Young bloods

Arthur stared at his mother, then glanced down at her gloved hand clutching his limp fingers. He fought back the frustration and anger welling up inside. 'Yes, Mother, whatever you say…'

Chapter 30

'Ah! I see that you have a musician in the family,' Monsieur Goubert smiled, as he caught sight of a violin case amongst the bags being unloaded from the carriage.There were several valises, a collection of hatboxes, a chest of toiletries, some boxes of books and sheet music piled in front of the door of the lawyer's house. It was an imposing residence, a short distance from the centre of Brussels, and for several years Monsieur Louis Goubert had let suites of rooms to foreigners attracted by the reasonable cost of rent and amenities in Brussels. Most of his tenants were down-at-heel aristocrats looking for somewhere more affordable to live while keeping up the appearance of being from the finest families in Europe. As a result Brussels had become a far more interesting place in recent years and Monsieur Goubert welcomed the arrival of socialites into the city, whose lustre might just rub off on him and his wife. Socialites like this English lady, and her young son.

'Yes, indeed,' Lady Mornington regarded the violin case. 'My boy Arthur does occasionally like to strum the instrument.'

Arthur winced at the gibe, but kept his mouth shut and forced himself to smile.There was no point in rising to the bait. Since he had left Eton and come to live with her, Arthur had learned the rules of the game quickly enough. If the whim took her, his mother could become extremely cutting and sarcastic to enemy, friend and family alike. If one took offence then she would accuse her victim of being too sensitive and lacking in humour. If the target of her spite chose to respond in kind, she would become hurt, and burst into tears. And, as Arthur had quickly discovered, there would follow a long tirade about filial ingratitude and the suffering of a widow left in reduced circumstances by a spend-thrift husband and a useless fiddler for a son. Arthur found such accusations particularly painful and therefore did his best to avoid provoking his mother.

Monsieur Goubert turned to the boy. 'Well, I must say, it would be a pleasure to hear you perform, sir. Indeed, there is in my house another boy your own age who professes to like music. The Honourable John Armitage. I must introduce you to him as soon as you have settled in.'

'Please do,' said Lady Mornington. 'It would be good for Arthur to make some friends. God knows, he has few enough.'

'Aha!' Monsieur Goubert laughed, and slapped his chest. 'The robust English humour!'

A

'I, er, thought that Your Ladyship…'The lawyer wilted under her gaze and turned back to Arthur. 'Later then, if you wish.'

'Thank you, sir.' Arthur bowed his head. 'I would be most grateful for the introduction.'

'Good.' Monsieur Goubert smiled. 'Now I must be off to work. I trust you will settle in well.'

'We will do our best,' A

'I'm sure you will be most comfortable, my lady.' Monsieur Goubert raised his hat. 'Until later.'

He waddled down the steps and then walked up the street with a stiff rolling gait.

He seems a nice enough man,' said Arthur, with a quick glance towards his mother, 'for a landlord.'

'Quite.' A

'Mother, things have changed,' Arthur said gently. 'We ca

'Ha! And pigs might fly.' She turned to the men unloading the carriage and ordered them, in French, to take the luggage up at once. Then she took her son's arm. 'Come, Arthur, let's go inside and inspect our little bolt hole.'

The suite of rooms that she had taken were on the second floor and comprised an entrance hall, two bedrooms, a parlour and a study. There was a bathroom at the end of the landing that was shared with the occupants of the other suite on the second floor – a Norwegian merchant and his family.The rooms were all of a decent size and comfortably, but not expensively, furnished. Even so, Arthur watched his mother make her way round, ru

'It will do, for now.'

Lady Mornington did her best to settle into Brussels society as swiftly as possible.Within days of their arrival she and Arthur were invited to a ball at the Chambre de Palais, a formal affair of silk gowns, glittering jewellery and military decorations. As his mother launched herself into the corner of the room taken over by Brussels' English contingent, Arthur climbed up to the gallery that ran along the sides of the ballroom and, leaning against the pillar, he gazed down at the hundreds of guests milling around below. The loud warbling of conversation was pierced here and there by the shrill laughter of women but he could not pick out a word of what was being said. He idly wondered if there was indeed anything being said – anything worth listening to, at least. He spotted his mother, engaged in animated discussion with an army officer. The latter stood tall and aloof, in shiny black boots that reached up to his knees and ended in a golden tassel. He was a tall, slender man with cropped, curly brown hair above a thin face dominated by a long prominent nose.

With a shock, Arthur realised that this was how he might look in years to come. He watched the man with a growing sense of fascination and saw how he conversed with another man in a constrained and dignified ma

Arthur's attention was drawn to some motion on the far side of the ballroom. The musicians started to take up their positions. As the musicians took their instruments out of their cases and began to tune the strings and resin their bows, the orchestra leader distributed the sheet music. It was a small orchestra for an event this size, and reflected the less affluent nature of Brussels' social circles.

At length the orchestra appeared to be ready and the conductor stepped up to them, baton tapping the side of his thigh impatiently. Then Arthur noticed that one of the two seats in the violin section was empty. The conductor glanced round the ballroom with a furious expression until his eyes fixed in the direction of the discreet servants' door in one corner. Following the direction of his glare Arthur saw a man, clutching a violin case, staggering through the door, along the wall and up the staircase. It was clear he was either very ill, or very drunk, and he nearly toppled backwards down the stairs at one point before a desperately windmilling arm steadied his balance and he stumbled up the remaining steps into the gallery.

His antics had drawn the attention of some of the guests and they roared with laughter as the man stumbled along the gallery, waved his apologies to the conductor, caught his violin case between his legs and tumbled headlong, smashing his head against a pillar and passing out. Arthur joined in with the laughter as he watched the conductor place his hands on his hips with disgust as he prodded the unconscious man with his shoe. Then he turned back to the orchestra and called them to order. The remaining violinist shook his head in protest and indicated his unconscious companion.