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.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he addressed the assembled guests, with far more confidence than Helena could have mustered at that moment. "I would like to inform you that there has been a slight alteration in the arrangements for this evening. It has been brought to my attention that there is the possibility of snow later this evening – therefore, we have decided to move the refreshments forward in case any guests are required to leave early."
Cleverly done, thought Helena admiringly. There was nothing like the mention of snow to send a ballroom into a complete state of panic; and from the urgent mutterings spreading across the room, it seemed Sir Edmund had succeeded in distracting the guests from the embarrassing scene which had just taken place.
"There is no need for concern," continued Sir Edmund, managing to sound both authoritative and soothing simultaneously. "Any glimpse of so much as a single snowflake and we shall have your carriages prepared without a moment's hesitation. For the time being, however, let us continue to enjoy the festivities – there is a real feast awaiting us just next door. Would you like to follow me?"
He will make a fine Earl of Alverton, thought Helena, as she watched the guests trail obligingly after Sir Edmund into the dining room next door. Though the current Lord Alverton had his reservations about Sir Edmund's inferior social standing, Helena personally couldn't think of anyone better-suited for the responsibility and status.
Alone at last, Helena found her knees crumpling beneath her as she sank to the ballroom floor in a cloud of satin, head in hands. Her fears about Miss Thorpe's unladylike behaviour had not been without reason – though it gave Helena no pleasure to have been right on this occasion.
It just didn't make any sense! Helena's mother had always spoken so highly of the Thorpes – how, then, could they have brought up such an ill-mannered, unladylike daughter?
Her father might have been able to offer some sort of explanation - but Helena did not think Lord Alverton would be wishing to speak with her for quite some time after this evening's events.
Oh, Lord; her father! How on earth could Helena explain this to him? Poor Lord Alverton, consumed with grief, had entrusted Helena with the task of continuing her mother's work, both in keeping Alverton Hall up to its old standards, and in maintaining Lady Alverton's old connexions with the neighbouring families. In the space of one month, Helena had somehow managed to ruin the Rowleys' relationship with the last remaining Thorpe, before standing by idly as Miss Thorpe single-handedly severed their remaining ties with the Cheshire gentry.
All Helena had ever wanted was to be worthy of continuing her mother's legacy; to endeavour to be all that her mother would have desired her to be.
How, then, had she managed to fail so spectacularly?
Just as Helena thought she might positively drown in grief, she felt the tingling of a warm hand placed upon her shoulder. Looking up to see Lord Carningsby stood above her, Helena gave a weak smile as she allowed herself to be helped to her feet – but it faltered instantly as she beheld the cold expression on Lord Carningsby's face.
"I thought we had better have a little chat," he told her, in a flat, expressionless voice which caused Helena's stomach to churn unpleasantly. When Lord Carningsby had been on the verge of proposing a mere half an hour ago, Helena had thought her anxiety to have reached a peak – yet the cold, calculating way Lord Carningsby was currently regarding her filled Helena's very veins with terror. Clearly he was not here to offer kind words of reassurance; the alternative, then, could only be unpleasant.
"As you know," he continued, seemingly oblivious to Helena's distress, "I will be leaving to visit relatives in the south of the country tomorrow, so it is of the utmost importance that I make my wishes known to you before I depart."
Perhaps he still intends to propose, thought Helena – but no sooner had the possibility entered her head than Lord Carningsby well and truly quashed it with his next words.
"Miss Thorpe's behaviour tonight was truly unacceptable," he told Helena solemnly, giving her the impression she was a young girl being lectured by a parent.
Had she the slightest ounce of courage, Helena would have indignantly replied that she was well aware of this – but instead, she remained meekly silent.
"You know how much I admire you, Lady Helena," continued Lord Carningsby, in a slightly softer tone, "but I simply cannot associate myself with someone as common and thoughtless as Miss Thorpe. Therefore, I am placed in a most trying situation."
Helena gulped; she did not at all like how this conversation was going.
"Allow me to make myself quite clear, Lady Helena: it is time for you to make a choice. By the time I return in February, it is my hope that Miss Thorpe will no longer be residing with you at Alverton Hall. Should I find her still here, I shall assume that you have no intention of becoming my wife, and our courtship will be terminated. Is that understood?"
For a fleeting moment, it occurred to Helena that this may be the answer to all her problems. If she didn't send Miss Thorpe away, she could avoid having to marry Lord Carningsby – which meant she would be free to wait for Joseph's return.
But of course, Helena would never rebel in such a way. Her father wanted her to marry Lord Carningsby; she could not disappoint him again after allowing Miss Thorpe to publicly disgrace the family name. No doubt Lord Alverton would be all the more eager for Helena to marry Lord Carningsby after Miss Thorpe's spectacle – he would likely worry that nobody else would have her.
That was the problem – Helena was always trying to please everybody, only to come up short time and again.
Were Helena confident enough to choose her own fate, she would likely have asked Joseph to take her with him when he left for his travels all those months ago. Such a bold idea, however, was laughable in practice – there was no way Helena could ever have plucked up the courage to make such a move.
No, it seemed she was forever fated to live her life under the control of others; be that her father, or her soon-to-be husband, Lord Carningsby. In another life, perhaps things might have been different – but Helena was not one to get caught up in wishful fantasies. This was her reality, and she knew exactly what was expected of her. Hers was the role of compliance; no matter the personal cost.
"Yes, Lord Carningsby," she murmured softly. "I understand."
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A/N: Thank you so much for all your support with this story so far! I'm really enjoying sharing it with you :) If you enjoyed this chapter, please give it a vote or a comment!