An Infamous Army

by Georgette Heyer

Here the chaussee diverged, one fork continuing over the brow of a hill, and crossing, a little over half a mile beyond Mont St Jean, an unpaved hollow road running from Wavre to Braine l'Alleud, towards Charleroi; and the other running in a south-westerly direction towards Nivelles. The Nivelles road, which the coachman had been instructed to follow, was straight and uninteresting, bordered by straggling hedges, and proceeding over undulating ground until it descended presently between high banks into a ravine extending from the village of Merbe Braine to Hougoumont.

The Chateau was situated to the south of the hollow road from Wavre, which here, having taken a turn to the south-west, crossed the Nivelles chaussee; and to the east of the chaussee, from which it was approached by an avenue of fine elm trees. The Count's directions had been exact; the coachman turned into the avenue without hesitation; and the carriage bowled along under the spreading branches, and soon passed through the northern gateway of the Chateau. The travellers found themselves in a paved courtyard, surrounded by a motley collection of buildings.

The Chateau was one of the many such residences to be found in the Netherlands, a semi-fortified house, half manor, half farm. The Chateau itself, built of stone and brick, was a pretty house, with shuttered windows; there was a small chapel at the southern end of the courtyard; and opposite the Chateau, on the western side, were some picturesque barns. A gardener's cottage and a cowshed made up the rest of the buildings, which were all clustered together in a friendly fashion, and oathed, at this moment, in pale spring sunlight.

As the barouche drew up outside the door of the Chateau, Barbara strolled out, with the tail of her habit caught up over one arm, and a glass of wine in her hand. She had taken off her hat, and her short red curls were clustering over her head in not unpleasing disorder. She looked rather mannish, and neither her eyes nor her glancing smile held a hint of the softness which Judith had seen in both the day before.

"Have you had a pleasant drive?" she called out. "We beat you, you observe."

"Yes, a delightful drive," replied Judith, stepping out of the carriage. "And I have now fallen quite in love with this pretty little Chateau! How cosy it is! There is nothing stiff, nothing at all formal about these Flemish country houses."

Lavisse came out of the house at this moment, and while he welcomed the ladies, and directed the coachman where to stable his horses, Barbara stood leaning negligently against the door-post, sipping her wine and blinking, catlike, at the sunshine.

The owner of the house was away, but Lavisse, who appeared to be quite at home, had advised the housekeeper of his advent, and a light luncheon had been prepared for the party. A fille de chambre conducted the ladies upstairs to a bedroom where they could leave their pelisses and bonnets, and when they were ready led them down again to a parlour overlooking a walled garden with an orchard beyond.

A table had been laid in the middle of the room, and a fire burned in the hearth. Barbara was lounging in the window, leaning her shoulders against the lintel. As Judith and Harriet came in, a burst of laughter from the two men indicated that she was in funning humour.

The Count at once came forward. He drew Harriet to a chair by the fire, declaring that she must be chilled from the long drive, and insisted on her taking a glass of wine. She accepted, and he stayed by her, engaging her in conversation, while Judith went to the window to admire the garden.