The Regency (14 page)

‘
Yes,' he said, 'dancing is a very pleasant exercise. It is
rather a pity this should be the last.'

‘
Oh, is it?' Mathilde said, her face falling. 'I didn't know.’

‘
I just saw my brother speak to the band-master. And look,
he is leading Madame into the set.’

Mathilde looked pleased. 'Oh, I am glad she should dance!
I wish everyone in the world could dance!'

‘
Do you?' He looked down affectionately at her happy face. 'Would you dance with me?' She looked surprised, and he felt
at once extremely foolish, and tried to retract. 'But no, I have
shocked you. You would not like to dance with an old man
like me.’

She put out an impulsive hand, upset to think she had hurt
him. 'Oh no, please, I would, indeed I would! I was only
surprised that you should ask me. I should like it of all
things!'

‘
Really?' he asked. She nodded earnestly, and after a little hesitation, he held his arm out to her and bowed, clowning a
little to make it easier. 'Then, shall we, Miss Nordubois?’

She laughed and gave a little curtsey. 'If you please, Mr
Morland.'

‘
No, no,' he protested. 'If we are to dance together, I think
you should call me Cousin Edward. We are cousins, of a sort,
I suppose. And may I call you Mathilde?'

‘
Yes, Cousin Edward.' She put her hand gladly on his, and
he led her to the set which was forming behind James and

 
Lucy, Lady Aylesbury, driving her curricle along Bond Street
with her groom Parslow up beside her, was amused to see
John Anstey and George Brummell standing on a corner deep
in conversation. They presented quite a contrast: tall Anstey in his easy-fitting green coat, with comfortable breeches and
top-boots suggesting he had only just arrived in Town; and
small, slender Brummell looking as if he had been poured into
his snugly-cut frock-coat, his starched neckcloth arranged to
perfection, his fawn pantaloons a miracle of creaselessness,
owing to the patent strap he and his tailor had recently
devised, which passed under the foot and held the garment
taut.

‘
Look at that
tableau vivant,'
Lucy murmured to Parslow,
feeling the mouths of her famous chestnuts to slow them.
'You might call it "Town meets Country" perhaps. Hoa, there!
Good morning, John. Just arrived?’

The two men turned as she pulled up her team beside
them. Brummell exchanged a smile and a nod with her, and
John Anstey came up to the side of the curricle to take her
hand and kiss her.

‘
Lucy, my dear, I didn't know you were here. I thought you
were still at Wolvercote, or I would have called immediately.
When I passed through Upper Grosvenor Street, the knocker
was off your door.'

‘
Ah, then you didn't know I have given up number ten and
taken number twelve instead?'

‘
No, how should I?' Anstey laughed. 'You didn't tell me.’

‘
It was in
The Times
yesterday,' Lucy said reproachfully.
'Number twelve is bigger, so there's room for the children.’

‘
But I only arrived late last night, as I was telling Mr
Brummell. I was travelling all day yesterday and didn't see
the papers. So you've brought the children up with you?
That's an innovation!’

Lucy shrugged. 'Trot insists that they ought not to spend
all their lives in the country, but ought to have some experi
ence of Town, too. I suspect, however, its because
she
wants
to have some experience of Town herself.'

‘
Dear ma'am, can you blame her?' Brummell said with a delicate shudder. 'The thought of being incarcerated in the
country for twelve months of every year is too dreadful!’

One of the chestnuts sneezed, and Parslow gave an admoni
tory cough to remind Lucy about the inadvisability of keep
ing horses standing at this time of the year, though it was
warm for April. She glanced at him, and then handed the
reins over. 'Take them round, will you, Parslow? I shall walk
a little with the gentlemen.’

John Anstey jumped her down from her carriage, and
frowned, and as Parslow drove the chestnuts away he said,
‘But my dear Lucy, you are much too thin! This won't do,
you know.'

‘
Oh, don't talk about me,' Lucy said with a hint of irrita
bility, as she released herself from his grasp. 'Tell me what
you two were discussing so seriously when I drove up.'

‘
Why, the war, of course,' Brummell said promptly, and
Anstey followed his cue.

‘
I was saying we shall see something positive done at last,
now that the Whigs are out and the Tories in again. The
Whigs lost nearly two hundred seats in the general election.
They must have been mad to press that Catholic Militia Bill.'

‘
Sheridan said he had heard of people knocking their heads
against a wall,' said Brummell, 'but he had never known any
one who collected the bricks and built the wall for the express purpose.'

‘
Your majority was improved, I suppose, dear John,' Lucy
suggested.

