‘I don’t care,’ replied Barbara indifferently. ‘No, I think I like it.’
‘You’re shameless! Who told you this?’
‘Harry.’
‘I might have known it! Pretty news to recount to his sister!’
‘Oh lord, why shouldn’t he?’ said Lady Vidal. ‘You’ll be a bigger fool than I take you for, Bab, if you let Lavisse slip through your fingers.’
‘I don’t let them slip,’ retorted Barbara. ‘I drop them. I daresay I shall drop him too.’
‘Be careful he doesn’t drop you!’ said her ladyship.
The carriage had drawn up before one of the large houses in the Rue Ducale, facing the Park. As the footman opened the door, Barbara murmured: ‘Oh no, do you think he will? That would be interesting.’
Her sister-in-law forbore to answer this, but, alighting from the carriage, passed into the house. Barbara followed her, but paused only to say goodnight before picking up her candle and going upstairs to her bedroom.
She had not, however, seen the last of Lady Vidal, who came tapping on her door half an hour later, and entered with the air of one who proposed to remain some while. Barbara was seated before the mirror, her flaming head rising out of the foam of sea-green gauze which constituted her dressing-gown. ‘Oh, what the deuce, Gussie?’ she said.
‘Send your girl away: I want to talk to you,’ commanded Augusta, settling herself in the most comfortable chair in the room.
Barbara gave an impatient sigh, but obeyed. As the door closed behind the maid, she said: ‘Well, what is it? Are you going to urge me to marry Etienne? I wish you may not put yourself to so much trouble.’
‘You might do worse,’ said Augusta.
‘To be sure I might. We are agreed, then.’
‘You known, you should be thinking seriously of marriage. You’re twenty-five, my dear.’
‘Ah, marriage is a bore!’
‘If you mean husbands are bores, I’m sure I heartily agree with you,’ responded Augusta. ‘They have to be endured for the sake of the blessings attached to them. Single, one has neither standing nor consequence.’
‘I’ll tell you what, Gussie: the best is to be a widow—a dashing widow!’
‘So you may think while you still possess pretensions to beauty. No longer, I assure you. As for “dashing,” that brings me to another thing I had to say. I believe I’m no prude, but those gilded toenails of yours are the outside of enough, Bab.’
Barbara lifted a fold of the gauze to observe her bare feet. ‘Pretty, aren’t they?’
‘Vidal informs me he has seen none but French women (and those of a certain class) with painted nails.’
‘Oh, famous!’
Barbara seemed to be so genuinely delighted by this piece of news that Lady Vidal thought it wiser to leave the subject. ‘That’s as may be. What is more important is what you mean to do with your future. If you take my advice, you’ll marry Lavisse.’
‘No, he would be the devil of a husband.’
‘And you the devil of a wife, my dear.’
‘True. I will live and die a widow.’
‘Pray don’t talk such stuff to me!’ said Augusta tartly. ‘If you let slip all opportunities of getting a husband I shall think you are a great fool.’
Barbara laughed, and getting up from the stool before her dressing table, strolled across the room to a small cupboard and opened it. ‘Very well! Let us look about us! Shall I set my cap at dear Gordon? I could fancy him, I believe.’
‘Sir Alexander? Don’t be absurd! A boy!’
Barbara had taken a medicine bottle from the cupboard and was measuring some of its contents into a glass. She paused, and wrinkled her brow. ‘General Maitland? That would be suitable: he is a widower.’
‘He is as good as promised to Sarah Lennox.’
‘That’s no objection—if I want him. No, I don’t think I do. I’ll tell you what, Gussie, I’ll have the Adjutant-General!’
‘Good God, that would not last long! They call him the Fire-eater. You would be for ever quarrelling. I wish you would be serious! You need not marry a soldier, after all.’
‘Yes, yes, if I marry it must be a soldier. I am quite determined. The Army is all the rage. And when have I ever been behind the mode? Consider, too, the range of possibilities! Only think of the Guards positively massed in the neighbourhood. I have only to drive to Enghien to find an eligible parti. The cavalry, too! All the Household Troops are under orders to sail, and I had always a liking for a well set-up Life Guardsman.’
‘That means we shall have George here, I suppose,’ said Augusta, without any appearance of gratification.
‘Yes, but never mind that! What do you say to a gallant hussar? The 10th are coming out and they wear such charming clothes! I have had a riding dress made à la hussar, in the palest green, all frogged and laced with silver. Ravishing!’
