At the theater Bridget Gunning concentrated on getting Maria ready, then attended to her own transformation. Peg Woffington's dresser, Dora, tightened the laces on Elizabeth's corset then lifted the stiff petticoat and gown over her head.
"Your skin is translucent--it would be a crime to cover it with makeup. I'll darken your brows and lashes and put a bit of color on your lips. There! Now you're ready for a wig." Dora selected one with small curls. "Your real hair is far prettier than any of this false stuff, but 'tis the fashion to wear a powdered wig, especially when you are to be formally presented to the Viceroy." Dora swept up Elizabeth's golden tresses and pinned them to the top of her head then fit the powdered hairpiece over them. She stepped away from the mirror so that Elizabeth could see herself.
"Oh, I can't believe it's me!" Beth ran her hands over the white tulle skirt then lifted it slightly so she could see her lacy stockings and satin slippers. "Thank you so much, Dora!"
"Here's the fan that matches the gown. Slip the ribbon over your wrist so you won't lose it."
Beth gazed reverently at the silk covered fan as she opened and closed it. "Oh, I promise I won't lose it, Dora." Suddenly, she caught sight of her sister. "Maria," she whispered, awestruck, "you look like a princess."
"Our English princesses are ugly! I look like an angel."
Beth saw the pearls threaded through the curls on her sister's powdered wig and the silver ribbon on her fan. Maria had on pale white face paint and red rouged cheeks. "Yes, just like an angel."
"Don't tell me these elegant ladies are my little girls?" Jack Gunning teased, as he paid homage with a low bow.
"Father, you look like a Lord of the Realm!" Beth's eyes shone with pride at her handsome father, garbed in a dark blue satin suit with lace at collar and cuff.
"Wait until you see your mother."
Official invitation in hand, Bridget swept into the wardrobe room, a vision in royal blue lace. She was never lacking in confidence, and the elegant gown and faux jewels added an air of supreme authority. No queen could have appeared more regal. "Peg has sent her carriage for us. Above all, remember your poise this evening."
A coach stood waiting at the theater's colonnade, but when Jack made to open its door, Bridget stopped him and raised her eyes to the driver. "The carriage door, if you please, sirrah! Be quick about it before this accursed Irish wind blows us into Dublin Harbor."
The coach drove quickly up Cork Hill, but the lower castle yard was congested with carriages, and the fashionably dressed guests who had alighted from them formed a jostling crowd that pressed forward toward the upper castle yard. As they joined the throng Bridget ordered, "If we get separated, we'll meet at the state apartments."
In less than a minute, Elizabeth was surrounded by a mob.
She searched the sea of faces but found none of them familiar. She did not panic because she saw there were other young ladies in white gowns who were obviously going to be presented to the Viceroy. At a sudden gust of wind the girl beside her cried out and clutched her head. Elizabeth saw that the girl's powdered wig had been snatched by the blustery sea breeze and was rolling across the courtyard. Without hesitation Beth chased after it, but the wig eluded her and rolled beneath the wheels of a carriage.
Elizabeth bent to retrieve it and to her dismay found that it was no longer white but the color of sludge. She carried it in the direction of its owner and only found her in the throng because she was crying. "I'm so sorry ... please don't cry."
"Charlie, I should box your ears! Why were you so careless?"
Elizabeth knew this was the girl's mother. Her heart went out to the small, dark female, because she knew what it felt like to incur a parent's wrath. "It wasn't her fault, my lady. The wind snatched it, then a carriage ran over it before I could catch it."
"Well, it's totally ruined, and you cannot possibly be presented to the Viceroy without it, Charlie. You would be a laughingstock!"
The girl began to sob. She only came up to Elizabeth's shoulder, and she looked so young and vulnerable that it wrung Beth's heart. "Please don't cry ... it will be all right. You can have my wig," she said impulsively. She immediately removed it and handed it to the young lady's startled mother.
"But, my dear, what about you?"
"I can manage without it. I've never worn one before."
