An Infamous Army (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 4)

Barbara gave a laugh. ‘Is anything else of consequence? I like him for that!’

‘You are made to be a soldier’s wife! I was put out of all patience! Oh, Bab, that message! What can he have meant by it?’

Barbara looked at her with glinting eyes, and the lifting smile that meant danger. ‘I could take him away from that chit in a week. Less! A day!’

‘I daresay you might: indeed, I’ve no doubt of it. But I wish you would not talk so.’

‘Do not alarm yourself. I shan’t do it. If only he comes safe back he may have her—yes, and I’ll smile and be glad!’ Her face broke up; she cried out: ‘No, not that! but I won’t make mischief—I promise I won’t make mischief!’

Twenty minutes later Worth re-entered the room to find both ladies seated on the sofa, in companionable silence. He said in his calm way: ‘Take my advice, and go to bed. There is no danger tonight, but I may be obliged to convey you to the coast tomorrow. So get what rest you can now.’

‘Has Charles gone?’ Judith asked.

‘Yes—and your Sunday dinner with him.’

‘Oh dear! But it does not signify. I wish it would stop raining! I do not like to think of him riding all that way in this downpour!’

‘He will do very well, I assure you. If you wish to be pitying anyone, pity the poor devils who are bivouacking out in the open tonight.’

She rose. ‘I do pity them. Come, Bab! he is right; we should go to bed.’

The words were hardly spoken when they heard a knock on the street door. Even Worth looked a little surprised, and raised his brows. The butler had not yet retired to bed; they heard him go to the door and open it; and a moment later the stairs creaked under his heavy tread. He entered the salon, but before he could announce the visitor, Lucy Devenish had rushed past him into the room.

A wet cloak and hood enveloped her; she was pale, and evidently in great agitation. She looked wildly round the room, and then, fixing her eyes on Judith’s astonished countenance, faltered: ‘My uncle heard that Colonel Audley had been at Sir Charles Stuart’s!’

‘He has been there, and here, too, but I am afraid he has this moment gone,’ said Judith. ‘My dear child, surely you did not come alone, and in this shocking storm? Let me take your cloak! How imprudent this is of you!’

‘Oh, I know, I know! But I could not sleep without trying to get news! No one knows that I am not in my bed—it is wrong of me, but indeed, indeed I had to come!’

Judith removed the dripping cloak from her shoulders. ‘Hush, Lucy! There is no need for this alarm. Charles is safe, and all is well, upon my honour!’

Miss Devenish pushed the hair from her brow with one distracted hand. ‘I ran the whole way! I hoped to see him—but it is no matter!’ She made an effort to be calm, and sank down upon a chair, saying: ‘I am so glad he is safe! Did he tell you what had been happening? Was there any news? What did he say?’

‘Yes, indeed; he has been describing to us how our Army has been obliged to retreat to Mont St Jean. It appears there has been no very serious fighting today: nothing but some cavalry skirmishes, which he said were extremely pretty, if you please!’

‘Oh—! Please tell me! I—we have heard so little all day, you see,’ Lucy said, with a forced laugh.

‘There was nothing of any consequence, my dear. Indeed, from what he said I gathered that only some hussars and the Life Guards have been actually engaged with the enemy. Charles himself—’

She stopped, for Lucy had sprung up, her face so ghastly and her manner so distraught that for a moment Judith almost feared that she had taken leave of her senses. ‘Charles? What is he to me?’ Lucy said hoarsely. ‘It is George—George! Was there no word? No message for me? Lady Barbara, for God’s sake tell me, or I shall go mad with this suspense!’

‘George?’ gasped Judith, grasping a chairback for support.

‘Yes, George!’ Lucy cried fiercely. ‘I can bear no more! I must know what has become of him, I tell you!’

‘He is perfectly safe,’ said Barbara coolly.

Lucy gave a long sigh and dropped on to the sofa. ‘Oh, thank God, thank God!’ she sobbed. ‘What I have undergone—The torture! The suspense!’

Across the room, Barbara’s eyes met Judith’s for a moment; then she glanced down at Lucy’s bowed head, and said: ‘Oh, confound you, must you cry because he is safe?’

Judith stepped up to the sofa and laid her hand on Lucy’s shoulder. ‘Lucy, what is this folly?’ she asked. ‘What can Lord George be to you?’

Lucy lifted her face from her hands. ‘He is my husband!’ she said.

A dumbfounded silence fell. Barbara was staring at her with narrowed eyes, Judith in utter incredulity. With deliberation, the Earl polished his quizzing glass, and raised it, and gazed at Lucy in a dispassionately considering fashion.

‘George actually married you?’ said Barbara slowly. ‘When?’