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One of his parliamentary colleagues came up to them, having heard the report too, his genial face beaming. They shook hands and exchanged words of relief and congratulation.
Lord Latimer could not suppress his emotion, aware of the personal repercussions for everyone. ‘I can barely remember when we weren’t at war with that Corsican fiend! Nurse used to make me say my prayers to ask God to protect us from The Devil’s Favourite, so she called him. All were affrighted, sir!’ He grasped his uncle’s arm with the memory.
An almost imperceptible shudder went through Ivor Asprey as he recalled his initial excitement, along with most of the young and the radical, at Napoleon’s cry for freedom. The thought that a new egalitarian order was beginning gripped the imagination and Bonaparte embodied this revolution. ‘You were too young to know the exhilarating dream of liberty from every ancient régime. It was your generation who lived through its terrible souring.’
‘So, God be praised! My papa’s sacrifices were not in vain. When he came home I thought he could not live.’
‘The Duke’s bravery was never in doubt.’ Asprey met his nephew’s sorrowful eyes. ‘We were victorious in Egypt and he played his part.’
‘Now Boney can never be a threat again.’ Lord Latimer’s voice was fervent.
‘I wouldn’t be so sure this is the end of his ambitions. He’s still a prodigy and is a force not spent yet.’
The young man swung round and with an emotional voice cried out, ‘Don’t say that, Uncle! He’s a fiend who’s caused such destruction. He almost destroyed my father and my family, the Devil take him and fry him in Hell!’
He was met with a sympathetic smile. ‘You’re right young hotspur, he is a fiend, but he’s a genius too. Today let’s celebrate the shift in European power at last. Shall I meet you at your club tonight for champagne?’
‘I’m busy until ten. What time after that, sir?’
‘I’m attending Kean’s Hamlet tonight. So I’ll come to White’s on my way home.’
Lord Latimer was about to remount his horse when he paused and gave his uncle a sharp look. ‘What’s up, Uncle? I can’t recall your last visit to any playhouse. Always much more important things to do,’ he said with a mocking laugh.
‘Be gone, young shaver! There’s much interest in the thespian Kean.’
‘No doubt in his beautiful Ophelia too,’ Lord Latimer grimaced as he swung into the saddle. ‘I hope Mama has not asked you to intervene. I’m about to reach my majority and what I do with my affairs is entirely my own business.’
‘I couldn’t agree more, my dear Charles,’ Ivor Asprey drawled, amusement in his eyes as he met his nephew’s scowl. The young man wheeled his horse round and cantered away.
* * *
Angelica slept late. She awoke to the spring sunshine seeping through the heavy silk curtains casting a gleaming light over the room. It had been ten years since she and her mother had moved into Mr Breville’s grand house but she never took for granted the pleasures of a room of her own and freedom from the corrupting grind of poverty and uncertainty. Last night she had been shocked to be reminded just how afraid, cold and hungry she had been as a child. But thanks to the heart and open purse of her mother’s protector she had been educated to be a lady, even if her provenance and her profession suggested otherwise. Her mother had always had great expectations on her behalf. Angelica knew that some alchemy meant she could express emotional truth through her acting that her audiences, however crass or intoxicated, recognised and responded to with feeling. She was grateful to be able to earn a modest living this way, doing something she enjoyed, rather than having to be a lady’s companion or a governess to other women’s children.
The resourceful Mrs Leigh had discovered her own talent for furniture buying and interior decoration, having wheedled a generous budget of 8,000 pounds out of her indulgent benefactor. She had transformed the house into a palace of colour and oriental detail to rival the Prince Regent’s Royal Pavilion at Brighton. When Angelica opened her eyes, the first sight was of small brilliant-plumed birds appearing to flit amongst twining stems of jasmine, clematis and periwinkle. She had loved this hand-painted wallpaper since she had been ten years old and her room was newly decorated; as consciousness dawned each morning she still found it hard to believe she was waking in paradise, and it was hers.
Not knowing quite why, Angelica felt a pulse of excitement ripple through her at the prospect of the life awaiting her, though still unknown. She slipped out of bed, impatient to start the day. Mary had placed in her dressing room a pitcher of hot water and a large Delft bowl ready for her morning wash, and laid out her day dress. She put on the sprigged green muslin gown, simple with its scoop neck and small puff sleeves over straight inner sleeves, and tied the sash just above the waist. Pulling a comb briefly through her mass of wavy hair, she plaited it loosely and coiled it into an informal bun at the nape of her neck. She ran down the stairs to breakfast and found her mother with a cup of coffee, poring over a book of fabric swatches.
‘Good morning, Mama.’ She kissed her on the cheek.
‘You look very sanguine, Angelica.’ Mrs Leigh lifted her shrewd gaze and with a smile inspected her only child. ‘So, tell me what happened last night.’
‘The performance went well enough, but Lord Latimer was keen that I accompany him and his friend to a ball at Lady Marwood’s house afterwards. I agreed but just for a couple of dances.’
‘This sounds very promising, my dear.’ Mrs Leigh purred with pleasure at the thought that matters might be gathering to a head between her precious daughter and this most eligible of young men.
Angelica ignored her mother’s aperçu to continue with her tale. ‘Then Mr Brunner brought me and Mary home, and Lord Latimer and his friend, Dante Locke, decided to accompany us before going on to their club.’
‘So I should hope.’ Mrs Leigh nodded in a satisfied way.
‘Oh Mama, I wish you could think of things other than my capturing a duke’s son!’ Angelica said in an exasperated voice. She had been so dismissive of Lord Latimer’s interest in her, aware of how unlikely it was that anything could ever come of it, but her own feelings had surprised her and made her vulnerable. It was exciting to elicit such desire in a handsome young man and impossible not to recognise that pulse of her own animal spirits in response. This realisation unsettled her and her mother’s blatant matchmaking made her recoil.
She changed the subject to another which exercised her more. ‘We had to take a detour home down the street where we used to live. Seeing it so derelict and dangerous made me think of our life there.’
Amabel Leigh’s face was stricken as she spoke, ‘I am reluctant to remember, Angelica, such desperate times. I wish things had been otherwise. The neighbourhood mothers and I had to scrabble where we could just to feed our children. It was hard for you and for everyone. Don’t judge me.’
Angelica leaned forward earnestly, tears springing to her eyes. ‘Mama, I’d never judge you. I am more grateful than I can say that you kept me, that I didn’t go to the Foundling Hospital. Now I understand why you introduced me to Mr Dunbar at Covent Garden Theatre.’
‘I wanted you to have a chance of a better life. You see, I knew your wit and beauty needed a bigger stage.’
