‘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.