‘Very pretty,’ he said.

Las Cases returned to the table with the sorted deck, so Betsy placed the dress on the sofa and the game began. It was soon clear that Napoleon was not abiding by the rules. Betsy caught him ‘peeping under his cards as they were dealt to him, he endeavoured whenever he got an important one to draw off my attention, and then slyly held it up for my sister to see. I soon discovered this and, calling him to order, told him he was cheating, and that if he continued to do so, I would not play.’

At the end of the hand, Napoleon claimed to be the winner; when Betsy disputed this, he laughed and declared that she was the cheat and should pay what she owed.20

‘Never! You revoked! You cheated!’

At this Napoleon jumped up and, calling her wicked (‘Ah, you are méchante!’), snatched up her ball dress from the sofa. He ran from the room with it and up to the pavilion. She gasped in astonishment. Then she set off up the path in pursuit. But he was too quick, darting through the marquee and locking himself in the inner room. Despite her remonstrances and tears, he called through the door that he was keeping the dress to teach her a lesson.

The ball was the following evening. There was no sign of Napoleon throughout the day. Betsy sent several begging messages to the pavilion but was told that the emperor was sleeping and could not be disturbed. Neither of her parents was willing to approach him. Because she was not yet of an age to ‘come out’ into society, they had not wanted her to go in the first place; nor would they have wished to engage their distinguished guest on such a frivolous matter—although they must have wondered why he bothered with it.

The day wore on and at last the hour arrived for their departure. The horses were brought around and the young slave boys loaded the tin cases holding the ladies’ silks and satins—but not Betsy’s beautiful gown. Her mother and sister would be able to change into their evening finery at the castle and she would still be wearing her plain little house dress. By the time they reached the gate she was inclined to return home, but then Napoleon came running across the grass with her gown over his arm. ‘Here, Miss Betsee, I have brought it for you! I hope you are a good girl now and that you will enjoy the ball.’ He walked beside their horses until they came to the end of the bridle track which joined the Sidepath. He asked idly about a farmhouse he noticed far below. As they waved goodbye he called out to Betsy: ‘Make sure that you dance with Gourgaud!’ The emperor was mocking her as usual. She detested Gourgaud.21

The whitewashed castle walls were lit by flaming torches, reflected in the waters of James Bay. Turbaned black pages in brilliant satin livery greeted the new arrivals in the forecourt, took charge of the horses and directed the ladies to the anteroom where they changed.

The Balcombes and the French party entered the ballroom together at nine o’clock. Madame Bertrand, in a Parisian gown of heavy brocade, and Madame de Montholon, in a low-cut dress, her breasts sparkling with diamonds and emeralds estimated to be worth £1000, were the sensations of the evening. (Admiral Cockburn was tolerant enough to overlook the fact that he had requested all precious jewellery to be surrendered when they boarded the Northumberland.) The locals had never seen such style and glamour.22 A number of dashing officers, including Colonel Bingham, approached the French ladies, and soon their dance cards were filled. ‘The dress of the French party is so magnificent,’ observed Catherine Younghusband, ‘as to throw all the English and St Helenians into the background.’ However, in her view that was no great challenge: ‘The English ladies born here are called Yam-stocks. They are, many of them, very pretty & blooming, but very ignorant.’23

A few midshipmen eyed off the local beauties, but were mindful of a lieutenant’s warning that many of the girls viewed these occasions as a ‘Ladder to Matrimony’ and escape from the island: ‘The Governor’s ball gives them an opportunity of setting their caps to the best advantage, and many an unwary bachelor becomes inextricably enthralled by the sirens of St Helena.’24

Gourgaud was discomforted to be greeted by their host Admiral Cockburn, who requested—with a firmness that sounded like an order—that he should book the first quadrille with Mrs Balcombe, the second with Betsy Balcombe and the third with Miss Knipe, a farmer’s daughter.25 ‘My intention was not to dance with the Balcombes but here I am caught,’ Gourgaud complained to his journal. Betsy would have agreed with him. She failed to write about the ball herself and must have found it a disappointment after all her expectations. It was especially tedious to have to dance with Gourgaud. No doubt she looked delightful in her rose-trimmed gown and attracted some attention, but she was outshone by the French ladies. And by the governor’s daughter.

Laura Wilks whirled past them in an officer’s arms.