Chapter Seven #2
Lady Burroughs clapped her hands lightly. “Dear friends, if you would like to take your seats, we will begin the entertainment.”
Mariana placed her hand on Gwendolyn’s shoulder. “Would you like me to ask Senor Valdova to excuse you from singing this evening?”
Gwendolyn frowned and cast a glance at her music teacher who was whispering instructions to the famed soprano Lady Burroughs had invited to perform at her musicale.
“Nobody will bother to listen to me when they know Senorita Baptista is the featured singer tonight. But if I don’t sing, Mama will likely make a fuss and people have gossiped about me more than enough for one Season.
” She finished the wine and Mariana took the glass from her.
She stood up but the rush of blood to her head made her feel dizzy and she grabbed hold of the back of the chair.
Lady Burroughs looked towards Gwendolyn, a frown on her face which she quickly smoothed away. “Before we hear from Senorita Baptista, my daughter Gwendolyn, who takes lessons with the Senor Valdova renowned for training singers with real talent, will sing a ballad.”
Scattered applause greeted this announcement amid the rustle of ladies finding their seats and gentlemen seeking places nearer the back of the room, from where they could easily escape if necessary.
Gwendolyn straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. Montgomery offered his arm. She was grateful for his support and by the time they reached the front of the room, she felt stronger. She gave him a warm smile. “Thank you. I hope my performance is worth your effort.”
He laughed. “I have never learned to appreciate music the way most members of society do, but I believe I shall enjoy at least one item this evening.”
Gwendolyn tilted her head. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you were flirting with me, my lord.”
He laughed again, and left her, a little angry with himself for allowing his feelings to be so obviously displayed.
He found a place near the back of the room from where he could see the singers clearly but where, if he should be bored, they would not notice him yawn.
He nodded at Major Enderby who was farther along, nearer the piano and also closer to where the Blythes were seated.
Senor Valdova sat down on the chair in front of the piano, giving his coat tails an ostentatious flick and flexing his fingers. He played a few notes and the audience quietened.
Gwendolyn stepped forward and swallowed. Her music master played the introduction to Robbie Burns’ Highland Mary and Gwendolyn dropped her hands to her sides. The first words of the song filled the room in her sweet voice.
Ye banks, and braes, and streams around
The castle o’ Montgomery,
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!
There simmer first unfauld her robes,
And there the langest tarry;
For there I took the last Fareweel
O’ my sweet Highland Mary.
When she sang about the castle of Montgomery, she caught Roland’s eye and he smiled at her.
As she continued the performance, Gwendolyn was finding it more difficult to breathe.
The dress that was already tight felt even tighter.
Her stomach was churning and as she finished the first stanza and began the second she clutched her hands over her abdomen.
Behind her, in the anteroom that led off the drawing room, the servants were laying out a light supper for the delectation of the guests.
She caught a whiff of roast pork and nausea engulfed her.
How sweetly bloom’d the gay green birk!
How rich the hawthorn’s blos-!
Her voice broke off in the middle of a word and she covered her mouth with her hand. She was horribly aware that the room had fallen completely still and everyone was staring at her, not because of her singing but because of the spectacle she was making of herself.
Her eyes opened wide for a second and then she crumpled to the floor.
The room erupted into loud exclamations and horrified gasps.
Ladies stood up, wielding their fans like weapons, and gentlemen surged forward.
Senor Valdova continued playing the accompaniment, more loudly as if that could distract from Gwendolyn’s unfortunate display.
Mariana pushed through the guests and knelt beside her cousin. “Gwen, Gwen! Speak to me. Are you all right?”
“Of course she’s not all right,” a sharp voice answered her. Mariana glanced over her shoulder at Lady Murgatroyd who was still seated in the arm chair the footmen had brought in for her, like an evil queen residing over a barren realm.
Gwendolyn’s eyes fluttered and she sat up slowly. “Oh, how dreadful,” she said. Her face was very pale and her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Mariana helped her to her feet. The two girls faced the circle of curious guests who were delighted to have yet another on dit to share.
Lady Burroughs was glaring at her daughter, her fury barely concealed. Her voice rang out over the hubbub in the room. “Just a little hitch. Please prepare to listen to the exquisite soprano, Senora Valdova, I mean Baptista.”
The guests ignored her. Except for Lady Murgatroyd. Her stentorian voice filled the void. “Gracious, Hester. This is more than just a hitch. What kind of mother allows her unmarried daughter who is with child to draw such attention to herself in public.”
The room erupted into a cacophony of horrified exclamations and excited chatter. Such a scandal was beyond any the members of the ton could possibly imagine. It sounded more like Billingsgate fish market on Friday mornings than a sophisticated gathering of the elite members of society.
Gwendolyn gasped as the truth of her situation became clear. She clutched Mariana’s hand and tried to find a way through the crowd but they were tightly thronged around her, staring as if she were a monkey on display at the zoo in Regent’s Park.
