The smile had quite faded from his face; his horse leapt suddenly under a spur driven cruelly home: ‘Ah, parbleu, you are serious then!’ he exclaimed. ‘You are lovesick—besotted! I wish you a speedy recovery, ma belle!’
Ten
Judith saw nothing of Barbara on the following day, but heard of her having gone to a fête at Enghien, given by the Guards. She was present in the evening at a small party at Lady John Somerset’s, surrounded by her usual court, and had nothing more than a nod and a wave of the hand to bestow upon Judith. The Comte de Lavisse had returned to his cantonments, but his place seemed to be admirably filled by Prince Pierre d’Aremberg, whose attentions, though possibly not serious, were extremely marked.
If Barbara missed Colonel Audley during the five days of his absence, she gave no sign of it. She seemed to plunge into a whirl of enjoyment; flitted from party to party; put in an appearance at the Opera; left before the end to attend a ball; danced into the small hours; rode out before breakfast with a party of younger officers; was off directly after to go to the races at Grammont; reappeared in Brussels in time to grace her sister-in-law’s soirée; and enchanted the company by singing O Lady, twine no wreath for me, which had just been sent to her from London, along with a setting of Lord Byron’s famous lyric, Farewell, Farewell!
‘How can she do it?’ marvelled the Lennox girls. ‘We should be dead with fatigue!’
On April 20th Brussels was fluttered by the arrival of a celebrated personage, none other than Madame Catalani, a cantatrice who had charmed all Europe with her trills and her quavers. Accompanied by her husband, M. de Valbrèque, she descended upon Brussels for the purpose of consenting graciously (and for quite extortionate fees) to sing at a few select parties.
On the same evening Wellington drove into Brussels with his suite, and Colonel Audley, instead of ending a long day by drinking tea quietly at home and going to bed, arrayed himself in his dress uniform and went off to put in a tardy appearance at Sir Charles Stuart’s evening party. He found his betrothed in an alcove, having each finger kissed by an adoring young Belgian, and waited perfectly patiently for this ceremony to come to an end. But Barbara saw him before her admirer had got beyond the fourth finger, and pulled her hands away, not in any confusion, but merely to hold them out to the Colonel. ‘Oh, Charles! You have come back!’ she cried gladly.
The Belgian, very red in the face, and inwardly quaking, stayed just enough for Colonel Audley to challenge him to a duel if he wished to, but when he found that the Colonel was really paying no attention to him, he discreetly withdrew, thanking his gods that the English were a phlegmatic race.
The Colonel took both Barbara’s hands in his. Mischief gleamed in her eyes. She said: ‘Would you like to finish René’s work, dear Charles?’
‘No, not at all,’ he answered, drawing her closer.
She held up her face. ‘Very well! Oh, but I am glad to see you again!’
They sat down together on a small sofa. ‘You did not appear to be missing me very much!’ said the Colonel.
‘Don’t be stupid! Tell me what you have been doing!’
‘There’s nothing to tell. What have you been doing? Or daren’t you tell me?’
‘That’s impertinent. I have been forgetting Charles in a whirl of gaiety.’
‘Faithless one!’
‘I have been to the Races, and was quite out of luck; I went to the Opera, but it was Gluck and detestable; I have danced endless waltzes and cotillions, but no one could dance as well as you; and I went to a macao party, and was dipped; to Enghien, and was kissed—’
‘What?’
He had been listening with a smile in his eyes, but this vanished, and he interrupted with enough sharpness in his voice to arrest her attention and make her put up her chin a little.
‘Well?’
‘Did you mean that?’
‘What, that I was kissed at Enghien? My dear Charles!’
‘It’s no answer to say “My dear Charles,” Bab.’
‘But can you doubt it? Don’t you think I am very kissable?’
‘I do, but I prefer that others should not.’
‘Oh no! how dull that would be!’ she said, sparkling with laughter.
‘Don’t you agree that there is something a trifle vulgar in permitting Tom, Dick, and Harry to kiss you?’
‘That’s to say I’m vulgar, Charles. Am I, do you think?’
‘The wonder is that you are not.’
