The Emperor (80 page)

There being nothing further to stay for, Lucy and
Docwra at once set off by post-chaise for London and the
comforts of Grosvenor Street. The journey was made
hideous by the bitter complaints of Jeffrey at yet another
incarceration in the hated basket. Weston had asked Lucy to
take care of him until his return, for he didn't think the
freezing cold, damp and fogs of the Baltic in March would
suit the constitution of such a hedonistic cat.

Lucy found London in a state of ferment over the possi
bility of a Regency. Fortunately for her curiosity, George
Brummell called as soon as the knocker was back on the
door.

‘
Come and ride with me, my dear ma'am, and I will tell
you all the latest gossip,' he offered. 'You are the only
woman in Town it is not a punishment to ride beside, and I
must have a turn about the Park, for I have a most delightful
new horse, whose colour matches mine perfectly. You had
better change your gown at once, before Wiske gets wind
that you are returned, and comes to interrupt us. But you
must wear your blue velvet habit with the Hussar frogging,
and that delicious little black hat of yours, with the half-
veil.’

Lucy laughed. 'Do you remember my wardrobe so
exactly? How you must wish I were more like my sister
Mary. You and she could have talked about clothes for
ever.'

‘
She was one of the three most beautiful women in
England,' he sighed, 'and probably
the
best dressed. Her
death was a great tragedy.’

Lucy was a little piqued. 'You needn't sound as though
you wish I had gone instead of her.’

He put his head on one side and smiled. 'Come, ma'am,
pouting don't become you! Your oddities endear you far
more to me than beauty and elegance, I assure you. I'm a
faithful old body, as you shall find, besides being an oddity
myself, so I know how to value such things.’

She changed into her habit, and they went downstairs
where Parslow and Brummell's groom were holding the
horses. Lucy admired Brummell's chestnut, whose red-gold
coat was indeed a very similar shade to his hair, and he
bowed and said, 'Yes, and your yellow horse makes a very
nice contrast, so I am satisfied.'

‘
You absurd creature!' Lucy laughed, and was lifted into
Mimosa's saddle by Parslow, whose rigidity of mouth told
her that he enjoyed Mr Brummell's absurdities too. Mimosa
curvetted around as the cold saddle touched her back, but
Lucy mastered her in a moment, for she was eight years old,
and her playfulness was by now more habitual than con
vinced. The grooms fell in behind, and the cavalcade made
its way into the Park.

‘
Well, now,' said Brummell, 'first of all I must tell you
that there have never been such comings and goings at
Carlton House! It's astonishing how many friends the Prince
has who have quite suddenly taken it into their heads to
assure him of their unswerving loyalty and undying affec
tion. It's touching, you know — quite brings tears to the
Prince's eyes.'

‘
Then a Regency is likely?' Lucy asked, Brummell
shrugged.

‘
Likely. Possible. Who can tell? Pitt and Addington
mentioned the word to His Royal Highness, and then added
the words "limited powers", which quite took the thrill out
of it. But even Clarence and Kent have been seen lounging
about looking casual just where the Prince is expected to
pass, and starting with surprise when he appears, and feeling
they might as well take the opportunity to mention their
willingness to undertake responsibility.'

‘
And the Duke of York?' Lucy asked innocently,
knowing Brummell's partiality for him.

‘
To his eternal credit, York remains aloof. He don't
favour the Catholic Relief Bill any more than the King, and
he's not one to go a-mongering.'

‘But how grave is the King's condition?' Lucy asked.

‘
We'd all like to know the answer to that one. The
Willises keep him a prisoner, and the Prince has only been
allowed to see him once, though they say he's recovered
enough to be able to feed himself. But there's no doubt he
has been, and still is, very ill, and the Prince has already
approached various people privately about forming a
government: Devonshire, Buckingham, Norfolk, Aylesbury

‘What?' said Lucy, startled.

Brummell smiled. 'Does that surprise you? The Prince
has always liked your husband.'

‘But Chetwyn has no political ambitions,' Lucy said.

‘
A man must have something to fill his days,' Brummell
said obliquely. 'Besides, a man lacking ambition makes an
easier bed-fellow than someone always fidgeting for
advancement. His Highness, for instance, gets on much
more comfortably with Addington than ever he did with
Pitt.' He glanced at her thoughtful face with amusement.
‘But however,' he went on, 'it may all come to nothing.
Now, ma'am, what else is there to tell you? Lady Hamilton's
curious indisposition? But no, I am persuaded you must
have all the naval news before me. Ah, yes, of course, I have it! Your fair cousin, the lovely Lady Greyshott, has been the
cause of a duel — her first of many, I imagine!'

‘No, really?'

‘
Oh yes, at Chalk Farm last week, a meeting between
Colonel Lord Bolito and Sir Henry Graves. Shots were
exchanged, and Bolito's arm was broken — the left arm, not
that it makes any difference in his case for he's equally
clumsy with either. Where
his
ball went, only the gods can
tell, for he is the very worst shot in the army, which makes it
all the more strange that he should have offered to meet
Graves at all.'

‘
But what was it about? And if it was an affair of honour,
why was not Lord Greyshott involved?'

