“Of course,” she was saying, “I don’t really admire Lady Lillian myself. She is too exotic for my liking and I am glad to say that my husband thinks the same, but the lady whom the Duke of Wellington finds charming is very different.”
“Who is she?” Alecia managed to ask.
“Her name is Mrs. Marianne Patterson,” Mrs. Belton replied, delighted to go on talking. “She and her two sisters are American and are known as ‘The Three Graces,’ and I can tell you a lot of other women are very envious of them.”
“American!” Alecia exclaimed in surprise.
“Yes, they come from Baltimore and are the great- granddaughters of a multi-millionaire, Charles Caton.”
“I have never met an American,” Alecia said.
Then she thought perhaps that was an indiscreet thing to say since Charis was certain to have met quite a number in London.
“Well, I am sure you will find the three sisters very charming,” Mrs. Belton said, “but I am rather doubtful about Lady Lillian.”
“Now you are making me nervous!” Alecia exclaimed.
Mrs. Belton laughed and replied,
“I cannot believe from all I have heard about you. Lady Charis, that anything would make you nervous!”
They reached Dover at about five o’clock and the ship was waiting at the quayside.
It seemed to Alecia quite large and at the same time she was worried as to whether she would be a good or a bad sailor, having never been to sea before.
One thing she had not expected was that with their luggage there were several large wicker hampers and, when she enquired what they were, she was told that they contained food.
“Food!” she exclaimed. “But why?”
“We should take only three to five hours crossing the Channel, but we might be becalmed,” the Courier explained. “On one of my journeys the packet was becalmed for three days and I have known of cases where passengers were forced to stay in the middle of the Channel for up to eleven days.”
This was something that had never occurred to Alecia and instead of hoping for a completely calm sea with no wind, she hoped that they would be blown in the right direction as quickly as possible.
As soon as the ship left the quayside Mrs. Belton went to her cabin, saying that she was a bad sailor and could tolerate the sea only when she was lying down.
Alecia found it a relief after so much chatter to be able first of all to watch the ship move out of harbour and then to go to her own cabin where Sarah, her lady’s maid, was unpacking everything she would need for the night.
The dinner, at which there was no sign of Mrs. Belton, having been provided for by Lord Kiniston, was delicious and to Alecia’s mind very rich.
There was a pâté, cold chicken stuffed in a delicious manner, cutlets of baby lamb covered in aspic and lavender and delicately flavoured with herbs.
As desert there was fresh fruit, which she learnt from Mr. Hunt came from Kiniston Hall and to drink there was a white wine followed by a claret of which Alecia took only a sip, but knew how much her father would have appreciated it.
After she had eaten what she thought was a very large meal, she went to bed and the next morning it was a relief to find that she had slept peacefully and was only woken early by the noise on deck.
A little after dinner Mr. Hunt knocked on her door and told her that they had crossed the Channel without any difficulties and would be in Calais harbour in about an hour.
This gave Alecia time to dress, eat the breakfast that was brought to her and be standing on deck to have her first sight of a French town.
Calais did not disappoint her, although Mr. Hunt said scornfully that it was not a particularly impressive Port.
It was not until they had actually docked that Mrs. Belton appeared looking rather pale and, although she had not been sick, she had spent an uncomfortable night disliking every movement of the ship.
There was so much that Alecia would have liked to see in the streets of Calais – the people, the children, the tall houses with their shuttered windows, but Mr. Hunt hurried them into carriages that were waiting for them.
Alecia saw that they had drivers wearing British uniforms and outriders who were also soldiers, two for each carriage, who went ahead as lookouts in case of any trouble on the road.
Soon Mrs. Belton was feeling well enough to chatter again and Alecia found herself not listening to what she was saying, but gazing out of the window.
Having heard so many terrible stories of the plight of France under Napoleon, she was surprised to see how much of the land was being cultivated and how the crops appeared to have been well planted and were springing up in the warm sunshine.
At the same time she was aware that there were few men, unless they were very old or children to be seen, and that the work was being done by the women.
‘War is wrong and wicked,’ she thought and remembered that Mrs. Belton had warned her not to say such things to Lord Kiniston.
They stayed the night at a Posting inn South of St. Omer and set out very early the next morning so that they would reach their destination by nightfall.
It was, however, dusk before Mrs. Belton exclaimed with satisfaction that they were on the outskirts of Cambrai and in a few minutes would see the château where Lord Kiniston was staying, which was nearer to them than the Duke of Wellington’s.
It was then Alecia realised that she was stiff from sitting so long and tired of travelling and of Mrs. Belton’s unceasing chatter.
She kept saying over and over again how many women had loved Lord Kiniston, which was obviously a subject that fascinated her.
Because the mere idea of him frightened Alecia, she did not want to listen to what he had done or who had interested him before she actually saw him.
She was still finding it hard to understand why he should have wanted Charis to come out to him in France, making it, in her estimation at any rate an order that could not be refused.
