‘You are tired, that’s all. Things will look better in the morning.’
‘They could not look worse.’ And then, seeing his surprise: ‘Forgive me. You are right, of course. I am tired. Don’t look so anxious, Charles. If we must go to the Czar’s ball I’ll do my best to act my part’
‘I knew I could count on you. And Sonia…you don’t think she’ll fly out into one of her wild starts?’
‘I hope not. But do remember, Charles, she’s only a child, hardly out of the nursery. And then, that shocking experience…’
‘That’s all very well.’ He locked the night’s takings safely away. ‘But even shocking experiences pass…even children must grow up in the end. You’ve had your troubles too, Elizabeth, and I don’t notice you having tantrums all the time.’
‘Give me time.’ There was something odd in her voice tonight. ‘I may come to it yet. Charles—’
‘Yes?’
‘Was I mad?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘To throw in our lot with you. I’ve often wondered whether you don’t regret it.’
‘I? Never. And you? I know it cannot suit you to play the merry widow night after night, but’—reasonably—‘what else could you have done?’
‘You’re right of course.’ Her voice was dull. ‘Goodnight, Charles. I won’t fail you at the ball tomorrow.’ Only, later, alone in her room, she gazed long and tearlessly at the reflection in her glass, remembering the young girl who had laughed there once. At last, savagely pulling down her long hair, ‘A merry widow,’ she told herself, ‘I wish I was dead.’
And yet, next day, she found herself not quite immune to the thrill of preparing for the ball. It was more years than she cared to remember since she had worn her midnight-blue ball gown, but it still fitted her perfectly and did wonders for her clear complexion and heavy auburn hair.
Sonia had never seen her in it. ‘Good God! Barry! You look’—she paused—‘different.’
‘Well, I should hope so. And you look like someone who is not going to be ready in time. Do you want to miss your first two dances with Mr Haverton?’
‘It’s the buttons. Did you ever see so many buttons?’
‘They make for an admirable fit.’ Elizabeth began dextrously to fasten tiny buttons up her pupil’s back. ‘There.’ She stood back to admire the finished effect. ‘I told you this silver grey would suit you. You look like an angel.’
‘An angel in mourning?’ Sonia had wanted silver tissue, and had bowed most unwillingly to councils of propriety. ‘Still.’ A smile for her reflection in the glass. ‘I suppose it could be worse. Shall I wear my pearls?’
‘Of course. There is nothing like a string of pearls to convey a suggestion of respectability.’
‘“Assume a virtue if you have it not?”’
‘Precisely. I am happy to find that our hours of Shakespeare have not been entirely wasted. And that reminds me—Charles is right, you know, about the waltzing. I am afraid we are very much in the position of Caesar’s wife. Suspicion must not touch us. You really like this life, do you not, of balls and cards, parades and morning calls?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Very well, then. Don’t hazard it. If anyone starts asking questions about us, we are finished. And reputation once lost—well…’ An expressive shrug finished the sentence.
‘Oh, my poor Barry, do you wish you had never met me?’
‘I wish we were safe in England, and all well.’
‘Dismal creature.’ Sonia made a face at her. ‘But never worry yourself about me. I shall amaze you tonight. While the others are waltzing. I shall imitate Aunt Gertrude in a corner.’ She made a face so like her aunt’s that Elizabeth could not help laughing.
They were in high spirits and the greatest charity with each other when they joined Charles Vincent, and his gift of two charmingly arranged bouquets of hothouse flowers added the finishing touch at least to Sonia’s pleasure.
He was quick to recognise the hint of doubt in Elizabeth’s voice as she thanked him. ‘Don’t worry; this is not next week’s rent; I made a little killing this morning. Haverton and I took on a couple of fat Prussians whose brains, I think, must have been in their stomachs. You will find Haverton is my dearest friend. Just as well, I think. From all I hear, that guardian of his is a perfect dragon. I do not want to fall foul of him if I can help it.’
‘Denbigh?’ Quick anxiety in Elizabeth’s voice. ‘Is he better? Does he attend the ball?’