‘
My seat has never been contested in living memory,'
Anstey said with dignity. 'But that "No Popery" election was
just what we needed. The mood of the country's behind us now, and Portland may not be the most exciting of men to
lead a government, but his heart's in the right place.'

‘
His interest, you mean,' Brummell smiled. 'What do you
care for his heart?'

‘
Well, if you like,' Anstey admitted. 'But we've got a lot
of sound men in office now. Chatham's at the Ordnance,
Perceval at the Exchequer, Mulgrave at the Admiralty —’

‘
All Mr Pitt's friends, in fact, without Mr Pitt,' Brummell
murmured.

‘
Castlereagh's in the War Office,' Anstey went on, ignoring
him, 'and he's the hardest worker I know. What can be
achieved by application, he will achieve. And your friend
Canning's the new Foreign Secretary, Brummell. He's an
able man, you must admit.'

‘
He's not Mr Brummell's friend,' Lucy said. 'Much too
rough and ready. Everyone says he's clever, of course, but
he's no gentleman.'

‘
Nonsense. He was at Eton and The House — what more
do they want?' Anstey said indignantly. 'Just because he's
ambitious! There's always this absurd prejudice about anyone
who's "too clever".'

‘
Quite,' Brummell nodded. 'Everyone prefers an amiable
fool. You always know where you are with them. And Canning,
you must admit, is an intriguer.'

‘And a friend of the Princess of Wales,' Lucy said.

Anstey's drawn brow relaxed, and he gave a rueful laugh.
'Oh well, that damns him utterly, of course! But at all events,
we'll be able to get on with making a new agreement with
Russia and Prussia, and crushing Boney while we've got him
on the run. The Cabinet's promised an early expedition to
the Baltic. If only we could get our men back from the
Mediterranean!'

‘
I never understood what they were doing there in the first
place,' Lucy said. 'Why in the world should we attack
Turkey?'

‘
Because Russia is our ally, of course,' Anstey said
impatiently. 'We offered them help in their war against the Turk as part of the last treaty, but the whole thing's been a
nonsense. However, I believe Canning's sending Sir Arthur
Paget out there. If anyone can talk us free from that imbroglio,
it's Paget.’

Brummell gave a theatrical sigh. 'Whatever did we talk
about before we had the war? Imagine how dull we would be
if it were ever to end!’

Anstey laughed. 'You would talk nonsense, just as you do
now, and do it charmingly, of course! But I must take my
leave of you. Lucy, now I know you are in Town, I'll call, if I may, and tell you all the home news.'

‘
Yes, do. Come and dine with me,' Lucy said cordially.
Anstey took his leave, and Brummell offered Lucy his arm,
and they strolled along together in the tenuous sunshine.

‘
Now, my dear Lady Aylesbury, I must talk to you very
seriously,' he said after a while. 'I am doing you a great
favour by allowing you to be seen on my arm in Bond Street,
for really, you know, you are in very sad looks. I tell you this
as an old friend, you understand, upon privilege.'

‘Privilege to insult me, you mean?'

‘
Nonsense! How can the truth be an insult? You were never
a beauty like your poor sister, Mrs Haworth —'

‘
Oh heaven! Am I never to emerge from her shadow?' Lucy
struck her brow, and Brummell looked reprovingly at her.

‘
Hush! I am serious. You were never a beauty like her, but
you were used to be almost handsome, and quite a pleasure to
walk with, for I always admired your straight back and your
elegant carriage, you know. Of course you have been in
mourning, which one understands and forgives —'

‘You are too kind,' Lucy murmured.

‘
But you are out of your blacks now,' he went on, unde
flected, 'and I really cannot endure to see you so
mal soignée.
Even Lord Anstey noticed you are too thin, and heaven
knows, he is not a man of fashion: only look at his coats!’

Lucy sighed. 'To tell you the truth, I find it difficult to care
about anything at all since — since Weston died.' Tears
sprang to her eyes simply with the conjunction of the words,
and she shook them away, not wishing to embarrass her
friend. He pressed her captive hand against his ribs in sympathy, and she drew a steadying breath. 'Sometimes it isn't
so bad — when I'm actually doing something, riding to a fast
point out hunting, for instance, or talking to a friend, like you — sometimes I can even forget for a moment or two. But then
it all comes back in a rush. And in the morning when I wake
up, that's the worst of all. Docwra brings me my chocolate
and asks me what she should lay out for me to put on, and —'
She stopped, looking down at the pavement.

‘And what?' he prompted gently.