‘The wonder?’
‘Yes, since you do vulgar things.’
She flushed, and looking directly into his eyes, said: ‘You are not wise to talk like that to me, my friend.’
‘My dear, did you suppose I should be so complaisant as to allow other men to kiss you? What an odd notion you must have of me!’
‘I warned you I should flirt.’
‘And I warned you it would only be with me. To be plain with you, I expect you not to kiss any but myself.’
‘Tom, Dick, and Harry!’ she flashed, betraying a wound.
‘Yes—or, for instance, the Comte de Lavisse.’
There was an edge to the words; she glanced swiftly at him, understanding all at once that he was actuated as much by jealousy as by prudery. The anger left her face; she exclaimed: ‘Charles! Dear fool! You’re quite out: it wasn’t Etienne!’
He said ruefully: ‘Wasn’t it? Yes, I did think so.’
‘And were longing to call him out!’
‘Nothing so romantic. Merely to plant him a facer.’
She was amused. ‘What the devil’s that?’
‘Boxing cant. Forget it! If you were to add that to your vocabulary it would be beyond everything!’
‘Oh, but I know a deal of boxing cant! My brother George is much addicted to the Fancy—himself displays to advantage, so I’m told! No shifting, not at all shy; in fact rattles in full of gaiety!’
‘Bab, you incorrigible hussy!’
Their disagreement was forgotten; she began to talk to him of George, who was already on his passage to the Netherlands.
It was evident that George, a year older than his sister, was very near her heart. Colonel Audley was barely acquainted with him, but no one who had once met Lord George could fail to recognise him again. When he arrived in Brussels some days later it was from Liedekerke, in the vicinity of Ninove, where he was quartered. He rode into Brussels with the intention of surprising his family at dinner, but happening to encounter a friend on his way up the Montagne de la Cour, went off instead to join a riotous party at the Hôtel d’Angleterre. When he presented himself in the Rue Ducale some hours later it was to learn from the butler that Lord and Lady Vidal were at the Opera, and his sister at a soirée.
‘Well, I won’t go to the Opera, that’s certain,’ said his lordship. ‘What’s this soirée you talk of?’
‘I understand, my lord, a gathering of polite persons, with a little music, a—’
‘Sounds devilish,’ remarked his lordship. ‘Who’s holding it?’
‘Lord and Lady Worth, my lord.’
‘Lady Worth, eh?’ His lordship pricked up his ears. ‘Oh! Ah! I’ll go there. Won’t throw me out, will they?’
The butler looked horrified. ‘Throw you out, my lord?’
‘Haven’t been invited: don’t know the Worths,” explained George. ‘I’ll risk it. Where do they live?’
Judith’s salons were crowded when he arrived, and since the evening was too far advanced for her to expect any more guests, she had left her station by the door and was standing at the other end of the long room, talking to two Belgian ladies. The footman’s voice, announcing Lord George, was not audible above the clatter of conversation, and Judith remained unaware of his entrance until Madame van der Capellan directed her attention towards him, desiring to know who ce beau géant might be.
She turned her head, and saw his lordship standing on the threshold, looking round him with an air of perfect sangfroid. A handsome giant was a description which exactl
y hit him off. He stood over six foot, in all the magnificence of a Life Guardsman’s dress uniform. He was a blaze of scarlet and gold; a very dark young man with curling black hair, and dashing whiskers, gleaming white teeth, and a pair of bold, fiery eyes.
‘It is Lord George Alastair,’ said Judith. She moved towards him, by no means pleased at the advent of this uninvited guest.
He came at once to meet her. His bow was perfection: the look that went with it was that of a schoolboy detected in crime. ‘Lady Worth?’
‘Yes,’ she acknowledged. ‘You—!’
‘I know! I know! You’re not acquainted with me—don’t know me from Adam—wonder how the deuce I got in!’
She was obliged to smile. ‘Indeed, I do know you. You are Lord George Alastair.’
‘Oh, come now, that’s famous! I daresay you won’t have me thrown out after all.’
‘I am sure it would be a very difficult task,’ she said. ‘You have come in search of your sister, I expect? She is here, and your brother too. I think they must both be in the farther salon. Shall we go and find them?’
