Carola Dunn (12 page)

“Roworth!” Lord Garforth strode up to him. “I’m off. I was supposed to take Lady Sophia in to supper but I can’t stay. Be a good fellow and take my place.”

“Of course.”

As the Dragoon blue and silver vanished into the night, Felix bitterly recalled the rousing speech from Henry V that had once sparked his desire to be a soldier:

And gentlemen in England now a-bed

Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here

And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks

That fought with us...

He was not in England; he was not a-bed; but he might as well be for all the good his manhood was doing for his country.

He found little consolation in being able to take Lady Sophia in to supper. He could not help worrying about Fanny. Still, another hour or so would not make any difference.

He went to find the deserted Goddess, explained Lord Garforth’s departure, and escorted her to the supper room. No sooner were they seated than Slender Billy came in, looking serious for once. He spoke at length in a whisper to the Duke. Everyone watched.

“Very well,” said Wellington loudly at last, “I have no fresh orders to give. I advise your Royal Highness to go back to your quarters and to bed.”

For some twenty minutes, he continued his conversation with Georgy Lennox and his flirtation with the lady on his other side. Then he turned to the Duke of Richmond, sitting opposite him with the Marquise d’Assche.

“I think it’s time for me to go to bed likewise,” he said, his voice once more resounding through the subdued chatter of the remaining guests.

People began to disperse, drifting back to the ballroom, where the orchestra was tuning up again, or calling for their wraps and their carriages. The count came to claim Lady Sophia. Felix made his way to the entrance hall. He wanted to go home, just to see how Fanny was getting on, but then he decided good manners demanded that he take his leave of Lady Sophia in due form.

Fitzroy came up to him and nodded towards Wellington, who was standing nearby, speaking to the Duke of Richmond. “I must just have a word with him before I go home to...to say goodbye to Emily. Felix, will you drop in on her when you can? I wish I had sent her to Antwerp, but she is the Beau’s niece, after all, and would not go.”

Felix clasped his hand. Goodbyes everywhere. Fanny was not alone in her distress, though that made it no easier to bear.

In a momentary hush, he heard Wellington say in a low voice to Richmond, “Have you a good map in the house?”

Richmond nodded and led the way toward the back of the house. Wellington caught sight of Fitzroy and beckoned him to follow.

Felix lingered, hoping for the latest news to take to Fanny. He was still in the hall when they came out of Richmond’s study a few minutes later. Fitzroy hurriedly informed him that Slender Billy had only just received a despatch from his headquarters confirming what Frank Ingram had said of Prince Bernhard’s engagement that afternoon.

“The Duke said Napoleon has humbugged him, gained twenty-four hours march.”

“I wish I had told him as soon as I heard it!”

“He wouldn’t--couldn’t--have acted on an unsubstantiated report, leaving the right undefended. We’ll engage the French at Quatre Bras but he don’t expect to stop them there. Have you ever heard of a village called Waterloo? He said weeks ago he’d fight just to the south of it if he had his choice, and it looks as if he will get it.”

The orchestra in the ballroom fell silent at that moment, and they heard a bugle in the distance. Fitzroy clapped Felix on the shoulder and left without another word.

Waterloo--the village where he had stopped after that ghastly picnic. It no longer mattered that Fanny had not been invited to the ball. She’d not have dreamt of dancing the night away when her twin brother was on his way to face the enemy.

Time and past time he went home. He returned to the ballroom to take leave of Lady Sophia.

Few people remained amid the extravagant decorations, but the orchestra was beginning another waltz. Half a dozen couples took to the floor. Lady Sophia was seated beside her mother, a hint of a pout taking shape on her lovely lips. It changed to a smile as Felix approached.

“Roworth, you are just in time for the last waltz.”

“We have already danced twice,” he reminded her, eager to get away. Only the horrid prospect of being a wallflower could have prompted her suggestion.

“Sophie, dear, I really think it is time we were going. Are you leaving Brussels, Lord Roworth?”

“I?” he asked, startled, though it was a reasonable question. “No, not for the present.” Not when the urgent news Rothschild awaited was the outcome of the approaching battle. “But I trust you are?”

“Yes, tomorrow, or rather, today,” said Lady Sophia. “It may be an age before there is another ball.” The pout returned full force.

