by Tanya Allan
I sought out Mr Groves.
“It seems we are to go to France. Roger has been promoted to Lieutenant Colonel, commanding a regiment of dragoons. We are to go to France. So, close up the house, and we all are going.”
“All of us Madam?” said Groves, shocked.
“Why not? Have you been to France?”
“Never, madam.”
“Then it is time you did. As the staff of a colonel, it would be proper for his household to move intact.”
“Yes madam, I will tell Cook, but I don’t imagine she will be impressed.”
The next few days were chaotic, as I arranged everything from transport, horses and food for the journey to accommodation on the way. We even arranged for Snowflake and the rest of the stables to follow us. Unlike the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, when people could pop over to France for the day in a matter of an hour or so, this was a journey of several days, just to reach Dover.
It was like being a First Sergeant again, with all the logistics to arrange and people to manage. The old skills came flooding back, and I revelled in it.
After a frustrating day in Dover, watching a squall blow down the channel, we finally embarked on a boat that I thought had seen better days. However, the crossing was mercifully gentle, and we sailed into Calais still with the contents of our stomachs intact.
Roger was standing on the dock waiting for us, so when his entire household appeared, he was amazed.
He swept me off my feet, and I clung to him. I had missed him so much. Katie was in his arms before he released me, and little William took it all in his stride. We took our carriages off to Paris, and arrived in the evening to the cobbled courtyard of my husband’s acquired house.
It had belonged to one of Bonaparte’s lieutenants, so was expensively decorated with fine furnishings.
The children were put to bed after some warm milk and bread. I sat with my husband, drinking some fine Burgundy wine as he told me of his adventures. He had seen a few skirmishes, and one minor battle. He assured me that he had never been in danger.
With the fire dying in the grate and in the light of one candle, he looked at me with such fondness that I almost wept.
“Dear Jane. I knew you would come. I never asked Marjorie, as I knew she would never have attempted such a journey, but you are made of sterner stuff. Damn it, I swear that you would make a dashed fine trooper.”
“Trooper? Come now, husband, I’d make a captain at least!” I said.
We went up to bed, and slept but little. We enjoyed rediscovering each other that night, sleeping late into the following morning.
Roger was away by noon, so I took the household in hand. I spoke fluent French, courtesy of the download, so I was able to arrange for some more staff and for the provision of food and other essentials. Roger, as a regimental commander, was financially much better off than ever before. Thus, his provisions were courtesy of the army, so it was with great relish, I established a home that he could entertain in the style he should.
After a week, it was no great surprise to be greeting the Duke of Wellington himself, as he came to dine, along with other titled and decorated commanders.
“Ah, Mrs de Lambert, your table is renowned in Paris for having no limitations and infinite choice. It is so pleasant to dine in the company of such a beautiful woman, whose husband just does not fully appreciate you,” the Duke said as he kissed my hand.
“Your Grace is too kind. But sadly, my table is limited by supply, but I manage the best I can.”
Groves was in seventh heaven. He now supervised six members of staff and oversaw the entertainment of top quality people. The kitchen was chaotic, with Mrs Groves screaming in a delightful mixture of English and pigeon French,
“If you voulez vous, git this ‘ere dish to la bloody table, as soon as possible, please. Merci buckets!”
Katie loved every moment, improving her French every day, and we settled down to a lovely routine.
Our social life took off, with dances and balls occurring regularly. I took on the services of a Paris dressmaker called Marie Crannard, and with a good deal of input from me, she created a complete wardrobe for me. I was so fed up with fashion garments that constricted and restricted the female form, so I pushed her to design some with flair and freedom, within the bounds of what was considered decent. I accidentally found myself at the leading edge of fashion, gaining a reputation as a foremost beauty in Paris. If my fellow sergeants in the Marines could see me now!
Summer progressed, and our home on the Rue de Gervaise was usually the centre of activities. I had brought Roger’s guitar, so often found myself giving impromptu concerts for a host of admirers, at the forefront was my adoring husband.
I had several young and dashing officers set their cap at me, swearing undying love, if I would only leave my husband. We all knew it was a game, and I never once gave Roger cause for concern. He trusted me so completely that it was very humbling, yet I loved him so much he had no reason to doubt me.
I would often ride in the park with my husband, who wore his uniform and sabre. On one occasion in early June, I saw the tall man whom I had identified as my enemy, having seen him that once in Abingdon. We were waiting by the pond, when he walked past, looking neither right nor left. He was dressed like a clerk, all in black, with a wide brimmed hat.
Roger saw me staring at him, and watched my frown.
“My love, what is wrong?”
“That man, I have seen him before, but I can’t recall where,” I said, nodding towards the walking man.
“You must see people all the time?”
“Not like him; he’s evil,” I said, and such was my tone that he frowned and looked closely at the man.
“That’s not like you,” he said.
“I feel a sense of danger and death about him.”
“In what way?”
“I feel he is here to kill someone; someone important.”
Roger laughed, but when I remained serious, he frowned.
