An Infamous Army a-3

by Джорджетт Хейер

  "Well, Harriet, if he had looked elsewhere it would not be surprising. You know how much I have always deprecated your giving way to lowness as you do. If you have a particle of sense you will abandon your sofa and your everlasting hartshorn, give up maudling your inside with tea, and go about a little, and forget your delicate situation. There! That is plain speaking, but good advice. Dry your tears, and do not waste another thought on the matter. You must have forgotten that Lady Barbara is betrothed to Charles. How could she possibly flirt with Perry?"

  "There is nothing too base for that creature to do:" Harriet said, roused to a ferocity surprising in one ordinarily so gentle. "I pity Charles Audley! He may be deceived, but I am not."

  "That must be considered an advantage. With your eyes open to a possible danger you may act with tact and prudence."

  "It is very easy for you to talk in that careless way. Your husband has not been stealing away from you to flirt with a fast, unprincipled female!"

  "Come! This is much better," said Judith, with a smile. "If flirtation is all you have to worry about, there can be no occasion for such heat. Lady Bab flirts with everyone, but I believe it to be no more than a fashionable diversion, signifying precisely nothing."

  Harriet burst into tears, and while Judith was endeavouring to give her thoughts a more cheerful direction, Colonel Audley strolled into the room with his nephew on his shoulder. He stopped dead on the threshold when he saw what lay before him, hastily begged pardon, and retreated with all a man's horror of becoming mixed up in a scene of feminine vapours. But before he could make good his escape Judith had called to him to stay.

  "Charles, for goodness' sake come here and tell Harriet what a goose she is!"

  "Oh!" gasped the afflicted lady. "He must not know!"

  "Fiddle!" said Judith. "If the tale is all over town, as you say it is, he will know soon enough. Charles, Harriet has taken a notion into her head that Perry has fallen in love with Lady Barbara, and has been seen pining with her in the suburbs. Now, is there one word of truth in it?"

  "I hope he has not fallen in love with her, but it is quite true that they dined together in the suburbs," replied the Colonel. He set his nephew down, and sent him back to his nurse with a friendly pat. "Off with you, monkey! I am afraid you must blame me, Lady Taverner: it was entirely my fault."

  "Oh no, no!"

  "On the contrary, it is oh yes, yes!" he said, smiling.," The case was, that Bab took a fancy into her head to dine by the roadside at one of those cafes outside the Porte de Namur. I could not escort her, and so Perry became my deputy. That is the whole truth in nutshell."

  "I knew there must be some very ordinary explanation," exclaimed Judith. "Now, Harriet, you can be satisfied, I hope. If Charles sees no harm I am sure you need not."

  But Harriet was far from being satisfied. If the affa:had been innocent, why had Perry kept it a secret?

  "What! did he forget to tell you?" said the Colonz:. exchanging a startled glance with his sister-in-law,"Stupid young rascal! I advise you to take him severely to task: he's a great deal too forgetful!"

  It would not do. Harriet dried her tears, but a score of incidents had been recalled to her mind, and she could not convince herself that Peregrine had not from the outset been attracted by Barbara's wiles. The Colonel's presence made it impossible for her to say that it was all Barbara's fault, which she was sure it was, and so she was silent, allowing Judith to talk, but too busy with her own thoughts to lend more than half an ear to all the sensible things that were being said o her.

  She presently went away, leaving Judith and Audley to look at one another in some consternation.

  "My dear Charles, nothing could be more unfortunate!" Judith said, with a rueful laugh. "I acquit Lady Barbara of wishing to enslave poor Perry, but am afraid there may be a grain of truth in Harriet suspicions. It has sometimes seemed to me that Perry was a trifle smitten with Lady Barbara."

  "Yes, I think he is," admitted the Colonel. "But really, Judith, I believe it to be Harriet's own fault!"

  "Oh, undoubtedly, and so I have told her! It all arose out of that wretched expedition to Hougoumont! I wish I had not meddled!"

  He looked at her with arrested expression in his eyes. he asked. "What occurred at Hougoumont to give rise to this piece of nonsense?"

