls, said, “Are you insinuating that the Prince Regent and the Queen Consort are peasants? They are both rather plump.”
The girl shot her an indignant glance but refused to be drawn into a discussion with Miss Burroughs.
She was determined to attract the attention of the major, having, like Gwendolyn, chosen her seat for supper with the intention of being within conversational distance of the highly celebrated and handsome war hero.
“You must have partaken of many such delicacies while you were in France, Major.”
Gwendolyn, wanting to impress the major with her better understanding of the situation on the Peninsula, quickly countered the girl’s comment with, “I don’t suppose you had many opportunities to indulge in French pastries when you were in Portugal.
Even the best of chefs would struggle to produce such marvels in the conditions of a military camp. ”
Major Enderby swept his gaze over the table laden with elaborately decorated sweetmeats and pastries. “That is so.” His answer was terse, inviting no further discussion about his experiences in the war.
But the ardent young lady opposite him was determined to attract his attention. She simpered. “Although I am sure you were too busy fighting that nasty Mr. Napoleon to enjoy all the balls and dinners in Paris.”
Mariana, who had been quiet throughout the meal, covered her mouth with her hand as she tried to suppress a laugh. But Bonnie had no such compunctions. “Mr. Bonaparte,” she said, just clearly enough for all those nearby to hear, “is conducting his current warfare in Portugal.”
The hopeful young lady pursed her lips and gave Bonnie what she meant for a disdainful glare but which simply made her look insipid.
“Little girls should stay in the schoolroom until they have sufficient education to participate in grown-up conversations. We were talking about Napoleon, the Frenchie who thinks he can conquer England, not some Bone person who is fighting in Portugal.”
“Let’s hope we are able to stop Napoleon before he turns his eyes towards England again,” Major Enderby said dryly. “He has a good military mind and is an innovative strategist.”
The girl was horrified. “You admire such a monster, Major Enderby? I thought you were the hero who defeated him.”
“Napoleon has done many good things for France and the French people, but his ambitions must be curbed,” Lord Montgomery said.
Tight lines appeared around the major’s eyes and mouth. He did not answer, but sipped his wine as if the lives of all these around the table depended on his ability to identify the precise vineyard in which it had grown.
Gwendolyn frowned, wondering why Grace did not say something that would distract the major from his dark thoughts. The tension between the supposedly betrothed couple was like a wire drawn tautly between them, ready to snap and send them both tumbling to the ground.
“I think it would be far better if men settled their differences in ways that did not involve shooting and guns. Just imagine how much more pleasant it would be if all the generals sat down together and played a game of cards.” Gwendolyn said with perspicacity and compassion that Lord Montgomery had not expected her to show.
Her words had the desired effect of lightening the mood around the table.
People laughed at her absurd suggestion and for the first time, Grace was drawn into the conversation.
“The officers near Middleton spend so much time at cards that they are bound to win a war by that method. I lost almost my whole allowance last quarter in a single game of whist.”
Bonnie giggled. “That’s because you were flustered when Colonel Gaitling mentioned how pretty you looked in your new sprig muslin dress.”
Grace looked a little flustered and Gwendolyn wondered whether Grace had developed a tendre for the colonel.
If so, Gwendolyn would not feel guilty for pursuing the major.
She breathed deeply and turned the full charm of her beauty on Enderby.
“Do you play whist, major? I have heard that gentlemen often prefer faro.”
The major answered soberly, although Gwendolyn could see his attention was divided between her and Grace.
“I play whist occasionally but I do not like games of chance. I prefer to assess the odds of life logically and to gather as much information as I can before taking action.”
Gwendolyn tilted her head to the side. “That explains why you have earned a reputation as such an excellent officer. If you know your enemy, you can defeat him.”
“It is never good to underestimate one’s enemies,” Enderby agreed.
“It is necessary first to know who is one’s enemy,” Grace said softly.
“What a strange thing to say,” Bonnie exclaimed. “You make it sound as if someone at this table is an enemy, but we are all English and know that Napoleon Bonaparte is our common enemy because he is a threat to our safety.”
Grace tried to laugh but it sounded more like a sigh. “I dare say you are right.” She gazed at the floral design on her plate, and Gwendolyn, realizing that Grace had been talking about her, also studied her plate.
Gwendolyn finished the morsel of cake, ignoring the waves of disapproval that flowed from her mother, but it was not as easy to ignore the way Grace left her ice cream to melt and stared at her grapes as if they were about to turn into a snake.
The group around the table sat in awkward silence for a few moments, even Bonnie being forced into silence by the tension. Fortunately, some of the young ladies had been showing off their prowess at the pianoforte, and they could all pretend that the music absorbed them.
The second Miss Wetherspoon brought her rendition of the third movement of Mozart’s Sonata number 11 to an end with a flourish. The guests gave scattered applause as they began to filter out of the supper room and back to the ballroom where the musicians were already striking up for the next dance.
Lady Burroughs arose from her place and blocked Major Enderby’s path as he prepared to exit the room. “Gwendolyn has not checked her dance card properly. I see she has a space open for the second set after supper. I am sure you would be delighted to take a turn with her.”
“Mama!” Gwendolyn whispered, horrified that her mother completely ignored the tension between Walker, Enderby, and Grace. Or worse still, was well aware of it and was using it to throw the major and her daughter together.
Major Enderby’s face was hard and his eyes inscrutable as he signed his name in the blank space and stalked away through the crowd without a word.
Sir Percy, who had watched all of this with a fascinated smirk, drawled, “Ah, how fortunate the major is. There isn’t a man in this room who wouldn’t like to take his turn with her.”
*
Montgomery stood up, ready to offer Gwendolyn a hand, but she had already risen from the table.
He watched wryly as Lady Burroughs intercepted Major Enderby’s progress but most of his attention was held by the byplay on Gwendolyn’s face.
A surge of sympathy welled up in his heart and he tried to remember that his purpose in becoming acquainted with the famed beauty was to give her a taste of her own medicine, to show her the folly of flirting with vulnerable young men and to separate her from the obviously infatuated Robert.
But in the short time he had spent with her, his opinion had changed so many times he felt almost as dizzy as he had as a boy when he used to spin around and around until he fell.
Robert Walker was hovering near Gwendolyn, as were a crush of other infatuated youths. Roland snorted softly. His cousin looked like a puppy dog who had just stumbled over his feet and was waiting for a treat from an indulgent mistress.
Gwendolyn’s beauty bloomed more brilliantly as the besotted young men around her cast their hearts at her feet like rose petals.
She gathered their tributes as was her right but she passed lightly from one to the other, trampling the forgotten offerings beneath her dainty feet as she sought her next conquest.
Miss Burroughs expertly played all her beaus that dangled on her puppet strings, but, Montgomery surmised, a woman of such inner strength and intelligence could not be fooled by the shallowness of her admirers.
As he strode across the room, he wondered how much of her interest in the major was because she sensed he possessed a strength that would not bend to her flighty whims.