A Lady's Fate

Chapter Six

A stunned silence shrouded the room, during which heads swivelled simultaneously in the direction of the commotion. Helena followed suit – and soon spied a crumpled heap of satin and lace sprawled across the ballroom floor. Upon closer inspection, Helena identified the heap to contain the Countess of Merton, the most esteemed noblewomen in the entire county - and none other than Miss Thorpe.

Cheeks flaming with mortification, Helena could only watch in horror as Lady Merton struggled to her feet, amid delightfully shocked gasps and whispers from the assembled crowd. Miss Thorpe had well and truly outdone herself this time; she had quite possibly lost the good opinion of the highest-ranking family Helena was ever likely to be acquainted with. This blunder would be near impossible to rectify; the damage could not be undone.

Still, what could Helena do but attempt to make amends?

Well aware that almost all eyes on the room were upon her, Helena bravely crossed the room to face the formidable-looking countess.

"My sincerest apologies, Lady Merton," stuttered Helena. "Are you injured in any way?"

It was terribly rude to ignore Miss Thorpe – but under the current circumstances, Helena did not trust herself to speak to Miss Thorpe without completely losing her temper in front of all their guests. Besides, Miss Thorpe seemed to be unharmed – she had managed to get to her feet, and now looked as if she would dearly like to slink off into the corner and disappear into the shadows. Thankfully, it seemed she had chosen this moment to be sensible, and remained silent, allowing Helena to deal with Lady Merton.

"Never in my life have I experienced such wild, brutish behaviour!" hissed the indignant countess, quite understandably seething. "This barbaric girl barged straight into me with such force that she knocked me clean off my feet! I have never, in all my years, been treated so abominably – and certainly not in the presence of supposedly respectable society!

"I have a great deal of respect for your father," sniffed Lady Merton importantly, drawing herself up to her full height, "but if this is the sort of company you elect to keep, Lady Helena, then I must declare that I shall not be gracing you with my presence at another event at Alverton Hall in the future.

"You, girl," she snapped now, addressing a quivering Miss Thorpe. "Arrange for my carriage to be sent to the front steps at once. I do not intend to remain here a moment longer than necessary."

"Yes, milady," whispered Miss Thorpe, instantly scurrying off.

"Now then," boomed Lady Merton. "Where has my husband got to? I daresay he will not be best pleased to hear of this behaviour."

With flashing eyes, Lady Merton swept towards the small chamber just off the ballroom where several card games were taking place, leaving Helena alone in the middle of the now-deserted dancefloor feeling as though she might just die of humiliation.

Glancing about her desperately, Helena found no comfort – only the disgusted expressions of the more esteemed guests, and the gleeful expression of those who hoped to gain a rung on the social ladder thanks to Helena's downfall. Though Lady Merton had now vacated the room, the musicians made no move to begin playing again – they remained motionless atop their platform, seemingly transfixed by the goings-on below. What need had they to play for the partygoers, when Lady Helena's own guest had single-handedly provided entertainment of far greater interest?

Helena was just contemplating bolting from the ballroom without a backwards glance when she almost fainted with relief to see Sir Edmund appearing in the doorway. Having clearly heard the sorry tale from the infuriated Lady Merton, Sir Edmund's brow was wrinkled in a distressed frown – but nevertheless, he strode purposefully across the room to stand in solidarity with Helena in the centre of the dancefloor, for which she would be eternally grateful.