Undone - Virginia Henley

by Undone (Signet) (lit)

  " 'Course I do. Good to see you, Dorothy. Thirsty work, receiving _debutantes_. Get me a drink, Will!"

  Dorothy took the Viceroy's arm. "William, allow me to introduce John and Bridget Gunning. Would you believe Bridget is Theobald Mayo's daughter?"

  Elizabeth held her breath as the Duke of Devonshire peered through his quizzing glass at her mother. "Ahh, mother of the Beauties! Easy to see your daughters get their looks from you. How is old Theo?" He took the wineglass from his son and drained it.

  "You young devils are monopolizing these beauties. Take them back to the ballroom immediately. There's a score of viscounts and uniformed officers lined up to dance with these pretty gels!"

  As bidden, the young devils dutifully escorted their partners back to the ballroom and reluctantly relinquished them to the eager nobles who had been waiting to dance with the _debutantes_.

  John Campbell waited exactly five minutes then tapped Lord Sackville on the shoulder and looked into Elizabeth's eyes. "I believe the lady is promised to me."

  She smiled up at him. "I believe I am," she said breathlessly.

  *Chapter Five*

  Since it was dawn before they arrived home, the Gunning sisters did not awaken until noon. Elizabeth stretched and smiled as the indelible memories of last night's presentation and ball came flooding back to her. Peg Woffington had arrived after her performance at Smock Alley and had told them they needn't return their borrowed clothes until today. She was the most generous friend anyone could ever have. Without her, Elizabeth knew that last night would never have happened.

  Before Maria started chattering, Beth closed her eyes and thought about John. He had finally told her his last name was Campbell--a good Scottish name. A picture of the darkly handsome male with broad shoulders flashed into her mind, but she knew it was far more than his looks that made her pulse quicken. It was the fact that he made her feel special and that the attraction between them was mutual. She sighed, remembering that he was returning to England, but her toes curled as she relived the good-bye kiss he had given her when they parted at dawn. Before she opened her eyes she made a wish that someday they would meet again.

  "Maria! Elizabeth! It is time to get up. Breakfast is on the table, and we have a great many things to discuss." Bridget's voice was brisk and brooked no argument.

  Elizabeth's eyes flew open. Last night she had done many things of which her mother would not approve, and now she would have to pay for them. As she threw back the quilt she admitted that she didn't care. It had all been worthwhile. Gloriously worthwhile!

  When she sat down at the table Beth glanced at her father and saw that he had a look of disbelief on his face, as if he had heard some shocking news. Her heart sank as she realized they must have been discussing a most serious matter.

  "At least thirty gentlemen asked me to dance last night," Maria boasted, taking her seat at the table.

  "And you, Elizabeth?" her mother demanded.

  "Per--perhaps a dozen," she said, apprehensive about the consequences of her answer.

  Bridget turned to Jack. "There you are, then! Do you need more proof that my decision is the right one?" she demanded.

  "What decision?" Maria asked, taking a bite of soda bread.

  "I have decided that we are returning to England to take our rightful place in Society."

  Maria squealed with delight. Elizabeth remained silent, wondering what their rightful place in Society was but certain that their mother was about to enlighten them.

  "Last night I had a _revelation_. My eyes were opened! I kept a close watch on both of you, and what I saw astounded me. The Gunning sisters, Maria and Elizabeth, were the center of attention. Your beauty attracted men like a lodestone! And they were no ordinary men. They were wealthy, titled gentlemen!"

  "We've always known their beauty was exceptional," Jack said.

  "Yes, but now they are of marriageable age, it would be a disservice to our daughters not to take advantage of that beauty. I have decided that we shall go and live in London."

  "Oh, how wonderful! Do you think David Garrick would let us act at Drury Lane Theater?" Maria asked excitedly.

  "You can both forget about becoming actresses!" Bridget decreed. "We are going to London so that you can make good marriages. Titled, wealthy men do not marry _actresses_, let me assure you. The highest an actress could aspire to is becoming a mistress. Look at my friend Peg, if you want living proof of that!"

