An Officer, Not a Gentleman: A Traditional Regency Romance (Brethren in Arms Book 3)

by Elizabeth Johns

  “You will be interested to know that our brethren have all arrived, even Thackeray,” Elliot said to Lieutenant O’Neill.

  “I have not seen them since your wedding. Thackeray decided to join in the fight again, eh?”

  “Strictly on a volunteer basis,” Elliot answered, “much to the chagrin of those who sit in their neat, comfortable clubs back in London.”

  Lieutenant O’Neill muttered something under his breath. It was the dearest little habit of his, Bridget thought.

  “I remember the brethren,” she remarked. “You were as thick as thieves, if I remember correctly.”

  “We lost Peter at Vitoria, then Waverley was injured and sold out,” Elliot explained.

  “Then he had the daft idea to purchase me a commission,” O’Neill teased.

  “You came to my rescue twice, Tobin,” Amelia retorted, “and he did it so you could look for Philip. I think you will do.”

  “What is your opinion of following the drum, so far?” Bridget asked Lady Amelia.

  “I do not think being quartered in Brussels is a fair taste,” she answered.

  “Not yet, no. I am going into town tomorrow, to begin gathering supplies, if you would like to help me. You may not wish to assist with nursing, but there are many things you may do to help without dirtying your hands.”

  “If you did not wish for her help, you said the wrong thing,” Captain Elliot interjected into their conversation, a twinkle in his eye.

  “Yes, indeed,” Lady Amelia agreed with a reciprocal twinkle. She leaned forward as though imparting a secret. “I am not very adept at behaving like a proper lady.”

  Lieutenant O’Neill let out a guffaw. “Saints above, that is an understatement.”

  Lady Amelia simply returned with a cheeky look bearing pride and affection.

  “Miss Murphy is a very competent nurse. I wish we had a force of them all trained as well as she is. I am certain she could teach most of the raw sawbones a thing or two,” Captain Elliot told his wife and Lieutenant O’Neill.

  “Of course,” Bridget said with a smile. “Nurses and doctors need to be trained just as soldiers do. Practising medicine after a battle has far different needs from those of a hypochondriac in her boudoir.”

  “I could prescribe smelling salts,” Amelia quipped. “I confess I am fascinated. I have been wondering how I will spend my time once the men are called away.”

  “If you have a strong constitution, there will be more required than you or I can do, but we will do what we may, which is better than nothing.”

  “I would much rather look at your face than any sawbones,” Tobin added.

  Bridget laughed as the carriage took a track into the Soignes Forest and followed it for several hundred yards. The coachman drew the horses to a halt in a pretty spot beside a sparkling lake which the Duchess had chosen for the picnic.

  Since it had been decided to do without servants, the gentlemen dutifully helped the ladies carry the hampers and spread blankets on the ground beneath a canopy of beech trees along the water. The ladies then passed out plates of food.

  A delectable array of dishes was set out before them, including Château d’Arville, Fromage de Bruxelles, and Passchendaele cheeses served with crackers; waffles with cubes of sugar baked inside and served with fresh berries and cream; sandwiches of ham and egg all complimented with light wines and ale.

  “It is much more comfortable to have the ladies with us,” Captain Elliot mused.

  “I suppose so. We never had any fancy picnics before,” Lieutenant O’Neill replied before biting into a chicken leg.

  “If only this were all it was,” Bridget said softly. “Forgive me, I do not mean to put a damper on the lovely afternoon. I have never been good at turning the soldier on and off.”

  “Wellington is the master, is he not?” the Duke put in. “I used to grow very frustrated with his notion that we fight by day and dance by night.”

  “I confess, it is why I do not wish to enter Society in England, having been brought up following the army from battle to battle. I admire people who can reintegrate so easily, but I am not one,” Bridget said softly.

  Lady Amelia smiled at her. “I do not know if I will be able to adapt, myself. I have never been good at conforming to the rules. I was bred to pretend nothing affected me and smile…”

  Her husband nearly choked on his drink but she ignored him.

