Carola Dunn (11 page)

“Good news, my lord?” asked young George Cathcart, looking up from a hand of cards.

“Not exactly, though you might call it positive.”

“Boney’s made his move,” stated Lord Arthur Hill with placid certainty, dropping his cards as Felix nodded, and heaving his bulk out of the chair. “Fitzroy’s with the Beau now, but for this I’ll risk losing my head.”

“If you’re lucky he’ll put you on bread and water and you’ll find your waistline,” observed another officer. “It’s true, Roworth? What have you heard?”

None but the Duke’s personal staff was present, so Felix told them what little he knew.

“Beaumont?” said Canning, consulting a map pinned to the wall. “The devil! That’s where the road to Mons splits from the road to Charleroi. He could be aiming to outflank our right, or to divide us from the Prussians, or even to march directly on Brussels.”

The Duke said the same when Felix reported to him. “Things are moving at last, and I don’t doubt we shall have a fight of it, but I cannot make a move until I have definite word from Grant at Mons or from the Prussians at Charleroi. Fitzroy, send a couple of the fellows to inform them of this latest. My thanks, Roworth. I shall see you at the Richmonds’ ball, I expect?”

“Yes, sir, if you think...?”

“Her grace would never forgive me if I broke my promise that she could hold her ball without fear of interruption.”

By the following evening, when Lady Conynghame held a soirée, everyone had heard talk of serious French troop movements on the border. Felix had been in and out of Headquarters all day, but he refused to confirm the rumours until Wellington came in and calmly corroborated the most recent report: the French had crossed the frontier.

Felix was flattered when Lady Daventry consulted him as to the advisability of removing herself and her daughter from Brussels immediately.

“Just to Antwerp,” she said anxiously, “until we see what happens.”

“No one else is leaving, Mama. Can we not stay for the Duchess’s ball? There will be time enough to go to Antwerp afterwards.” she said, dispassionate as always.

“I daresay you are right, my love,” said her mother weakly, throwing a helpless glance at Felix.

It was true that very few of those privileged to be invited to the Richmond ball were talking of departure. “I suggest you prepare to leave at short notice,” he advised her in a low voice. “Then you will be ready for any eventuality without disappointing Lady Sophia unnecessarily.”

And without disappointing himself, since he was to take the Goddess in to dinner at the Richmonds’ before the ball--and none of his rivals had been invited to dine. He was sorry Fanny was not to have a chance to enjoy it, but surely the French would not be so cruel as to attack before the long-awaited ball.

Chapter 8

In the morning, Felix joined Fanny, Anita, and Moses for a hearty, companionable breakfast. He was sure Fanny must be oppressed by the news of Boney’s approach but for the child’s sake she concealed it admirably behind a cheerful, serene countenance.

Afterwards, he again repaired to Headquarters. Rumours abounded, but there was no firm news and he was told that Fitzroy was walking in the park with the Duke.

He joined them there, finding the Duke of Richmond with them. Wellington had heard nothing from either Charleroi or Mons, but he meant to dine at three so as to be ready to deal with whatever might arise.

Felix declined an invitation to dine with them, but he went back with them to Headquarters. He was just leaving when the Prince of Orange dashed in. Already in his dress uniform for the ball, Slender Billy announced that with his own ears he had heard gunfire from the direction of the Prussian positions around Charleroi.

Unwilling to leave the center of affairs, Felix lingered, accepting a glass of wine. The diners were still at table when a Prussian officer, covered in dirt and sweat, brought a long-delayed despatch. It was dated nine o’clock that morning, and reported that soon after daybreak the French had attacked in force.

“Fitzroy, send for De Lancey. Everyone--the whole army--is to report to divisional headquarters and to be ready to march at a moment’s notice.”

Having sent off a messenger, Fitzroy returned to the table, looking worried. Felix wondered if he too had expected the Duke to deploy his troops, not merely to gather and arm them. “No doubt we shall be able to manage those fellows,” said the Military Secretary diffidently.

“There is little doubt of that,” Wellington snapped, “provided I do not make a false movement. Charleroi might be a feint. I must wait for word from Mons.”

The situation was unchanged when Felix had to go home to change his dress for dinner and the ball. News awaited him at Madame Vilvoorde’s.

