The Victory (61 page)

Lucy moved her head with the irritation of weariness. 'I
don't need him with me. I am perfectly all right on my own. I
wish you would all stop fussing me.’

Héloïse said no more, picked up her muff, and moved
towards the door, but as she reached it, Lucy called her back.
'Héloïse!’

She turned and looked back, and saw the real Lucy looking
out from her eyes, lost, lonely, afraid.

‘What is it, my Lucy?' Héloïse asked gently.

Lucy struggled for words. 'How do you bear it?' she asked
at last.

‘It gets better. In time it gets better.'

‘I can't believe that.'

‘
I know. You feel that there can never be any gladness ever
again, and it's of no use to tell you that you won't always feel
like that. But it is true.'

‘
I feel as though — as though I've been left alone in the
dark, and no-one even knows I'm here,' she said in a low,
desperate voice.

‘
There are so many people who care about you, dear Lucy,
and who want to help you.’

But Héloïse saw that she had turned in on herself again,
and there was nothing she could say to comfort her. She took
her leave, and her brow wore an anxious furrow as she went
out to her carriage.

 
After so long in darkness, Chelmsford House was once again a
blaze of light, with torches illuminating the whole street
outside, a fringed awning over the great door, and a throng of
carriages blocking Pall Mall and halting the traffic as far back as St Martin's. Everyone wanted to be there, not only because
it was the first ball of the Season, and promised to be one of
the biggest; but because the Dowager Lady Chelmsford was
well liked and respected, and her son would one day be a very
eligible
para.

Not so much was known about Lady Strathord. There were
certainly some mysterious circumstances surrounding her,
but on the other hand, she also had royal blood, and was
received at St James's. Those ladies who had met her
pronounced her charming and most elegant; and besides, she
had the power to introduce to one's daughters the delightful
Duc de Veslne-d'Estienne, who was young, single, titled, and reputed to be rich. He might be unpronounceably French, but
he was wanted for execution by Buonaparte, which made it
quite all right to admire him.

On the whole, Society was prepared to find the unknown
Miss Nordubois a sweet girl, and only wanted to discover that her fortune was not large, to think her
a
very eligible compan
ion for their daughters.

The sweet girl in question stood very nervously at the top
of the great staircase, up which the guests flowed like an
unstaunchable tide. Each successive wave seemed to bear a
dowager at its crest. Mathilde had never seen so many
diamonds on so many puckered bosoms, so much gold and
purple silk wound into turbans, so many pairs of sharply criti
cal eyes, often reinforced by lorgnons which she felt to be
completely superfluous. She was very glad of the comfortable
presence to either side of her of dearest Madame, and dear
Lady Chelmsford, who was not only lending her house
and her countenance to Mathilde, but doing her the even greater kindness of being as tall as she.

A great deal of thought had gone into Mathilde's appear
ance for that evening, for besides the problem of achieving
modesty and propriety without insipidity, there was also the
question of how to make the best of her red hair.

Héloïse won the point in the end of not cropping. 'One
must not look apologetic,' she said firmly. 'To crop is very
well for those who have nothing to display, or those who are so pretty and golden, like you, dear Roberta, they may do as they please. But since everyone must notice Mathilde's hair,
we must make them know we mean them to.’

As to the material of the gown, Roberta was for muslin.
'Nothing else becomes a young girl so well, and besides, she is
so slender, it will drape to perfection on her.' The styles were
all Greek and Roman that year, waistlines up under the bust,
small, plain bodices with short sleeves, and straight skirts with
long trains for evening-wear. 'But what colour? Pink is
dangerous; blue is the safe choice, I suppose.'

‘
I always seem to wear blue,' Mathilde ventured to
complain. 'I wish I could have something different.'

‘
White,' Héloïse said firmly. 'White muslin for her first
appearance, with, yes, I have it, with gold trim. The gold will
set off her hair so strikingly!’

Little ruffs around the neck were popular, but Héloïse
spoke against them. 'She has a lovely neck, and such white
skin. We must draw attention to it.'

‘
I have a very pretty topaz and gold necklace that would
look very well,' Roberta said. 'Quite suitable for a young girl.
And there are earrings to match.'

‘
No earrings,' Héloïse said. 'We shall have her hair up, so,
and a gold fillet around it, very simple and
a l'ancien.
You
see?
Ciel, qu'elle sera ravissante!’

