stronger ties of affection would put an end to. It had not been so. The mischief of her upbringing, the hardening effect of a distasteful marriage, had vitiated a character of whose underlying worth he could still entertain no doubt. That the heart was unspoiled, he was sure: could he but have possessed himself of it he was persuaded all would have been different. Her conduct had convinced him that he had failed, and although, even through the anger that had welled up in him at their last meeting, he had been conscious of an almost overpowering impulse to keep her upon any terms, a deeper instinct had held him silent.
He had passed since then through every phase of doubt, sometimes driven so nearly mad by the desire to hold her in his arms that he had fallen asleep at night with the fixed intention of imploring her to let everything be as it had been before their quarrel, only to wake in the morning to a realization of the impossibility of building happiness upon such foundations. Arguments clashed, and nagged in his brain. He blamed himself for lack of tact, for having been too easy, for having been too harsh. Sometimes he was sure that he had handled her wrongly from the start; then profounder knowledge would possess him, and he would recognise with regret the folly of all such arguments. There could be no question of tact or mishandling where the affections were engaged. He came back wearily to the only thing he knew to be certain: that since the love she had felt for him had been a light emotion, as fleeting as her smile, nothing but misery could attend their marriage.
After prolonged strife the mind becomes a Iittle numb, repeating dully the old arguments, but ceasing to attach a meaning to them. It was so with Colonel Audley. His brain continued to revolve every argument. but he seemed no longer capable of drawing any conclusions from them. He could neither convince himself that the rift was final nor comfort himself with the hope of renewing the engagement. He was aware. chiefly, of an immense lassitude, but beneath it, and underlying his every word and thought, was a pain that had turned from a sharp agony into an ache which was always present, yet often ignored, because familiarty had inured him to it.
The unfortunate circumstance of his being obliged to remain in Brussels, where he must not only see Barbara. continually but was forced to live under the eyes of scores of people whom he knew to be watching him imposed a strain upon him that began very soon to appear in his face. Judith, obliged to respect his evident wish that the affair should be forgotten, was goaded to exclaiming to Worth: 'I could even wish the war would break out, if only it would take Charles away from this place!'
Upon the following day, June 14th, it seemed as though her wish would be granted. She was at Lady Conynghame's in the evening, congratulating Lord Hay upon his win at the races at Grammont upon the previous day, when Colonel Audley came in with news of serious movement on the frontier. On June 13th, Sir Hussey Vivian, whose hussar brigade was stationed to the south of Tournay, had discovered that he had opposite him not a cavalry picket, as had previously been the case, but a mere collection of douaniers, who, upon being questioned, had readily disclosed the fact of the French army's concentration about Maubeuge. Shortly after the Colonel's entrance some other guests came in with a rumour that the French had actually crossed the frontier. All disbelief was presently put an end to by the Duke's arrival. He was calm, and in good spirits, but replied to the eager questions put to him that he believed the rumour to be true.
Chapter Seventeen
On the following morning the only news was of Sir Thomas Picton's arrival in Brussels. He was putting up at the Hotel d'Angleterre with two of his aides-de-camp, Captain Chambers of the 1st Footguards, and an audacious young gentleman who ought to have been in London with the 1st battalion of that regiment, but who had procured leave, and contrived to get himself enrolled on Sir Thomas Picton's staff as honorary aide-de-camp. It seemed reasonable to Mr Gronow to suppose that he could quite well take part in a battle in Belgium and be back again in London in time to resume his duties at the expiration of his leave.
While Sir Thomas, a burly figure in plain clothes - for the trunks containing his uniforms had not yet arrived in Brussels - was seated at breakfast, Colonel Canning came in to say that the Duke wished to see him immediately. He finished his breakfast, and went off to Headquarters. He met Wellington in the Park, walking with the Duke of Richmond and Lord Fitzroy-Somerset. All three were deep in conversation. Sir Thomas strode up to them, accosting his chief with his usual lack of ceremony, and received a chilling welcome.
