That settled, he took his usual precautions for obscuring his departure from Paris, changed out of uniform into civilian clothes and made his way to a village near Dieppe, from where one of his old smuggler friends, for a good round sum in gold, put him safely across one dark night to Dungeness.
In London he spent several nights with Droopy Ned, and again frequented White's, of which he was a member. As opposed to Brook's, the stronghold of the Foxites just across the road, most of the members of the Club were ardent Tories. Many of them had been among Pitt's staunchest supporters and had been sorry to sec him go but, almost to a man, they were now behind Addison in his conviction that Britain should agree to make peace provided Bonaparte's terms were not too unreasonable.
Two days before Christmas Roger went down to Stillwaters with a load of toys for the children and handsome presents for Georgina, her husband and her father. Again it proved a royally happy festive season. Having seen in the New Year of 1802 there, on January 2nd both Georgina and Roger removed to London. He again occupied his room in Amesbury House, but most nights it was not until the early hours of the morning that he left Georgina's big bed to be carried back from Berkeley Square to Arlington Street in a sedan chair preceded by a running footman holding aloft a smoking flambeau.
By the end of January it was the longest period they had spent together for several years and. far from tiring of one another, they revelled in each other's company. So often the same thoughts came to them at the same time, they laughed hilariously together at the same absurd trifles, and spent such joyous nights in each other's arms that, at the end of the month, both of them were most loath to relinquish their intimate and perfect companionship. In consequence, although it was Georgina's custom to spend the whole of the Spring at Stillwaters, she agreed to come to London again early in March.
Roger spent February in Brighton. The town had not yet become the favourite resort of all England's fashionable world, but the day was not far distant when it would have its Royal Pavilion, the splendid terraces facing the esplanade, and become known as 'London by the Sea'; for the Prince of Wales and his friends already spent much of their time there.
The Prince's tutor, Bishop Hurd, had said of him at the age of fifteen that he would be ‘either the most polished gentleman or the most accomplished blackguard in Europe —possibly both,' and the Bishop had proved an excellent prophet. In reaction to the cheeseparing economics that his mean mother inflicted on the Royal Households the Prince had early indulged in wild extravagance. Again and again he had got hopelessly into debt and resorted to the meanest shifts to stave off his creditors.
He was by nature profligate, and the Opposition, led by Fox and Sheridan, who were also rakes and inveterate gamblers, had flattered and encouraged him for their political ends. This, together with his morganatic marriage to the talented actress Maria FitzHerbert who was a Roman Catholic, had led to a life-long quarrel with his father. In '87 his creditors had become so pressing that he had had to shut up Carlton House, his London mansion, and go to live with Mrs. FitzHerbert at Brighton.
Then, the following year, King George had been afflicted with his first period of insanity, so, with great reluctance. Pitt had a Bill passed making the Prince temporarily Regent, but the Tory government took steps to restrict his powers as far as possible. In February '89, to the fury of the Foxites, the King's recovery had put an end to the Regency, so the Prince soon found himself in straitened circumstances again. By '94 his debts had become enormous and as the price of paying them his father insisted that he should marry Princess Charlotte of Brunswick. She proved to be a flippant and self-willed young woman and he intensely resented having been forced into marrying her. In consequence they soon ceased to live together and he returned to Mrs. FitzHerbert.
In the eyes of the great hereditary nobles of England the Hanoverian Princes were no more than parvenu upstarts and, since the Prince of Wales's conduct in several cases had been despicable, many of them refused to know him. Roger, too, as a staunch Tory, looked with ill favour on the Prince and his Whig cronies who, during the war, had so frequently hampered and attempted to sabotage measures that were in the best interests of Britain. But a friend of his named Lord Alvanley insisted on presenting him. and he had to admit that the Prince was a most genial companion with great charm of manner.