  The colour rushed into her face. Vexed with herself for having allowed such unguarded words to escape her, she said: "Oh, nothing, nothing! It was only that Hiarriet took a dislike to Lady Barbara!"

  " Indeed! Why should she do that?"

  She found herself unable to meet his gaze with composure, and turned away on the pretext of shaking the sofa cushions. "Oh! You know what a country mouse Harriet is! She has not been in the way of meeting fashionable people, and is easily shocked. Lady Barbara was in one of her capricious moods, and I daresay that may have set Harriet against her."

  "You may as well tell me the truth, Judith. Did Bab's caprice lead her to flirt with Perry, or what?"

  "No, certainly not. Perry was with us the whole time," she said involuntarily.

  "Perry was with you! Where, then, was Bab?"

  "She was with us too, of course. But Harriet and I drove in a barouche, the others rode. I only meant that Perry rode beside us, while Lady Barbara and the Count were not unnaturally tempted to leave the road for the Forest. I am sure they were not to be blamed for that: I should have liked to have done so myself."

  "I see," he replied.

  An uncomfortable silence fell; the Colonel was looking abstractedly out of the window, one hand fiddling with the blindcord. Judith felt herself impelled to say presently: "There was nothing more, I assure you. Do not be imagining anything foolish!"

  He turned and smiled at her. "My dear Judith, you are looking quite anxious! There is really not the least cause, I promise you. As for this affair of Perry's, I shall speak to Bab."

  "Don't if you had rather not!" she said. "I daresay this all nonsense."

  "The scandal, if there is one, had better be scotched. however."

  But Barbara, when she heard of Harriet's suspicions. exclaimed indignantly: "Oh, that's a great deal too bad: Of all the injustices in this wicked world! I treated him as I treat Harry - I did really, Charles!"

  "I don't doubt it," he said. "The truth is, I suspect. that you were much more enchanting than you knew. Is Perry in danger of losing his heart to you, do you think?"

  "I think he might be made to lose it," she replied candidly. "But what a fool his wife must be!"

  "I believe she is in a delicate situation just at present."

  "Oh, poor creature! Very well, I will make everything right with her. Then she may be comfortable again."

  The occasion offered itself that same day. Walking in the Park with a party of friends, Barbara saw Lady Taverner approaching with her sister-in-law. She left her friends, and went forward to meet Harriet, holding a frilled parasol in one hand and extending the other in a friendly fashion. "I have been wanting to meet you, Lady Taverner," she said, with one of her swift smiles.

  "I believe there is a nonsensical story current, and though I have no doubt of your laughing at it, I daresay it may have vexed you a little."

  The hand was ignored. Lady Taverner turned scarlet and, with a glance of contempt, whisked round on her hwwl and walked away.

  Judith, sensible of the generosity that had prompted Barbara to approach Harriet, stood rooted to the ground in dismay. What could possess Harriet to behave with such rudeness? The folly of it passed her comprehension; she could only gaze after her in amazement. The path was full of people; twenty or thirty pairs of eyes must have witnessed the snub. She said in a deeply mortified voice: "I beg your pardon! my sister-in-law is not quite herself. I do not know what she could be thinking of!"

  She glanced at Barbara, and was not surprised to see her green eyes as hard as two bits of glass. A little colour had stolen into her cheeks; her lips were just parted over her clenched teeth. If ever anyone was in a rage she wa
s in one now, thought Judith. She looked ripe for murder, and really one could not blame her.

  "That," said Barbara, "was neither wise nor wellbred Lady Taverner. Convey my compliments to her, if you please, and inform her that I shall endeavour not to disappoint her very evident expectations."

  "She is extremely foolish, and I beg you will not notice her rudeness!" said Judith. "No one regards what you so rightly call the nonsensical story which current."

  "How simple of you to think so! The story must now be implicitly believed. By tomorrow I shall be credited with a sin I haven't committed, which touches my pride, you know. I always give the scandalmongers food for their gossip."

  "To give them food in this case would be to behave-as foolishly as my sister-in-law," said Judith, trying to speak pleasantly.

  "Oh, I have my reputation to consider!" Barbara retorted. "I make trouble wherever I go: haven't you been told so?"

  "I have tried not to believe it."

