a dissolute soak, as well as a charmer. He would tell the most outrageous lies about how his fortune had been delayed in reaching him; or he had had his money bags stolen; or the lawyers were holding up his inheritance over a technicality, which would soon be resolved; or he had been cheated by a scoundrel, none of which was true, but it was said with a charming smile, an air of apology, even a false tear or two, and somehow he would find someone to believe him and lend him money. Sophie had made up her mind she would never put her trust in a man, though she had once loved her father. He had been fun when she was a small child, giving her little treats when he was in funds, taking her out riding on her little pony, talking to her of things way above the heads of most children of her age, which she soaked up like a sponge. Surely an education such as she had enjoyed must stand her in good stead?
Before she left she meant to say goodbye to her parents and so she put on her straw bonnet, tied with black ribbons in deference to her state of mourning, and set off for the nearby church where so many British people were buried: soldiers, sailors, diplomats who had died while on a tour of duty, tourists who had succumbed to the climate or to sickness, exiles like her parents. She knelt a little while by their graves, murmuring tearful goodbyes, then stood up and consciously straightened her shoulders, ready to meet her future with courage.
They should not miss the opportunity to go to Paris, Lord Myers maintained over supper the evening Sophie arrived, when they were discussing the best way to reach England. ‘The Comte de Provence has been declared King Louis XVIII and has arrived in Paris to take up his throne; according to my informant, the whole world is flocking there in his wake, all eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Duke of Wellington.’ The British commander had won the last great battle of the campaign by taking Toulouse and had been honoured with a dukedom for it. He was expected to stop in Paris to pay his respects to the new king and greet his ally Marshal Blücher before returning home. ‘We could be there, when he is there. What do you say, Alicia, my dear?’
He was only slightly taller than his wife, a little more rotund than she was, with a round red face and pale whiskers. Sophie was unsure who wore the breeches, him or his wife, but they seemed to jolly each other along, being excessively polite to each other. ‘Why, I should like that very much,’ her ladyship said. ‘You know how I dislike the sea, especially in the Bay of Biscay.’ She gave a little shudder and turned to Sophie. ‘I shall never forget the voyage coming out. The ship nearly overturned and I was so unwell I thought my end had come.’
‘I am happy to do whatever you say,’ Sophie said.
‘Then I think we should set out as soon as possible, or we shall miss him,’ his lordship decided. ‘Lady wife, when can you be ready?’
‘Goodness, my lord, you should know me by now. I can be ready tomorrow if you so wish.’ She turned, laughing, to Sophie. ‘We moved so often when Lord Myers was in the diplomatic service I had it down to a fine art. Everything is labelled to match the chests and trunks, so that it is only a question of organising the servants while Lord Myers deals with the transport.’
‘I’ve done that,’ he said. ‘The bulk of the stuff will go by sea, we shall take only what is needed for our personal comfort. I noticed Miss Langford likes to travel light, which is very sensible of her.’
Sophie smiled. He was as kind as his wife to make excuses for her lack of baggage. ‘I need not unpack then. My only hesitation is because there has been no time to receive a reply to my letter to the Duke of Belfont.’
‘That is of no consequence, my dear,’ Lady Myers put in. ‘We have already agreed that you shall come to England with us, so it makes no difference what his reply is. We will deal with the Duke when we arrive.’
How did one deal with a duke? Sophie asked herself. Lady Myers was evidently not daunted by the prospect, but Sophie herself could not help wondering about him. He was obviously younger than his brother from whom he had inherited the title, but, even so, he must be in his sixties. Was he a crabby old man, or had age made him tolerant? She hoped the latter if he was to overcome the family’s antagonism towards the Langfords, of which she was one. If the reaction of her father’s brother was a yardstick of what she might expect, then she had a mountain to climb. Going home overland would delay the moment of truth and for that reason alone she was willing to fall in with Lord Myers’s plans. Besides, seeing Paris again and being able to compare it with the Paris of ten years before, and talking to the people, would provide more material for her book. She was beginning to set great store by the book.
Two days later they set out in his lordship’s coach, followed by another bearing his valet, a footman and her ladyship’s maid and their luggage. They were all hardened travellers so the discomfort of the journey, bad roads, unsavoury inns, baking sun and torrential rain were endured with fortitude. It took a week to cross into France and then the hazards were not so much natural as man-made. Napoleon might have abdicated and been exiled to the island of Elba, but he was far from discredited with his people. Bands of marauding soldiers with no one to lead them attacked travellers, shouting ‘Vive L’Empereur’ and ‘He will be back!’ It was only Sophie’s skill as a linguist that convinced them they were not the enemy, but friends who would rejoice at Bonaparte’s triumphant return. It was quite frightening at times, worse than being an alien in Italy, which was itself a conquered nation, and she was relieved when their carriage drew up outside the Hôtel de Luxembourg in Paris.
The city was so full it was almost impossible to move and if Lord Myers had not sent ahead to bespeak rooms, they would never have found a pillow on which to lay their heads. Their rooms were comfortable, but they were so tired it would not have mattered what they were like and Sophie slept soundly.
After breakfast the following day the two ladies, accompanied by her ladyship’s maid and the footman, set out on foot to explore the city while Lord Myers went off to call on the Duke of Wellington and to pay his respects to the new monarch, though how long the latter could hold on to his crown, Sophie was doubtful. He was no more popular with his subjects than the Regent was in England.
Although the city had been spared a battle it looked shabby and dirty, a state that was not improved by the mass of common soldiery, mostly Austrian and Prussian, who roamed the streets and lived in tented quarters in the parks, behaving like turkey cocks, mixing with the tourists who came in the thousands. The ladies were agog to see the fashions, rakes and dandies come to chance their arms either with the ladies or at cards; some had come to view the art treasures Napoleon had looted from the cities he occupied, some even to sample the food and wine, though how they expected that to be as good as before the war Sophie did not know.
Strolling down the wide boulevards and busy side streets, Sophie was startled by the contrast between the rich tourists and well-stocked shops and the abject poverty of the inhabitants who importuned them for alms or offered items for sale that Sophie, even in her own pocket-pinched state, would have consigned to the midden heap. ‘I do not feel at all comfortable,’ her ladyship said, as they were roughly pushed aside by an officer trying to control a mob bent on raiding a baker’s shop. ‘Let us go back to our hotel.’
It took them half an hour to battle their way through the throng and by that time both had had more than their fill of Paris. ‘Henry, I think we should set off for England at once,’ Lady Myers told her husband when he joined them for supper. ‘I have seen enough of France; besides, if we stay here, Sophie will miss half the Season…’
‘Oh, please do not take that into account,’ Sophie said. ‘I shall be content simply to have a roof over my head.’
‘Fustian! I undertook to bring you out and bring you out I shall. That is if Dersingham is so ungracious as to refuse you, which I am persuaded he will not. After all, he is a duke and duty-bound to look to his family. Lord Myers, are you set on staying?’
‘Not