‘You will set the town by the ears!’
‘Who cares?’
‘You may not, but it is not very agreeable for us. I wish you would consider me a little before you put Vidal out of temper.’
Barbara came back into the middle of the room, holding the glass containing her potion. ‘Where’s the use? If I don’t, George will. Vidal is such a dull dog!’
Augusta gave a laugh. ‘I had rather have him than George, at all events. What are you taking there?’
‘Only my laudanum drops,’ replied Barbara, tossing off the mixture.
‘Well, I take them myself, but I have the excuse of nervous headaches. You never had such a thing in your life. If you would be less restless—’
‘Well, I won’t, I can’t! This is nothing: it helps me to sleep. Who was the demure lass dancing with Harry? She came with Lady Worth, I think.’
‘Oh, that chit! She’s of no account; I can’t conceive what should possess Lady Worth to take her under her wing. There is an uncle, or some such thing. A very vulgar person, connected with Trade. Of course, if Harry is to lose his head in that direction it will be only what one might have expected, but I must say I think we might be spared that at least. I can tell you this, if you and your brothers create any odious scandals, Vidal will insist on returning to England. He is of two minds now.’
‘Why? Is he afraid of me, or only of Boney?’
‘Both, I daresay. I have no notion of staying here if Bonaparte does march on Brussels, as they all say he will. And if I go you must also.’
Barbara shed her sea-green wrap and got into bed. The light of the candles beside her had the effect of making her eyes and hair glow vividly. ‘Don’t think it! I shall stay. A war will be exciting. I like that!’
‘You can scarcely remain alone in Brussels!’
Barbara snuggled down among a superfluity of pillows. ‘Who lives will see!
‘I should not care to do so in your situation.’
A gleam shot into the half-closed eyes; they looked sideways at Augusta. ‘Dearest Gussie! So respectable!’ Barbara murmured.
Three
Lady Worth walked into her breakfast-parlour on the morning of April 5th, to find that she was not, as she had supposed, the first to enter it. A cocked hat had been tossed on to a chair, and a gentleman in the white net pantaloons and blue frock-coat of a staff officer was sitting on the floor, busily engaged in making paper boats for Lord Temperley. Lord Temperley was standing beside him, a stern frown on his countenance betokening the rapt interest of a young gentleman just two years old.
‘Well!’ cried Judith.
The staff officer looked quick up, and jumped to his feet. He was a man in the mid-thirties, with smiling grey eyes, and a mobile, well-shaped mouth.
Lady Worth seized him by both hands. ‘My dear Charles! of all the delightful surprises! But when did you arrive? How pleased I am to see you! Have you breakfasted? Where is your baggage?’
Colonel Audley responded to this welcome by putting an arm round his sister-in-law’s waist and kissing her cheek. ‘No need to ask you how you do: you look fa
mous! I got in last night, too late to knock you up.’
‘How can you be so absurd? Don’t tell me you put up at an hôtel!’
‘No, at the Duke’s.’
‘He is here too? Really in Brussels at last?’
‘Why certainly! We are all of us here—the Duke, Fremantle, young Lennox, and your humble servant.’ A tug at his sash recalled his attention to his nephew. ‘Sir! I beg pardon! The boat—of course!’
The boat was soon finished, and put into his lordship’s fat little hand. Prompted by his Mama, he uttered a laconic word of thanks, and was borne off by his nurse.
Colonel Audley readjusted his sash. ‘I must tell you that I find my nephew improved out of all recognition, Judith. When I last had the pleasure of meeting him, he covered me with confusion by bursting into a howl of dismay. But nothing could have been more gentlemanlike than his reception of me today.’
She smiled. ‘I hope it may be true. He is not always so, I confess. To my mind he is excessively like his father in his dislike of strangers. Worth, of course, would have you believe quite otherwise. Sit down, and let me give you some coffee. Have you seen Worth yet?’
‘Not a sign of him. Tell me all the news! What has been happening here? How do you go on?’
‘But my dear Charles, I have no news! It is to you that we look for that. Don’t you know that for weeks past we have been positively hanging upon your arrival, eagerly searching your wretchedly brief letters for the least grain of interesting intelligence?’
He looked surprised, and a little amused. ‘What in the world would you have me tell you? I had thought the deliberations of the Congress were pretty well known.’
