She was considerably taken aback by the vehemence of this speech, nor did its import produce any of that comfort which was presumably its object. The evils of her situation seemed to become greater; she said in a desponding tone: “He has never given me any reason for suspecting him of having a regard for me.”
He looked at her intently. “To me it has seemed otherwise. I have sometimes been afraid that you were even inclined to return his partiality.”
“Certainly not!” she said emphatically. “Such a notion is absurd! I care nothing for his good opinion, and look forward to the day when I shall be free from his guardianship.”
He said with meaning: “And I, too, look forward to that day, Judith.”
Upon the following evening Mrs. Scattergood and Miss Taverner drove in a closed carriage to the Pavilion, and were set down at the domed porch punctually at nine o’clock, and ushered through an octagonal vestibule, which was lit by a Chinese lantern suspended from the centre of the tented roof, into the entrance hall, a square apartment with a ceiling painted to represent an azure sky with fleecy clouds. Here they were able to leave their shawls, and to peep anxiously at their reflections in the mirror over the marble mantelpiece.
Mrs. Scattergood gave their names to one of the flunkeys who stood on either side of the door at the back of the hall; the man announced them, and they passed through the door into the Chinese Gallery.
A numerous company was gathered here, and the Prince Regent was standing in the central division of the gallery in a position to welcome his guests as they came in. His resplendent figure instantly caught the eye, for he had a great inclination towards finery, and his girth, which was considerable, did not prevent him from wearing the most gorgeous waistcoats and coloured coats. His doctors had forbidden him on pain of death to remedy the defects of his figure with tight-lacing, and since he was always very anxious over the state of his own health, he obeyed them. But in spite of his corpulence, and the lines of dissipation that marred his countenance, there were still some traces to be found of the Prince Florizel who had captivated the world thirty-odd years before.
As Mrs. Scattergood, rising from a deep curtsy, begged leave to present Miss Taverner, he smiled, and shook hands with a good-humoured condescension which had often endeared many people to him whom he afterwards contrived without the least difficulty to alienate. With that easy courtesy he knew so well how to assume he insisted that he remembered Mrs. Scattergood well, was happy to see her again (and in such looks), and very glad to make the acquaintance of her young friend. It was difficult to realize that so affable a prince had done what he could to assist in oversetting his father’s precarious reason, had discarded two wives, and heartlessly abandoned any friend of whom he had happened to tire. Miss Taverner knew him to be selfish, capricious, given over to every form of excess, but she could not remember it when he turned to her and said with his attractive smile and air of kindness: “You must know, Miss Taverner, that from one member of my family I have heard so much in your praise that I have been anxious indeed to meet you!”
She hardly knew where to look, but chancing to meet his eyes, which were twinkling archly, she was emboldened to return his smile, and to murmur that he was very kind.
“Is this your first visit to Brighton?” he inquired. “Do you make a long stay? It is a town I have come to regard as so peculiarly my own that it will not be out of place for me to bid you welcome to it.”