Although Brighton could not offer the warm sunshine to which Roger was used when in the south of France, its climate in February was infinitely preferable to that of rain-sodden London. While there he rode, walked and, following his custom whenever facilities were available, spent a lot of time at a fencing school and a pistol gallery to keep himself in good practice should he happen to be called on to use his weapons. At the end of the month he returned to London and two days later Georgina arrived at Berkeley Square.
Again for the first three weeks of that month they romped, laughed and loved, interspersing their nights of private delight by attending balls and routs together. But on the 26th Georgina had to leave London to make arrangements for a big party she was giving at Stillwaters on her husband's birthday, the 30th. Roger was, of course, invited and arrived there on the evening of the 29th.
To the surprise of his host and hostess, when he greeted them his face was as black as thunder. When they asked him the reason for his ill humour he replied, 'A peace with France was signed two days ago in Amiens and its terms have just been made public'
On entering the room Roger had noticed that John Beefy had failed to give him his usual warm smile: but at the announcement Beefy's face instantly brightened and he exclaimed. 'Peace at last! Hurrah for that! We'll get up our best wine this night to celebrate.'
Roger gave him a black look. 'Then I'll not drink it. On the way here I have been mulling over what it means to England, and the more I think on it the more I'm horrified.'
'Nonsense, man!' replied Beefy with a laugh. 'Peace is peace and 'tis that the country needs. To the devil with the terms, say I. With our commerce running at full spate again, whatever they be we'll soon regain our prosperity.'
Roger had formed a mild but indifferent liking for John Beefy, because he was such a kind and transparently honest fellow. That apart, he felt for him the faint contempt of a man who had achieved great things in the world, talked familiarly with Princes and defied Prime Ministers, for one who was of mediocre mind, knew nothing of great affairs and had never lifted a finger in the service of his country. Rounding on him, he snapped:
'Docs it mean nothing to you that our weak-kneed Prime Minister has given away all our conquests made these last eight years except for Trinidad and Ceylon? That many thousands of British lives have been sacrificed for the declared purpose of restoring to their rights the Bourbon Princes, the King of Sardinia and the Statholder of Holland, and that these monarchs are now not even to receive one penny of compensation for the loss of their realms? That having sent an expedition to reconquer Egypt, we are to recall it? Yes, and that we are even to give up Malta, the key to the Mediterranean?'
'Oh come,' Beefy expostulated mildly. 'Such matters are of small account compared to our having peace and the opportunity again to trade freely. And your criticism of Mr. Addison I count most unjust. In this he has served our country far better than did Mr. Pitt.'
At that Roger's gorge rose and he cried angrily, 'You imbecile! What do you know of such matters? How dare you belittle the greatest Prime Minister that Britain has ever had? The man who has worn himself to a shadow mobilising Europe to resist the hideous octopus arising out of the French Revolution and preserved our liberties. Dam'me. You know nothing and care for nothing apart from the selling of your sugar bags.'
'Roger!' exclaimed Georgina sharply. 'You go too far!'
John Beefy's face had gone a deeper shade of red. At the same moment he burst out, 'Mr. Brook, I resent your imputation. 'Tis more than enough that I should have to put up with the association between you and my wife. Oh. I know about that, and your attentions to her while she is
in London are more assiduous than can be justified by however long a friendship. Servants talk, you know And while I have remained complaisant out of my great affection for her, I'd been of a mind to tell you after tomorrow night that I consider it most unseemly that, as her lover, you should frequent this house.'
Georgina, now very flushed, swiftly intervened, 'John! Before we married it was understood between us that when I went to London 1 should be free to lead my life as I pleased. I'll neither confirm nor deny your allegations against Roger. But this is not your house; 'tis mine. And I'll have whom I will to stay in it. Even so, 1 am with you that Roger has behaved most unbecomingly towards you. He will apologize and that is to be the end of the matter.'
Never before bad Roger seen John Beefy even approach losing his temper. Realizing now that he had every justification for doing so, he regained control of himself and said quietly, ‘I pray you forgive me, John. I had become overwrought by brooding on this terrible peace that has been imposed upon England. As for myself and Georgina, I plan shortly to go abroad again; but if it is your wish I will depart now and send my seconds to you.'
