The Reckoning (4 page)

Lucy understood nothing of such matters, but gold
currency was a feature of her youth and it had a solid, re
assuring sound in a world suddenly grown unfamiliar. 'Quite
right,' she said. 'We should never have got away from gold.
This paper money was the start of all our troubles.’

Anstey almost smiled. 'You may be right. But we can't do
it for a year or two – especially with the landowners pressing
us to abolish the income tax.'

‘
Oh, income tax – I hate the very sound of it! As well be in
the paws of the cent-per-cents, as pay income tax, I always
say!' Lucy exclaimed.

Anstey met Theakston's eye and both burst out laughing.
‘Oh Lucy, what do you know about money-lenders?' Anstey
said.

‘
Enough to know you might as well be dead,' she retorted. ‘So will things be getting back to normal soon?' she went on,
looking up at Anstey hopefully.

‘
Not soon. I'm afraid it will get worse before it's better.'

‘
But why, John? What's gone wrong? Now the war's over –'

‘
It's very complicated,' Anstey said patiently. 'It's not just
us, you see, but all the rest of Europe, too. No-one can afford
to buy our goods, so the manufactories and workshops have
to stop producing. They lay off the hands, and men out of
work can't afford to buy the food the farms produce, so farm
hands are laid off too. There's unemployment everywhere.'

‘Even in the coal mines? I thought you were doing so well?'

‘
We were, a couple of years ago. The increase in steam-
engine machinery meant every machine needed coal. But now
the manufactories are idle, so I've had to turn off men as
well. Everything's connected, you see, Lucy. We're all
involved. I dare say even your returns have fallen.'

‘
I wouldn't know about that,' Lucy said blankly. 'My agent
sees to all that. But in any case, we've always lived in a pretty
small way, so I daresay we keep ahead with the world.’

Anstey boggled at the idea of Lucy living 'in a small way',
and even Danby coughed a little and hid a smile with his
hand.

Lucy didn't notice, pursuing thoughts of her own. 'Are you
in trouble, then, John?'

‘
Good Lord no,' he said quickly. 'Things aren't come to
that pass yet.'

‘
Well, I'm glad to hear it. Only so many people are going to
the wall, it makes one nervous.'

‘
Oh, I'm not completely to pieces yet,' Anstey smiled. 'I've
enough to spare, at any rate, to bid for Brummell's Mantons.
I've always coveted them.’

Theakston nodded. 'They're capital pieces; but Hobhouse
is after 'em too, so be sure you don't just bid each other up.'

‘
Thanks for the warning. Are you after anything in parti
cular?'

‘
George's cellar,' Danby admitted. 'Ten dozen of port, and
sixteen dozen of burgundy, claret and champagne. I helped
him lay 'em down, in happier days. Know he'd sooner I drank
'em than one of your Russell Square types.’

Anstey sighed. 'It's a bad business, but it can't be helped.
Ah, there's Mr Christie going into the dining-room now. I
think we must be about to begin. Shall we go in? May I offer
you my arm, Lucy? Hullo, isn't that Harriette Wilson?
Everyone seems to be here, don't they? And there's Tom
Raikes. And young Scrope Davies – I hear he's almost as far
up the River Tick as poor Brummell was.’

*

By the hour of Promenade the rain had stopped, leaving the
afternoon grey, cold and gusty. It was enough for Lucy,
having been confined indoors all day. She put on her driving-
coat and, in memory of the departed Beau, one of her more
dashing hats, and went out for a drive in the Park.

The dreadful weather so far that year had evidently
lowered many people's expectations, for there was far more of
a crowd than might have been expected, most of them driving
or riding. Lucy's progress was slow, for everyone seemed to
want to discuss Brummell's downfall, who had guessed it was
coming, what it would mean for Society, and who had got
what at the auction.

Lucy bore with the remarks of the genuinely concerned as patiently as possible; the merely impertinent got short shrift;
but at last she had had enough of it, and with the justification that her horses were getting cold, drove on at too smart a trot
for anyone else to accost her.

They were almost round at the Stanhope Gate again, when
Parslow murmured discreetly, 'Lady Greyshott, my lady, on
your right, if you should want to look the other way.'

‘
No, it's all right – Lady Greyshott I don't mind,' Lucy
said, slowing her team.

Helena Greyshott was a distant cousin, and an exact
contemporary of Lucy's. Her career through Society had been
even more exciting and scandalous than Lucy's, and many
had been the duels fought over her, both before and after her
marriage. Her husband, a lazy and cynical dilettante consid
erably her senior, had made it known from the beginning that he did not mean ever to go out on his wife's behalf. The meet
ings had therefore taken place between rivals for her affec
tions, which, coupled with the fact that Lady Greyshott
herself liked to be present, caused a number of the stickier
hostesses to strike her from their visiting-lists.

