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 quickly 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 famous! 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 hotel!"
"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 —Vienna was one long ball. I have been devoting a neat part of my time to the quadrille. L'Ete, la Poule, : grande ronde - I have all the steps, I assure you."
"You must be a very odd sort of an aide-de-camp!" I:le remarked. "Does not the Duke object?"
"Object?" said the Colonel. "Of course not! He likes William Lennox would tell you that the excellence of pas de zephyr 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 Vou 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 was 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 Hotel de Ville tonight? There's to be a fete in honour of the King and Queen of the Netherlands. Does the Duke go?"
"Oh yes, we always go to fetes!" 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 Hotel 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-tight 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 Hotel 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.
Lady Worth grasped its significance, but could scarcely believe that quite the most soberly-dressed gentleman in the room (if you let out of account that casual sprinkling of Orders) could really be the field-Marshal himself. Even Lord Hill, at his elbow, was more resplendent, while any Cornet of Hussars would have cast him in the shade.
That was Lady Worth's first impression, but a second, following it swiftly, at once corrected it. The Duke had no need of silver lace or a scarlet-and-gold coat to attract the eye. He had a presence which made itself felt the instant he entered the room. He stood surrounded by his general staff, and they became no more than a splendid background for his trim figure. It was very odd, reflected Lady Worth, watching him, for his height was no more than average, and he did not bear himself with any extraordinary dignity. Indeed, there seemed to be very little pomp about him. He was shaking hands briskly with the Belgian notables presented by the Mayor; he was laughing again, and really, his laugh was over-loud, not unlike the neighing of a horse.
He came further into the ballroom, pausing to greet individuals, and, catching sight of Colonel Audley, said in a quick, resonant voice: "Ah, there you are, Audley! One of my family, Baron - Colonel Audley, who has been with me in Vienna, and will show us all how they perform the grande ronde there."
"Why, Charles, how do you do?" exclaimed the Duchess of Richmond, giving him her hand. "And Lady Worth! My dear Duke, I think you have not met Charles's sister-in-law. Lady Worth, the Duke of Wellington!"
Judith found herself under the piercing scrutiny of the Duke's deep-set eyes, which surveyed her with an expression of decided approbation. She would have bowed merely, but he took her hand in a firm grasp, and shook it, saying: "Delighted! You must let me tell you how delighted I am to meet Audley's sister. Do you make a long stay in Brussels? Eh? Yes? That's capital! I shall hope for a better acquaintance."
Judith said something graceful, and as his Grace seemed inclined to linger, presented her husband. A brief How-de-do? was exchanged; other people pressed forward to claim the Duke's attention; and he passed on, bowing to one person, shaking hands with another, calling out: "Hallo, how are you? Glad to see you!" to a third. Unlike the figure of her imagination, he seemed very much at home in a ballroom, quite accessible, cheerful to the verge of jocularity, and ready to be pleased. Such remarks of his as reached Lady Worth's tars were none of them profound, and when the anxious besought his opinion of the political situation he replied with a joviality which had almost the effect of making him appear to be a little stupid.
Lady Worth was still looking after the Duke when she caught sight of Miss Devenish, standing not many paces distant, beside her aunt. Judith noticed with satisfaction that she was in her best looks, her hair very prettily dressed, her cheeks faintly flushed, and her large eyes glowing. She had just decided not to seem to be in too great a hurry to introduce Charles, when his voice said in her ear: "Who is that?"
Nothing, thought Judith, could have been more opportune! Lucy was far too unaffected to have purposely placed herself beside a plain young female in a dress of particularly harsh puce, but the effect could not have been more advantageous to her. How right she had been to advise the child to wear her white satin! It was no wonder that she had caught Charles's eye. She replied in a careless tone: "Oh, that is a young friend of mine, a Miss Devenish."
"Will you present me?"
"Why, certainly! She is pretty, is she not?"
"Pretty!" repeated the Colonel. "She is the loveliest creature I ever beheld in my life!"
Prejudiced as Judith was in Miss Devenish's favour, this encomium seemed to be to her somewhat exaggerated. Charles sounded quite serious too: in fact, oddly serious. She turned her head, and found to her surprise that he was not looking in Miss Devenish's direction, but towards the big double doorway.
"Why, Charles, whom can you be staring at?" she began, but broke off as her gaze followed his. It was quite obvious whom Colonel Audley was staring at. He was staring at a vision in palest green satin draped in a cloud of silver net. The Lady Barbara Childe had arrived, and was standing directly beneath a huge chandelier, just inside the ballroom. The candlelight touched her hair with fire, and made the emerald spray she wore in it gleam vividly. The heavy folds of satin clung to her form, and clearly revealed the long, lovely line of a leg, a little advanced beyond its fellow. Shoulders and breast were bare, if you ignored a scarf of silver net, which (thought Lady Worth) was easily done. Any woman would have agreed that the bodice of the wretched creature's gown was cut indecently low, while as for petticoats, Lady Worth for one would have owned herself surprised to learn that Barbara was wearing as much as a stitch beneath her satin and her net.