  “I will depend upon you to show me how to go on, Miss Murphy.”

  “I would be delighted. We always need extra hands, Lady Amelia.”

  The others began their own conversations, and some of the gentlemen rowed ladies out in boats and others chose to fish. Bridget could feel the lieutenant’s eyes on her. She turned to look at him, questioning.

  “Tell me about it,” he said. “Do you go into the field?”

  “Sometimes, but never during the fighting. I help gather supplies, because there are never enough, and afterwards I help tend to the invalids.”

  “I was fortunate in my time with the army before. I only gained a few scratches.”

  “I pray it will remain the same, Lieutenant.” She looked him in the eye and knew he understood.

  “It is near,” he said softly.

  Bridget nodded, knowing it was true. “Then may we enjoy the time we can. Will you walk with me?” She could feel his reluctance, and she knew why. It had been her own reasoning for keeping gentlemen at a distance before.

  They walked along beside the water, the tall grasses and bulrush providing shelter for a skein of ducklings while some swans glided gracefully nearby. Saying very little, they enjoyed tranquil silence much as they had in the Park as nature happened around them. It was something Bridget would treasure always.

  Chapter 3

  It was strange, waging war the gentlemanly way. Before, when he had been a batman, Tobin had always been with the enlisted folk or other servants. Not that the Duke had ever treated him inferiorly—quite the contrary, in fact. However, now he was treated like a gentleman and expected to behave as one. He had chambers on the same floor as the family and sat at the table with them. Every morning since their arrival in Brussels, he had walked to Headquarters with Captain Elliot and Captain Murphy. Today was to be a military review, where all of the troops would be on display for their commander’s perusal. It was to be a grand show, indeed. Tobin had never had the luxury of being on display at any of these parades before, always taking up the rear.

  Now, he had a beautiful black stallion, Trojan, who had been handed on to him by the Duke of Waverley. He was well trained for battle and the Duke had said he was wasted in his stables in England.

  As Tobin joined Elliot and Murphy, who were mounting their horses to ride to the review, he wondered if they thought him as big a fraud as he felt.

  “I am jealous Luke allowed you to have Trojan,” Captain Elliot said as he watched Tobin mount.

  “He knew I could handle him,” Tobin replied with his usual cheek.

  Captain Murphy chuckled. “Now I know why my sister likes you.”

  She likes me? Tobin wondered. That remark indicated they had discussed him.

  “Bridget despises pretension. I am grateful you were able to draw her out at the ball.”

  “I would think you would rather pluck my eyes out,” Tobin said candidly.

  “Bridget’s life has not been hers to live. She will protest that she would have it no other way, but it is hard on her. Any amusement or happiness she can find for herself, I welcome.”

  Tobin was stunned.

  “I am glad she will be here to help Amelia. I know we are serving on staff this battle, but there are never any guarantees,” Captain Elliot added.

  “I would not say this in front of Bridget, and I know Lady Amelia has family to care for her should something happen, but I would like to know someone would look after my sister should something happen to me and my father. Our only other family is an elderly aunt and she is not someone you would choose to know.”<
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  “Of course, you have my word,” Captain Elliot said quickly.

  Murphy looked at Tobin. “Of course. I will do everything in my power to help,” he responded.

  “Thank you.” Murphy nodded. They said little else as they negotiated their horses through the traffic and out to the picturesque riverbank of the Dender near Grammont.

  Soon, they met up with Matthias, Lord Thackeray, James, Captain Frome, and Colin, Major White.

  “It will not be the same without all of us together,” Philip said.

  “Yes, enjoy your luxurious positions on staff, while the real officers hold the line,” James teased.

  “We will still be protecting your sorry arse,” Tobin muttered.

  “I will take that in the way it was intended,” Colin said. “I still remember how you saved Waverley that time at Ciudad Rodrigo. Someone had taken Peter out, and if you had not shot the cuirassier off his horse, he would have shot the Duke.”

  Tobin did not want to receive praise for what was his duty. Instead he looked over to Thackeray.