‘No. I am not quite sure, from what Haverton said, whether his indisposition is genuine or diplomatic, but it is certain that he stays home tonight. He is not, his cousin says, a great attender of balls. In England, he lives entirely in the country with a starched puritanical tyrant of an older sister. It’s as good as a play, Haverton says, to see how he is enjoying his liberty on this mission. Well, are we ready?’
‘You’ve forgotten something.’ Sonia had been prowling restlessly about the room.
‘Oh?’
‘To tell us how well we look.’
‘I beg your pardon.’ A caricature of a deep bow for each of them. ‘Ladies…words fail me—’
‘They don’t usually.’ Tart disappointment in Sonia’s voice.
‘Never mind, Rapunzel. Just wait till young Haverton sees you; he’ll supply the compliments in which I am so woefully deficient. Remember, I’m a mere cousin—When did your brother notice your clothes?’
‘Never. But you’re not my brother—not even my cousin, thank God.’
‘How deeply I agree with you. But come, Cinderella, the carriage is waiting.’ And then, as Sonia flounced out of the room first, to Elizabeth: ‘May I congratulate you on the effect you have achieved—both the effects?’
‘Thank you. But why not gratify the poor child?’
‘She’ll have gratification enough, before the evening is over.’
He was right. The Russians had cast their net wide in sending out their invitations and the Assembly Rooms were full of plump merchants’ daughters, so bejewelled and beribboned that Vincent whispered to Elizabeth it was hard to believe the tales they had heard about Germany’s impoverishment at Napoleon’s hands. Some of these girls were handsome enough, in a bold and buxom way, but there was no one, as Haverton lost no time in telling her, to hold a candle to Sonia. ‘Or to Mrs Barrymore, if it comes to that. How glad I am that I took the precaution of securing dances with both of you in advance: You are going to find yourselves the belles of the ball.’
It was true, and inevitable. The two Grand Duchesses, though both charming girls, were beings set apart; Lady Burgersh had eyes only for her husband; Sonia and Elizabeth found themselves the most eligible unmarried ladies in the room. Or rather, Elizabeth reminded herself ruefully, in the world’s eyes, Sonia was the only unmarried lady. She, like the Duchess of Oldenbourg, was a widow. She must not forget. Vincent helped to remind her as they moved through the march-like polonaise together. ‘You will waltz with me? It will seem odd, I think, if you do not.’
At all costs they must avoid seeming odd; it was what she herself had told Sonia earlier that evening. ‘You think so?’
‘I’m sure of it. And I’m equally sure you waltz to perfection.’
‘It seems hard on Sonia.’
‘No need to worry about her. She sits it out with Haverton, having already given him his share of dances.’
‘Oh?’ Her voice was doubtful.
‘You may well say, “Oh.” Do you think there is anything in it?’
‘I devoutly hope not.’
‘I too. She would drive him distracted in six months. She needs a man to manage her, not a pretty boy like that. Look at her now.’
She was dancing and flirting outrageously with old Blücher. ‘It was bound to go to her head.’ Elizabeth’s voice was pleading.
Vincent was watching Haverton who was making his purposeful way towards them through the crowd. ‘Of course,’ he said almost absent-mindedly. ‘Within reason. Ther
e is something going on. Have you noticed?’
‘Noticed what?’
‘The Czar has disappeared—and so has Schwartzenberg, and Lord Aberdeen.’
‘Are you sure? There’s such a crowd of different uniforms, I don’t see how you can tell. The Czar was here a few minutes ago; I saw him dancing with Lady Burgersh.’
‘He’s gone now. Ah—Haverton, how are you?’
‘All the better for the news.’ He made his bow to Elizabeth. ‘Have you heard?’
‘No—what?’ Vincent had left Elizabeth to ask the inevitable question and was making an elaborate pantomime of indifference. Turned half away to pick a sprig from one of the orange trees with which the rooms were decorated, he was, she knew, listening with all his attention.
‘The very best. The long delay is over. The armies are to march at last.’
‘I find it hard to believe.’ Vincent tucked the twig carefully into a buttonhole. ‘You will tell me next that they have decided which way to go.’
