The Regency (107 page)

Anstey stifled his expression of surprise, and asked, 'And
what did she say?'

‘
She accepted me, but said she wouldn't marry me until
after the war.' Wiske frowned again. 'Thing is, every time I
come back, I ask again, and I don't think she's unwilling, but
she keeps to this business about the
war.
Don't know why.
I've asked her, and she can't answer. But now the war is over,
and I've got to go and — well, remind her of her promise, and
I'm afraid —'

‘Afraid she's changed her mind?'

‘
Not that, really. Afraid that if I don't ask her the right
way, use the right words, she'll say no.' He looked at his
friend. 'Is that nonsense? Touch of shell-shock, maybe? Too
long in the firing-line, making my wits wander?'

‘
Not at all,' Anstey said seriously. 'I can perfectly under
stand your feelings.'

‘You can?' Wiske seemed as surprised as pleased.

‘
Tell me — forgive me for asking — but does Lucy love
you?'

‘
Hard to tell sometimes. You know what she is. But I think
she does.'

‘
Then your path is clear. You must be firm with her. Don't
stand any nonsense. Sweep her off her feet.'

‘Really?'

‘
Really. If she argues, just kiss her, and keep kissing her
until she stops.’

Wiske contemplated this pleasing notion. 'Think it will
work?'

‘
Bound
to.
The trouble with Lucy
is
that she came to
thinking very late in life, and now she does too much of it by
way of compensation. And she's very loyal — I wouldn't be surprised if
_,
it weren't some nonsensical loyalty to Weston's
memory that makes her hesitate. Your job will be to keep
her occupied, so she hasn't time to think. That way she'll
be happy. Here, have another glass of wine for courage, and
then —'

‘Sound the gallop?'

‘
Exactly. Forward the Tenth! Your health, Wiske, and
Lucy's happiness! And be sure to invite me to the wedding.'

*

‘
Her ladyship is just on the point of going out, sir,' Hicks said
when Danby enquired at the door. 'The horses will be
brought round at any moment; but I'm sure her ladyship will
be glad to see you.'

‘
Of course she will. Don't trouble yourself, Hicks, I'll find
my own way up.'

‘
Very good, sir. Her ladyship is in the morning-room, I
believe.’

He watched in well-concealed surprise as the Major posi
tively ran up the stairs, taking the half-turn at a leap. A hint of
wine on his breath, too, and a hectic look in the eye. Some
thing was Up, Hicks thought, and if only he were ten years
younger, he'd nip up the stairs after him and have a listen.
But the horses would be here any instant, and that would be his excuse to go up and disturb them. By hovering outside a
door, one could get to hear quite a lot, and be sure to intrude
at the right moment to be told a little more.

Lucy was dressed in her riding habit, her hat, gloves and
whip lying ready on the table. She was seated by the window,
scrawling a letter in her round, childish hand, and when
Wiske came in she didn't look up, but said, 'Yes, all right,
Hicks, I shall be down directly.'

‘It's not Hicks; it's me!’

She looked up. ‘Danby! Why, I wasn't expecting you. When
did you arrive? Why didn't Hicks announce you? I was just on
the point of going out.'

‘
He told me. I said I'd come up anyway — not his fault. I
got back last night, but I haven't had an instant to myself
until now — not even long enough to scribble you a note.'

‘
You came with the Sovereigns, then? George and the rest
are giving a ball for them at Burlington House —'

‘
Yes, I know about that. I didn't come here to talk about
the ball.’

She eyed him cautiously. 'You sound rather odd. Are you
all right?'

‘
Perfectly. Never better. The war's over, Lucy, and I've
come to ask you to keep your promise.'

‘
My promise? Oh!' Lucy got up from the table and began to
pace about, avoiding his eyes. 'Well, it's very sudden. I wasn't
expecting you back just yet. There are lots of things to be
thought about, arrangements — we have to talk things over

‘
Nothing to talk about that I can see,' he said simply.
‘There's only one question to ask — will you marry me?'

‘
It's not that simple,' Lucy complained, pacing. 'There are
dozens of things to be taken into consideration. I can't just be
expected to make a decision on the instant like that —'

‘
You've had years to think about it,' he pointed out
patiently.

‘But I didn't know the war was going to end now, like this.'

‘
Lucy!' He caught her as she passed and made her face
him, holding her lightly but firmly by the upper arms.
‘There's only one question — do you love me? Will you marry
me?'

‘That's two questions,' she objected weakly.

‘
It's the same question,' he said firmly. 'The same answer
will do for both; and I mean to be answered now.’