  Elizabeth blushed. Maria had told her that Peg was Garrick's mistress, but she hadn't really believed it.

  "Titled men marry young ladies with dowries. Moreover, living in London will cost a great deal of money. Where do you expect to get it? From your father, Viscount Mayo?" Jack asked dryly.

  Bridget turned on him with blazing eyes. "It doesn't matter a damn that my father isn't Viscount Mayo! What matters is the perception! You saw what happened last night. The Countess of Burlington _perceived_ that I was Mayo's daughter, then even His Excellency, the Duke of Devonshire, _perceived_ that I was _Old Theo 's_ offspring. As an actress I know that what is paramount in this world is the _perception_, not the _reality_, Jack Gunning!"

  "We'll need real money to set up in London. Not just the perception of money, Bridget."

  "That's your job, Jack. You must return to Castlecoote and sell it immediately. We'll stay here. With any luck you can be back in a week, two at the most. I'll give you a list of things to keep, such as our books, and you can sell everything else."

  "You're serious, then?"

  "I've never been more serious in my life. Maria and Elizabeth already possess beauty, breeding, brains, and youth. As you saw last night, all they need are the right clothes and a few invitations to Court functions and our future will be set. Remember the words of the Bard: _There is a tide in the affairs of men, which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune_."

  Within the hour, Jack set off for Roscommon. Elizabeth went with him as far as the nearby stable so she could say goodbye to the mule. Inside, she was terrified that her world was going to be turned upside down and that her chance to become an actress, to lose herself in acting out roles, was being snatched away from her. As her father harnessed the animal between the shafts of the wagon, she ventured hopefully, "You do disagree with Mother's decision?"

  "My only concern is for you and Maria. If by some miracle you could make good marriages, it would be far better than a life on the stage. We'll try it her way." He touched her cheek tenderly then laughed. "What bloody choice do we have? When Bridget issues her orders none dare to disobey. Good-bye, Beth. Be a good girl."

  "Good-bye, Dad. Be careful!" She closed her eyes for a quick prayer: _Please make him come back to us. .. don't let him run away_!

  * * *

  When the Gunnings returned the fancy clothes to the theater, Peg greeted them warmly. "What an outstanding performance you gave last night. Your daughters made quite an impression, Bridget, and you didn't do so badly yourself, old girl!"

  "It turned out so successfully that we've decided to return to England. Our goal for Maria and Elizabeth is marriage!"

  "By God, Bridget, I admire your ambition. Their faces very well could be their fortune! But if you want husbands for them, they must abandon their aspirations to become actresses."

  "Do you think so?" Bridget asked, as if such a thought had never occurred to her.

  "I _know_ so," Peg said with conviction. '"Tis a ramshackle life, and actresses soon acquire notorious reputations, deserved or not. The only proposals Maria and Elizabeth would receive would be dishonorable ones. Not a hint of scandal must touch them if they are to make good marriages. But if you can successfully pull the wool over Society's eyes, it will be a gamble worth taking."

  "We need to earn some money to get us to London. If they cannot work as actresses, perhaps you could give them jobs behind the scenes?" Bridget suggested, counting on Peg's generous nature.

  "Well, let's see. You could be my understudy for the part of Sir Harry Wildair ..
. you learn lines quickly, Bridget. I intend to perform every night for the next fortnight, until we return to England, so it's just a precaution against an unforseen accident."

  "Thanks, Peg. Give me a script and I'll know it by tomorrow."

  "The girls can work in the wardrobe department. There are always costumes to be sewn, garments to be cleaned, wigs to be repowdered. You'll soon have enough for passage across to England."

  Elizabeth curtsied. "Thank you, Miss Woffington. Last night was like a magical dream. We are so lucky to have a friend like you. May we begin work today?"

  "If you are good with a needle, the wardrobe mistress will soon put you to work, Elizabeth."

  As Beth and her sister made their way to the wardrobe room Maria protested, "I don't want to clean costumes. I want to be an actress up on stage!"

  To banish her own fear and reassure herself as much as her sister, Beth said, "Don't you see, Maria? In England, we _will_ be actresses, but instead of performing on a wooden platform with a curtain, our stage will be the whole of London, and our audience will be the entire upper class of Society. We are to pretend to be _debutantes_, having a first Season, and try to make good matches."