For a gentleman there was no choice. Felix stood up for the third time with Lady Sophia. In the prevailing chaos, it was most unlikely that anyone would notice.

Afterwards he went to look for the Duchess of Richmond to pay his respects. She was nowhere to be found, but he came across Lady Georgiana, white and distracted.

“Mama is saying goodbye to March,” she said. “I helped him pack. I haven’t seen George all evening. Lord Roworth, what is going to happen?”

Felix had no answer for her. Gently he pressed her shaking hands. “Wellington will pull us through, if anyone can,” he said.

She tried to smile. “Yes, that is what Papa says. He was so angry not to be allowed to join the Staff. Goodnight, sir. At least I know I shall see you again.”

Filled with admiration for her bravery, Felix set out through the torch-lit streets. The air rang with the clamour of trumpets, bugles, fifes, and drums, and the tramp of marching men. Soldiers stuffed their knapsacks with provisions thrust upon them by the townsfolk they had been billeted on--the British were popular because they paid in gold, Rothschild gold. A boy ran beside a Rifleman, carrying his weapon, while his older sister blew kisses and wiped her eyes on her apron. A little girl rode on the shoulder of a wiry Highlander, her mother clutching the Scotsman’s arm.

War demanded quite as much courage from women as from men, Felix realized, and theirs might be the more difficult part. Waiting was always much harder to bear than action. He lengthened his stride. Fanny might be sleeping peacefully but he doubted it.

She was walking up and down the parlour with a sniffling Anita in her arms. Looking exhausted, she gave Felix a tired smile. Her dimples were not in evidence.

“The noise woke her and frightened her.”

“Where is Solomon?”

“He was all agog to see what is going on, so I sent him out. Hush, love, hush. You’ve heard the drums before.”

“Let me take care of Anita while you rest.”

“Thank you, but I shan’t sleep.”

“Then would you like to go out to walk about a little?”

Anita perked up at once. “Let’s go to the park and feed the swans.”

“They will be sleeping, darling. All the same, Roworth, that is a good notion, if you are not anxious to seek your bed.”

“I shouldn’t sleep either.” He took Anita from her and she went to fetch a shawl and the child’s cloak.

Anita on his shoulders, they wandered through the streets. The Grand’ Place and the Place Royale swarmed with troops. They came across Captain Mercer, rounding up his men, horses, and guns.

“I’m to proceed to Enghien,” he said, “‘with utmost diligence.’ Such is my diligence that I was giving orders while I put on my stockings, though one order was for breakfast, I admit.”

“Oh, Cav!” Fanny managed to laugh.

“I heard Frank was bound direct to Quatre Bras. Don’t fret, my dear, we’ll whip Boney till he wishes he’d never been born.” Impulsively he hugged her and she clung to him for a moment. Felix reminded himself that the man was one of those she considered her extended family.

He coughed. The captain saluted him, patted Anita’s cheek, and returned to directing his men.

They went on to the park, where the Highlanders were assembling in the chilly light of dawn. Struck with the contrast, Felix told Fanny how, a few hours since, some of those men had been dancing in an extravagantly decorated ballroom for the amusement of the Richmonds’ guests.

“They were very popular,” he said.

“Was the ball a success?”

“Hardly, in the circumstances. I was fortunate in that many of Lady Sophia’s beaux were absent and she was especially kind to me.” Though he had not intended the statement to be ironic, that was how it sounded and that was how Fanny took it.

“Was she, indeed!” she snorted.

The sun inched above the horizon, sparkling the dewy grass. The bagpipers struck up “Hieland Laddie,” and the Scots brigades marched out in formation, a brave sight in their tartans and black-plumed bonnets.

Anita cheered, but before the column had passed she was wilting with fatigue, barely able to hold on. Felix took her in his arms and they went directly back to Madame Vilvoorde’s, where he laid the sleeping child on the sofa. It was too late to think of going to bed. Fanny went to the kitchen and made tea.

Felix was pacing the floor when she carried the tray into the parlour and set it on the table. “I wish I were a soldier!” he burst out. “I feel utterly useless when I see them all marching off to glory.”

