An Infamous Army (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 4)

At four o’clock the sun was shining. In the Park, the pipes were playing Hieland Laddie. The sound of them drew nearer, the tread of feet grew to a rhythmic thunder. The Highland Brigade came marching through the Place in the first rays of the sunlight, pipe-majors strutting ahead, ribbons fluttering from the bagpipes, huge fur headdresses nodding, and kilts swinging.

‘Were they some of those men who danced for us tonight?’ Judith asked, recognising a tartan.

‘Yes.’

She was silent, watching them pass through the Place and out of sight. When the music of the pipes was faint in the distance, she said, with a sigh: ‘Let us go home now, Julian. I shall remember this night as long as I live, I think.’

Eighteen

By eight o’clock in the morning the last of the regiments had marched out of Brussels. A little later the Duke followed, accompanied by his staff, and a profound silence descended on the city. Judith had fallen asleep some hours before, with the sound of the trumpets and the tread of many feet in her ears. When she awoke the morning was considerably advanced. Her first feeling was of surprise to find everything quiet, for the shouting and the drumming and the bugle-calls had seemed to run through her dreams. She got up, and looked out between the blinds upon a sun-baked street. A cat curled on the steps of a house opposite was the only living thing in sight. No uniforms swaggered down the street, no ladies in muslins and chip hats floated along to pay their morning calls or to promenade in the Park.

She dressed, and went down to the salon on the first floor. Worth had gone out, but he came in presently with the newspapers. It was being reported in the cafés that the Duke had ridden out in high spirits, saying that Blücher would most likely have settled the business himself by that time and that he would probably be back in Brussels for dinner. The general opinion seemed to be that no action would be fought that day. It was thought that the bulk of the British troops could not be brought up in time. Judith did not know whether to be glad or sorry; the suspense would be as hard to bear as the sound of cannon, she thought.

‘Quite a number of people are leaving for Antwerp,’ Worth observed. ‘Lady Fitzroy has gone, and I met De Lancey just before he went off to join the Army, who told me that he had prevailed upon that poor young wife of his to go, too.’ He paused, but she made no comment. He smiled. ‘Well, Judith?’

‘You would not wish to go if I were not here.’

‘Very true, but that can hardly be said to have a bearing on the case.’

‘I don’t want to run away, if you think it would not be wrong in me to stay. I hope you don’t mean to talk to me of defeat, for I won’t listen if you do.’

‘Like you, I’m of a sanguine disposition. But young Julian’s nurse beat us both in that respect. She has taken him out into the Park for an airing, and the only emotion roused in her breast by all the racket that went on during the night was a strong indignation at having a child’s rest disturbed.’

‘Ah, she is a phlegmatic Scot! I have no fear of her losing her head.’

They were interrupted by the butler’s coming into the room with the announcement that Lady Barbara Childe was below and wished to speak to the Earl.

Judith was astounded. She had not thought that after their encounter on the previous night Lady Barbara would dare to accost her again, let alone call at her residence. She looked at Worth, but he merely raised his eyebrows, and said: ‘Well, I am at home, and perfectly ready to receive visitors. I don’t understand why they are left in the hall. Beg her ladyship to come up.’

‘Yes, my lord,’ said the butler, his bosom swelling at the reproof. ‘I should have done so in the first place but that her ladyship desired me to carry the message.’

He withdrew, stately and outraged. The door had scarcely shut behind him when Judith’s feelings got the better of her. She exclaimed: ‘I wish you had sent her about her business! I do not see why I should be obliged to receive her in my house! And that you should be willing to do so gives me a very poor opinion of your loyalty to Charles!’

‘I cannot think that Charles would thank me for turning Lady Barbara away from my door,’ he replied.

There was no time for more; the butler opened the door and announced Barbara; and she cam

e into the room with her long, mannish stride.

Judith rose, but before she had time to speak she was forestalled.

‘I didn’t mean to force myself into your presence,’ Barbara said. ‘I am sorry. My business is with your husband.’ She paused, and a wintry, rueful smile flashed across her face. ‘Oh, the devil! My curst tongue again! Don’t look so stiff: I have not come to wreck your marriage.’ This was said with a good deal of bitterness. She forced herself to speak more lightly, and added, looking in her clear way at Worth: ‘I couldn’t could I? You at least have never succumbed to my famous charms.’

‘No, never,’ he replied imperturbably. ‘Will you not sit down?’

‘No; I do not mean to stay above a minute. The case is that I am in the devil of a quandary over my horses. Would you be so obliging as to house them for me in your stables? There is the pair I drive in my phaeton, and my mare as well.’

‘Willingly,’ he said. ‘But—forgive me—why?’

‘My brother and his wife are leaving Brussels this morning. They are gone by this time, I daresay. The house in the Rue Ducale is given up. My own groom is not to be trusted alone, and I do not care to stable the horses at the hôtel. They tell me there is already such a demand for horses to carry people to Antwerp that by nightfall it will be a case of stealing what can’t be hired.’

‘Lord and Lady Vidal gone!’ Judith exclaimed, surprised into breaking her silence.

‘Oh yes!’ Barbara replied indifferently. ‘Gussie has been in one of her confounded takings ever since the news was brought in last night, and Vidal is very little better.’

‘But you do not mean to remain here alone, surely?’

‘Why not?’