‘If he has Lady Lillian and a number of other women, it seems extraordinary that he should bother himself over a young girl who has been his Ward for over a year since her father’s death without his paying any attention to her,’ Alecia argued to herself.
She supposed when she reached Cambrai that she would learn all the answers, but for the moment it all seemed incomprehensible.
Yet now, feeling rather tired after so arduous a journey, she could understand that if Charis had been in her rightful place, she would have resented it as every mile took her farther and farther away from Harry.
It was like stepping into another world and leaving behind everything that was familiar.
‘I shall have to play my part skilfully so that Lord Kiniston will never suspect,’ Alecia told herself.
At the same time, although Charis had told her that when everything was clear she could return, she was going to manage to do so without Lord Kiniston’s help.
She had the terrifying feeling that he might be so angry that he would refuse to give her a Courier or provide her with an Army escort such as she had at the moment.
Mrs. Belton had already related to her horrifying stories of the way travellers in France had been robbed not only of their baggage but even of their clothes.
The French were still suffering from the food shortage they had endured towards the end of the War when every available man had been called up by Napoleon and there was no one to see to the crops.
‘I am sure that somebody will be kind to me,’ Alecia thought consolingly.
Equally, because Charis had made everything sound so easy, she had not anticipated how difficult the journey would be or really how long it would take.
Then, as the sun was sinking on the horizon turning the sky to gold and crimson, she saw in front of her a very attractive château.
Surrounded by trees, it was typically French and in front of it, as they drew a little nearer, she could see a formal garden with a fountain playing, its water iridescent in the last rays of the sun.
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It was so pretty that she felt after travelling for so long that it was almost like a happy omen.
Then she told herself that this was where the real test began, and she had to be very much on her guard and very careful of what she said.
“We are here!” Mrs. Belton proclaimed. “I must say, I am not only thankful that the journey is over, but I am prepared to say a prayer of gratitude that we have not been involved in any unpleasantness. It’s no use your thinking the French like having an Army of Occupation, they dislike it very much!”
“Yes – of course,” Alecia murmured. “I am sure that no one – whoever they may be, wants to be conquered and humiliated.”
The carriage drew up outside the château and at the top of a flight of steps there were a number of servants, while on either side of the steps stood sentries on duty, who presented arms as they stepped out of the carriage.
Mrs. Belton went ahead and at the top of the steps a senior servant appeared with an aide-de-camp.
“It’s good to see you, Mrs. Belton,” the aide-de- camp said. “We were afraid that you might be delayed and his Lordship has already gone to dress for dinner.”
“I suppose we are a little late,” Mrs. Belton replied, “but we are here and let me present you to Lady Charis Langley.”
“I have been looking forward to meeting you, my Lady,” the aide-de-camp smiled.
Alecia, seeing the admiration in his eyes and realising that he held her hand a little longer than was necessary, thought that Charis’s reputation had obviously preceded her and the aide-de-camp was thinking of the success she had enjoyed in London.
“I know his Lordship will want to hold back dinner for you, but not for longer than is necessary,” the aide- de-camp was saying. “So I will have you shown immediately to your rooms and I am sure you will be as quick as is humanly possible in the circumstances.”
“We will do our best,” Mrs. Belton said, “but I feel as if it will take hours to wash away the dust and grime from the journey!”
The housekeeper appeared at the top of the stairs, and having curtseyed to them politely, a little lower to Alecia than to Mrs. Belton, she led them to their rooms.
Almost immediately the luggage was brought upstairs.
As Alecia bathed, the new maid with whom she had exchanged only a few words on board ship found her a gown to wear that had not been crushed by the journey.
There was another maid to assist her own and yet another to prepare a bath scented with verbena in which Alecia would have liked to lie luxuriously to soak away the fatigue of the journey.
But she knew that she must do nothing of the sort unless she wished to offend her Guardian before she had even met him.
She was perceptive enough to realise from the way the aide-de-camp had spoken and the haste with which they had been escorted upstairs that his Lordship did not like waiting for his meals and resented it if they were in fact delayed for even a short time.
‘I must hurry!’ Alecia thought.
She felt it would have been far more sensible if she and Mrs. Belton could have retired to bed and she could have faced what was waiting for her tomorrow.
Instead she was helped into one of the prettiest gowns she possessed and her hair was skilfully arranged in the style that Charis had told her was the very latest fashion.
Carrying a reticule to match her gown, she hurried downstairs escorted by a servant, who had been waiting for her outside her door until she was ready.
Now was the moment that she had feared ever since leaving home would be frightening and extremely embarrassing.
‘I have to remember I am Charis,’ she told herself.
As she walked across the marble hall, she was praying that she would not make any mistakes nor appear as she felt, shy and a little gauche.
‘I am Charis! I am Charis!’ she said to herself over and over again.
The Major Domo, who had taken over from the servant who had led her down the stairs, walked ahead to fling open the doors leading to what Alecia guessed would be the most prestigious salon in the château.
“Lady Charis Langley, my Lord!” he announced in stentorian tones.