Fanny and Frank were in the parlour, Fanny pale but composed and dry-eyed. “Frank’s battery is to be deployed at Quatre Bras,” she said. “He has just come home to...to....” She bit her lip.

Her brother put his arm around her shoulders. “To say goodbye,” he finished her sentence bluntly.

“Quatre Bras? Where is that?” Felix hoped explanations might steady her. At least Anita was already abed.

“It’s just a farm at a crossroads on the road to Charleroi. Prince Bernhard’s Dutch-Belgians had a bit of a set-to there with a few skirmishers late this afternoon. Drove them off, but he thought he saw Marshal Ney reconnoitering later.”

“Ney himself!”

“So I heard. Ney can’t have seen much, though, because of the tall rye, or he would have attacked. The prince’s brigade has no more than four thousand men and eight guns. Since Slender Billy isn’t at Braine-le-Comte to be consulted, thank heaven, his aides are sending reinforcements. Well, duty calls, I must be off.”

Felix shook his hand heartily. “Goodbye, then. I’ll keep an eye on your womenfolk until you’ve sent Boney running with his tail between his legs.”

Frank grinned, and kissed Fanny, who hugged him convulsively and then stood back, taut as a bowstring, letting him go. He strode out without a backward glance, a resolute figure in his dark blue jacket and riding breeches.

“Goodbye,” Fanny whispered as the door closed behind her brother.

Somehow his departure brought home to Felix the reality of the approaching battle, in a way all the talk at Headquarters had not. No longer was it just a matter of reports and maneuvers. Men were going out to fight.

He desperately wanted to comfort Fanny, to hold her and stroke her curls and tell her everything was going to be all right. But any words of reassurance would strike false, and probably precipitate the tears she was so nobly holding back.

“I must send a courier to London,” he said abruptly.

“Mr Solomon?”

Moses Solomon was staying in the house, and might be of use to her. “No, I’ll send the other fellow. He ought to leave tonight.”

“Here’s your pen and ink and paper.” She was obviously glad of something practical to do. “Shall I send Trevor with a message?”

“If you please. Tell him to hurry back.”

The courier was despatched. Already late for dinner, Felix went upstairs to change, feeling as if he were abandoning Fanny. She had sat nearby with some sewing while he was writing to Rothschild, but he noticed from the corner of his eye that she did not set a single stitch. He was glad young Solomon was there to dine with her.

When he reached the Richmonds’, the company was already at table. He made his apologies to the duchess, who assured him that since everyone was at sixes and sevens, she had ordered several dishes kept hot for late arrivals.

“We thought you had deserted us too,” Lady Georgiana greeted him.

Looking around the table as he took his place beside Lady Sophia, he saw that his was not the only empty chair. Lord March was present, but his brother George was not. An excess of the female sex prevailed. Small wonder, then, that the Goddess smiled on him despite his tardiness. It was a pity that the general talk of war distracted him from the enjoyment of her undivided attention.

The duchess led her dinner guests to the ballroom in time for them to appreciate its glories before the dancing began. The rose-trellis wallpaper was almost hidden by draperies swathed to give the appearance of a pavilion. Looking around, Felix wondered whether Fanny would be awed, or shocked, or would burst into laughter at the sight of such wildly extravagant decorations.

Crimson, gold, and black hangings; pillars wreathed with ribbons, leaves, and flowers; banks of roses and lilies, their heavy scent vying with the odour of hot wax from glittering chandeliers--the tiniest crease marred Lady Sophia’s smooth forehead. Amid the sumptuous splendour her spangled lemon-yellow gauze paled to insignificance.

As the ball guests began to arrive, Felix was no better satisfied with his sober black. Despite the call to arms, well-born officers in full dress uniform swarmed into the ballroom. Lord Garforth appeared, dripping with silver lace, and Lord Albert in his scarlet and gold. Felix felt an unexpected sympathy with the Comte de St Gérard, a drab fellow-civilian among the military magnificence.

He could not help feeling useless, though he had played an essential part in the preparations for war.

Lord Garforth led Lady Sophia out for the first set. Felix watched, not unwilling to stand still by one of the open French doors, for he feared his neckcloth was wilting. The heat was stifling. With luck, the night would grow cooler by the time he waltzed with her. Going in search of champagne, he met a friend, and stopped to discuss the latest disturbing rumour. He hoped Fanny was not hearing any of the alarming stories flying about Brussels.

