Seven days after the wedding, three young men were walking by the sea in Brighton, enjoying the sea air and admiring all the pretty ladies as they passed.

"There's a fine girl over there," said one of the three. "D' you see? A very pretty ankle, she's got."

"Let's have a game of billiards," said the third man.

"You're a devil for the ladies, Jos!" laughed one of his friends. "But what shall we do this afternoon, boys?"

"No, no, Captain," said Jos, alarmed. "No billiards today, Crawley, my boy; yesterday was enough."

"You play very well," laughed Crawley. "Doesn't he, George?"

George Osborne had brought Amelia to Brighton for a little honeymoon, and Joseph Sedley had come down to join them. And who should they discover, staying in the same hotel, but Captain and Mrs Rawdon Crawley? At once Rebecca and Amelia flew into each other's arms, and there was general delight among the young people. The two wedding parties met constantly, on excursions and at dinners, and the gentlemen for games of cards and billiards, which conveniently enabled Rawdon to refill his empty purse with his winnings from Jos and George.

Miss Crawley, on whom all Rawdon's hopes depended, still refused to see him, and was now in Brighton, taking the sea air for her health. Her affectionate nephew and niece had followed her there, but Miss Crawley was guarded day and night by the fiercely possessive Mrs Bute Crawley, who was determined to prevent Rawdon inheriting any of his aunt's riches. Becky and Rawdon, however, were just as determined to succeed as Mrs Bute; and in the meantime they spent money freely and ran up debts, confident of getting the old lady's money in the end.

On meeting George Osborne again, Becky had taken some care to be especially charming to him, admiring his handsome face and his skill at billiards (at which he usually lost to Rawdon). In return, George thought Becky clever, amusing, stylish, and altogether delightful. He quite forgot his original opinion of her as a lowly governess.

The two young couples had plenty to tell each other, and their marriages and future hopes were discussed with great interest on both sides. George was rather nervously waiting for the arrival of his friend Captain Dobbin, who had offered to tell George's father the news of his son's marriage to Amelia.

"The sea is so calm and clear -- don't you wish you could just dive into it?" said George.

It is hard for a young bride to have thoughts like these, but so it was. One evening, while Rawdon and Joseph were playing cards, Becky and George were outside on the balcony, admiring the moonlight. Amelia sat inside, neglected, watching.

Amelia became faintly uneasy about her brilliant friend, always so lively and amusing, while she herself was so shy and quiet. She had only been married a week, and already George seemed bored, eager to be with other people as much as possible.

Becky laughed. "Do you know what my plan is?" she said. "You remember Briggs, my Aunt Crawley's companion? She goes sea-bathing a lot, and one day I'm going to dive in next to her and insist on immediate forgiveness, right there in the water."

"What a fine night!" said George. "Do you mind my cigar?"

George burst out laughing at the idea of this watery meeting.

"What's the noise about, you two?" Rawdon called out.

"Not a bit. I love the smell of them in the open air," Becky said.

But apart from these little private worries of Amelia's, the time passed pleasantly enough, and hopes on both sides were high -- that George's father would forgive George, and that Miss Crawley would forgive Becky and Rawdon.

Amelia, unable to join in the laughter, crept away to her room, and a little cold hand closed around that tender heart.

But Vanity Fair is rarely a kind or forgiving place. And what would happen to our story, dear reader, if it was?

"We're ordered to Belgium -- the whole army. We leave next week, sailing from Chatham."

This news shocked his listeners, and they looked very serious.

The next day Dobbin arrived in Brighton, eager to see Amelia, even though she was now a married woman, forever out of his reach. He brought two pieces of news with him; the first he gave to the young men alone. It was news of war.

"It's my opinion," Dobbin went on, "that Napoleon will attack in less than three weeks, and we shall have a fine old time of it. But let's not say anything like that to the ladies, George, eh? It may come to nothing after all -- at the moment Brussels is full of fashionable people who think just that."

The second piece of news Dobbin brought was for George Osborne, and he waited until they were alone together.

"It's not in my father's handwriting," said George, alarmed.

Dobbin did not reply and silently handed George a letter.

"What did my father say?" George asked anxiously. "Tell me!"

SIR -- I AM INSTRUCTED by Mr Osborne to inform you that, as a result of the marriage you have chosen to enter into, he no longer recognizes you as his son, and that you will therefore inherit no money from him on his death. The only inheritance due to you is the money left to you and your two sisters by your mother. The sum of ￡2,000, being a third share of ￡6,000, will be paid to yourself or your agents upon receipt of your instructions.

George was right. The letter was from his father's lawyer.

Mr Osborne also asks me to say that he refuses to receive any messages or letters from you on this or any other subject.

Your obedient servant, Samuel Higgs

"This is all your fault!" shouted George. He threw the letter at Dobbin. "We could have waited, but no -- you had to get me married, and ruined! What the devil am I to do with two thousand pounds? That won't last me two years. I've already lost a hundred and forty to Crawley at cards and billiards this week."

"Well, yes, it's hard," Dobbin said, "and, as you say, it's partly my fault, but there are some men who wouldn't mind changing with you. You have more money than most of them. You must live on your pay until your father changes his mind."

"Mentioned in the Gazette!" said George. "Among the list of dead, you mean? That's really helpful!"

It was impossible to argue with Dobbin for long as he was too good-natured. He had tried his best for his friend, but the father was a man of violent temper, and having decided to cut his son off, there was nothing Dobbin, or George's two sisters, or anyone else could say to persuade him otherwise.

"How can a man like me live on a soldier's pay?" George shouted angrily. "You're a fool, Dobbin. I must have my comforts, keep up my position in the world. Do you expect my wife to follow the regiment on foot, carrying her own luggage?"

