Chapter Eight
The sun was just pushing past the early morning clouds and bathing the strangely quiet streets in the grey light of dawn when the two girls slipped out of the side door of Burroughs House on Grosvenor Street.
Neither had slept the night before. No one had come near them, not even Meg or any other of the servants.
Mariana had found three portmanteaus and a couple of bandboxes into which she crammed items of clothes and necessities.
But Gwendolyn, once the full horror of the night’s events assailed her, had sunk down onto the floor and remained there, her head in her hands.
Mariana had finally coaxed her into changing into a walking dress and now, carrying a portmanteau and a bandbox, she shivered in the morning light.
She looked at her cousin now. “I don’t think you should cast your lot in with me. You could stay here.”
Mariana shook her head. “You heard what your mother said. Besides, someone needs to look after you. And your child.”
For the first time since Gwendolyn had stormed out of the drawing room leaving her mother bemoaning her fate, tears threatened to fall.
The road was quiet apart from some delivery carts and street sweepers.
A placid milkman stopped chewing the straw in his mouth to stare at them.
Mariana felt uneasy. “Come, Gwennie. If we go to the park we can find a bench where we can sit down. It will be easier to think out of the way of the carts and carriages on the road.”
Gwendolyn nodded dumbly and stumbled after her cousin. Mariana was not used to taking the lead in their exploits but Gwendolyn seemed to have lost the ability to think or speak.
Green Park was not usually very busy in the mornings except for the dairy maids who tended the cows that foraged there and the overly enthusiastic nannies who hustled their charges outside to benefit from the early morning fresh air.
The girls sank down on the first bench they came to.
Mariana took her coin purse out of her pocket and emptied the bronze and silver shillings and pennies into her lap.
Fortunately, she was quite frugal and saved most of her quarterly allowance, unlike Gwen who spent hers on all kinds of fripperies and bonbons.
But she had no idea how long her few pounds would last or how they could earn more.
Gwendolyn watched her count the little piles of coins.
“How much does it cost to buy a ticket on the mail coach?” Mariana had no idea where to go or who could help them but her priority was to leave London.
Gwen shook her head dully. “I’ve never thought about the mail coach except as an inconvenience that blocks the roads when we’re traveling to or from home, I mean Burrough Hall.” Her voice quavered on the last words.
Mariana drew in her breath but focused on their immediate problem. “I wonder if any of the dairy maids could tell us about the mail coach.”
Gwendolyn blinked back tears. “If we don’t know where we’re going, then it doesn’t matter anyway.”
Mariana bit out peevishly. “We have to do something. We can’t just sit here forever.”
Gwendolyn showed the first signs of animation. “Why don’t you just leave me alone here. You could go back home, to my my m … Lady Burroughs and remind her that she promised to look after you.”
Mariana, usually the peacemaker, was already regretting her short outburst. “I’m not going to leave you, and you know that.
We’ve always done everything together, ever since I came to stay with you and that’s not going to change now.
” She hugged Gwendolyn, the coins in her lap spilling out over the path.
The tears Gwendolyn had been holding back spilled over. She buried her head in her hands and sobbed noisily. Mariana was somewhat relieved. It was easier to deal with Gwendolyn’s hysterical emotions than her previous unusual unrelenting silence.
Gwen’s tears unlocked the desperateness of their situation that Mariana had been trying to avoid. Before long, she was sobbing with Gwendolyn and both had soaked handkerchiefs and sore throats and eyes.
“Oh, my goodness. Gwen? Mariana? Are you all right?” Freya Maynard rushed towards them.
Mariana’s sobs were the first to subside. With a watery smile she took the clean handkerchief Freya held out to her. “Thank you.”
Freya’s maid, who was hovering a few feet away, cleared her throat. “Miss, we need to get going.”
Freya turned to her. “Oh, Susie, I am sure we can take the basket to Mattie later. I know she is ill but she is improving each day and my friends need help now.” Mattie, an elderly housemaid who had served the Maynards for years, now lived with her daughter and when the Maynards had heard of her illness, they had done all they could to help her.
Susie had heard the gossip about the soiree at Burroughs House in the servants’ hall that morning and was determined to keep her young mistress from being tainted by association with someone as wicked as Miss Burroughs, but Freya only saw the distress of her friends and she could not leave them here when they so obviously needed her help.
