An Infamous Army Read online

  ‘Disagreeable!’ he exclaimed. ‘It is a damnable piece of work!’ He checked himself, and continued in a more moderate tone: ‘I beg your pardon, but you will agree that I have reason to feel this strongly. Is Peregrine with Bab now?’

  ‘I do not know, but I judge it to be very probable.’ She saw him compress his lips, and added: ‘I think if you were to speak to Lady Barbara—’

  ‘I shall speak to Barbara in good time, but my present business is with Peregrine.’

  She could not help feeling a little alarmed. He spoke in a grim voice which she had never heard before, and when she stole a glance at his face there was nothing in its expression to reassure her. She said falteringly: ‘You will do what is right, I am sure.’

  He glanced down at her, and seeing how anxiously she was looking at him, said with a faint smile, but with a touch of impatience: ‘My dear Judith, do you suppose I am going to run Peregrine through, or what?’

  She lowered her eyes in a little confusion. ‘Oh! of course not! What an absurd notion! But what do you mean to do?’

  ‘Put an end to this nauseating business,’ he replied.

  ‘Oh, if you could! Such affairs may so easily lead to disaster!’

  ‘Very easily.’

  She sighed, and said rather doubtfully: ‘Do you think that it will answer? I would have spoke to Perry myself, only that I feared to do more harm than good. When he gets these headstrong fits the least hint of opposition seems to make him worse. I begged Worth to intervene, but he declined doing it, and I daresay he was right.’

  ‘Worth!’ he said. ‘No, it is not for him to speak to Peregrine. I am the one who is concerned in this, and what I have to say to Peregrine I can assure you he will pay heed to!’ He glanced at the clock over the fireplace, and added: ‘I am going to call at his house now. Don’t look so anxious, there is not the least need.’

  She stretched out her hand to him. ‘If I look anxious it is on your account. Dear Charles, I am so sorry this should have happened! Don’t let it vex you: it was all mischief, nothing else!’

  He grasped her hand for a moment, and said in a low voice: ‘Unpleasant mischief! It is the fault of that wretched up-bringing! Sometimes I fear—But the heart is unspoiled. Try to believe that: I know it.’

  She could only press his fingers understandingly. He held her hand an instant longer, then, with a brief smile, let it go and walked out of the room.

  Peregrine was not to be found at his house, but Colonel Audley sent up his card to Lady Taverner, and was presently admitted into her salon.

  She received him with evident agitation. She looked frightened, and greeted him with nervous breathlessness, trying to seem at ease, but failing miserably.

  He shook hands with her, and put her out of her agony of uncertainty by coming straight to the point. ‘Lady Taverner, we are old friends,’ he said in his pleasant way. ‘You need not be afraid to trust me, and I need not, I know, fear to be frank with you. I have come about this nonsensical affair of Peregrine’s. Shall we sit down and talk it over sensibly together?’

  She said faintly: ‘Oh! How can I—You—I do not know how to—’

  ‘You will agree that I am concerned in it as much as you are,’ he said. ‘Judith has been telling me the whole. What a tangle it is! And all arising out of my stupidity in allowing Peregrine to be my deputy that evening! Can you forgive me?’

  She sank down upon the sofa, averting her face. ‘I am sure you never dreamed—Judith says it is my own fault, that I brought it on myself by my folly!’

  ‘I think the hardest thing of all is to be wise in our dealings with the people we love,’ he said. ‘I know I have found it so.’

  She ventured to turn her head towards him. ‘Perhaps I was a fool. Judith will have told you that I was rude and ill-bred. It is true! I do not know what can have possessed me, only when she came up to me, so beautiful, and—oh, I cannot explain! I am sorry: this is very uncomfortable for you!’

  Her utterance became choked by tears; she groped for her handkerchief among the sofa cushions, and was startled by finding a large one put into her hand. Her drenched eyes flew upwards to the Colonel’s face; a sound between a sob and a laugh escaped her, and she said unsteadily: ‘Thank you! You are very obliging! Oh dear, how can you be so—so—I am sure I don’t know why I am laughing when my heart is broken!’

  Colonel Audley watched her dry her cheeks, and said: ‘But your heart isn’t broken.’

  Harriet emerged from his handkerchief to say with a good deal of indignation: ‘I don’t see how you can know whether my heart is broken or not!’

  ‘Of course I can know, for I know mine is not.’

  This seemed unanswerable. Harriet could only look helplessly at him, and wait for more.

  He smiled at her, and took his handkerchief back. ‘Crying won’t mend matters. I rely on you to help me in this business.’

  The idea was so novel that she blinked at him in surprise. ‘How can I?’

  ‘By behaving like the sensible woman I know you to be. Confess! didn’t you mishandle Peregrine shockingly?’

  ‘Yes, perhaps I did, but how could he be so faithless? I thought he loved me!’

  ‘So he does. But he is very young. In general, a boy goes through a number of calf loves before he marries, but in your case it was different. I expect you were his first love.’

  ‘Yes,’ whispered Harriet.

  ‘Well, that was charming,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Only, you see, this was bound to happen.’

  ‘Bound to happen?’

  ‘Yes, certainly. You have not been very well; he has been left to his own devices, and in circumstances where it would have been wonderful indeed if, at twenty-three, he had kept his head. This life we are all leading in Brussels is ruinous. Are you not conscious of it?’

  ‘Oh yes, a thousand times yes! I wish I were safely at home!’

  ‘I am glad to hear you say so, for that is what, if you will let me, I am going to advise you to do. Go home, and forget all this.’

  ‘He won’t go home!’

  ‘Yes, he will. Only you mustn’t reproach him just yet. Later, if you like, and still want to, but not now. He will be very much ashamed of himself presently, and wonder how he can have been such a fool.’

  ‘How can you know all this?’

  He smiled. ‘I have been twenty-three myself. Of course I know. You may believe me when I tell you that this doesn’t signify. No, I know you cannot quite see how that may be true, but I pledge you my word it is.’

  She sighed. ‘How kind you are! You make me feel such a goose! How shall I prevail upon Perry to take me home? What shall I say to him?’

  ‘Nothing. I am going to have a talk with him, and I think you will find him only too ready to take you home.’ He rose, and took out his card case, and, extracting a card, wrote something on the back of it with a pencil picked up from Harriet’s escritoire. ‘I’ll leave this with your butler,’ he said. ‘It is just to inform Peregrine that I am coming to call on him after dinner tonight. You need not mention that you have seen me.’

  ‘Oh no! But he is sure to be going out,’ she said mournfully.

  ‘Don’t worry! He won’t go out,’ replied the Colonel.

  She looked doubtful, but it seemed that the Colonel knew what he was talking about, for Peregrine, the card with its curt message in his waistcoat pocket, retired after dinner to his study on the ground floor. Dinner had been an uncomfortable meal. When the servants were in the room a civil interchange of conversation had to be maintained; when they left it, Harriet sat with downcast eyes and a heavy heart, while Peregrine, making a pretence of eating what had been put before him, wondered what Colonel Audley was going to say to him, and what he was to reply.

  The Colonel, who had dined at the Duke’s table, did not arrive until after nine o’clock, and by that time Peregrine had reached a state of acute discomfort. When the knock at last fell on the front door, he got up out of his chair and nervously straighten