  "A mistake! I am quite as black as I am painted. I assure you. But I am keeping you from Lady Taverner. Go after her - and don't forget my message!"

  Chapter Fourteen

  Judith did not go after her sister-in-law. She had very little hope of inducing Harriet to apologise, nor, upon reflection, did she feel inclined to make the attempt. She could not think Barbara blameless in the affair. However well she might have behaved in extending an olive branch, the original fault was one for which Judith could find little excuse. If Barbara wanted to dine in the suburbs (which, in itself, was a foolish whim) she might as well have chosen an evening when Charles could have been free to have escorted her.

  Judith acquitted her of wanting to make mischief. It had all been the result of thoughtlessness, and had Harriet behaved like a sensible woman nothing more would have come of it. But Harriet had chosen to do the one thing that would lend colour to whatever gossip was afoot, and had besides made an enemy of a dangerous young woman. It still made Judith blush to think of the scene. In Barbara's place she would, she acknowledged, have been angry enough to have boxed Harriet's ears. But such sudden anger was usually short-lived. She hoped that a period of calm reflection would give Barbara's thoughts a more proper direction, and determined to say nothing of the occurrence Charles.

  She heard her name spoken, and came out of reverie to find herself confronting Lord Fitzroy Somerset, who, with his elder brother, Lord Edward and their nephew, Henry Somerset, was strolling along the path down which her unconscious footsteps had taken her.

  Greetings and handshakes followed. Judith was acquainted with Lord Edward, but Lieutenant Somerset, who was acting as his uncle's aide-de-camp had to be presented to her. Lord Edward had only lately arrived from England, to command the brigade of Household Cavalry. He was twelve years Lord Fitzroy's senior, and did not much resemble him. Fitzroy was fair, with an open brow, and very regular features. Lord Edward was harsh-featured and dark with deep lines running down from the corners of his jutting nose and his close-lipped mouth, and two clefts between his brows. His eyes were rather hard, and he did not look to have that sweetness of disposition which made his brother universally beloved; but he was quite unaffected, laughed and talked a great deal, and seemed perfectly ready to be agreeable. Judith enquirerd after his wife; he had not brought her to the Netherlands; he thought - saving Lady Worth's presence! - that the seat of an approaching war way not the place for females.

  "Your husband is not engaged in the operations, and so the case is different," he said. "But I assure you, the women who would persist in following the Army in Spain were at times a real hindrance to us. Nothing could stop them! Very courageous, you will say, and I won't deny it, but they were the devil to deal with on the march, choking the roads with their gear!"

  She smiled, and agreed that it must have been so. She had turned to retrace her steps with the Somersets, and as the path was not broad enough to allow of their walking abreast, Lord Fitzroy and his nephew had gone ahead. She indicated Fitzroy with a nod, and remarked that his brother must not speak so in his hearing.

  "Oh, Fizroy knows what I think!" replied Lord Edward. "However, he is not an old married man like me, so he must be pardoned. Not but what I think it a great piece of folly on his part. Of course, you know Lady Fitzroy has lately been confined?"

  "Indeed I do, and I am one of her daughter's chief admirers!"

  "I daresay. A nice thing it would have been had she been obliged to remove in a hurry!"

  "Depend upon it, had there been any fear of that her uncle must have known of it, and she could have retired without the least hurry to Antwerp. He does not appear to share your prejudice against us poor females!"

  "The Duke! No, that he does not!" replied Lord Edward, laughing. "But, come, enough of the whole subject, or I can see I shall be quite out of favour with you! I understand I have to congratulate Audley upon his engagement?"

  She acknowledged it, but briefly. He said in his downright way: "I don't know how you may regard the matter, but I should have said Audley was too good man for Bab Childe."

  She found herself so much in accordance with the opinion that she was unable to forbear giving him very speaking glance.

  "Just so," he said, with a nod. "I have known the whole family for years - got one of them in my brigade now: handsome young devil, up to no good - and shouldn't care to be connected with any of them. As for Audley, he's the last man in the world I should havt expected to be caught by Bab's tricks. Great pity though I shouldn't say so to you, I suppose."

  "Lady Barbara is very beautiful," Judith replied, with a certain amount of reserve.