“Jane, this is most unlike you. I have never seen you like this.”
“I have never experienced this feeling before. It is like a premonition. I think he is here to kill the Duke.”
“The Duke of Wellington? Now don’t be preposterous. Who would want to kill the Duke?”
“The French, the Americans, the Spanish, even some of the disillusioned English soldiery.”
“So what do we do?”
“Follow him, see where he goes,” I said, and so we did.
It was common knowledge that the Duke took the air in the park most days, and would often ride with his friends for an hour or so. So, it was no surprise to see them enter the park in the distance. The man was walking faster now, and one hand was in his pocket.
“Roger, the man has a pistol!” I said.
The Duke was on his horse, and the party was walking their horses down the main avenue in no hurry. The man was on a grassy bank, and I smiled as the ironic similarities to JFK were only obvious to me.
Roger drew his sabre and galloped along the grass towards the scene. I saw the hooves casting up great clods of earth and heard the jingle of the bridle. I knew it was a matter of time before the man would turn and see Roger. I suddenly was very afraid for my husband.
The man was so concentrating on the Duke that he did not turn and see Roger as I expected. Instead, as his target came into range, the assassin drew his pistol. The Duke turned and opened his mouth as he saw the man with the gun.
Roger swung his sabre, taking the assassin’s arm right off just below the shoulder. The arm fell, with the pistol falling from the dead fingers, exploding harmlessly into the earth. A few horses jumped, the party scattered slightly, and the assassin collapsed onto the ground.
I rode to where Roger was now dismounting. He still clutched his sabre and I could see he was going to strike the man on the ground.
“Roger. No!” I cried, reining in my horse.
The Duke rode up to us.
> “I am greatly indebted to you Colonel. It seems that our enemies will stop at nothing to sour our victory,” he said to Roger.
“Sir, it was my wife who saw his evil plot. She drew my attention to him, so I was just in time.”
The man on the ground was very pale and losing blood rapidly. I dismounted and bound the wound with my head scarf. He stared at me, and suddenly recognition came to his eyes.
“You! The woman in England,” he whispered.
“You are history, my friend,” I whispered back. He shuddered, dying in my arms. I swore silently, as I had hoped to obtain some intelligence from him, but was now none the wiser.
“He is dead, sir,” I said, looking up at the tall Duke.
The Duke dismounted, holding out a hand towards me, so I allowed him to assist me to my feet.
“Mrs de Lambert, I am in your debt. It is not every day a man has his life saved by the most beautiful woman in Paris. Your courage, humanity and loyalty are without exception, and of the finest example I have ever seen. You showed no hesitation in trying to save his life, despite the blood and dismembered limb. You are an example to us all.”
I smiled, as there wasn’t much I could say to that.
“Did he speak?” One of the Duke’s Aides asked.
“Yes sir, he spoke English, with a discernable accent.”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘Curse you, and curse England!’,” I improvised.
Two junior officers were detailed to remove the body and to attempt to ascertain as to who he was. Roger was holding his sabre with the assassin’s blood still on the blade.
“You may sheath your sabre now, Colonel. Your duty is done, with my thanks. I would ask, sir, that you accompany me to my headquarters,” said the Duke.
Roger started as if shocked, sheathing his weapon as the Duke had commanded.
“Captain Pierce.”
“Your Grace?”
“Be so kind as to escort Mrs de Lambert home. And please ensure that anything she requires is supplied.”
“With pleasure, sir.”
A young Captain dismounted and helped me mount my horse again, noting with surprise that I rode astride.
I was still recovering my wits, so only then attempted to see if any other enemy agents had witnessed this incident. The good captain believed me to be in shock, so I let him know, clearly, that it wasn’t the case.
It was only then that I noticed that blood covered my pale blue riding habit. I swore, as I knew that it would be hard to get out. When I explained this to the good captain, he started to laugh, shaking his head.
“Damn, but you are a cool one, Madam. Most women would be requiring smelling salts after witnessing what you just have. But here you are swearing like a trooper, bemoaning the stains on your dress,” he said.
“Believe me, I am not your usual simpering violet,” I said, and I almost heard Edward Ryan’s accent slipping in.
By the time I arrived home, the news of an incident had spread across Paris, and there was talk below stairs that somehow Roger and I had been involved.
When Roger returned for dinner, the full facts were revealed to polite society. Thus, we were the reluctant hero and heroine of the moment. There is nothing like drawing attention to oneself. I hoped that whomever we were up against were deaf, blind and stupid, otherwise I was probably in line for a visit.
When we went to bed, I could sense that something was troubling him.
“What is it, my love?” I asked.
“I have been thinking about what happened, and I am amazed that your instinct told you so accurately that that stranger was an assassin. How can this be?”
“I know not. It has never happened to me before. All I can assume is that for a moment I was blessed with second sight,” I said.
“Well. Thank all that is holy that you did, for without a doubt, the Duke would have been shot had you not done so.”
We held each other for a long time, and finally, under my tender ministrations, he mounted me and made love to me in a very kind and gentle way. We slept, and as I drifted off, I wondered what the future held.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Unexpected.