The older woman, filled with gratitude, stared at Elizabeth's golden tresses. "You have beautiful hair indeed, and a generous heart to go with it." She fit the powdered wig over her daughter's dark curls then pulled out a lace-edged handkerchief and tenderly dried her tears. "My _pauvre petit_. Don't be upset, darling--you look quite lovely once again."
Charlie smiled at her mother then took Beth's hand. "You are an angel! I thank you with all my heart. What's your name?"
"Elizabeth Gunning. I got separated from my family."
"You stay close by us, Elizabeth, until we find your own mother."
Beth inwardly cringed at the thought of her mother's fury when she saw her without her powdered wig. She glanced at the older woman and knew instinctively that there was love and affection between mother and daughter. The knowledge warmed her heart.
By this time the crowd had thinned, and Beth and Charlie, hand in hand, finally made their way to the magnificent state apartments, whose ceilings were painted with scenes from Ireland's history. The outer gallery was crowded with guests, peeresses, and _debutantes_, all awaiting entrance into the Long Gallery. It took only ten minutes for Beth to come face to face with her mother.
"Elizabeth! Why on earth have you removed your wig? Put it back on immediately!" Bridget ordered.
Beth's eyes widened with apprehension. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
"Allow me to introduce myself." Charlie's mother held out her hand to Bridget. "I'm Dorothy Boyle, Countess of Burlington, and I want to congratulate you on Elizabeth's exquisite manners and generosity of heart. My daughter, Charlotte, had an unfortunate accident with her hairpiece, and Elizabeth came to her rescue. Your daughter has the most beautiful hair I've ever seen, and she looks far lovelier without the wig."
Bridget took a deep breath. Then she actually clasped the hand of the woman without fainting. "I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Lady Burlington. I'm Bridget Gunning, daughter of Viscount Mayo."
"Not Theobald Mayo? Well, bless my soul, before I married I met Theobald on many occasions. He was a friend of my late mother. What a small world this is. How providential we have met--our daughters are already fast friends."
They heard the chamberlain begin to announce the names of the _debutantes_ who were to be presented to the Viceroy. "Hurry, Charlotte, he'll be announcing the names starting with B at any moment. Don't forget to hold your head up high when you walk down the Long Gallery." She turned back to Bridget. "See you later."
"Elizabeth! Do you have any notion of who she is? She's the wealthy Countess of Burlington, who owns a palatial mansion in London's Pall Mall. Her daughter, Charlotte Boyle, is one of the greatest heiresses in the kingdom!"
"You're not angry because I lent her my wig?"
"On the contrary. For once you used your head!" Bridget laughed at her own pun. "You must introduce Maria to Charlotte. Nothing is more advantageous than influential friends. Come, girls, let's push closer to the doors so we can see into the Long Gallery."
"Where is Father?" Maria demanded. "I shall go without him if they announce my name and he isn't here."
Bridget craned her neck to observe what was going on in the Long Gallery. "By the look of things, you won't need him. Apparently, they announce the parents' names and their rank but the young lady being presented walks down the Long Gallery alone."
Elizabeth caught a glimpse of the gallery lined with people who, in effect, were an audience for the young ladies making their debut. She realized it would be the same as being on stage. She could hear low murmurs, coughs, and the rustle of garments coming from the members of the audience as they watched the presen
tations with varying degrees of attentiveness.
Presently, the chamberlain announced, "Lady Fiona Gower, daughter of the Earl and Countess of Granville--"
"Maria, you will be next. Gunning comes after Gower. Get ready, and remember your poise," Bridget hissed. She handed the chamberlain the invitation card on which was printed the names and pertinent information he was to announce.
The chamberlain waited until the Viceroy, enthroned at the far end of the gallery, finished speaking with Lady Fiona Gower. Then he cleared his throat and announced, "Mistress Maria Gunning, daughter of John Gunning, Esquire, of Castle Coote, and the Honorable Bridget Gunning, daughter of Viscount Mayo."
Maria stepped into the gallery and walked slowly forward. Suddenly, the audience ceased murmuring; no one coughed and even the rustle of garments stopped. Complete silence fell over the spectators as the beautiful young lady made her way down the Long Gallery. She had the presence of a princess and the poise of a goddess. When she made her curtsy to the Viceroy, the audience let out a collective sigh then began to buzz like a beehive.
