The Mistress of Black Grove Manor (93 page)

CHAPTER THREE:

The tangy stench of blood hung thickly in the cool March air, teasing the noses of the two hundred British soldiers who ploughed on, heartsick with grief and exhaustion, making their way slowly across the half frozen fields trying to ride around and over the hundreds of dead bodies which littered the ground made muddy from spilled blood, rain and melting snow. The troops were led by Major James Henry Sutton, heir to the title of Baron of Drundell. Major Sutton had tried vainly to keep up the spirits of his men but after their latest disastrous defeat at the hands of the French even he found it difficult to summon up feelings of patriotism and camaraderie. All he could hope to do at this point was lead his men to a safe location so they could rest, regroup and await further instructions from the Duke of York.

Major Sutton had written to the Duke earlier the previous day when things had started to go very badly for the troop as the French army launched a series of deadly counter attacks, forcing his men to retreat. The Major lost over half his men and he suggested to the Duke it would be best to retreat completely as they were unable to penetrate the French border fortresses. He had requested more men, more ammunition and more food for the starving soldiers. He had stressed the importance of waiting for the promised Austrian contingents to arrive before attempting another attack. Now all they could do was hope the Duke agreed and wait for his answer.

It took another two hours before Major Sutton’s unit made it to their secure location. The soldiers hurriedly set up their camp in the last remaining traces of light visible in the sky before night fell upon them. Pitching up dozens of tents and building small fires to warm themselves up in the chilly air. The fires would have to be put out before going to bed. The men at half-heartedly, chewing on the stale bread and some cheese. It was all that was left of their supplies. The horses and carts carrying all their food had been destroyed and stolen by the French two days earlier, if more food didn’t make its way to them soon they would all die of starvation.

Save the French the trouble of wasting their bullets on us, Major James thought bitterly. He was sitting near his tent, pitched up by his right hand helper Alfred and he was deep in thought. Since entering the war he had never once doubted or regretted his decision. Everyone back home had tried to dissuade him from offering his services. His father had told him flat out as the future Baron and the only heir to the title it would be foolhardy of him to endanger himself.

“You’re a bloody aristocrat James!” He had shouted, his face red with fury. “There’s no need for you to muck about with common foot soldiers for a problem

that isn’t even ours. Enjoy the wealth and position you are privy to and stay out of these foreign matters. You’re a hot blooded young buck, pick out one of those nice, rich girls who are always throwing themselves at you and give me some more heirs, I should have had a litter of them by now.” He had concluded angrily.

But James had stuck to his decision. He had felt it was his duty precisely because he was one of the privileged. He found it unfair to sit sheltered and cocooned from the realities of the world, enjoying the bounty and reaping the rewards provided by the hard work and sacrifice of others. As for marriage, the idea of being wedded to one of those ‘nice, rich girls’ as his father put it was absolutely revolting.

              Contrary to most young men his age he didn’t enjoy having women throw themselves at him, especially when he knew it wasn’t for the right reasons. Twenty-four years old, the only heir to an immense fortune and a title and more accessible than a Duke or an Earl he knew women saw him as a very good catch. He supposed his tall, solid build and handsome face also had a hand in the matter but he knew from first-hand experience that women cared more for money and status than anything else in the world. Ava had proven that.

CHAPTER FOUR:

With complete disregard for his father’s wishes, James Sutton joined the British army as a commanding officer responsible for leading hundreds of men into battle. Through every campaign and every battle he always tried to keep up his high spirits and rarely let anything bog him down because defeating Napoleon was a cause he believed in firmly. But now three years later he was finding it difficult to see the light at the end of the tunnel. The war against Napoleon Bonaparte had begun in 1803 and now almost twelve years later it didn’t seem any closer to coming to an end.

He felt bone weary and tired and found himself thinking wistfully of his soft bed back in London and the luxury of a hot bath. He had witnessed too many atrocities and led too many innocent men to their deaths to feel anything but weariness. And after this latest humiliating setback he didn’t see how he could order his men to continue fighting without more support.

“Sir?” The hand on his shoulder roused Major Sutton from his brooding thoughts. He looked up to find Alfred standing nearby holding out a flask and some food.

“I managed to get a bit of coffee for you Sir, you look as though you need it and you must eat.”

The thought of food just then was nauseating but Major Sutton knew he had to eat something so he took the plate and the flask and thanked Alfred who looked as exhausted as he felt.

              “You look pretty beaten yourself Alfred, make sure to eat as well and then you may as well try to get some sleep. I’ll take care of my own needs tonight.”

Alfred bobbed his head and smiled gratefully.

              “Thank you Sir.”

Major Sutton moved closer to one of the fires to warm himself up while his men murmured quiet goodnights and crept into their tents.

In a very short little while not a thing stirred in the camp, not even a cricket could be heard chirping in the fields. Everything was deathly silent as one by one the exhausted men fell into a deep sleep. Major Sutton tossed and turned in his tent for several hours willing his body to succumb to sleep but sleep would not come. He finally pulled on his clothes and stepped out of his tent thinking some fresh air would help clear his head of the gloomy thoughts crowding in.

              As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he spied something in the distance. A rippling in the air and the faint glow of a lantern. All at once he was on the alert, a deep sense of foreboding filled him and he knew without a doubt someone was approaching their camp and he had a feeling it wasn’t a friend. He dashed into the nearest tent and roused the group of soldiers sleeping peacefully awake.