A glance at Colonel Audley's face was enough to inform her that this disgraceful circumstance was not likely to weigh with him as it should.
His hand came up to grasp her elbow, not ungently, but with a certain urgency. "Miss Devenish, did you say?"
"No, I did not!" replied Judith crossly. She recollected herself, and added with an attempt to conceal her annoyance: "You are looking at the wrong lady. That is Barbara Childe. I daresay you may have heard of her."
"So that is Barbara Childe!" he said. "Are you acquainted with her? Will you present me?"
"Well, really, Charles, my acquaintance with her is of the slightest. You know, she is not quite the thing. I will allow her to be excessively handsome, but I believe you could be disappointed if you knew her."
"Impossible!" he replied.
Judith looked wildly round in search of inspiration, and encountered only the mocking eyes of her lord. She met that quizzical glance with one of entreaty not unmixed with indignation. The Earl took snuff with a wonderful air of abstraction.
Help came from an unexpected quarter. Those standing by the door fell back; the orchestra struck up William of Nassau; the King and Queen of the Netherlands had arrived.
There could be no question of performing introductions at such a moment. As the ushers came in, the crowd parted, till an avenue was formed; their Majesties were announced; every lady sank in a deep curtsy; and in walked King William, a stout gentleman, with his stout Queen beside him, and behind him his two sons.
Majesty was in an affable mood, smiling broadly, ready to have any number of presentations made, and to be extremely gracious to everyone; but the Princes attracted more attention. The younger, Frederick, was a fine young man, with not inconsiderable pretensions to good looks. He bore himself stiffly, and favoured his acquaintances with an inclination of the head, accompanied by a small, regal smile.
His brother, the Prince of Orange, though arrayed in all the magnificence of a general's dress uniform, was a much less impressive figure. He was very thin and held himself badly, and his good-humoured countenance bore a slight resemblance to that of a startled faun. His smile, however, was disarming, and a marked tendency to wink at cronies whom he observed in the crowd could not but endear him to his more unceremonious friends. When he caught sight of Colonel Audley, an expression of delight leapt to his rather prominent eyes, and he waved to him; and when the Duke of Wellington, having bowed punctiliously over the King's hand, turned to pay his respects to him, he frustrated any attempt at formality by starting forward, and taking the Duke's hand with all the reverence of a junior officer honoured by a great man.
"I hope I see your Royal Highness in good health?" said the Duke.
"I am so glad to see you, sir," stammered his Royal Highness. "I would have reported at your house this morning, but I did not know - I was at Braine-le-Comte - you must forgive me!"
The Duke's face relaxed. "I shall be happy to see your Highness tomorrow, if that should be convenient to you."
"Yes, of course, sir!" his Highness assured him.
Majesty, listening indulgently to this interchange, intervened to draw the Duke's attention to his younger son. The Prince of Orange seized the opportunity to efface himself, and would have slipped away in search of more congenial companionship had not the signal for the dancing to begin been given at that moment. He was obliged to lead the opening quadrille with the Duchesse de Beaufort, and to dance a couple of waltzes with Madame d'Ursel and Madame d'Assche. After that, he considered his duty conscientiously performed, and disappeared from the ballroom into one of the ajoining rooms where refreshment and kindred spirits were to be found.
He entered between looped curtains to find a small and convivial party assembled there. Lord March, a fresh-faced young man with grave eyes and a quick smile, was leaning on a chair back, adjuring Colonel Audley, seated on the edge of the table, and Colonel Freemantle, lounging against the wall, to make a clean breast of their doings in Vienna. The fourth member of group was Sir Alexander Gordon, a young man with a winning personality, who was engaged in filling his glass from a decanter.
"Charles!" cried the Prince, coming forward in his impetuous style. "My dear fellow, how are you?"
Colonel Audley stood up. "Sir!" he said.
The Prince wrung his hand. "Now, don't, I beg you! I am so pleased you are here! Do not let us have any ceremony! This is like Spain: we need only Canning, and Fitzroy to walk in asking, 'Where's Slender Billy?' and we are again the old family."
"That's all very well, but you've become a great man since I saw you last," objected Colonel Audley. "I think - yes, I think a Royal Tiger."
A general laugh greeted this old Headquarters' joke. The Prince said: "You can't call me a Tiger: I am not a visitor to the camp! But have you seen the real Tigers? Mon Dieu, do you remember we called the Duc d'Angouleme a Royal Tiger? But, my dear Charles - my dear Fremantle - the Duc de Berri! No, really, you would not believe! You must see him drilling his men to appreciate him. He flies into a passion and almost falls off his horse. But on my honour!"
"No, sir!" protested March.