The Chamberlain intoned, "Mistress Elizabeth Gunning, daughter of John Gunning, Esquire, of Castle Coote, and the Honorable Bridget Gunning, daughter of Viscount Mayo."
Elizabeth lifted her chin and stepped forward. The buzzing had already stopped, and before she walked five feet, another hush fell over the curious spectators. As she gained confidence, the trembling left her knees, the thunder of her own heartbeat in her ears lessened, and she was able to summon a serene smile that held her audience in thrall. As she neared the end of the Long Gallery she distinctly heard a male voice murmur, "Two beauties!" When she sank down in a graceful curtsy before Ireland's Viceroy, the crowd broke into spontaneous applause.
"It is my distinct pleasure to welcome such a lovely lady to Dublin Castle and to my Court." His Excellency's eyes kindled.
She gave him a radiant smile. "The pleasure is mine, Your Excellency. You do me great honor." She moved on to the next chamber, which was St. Patrick's Hall where the ball was being held.
She expected to see Maria but it was Charlotte Boyle who stood waiting for her.
"I was supposed to sit on the dais behind the Viceroy, but I was so nervous that I forgot and came straight into the ballroom," Charlotte said with a bubble of laughter.
"Will your mother be angry with you?" Beth asked anxiously.
"Oh, no. She won't be angry, but she will tease me endlessly about being nervous, and Father will say, 'Spit in their eye, Charlie, you've the best blood in Ireland!' "
Beth laughed as Charlotte mimicked her father's voice. "Do you live in Ireland?"
"No, we were just visiting our castle at Lismore. We might be known as the 'Mad Boyles,'" Charlotte confided, "but we have more sense than to come to Ireland in any month but August!"
"The rain can be endless," Beth sympathized. "I wanted to introduce you to my sister, Maria, but she seems to have disappeared." Elizabeth searched the crowded ballroom filled with sets of dancing couples, ladies in elaborate gowns, gentlemen in formal attire, and military men in resplendent uniforms.
"Maria and I introduced ourselves, then she went off on the arm of a handsome cavalry officer."
Before Elizabeth could respond, her new friend was seized about the waist by a laughing red-haired young man.
"Here you are, little cousin! I've been looking everywhere for you. My friend William has been begging for an introduction, and I assured him you would be sitting up on the dais with his father. Thanks for making a liar out of me, Charlie."
"You don't need my help for that, Michael. You lie every day of your life. I'd like you to meet my friend Elizabeth Gunning. Elizabeth, this is my cousin Michael Boyle--definitely one of the reasons we're known as the 'Mad Boyles'!"
Michael took Elizabeth's hand and drew it to his lips. "One of the Beauties! Mistress Gunning--your servant. You caused quite a stir in the Long Gallery."
Elizabeth blushed profusely. "How do you do, my lord?"
Michael turned as a tall, blond man approached and towered at his shoulder. "I found her at last, Will. Charlie, permit me to present William Cavendish, Lord Hartington. This is my favorite cousin, Lady Charlotte Boyle."
"Lady Charlotte, I am enchanted."
Beth watched Charlie's face as the young lord lifted her fingers to his lips. Her eyes gazed upward as if she had become mesmerized, and Beth knew the handsome devil had rendered her momentarily speechless. Finally, she murmured, "My lord."
"My friends call me Will, and it is my sincere wish that you and I become friends, Lady Charlotte."
Beth was amazed at his easy manner. He was Lord Hartington, heir to the great Dukedom of Devonshire, yet he was warm, friendly, and totally unpretentious.
Michael touched his friend's elbow and said affably, "Will, may I present Mistress Elizabeth Gunning?"
When the Viceroy's son kissed Beth's hand and told her he was delighted to meet her, she realized he was completely sincere.
"They are choosing partners for the quadrille. Would you do me the honor, Lady Charlotte?"
As William led Charlie onto the dance floor, Michael Boyle executed a bow. "Would you do me the honor, Mistress Gunning?"