  “They let you out of your castle, eh?”

  “I have two younger brothers. You could not keep me away. We should have put Boney away properly the first time.”

  All of them murmured their agreement.

  “You look good wearing the pips,” Thackeray said, acknowledging Tobin’s rank.

  An open carriage pulled up beside them, holding the Duke and Duchess, Lady Amelia and Miss Murphy. Tobin would be lying if he said he was not affected by her presence. She looked like a bright summer day in a simple jonquil muslin, her hair tucked beneath a straw-chip bonnet with a couple of daisies intertwined with a ribbon. He wanted to pluck her from the carriage and take her to the meadow.

  “Speak of the devil,” Colin said.

  “I am quite jealous of you, Tobin,” the Duke said, looking fondly over his brethren and horse.

  “I will take good care of Trojan, Major.” As he spoke, the horse sidled over to greet his former master.

  “You were a good soldier, Trojan,” the Duke said, patting his charger’s nose. “But now you must do the same for Tobin.”

  Tobin’s eyes met Miss Murphy’s and he doffed his hat to her. “Greetings, ladies.”

  “We had better be on our way. Wellington would not take kindly to his staff arriving late,” Captain Elliot reminded them.

  As a group, the brethren rode on in front of the carriage, Tobin consciously aware of Miss Murphy behind him. So what if he sat a little straighter and prouder in his saddle—who would know beyond himself? They joined the thousands of soldiers and cavalrymen, James, Colin and Thackeray departing to parade with their battalion.

  Wellington joined them some minutes later, along with Blucher, and the assembled followed through the pomp and circumstance of the review. The cavalry went first, including the Guards, then the infantry. Tobin knew how important the display was for the morale of the troops. Seeing that the army was large and grand would give them confidence ahead of the big day like nothing else would. It certainly made it feel real to Tobin. It would not hurt, he thought, for word to reach Napoleon’s ears, a likely possibility since all of Brussels appeared to have come to watch.

  After Wellington was satisfied, the soldiers were released to their commanders for drill. Tobin, Murphy and Elliot returned to say farewell to those in the carriage before returning to Headquarters. It was quite the social event, Tobin mused. He had not particularly noticed how fine the ladies were dressed before, but now, seeing all the carriages full of ladies, with their fancy bonnets and parasols, and gentlemen in their smartest, Tobin really had to shake his head at the ways of the beau monde.

  “It seems ridiculous, does it not?”

  Tobin turned at the sound of Miss Murphy’s voice.

  “Are my thoughts so obvious?” he asked, surprised at his response to her.

  “I confess I preferred the Peninsular campaign. That did not resemble a small Season in London. Nevertheless, I am glad if people’s families can be here to provide comfort.”

  “Or distraction,” he retorted, drawing a smile from her.

  “I will not tell anyone our true feelings,” she said, her eyes still twinkling.

  “I suspect most of these people will leave soon. Reports are starting to come in that the French are advancing.”

  Miss Murphy nodded. “It will be just as well if they leave. I must begin my preparations when we return to town. These ladies have agreed to help me.”

  “Waverley is staying?”

  “For now, apparently.”

  “I suppose he has his own carriage and horses and can leave when he wishes,” he reflected.

  “Will you be attending The Duchess of Richmond’s ball?” she asked.

  “Not if I can help it,” he teased.

  “If only I can be so fortunate.” She pretended to pout.

  “You are not a typical lady, mo álainn.”

  “Much to my father’s chagrin,” she agreed with a laugh.

  “We had better be going,” the Duke called to Tobin. “I have kept my Duchess out in the heat long enough.”

  “I wish you would stop fussing over me, Luke. I am perfectly well,” the Duchess scolded.

  “We must be returning to our duties anyway,” Tobin said, winking at the Duchess.

  “He is a rogue, but I adore him for it,” the Duchess remarked as the carriage pulled away to cross the bridge over the river.

  “It is a good thing I know the two of you are happily married,” the Duke said wryly.