The year passed, and I enjoyed Paris. Napoleon was banished to Elba, and Roger found himself in the Duke’s circle of aides. Our home was frequented more and more by the rich and powerful, but our limited income was in danger of being sucked dry.
His Grace the Duke of Wellington came to our rescue, and we found ourselves the beneficiaries of funding through the General Staff. We were able to take on more staff, and I found myself employing a new teacher for Katie.
She was so bright, that I knew she had passed beyond my limited scope. However, a young Englishman offered his services. He was the son of one of Wellington’s senior officers, who had died at Salamanca in Spain, just prior to Wellington occupying Madrid. Thus the boy was somewhat disinclined to become a soldier, and was searching for a teaching post with an English family. His name was Raymond Spurway, and he was a delightful young man of some nineteen years. He wished to go to Oxford, but lacked the funds, and so was hoping to work for a year so, to enable him to fulfil his dream.
Katie took to Raymond immediately. She was becoming a real flirt, so at nine, already knew how to twist men around her little finger. Initially, she always explained to anyone who cared to listen that I was not her real mother, but latterly, she no longer bothered to correct the assumption that I was indeed her mother. I think she became proud of me, being happy to acknowledge me as her mother.
Our second Christmas together was in Paris in 1814, and I was feeling concerned as I had now missed two periods. This was unusual, but due to being told that I could never conceive, I had not put a great deal of thought at missing the first. However, missing the second made me think carefully about things.
Christmas day was a gay affair, and I use the word in the old original sense. The house was full of young officers and their sweethearts and wives. Even the Duke dropped in for a glass or two before going to dine with some French royalty.
We allowed Katie to stay up and greet the dinner guests, and she pushed it to nearly nine o’clock. She had had a wonderful Christmas, and when I tucked her into bed and asked her what her favourite bit was, she had astounded me with her answer.
“When we took those parcels of food and clothes to the soldiers in their hospital.”
I had taken Katie with me, along with several other officers’ wives, and we had visited the wounded soldiers in their hospital just on the outskirts of Paris. We had supplied them with food and sweets that we had clubbed together and bought. We had also managed to acquire items of warm clothing sent from England, and found grateful recipients for everything.
I smiled, and she grinned at me.
“You see, I remembered that giving is so much better than receiving. But receiving is nice as well,” she said, referring to the pretty new dress that I had bought for her.
I kissed her good night, and Roger had been standing at the door again. He had an annoying habit of creeping up on me like that.
He gave his daughter a hug, and then took me in his arms after we had shut her door.
“I am so blessed in finding you,” he said.
“Forgive me, but I thought I found you?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Of course, but I will never let you get away with anything,” I said, and he kissed me.
“Jane, why are you so delightful?”
“Because I have a delightful husband and family.”
We went down and saw to our guests, and the party went on to the early hours.
When we finally went to bed, I snuggled up to my husband, and put my arm around his tummy.
“Roger?”
“My love?”
“I have missed two periods.”
“You mean you are pregnant?” he asked, a tremor in his voice.
“I don’t know, but it is possible.”
He hugged me, almost crushing the wind out of me.
“Oh, my darling one, is it what you want?”
“Above everything else,” I answered, quite truthfully.
“Then we shall pray that you are,” he said, and cradled me in his arms.
I was in the mood for far more energetic activity, and stroked his cock until it was nice and hard. I then kissed my way down until I took him in my mouth, tasting the salty trickle of anticipation that seeped from the end. When I had him moaning with pleasure, I turned onto my tummy and asked him to fuck me from behind.
I felt him slide into my very wet hole, so he pounded into me with growing energy. He grabbed my breasts and I came again and again, until he rolled onto his back, and I sat astride him as he had grown to love. I rode him hard, while he licked and sucked my nipples until I flooded him with my orgasmic juices, and he finally shot his bolt deep within me.
Then he pushed me onto my back, and proceeded to lick my clitoris with his tongue, and I lost count of how many times I came. I moaned and had to beg him to stop, but by this time he was hard again, and entered me for a second instalment. He fucked me very hard and fast, until we were both bathed in sweat and each other’s juices. I felt animalistic and very carnal, and I licked his limp cock enjoying the mixed flavours of his semen and my wetness.
“My God! Jane, what do you do to me?”
“What you deserve,” I said, as we kissed.
We finally slept, totally sated once again.
I was pregnant.
The enormity of the fact dawned as I felt my swelling abdomen. It was not possible. They told me that it had never happened. However, that was different to not being able to happen, it just had never happened.
It had now, and my body was telling me all about it. By April, I was enormous, and my breasts were expanding and tender. There was no doubt at all. The baby was due in July 1815, and I knew that the battle of Waterloo would be on the 18th June. I wondered whether the poor little mite would have a father.
Roger was ecstatic, insisting that I take everything easy. I lost my temper with him, and informed him that I was a darn site more substantial than most women he knew. Then I instantly regretted it, and did as he told me, almost.