  "Well, I certainly shan't have trouble catching a husband. I know what men like. You might have difficulties, though. You are far too unworldly and innocent for your own good," Maria declared. "Oh, I can't believe we're going to London! I've wished for it so often. Perhaps wishes really do come true."

  Elizabeth fleetingly thought of the wish she'd made about John Campbell, and her knees turned to water. "I told John I was going to be an actress. What if I meet him again in London?"

  "Dismiss it as a flight of fancy. Men are easily handled, Beth, if you go about it the right way."

  During the next two weeks the wardrobe department of Smock Alley Theater became Elizabeth's entire world. She loved working with the costumes, especially the ladies' garments, and she absorbed like a sponge all the tricks the wardrobe mistress taught her about changing the look of a gown. With a froth of lace, some bright satin ribbons, or the addition of delicate artificial flowers, the appearance of a dress could be transformed from plain to fancy. Changing a matching petticoat to one whose color contrasted with its overdress produced a gown that would not be recognized. Sleeves could be added or removed, necklines raised or lowered, and a gown with a fitted waist could be turned into a sacque or half-sacque with a full, flowing back.

  When the fortnight was up the Gunnings bade good-bye to Peg Woffington and David Garrick, who were returning to London's Drury Lane Theater a week before the opening of Parliament in September. This date marked the beginning of the busy social Winter Season, when politicians and the _ton_ returned to London after spending the summer at their country estates.

  Elizabeth and Maria each received five shillings in wages, and Bridget immediately relieved them of their money and added it to the ten shillings that Peg had paid her to understudy. She put it in the bag she had sewn into her petticoat along with the money Jack had made by selling the turnips. Back at their room off Dame Street

  , she took out all their money and counted it. Including the sovereign she had taken for safekeeping from Jack and the crown she got when she pawned Elizabeth's harp, they now had seven pounds. "Your father could have been back by now if he wasn't so feckless!"

  Elizabeth fought a feeling of panic, wondering if he would return at all, but knew better than to voice such a doubt. The next day was spent packing their carpetbags, while their mother went to inquire about the cheapest passage to England. That night, when her father returned, Beth burst into tears.

  "Stop that sniveling immediately, Elizabeth. We'll have no melodrama. Anyone would think you were off to be executed, rather than embarking on the most advantageous journey of your life."

  Jack winked at his daughter, knowing she shed tears of relief. "No need to cry, beauty. I brought more than turnips this time."

  "How much did you get?" Bridget sounded ready to murder him if he had let them down.

  "When Thomas Longford offered me a hundred pounds for Castlecoote, I informed him Lord Lanesborough had offered me double for the land alone. It was a bit of an untruth, but I reasoned Tom Longford couldn't very well rush up to his lordship and question him. Next day Longford offered two hundred, cash on the barrel!"

  "Two hundred!" Bridget was pleased, but she couldn't bring herself to praise him. "We should've sold Castlecoote long ago!"

  Early the next morning, the Gunnings boarded a boat that was transporting cattle to the Liverpool stockyards. There were no passenger cabins on the livestock barge, but the captain agreed to give them passage for a few shillings, if they were willing to sit up on deck. While Elizabeth went to befriend a calf, Maria complained that the smell was making her sick. For once she got short shrift from her mother. "_Mal de mer_ is a fashionable complaint. Stick your head over the rail. I wasn't about to waste money on a fancy sailing ship, when we still have to buy stagecoach tickets from Liverpool to London."

  That night, when they arrived at the Liverpool docks, Elizabeth and Maria sat on their carpetbags while their parents argued. "We should take a room, Bridget. The girls need sleep."

  "They can sleep in the coach. If we travel on the overnight coach, we'll be in Stoke-on-Trent by morning and Coventry by tomorrow night. We can take a room there."

  "I wish you weren't so hard on the girls, Bridget."

  "If wishes were horses, beggars would ride! One of us has to have a plan of action. You seem to forget I'm doing this for them, Jack Gunning. Pick up that trunk and let's go."