Beth experienced inward panic but did not permit it to show. Instead, she smiled and placed her hand in his. As soon as the music began, her feet executed the steps she had practiced so often, and her panic receded. However, it came flooding back over her when it came time to change partners and she found herself in the arms of a man she had never expected to see again. "You!" she gasped.
"Me!" John Campbell smiled down at her. "Mistress Gunning, can you ever forgive me for the cavalier way I treated you when we met by the river? I fully deserved to be slapped in the face. I had no idea you would be coming to Dublin to be presented to the Viceroy. Will you give me the chance to make amends?"
Her knees felt like wet linen, and her heart was beating much faster than the music. In his formal black evening attire with the snowy lace at his throat, he looked devastatingly handsome. "How will you do that, sir?" she demanded in a cool voice.
"By taking back my kisses?" His dark eyes glittered dangerously as he tightened his hold on her.
His words were so outrageous they sparked the desire to tease him in return. "I'll not give them back. I'd rather keep them."
Once more, it was time to change partners. A dark young man held out his hand to her, but Campbell did not release her. "Go to the devil, Henry." He bent his head and confided, "My brother. No young lady is safe with him."
The corners of Beth's lips lifted. "It must run in the family."
"I'm taking you off the dance floor. It's the only way I'll be able to keep possession of you. Every man here wants to partner the most beautiful _debutante_ at the ball." He kept firm hold of her hand as he led her off the floor and into another gallery. "You are quite possibly the loveliest _debutante_ ever."
Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she confided, "I'm not a _debutante_ at all, John. I told you I was going to be an actress. I'm just playing a part! Peg Woffington is my mother's dearest friend. She arranged our invitation, and this gown is a costume from Smock Alley Theater's wardrobe department."
John Campbell was stunned. For a moment he suspected that the lady was being an unmerciful tease. Then he realized that she was far too ingenuous for that, and he was overcome with a desire to preserve her sweetness and protect her innocence. He covered her hand with his. "Are you enjoying yourself, Beth?"
"Oh, 'tis the most wondrous night of my life, John. I've never seen anything like these state apartments with their liveried staff, scarlet carpets, and painted ceilings."
He followed her upward gaze. "That's King George, being supported by Liberty and Justice--two strapping wenches!"
Remembering her appetite, he led her past lavender scented fountains to long tables filled with wines, platters of cold food, and sweetmeats. "Would you like something to eat?" His mouth curved. "Not that you're the lea
st bit hungry, of course."
She laughed up into his face, thrilled that he had remembered her words, and answered as before: "Since it would be impolite to refuse, it would be my pleasure to taste everything, sir."
"But not the wine?" he asked, amused.
"Of course the wine! It cannot steal my senses tonight. You have already done that," she admitted shyly.
He wanted to keep her to himself to enjoy the sensual pleasure of watching her eat, but they were joined by William and Charlotte, followed by his brother, Henry, who was now escorting Maria Gunning. Then along came Michael Boyle with Charlie's mother, Lady Burlington, on his arm. Before John could introduce Beth, he discovered that everyone had already met and spoke like friends.
Elizabeth glanced at him quickly, and he easily read the plea in her eyes: _Please don't reveal my secret_. He handed her a glass of wine and touched his own glass to hers in a pledge. "To confidences shared," he whispered intimately.
Elizabeth took a sip and almost choked as she saw her mother and father moving toward her with plates in their hands. She drained her wine and set the glass aside before they saw her, then heard Lady Burlington's distinctive voice. "Mrs. Gunning ... Bridget, I declare you are monopolizing the most attractive man here tonight. I insist you introduce me."
"Lady Burlington, may I present my husband, John Gunning?"
With amazement, Beth saw her handsome father take the hand of the countess to his lips and heard the peeress say, "Dorothy! You must call me Dorothy, and I shall call you John." Elizabeth could clearly see that her mother was in her element, socializing with the nobility as if she rubbed elbows with the _ton_ every day. Beth, wanting to escape from the gathering, sent a desperate signal to her companion, but before they could move away they were joined by none other than the Viceroy himself.
"Hello, Father. The presentations must be over at last. I believe you know Lady Charlotte's mother, Lady Burlington?"
Undone - Virginia Henley Page 5