‘Devilish good of you, Lady Worth. But don’t put yourself out on my account: I’ll find ’em.’
She saw that he was looking beyond her, at someone at the other end of the room. She glanced in the same direction, and discovered that the object of his gaze was none other than Miss Devenish. It was plain that Lucy was aware of being stared at; she was blushing uncomfortably, and had cast down her eyes.
‘I will show you the way to your sister,’ said Judith firmly.
‘Thank you—in a moment!’ said his lordship, with cool impudence. ‘I have seen a lady I know. Must pay my respects!’
He left her side as he spoke, and bore ruthlessly down upon Miss Devenish. She was seated on a sofa, and cast such a scared look up at George that Judith felt impelled to go to her rescue. George was towering over her—enough to frighten any girl! thought Judith indignantly—and Lucy had half risen from the sofa, and then sunk back again.
By the time Judith, delayed by Mr Creevey in the middle of the room, reached her, George had not only shaken hands, but had seated himself beside her. His eyes were fixed on her downcast face with an ardent expression Judith much disliked, and a teasing smile, as impish as his sister’s, curled his lips. When Judith came up he rose. ‘I am recalling myself to Miss Devenish’s memory,’ he said. ‘It’s my belief she had forgotten me.’
‘I was not aware that you were acquainted with Lord George, my dear?’ Judith said, a question in her voice.
‘Oh!’ faltered Lucy. ‘We met once—at a ball!’
‘If that is all, it is no wonder that you were forgotten, Lord George!’ Judith said.
‘All! No such thing! Miss Devenish, can you look me in the face and say we met only once, at a ball?’
She did look him in the face, but with such an expression of reproach in her eyes as must have abashed any but an Alastair. She replied in a low voice, and with a good deal of dignity: ‘It is true that we have several times met: I do not forget it.’
She got up as she spoke, and with a slight inclination of her head moved away to where her aunt was seated. Lord George looked after her for a moment, and then turned to his hostess, saying briskly: ‘Where’s Bab? In the other salon? I’ll go and find her. Now, don’t bother your head about me, Lady Worth, I beg! I shall do very well.’
She was perfectly willing to let him go, and with a nod and a smile he was off, making his way across the crowded room through the double doors leading into the farther salon. These had been thrown open, and as he approached them George saw his brother Harry standing between them in conversation with Lord Hay. He waved casually, but Harry, as soon as he caught sight of him, left Hay and surged forward.
‘Hallo, George! When did you arrive? Where are you quartered? I am devilish glad to see you!’
George answered these questions rather in a manner of a man receiving a welcome of a boisterous puppy; twitted Harry on the glory of his brand-new regimentals; and demanded: ‘Where’s Bab?’
‘Oh, with Audley somewhere, I daresay! But what a hand you are, not to have written to tell us you were coming!’
‘Who’s Audley?’ interrupted George, looking over the heads of several people in an attempt to see his sister.
‘Why, Worth’s brother, to be sure! Lord, don’t you know? Bab’s going to marry him—or so she says.’
This piece of intelligence seemed to amuse George. ‘Poor devil! No, I didn’t know. New, is it?’
‘Oh, they’ve been engaged for a fortnight or more! Look, there they both are!’
A moment later Barbara was startled by an arm being put familiarly round her waist. ‘Hallo, Bab, my girl!’ said his lordship.
She turned quickly in his embrace, an exclamation on her lips. ‘George! You wretch, to creep up behind me like that!’
He kissed her cheek, and continued to hold her round the waist. ‘What’s all this I hear about your engagement?’ He glanced at Colonel Audley, and held out his free hand. ‘You’re Audley, aren’t you? How d’ye do? Think we’ve met before, but can’t recall where. What the devil do you mean by getting engaged to my sister? You’ll regret it, you know!’
‘But you must see that I can’t, in honour, draw back now,’ returned the Colonel, shaking hands. ‘When did you arrive? At Liedekerke, aren’t you? We’re deuced glad to see you fellows, I can tell. How strong are you?’
