The Victory (59 page)

‘
John,' she said. 'What a pleasant surprise. How is Louisa,
and the children?'

‘
They are very well. We are hoping for another addition in
June.'

‘
How delightful,' she said politely, and seating herself on
the sopha, looked at him enquiringly. 'What brings you to
Town?'

‘It cannot have escaped your notice that Mr Pitt is dead?'

‘
Oh — no,' she said vaguely. 'Of course I knew. And what
is to happen now? There is not another man of his stature in
the country.'

‘
You are forgetting Charles Fox,' Anstey said with a wry
smile.

‘
The King will never accept him,' Lucy said. 'But I suppose
the Tories are vanquished and we shall have the Whigs in at
last?'

‘
Not precisely,' Anstey replied. 'Grenville is the only man
capable of drawing together all the threads of opposition, and
commanding the respect of Parliament. He is to see the King
today and offer to form a Government, but only on condition
that Fox is a part of it.'

‘Bold words. And you think the King will agree?'

‘
I think even the King will see that he has to. It is to be a
party combining all the talents, wisdom and ability of the
nation, including the new Whigs, the old Whigs, and all the
Tories except Pitt's closest adherents.'

‘And Fox is to lead it,' Lucy said cynically.

‘
He is to be Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs,' Anstey
admitted.

‘And he will doubtless be looking for peace with Napoleon.'
Anstey shrugged. 'It's clear we cannot beat him on the
continent. We saw that back in '02.'

‘
And we saw in '03 what Boney means by peace,' Lucy said
with her first kindling of emotion he had seen in her. 'Can't
you people understand that he is not to be trusted, that the
only way to live in the world with him is to defeat him? If he
agrees to peace, it will only be to give himself time to rebuild
his fleet, and then Trafalgar will have been fought for
nothing.'

‘
No, never that,' Anstey said quickly. 'Trafalgar gave us
the strength of position to treat for peace on our terms.'

‘
If you believe that, you are a fool,' she said, and then,
appearing to feel she had spoken rudely, she made an obvious
effort to be social. 'Have you heard from little John?'

‘
Oh yes, we've had several letters since Trafalgar, telling us
all about the battle,' Anstey said. 'Did you know that Admiral
Collingwood was wounded, by the way? He took a pretty bad
splinter wound in the leg, but made light of it, and wouldn't
allow his name to be included in the list of wounded. He is
pretty well John's hero now!'

‘He could not want a better,' said Lucy. Anstey saw how
her face had gained a little animation in the last few minutes,
and hoped to build on it.

‘
John says he is so pleasant to the young officers,' he went
on. 'He was joking with John about his little dog, Bounce,
saying that now he has become a right honourable dog, he is
grown too proud and above his station. He is afraid that when
they go on shore, he'll refuse to talk to ordinary dogs.’

Lucy smiled a little. 'And where are they now?'

‘
Still blockading Cadiz. I suppose we shan't be seeing him
for many a long month yet.'

‘
Surely he'll come home when Collingwood hauls down his
flag? He always meant to retire this spring, and now that
there is no danger from the French fleet ...’

Anstey shook his head. 'The Admiralty won't let him retire.
They can't afford to. Barham's going, you know, now that
Pitt's gone. Lord Grey is to be the new First Lord —'

‘What!'

‘
Oh yes — who else is there? But with Nelson dead, Calder
in disgrace, Cornwallis retiring, and St Vincent going out to
take his place, we simply can't spare Collingwood. He'll be
persuaded to stay on, at least for a couple of years.'

‘
Poor Coll!' Lucy said, and the contemplation of his weari
ness seemed to tire her. The animation drained out of her
face, and she looked so worn that Anstey stood up at once.

‘
I must take my leave. Thank you for seeing me.' She stood too, and he took her offered hand and held it a moment. 'You
will remember I am your old friend, if you should need me,
won't you, Lucy?'

‘
I'll remember,' she said. 'I'm all right, John.' But her eyes were turned away from his, looking into the middle distance
with that blank look that he had seen in men brought out of
the ground after pit accidents.

*

On an unexpectedly mild morning in February, Roberta, returning home across St James's Square with her maid,
Sands, encountered Lord Aylesbury and Mr Knaresborough
strolling arm in arm, the latter resplendent in a new pair of
pale fawn pantaloons and short, tasselled Hessian boots
shined to dazzling-point. The gentlemen stopped, and his
lordship embraced her affectionately, while Mr Knares
borough bowed so low as to present her only with the scarlet
tips of his ears.

‘
Roberta, my dear girl, what are you doing in Town?'
Chetwyn enquired cheerfully. 'It's early — there's hardly
anyone here yet.'

