An Infamous Army (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 4)

‘Indeed! Are you his envoy, Lady Worth?’

Judith was obliged to deny it. She was spared having to listen to the mocking rejoinder, which, she was sure, hovered on the tip of Barbara’s tongue, by Colonel Audley’s coming up to them at that moment. He stepped between them, offering each an arm, and having glanced at both their faces, said: ‘I conclude that I have interrupted a duel. My guess is that Judith has been preaching propriety, and Bab announcing herself a confirmed rake.’

‘I have certainly been preaching propriety,’ replied Judith. ‘It sounds odious, and I fear Lady Barbara has found it so.’

‘No! Confoundedly boring!’ said Barbara. ‘I am informed, Charles, that you will dislike my picnic scheme excessively. Shall you?’

‘Good God no! Go, by all means, if you wish to—and can stand the gossip.’

‘I am quite accustomed to it,’ she said indifferently.

Judith felt so much indignation at the lack of feeling shown by this remark that she drew her hand away from the Colonel’s arm, and dropped behind to walk with her brother. This left Miss Devenish to the Count’s escort, an arrangement which continued until Barbara left the party. The Count then requested the honour of being allowed to conduct her home; Colonel Audley, who was obliged to call at Headquarters, made no objection, and Miss Devenish found herself once more in the company of Sir Peregrine, Lady Worth and Colonel Audley walking ahead of them.

After a few moments, Judith said in a vexed tone: ‘You will surely not permit her to behave with such impropriety!’

‘I see no impropriety,’ he replied.

‘To be alone with that man the whole day!’

‘An indiscretion, certainly.’

She walked on beside him in silence for some way, but presently said: ‘Why do you permit it?’

‘I have no power to stop her even if I would.’

‘Even if you would? What can you mean?’

‘She must be the only judge of her own actions. I won’t become a mentor.’

‘Charles, how nonsensical! Do you mean to let yourself be ridden over roughshod?’

‘Neither to be ridden over nor to ride roughshod,’ he answered. ‘To manage my own affairs in my own way, however.’

‘I beg your pardon,’ she said, in a mortified voice.

He pressed her hand, but after a slight pause began to talk of something else. She attempted no further discussion with him on the subject of the picnic, but to Worth, later, spoke her mind with great freedom. He listened calmly to all she had to say, but when she demanded to know his opinion, replied that he thought her intervention to have been ill-judged.

‘I had no notion of vexing her! I tried only to advise her!’

‘You made a great mistake in doing so. Advice is seldom palatable.’

‘I think she is perfectly heartless!’

‘I hope you may be found to be wrong.’

‘And, what is more, she is a flirt. I am sure there can be nothing more odious!’ She paused, but as Worth showed no sign of wishing to avail himself of the opportunity of answering her, continued: ‘Nothing could be more unfortunate than such an entanglement! I wonder you can sit there so placidly while Charles goes the quickest way to work to ruin his life! She has nothing to recommend her. She has not even the advantages of fortune; she is wild to a fault; indulges every extravagant folly; and in general shows such a want of delicacy that it quite sinks my spirits to think of Charles forming such a connection!’ She again paused, and as Worth remained silent, said: ‘Well? Can you find anything to admire in her, beyond a beautiful face and a well-turned ankle?’

‘Certainly,’ he replied. ‘She has a great deal of natural quickness, and although her vivacity often betrays her into unbecoming behaviour, I believe she wants neither sense nor feeling.’

‘You will tell me next that you are pleased with the engagement!’

‘On the contrary, I am sorry for it. But depend upon it, a man of thirty-five is capable of judging for himself what will best suit him.’

‘Oh, Julian, I know she will make him unhappy!’

‘I think it extremely probable,’ he replied. ‘But as neither of us has the power to prevent such a contingency we should be extremely foolish to interfere in the matter.’

She sighed, and picked up her embroidery. After a period of reflection, she said in a mollified tone: ‘I don’t wish to be censorious, and I must say she is extremely kind to little Julian.’