'I am glad you are come, Sir Thomas,' said his Lordship stiffly. He looked down his nose at the coarse, square-jowled face in front of him. He valued old Picton for his qualities as a soldier, but he had never been able to like him. 'As foul-mouthed an old devil as ever lived,' he had once said of him. Picton's familiarity annoyed him; he delivered one of his painful snubs.
'The sooner you get on horseback the better,' he said. 'No time is to be lost. You will take the command of the troops in advance. The Prince of Orange knows by this time that you will go to his assistance.'
A slight bow, and it was plain that his lordship considered the interview at an end. Picton was red-faced, and glaring. Richmond, sorry for the rough old man's humiliation, said something civil, but Picton was too hurt and angry to respond. He moved away, muttering under his breath, and his lordship resumed his conversation.
No further news having arrived from the frontier, Brussels continued its normal life. It was generally supposed that the previous night's report had been another false alarm. The usual crowd of fashionables promenaded in the Park; ladies looked over their gowns for the Duchess of Richmond's ball; gentleman hurried to the market to order posies for their inamoratas.
Colonel Audley had left his brother's house before Juith was up, but he came in about midday for a few minutes. There was no news; he told her briefly that the chances were that the concentration on Maubeuge was a prelude to a feint; and was able to assure her that no alarm was felt at Headquarters. The Duchess of Richmond's ball would certainly take place; the Prince of Orange was coming in from Braine-le-Comte to dine with the Duke about three; Lord Hill was already in Brussels; and Uxbridge and a host of divisional and brigade commanders were expected to arrive during the course of the afternoon, for the purpose of attending the ball. This certainly did not seem as though an outbreak of hostilities was expected; any further confirmation was later received from Georgiana Lennox, who, meeting Judith on a shopping errand during the afternoon, was able to report that Lord Hill had called in the Rue de la Blanchisserie, and had disclaimed any knowledge of movement on the frontier.
The Prince of Orange arrived in Brussels shortly after two o'clock, in his usual spirits, and after changing his dress in his house in the Rue de Brabant, went round to Headquarters. He had heard no further news , set very little store by the previous night's report, and had ridden in light-heartedly to take part in the evening's festivities, leaving Constant de Rebecque in charge at Braine-le-Comte.
'Well, well!' drawled Fremantle, when his Highness had gone off upstairs to pay his respects to the Duke 'Our Corps Commander! One comfort is that old Constant will do much better without him. Think there's anything brewing, Canning?'
'I don't know. Another hum, I daresay. Muffling has heard nothing: he was in here a few minutes ago.'
The Duke dined early, sitting down to table with the Prince of Orange and the various members of his staff. At three o'clock a despatch was brought in for the Prince, from Braine-le-Comte. It was from Constant, containing a report received from General Behr at Mons, just after the Prince's departure from his headquarters. The 2nd Prussian Brigade of Ziethen's 1st Corps had been attacked early that morning, and alarm guns fired all along the line. The attack seemed to be directed on Charleroi.
The Duke ran his eye over the despatch. 'H'm! Sent off at 9.30, I see. Doesn't tell us much.'
'Behr had it from General Steinmetz, through Van Vlerlen,' said the Prince. 'That would put the attack in the small hours, for Steinmetz's despatch you see, was sent off from Fontaine-l'Eveque. Sir, do you think -?'
'Don't think anything,' said his lordship. 'I shall hear from Grant presently.'
At four o'clock Muffling came in with a despatch from General Ziethen, which was dated 9a.m. from Charleroi. It contained the brief information that the Prussians had been engaged since 4a.m. Thuin had been captured by the French, and the Prussian outposts driven back. General Ziethen hoped the Duke would concentrate his army on Nivelles, seven miles to she west of the main Charleroi-Brussels chaussee.
The Duke remained for some moments deep in thought. Muffling presently said: 'How will you assemble your army, sir?'
The Duke replied in his decided way: 'I will order all to be ready for instant march, but I must wait for advice from Mons before fixing a rendezvous.'
'Prince Blucher will concentrate on Ligny, if he has not already done so.'