When he returned to the ballroom, the floor had been cleared and a skirling of bagpipes announced the appearance of the duchess’s much discussed surprise. A detachment of Highlanders marched in and, kilts swinging, performed strathspeys and sword dances for the amusement of her guests.

Shouts of “Bravo!” rewarded their efforts, and they were bombarded with roses by appreciative young ladies. As they departed, the orchestra returned to strike up a waltz. Felix hurriedly sought out Lady Sophia.

“Did you enjoy the Scotch dancers?” he asked as they circled the room.

“An original diversion, but I cannot think it was proper for Lady Georgiana and those others to throw flowers. Why, the men were mere privates. It is always unwise to encourage the lower orders.”

“There was no harm in it,” Felix disagreed. Sometimes her sense of propriety and of her high rank went too far. “Tomorrow, after all, the French may be throwing shells and bullets at them.”

“Pray do not talk of war,” she said, with a touch of petulance. “It is all anyone can think of, I vow, and it can hardly be considered an agreeable subject of conversation.”

A disagreeable subject, to be sure, but unavoidable. When Felix returned Lady Sophia to the marchioness’s side, she was at once swept away by the count, but Lady Daventry detained him to quiz him about the outbreak of hostilities. All over the ballroom, while young ladies and their uniformed suitors danced with a desperate gaiety, their elders gathered in groups to wonder why Wellington had not yet put in an appearance. Already here and there an officer bid farewell to a fainting sweetheart, a pallid mother or wife or sister, and slipped out into the night.

After his second dance with Lady Sophia, Felix was tempted to dash home just to check that Fanny was holding up. He went so far as to head for the door, reaching it just as Wellington at last arrived with several of his staff in tow.

Georgiana Lennox darted off the floor, dragging her partner behind her. “Oh, Duke,” she cried, “do pray tell me: Are the rumours true? Is it war?”

“Yes, they are true. We are off tomorrow.”

The news whipped around the ballroom like a whirlwind, leaving consternation as it passed. Felix found himself next to Lord Fitzroy.

“What the devil are you fellows doing here?” he asked. “Don’t tell me the Beau didn’t dare risk the duchess’s displeasure!”

“What better place to find all the ranking officers? We heard from Mons at last--not a sign of the French--so we’re deploying eastward.”

“Towards Quatre Bras?”

“Yes. You know it?”

“The artillery captain at my lodgings said there was a scuffle there this afternoon.”

Fitzroy stared. “I’ve heard nothing of it.”

“I didn’t rush to tell you because it’s little more than yet another rumour. Ingram was not actually present. And if it is true, since our fellows were involved, I was certain you’d have been informed.”

The Duke’s Military Secretary glanced indecisively over his shoulder at his commander, now seated nearby on a sofa chatting with Lady Dalrymple-Hamilton. Every now and then he would break off and call a passing officer to him to give directions. Felix saw the Prince of Orange, who had been dancing with his usual exuberance, and the Duke of Brunswick conferring with Wellington for some minutes.

“You’re right,” Fitzroy said, “it’s just another rumour so far, and if it’s true we are aimed in the right direction.”

Felix was glad he’d be able to tell Fanny that the entire British army was on its way to reinforce her brother’s position. He had half a mind to leave right away, but there was always the hope of further news.

The Duke rose to his feet as Lady Charlotte Greville came up to speak to him. At that moment one of Slender Billy’s aides, in riding dress, brought in a despatch. The prince gave it to the Duke unopened and, excusing himself, Wellington read it. His expression of forced gaiety turned grim.

He called back the prince’s aide. Felix heard him order, “Four horses instantly to the Prince of Orange’s carriage!” Turning back to the prince and Brunswick, he told the former to return at once to Braine-le-Comte. Brunswick left with him.

“Braine-le-Comte is not far from Quatre Bras,” said Fitzroy softly. “I’d best go to him.”

The Duke’s staff converged on him in a brief flurry of activity. Half the ball guests pretended not to see, while the rest watched anxiously. Wellington emerged calm and smiling and proceeded towards the supper room with Lady Georgiana Lennox on his arm.

Sir Alexander Gordon, on his way out, paused beside Felix. “Charleroi’s taken,” he muttered. “Blücher has fallen back on Ligny.” He shook Felix’s hand and hurried on.