‘
I'm opening up Chelmsford House,' she replied. 'Héloïse is
coming up tomorrow for the Season. We are going to bring
out Mathilde together with a grand ball at the end of March.'

‘
Quite right — always give either the first or the last ball of
the Season,' Chetwyn grinned. 'Anything else is mediocre.
But the end of March is six weeks away.'

‘
My dear Aylesbury,' Roberta said severely, 'you surely
cannot think that Lady Strathord and Lady Chelmsford would
sponsor a young woman without ensuring that she had a
proper wardrobe?'

‘
Of course — foolish of me! That will take quite six weeks, I
am sure,' Chetwyn murmured.

‘
And then,' Roberta went on firmly, 'we shall have to intro
duce her to the principle hostesses at a series of private
parties.'

‘Do you think she'll take?' Chetwyn asked with interest.

‘
I really can't tell,' Roberta said. 'She's a good girl, with
pretty manners, but she's rather shy. Come along tomorrow
and meet her, and give me your opinion.'

‘
Of course we shall — we'd be delighted,' Chetwyn said.
'What a charming Season we are going to have! Chelmsford
House open again, you bringing out a new young protégée,
Robert's coming of age ... He will be twenty-one in May, you
know. We're planning the biggest, most splendid celebration
ever seen in London! Dinner, grand ball, fireworks, and
probably a Venetian breakfast to follow. The only problem is
that we can't decide where to hold it. I suppose we couldn't
borrow Chelmsford House from you for the occasion?'

‘
Really, Aylesbury, I don't know what to say —' Roberta
began, deeply embarrassed, and Chetwyn laughed.

‘
It's all right — I was teasing you. But now, tell me, what
do you think of the new style?’

He waved a ringmaster's hand at Robert, whose blush
escaped the confines of his ears and spread over his face as
well. Roberta looked at him with mingled amusement and
sympathy. He had grown up in the last three years, filling out
from a rather gawky boy into a tall and well-built young man.
His spots had disappeared, and his carriage and air were
greatly improved. He was really, she thought, exceedingly
good-looking, with glossy brown hair cut in the latest crop,
regular features, and the high colour of health in his cheeks.
His eyes were large and surrounded by distractingly long
eyelashes, his teeth were even and white, and if it weren't for
something rather soft about his mouth, she would have found
him very attractive.

That was no reason, she caught herself up sharply, for
staring the poor child out of countenance. 'What new style?'
she asked quickly. 'What are you talking about?'

‘
Why, these pantaloons, of course, and the Hessians,
instead of breeches and topboots. Admirable, don't you think? Of course, the problem is that the pantaloons wrinkle so when
one has been wearing them for a while. The only way to avoid wrinkles seems to be a certain unnatural stiffness of gait.'

‘
And do you think that is a
fair
price to pay for fashion?'
Roberta asked, trying not to smile.

‘
How severe you are! You must let us poor peacocks strut a little. Wrinkles or not, this is going to be the thing, you know,
from now on. In a year's time, breeches will be as
passé as
powdering. I'm thinking of making the change myself. I have
the calves for it — a better calf even than young Robert,
here,' he added, slapping the back of Knaresborough's leg
amiably with his walking stick. 'How do you think I would
look, dear Lady Chelmsford?'

‘
Ridiculous,' Roberta said firmly. 'By my advice you will
save your money. But where are you off to, now?'

‘
We were just going to Jermyn Street, to Roberts and
Parfitt, to see about a dress-sword for Robert,' Chetwyn said.
'He will need one, you know, for his presentation.’

Roberta nodded. 'My poor Charles always went to Grey
and Constable, in Sackville Street.'

‘
And so do I,' Chetwyn smiled, 'but that would not do for
Robert. He has a mind of his own, you see!’

Roberta, glancing at the handsome, silent, blushing young
man, thought that that was the last thing she would have
supposed he had. 'I hope you find something you like,' she
said politely. 'And now I really must go. I haven't interviewed
my cook yet, and Héloïse being used to her Monsieur
Barnard's cooking, he will have his work cut out. Goodbye —
I will see you tomorrow, I hope?’

She left them bowing, and walked on thoughtfully.

*

They appeared at Chelmsford House the following morning
at the polite hour for calling, and were received by the two ladies, together with Mathilde and the young Lord Chelms
¬ ford, who was now nine years old. Roberta saw with mixed
amusement and exasperation that Chetwyn, too, was now
sporting the new pantaloons and filling them, as promised,
excellently. Héloïse, having stared at him in astonishment
while the greetings were performed, addressed the matter
with her usual frankness.

‘
But what is this, Lord Aylesbury? Is it a joke? You look like
a
drôle enfin!'

‘
How very rude you are,' Chetwyn said admiringly. 'But
you have been so long in the country, you won't know about
the new fashions.'