‘Charles!’ said her ladyship, in a despairing voice, ‘you have been at the very hub of the world, surrounded by Emperors and Statesmen, and you ask me what I would have you tell me!’
‘Oh, I can tell you a deal about the Emperors,’ offered the Colonel. ‘Alexander, now, is—let us say—a trifle difficult.’
He was interrupted. ‘Tell me immediately what you have been doing!’ commanded Judith.
‘Dancing,’ he replied.
‘Dancing!’
‘And dining.’
‘You are most provoking. Are you pledged to secrecy? If so, of course I won’t ask you any awkward questions.’
‘Not in the least,’ said the Colonel cheerfully. ‘Life in Vienna was one long ball. I have been devoting a great part of my time to the quadrille. L’Eté, la Poule, la grande ronde—I have all the steps, I assure you.’
‘You must be a very odd sort of an aide-de-camp!’ she remarked. ‘Does not the Duke object?’
‘Object?’ said the Colonel. ‘Of course not! He likes it. William Lennox would tell you that the excellence of his pas de zéphyr is the only thing that has more than once saved him from reprimand.’
‘But seriously, Charles—?’
‘On my honour!’
She was quite dumbfounded by this unexpected light cast upon the proceedings at Vienna, but before she could express her astonishment her husband came into the room, and the subject was forgotten in the greeting between the brothers, and the exchange of questions.
‘You have been travelling fast,’ the Earl said, as he presently took his seat at the table. ‘Stuart spoke of the Duke’s still being in Vienna only the other day.’
‘Yes, shockingly fast. We even had to stop for lard to grease the wheels. But with such a shriek going up for the Beau from here, what did you expect?’ said the Colonel, with a twinkle. ‘Anyone would imagine Boney to be only a day’s march off from the noise you have been making.’
The Earl smiled, but merely said: ‘Are you rejoining the Regiment, or do you remain on the Staff?’
‘Oh, all of us old hands remain, except perhaps March, who will probably stay with the Prince of Orange. Lennox goes back to his regiment, of course. He is only a youngster, and the Beau wants his old officers with him. What about my horses, Worth? You had my letter?’
‘Yes, and wrote immediately to England. Jackson has procured you three good hunters, and there is a bay mare I bought for you last week.’
‘Good!’ said the Colonel. ‘I shall probably get forage allowance for four horses. Tell me how you have been going on here! Who’s this fellow, Hudson Lowe, who knows all there is to be known about handling armies?’
‘Oh, you’ve seen him already, have you? I suppose you know he is your Quartermaster-General? Whether he will deal with the Duke is a question yet to be decided.’
‘My dear fellow, it was decided within five minutes of his presenting himself this morning,’ said the Colonel, passing his cup and saucer to Lady Worth. ‘I left him instructing the Beau, and talking about his experience. Old Hookey as stiff as a poker, and glaring at him, with one of his crashing snubs just ripe to be delivered. I slipped away. Fremantle’s on duty, poor devil!’
‘Crashing snubs? Is the Duke a bad-tempered man?’ enquired Judith. ‘That must be a sad blow to us all!’
‘Oh no, I wouldn’t call him bad-tempered!’ replied the Colonel. ‘He gets peevish, you know—a trifle crusty, when things don’t go just as he wishes. I wish they may get Murray back from America in time to take this fellow Lowe’s place: we can’t have him putting old Hookey out every day of the week: comes too hard on the wretched staff.’
Judith gave him back his cup and saucer. ‘But, Charles, this is shocking! You depict a cross, querulous person, and we have been expecting a demi-god.’
‘Demi-god! Well, so he is, the instant he goes into action,’ said the Colonel. He drank his coffee, and said, ‘Who is here, Worth? Any troops arrived yet from England?’
‘Very few. We have really only the remains of Graham’s detachment still, the same that Orange has had under his command the whole winter. There are the 1st Guards, the Coldstream, and the 3rd Scots; all 2nd battalions. The 52nd is here, a part of the 95th—but you must know the regiments as well as I do! There’s no English cavalry at all, only that of the German Legion.’
The Colonel nodded. ‘They’ll come.’
‘Under Combermere?’
‘Oh, surely! We can’t do without old Stapleton Cotton’s long face among us. But tell me! who are all these schoolboys on the staff, and where did they spring from? Scarcely a name one knows on the Quartermaster-General’s staff, or the Adjutant-General’s either, for that matter!’