Helena Greyshott cared not a whit; though of late she had
grown comparatively staid, having found true happiness at
last, it seemed, in the affections of a single lover, a Captain of
the Blues who had enjoyed her favours for the last two years.
She came striding towards Lucy now, her little feet heedless
of the puddles which splashed the smart black galoshing of
her boots, or the mud which decorated the flounce of her
gown and the hem of her pelisse.

She had with her her thirteen-year-old daughter Thalia, an
extremely pretty girl who was popularly supposed to have
been fathered by Sir Henry Mildmay. In fact she was
Greyshott's child, but neither parent bothered to deny the
rumours. The Honourable Thalia Hampton was looking far
less pleased with the mud and puddles than her mother, and
was trailing a pace or two behind, her heavenly violet eyes
stormy.

Lucy halted her blacks and Parslow jumped down to go to
their heads.

‘
Lucy! Thank heaven for someone sensible to talk to at last,' Helena said. 'I came out for a walk to get away from
callers. Nobody has anything to say but how bad the weather
is and who is the latest bankrupt.'

‘How are you, Helena? How's Captain Twombley?’

Lady Greyshott laughed. 'Oh dear, poor Harry! But I
really can't help it – every single time I hear his ridiculous
name ...! I keep begging him to change it, but he says he likes
to surprise people: Twombley by name but not at all by
nature! He's away at the moment, in Vienna, which accounts for my foul temper. The rain accounts for Thalia's. Do stand
up straight, my darling. You look like an old woman.’

Thalia scowled fearfully, and Lucy took pity on her. 'Per
haps you'd like to take a turn round the Park with me?'

‘
Not I!' Helena said quickly. 'You get down and walk with me, Lucy. You know I can't bear to be driven by anyone else
– not even you.’

Lucy caught Parslow's eye and read the slight flick of his head. 'Very well,' she said. 'I'll walk with you, and Parslow
can take Thalia round. Would you like that?'

‘
Oh yes please, Lady Theakston,' Thalia said quickly. To drive behind Lucy's famous blacks – and with Parslow, who
was a legend with her generation – and most of all not to have
to be walking in the mud – was a delightful prospect. The
exchange was quickly made, and Parslow drove off with the
slight figure tense with excitement beside him, while Lucy
and Helena linked arms and walked off in his wake.

‘
Poor Thalia hates the rain,' Helena remarked. 'She's
getting as vain as a monkey. I dread to think what she'll be
like in four years' time.' Lucy looked a question. ‘Ceddie
doesn't want her brought out until she's eighteen, but I've
told him we won't be able to hold her back so long. I wanted
sixteen, so we've compromised.'

‘Seventeen's a good enough age.'

‘
Rosamund was seventeen, wasn't she? How is she now?
Has she got over that awful business in Brussels?'

‘
Oh, I think so. Tantony was a nice enough man, but I
don't think she was violently in love with him.'

‘
I didn't mean that,' Helena said. 'I was thinking of her
helping you tend the wounded. Harry told me what Brussels
was like after the battle. And then watching poor Bobbie
Chelmsford die. It must have been a terrible shock to her
nerves.’

Lucy pondered the idea. 'I suppose it may have been. I'd
never thought of Rosamund's having nerves. She didn't seem
to be particularly upset.'

‘
But didn't she go out of Town to recover? I'd heard that
she was rusticating.'

‘
She's staying with her cousin Sophie, but that's more for
Sophie's sake. Now that
was a
tragedy. Sophie was quite nutty on her Major Larosse – and with her disadvantages
she's not likely soon to replace him.'

‘
Hmm. Whereas Rosamund's already got another suitor,
from what I hear. They say Marcus Chelmsford means to
make an offer for her. Or has he spoken already?'

‘
He's made his intentions pretty clear,' Lucy said. 'I've no
objections. If she wants him, she shall have him. I've grown to
like her a lot since Brussels, and I wouldn't stand in her way.
She's always liked Marcus, and I want her to marry someone
she'll be happy with.'

‘
I feel the same way about Thalia. Lord! If only our
mothers had been as understanding! Not that I've been
unhappy with Ceddie, of course. He and I rub along together
well enough. Still, I think it would have been nice to have
been married to someone I loved, the way I love Harry. But
things were different in our day, of course.'

‘
They certainly were. I was only fifteen when I was married
for the first time.'

‘
Girls today are lucky. Except, I suppose, a good many of
them may never marry at all, with so many of our young men
falling at Waterloo ... You'd better encourage Rosamund to
snap Marcus up as soon as possible. There'll be plenty of
others after him.'