  He gave a somewhat scornful grunt, and said no more. They had reached one of the gates opening on to the Rue Royale at this time, and Lord Edward, who was on his way to Headquarters, took his leave of Judith, and strode off up the road with his nephew.

  Lord Fitzroy gave Judith his arm. He had to pay a call at the Hotel de Belle Vue, and was thus able to accompany her to her door. They walked in that direction through the Park, talking companionably of Lady Fitzroy's progress, of the infant daughter's first airing, and other such mild topics, until presently they were joined by Sir Alexander Gordon, very smart in a new coat and sash, on which Lord Fitzroy immediately quizzed him.

  Judith listened, smiling, to the interchange of friendly raillery, occasionally being appealed to by one of them, to give her support to some outrageous libel on the other.

  "Gordon," Fitzroy informed her, "is one of our dressier colleagues. He has seventeen pairs of boots. That's called upholding the honour of the family."

  "One of Fitzroy's grosser lies, Lady Worth. Now, the really dressy member of the family is Charles."

  "He has the excuse of being a hussar. They can't help being dressy, Lady Worth. However, the strain of trying to procure a sufficiency of silver lace in Spain wore the poor fellow out, and in the end he was quite thankful to be taken into the family. I say, Gordon, why didn't you join a hussar regiment? Was it because you were too fat?"

  "A dignified silence," Gordon told Judith, "is the only weapon to use against vulgar persons."

  "Very true. It is all jealousy, I daresay. I feel sure you could set off a hussar uniform to admiration."

  "Fill it out, don't you mean?" enquired Fitzroy.

  Sir Alexander was diverted from his purpose of retaliating in kind by catching sight of Barbara Childe between two riflemen. "When does that marriage take place, Lady Worth?" he asked.

  "The date is not fixed."

  "There's hope yet, then. That's Johnny Kincaid with her - the tall lanky one on her right. Perhaps he'll cut Charles out. Very charming fellow, Kincaid."

  Fitzroy shook his head. "No chance of that. Kincaid loves Juana Smith - or so I've always fancied."

  Judith said: "Is that how you feel, Sir Alexander? About Charles's engagement, I mean?"

  "I beg pardon! I shouldn't have said it."

  "You may say what you please. I am forced in general to be very discreet, but you are both such part
icular friends of Charles's that I may be allowed to speak my mind - which is that it would be better if the marriage never took place."

  "Of course it would be better! There was never anything more unfortunate! We laughed at Charley when it began, but it has turned out to be no laughing matter. It was all the Prince's fault for making the introduction in the first place."

  "Nonsense, Gordon! If he had not someone else would have done it. I am afraid Charles is pretty hard hit, Lady Worth."

  "I am afraid so, too. I wish he were not, but what can one do?"

  "One can't do anything," said Gordon. "That's the sad part of it: to be obliged to watch one of your best friends making a fool of himself."

  "Do you dislike Lady Barbara?"

  "No. I like her, but the thing is that I like Charley much more, and I can't see him tied to her for the rest of his life."

  "It may yet come to nothing."

  "That's what I say, but Fitzroy will have it that if Babs throws him over it will be the end of him."

  "No, I didn't say that," interposed Lord Fitzroy. "But you can't live with a man for as long as I've lived with Charles, and come through tight places with him, and work with him, day in, day out, without getting to know him pretty well, and I do say that I believe him to be in earnest over this. I expect he knows his own business best - only I do wish he would stop burning the candle at both ends!"

  "He can't," said Gordon. "You have to run fast if you mean to keep pace with Bab."

  They had reached the Rue du Belle Vue by this time, and no more was said. Lord Fitzroy took his leave, Sir Alexander escorted Lady Worth to her own door, and she went in, feeling despondent and quite out of spirits.

  The Duchess of Richmond held an informal party that evening, at her house off the Rue de la Blanchisserie, which was situated in the northern quarter of the town, not far from the Allee Verte. The Duke of Wellington had, from its locality, irreverently named it the Wash-house, but it was, in fact, a charming abode, placed in a large garden extending to the ramparts, and with a smaller house, or cottage, in the grounds which was occupied, whenever he was in Brussels, by Lord March.