Beefy shrugged his broad shoulders, 'I accept your apology for the slur upon my patriotism. But as an honest merchant unused to handling weapons I'd be out of my senses to engage in a duel with a professional killer. Regarding Georgina's claim that I'd not call into question any associations she might form during her stays in London, she is in the right. But for her to expect me to sit at table with her lover is another matter.' Drawing himself up so stiffly that he looked slightly ridiculous, the injured husband stalked from the room.
Georgina and Roger stared ruefully at one another for a moment, then they both began to laugh and he said, 'How prodigious pompous he was. Head in air and his back as stiff as a ramrod. But there it is, we are caught out.’
'Alas, yes,' she chuckled. 'If only he could have seen himself as the honest merchant looking down his nose at the professional killer. But 'tis no laughing matter. He is a dear fellow and loves me to distraction. One cannot wonder that knowing you now to be my lover he cannot bear having you in the house.'
Roger shrugged, 'In the world to which we have been used a few husbands elect to defend their honour, but most accept such a situation gracefully. Since he'll do neither, what's to be done? Shall I order that my bags be repacked and get me hence?'
'No,' she said firmly. 'I am mistress here, and that I'll not allow. Moreover, while you were quarrelling with him, both your backs were to the hall door, and it was half open. James, the footman, appeared there for a moment and was about to enter then, witnessing the rumpus, quickly withdrew. He cannot have heard much but if you leave tonight the servants will put it down to that and provoke an open scandal. 'Twill be all over the county within a few days. Then, like it or not. John will have to call you out or stand disgraced. I'll tell him so, and that until after tomorrow night he must grin and bear your company.'
On that they parted and went up to their rooms to change for dinner. Fortunately, two couples had been invited: so their presence, together with that of the urbane Colonel Thursby, prevented any further rupture between Beefy and Roger. The former was sullen and morose throughout the evening whereas Roger, being so practised in concealing his feelings when a difficult situation arose, talked with his usual carefree gaiety. And, as none of the other guests had yet heard the peace terms, he deliberately refrained from bringing up the subject, in order to avoid giving Beefy a new cause to quarrel with him.
As soon as the guests had gone they went up to bed. Half an hour later, Georgina came to his room. Sitting up in bed, he smiled at her and said, 'What a delightful surprise. You have never paid me this compliment since you married your Mr. Beefy.'
With a frown she shook her head, 'I've not come to pleasure you tonight. But I have to talk to you, and we'll have no chance tomorrow. It's chilly here. Move over and make room for me.'
As she got into his bed he gave a laugh and put his arm round her. 'We'll talk later, be it your wish. But how can you think I'd miss such an opportunity? Take off that robe, my dearest love, and all that you may have on beneath it.'
'No, Roger, no!' she exclaimed impatiently and broke his embrace. 'This is a serious matter. I have had a talk with John and must tell you of it.'
'Oh, damn the fellow! Still, if you must. What has the pompous ass to say?'
'He has issued me an ultimatum. Either you go from this house the morning after the party and do not return, or he will leave mc.'
'Let him 'then,' Roger replied angrily. 'Why you should ever have married such an oaf passes my comprehension.'
'He is not an oaf,' she retorted, her black eyes flashing, 'but the dearest, sweetest-natured man that I have ever met in my whole life.'
'Including myself?'
'For me you are a man apart from all others, but had we married it would have been calamitous to our abiding love. I mean as a husband and a father to the children. He has given me a new and happy life with which I am utterly contented.'
'Until you feel the itch to go to London and wanton in your bed with some more civilized and amusing gallant.'
'Nay: there I refresh my mind with intelligent conversation and indulge my love of gaiety. But I'd have you know that since I married Mr. Beefy, excepting with yourself I have been faithful to him.'
'Then the leopardess has certainly changed her spots and I am more honoured than I knew,' Roger commented sarcastically. 'But surely you cannot seriously mean that you will never have me at Stillwaters again?'