‘Well, that does seem to be the difficulty. It is an open secret that the Austrians want to cut across Switzerland—but the Czar won’t hear of it. He’s full of scruples, you know, about neutrality and so forth.’
‘It does him credit,’ said Elizabeth warmly.
‘I suppose so, in a way, but those Swiss—they think they can go on forever running with the hare and hunting with the hounds.’
‘All they want is peace and a quiet life.’
He laughed. ‘Don’t we all. But they are striking up for the country dances. You have not forgot your promise, ma’am.’
‘Indeed, no. I only hope I have not forgotten the figures.’
‘You will remember soon enough. Do you dance, Vincent?’
‘Alas, I cannot. I was just making my apologies to Mrs Barrymore. I have to leave town on urgent business—my cousin, you know’—this for Elizabeth. ‘You are arrived most timely, Haverton, since I was going to seek you out and ask if you would be so good as to see my cousins safely home when the ball is over.’
‘Of course I will,’ Haverton coloured with pleasure and took Elizabeth’s hand to lead her out to the dance.
She paused for a moment to give Vincent one wry, expressive glance. ‘You forgot to tell me when we might expect you back. It is The Magic Flute the day after tomorrow. Sonia has her heart set on going.’
‘I will do my best to be back.’ His warm, approving smile conveyed his gratitude for the way she had picked up her cue. ‘But I am sure Haverton will escort you if I find myself unable to get here in time.’
‘I shall be only too happy. And now, Mrs Barrymore, let me remind you. It is the simplest thing in the world: a whole figure at the top, hay on your side, set and half right and left, chase round one couple, swing corners and a half poussette.’
‘And you call that the simplest thing in the world!’ But they were facing each other now, ready to begin the dance, and she must forget her puzzlement over Vincent’s sudden departure and concentrate on following Haverton’s energetic lead. Dutifully turning away from him for the hay, she thought that it was impossible to help liking him. But Vincent was right, he was hardly the man to keep her irrepressible Sonia in order. She met her now, coming up the dance flushed and entrancing. Sonia held her hand for an extra moment as they turned each other: ‘Where’s Charles?’
‘Gone. I don’t know where. Haverton takes us home.’
‘Oh, fiddle!’ One of her all too expressive grimaces, and she was gone, with a little skip to regain her place. Elizabeth moved on in her own direction, smiling to herself. That had hardly been the reaction of a girl in love. But—where had Charles gone?
It was a question that she and Sonia were to ask each other many times in the next few days. She had half expected to find a note from him when they got home, explaining his sudden decision, but there had been no word. The servant reported that he had come home, changed into riding dress, hung a tiny cloak bag behind his saddle and ridden away into the night.
‘I hope he left us some money.’ Sonia returned to the question over a late breakfast next morning.
‘Not a great deal—but enough for a few days. He said he might be back tomorrow.’
‘And you believed him? Had you thought he might not come back at all? And a pretty pickle we’d be in then. And—besides; what if Headquarters move before he returns. All the talk, last night, was of an advance at last. We are going to invade by way of Switzerland, Philip says.’
‘Philip?’
‘Mr Haverton, if you prefer. Poor thing—how I torment him! He is dying to present me to that guardian of his he’s so much in awe of. I can’t think why—a worn-out hypochondriac. I wonder what Government were thinking of to send him. Though I’m glad they did, of course, since he brought Philip—Mr Haverton, I mean.’
‘I wish I knew what you did mean, Sonia.’
‘Why, to enjoy myself, of course. Don’t pull your long face at me, Barry. Come, admit, I deserve a little pleasure in my life. As for Phil—Mr Haverton, he can take care of himself, I am sure. And admit, it’s useful to have him at our beck and call now Vincent has left us in the lurch. What would we have done last night, else?’
‘I am sure Charles would not have left us if he had not been sure we would be well taken care of.’
‘I wish I had your confidence. You’ll change your tune if you find he’s left us here, high and dry. After all, what do we know about him?’
‘Very little; it’s quite true.’