For a moment everything swam in front of Alecia’s eyes and the room seemed to be full of people, so that it was impossible to distinguish anyone amongst them.
Then a man detached himself slowly from those who stood around the fireplace at the far end and, moving towards her under the light of the crystal chandeliers, she saw someone very tall and broad-shouldered and knew that this was Lord Kiniston, her supposed Guardian.
It took her a moment to raise her eyes and focus them on his face.
He was quite different from what she had expected and yet at the same time, exactly how Charis had thought he would be and Mrs. Belton had described him.
Overwhelming and authoritative with a sharp and penetrating eye, and to Alecia’s mind, definitely very frightening.
Chapter three
Some ten days before Alecia’s arrival in Cambrai, Lord Kiniston was sitting writing at a desk in an attractive small salon that overlooked the garden when the door opened.
He glanced up and then gave an exclamation of delight as he said,
“You are back, Willy! Thank God for that!”
Major William Lygon came into the salon, closing the door behind him.
He was a tall good-looking man with a somewhat raffish air and twinkling eyes that endeared him to everybody he met.
“Yes, I am back, Drogo,” he said. “Has anything exciting happened while I have been away?”
“Nothing,” Lord Kiniston replied, moving from behind the desk to stand in front of the marble fireplace while Major Lygon lowered himself into a comfortable armchair.
“I can hardly believe that,” he said as he did so, “but you missed a great deal of amusement in London and I am not particularly excited about being back in this godforsaken place!”
“There is plenty of work for you to do,” Lord Kiniston remarked laconically. “The Great Man has been tightening things up because the French have complained that some of our men are unruly.”
“Good God, can you blame them?” Willy Lygon asked. “But you will be glad to hear that I travelled with four couples of hounds and a spaniel for the Duke’s collection and I am told that three stags and three does will be on their way in a week.”
“Good Lord!” Lord Kiniston ejaculated. “At the same time I hear that he is determined on having boar hunts based on the principles of pig sticking at which he excelled while he was in India.”
“What more can you ask for?” Willy Lygon enquired sarcastically.
“I can ask only that the Great Man will confine himself to sport.”
The way Lord Kiniston spoke and the innuendo in his voice made his friend look at him curiously.
They had been at Eton together and after a short time at Oxford University had joined the same Regiment on the same day.
But Lord Kiniston had swept up the ladder of success far quicker than William Lygon, who had not worried about it in the least.
He liked life to be comfortable and was too good-humoured to envy anyone or, for that matter, to become involved in a quarrel of any sort.
He had a deep affection for Drogo Kiniston and now he looked at him curiously as he asked,
“What has the Great Man been doing to you?”
“Trying to get me married!” Lord Kiniston said frankly.
Willy sat upright in his armchair.
“I don’t believe it!”
“It’s true!”
“But – why? And to whom?”
Lord Kiniston paused for a moment before he replied,
“You will remember before you went away that he was obviously infatuated with Marianne Patterson?”
“Yes, of course,” Willy murmured.
“Well, in his usual manner of giving advice and helping pretty women, which we all realise has become one of his pleasures, he has vowed to find husbands for her tw
o unmarried sisters.”
“And he has chosen you as a bridegroom?” Willy asked mockingly. “I don’t believe it!”
“He is making it pretty obvious that he expects me to propose to Elizabeth,” Lord Kiniston replied, “and Louisa is being reserved for Felton-Hervey.”
“Do you mean to say the perfect aide-de-camp is going to be caught at last?”
“I think so,” Lord Kiniston replied seriously. “With the Duke pushing him hard he will find it very difficult to escape.”
“And what are you going to do about it?”
“I was hoping you could tell me that,” Lord Kiniston answered. “I suppose you don’t feel like entering the matrimonial stakes yourself?”
“I do not!” Willy said firmly. “Besides, ‘The Three Graces’ would not consider me distinguished or rich enough. I was told confidentially that each one of them is determined to win a coronet.”
“Hervey will have one eventually,” Lord Kiniston remarked.
“And you have one already, which will be one up for Elizabeth, if she pulls it off!”
“Dammit all!” Lord Kiniston said angrily. “I will not be forced up the aisle by anybody, not even the Great Man himself! If the worse comes to the worst, I shall resign!”
“You cannot do that!” Willy said quickly. “I was told the moment I got back that there is increasing hostility towards the Occupation and I also heard that King Louis implored Wellington to remain in Paris, when he was there, as a prop to his Government.”
“I heard that too,” Lord Kiniston answered, “but the British Cabinet thinks he is safer here at Cambrai.”
“I suppose that is true,” Willy said reflectively.
“Personally, I think they are fussing unnecessarily,” Lord Kiniston continued. “The Duke said to me the other day that he wished that the British Cabinet would put aside the idea that he was eager to be assassinated by a French mob.”
“Well, nobody wants that,” Willy smiled, “and, if there is any chance of the Duke or you being attacked, then you must stay here, dull though it may be. By the way, how is Lady Lillian?”
There was a perceptible pause before Lord Kiniston replied,
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