He was the mighty Duke, England’s great son, the saviour of the world who had freed Europe from the tyrants. His praises were sung in stately mansions and in cottages; men fought out the battle on their table cloths after dinner and we were no exception. How many times had I seen the pepper and salt and cutlery laid out on a table Waterloo. “Here is Napoleon… Here is Wellington. Napoleon wanted to finish off the English before the arrival of Blucher. Wellington’s idea was to hold the ground … here … until they came. And hold the ground they did against all attacks. Now in the afternoon the Prussians were sighted. Here they are approaching. It is the end for Napoleon. He knows it. Ney knows it. They’re beaten. Napoleon flees to Paris. He’s finished. The end of a dream …”
Never, never must he be allowed to come back. That must be the end of Napoleon. The wars he had created were over.
“Long live Peace,” was the universal cry. “Glory to the Victor. Blessings on the great Duke!”
This was a wonderful day for England.
The entire country was rejoicing. Celebration balls were given. There was one at Eversleigh to which the whole neighbourhood and friends from farther afield were invited.
Napoleon had tried to escape from France, but finding this impossible had surrendered to Captain Maitland of the Bellerophon at Rochefort about a month after his defeat at Waterloo. He must be given no opportunities to escape again; and this time he was banished to St. Helena.
This must be the end of him.
And so the celebrations continued. Later people would be counting the enormous cost of the war and complaining about the taxes that had had to be imposed to pay for it. While the war was in progress these had been accepted; it was only when it was over that voices would be raised in protest.
But in the meantime there was little thought beyond the euphoria of victory, and everyone was determined to make the most of it.
We went to London where we received invitations to the Inskips’ ball.
The Inskips were associates of my father, and Lord Inskip was a very important and influential gentleman. This would be one of the most splendid balls of that season of rejoicing.
We needed very special ball gowns for the occasion and my mother said they could not be trusted to our seamstresses. We must go to the Court dressmakers and give ourselves a little time beforehand, because naturally on such an occasion we must be suitably garbed.
Amaryllis was not with us in London, being in no condition to travel and therefore Claudine preferred to stay at home with her. David naturally did not come. He, after all, had not been concerned in the London side of my father’s involvements. So it was just Jonathan, my parents and myself.
My mother and I had a busy time shopping and attending the dressmakers. I had never had such a dress. It was of flame-coloured chiffon, narrow at the waist and a skirt which billowed out in flounce after flounce. It was slightly off my shoulders and my mother said I should wear my hair dressed high with a gold ornament in it. About my neck I was to wear a gold necklace and there were to be gold earrings in my ears.
My mother’s maid spent hours with us both, dressing our hair and making sure that our gowns set as they should and we wore the right accessories.
My mother was beautiful in her favourite shade of peacock blue. Jonathan was his jaunty self and my father looked distinguished and handsome, but I noticed how white his hair had become and that gave me a tremor of alarm. Even he could not live forever, I thought uneasily.
However, those were not reflections for such a day.
We set out in the carriage for the Inskips’ mansion which was close to the Park. There Lord and Lady Inskip received us most graciously and as we mingled with the glittering guests our magnificent dresses seemed suddenly to become commonplace among that throng.
Dancing was in progress in the ballroom and I danced with Jonathan. My mother and father danced together. When it was over a young man approached. He knew Jonathan who introduced us and he and I went into the next dance.
There followed the cotillion and the quadrille. Conversation was light and meaningless as it is on these occasions for one cannot very well talk of anything of moment when one is being whirled round the ballroom.
It was when the quadrille was over that I looked up suddenly and saw a man coming towards me. There was something familiar about him. He was very tall and so lean that he looked even taller than he actually was; his hair was dark, his eyes a lively brown; and there was something in his face which suggested that he found life very amusing—in fact something of a joke. I wondered vaguely why I should notice so much in such a short time. It might have been because I had seen it all before.
I must have stared at him, showing some interest.
“I believe,” he said, “that we have met before.”
He stood before me, smiling. “You don’t remember me evidently.”
“I … am not sure.”
“Perhaps it is a long time ago. Would you care to dance?”
“Yes,” I replied.
He took my hands and excitement gripped me. He was very like … He couldn’t be, of course. That would be impossible.
“When I caught sight of you,” he said, “I was taken back … years ago. I thought we had met before.”
“I had the same feeling. Do you live in London?”
“I have a place here … a small house. My home is in Cornwall.”
“I don’t think we can possibly have met before. But you are so like someone I knew once … when I was a child … briefly. He was … a gypsy.”
I saw his mouth twitch. “Don’t be afraid to tell me. He was a wicked character, was he? Someone it was not right that a well-brought-up young lady should know? And I resemble him?”
“Well, in a way you do. But there is a difference.”
“How long ago was this?”
“Nine years.”
“You remember so promptly.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Tell me how different I am from him?”
“Your skin is more brown.”
“That’s the Australian sun.”
My heart began to beat very fast. “You have been in Australia?”
“As a matter of fact I have but recently returned. I have been in England some six months. You have changed … more than I have. After all you were only a little girl. I was at least grown up. But nine years can do something to a man, especially when they are nine such as I have had.”
“You can’t be …”
“Yes, I am.”
“What a strange coincidence.”
“We should have met sooner or later. I was planning to come down your way to see what had happened after all those years.”
“Are you really Romany Jake?”
“I confess I am.”
“They sent you away …”
“For seven years.”
“And now you are free.”
He nodded. “There is one thing I never forget,” he said. “I should not be here but for a certain young lady.”
“You know that I didn’t betray you then?”
“I never thought that you did. Well, perhaps for just a little while when I came out of that house and they were there with you.”
“I suffered agonies. Then I made my father help you.”
“It would have been the end of me if you hadn’t.”
“I can’t tell you how glad I was when I knew your life was spared. There is so much I want to know. It is difficult to talk here.”
“There is a garden. We’ll slip away and find a corner down there where it is quieter. I have much to tell you.”
He took my hand and we went out of the ballroom and down the stairs. The Inskip garden faced the Park and beyond the wall it stretched out before us—the trees reaching out to the midnight blue sky, the stars shining there and the light of a crescent moon turning the Serpentine to silver. It was a perfect night but I was hardly aware of it. I was not aware of anything much but the man at my side.