‘I thought myself there were a number of remarkably inexperienced young gentlemen calling themselves Deputy-Assistants—but when the Duke takes a lad of fifteen into his family one is left to suppose he likes a staff just out of the nursery. By the by, I suppose you know you have arrived in time to assist at festivities at the Hôtel de Ville tonight? There’s to be a fête in honour of the King and Queen of the Netherlands. Does the Duke go?’
‘Oh yes, we always go to fêtes!’ replied the Colonel. ‘What is it to be? Dancing, supper—the usual thing? That reminds me: I must have some new boots. Is there anyone in the town who can be trusted to make me a pair of hessians?’
This question led to a discussion of the shops in Brussels, and the more pressing needs of an officer on the Duke of Wellington’s staff. These seemed to consist mostly of articles of wearing apparel suitable for galas, and Lady Worth was left presently to reflect on the incomprehensibility of the male sex, which, upon the eve of war, was apparently concerned solely with the price of silver lace, and the cut of a hessian boot.
The Colonel had declared his dress clothes to be worn to rags, but when he presented himself in readiness to set forth to the Hôtel de Ville that evening his sister-in-law had no fault to find with his appearance beyond regretting, with a sigh, that his present occupation made the wearing of his hussar uniform ineligible. Nothing could have been better than the set of his coat across his shoulders, nothing more resplendent than his fringed sash, nothing more effulgent than his hessians with their swinging tassels. The Colonel was blessed with a good leg, and had nothing to fear from sheathing it in a skin-tigh
t net pantaloon. His curling brown locks had been brushed into a state of pleasing disorder, known as the style au coup de vent; his whiskers were neatly trimmed; he carried his cocked hat under one arm; and altogether presented to his sister-in-law’s critical gaze a very handsome picture.
That he was quite unaware of it naturally did not detract from his charm. Judith, observing him with a little complacency, decided that if Miss Devenish failed to succumb to the twinkle in the Colonel’s open grey eyes, or to the attraction of his easy, frank manners, she must be hard indeed to please.
Miss Devenish would be present this evening, Judith having been at considerable pains to procure invitation tickets for her and for Mrs Fisher.
The Earl of Worth’s small party arrived at the Hôtel de Ville shortly after eight o’clock, to find a long line of carriages setting down their burdens one after another, and the interior of the building already teeming with guests. The ante-rooms were crowded, and (said Colonel Audley) as hot as any in Vienna; and her ladyship, having had her train of lilac crape twice trodden on, was very glad to pass into the ballroom. Here matters were a little better, the room being of huge proportions. Down one side of it were tall windows, with statues on pedestals set in each, while on the opposite side were corresponding embrasures, each one curtained, and emblazoned with the letter W in a scroll.
A great many of the guests were of Belgian or of Dutch nationality, but Lady Worth soon discovered English acquaintances among them, and was presently busy presenting Colonel Audley to those who had not yet met him, or recalling him to the remembrances of those who had. She did not perceive Miss Devenish in the room, but since she had taken up a position near the main entrance, she had little doubt of observing her arrival. Meanwhile, Colonel Audley remained beside her, and might have continued shaking hands, greeting old friends, and being made known to smiling strangers for any length of time, had not an interruption occurred which immediately attracted the attention of everyone present.
A pronounced stir was taking place in the ante-room; a loud, whooping laugh was heard, and the next moment a well-made gentleman in a plain evening dress embellished with a number of Orders walked into the ballroom, escorted by the Mayor of Brussels, and a suite composed of senior officers in various glittering dress uniforms. The ribbon of the Garter relieved the severity of the gentleman’s dress, but except for his carriage there was little to proclaim the military man. Beside the gilded splendour of a German Hussar, and the scarlet brilliance of an English Guardsman, he looked almost out of place. He had rather sparse mouse-coloured hair, a little grizzled at the temples; a mouth pursed slightly in repose, but just now open in laughter; and a pair of chilly blue eyes set under strongly marked brows. The eyes must have immediately attracted attention had this not been inevitably claimed by his incredible nose. That high-bridged bony feature dominated his face and made it at once remarkable. It lent majesty to the countenance and terror to its owner’s frown. It was a proud, masterful nose, the nose of one who would brook no interference, and permit few liberties. It was also a famous nose, and anyone beholding it would have had to be very dull-witted not to have realised at once that it belonged to the Duke of Wellington.