‘
My dear Lady Aylesbury, you
have
been away a long
time!' said Brummell, with relish at the prospect of a long
story. 'I had better tell you all about it from the beginning.’

 
Roberta's father, Colonel Taske, agreed to take up resi
dence with her and to give her the benefit of his advice in
bringing up his grandson.

‘
But we have decided not to live in Chelmsford House, at
least until Bobbie is older,' she told Lucy. 'It's far too big for
us. Athersuch is going to find us a suitable tenant, and we'll
let it, and take a small Town house.'

‘And Shawes?' Lucy asked.

‘
We're keeping that on. Papa thinks it important for a
boy to have a taste of the country life. He's going to help me
to find a tutor, too, so that I can take Bobbie out of petti
coats and cut his hair.' Her mouth turned down. 'I must say, I don't like the idea of that at all. He won't be my little boy
any more.’

Lucy had nothing to say to that. Her own baby Roland
seemed to her to be of no possible interest to anyone
until
he went into trousers, but then she had never cared much
for babies. The young of animals seemed to her much more
attractive, and more interesting.

‘
Is Athersuch going to pick your Town house for you?'
she asked.

‘
Well, no,' Roberta said. 'I rather hoped you might help
me to choose one.’

Lucy was glad of the commission, to give her an interest
and keep her mind occupied. From amongst the houses
Athersuch found them, Lucy advised Roberta to choose a
very pretty modern house in Brook Street, not far from
where Weston had had his lodgings. The redoubtable
Hawkins gave his approval to the choice, personally selected
a loyal corps from amongst the Chelmsford House servants,
and soon proved he could be just as terrifying in his new
surroundings as in the noble spaces of his old domain.

‘
After all, my lady,' he said to Roberta, 'the change of
abode is only temporary, and it would be most unwise to
permit a lowering of standards. His lordship should be
served in this house in the manner in which he will expect to
be served when he returns home again.’

Roberta also asked Lucy to be present when she interviewed the cleric her father recommended to the post of
tutor. He was the son of a friend of Colonel Taske's, of an
old and respectable family, and just down from Oxford. He
was a short and stocky young man, very fair, good-looking,
with excellent teeth and an engaging smile. Lucy could see
that Roberta was very favourably taken with him.

‘
I like him,' Lucy said when Firth had left. 'I like the way
his ears stick out. It makes him look trustworthy.'

‘
Oh Lucy, how can you be so absurd?' Roberta said. 'I
wish you will be serious.'

‘
I am perfectly serious. Haven't you noticed that horses
with
_b
ig ears are always good tempered? It's a very good
sign.'

‘Mr Firth is not a horse.'

‘The principle's the same. I like his eyes, too.'

‘
He has very nice eyes,' Roberta said, giving herself
away.

‘
Yes, large, and very clear, and hazel,' Lucy grinned. ‘There is something about hazel eyes, don't you think? I
should engage him at once!’

Roberta looked shocked, and a little offended. 'I meant,
that I thought his eyes honest,' she said stiffly.

‘
Now don't starch up,' Lucy said 'I was only teasing you.
He seems a very decent, respectable young man, sensible,
and kind too, and I'm sure he will suit Bobbie admirably. Of
course, Horatio and Lady Barbara will want someone much
more fashionable and smart, but — '

‘
They may mind their own busines,' Roberta said firmly,
and Lucy saw that young Mr Firth had found a friend for
life. Well and good; she thought. Long experience with
animals had given her very reliable instincts about people.
Kindness, good sense, and loyalty would be the hallmarks of
Mr Firth's actions.

*

 
News from the Baltic was not long in coming. On the first of
April the English ships inflicted a thorough defeat on the
hostile Danish fleet at Copenhagen. While the news of the
victory was good, Lucy knew for the first time the agony of
waiting for the casualty lists, and when Hicks finally brought
up the newspaper containing them, she could not bring
herself to read it, and it was Docwra who finally scanned the
columns and assured her mistress that Captain Weston's
name was not there.

The fleet pressed on northwards to attack Sweden and
Russia. At the end of April the news came that the mad
Tsar Paul had been murdered in his bed by some of his own
officers, and that his successor, Alexander, had ordered his
ships to refrain from hostilities, and was willing to negotiate
an end to the Armed Neutrality.

The Baltic threat was thus virtually at an end, and in May
the Regency crisis ended too, when the King's recovery was
sufficient for him to be able to go to his beloved Weymouth
for a convalescence.

In June, the French began to move troops to the north of
France, and to assemble a fleet of small craft in the harbour
at Boulogne. With the capitulation of Austria in December
and of Portugal in June, England was now France's only
enemy, and the implications were clear. Another invasion
was being threatened.

In July the Baltic fleet, no longer needed in northern
waters, was recalled and a new squadron formed from its
numbers, with Admiral Nelson in command, to defend the
coast of England, and if possible to destroy the invasion
fleet in Boulogne. Lord St Vincent was adamant that England's sea power was too great for an invasion to
succeed, and soon his words to the Cabinet were being
quoted joyfully in every street and tavern: 'I do not say the
French cannot come, I only say they cannot come by sea.’