‘Two squadrons. What are these Dutchmen like, hey? Saw some of them on our way up from Ostend. They’re not so badly mounted, but they can’t ride.’
‘That’s the trouble,’ admitted the Colonel. ‘A great many of them are shocking bad riders. You know we are not getting Combermere to command the cavalry after all? The Horse Guards are sending Lord Uxbridge out to us.’
‘Oh, he’s a good fellow! You’ll like him. But you’ve served under him, of course. You were with Moore, weren’t you? I say, Audley, you Peninsular fellows have the advantage of us—and by Jove, don’t you mean to let us know it! A damned rifleman I met tonight called my lot Hyde Park soldiers!’
‘So you knocked him down, and poor Vidal will be faced with another scandal!’ remarked Barbara.
‘No, I didn’t. Fellow was my host. But when it comes to fighting we’ll show you what Hyde Park soldiers can do!’
Barbara, who was tired of a purely military conversation, changed the subject by asking him how her grandfather did. He confessed that he had not seen that irascible gentleman quite lately, but thought—from the energetic tone of his correspondence—that he was enjoying his customary vigorous health.
‘In debt again?’ asked Barbara. ‘Would he not come to the rescue?’
‘Oh lord, no! Wrote that he’d see me to the devil first!’ replied George. ‘But I daresay if I come out of this little war alive he’ll pay up.’
‘Return of a hero?’ enquired the Colonel. ‘You’d better get wounded.’
‘Devilish good notion,’ agreed his lordship. ‘Of course if I’m killed it won’t matter to me how many debts I’ve got. Either way I’m bound to win. What are the Prussians like, Audley?’
‘I haven’t seen much of them, so far. Old Blücher has arrived at Liége, and says he can put 80,000 men in the field. Some of them pretty raw, of course—like our own.’
‘Queer old boy, Blücher,’ remarked George. ‘Saw him last year, when he was in London with the Emperors and all that crowd. Seemed to take very well—people used to cheer him whenever he showed his face out of doors.’
Lady Barbara moved away; Lord George wandered off, and presently discovered Miss Devenish again. He apparently prevailed upon her to present him to her aunt, for when Judith caught sight of him an hour later he was sitting beside Mrs Fisher, making himself agreeable. Judith could see that Mrs Fisher was pleased with him, and hoped that she would not allow herself to be carried away by a title and a handsome face. She had little dependence, however, on that amiable lady’s judgment, and was not much s
urprised to see her beckon to her niece to come and join in her chat with Lord George. Miss Devenish obeyed the summons, but reluctantly. Lord George jumped up as she approached, and in a few minutes succeeded in detaching her from her aunt and bearing her off in the direction of the parlour, where the refreshments were laid out.
It was not until the end of the evening, when her guests were beginning to disperse, that Judith found an opportunity to speak to Lucy. She said then: ‘I hope Lord George did not tease you? He is rather a bold young man, I am afraid.’
Lucy coloured, but replied quietly: ‘Oh no! I knew him before, in England.’
‘Yes, so you told me. I was surprised: I don’t think you ever mentioned the circumstance to me?’
There was a little hesitation, a faltering for words. ‘I daresay I might not. The occasion did not arise, our acquaintance was not of such a nature—’
‘My dear, why should you? I implied no blame! But I was sorry to see him single you out with such particularity. I could see you were a little discomposed, and did not wonder at it. His manners are a great deal too familiar.’
Miss Devenish opened and shut her fan once or twice, and replied: ‘I was discomposed, I own. The surprise of seeing him here—and his singling me out, as you describe, put me out of countenance.’
‘The attentions of men of his type are apt to be very disagreeable,’ said Judith. ‘Happily, the violent fancies they take do not last long. I believe Lord George to be a shocking flirt. You, however, have too much common sense to take him seriously.’
‘Oh yes! That is, I know what people say of him. Forgive me, but there are circumstances which make it painful for me to discuss—but it is not in my power to explain.’
‘Why, Lucy, what is this?’ Judith exclaimed. ‘I had not thought your acquaintance to be more than a chance meeting at a ball!’
An Infamous Army Page 15