  “Yet Miss Murphy is not,” Lady Amelia added with a scheming look.

  “I cannot argue with any of your statements.” Bridget smiled.

  Everyone laughed.

  “I do hope Tobin can settle down and find happiness after this is over with,” the Duchess added. “He deserves it.”

  “You will get no argument from me,” the Duke said. “It was one of the hardest things I have ever done, to send him away.”

  “Do you think he is happy as an officer?” Lady Amelia asked. “Philip seems to think he is uncomfortable in the role, even though none of them view him as a former enlisted man.”

  “I imagine Tobin does it to himself. He would never tell you, but he is the natural son of an earl. Tobin chooses not to accept any charity, as he calls it, from him. His father tried to purchase him a commission before.”

  “I am glad he accepted it from you, then,” the Duchess said.

  “Only under duress.” The Duke chuckled.

  Bridget sat and listened to these highest of aristocrats speak of Lieutenant O’Neill as though he were a member of their family. She was not herself of the aristocracy, although, as a general’s daughter, she had mingled with them from time to time, and her uncle had been a baron. She was quite certain Lieutenant O’Neill would be mortified to know they were speaking of him thus. She wanted to know more about him. He seemed an enigma to her. He had only ever mentioned his mam and sister, but apparently he had a rich and powerful father he shunned. He had done well for himself on his own merit.

  Bridget realized Lady Amelia had asked her a question. “I beg your pardon, I was wool-gathering,” she replied politely.

  “I had only asked how we may be of help to you. I heard you mention to Tobin that you must begin your preparations. What exactly do you do to help during a battle?” Lady Amelia asked.

  “Sometimes, very little, but frequently I help nurse the wounded. Many of the camp followers do.”

  “Even ladies?” the Duchess asked.

  “Not all, but many do. I confess I have never been able to remain idle whilst the men are fighting. Not that it hurt that, to a fourteen-year-old girl, Dr. Craig was as handsome as a Greek god,” she said, to appreciative laughter. “He gave me some of his instruments when he left the army to return to Scotland.”

  “And you continued helping the wounded anyway,” the Duke said in a jocular tone.

  “It seems the right thing to do since I have
the ability. I intend to empty every apothecary’s shop I may during the next few days.”

  “After seeing the ranks of men today and hearing that Bonaparte has over 500,000, I fear there will not be enough supplies in Europe for the carnage.”

  “How may we help?” Lady Amelia asked again.

  “I carry trunks of blankets around with me. Warmth helps the most with shock. Boiling water ahead of time and preparing willow bark tea helps with some of the pain. Laudanum is necessary for the more severe injuries,” Bridget explained, “so any of these things I can acquire or prepare beforehand is of considerable help.”

  “You do so much,” Lady Amelia exclaimed.

  “And, of course, we will require bandages. I will spend the next few days tearing flint into strips.”

  “Then we will tear them with you. I do not know how long we will remain in Brussels. If the fighting gets too close, we will leave, but we are at your disposal until then,” the Duchess assured her.

  “I intend to stay. Where do they put the wounded?” Lady Amelia asked. “Are there tents set up for them?”

  “It depends on the battle. Usually there are tents on the edges of the battlefields for the most dire cases, but I suspect many of the wounded will need to be cared for here, in Brussels. I intend to make our house available.”

  “I will keep ours if you think it would help,” the Duke said. “In fact, I know it will help. I have been one of the wounded at the mercy of the sawbones.”

  As they drove back into town, at every apothecary or shop they passed which the Duke thought might have the supplies they sought, he stopped and bought all he could.

  By the time they returned to the house, each lady’s arms were overflowing with blankets, bandages or medicines. Bridget laughed at the enormity of the Duke’s purchases and accepted their invitation to take tea and begin working on the preparations. A nurse soon brought down their young infant, Lady Frances, and the Duke held her while they organized supplies.

  “I hope you do not mind, Miss Murphy,” the Duke said sheepishly. “When you reminded me of my own injury and the person who saved my leg, I suddenly felt the need to do what I could.”