Mathilde felt more terrified than ravishing as she stood at
the top of the stairs, despite the assurances not only of Marie
and Mesdames that she looked quite as she should, but also of
Colonel Taske that she looked exquisite, of Mr Firth that she
looked lovely, and of Bobbie that she was entirely 'first rate!’

The gown was indeed very simple, quite plain except for
the gold embroidered key-pattern around the neckline and
sleeve-cuffs, and the gold fringe which edged the long train.

She wore the topaz necklace around her white throat, and her
piled-up, burnished hair was bound with a gold ribbon
supporting a white ostrich feather. Long white gloves, a bead
reticule, and a handsome white ostrich fan completed her
toilette. When she could stop being frightened for long
enough, she was able to perceive that the looks given her by
the other young women passing before her were not mocking,
but envious.

The Duc arrived, looking heartbreakingly handsome and
noble with his hair powdered and his arm in a sling; and
when he had performed his greetings, he stood beside Héloïse
chatting, quite unaware that he had rendered Mathilde
incapable of speech simply by bowing over her hand and
murmuring
'Enchanté, mademoiselle.’

While he was still standing with them, the footman
announced the Earl of Aylesbury and Mr Knaresborough,
and they came up the stairs side by side. It was Lord Ayles
bury who raised the all-important question.

‘
But who is to have the privilege of opening the ball with
Miss Nordubois? I know Robert, here, is longing to ask her,
but though he is very pretty, I'm afraid I outrank him, and
that is everything, is it not? My dear Miss Nordubois, may I
have the honour of your hand for the first dance?’

He performed a comic bow, and Mathilde glanced desperately at Héloïse, not in the least wanting to dance with Lord
Aylesbury, even if he was an earl, and having hoped for a very
different arrangement. The Duc, since he was standing on the
other side of }léloïse and watching the scene with lazy amuse
ment, could not help seeing the pleading look, and knowing
how fond Héloïse was of her ward, he interposed smilingly.

‘
Ah, my lord earl, but I outrank
you,
and if Mademoiselle will not think it a disgrace to dance with a one-armed man, I
hope to have the pleasure of leading her to the first set
myself.’

Mathilde's face glowed, Héloïse accepted gratefully on her
behalf, and Lord Aylesbury yielded laughingly, claiming the
two second in compensation before he passed on with Mr Knaresborough into the anteroom in search of champagne.

Mathilde's highest hopes were fulfilled, and more, for she
was a modest girl, and had hoped for no more than to be able
to dance with the Duc; but when they reached the head of the
set for the second time, he asked most charmingly to be
allowed to take her in to supper. She danced, thereafter, as if
on wings, and the glow of anticipation in her face made a
mama or two remark sourly that Miss Nourdubois was really
quite pretty after all.

The ball was a great success, and the crowd in the vast
ballroom and noble old ante-chambers was so great that the
hem of Mathilde's gown was trodden on during the supper
recess and torn, which obliged her to retire for a few minutes
before the dancing resumed to have it stitched. Then, remem
bering her promise to Bobbie, she slipped out and up the
backstairs to the nursery to tell him how things were going.

She found him and Mr Firth enjoying their own supper,
which the latter had smuggled upstairs on a tray.

‘
I say, 'Tilda, these lobster patties are simply first rate! Did
you have some?' Bobbie cried as soon as he saw her.

‘
What they will do to our digestion, so late at night, I
shudder to think,' Mr Firth murmured.

‘But everyone else is eating the same things,' Bobbie said indignantly.

‘
That isn't champagne you're drinking, is it?' Mathilde
asked, eyeing his glass doubtfully.

‘
No, only lemonade. M'tutor don't approve of champagne
at my age,' Bobbie said with a sigh. 'I keep telling him and
telling him,
I need to get into practice for when I'm older, but
he won't see it. I say, you do look pretty! I like having you here; I wish you could stay all the time. Is it a good dance?
Who have you danced with?'

‘
Well, I danced the two first with the Duc,' Mathilde
obliged, ‘and then the two next with Lord Aylesbury. Then
there was Lord Alvanley, and Mr Pierrepoint, and then Mr
Knaresborough, and then Mr Charles Bagot. And then it was
supper.'

‘
I like Mr Knaresborough,' Bobbie said, starting on a
creamed-chicken boat. 'I think he's a trump. I saw him arrive
out of the window, with Lord Aylesbury. Do you like him,
'Tilda? Nursey says you might do worse than marry him. She
says he'd be a good match for you.’

Mathilde reddened. 'I don't like being called 'Tilda. Anyway, I must go back now.'