              “Come quick, I think we may be under attack!” The urgency of the situation was clear in the tone of his voice. The half a dozen men got to their feet at once, all traces of sleep gone as they grimly prepared for yet another attack. Major Sutton went from tent to tent raising the alarm. He didn’t want to risk ringing the bell in case it warned their enemies. In less than a half hour everyone was awake and prepared to meet whatever was coming their way, but the enemy had planned ahead and they had planned well. Within moments a smattering of glowing lanterns lit up the darkness and Major Sutton knew in that moment they were lost. French troops surrounded them on all sides. They had obviously been followed because the French had approached strategically making sure to trap the British troops within their camp.  

                     It was hard to gauge whether they were outnumbered or not but it didn’t matter because the French had the element of surprise on their side and only a miracle would ensure Major Sutton’s troops would get out of it alive. He yelled out orders left and right but they were lost in the chaos of guns and muskets being fired. Men dropped all around him throughout the camp like helpless, trapped flies. Some of the men surrendered preferring to join the enemy’s side rather than join their comrades in death while others got on their horses and fled. Major Sutton couldn’t find it in his heart to blame either action. And just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse they did.

                     The commander of the French troops shouted a word to his men. It obviously signaled a code of some kind because all at once the men retreated, all activity ceased as they hurried away to put as much distance as they could between the massacre at the camp and themselves. The remainder of Major Sutton’s men looked at them in puzzlement wondering what they had missed.

When they heard the low hissing sound in the distance steadily getting closer and louder they knew all was lost.

“FIND SHELTER!” Major Sutton screamed hoarsely, “FIND SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. IT’S A CANNON. WE’RE ABOUT TO BE HIT.”

But feeling defeated some of the men ignored the orders and fell to their knees instead with prayers and the names of loved ones on their lips as others made a last attempt at escaping. Major Sutton hovered uncertainly knowing he should get away but unable and unwilling to abandon his men who were ready to accept death.

                     “WE HAVE TO RUN NOW!” He shouted again and again.

“Sir,” it was Alfred tugging at his arm, yelling in his ear, “Sir we have to get you to safety if we can.”

But what safety was there really?
Major Sutton thought, getting to safety meant tumbling willingly into the arms of the French and he couldn’t abandon his men.

“Get away from here Alfred.” He shouted back and shoved him away. But as he braced himself for death he felt himself being pulled out of the way and dragged away by Alfred who had chosen to disobey his command. The very last thing Major Sutton saw was the night sky light up with the glow of what seemed like millions of fireworks. He was barely aware of the searing pain, which tore through his body ripping him in half and then…then mercifully he felt nothing else.

CHAPTER FIVE:

Nothing could have ever prepared Delphine for the sight which greeted her eyes when she was deposited at one of the field hospitals somewhere in France in a camp. Dressed neatly in her white nursing uniform with a cap on her head Delphine had never felt so out of place in her life. She had always heard about the brutality of war but to see it first hand was sobering. Row after row of wounded, dying men lay in the large makeshift hospital, most of them were dressed in the familiar red uniforms of the French army but in one corner Delphine spied less than half a dozen men dressed in blue uniforms. She was surprised to see British soldiers in a French camp, but she was to learn later these men weren’t soldiers but high ranking officers, captured during battle. They would be held for ransom or used as bartering chips if and when the need arose. She also quickly learned the critical cases were provided with narrow cots to sleep on while others had to suffice on pallets on the hard ground. Everywhere she turned men were moaning, crying or screaming out in pain. The stench of decay, pus and blood made her stomach turn over and for the briefest of moments Delphine wondered if she was strong enough to handle this.
Why did I come here?
She asked herself.
Why did I bully Mama and Papa into allowing me to enlist as a nurse? They had warned me, they told me it would be unbearable and so it is.

Almost she was tempted to turn back, tell whoever was in charge that she had made a terrible mistake. Surely it couldn’t be too late to go back home? But as she saw the suffering etched on the faces of these men who were willing to lay down their life for their country, she knew she couldn’t turn back. She was here now and she had a duty to these men. Taking in a deep, steadying breath she set off to find the head nurse, ready to tackle whatever was thrown her way.

She had been there for just over a month when James Sutton arrived at the hospital. In that month Delphine had quickly gone from novice to an efficient, experienced nurse capable of handling almost anything. She was well liked by everyone and had developed friendships with some of the younger soldiers little older than Marie. She saw them as younger brothers and took special care of them. One morning while she was reading a letter to one of them, a boy her age named Daniel, Major Sutton was brought in on a stretcher. All she could make out was a bloody form dressed in a blue uniform. His features hidden by layers of mud, grime and blood. She could tell at a glance he was in very bad shape. The doctor looked at her and signaled that she was to come at once. Abandoning Daniel and the letter she rushed over to do what she could for the poor man.

CHAPTER SIX:  

The last thing James Sutton remembered was being thrown back and pulled out of the way by Alfred as the force of the cannon blast displaced him and the burning pain which engulfed him. He had no recollection of the French commander walking among James’ dead troops killing the men who were still alive. He didn’t know that he had narrowly escaped death himself because the French commander had recognized him as an officer. Mercifully he remained unconscious as they strapped his bruised and battered body atop a horse and brought him to the nearest field hospital to be treated. He woke up once through a haze of pain and saw the shadowy form of a doctor working on him. He didn’t know what was wrong with him but he was in agony, his body was weak from the wound and he had lost a lot of blood. When the doctor began to stitch his stomach he screamed and passed out from the pain.