She looked at him, and for a moment he was distracted
from his purpose by a new realisation of how much he loved
her. This was no perfect, classical beauty's face. She was a
mature woman now. There were lines — laughter-lines
around the eyes, a frown-mark, he was sorry to say, between her brows, a crease in her upper lip from her habit of pulling
it down between her teeth when she was vexed. The eyelids
were softly creased, and there were a few silver hairs amongst
the pale fawn of her perpetually disordered curls. She was
unpredictable, difficult, brave, sometimes thoughtless,
frequently careless, always loyal and truthful. She shook his
senses; all the things she was were rooted so deep in him that
every breath of hers tugged painfully at his heart.

‘Do you love me?' he asked again, a little huskily.

‘
I won't be bullied,' she said, but the expression of her eyes
had changed. She was not annoyed, or stubborn, or proud,
only unsure; she watched him, shy, afraid, wanting to be
convinced.

‘
I won't bully you,' he said, bending his face to hers, touching
her lips with his, feeling her quiver. 'Only marry you, love
you, care for you.' He kissed her, long and sweetly, and
paused for breath. Her eyes half opened.

‘
But Danby —' she began to protest, though without
conviction.

‘
Hmm?' he said, but folded her close against him and
kissed her again. This time her eyes remained shut. 'Name the
day, Lucy. How long do you need to get your wedding-gown
made?’

She
put an impatient hand round the back of his neck and
pulled his mouth down to hers again. He wasn't quite sure
what it was she murmured, but it sounded like 'Damn the wedding-gown!’

*

Hicks allowed a good five minutes of silence to elapse before
he banged clumsily into the potted palm that stood in the
passage beside the door, and turned the doorknob with a great
deal of fumbling. When he stopped in, his lady was standing
in the middle of the room, holding fast to the Major's hand,
her cheeks so pink and her eyes so bright that she looked no
more than twenty, and made Hicks's eyes go misty for a
moment.

He cleared his throat. 'The horses are waiting, my lady,' he said.

‘
Thank you, Hicks. Have them sent back to the stables, if
you please — I shan't be riding just yet,' Lucy said. ‘Very good, my lady,' said Hicks, the imperturbable.
‘And, Hicks, bring up a bottle of the Veuve Clicquot, will
you, and two glasses. We have something to celebrate.’

‘
Yes, my lady,' Hicks said.

Lucy brought the hand that was holding her lover's
forward so that it was clearly visible, and looked up at him
with an expression of fondness and mischief and dependency and sheer high spirits, which made Hicks for an instant forget all about his varicose veins and want to dance.

‘I'm going to marry the Major,' she said.

‘
Very good, my lady,' Hicks said, permitting himself
a
small smile of pleasure at his own
double entendre.
He backed
out,
closing the door, and out in the passage executed a very small four-step jig. 'And about time
too,'
he remarked to the potted palm with a satisfied nod.

*

Lucy's wedding to Major Wiske took place on 30 June at
St George's, and though it couldn't hold a candle to Flam
inia's for style or grandeur, it remained in the memory of
most
of the guests as the
happiest wedding they were ever at.

George Brummell was groomsman, which alone would
have bestowed on it the cachet of fashionableness; but add to
that the fact that Danby Wiske was known and liked by
everyone who mattered in the
ton,
and that everything Lucy
did had always headed the society columns of the newspaper, and it became one occasion in the year that no-one wanted to
confess they had missed.

Lucy looked very handsome, and affectingly nervous, in a
gown of soft yellow silk with deep ruched silk trimming; and a
delicious, high-crowned hat, trimmed with white marabou,
knots and ribbons, which a dozen ladies tried to have copied
in the week that followed, without success. Danby Wiske was
in the full-dress uniform of the Tenth Hussars, which had been
redesigned yet again that year. He looked very handsome in
the blue pelisse with gold lace and buttons, the red-and-gold fringed sash, and gold-laced red shako, which complimented
his fair good looks.

After the wedding they were driven back to Upper Grosvenor
Street in an open barouche drawn by four white horses, to
a breakfast few people ever forgot. The Prince Regent him
self, as Colonel-in-Chief of the regiment, found time to drop
in to propose the toast to the couple's health, and was heard
to remark as he left, evidently reluctantly, to fulfil an official
engagement, that it was 'the jolliest wedding he was ever at, by God, none of the usual stuffiness about it,' and that 'Lady
Curricle had always been a favourite of his, and he'd be
damned if he didn't do something for Wiske, who was as good
a fellow as ever lived, and almost deserved his good fortune.’