"Well, well," said Dobbin calmly. "This storm will pass, George. Get your name mentioned in the Army Gazette and I'm sure your old father will welcome you back with open arms."

"Don't talk like that," said Dobbin. "Everything will be fine."

Amelia read the letter and her face cleared. The idea of being poor with the man she loved held no fears for her.

George gave Amelia the lawyer's letter. "It's not myself I care about, Emmy," he said, "it's you."

Before dinner that evening there were two little conversations between the husbands and wives in the hotel.

"It is," said George, looking deeply miserable. "But you, my dear girl -- my wife has the right to expect certain comforts, not the poor life of an ordinary army wife."

"Oh, George," she said, "I'm sure he will forgive you soon, but it's so sad for you to be separated from your father like this."

"But, George," said Amelia happily. "I can sew, and mend your trousers for you, and do all kinds of things. And two thousand pounds is a great deal of money, isn't it, George?"

In another room, Becky and Rawdon also talked about money.

George had to laugh at this, and they went down to dinner.

"We'll all be leaving soon," Becky said. "Rawdon dear, you'd better get that money Osborne owes you before he goes."

At dinner that evening they were all very bright and cheerful. George was excited by the thought of war, and Dobbin told amusing stories, but when Brussels was mentioned, a look of terror came over Amelia's sweet, smiling face.

Rawdon gave his usual great roar of laughter.

"You idiot!" said his wife. "I'm coming with you, of course."

"I intend to go," said Rebecca. "I must -- General Tufto is a great admirer of mine. Isn't he, Rawdon?"

"Don't be afraid, Emmy," said George. "You can come too."

"You won't cry about me, I suppose," Rawdon said, half angry.

"I must and will go," cried Amelia, with great determination.

"Good idea," said Rawdon. "Wonder what Mrs O. will do when Osborne goes out to Brussels with the regiment?"

"Bravo!" said George, laughing. "Did you ever see such a fierce little fighter of a wife?" he asked the others.

"Has the regiment been ordered to Brussels, George?" she cried. And she seized George's arm in her terror.

"Cry her eyes out, I expect," said Becky.

Dobbin disapproved strongly of Amelia being allowed to go anywhere near a possible battle, but of course he could not say that to her husband. "At least," he thought, "I shall be able to see her, and I will be there to protect her and keep her safe."

Before Becky and Rawdon left Brighton, they carried out a last attack on Miss Crawley's defences. Becky had obtained the very useful information that Mr Bute Crawley had broken his collar-bone falling from his horse, and Mrs Bute had had to hurry home to look after him. That left Miss Briggs. Becky arranged to meet that lady by chance on the beach, and poured out declarations of love and affection and concern for Miss Crawley and herself. Miss Briggs, by nature a kindly person, was soon won round, and Becky hurried back to Rawdon in the hotel.

"I say, Osborne," he said lightly, "could you let me have that small amount, if convenient?"

It was not at all convenient, but gambling debts must be paid, so a good many bank-notes passed from George to Rawdon.

After dinner, the men stayed to smoke their cigars, then went to rejoin the ladies. Rawdon touched George on the arm.

The next day Jos, Dobbin, Amelia, and George left for London, to prepare for Brussels. Rawdon and Becky would follow in a few days. Becky and Amelia kissed each other most affectionately on parting, but a tiny flame of jealousy was already burning in Amelia's gentle heart.

"But what shall I write?" asked the puzzled Rawdon.

"You must sit down and write to your aunt at once, Rawdon," she said. "And then Briggs will try to persuade her to see you."

And so she did, leaning over his shoulder to correct his spelling and grammar. The letter was in short, soldierly sentences, full of grateful affection, and made no mention of money.

"Rawdon never wrote a word of that letter," she said. "He never wrote to me without asking for money in his life, and all his letters are full of bad spelling and bad grammar. It's that little snake of a governess who rules him." They are all the same, Miss Crawley thought in her heart. They all want me dead, and are hoping for my money. I wish they would all leave me alone.

Old Miss Crawley laughed when the letter arrived, and laughed even more when Miss Briggs had read it out to her.

"Idiot," said his wife, pulling his ear. "I'll tell you what to say."

She did agree to meet Rawdon briefly, but the interview was not a success, and that evening Rawdon received a letter from his aunt. Her health, she wrote, was too delicate for further meetings, but if he would like to call at her lawyer's office in London, he would find a communication waiting for him there.

At once, full of hope, Rawdon and Becky hurried back to London (which was exactly Miss Crawley's intention), and the next day Rawdon went to the lawyer's. He came back furious.

Though it was against themselves, the joke was a good one, and Becky burst out laughing at Rawdon's angry face.

In London George also found that his financial future did not look promising. There was no sign that his father might forgive him, and when George went to collect his two thousand pounds from the lawyer, Mr Higgs was very cool and distant with him.

"By God, Becky," he said, "she's only given me twenty pounds!"

But George did not care. The old man would forgive him in the end, he thought, and as his army pay had gone in gambling losses to Captain Crawley, he began to spend his two thousand pounds. He took a large apartment in a fine hotel, entertained Jos and Dobbin to a very expensive dinner there (much to Dobbin's disapproval), and sent his wife out to buy a great many fashionable clothes, suitable for a grand social life in Brussels.

Amelia happily obeyed her husband's orders about shopping, but was a little sad when he would not go with her to visit her parents. Mrs Sedley wept with happiness to see her daughter, and Amelia found it oddly comforting to be with her kind old parents again. Only nine days married, and so much had changed! Did she admit to herself how different the real man was from that handsome hero she had adored before marriage? No, a man must be very bad indeed before a woman will admit such a thing, and whatever secret disappointments lay in that gentle heart, they stayed well hidden from the world.