An Infamous Army (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 4)

‘It is not fit!’

‘Ah, you doubt the propriety of it! I don’t care for that.’ Her mouth quivered, but she controlled it. Judith noticed that she had twisted the end of her scarf tightly between her fingers and was gripping it so hard that her gloves seemed in danger of splitting. ‘Both my brothers are engaged in this war,’ she said. ‘And Charles.’

‘I had not supposed that Charles’s fate was any longer a concern of yours,’ Judith said.

‘I am aware of that. But it is my concern, nevertheless.’ She stared at Judith with haunted eyes. ‘Perhaps I may never see him again. But if he comes back I shall be here.’ She drew a sobbing breath, and continued in a hard voice: ‘That, however, is my affair. Lord Worth, you are very obliging. My groom shall bring the horses round during the course of the day. Goodbye!’ She held out her hand, but drew it back, flushing a little. ‘Oh—! You would rather not shake hands with me, I daresay!’

‘I have not the least objection to shaking hands with you,’ he replied, ‘But I should be grateful to you if you could contrive to stop being foolish. Now sit down and try to believe that your differences with my brother leave me supremely indifferent.’

She smiled faintly, and after a brief hesitation sat down in the chair by the table. ‘Well, what now?’ she asked.

‘Are you staying with friends? May I have your direction?’

‘I am at the Hôtel de Belle Vue.’

‘Indeed! Alone?’

‘Yes, alone, if you discount my maid.’

‘It will not do,’ he said. ‘If you mean to remain in Brussels you must stay here.’

She looked at him rather blankly. ‘You must be mad!’

‘I am quite sane, I assure you. It can never be thought desirable for a young and unprotected female to be staying in a public hotel. In a foreign capital, and in such unsettled times as these, it would be the height of folly.’

She gave a short laugh. ‘My dear man, you forget that I am not an inexperienced miss just out of the schoolroom! I am a widow, and if it comes to folly, why, I make a practice of behaving foolishly!’

‘Just so, but that is no reason why you should not mend your ways.’

She got up. ‘This is to no purpose. It is unthinkable that I should stay in your house. You are extremely kind, but—’

‘Not at all,’ he interrupted. ‘I am merely protecting myself from the very just anger I am persuaded my brother would feel were he to find you putting up at an hotel when he returns to Brussels.’

She said unsteadily: ‘Please—! We will not speak of Charles. You don’t wish me to make a fool of myself, I imagine.’

He did not answer; he was looking at Judith. She was obliged to recognise the propriety of his invitation. She did not like it, but good breeding compelled her to say: ‘My husband is right. I will have a room prepared at once, Lady Barbara. I hope you will not find it very disagreeable: we shall do our best to make your stay comfortable.’

‘Thank you. It is not I who would find such a visit disagreeable. You dislike me cordially: I do not blame you. I dislike myself.’

Judith coloured, and replied in a cool voice: ‘I have not always done so. There have been times when I have liked you very well.’

‘You hated me for what I did to Charles.’

‘Yes.’

‘O God, if I could undo—if I could have it back, all this past month! It is useless! I behaved like the devil I am. That wretched quarrel! The very knowledge that I was in the wrong drove me to worse conduct! I have never been answerable to anyone for my misdeeds: there is a fiendish quality in me that revolts at the veriest hint of—but how should you understand? It is not worthy of being understood!’

She covered her face with her hands. Worth walked across the room to the door, and went out.

Judith said in a kinder tone: ‘I do understand in part. I was not always so docile as you think me. But Charles! There is such a sweetness of temper, such nobility of mind—’

‘Stop!’ Barbara cried fiercely. ‘Do you think I don’t know it? I knew it when he first came up to me, and I looked into his eyes, and loved him. I knew myself to be unworthy! The only thing I did that I am not ashamed of now was to try not to let him persuade me into becoming engaged to him. That impulse was the noblest I have ever felt. Though I knew I should not, I yielded. I wanted him, and all my life I have taken what I wanted, without thought or compunction!’ She gave a wild laugh. ‘You despise me, but you should also pity me, for I have enough heart to wish I had more.’

‘I do pity you,’ Judith said, considerably moved. ‘But having yielded—’

‘Yes! Having yielded, why could I not submit? I do not know, unless it be that from the day I married Jasper Childe I swore I would never do so, never allow myself to be possessed, or governed, or even guided. Don’t misunderstand me! I am not trying to find excuses for myself. The fault lies deeper: it is in my curst nature!’

‘I have sometimes thought,’ Judith said, after a short pause, ‘that the circumstances of your engagement made it particularly trying for you. In this little town we are obliged to live in a crowded circle from which there can be no escape. One’s every action is remarked, and discussed. It is as though your engagement to Charles was acted upon a stage, in all the glare of footlights, for the amusement of your acquaintances.’