‘Too little by half. Have you noticed how different he has been since he met that cousin of his in Weimar? Odd starts, and disappearing for hours at a time, and—I don’t know—just different, somehow.’
‘Yes, I have wondered whether perhaps he had something on his mind. His debt to his cousin, perhaps. You must admit that meeting was very timely for us all.’
‘Too timely. I tell you, Barry, I’m beginning to wonder if there isn’t something very havey-cavey about Charles Vincent—and whatever he’s doing, remember, we’re involved in it. We’re his cover, you know, and a very useful one too… Have you noticed how often, when the talk turns to politics, he lets us do the talking—and how closely he listens. If he’s not a secret agent, I’ll eat my new bonnet.’
‘You’d better not. If you are right in your suspicions, it may be the last you have for a while. After all, Sonia, say what you will about Charles, he’s been supporting us for over a month now.’
‘Yes—and very pretty that is going to look when we get back to England and it comes out that we are no more his cousins than the man in the moon’s. Have you thought of that, oh wise and considerate Barry?’
Elizabeth sighed. ‘Have I not! But Sonia, what else could we have done?’
Sonia crossed the room to give her a quick hug. ‘Don’t look so grave, Barry; I only meant to tease you. I’m sure we were right to do what we did, and, after all, if the worst comes to the worst, I can always marry Philip.’
‘On the strength of two days’ acquaintance?’
‘Why not, if they’ve done his business? Why else do you think he wants me to meet his fierce old cousin? So take that anxious look off your face, Barry dear, they’ll look after us if Charles does not return.’
‘I hope to God he does,’ said Elizabeth with so much emphasis that Sonia gave her a quick, anxious glance.
‘What’s the matter, Barry? Are you still not feeling well? It’s not like you to take things so hard.’
‘I’m blue-devilled, that’s all.’ She managed a lightness she was very far from feeling. Please God she would never have to explain…
Chapter Six
‘May I come in, sir? Or are you busy?’ Philip Haverton pushed open the door of Denbigh’s study, stamping snow off his boots as he came. ‘I wish you could come out,’ he went on. ‘The sun’s out at last and you should just see it glitter on the snow. Besides, Cousin Elinor said I must see you got plenty of fresh air and exercise, and you know you have done nothing but write,
write, write ever since we got here. But do I interrupt you?’
‘You seem to have done so.’ Denbigh put down his pen and leaned back to look quizzically up at his young companion. ‘What’s the news in town?’
‘The very best. Everyone says the armies are to march at last.’
‘You said that the other night when you came back from the Czar’s ball.’
‘I know, but this time it’s true. Something has convinced the Czar that the Swiss must be made to let the Allies pass through their country.’
‘Has it indeed? Now I wonder what?’ He sanded and sealed the letter he had been writing and rose from his desk to tower half a head above his slender cousin. ‘He seemed set against it, last time I saw him. But it’s certainly good news if it is true.’
‘I am sure it is. I have it from a most reliable source.’
‘Oh? And who might that be?’
‘My friend Charles Vincent. You know—I told you of him the other day. He is but yesterday returned from Basel and says the negotiations have begun already.’
‘Does he so? And what kind of a man is he, pray?’
‘Oh, complete to a degree. It’s surprising, too, because he’s nothing much to look at. Wears his hair any old how—plain coats—almost shabby, you could say, and yet, no getting away from it, there’s something about him. He’s only my age, if that—never been to a university—no tour—nothing. And yet, somehow, people listen to him. I wish I knew how he does it.’
‘By having something to say, perhaps?’
‘Well, that, of course. He’s the best-informed man in town, Stewart says. Half English, half French; speaks I don’t know how many languages; a most remarkable man. I heard a rumour, this morning, that the Czar is interesting himself in him.’
Denbigh laughed. ‘You’re a wonder for rumours, Philip. But I had heard one too. That your Vincent has a very pretty cousin.’ His glance sharpened as Philip coloured up to the eyes. ‘Oh, Philip, not again…’
‘You just wait till you see her, Giles. She’s…she’s…this is quite different from anything else. I wish you would let me make you known to them.’
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