“I think you should come home with me. Mama always knows what to do in a crisis.”
Susie’s mouth puckered in disapproval but she said nothing. Mariana looked gratefully at Freya and nodded.
“Well, come along then. We live just on the other side of the park,” Freya urged.
Gwendolyn’s sobs grew progressively softer and she took a deep breath. She helped Mariana gather their scattered things and then meekly trailed behind Freya and Mariana. Susie stalked far enough behind them so that none of her acquaintances could imagine she had anything to do with a fallen woman.
The Maynards’ townhouse was only just outside the park and a few minutes’ walk brought them to the pleasant house on the corner of Clarges Street.
Gwendolyn suddenly stopped. Mariana moved to her side. “Come on. I’m sure Lady Maynard will give us a cup of tea and I could do with one.”
“I can’t go in,” she whispered to Mariana.
The hall porter had already opened the door and Freya called to them. “Do come in. I think we will find Mama in her sitting room.”
Gwendolyn bit her lip and whispered, “Mariana can come in with you. There are some things she would like to ask a person who can offer advice but I’ll wait out here.”
Freya didn’t have a chance to answer. Lady Maynard had been informed of the unexpected visitors and she came down the grand staircase into the foyer. “Good morning, ladies. Do come in. Yes, you too, Gwendolyn.”
A footman took the bags she and Mariana had carried and they followed Lady Maynard into a pleasant morning room where sunshine was pouring through the windows. Lady Maynard shooed a cat off a comfortable couch and moved some books from a table.
Tears spilled down Gwendolyn’s cheeks at Lady Maynard’s kindness, resentful that her own mother had been so ready to disown her.
Lady Maynard slipped her arm around Gwendolyn’s shoulders. “There is a time to cry and a time to refrain from crying,” she misquoted, as she pulled out a chair at a round cherry wood table near the window, in the middle of which a bowl of peonies bloomed in blue, pink, and white profusion.
Gwendolyn took a deep breath and for the first time noticed the dark circles under Mariana’s red and swollen eyes and the heavy droop of her mouth. Her shoulders were slumped.
Lady Maynard, an unlikely guardian angel in her simple grey silk morning gown, held out her hand in a welcoming gesture.
“Come, dear. A hearty meal and a cup of coffee will be good for both of you. We haven’t had breakfast yet, although Lord Maynard ate earlier and has gone out.
” Her voice was cheerful and pleasant. The kindness of her words was so welcome after the bitter accusations and scornful looks that Gwendolyn breathed more easily than she had since the nightmare had started.
While Lady Maynard spoke to the housekeeper, arranging for breakfast to be served here rather than in the more formal breakfast parlor, Freya led Mariana to the table. She sat on the very edge of her chair, her hands clutched in her lap.
Freya’s sparkling eyes softened with concern. “Do make yourself at home. Papa and Mama have a way of making everything better.”
Gwendolyn stood uncertainly to the side of the table. Her head drooped and she gave an occasional sniffle. Freya looked from her to Mariana. “What has happened? It must be something quite dreadful to make you both so miserable.”
Gwendolyn could not look at her friend. She drew in her breath and scuffed her shoe along the carpet. Mariana, still sitting on the edge of her chair as if she needed to be able to escape quickly, spoke quickly. “I don’t suppose you heard what happened last night.”
Freya shook her head. “No, we couldn’t make it to Lady Burroughs’ soiree because we had dinner with an old acquaintance of Papa’s. What happened?” she repeated.
Lady Maynard, having finished her discussion with the housekeeper, returned swiftly to the table. She placed one hand on Gwendolyn’s shoulder and the other on Mariana’s. “Once we have had a good meal we will discuss what’s to be done. Now, make yourselves comfortable.”
Gwendolyn sank down onto the nearest chair, her hands still clenched in her lap, and her eyes fixed on the highly polished surface of the table.
Freya took her mother’s hint and knelt down in front of a pale blue sofa where the sharp mews of tiny kittens that had ventured out of their basket could be heard.
She tossed a tightly wound ball of red yarn over the carpet and the kittens tumbled over each other as they chased it.
She chatted about the kittens and even Gwendolyn raised her head to watch their antics.
As she played, the housekeeper and two housemaids set an array of breakfast dishes on the table.