'I do. I had hoped to argue him into adopting the complaisancy shown by many husbands; but I failed in that. Like most simple, straightforward persons he is impossible to move when once his mind is made up, and I'm determined not to lose him. To ask me to do so would be to behave like the veriest dog in the manger, Roger. Why should I sacrifice my happy existence while you live abroad, sometimes for years on end? When you do return again to England we can still enjoy ourselves in Berkeley Square.'
'True, true; but never to come to Stillwaters again...
'Is that so hard'?'
'Can you think it otherwise? Many of the happiest hours of my life have been spent here with you. Then there are the children.'
'They can stay with me at times in London and you can see them then.'
' 'Twould not be the same. No lake to take them on; no place for them to ride their ponies safely; no woods in which to ramble with them and find them birds' nests.'
'That I cannot help. My contentment means more to me than the pleasure of having you here for a short time once in a year or two. You are to me each time we meet anew like a draught of rich golden wine, but John is my bread and butter. I'll never find another like him, and nothing will induce me to let him go. That is my final word; and so, good night.'
As she spoke, she slipped out of bed and walked quickly to the door. Sitting up he called after her, 'Georgina! Come back! We cannot leave matters like this. That I must have sounded monstrous selfish. I admit. But returning to Stillwaters has meant so much to me. Each time I love it more. Surely we can find some way to reach a compromise?'
His last words fell on deaf ears, for Georgina had left the room, slamming the door behind her.
Thinking the matter over, he soon admitted to himself that there was everything to be said for Georgina's point of view and nothing for his own. To expect her to part with a husband who suited her so well in order that a lover, whom she could see as often as she liked when he was in London, could pay occasional visits to her country home was utterly unreasonable. Nevertheless, Roger felt extremely sore about the matter. From the age of nineteen, when Georgina was married to her first husband. Sir Humphrey Etheredge, to whom the house had belonged, he had stayed there as a privileged guest, and on most of those occasions they had been free to do as they liked in it; so it was not altogether unnatural that he should look on John Beefy as an interloper.
After a while his agile brain found what he felt could be a w
ay round the difficulty. In the past Beefy had paid fairly regular visits to his estates in the West Indies. Now that he had been married to Georgina for two years it seemed probable that his affairs would demand that he should tear himself from her to go out there again next winter. At times, too, he had to make trips lasting a week or more to Bristol, to inspect his ships and warehouses there. Therefore Roger decided, when he returned to England again next autumn, he should be able to take advantage of Beefy's absence to pay one or more visits to Stillwaters, without upsetting Georgina's marriage.
He meant to speak to her about it next day but no opportunity arose, because she was so busy preparing for the party. Roger was wise enough to refrain from appearing sulky or annoyed with her. On the contrary he made himself very useful, cheerfully helping the footmen arrange the buffet tables, carrying chairs about and fetching cans of water for the big vases in which she was arranging masses of spring flowers; but they were never alone together long enough for him to think it a suitable time to begin a serious conversation.
In due course the violinists arrived, were given a meal and began to tune up at one end of the ballroom. Then carriage after carriage drove up the long drive to set down its load of men in velvet coats, kneebreeches and white stockings, and bare-shouldered women in a gay variety of silks and satins. It was about half way through the reception of the guests that Roger received the second unpleasant shock of his visit. He suddenly caught sight of Colonel George Gunston coming up the stairs.
They had been enemies from their early teens. At Sherborne Gunston had bullied Roger unmercifully, but later
Roger, being one of the finest swordsmen in Europe, had inflicted bitter humiliation on George, by making him appear no more than a clumsy lout, in a practice fencing bout witnessed by many of their acquaintances of both sexes. Wherever they had met they had been at loggerheads over policy and quarrelled over women. When in Martinique Roger had deprived Gunston of his command; in India George had been the cause of the death of a girl Roger loved through delaying an attack on the city of a rebellious Rajah.
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