Miss Taverner’s first visit to the Pavilion had soon been followed by others, for the Regent, while at Brighton, liked to hold informal parties in his summer-palace, and was always very easy of access, and affable to the humblest of his guests. It was not to be supposed that he should feel as much interest in Peregrine as in his sister, but even Peregrine had been invited to dine at the Pavilion once, and had gone there in a state of considerable awe, and returned home dazzled by the magnificence of the state apartments, and slightly fuddled by the Regent’s famous Diabolino brandy. He had tried to describe the Banqueting-room to his sister, but he had retained so confused an impression of it that he could only say that he had sat at an immensely long table, under a thirty-foot lustre, all glass pearls, and rubies, and tassels of brilliants, which hung from a dome painted like an eastern sky, with the foliage of a giant plantain tree spreading over it. He had thought no chains had been strong enough to hold such a lustre; he had not been able to take his eyes from it. For the rest he dimly remembered golden pillars, and silver chequer-work, huge Chinese paintings on a groundwork of inlaid pearl, mirrors flashing back the lights of the lustres, crimson draperies and chairs, and piers between the windows covered with fluted silks of pale blue. He had counted five rosewood sideboards, and four doors of rich japan-work. He had never been in such a room in his life. As for the entertainment he had had, nothing was ever like it! Such a very handsome dinner, with he dared not say how many wines to drink, and no less than a dozen sorts of snuff placed on the table as soon as the covers were removed!
The Regent did not invite ladies to his dinner-parties, because there was no hostess to receive them, but they flocked to his concerts, and his receptions. Mrs. Scattergood, remembering pleasant evenings spent at the Pavilion when Mrs. FitzHerbert received guests there, shook her head, and said: “Ah, poor soul! People may say what they please, but I shall always hold that she was his true wife. And so, I hear, does the Princess of Wales, though it is an odd thing for her to say, to be sure!”
“Yet you would have had me accept Clarence’s offer,” remarked Miss Taverner.
“No, indeed, I would not. That was nothing but a notion that just entered my head. These morganatic marriages are not at all the thing, though for my part I could never find it in me to blame Mrs. FitzHerbert for marrying the Prince. He was so extremely handsome! He is a little stout now, but I shall always think of him as I first saw him, in a pink satin coat sewn with pearls, and a complexion any female would have given her eyes to possess!”
“His complexion is very sallow now,” observed Miss Taverner. “I am afraid he has a sickly constitution.”
But although Mrs. Scattergood would allow that the Regent did not enjoy the best of health, she could not be brought to see that time and self-indulgence had coarsened his features. He was the fairy-prince of her girlhood, and she would listen to nothing said in his disparagement. Miss Taverner was sorry for it, since the frequent visits to the Pavilion were not entirely to her taste. The Regent was fifty years old, but he had an eye to a pretty woman, and although there was nothing in his manner to alarm her, Miss Taverner could not be at her ease with Him. Mrs. Scattergood, whose native shrewdness was overset by the distinguishing notice the Regent bestowed on her, spoke of his attitude to her charge as fatherly, and said that Judith should consider herself honoured by his kindness. She wondered that Judith should not care to go to the Pavilion, and reminded her that Royal invitations were tantamount to commands. So Miss Taverner allowed herself to be taken there two or three times a week, until the glories of the Gallery, and the Music Room, and the Saloon became so well known to her that they no longer seemed at all out of the common. She had the treat of hearing Viotti play the violin there, and Wiepart the harp; she had been present at a very select and convivial party, when the Regent, after listening to several glees, was prevailed upon to sing By the gaily flowing glass, for the edification of the company; she had been shown such objects of vertu as the tortoiseshell table in the Green Drawing-room, and the pagodas in the Saloon; and she had had the doubtful honour of receiving the advances of the Duke of Cumberland. She could not feel that the Pavilion held any further surprises for her, and when she set out with Mrs. Scattergood for Thursday’s party there, quite shocked that good lady by announcing that she had rather have been going to the ball at the Old Ship.
Upon their arrival at the Pavilion it was discovered that this was not to be one of the Regent’s musical gatherings, but a conversable evening spent in the Gallery and the over-heated Saloon. This was a big, round apartment, the centre of the suite on the eastern front of the building, surmounted by the inevitable cupola, and enlarged by two semi-circular recesses. Ruby and gold were the predominant colours, and several magnificent lustres, reflected in long pier-glasses, gave to the room an effulgence that was as remarkable as it was dazzling.
Miss Taverner looked about her to see whether any of her acquaintance were present, and had the satisfaction of observing Captain Audley in conversation with Lord Petersham, whom she had not known to be in Brighton. Captain Audley caught sight of her, and at once brought his companion over to her side. “Come now, Petersham, I insist on your showing it to Miss Taverner!” he said gaily, as Judith shook hands with his lordship. “I know she will be delighted with it. My dear Miss Taverner, this lucky fellow has got a new snuff-box, which is the prettiest I have seen these ten years!”
“Oh, Lord Petersham has all the prettiest snuff-boxes in his possession!” smiled Miss Taverner. “I have one to match each gown, but he has one for every day in the year. Do, pray, show me this new one, sir! Ah yes, it is charming indeed. Sevres, I think?”
“Yes,” acknowledged Petersham, in his gentle way. “It is a nice box for summer, but it would not do for winter wear, you know.”