They stopped to bait at an inn, and with a meal and a pint of ale inside him Babbington said, ‘I think you are the prettiest girl I have ever seen. You are to change in my room, which I am very glad of, now; and if I had known it was you, I should have bought a pincushion and a large bottle of scent.’
‘You are a very fine figure of a man, too, sir,’ said Diana. ‘I am so happy to be travelling under your protection.’
Babbington’s spirits mounted to an alarming degree; he had been brought up in a service where enterprise counted for everything, and presently it became necessary to occupy his attention with the horse. She had meant to allow him only the dash up the drive, but in the event he held the reins all the way from Newton Priors to the door of Melbury Lodge, where he handed her down in state, to the admiration of two dozen naval eyes.
There was something about Diana, a certain piratical dash and openness, that was very attractive to sea-officers; but they were also much attracted by the two Miss Simmonses’
doll-like prettiness, by Frances dancing down the middle with the tip of her tongue showing as she kept the measure, by Cecilia’s commonplace, healthy good looks, and by all the other charms that were displayed under the blaze of candles in the long handsome ballroom. And they were moon-struck by Sophia’s grace as she and Captain Aubrey opened the ball: Sophia had on a pink dress with a gold sash, and Diana said to Stephen Maturin, ‘She is lovely. There is not another woman in the room to touch her.
That is the most dangerous colour in the world, but with her complexion it is perfect. I would give my eye-teeth for such a skin.’
‘The gold and the pearls help,’ said Stephen. ‘The one echoes her hair and the other her teeth. I will tell you a thing about women. They are superior to men in this, that they have an unfeigned, objective, candid admiration for good looks in other women – a real pleasure in their beauty. Yours, too, is a most elegant dress: other women admire it. I have remarked this. Not only from their glances, but most positively, by standing behind them and listening to their conversation.’
It was a good dress, a light, flimsy version of the naval blue, with white about it – no black, no concessions to Mrs Williams, for it was understood that at a ball any woman was allowed to make the best of herself; but where taste, figure and carriage are equal, a woman who can spend fifty guineas on her dress will look better than one who can only spend ten pounds.
‘We must take our places,’ said Diana a little louder as the second violins struck in and the ballroom filled with sound. It was a fine sight, hung with bunting in the naval way – the signal engage the enemy more closely, among other messages understood by the sailors alone -shining with bees-wax and candlelight, crowded to the doors, and the lane of
dancing figures: pretty dresses, fine coats, white gloves, all reflected in the french windows and in the tall looking-glass behind the band. The whole neighbourhood was there, together with a score of new faces from Portsmouth, Chatham, London, or wherever the peace had cast them on shore; they were all in their best clothes; they were all determined to enjoy themselves; and so far they were succeeding to admiration.
Everyone was pleased, not only by the rarity of a ball (not above three in the season in those parts, apart from the Assembly), but by the handsome, unusual way in which it was done, by the seamen in their blue jackets and pigtails, so very unlike the greasy hired waiters generally to be seen, and by the fact that for once there were more men than women – men in large numbers, all of them eager to dance.
Mrs Williams was sitting with the other parents and chaperons by the double doors into the supper-room, where she could rake the whole line of dancers, and her red face was nodding and smiling – significant smiles, emphatic nods – as she told her cousin Simmons that she had encouraged the whole thing from the beginning. Crossing over in the dance, Diana saw her triumphant face: and the next face she saw, immediately in front of her, was Jack’s as he advanced to hand her about ‘Such a lovely ball, Aubrey,’ she said, with a flashing smile. He was in gold-laced scarlet, a big, commanding figure: his forehead was sweating and his eyes shone with excitement and pleasure. He took her in with benevolent approval, said something meaningless but kind, and whirled her about.
‘Come and sit down,’ said Stephen, at the end of the second dance. ‘You are looking pale.’
‘Am I?’ she cried, looking intently into a mirror. ‘Do I look horrible?’
‘You do not. But you must not get over-tired. Come and sit down in a fresher air. Come into the orangery.’
‘I have promised to stand up with Admiral James. I will come after supper.’
Deserting the supper-table, three sailors, including Admiral James, pursued Diana into the orangery; but they withdrew when they saw Stephen waiting for her there with her shawl.
‘I did not think the doctor had it in him,’ said Mowett. ‘In the Sophie we always looked on him as a sort of monk.’
‘Damn him,’ said Pullings. ‘I thought ‘I was getting on so well.’
‘You are not cold?’ asked Stephen, tucking the shawl
round her shoulders; and as though the physical contact between his hand and her bare flesh established a contact, sending a message that had no need of words, he felt the change of current. But in spite of the intuition he said, ‘Diana…’
‘Tell me,’ she said in a hard voice, cutting right across him, ‘is that Admiral James married?’
‘He is.’
‘I thought so. You can smell the enemy a great way off.’
‘Enemy?’
‘Of course. Don’t be a fool, Maturin. You must know that married men are the worst enemies women can have. Get me something to drink, will you? I am quite faint with all that fug.’
‘This is Sillery; this iced punch.’
‘Thank you. They offer what they call friendship or some stuff of that kind – the name don’t matter – and all they want in return for this great favour is your heart, your life, your future, your – I will not be coarse, but you know very well what I mean. There is no friendship in men: I know what I am talking about, believe me. There is not one round here, from old Admiral Haddock to that young puppy of a curate, who has not tried it: to say nothing of India. Who the devil do they think I am?’ she exclaimed, drumming on the arm of her chair.
‘The only honest one was Southampton, who sent an old woman from Madras to say he would be happy to take me into keeping; and upon my honour, if I had known what my life in England, in this muddy hole with nothing but beer-swilling rustics, was going to be, I should have been tempted to accept. What do you think my life is like, without a sou and under the thumb of a vulgar, pretentious, ignorant woman who detests me? What do you think it is like, looking into this sort of a future, with my looks going, the only thing I have?
Listen, Maturin, I speak openly to you, because I like you; I like you very much, and I believe you have a kindness for me – you are almost the
only man I have met in England I can treat as a friend -trust as a friend.’
‘You have my friendship, sure,’ said Stephen heavily. After a long pause he said with a fair attempt at lightness, ‘You are not altogether just. You look as desirable as you can – that dress, particularly the bosom of that dress, would inflame Saint Anthony, as you know very well. It is unjust to provoke a man and then to complain he is a satyr if the provocation succeeds. You are not a miss upon her promotion, moved by unconscious instinctive…’
‘Do you tell me I am provocative?’ cried Diana.
‘Certainly I do. That is exactly what I am saying. But I do not suppose you know how much you make men suffer. In any case, you are arguing from the particular to the general: you have met some men who wish to take advantage of you, and you go too far Not all French waiters have red hair’
‘They all have red hair somewhere about them, and it shows sooner or later But I do believe you are an exception, Maturin, and that is why I confide in you I cannot tell you what a comfort it is. I was brought up among intelligent men – they were a loose lot on the Madras side and worse in Bombay, but they were intelligent, and oh how I miss them. And what a relief it is to be able to speak freely, after all this swimming in namby-pamby.’