  Four days later the Gunnings arrived at the White Horse Inn, in London's Piccadilly. Jack bought them all bread and cheese, then Bridget led the way into nearby Green Park. "Your father and I are going to search for a house we can lease. It might take all day to find one with a good address that we can afford. The park is the safest place for you until we return. Stay together, speak to no one, and keep your heads covered. We don't want anyone to remember your beautiful hair."

  The prospect of having to stroll around a park for hours when she was exhausted didn't sit well with Maria. "I hope the house they get has beds. I never closed my eyes in that wretched coach. When we get to the house, I'm going to sleep for a week."

  Elizabeth, aching all over, tried not to think about sleep. She fed her crumbs to the pigeons and gazed about. "This is a lovely park. It would be wonderful if the house was close by. The trees and grass remind me of Ireland."

  "Ugh, I hate Ireland--it's always damp and raining. This is the most exciting city in the world, and all you want to do is walk in the wretched park and feed dirty pigeons and squirrels. I want to explore London. We're here to catch husbands, but you'll never do it unless you grow up!"

  "You make it sound like catching salmon." Elizabeth thought of John Campbell, and her lips curved in a smile. "Men aren't fish."

  "Aren't they? You set out your bait and let them have a little nibble. You hook them and play them on your line until they are gasping before you reel them in. Then you devour them at leisure."

  The afternoon light was fading from the city's sky by the time Jack and Bridget Gunning returned to collect their daughters. Their mother's mood was one of outrage at the prices that London commanded for its accommodation. "It's barefaced robbery! There isn't a house in Mayfair going for less than two hundred pounds a year. Imagine them wanting us to spend every last penny we have to our name on the first day that we arrive!"

  "So you didn't get us a house?" Maria asked with dismay.

  "Of course I got us a house, and with a prestigious address, but we could only afford to lease it for six months. The Gunnings now reside in Great Marlborough Street

  . The house comes furnished and with a small staff--a cook-cum-housekeeper and an aging footman. Come girls, the walk will do you good, and it's the last fresh air you'll be getting for awhile. You will remain indoors and out of sight until we can transform you into young ladies of fashion. Thank G
od it's going dark and no one will see you arrive looking like beggar girls. With only six months to accomplish our goal, we've got our work cut out for us. Jack, first thing in the morning you can make the rounds of the moneylenders!"

  In Pall Mall, the huge black traveling coach swung through the gates of Burlington House and pulled up at the marble steps of the mansion. The coachman jumped from the box and opened the carriage door for the earl and countess as the butler, housekeeper, maid, and footman descended the steps to welcome the family home.

  "Take Lady Charlotte--she's fallen asleep. Traveling is so utterly exhausting." Flanked by her London ladies' maid and her housekeeper, the Countess of Burlington followed the footman carrying her daughter into the house and up the grand staircase.

  "Use the bedwarmer on Lady Charlotte's sheets. I don't want her coming down with a cold just as the Winter Season starts."

  As the footman placed her in a gilt chair while her bed was prepared, Charlie awoke in time to see her own ladies' maid come through her chamber door carrying a Dandie Dinmont terrier. "Hello, Dandy. I've missed you so much!" Charlie held out her arms and laughed as the little dog jumped up to lick her chin.

  "Don't unpack Lady Charlotte's trunks tonight. It will take hours, and she needs her rest. But you can get her some nice warm chocolate." Dorothy Boyle dropped a kiss on her daughter's dark curls. "Good night, darling. You must stay abed until noon tomorrow to regain your strength from the rigors of travel."

  The journey from Ireland had been far less rigorous for the Boyles than it would have been for lesser mortals. They had crossed the Irish Sea aboard their own yacht then ridden in their well-sprung traveling coach, with outriders for protection. They had not slept at inns but at their own residences of Bolton Abbey, Londesborough Lodge, and Uppingham Manor in Rutland, all of which had their own full staffs of servants to feed and pamper them.

  As the Countess of Burlington entered her own bedchamber, her maid asked, "Would you like hot water for a bath, your ladyship?"