"I swear it!" He accepted a glass of wine from Gordon, and perched himself on the arm of a chair. "Confusion to Boney!" he said, and drank. "And General Roder!" he resumed.
"Confusion to him too, sir?" murmured Gordon.
"No - yes! The worst of our Tigers! Have you met General Roder, Charles? He doesn't like the British, he doesn't like the Dutch, he doesn't like the Belgians, he doesn't like the French, he doesn't even like your humble servant. So here is confusion to General Roder!"
While this toast was being drunk, a pleasant-faced officer in Dutch uniform had peeped round the curtain and then come into the room. He was considerably older than any of the young men drinking confusion to the unfortunate Prussian Commissioner, but was hailed by them with cheerful affection.
"Hallo, Baron! Come in!" said Audley. "How are you?"
"Glass of wine with you, Baron?" Fremantle held up the decanter invitingly.
"Constant! We are drinking confusion to General von Roder. Join us immediately!" commanded his Royal master.
The Baron Constant de Rebecque glanced swiftly over his shoulder. He accepted a glass of wine, but said in very good English: "I beg of you, sir - ! Consider where you are, and who you are, and - very well, very well, here is confusion to him, then! And now will you recollect, sir, that this is a fete for their Majesties, and it expected that you will conduct yourself en prince! Your absence will be noticed: his Majesty will be displeased."
The Prince shrugged his shoulders. "It is absurd. I can not spend all the evening being civil to the Tigers, I will not conduct myself en prince if that means I can not not drink a glass of wine with my friends."
"Sir , you are also the General in Command of the Army and not any more a junior aide-de-camp."
The Prince patted his arm. "Constant, mon pauvre, you have not seen - you have not heard! You are dreaming, in fact. Go and look who is here tonight. My poor command is quite at an end."
"Mon Prince, you are still in command, and you must mingle with your guests."
"That's quite true, sir," said Fremantle. "The Duke hasn't taken over the command yet. Duty calls you, General!"
At this moment, and while the Prince still looked recalcitrant, a very tall man with the buff collar and silver lace of the 52nd Regiment appeared between the curtains, and stood silently surveying the group. He was Saxon fair, with ice-blue eyes, a high-bridged nose, and a fighting chin, and was built on splendid lines that were marred only by the droop of his right shoulder, the joint of which had become anchylosed, from a wound incurred in the Peninsula. At sight of him, Lord March straightened himself instinctively, and Colonel Fremantle jumped up from his chair.
The Prince turned his head, and pulled a grimace. "You need not tell me! You are looking for me. First my quarter-master-general, and now my military secretary. Your health, Sir John!"
"Thank you, sir," said Colonel Colborne in his slow deep voice. A smile crept into his eyes. "I thought I should find you with the riffraff of the staff," he remarked. "If I were your Highness, I would return to the ballroom."
"Because my father will be displeased," said the Prince. "I have that by heart."
"No," replied Sir John. "Because his Majesty is more than likely to request the Duke to speak to you, sir."
"Oh, mon Dieu!" exclaimed the Prince, preparing for instant flight. "You are entirely right! Charles, my hotel is in the Rue de Brabant! I charge you, don't forget! I will go and do my duty, and dance with all the ugly old women. Would you like to be presented to a fat Frau? No? Well, then, au revoir!"
"Stay a moment!" said Colonel Audley suddenly. "Do that for me, sir, will you?"
The Prince paused in the doorway, looking back with laugh in his eyes. "What, present you to a fat Frau?"
"No, to the Lady Barbara Childe."
The Prince's brow shot up; a low whistle broke from Lord March; Colonel Fremantle said solicitously: "My door fellow, you are not yourself. Take my advice and go quietly home to bed."
Audley reddened, but only said: "I am perfectly serious. I have been trying for the past hour to get an introduction, but there's no coming near her for the crowd round her. You could present me, sir, if you would."
"Steal into the supper-room and change the tickets on the tables," suggested March flippantly.
"Don't do it, sir!" recommended Fremantle.
The Prince laughed. "But Charles, this is the road to ruin! Really, you wish it?"
"Most earnestly, sir."
"Come, then, but mind, I am not to be blamed for consequences!"
Colonel Audley had not exaggerated the difficulty of approaching Barbara Childe. When she left the dancing-floor on the arm of her partner she became engulfed in a crowd of impatient supplicants who would scarcely give place to any under the rank of a general. All had, however, to fall back before the Prince of Orange, who led Colonel Audley up to her ladyship, and said with his appealing smile: "Lady Barbara, I want to present to you a friend of mine who desires beyond anything this introduction. Colonel Audley - Lady Barbara Childe!"
Colonel Audley bowed, and looked up to find the Lady Barbara's brilliant gaze upon him. There was candid speculation in it, a tolerant smile just parted the lady's lips. The Colonel returned the look, smiled, and said in his pleasant voice: "How do you do?"
"How do you do?" responded Barbara slowly, still looking at him.