The Regency (104 page)

At the end of the supper interval she had retired to the
ladies' room to dab a little powder on her shoulders, and
adjust her hair; and when she came out and was walking back
towards the ballroom, she suddenly felt an extraordinary
sensation, as if an icy draught were touching the back of her
neck. All the little hairs stood on end, and she shivered and
turned round to see Hawker standing a little way off, watching
her with those amused, knowing eyes.

She drew a breath of shock, dismay and delight. The first
sight of him told her how much she had missed him, how
much she had longed to see him again, though she denied it
very firmly to herself, and she stood looking at him uncertainly,
not knowing how she should greet him.

He thrust himself off from the wall against which he had
been lounging, and came towards her with that lithe, easy
grace which always made her think of a cat.

‘
Well, Miss Morland?' he said. 'I've been waiting here this
half-hour for you to emerge. What do you ladies find to do in
there?'

‘Mr Hawker,' she said neutrally, with a slight curtsey.

His smile broadened. 'Is that all? Just "Mr Hawker" after
all this time?'

‘What else would you have me say?' she asked coolly.

‘
On your dignity, Fanny? Yes, and you were when we last
parted, too.'

‘
Oh, you remember that, do you? And you will remember,
then, how you behaved towards me — cold, indifferent, cruel!
You have had the greeting you deserve, Mr Hawker,' she said,
and turned away from him.

He caught her back, gently but firmly. 'Don't go yet. Let
me look at you. By God, Fanny Morland, you're lovelier than
ever! I like that gown, very much. Did you choose it yourself!'

‘
What interest have you in my gowns, pray?' she said
sharply.

‘
I'm interested in everything about you. I've been watching
you for a long time this evening, dancing with those callow
boys, listening to their chatter, so horribly bored, and
concealing it so well. Not from me of course — but I'm an old
friend, and I know you better than they do.'

‘You were here all the time?'

‘Not all the time. I arrived half an hour before supper, and
stood on the edge of the crowd, watching. But you didn't
notice me.'

‘
Why didn't you approach me before now?' she asked a
little stiffly.

‘
I wanted to see if you had missed me as much as I have
missed you.'

‘
Nonsense! After the way we parted, the night you took me
to Vauxhall —'

‘
Oh, Fanny, didn't you understand? I was trying to harden
my heart against you! I knew I had to go away, and I didn't want to leave you. And I didn't want you to waste your life
loving me, when I might never come back.'

‘
What are you talking about?' Fanny asked, intrigued
despite herself. 'Why did you have to go away? You might
please yourself, I suppose?'

‘
In time of war men cannot always do what they want,' he
said obliquely.

‘You can't mean you joined the army?’

He smiled. 'There are other ways of serving one's country,
besides fighting.'

‘You went on a diplomatic mission?' Her eyes were wide.

‘
I'm not at liberty to tell you anything,' he said. 'All I can
say was that it was essential that I went, and that I had no
knowledge of whether it would be in my power to return. But
I'm here now, and we can forget all of that. I've come to see
you, Fanny! Oh, you can't imagine how I have missed you,
how I've thought of you, and our last night together at
Vauxhall! Your sweetness then is one of my most treasured
memories.'

‘
I've missed you too,' she admitted unwillingly. She
glanced around. 'But we can't stand here — someone will
come along and see us.'

‘
Then we'll go outside. I want to kiss you again, Fanny.
I've dreamt of it so often.’

She trembled, but held firm. 'No, no, it's impossible! I must
go back into the ballroom, or my name will be ruined. I am
known here, you see. This is not London. What I do here
matters.'

‘
Then I'll come and dance with you, if that's the best you
can offer.'

‘I'm engaged already,' she said. 'All my dances are taken.’

He took her hand and tucked it under his arm. 'Too bad,'
he said. As they neared the ballroom he cocked an ear to the
music which had just become audible. 'What's this? A Waltz?
Can York be so very daring?’

Fanny was surprised too. 'I didn't think they would risk
calling it. Probably not many people will take the floor.'

‘
All the better for us, then. We shall shew them how it
should be done. Will you, Fanny?’

They stepped through the ballroom door. Only two couples
had so far taken the floor, a little tentatively, and neither of
them was performing the dance very well. It was, Fanny
thought, a dance which demanded boldness, for to do it half
heartedly was to fail it in its essence. She suddenly wanted to shew them all, not simply how the dance should be done, but how life should be lived. They should all watch the beautiful
Fanny Morland dancing with the most handsome man in the
room.