The room spun around her and she held her handkerchief to her mouth as bile rose in her throat. Words were flung at her like stones at an adulteress. Minx. Hussy. Trollop. Strumpet. Jezebel.
Gwendolyn’s eyes flew from one face to another. Girls who had envied her popularity and imitated her style, stared at her with hauteur. Mrs. Blythe looked both shocked and sympathetic but even she drew her daughters to her side, preventing them from approaching Gwendolyn.
Gwendolyn could not bring herself to look at Roland Montgomery who was still standing near the back of the room.
She was sure that triumphant contempt would fill his eyes.
He must be regretting his earlier kindness to her now that he knew the cause.
Her mother sank down onto the nearest chair, gasping for air and calling for hartshorn.
Only one person drew closer to her. Major Enderby, his face white, his eyes hard and sharp, stepped through the crowd. People fell silent.
“Leave her be.” His words echoed around the room. “She needs help not hate.”
Grace Blythe choked back a gasp and her mother quickly hustled her out of the room, followed by Bonnie. Little by little the guests drifted out, urged by the butler who had sent the footmen to fetch their coats and hats.
Ten minutes later the room was empty. Even Major Enderby had left. Lady Burroughs groaned and shooed away the housekeeper who had brought a glass of hartshorn to her and was fussing about calling a doctor.
Gwendolyn was still standing where she had been, her hands gripping the back of a chair, her knuckles so white it looked as if the bones were about to break through the skin. Mariana slid her arm around Gwendolyn’s waist, offering what support she could.
Lord Burroughs, who had been out but summonsed home by his valet, stormed into the drawing room, puffing for breath and his eyes flashing. His disgusted glance at Gwendolyn made her flinch.
“Oh, what did I do to deserve such a wretch of a child?” Lady Burroughs moaned. “I am completely ruined forever. I shall never dare show my face in society again.”
Gwendolyn tried to swallow the lump in her throat but it had grown too large to dislodge.
Lord Burroughs ignored his wife’s pitiful plea. “Major Enderby, I hear, is the father of the child. He must marry the girl. I expected to find him here, but he is obviously attempting to escape his duty.”
Gwendolyn shook her head. “He is not the father.” Her voice was raspy and it was difficult to speak but her parents still heard her.
“He made enough of a spectacle of himself for everyone to believe he is,” Lady Burroughs bit out.
“But he isn’t,” Gwendolyn insisted feebly. Everything in her life had gone horribly wrong.
“What is the use of denying what everyone believes?” Lady Burroughs groaned.
“It isn’t the major.” Gwendolyn stubbornly repeated her assertion.
“Then who is it?” Lord Burroughs snapped. “I will send for him immediately and you will be married by special license within three days.”
Lady Burroughs nodded in agreement with her husband. “Yes, yes. That must be so. Then perhaps within a year or two people will forget the scandalous beginning to your marriage and we will be respected once again and I will be able to hold my head up at social events.”
Gwendolyn shook her head.
“Do you mean you don’t know who the father is?” Lady Burroughs shrill voice pierced Gwendolyn’s ears. She groaned loudly. “How many men have you been with?”
Gwendolyn kept her lips tightly folded. She had not seen Robert Walker much since the disastrous night when he had bedded her.
She had heard that he was thinking of joining the militia and she had no intention of being a camp wife.
Besides, he had made it very clear that he had no wish to marry her.
She had nothing left but her pride, and that she held tightly around her, like a suit of armor.
“If you refuse to tell us the name of the man or men you slept with, then I will follow the obvious course of action and negotiate with Enderby,” Lord Burroughs said.
“But he’s going to marry Grace Blythe next week.” Mariana spoke up for the first time.
“That is no longer likely,” Lady Burroughs snorted.
Gwendolyn faced her father. “I will not marry a gentleman just because he was kind to me when everyone else turned against me. He does not deserve that.”
Lady Burroughs sneered. “I’ve worked hard enough to try to bring about a match between you and the major. Your actions have made it possible, and now you refuse to comply?”
Gwendolyn kept her head high. “I will not marry Major Enderby.”
“You must marry. That is the only way to overcome your disgrace. Tell me who the father of the child is.” Her father’s patience had run out before he had arrived home and each moment he was becoming more angry.
Gwendolyn remained stubbornly silent.
“Very well, if you refuse to answer, then I disown you. You are no longer welcome in my house.” Her father turned on his heel and left the room, banging the door loudly behind him and calling for the butler to bring him some brandy.
Lady Burroughs sniffed and sipped the hartshorn. Gwendolyn raised her pale face to her mother. “Where will I go?” Her voice broke on the last few words, but her tears had no effect on her mother.
“You heard your father. You are no longer any concern of ours. You are to leave immediately. And you can take your wretched cousin with you. Oh, how dreadful it is to have such an ungrateful daughter.”
Gwendolyn glanced out of the window where darkness filled the sky. “Come, Mariana, we will get our things and think about what we need to do and where we can go.”