An Infamous Army Read online

  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.’

  The entrance of the Colonel put an end to the conversation. He had been dining at the Duke’s table, and seemed to be more concerned with the difficulties of the military situation than with Barbara’s volatility. He sat down with a sigh of relief before the fire, and said: ‘Well! we depart (I need hardly say) at daybreak. It will be a relief to leave these Headquarters behind us. If his temper is to survive this campaign Old Hookey must have a respite from the letters they keep sending from the Horse Guards.’

  ‘Crusty, is he?’ said Worth.

  ‘Damned crusty. I don’t blame him: I wouldn’t be in his shoes for a thousand pounds. What is needed is good troops, and all we hear of is general officers. Added to that, the staff which has been employed here is preposterous. One is for ever tumbling over deputy-assistants who are nothing more than subaltern officers, and no more fit for staff duty than your son would be. They are all being turned off, of course, but even so we shall have too many novices still left on the staff.’

  ‘If I know anything of the matter, you will have more—if Wellington pays any heed to the recommendations he will receive,’ remarked Worth.

  ‘He don’t, thank the lord! Though, between ourselves, some of those recommendations come from very exalted quarters.’ He stood up. ‘I am off to bed. Have you made up your mind whether you come along with us, or not, Worth?’

  ‘Yes, as far as to Ghent. Where do you go from there?’

  ‘Oh, Tournay—Mons! All the fortifications. We shall be away for about a week, I suppose.’

  Both men had left the house when Judith came down to breakfast next morning. She sat down at the table, with only The British and Continental Herald to bear her company, and was engaged in perusing the columns of Births, Marriages, and Deaths, when the butler came in to announce the Lady Barbara Childe.

  Judith looked up in surprise; she supposed Lady Barbara to be in the salon, but before she could speak that tempestuous beauty had brushed past the butler into the room.

  She was dressed in a walking costume, and carried a huge chinchilla muff. She looked pale, and her eyes seemed over-bright to Judith. She glanced round the room, and said abruptly: ‘Charles! I want to see him!’

  Judith rose, and came forward. ‘How do you do?’ she said. ‘I am sorry, but my brother has already left for Ghent. I hope it is nothing urgent?’

  Barbara exclaimed: ‘Oh, confound it! I wanted to see him! I overslept—it’s those curst drops!’

  Her petulance, the violence of the language she used, did nothing to advance her claims to Judith’s kindness. ‘I am sorry. Pray will you not be seated?’

  ‘Oh no! There’s no use in my staying!’ Barbara replied dejectedly. Her mouth drooped; her eyes were emptied of light; she stood swinging her muff, apparently lost in her own brooding thoughts. Suddenly she looked at Judith, and laughed. ‘Oh, heavens! what did I say? You are certainly offended!’

  Judith at once disclaimed. Barbara said, with her air of disarming candour: ‘I am sorry! Only I did wish to see Charles before he left, and I am always cross when I don’t get what I want.’

  ‘I hope it was not a matter of great importance.’

  ‘No. That is, I behaved odiously to him yesterday—oh, to you, too, but I don’t care for that! Oh, the devil, now what have I said?’

  She looked so rueful, yet had such an imp of mischief dancing behind her solemnity that Judith was obliged to laugh. ‘I wish you will sit down! Have you breakfasted?’

  Barbara dropped into a chair. ‘No. I don’t, you know.’ She sighed. ‘Life is using me very hardly today. You will say that is my own fault, but it is nevertheless monstrous that when I do mean to be good, to make amends, I must needs oversleep.’

  After a moment’s hesitation, Judith said: ‘You refer, I collect, to your picnic scheme?’

  ‘Of course. I wanted to tell Charles I was only funning.’

  ‘You do not mean to go, then!’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I am so glad! I was completely taken in, I confess.’

  ‘Oh no! I did mean to go—yesterday! But Gussie—’ She broke off, grinding her teeth together.

  ‘Your sister-in-law advised you against the scheme?’

  ‘On the contrary!’ said Barbara, with an angry little laugh.

  ‘I don’t think I quite understand?’

  ‘I daresay you might not. She had the infernal impudence to approve of it. She will be a famous matchmaking mama for her daughters one of these days.’

  ‘Can you mean that she wishes you to marry the Comte de Lavisse?’ gasped Judith.

  ‘Most earnestly. Ah, you are astonished. You are not acquainted with my family.’

  ‘But your engagement to my brother! She could not wish to see that broken!’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘A solemn promise—the scandal!’

  Barbara burst out laughing. ‘Oh, you’re enchanting when you’re shocked! An outraged goddess, no less! But you must lea