‘
Yes, Mr Hawker,' she said, and turned to him, looping up
her skirt as the people nearby fell away to give them passage.
She trembled as Hawker took her hand, trembled even more as he placed his hand firmly round her waist; to be touched
by a man so, in public, seemed almost indecent! And then the
music got into her head, and poured down into her feet, and
suddenly they were away, moving so rapidly over the floor it
was like flying, whirling round and round, their steps perfectly
matched. She saw the blur of faces watching as they passed,
and didn't know if they watched in admiration or censure.
What's more, she didn't care. To waltz with Hawker seemed
the very pinnacle of bliss to her: she wished they might go
on dancing like this for ever.

 
In January 1814, Lord Castlereagh had gone in person to
Europe to co-ordinate the efforts of the Allies to decide a basis
for peace with France. He was charged with almost unlimited
discretion from the Cabinet and the Regent for this most
important role — a chance to make history. As John Anstey said to Lucy, 'You could see he felt this was the moment he
had been preparing himself for.’

The talks were held at Chatillon, while in the south-west of
France, Wellington still pushed forward, and to the north,
Bonaparte still marched and fought against the allied armies.
The talks were limited to the four powers of England, Russia,
Prussia and Austria, Castlereagh himself sweeping aside the
suggestion that America and Spain ought to be included. The
discussions not only covered the question of the frontiers
France should be allowed, but who was to head the French
Government. Obviously, Bonaparte must be removed; the
Regent and the English Cabinet wanted a restoration of the
Bourbons, but the Csar favoured other aspirants, and there
was some thought of allowing the Empress Marie Louise to
rule as regent for Bonaparte's son, the King of Rome. It was
essential that whoever was chosen should command the loyalty
of the French people, or any treaty made would not be worth
the paper it was written on.

Meanwhile Wellington had pressed on to Bordeaux, where
the people rose to proclaim the restoration of the Bourbon
line; and the allied armies were closing on Paris. On 29
March, Marie Louise and her son fled the capital; Bonaparte was still a hundred miles away, posting ahead of his army in
an attempt to reach Paris ahead of the Allies. On the thirtieth,
the Allies were fighting on the slopes of Montmartre, and at four o'clock in the afternoon, General Marmont, whom
Bonaparte had left in charge in his absence, opened talks
with the Csar. An armistice was arranged, the capitulation was signed, and the keys of the city were handed over, before Bonaparte had reached Fontainebleau.

On 1 April, the allied armies marched into Paris, led by
Csar Alexander and the King of Prussia, and the Senate
declared Bonaparte's abdication and the restoration of the
Bourbon line, in the person of Louis XVIII. The former
Emperor of half the world was to be given Elba for his new
kingdom, a tiny island off the coast of Tuscany, between
there and Corsica, where he had been born. His wife and son
were not allowed to go with him, but were placed in the
custody of her father, the Emperor of Austria. On 13 April,
Bonaparte, in despair, attempted to kill himself by taking
poison, but the attempt failed, and he recovered. On the
twenty-first, he was travelling under heavy guard to his place
of exile.

The news was greeted in London with almost as much
astonishment as relief and joy. It was over! The war was over,
and Bonaparte was deposed! It was incomprehensible that
there should no longer be a Corsican Tyrant to struggle against,
to threaten their security and take the lives of their men.

‘I can't imagine what peace will mean,' Lucy said to George
Brummell one day in May. 'How will we know it? Will it be
any different?'

‘
Hardly different at all, I should think, except for those poor unfortunates who have earned their livelihood in the
army or the navy. Don't you remember during the Peace of
Amiens, how the clubs were full of half-pay officers with
nothing to do?'

‘
Yes, I suppose the navy will be reduced again,' Lucy said.
‘But surely the army won't be broken up immediately?’

No, I should think there's bound to be an Army of Occupation to make sure the French behave themselves. Still, a large number will come home, you know, with back-pay to
spend, and a terrible hunger for green baize.’

He smiled at the thought, and Lucy looked at him sharply.
‘You mean, I suppose, to help lighten them of their load?’

He shrugged. 'They must lose to someone, so it had better
be me. I will do it so much more gracefully.'

‘
Of course you will, George.' She hesitated before going on.
‘I suppose things are all right with you? I know there have
been difficulties —'