“You wish you were a soldier!” Fanny rounded on him furiously. “What do you know of soldiering? All you see is parades and pretty uniforms. Those poor boys in their fancy clothes are marching not to glory but to mud, and blood, and death, and dismemberment!”

A storm of tears engulfed her. After a moment of shock at her outburst, Felix strode across the room to hold her shaking body close, to murmur useless words of comfort, his heart aching with sympathy.

As she grew calmer, he was ashamed to realize that another part of him was aching in response to the feel of her slim, yielding form in his arms. Her small, soft breasts pressed against his chest. The downy nape of her neck felt fragile beneath his tenderly stroking fingers. He had only to bend his head to bury his face in her rosemary-scented curls or to touch the silken smoothness of her temple with his lips.

The hot wave of desire took him by surprise, for he had never regarded her with an amorous eye.

She was his friend. He respected her too highly to take advantage of her momentary weakness, even to allow himself to dwell on the unexpected temptation she presented. Nor did he forget the unhappy Lieutenant Barnstaple’s fate. He gave her his handkerchief and turned away to pour the tea.

Mopping her eyes, Fanny shivered. For a brief time, all too brief, she had felt safe and cared for in the strong circle of his arms. How wonderful it would be to be loved by this man, and what a fool Lady Sophia must be to treat him with indifference!

But he was her friend, not her lover. The comfort of his embrace was not for her and she must be strong, not give way to overwrought sensibilities. Life with the army demanded self-control. There was no room for weaklings.

Chapter 9

Madame Vilvoorde rapped on the parlour door. She was departing for the country and she wanted a fortnight’s rent in advance.

Felix was almost glad of the demand, for worrying about it distracted Fanny from her chagrin over having given way to the vapours, as she referred to her tempest of anger and grief. Red-eyed, she was still in no state to argue with their landlady, but Felix succeeded in persuading the woman to accept a single week’s rent. She went off scowling.

Moses Solomon, having seen Wellington ride off at the head of his staff, returned shortly before Anita woke up hungry. Happily, stout Henriette was less alarmed, or less mobile, than her mistress and provided a good breakfast.

After eating and changing, Fanny took Anita round to Mrs Prynne’s to help prepare bandages and dressings. Felix admired the way she had recovered her spirits, outwardly at least, despite the prospect of this gruesome task. He sent Moses to bed, lest he should have need of him, and sat down to write a report.

When he finished, he went out. The streets seemed empty after the ordered chaos of the night. In the Grand’ Place, provision wagons were being loaded, their Flemish drivers preparing to follow and feed the army. Their fellows, drivers of the tilt-carts drawn up nearby in neat rows, slumbered in the shade of the awnings designed to shelter the wounded. They would not be sent for until battle was joined, until there were injured men to be brought back to the city.

Fanny was right, as usual. What did he know of soldiering? From a distance it was easy to see the glory and forget the suffering of which the tilt-carts were an ominous reminder.

Felix walked to the Richmonds’, where he found the duchess attempting to dissuade her husband and Lord William, still bandaged, from riding after Wellington to offer their services. He laughingly refused to take sides. He suspected they would be in the Duke’s way, which made it easier to resist the temptation to join them. His duty was to Rothschild, he reminded himself sternly, to gather information and see that it reached his employer as soon as possible.

He went on to Lord Fitzroy’s lodging and left his card, with a scrawl on the back begging Emily to let him know if he could be of assistance. Then he made for the Daventrys’ hôtel.

As he expected, the knocker had already been taken off the door. Lady Sophia was gone.

* * * *

In the middle of the afternoon a distant dull rumbling made itself heard. People came out of their houses to join those in the streets, to glance up at the clear sky and then rush to the south end of the city. Felix joined the crowd on the ramparts, gazing towards Quatre Bras. Nothing was to be seen but a slow procession of supply wagons crawling towards the sound of the guns.

Felix went home to change into riding clothes. Though the thunder of the cannonade was audible indoors, it was possible to ignore it. In the parlour, Fanny was playing cards with young Solomon while Anita took a nap.

“I’m going to ride towards Quatre Bras, to see if I can discover what is going on,” Felix told them. Fanny’s look of painful anxiety made him add quickly, “Don’t worry about me, I shan’t go anywhere near the battlefield. And I’ll be home for dinner.”