She took the largest pair of boots she could find and placing all she had collected in her skirt, lifted it as the peasant women did when they collected sticks for their fires.
She was only just in time. An orderly, coming from the tent to throw yet another dead man’s clothes onto the pile, saw her moving away.
“Hey!” he shouted. “What are you doing? Get away from here or it’ll be the worse for you.”
Burdened as she was, Elvina managed to run. For a moment she thought that he might come after her, but it was obviously too much trouble.
He shouted something rude but unintelligible and went back into the tent.
Moving down amongst the trees out of sight of the camp, Elvina found her way back to Lord Wye. For a moment, when she reached the clump of shrubs where she had left him, she could not see him and her heart gave a sudden frightened leap of sheer fear.
Then he called her name softly.
“Elvina, I am here!”
She made her way to him through the bushes and found that he had hidden himself in the hole made by a tree that had fallen in the winter gales.
“Have you found anything?”
Standing above him, she looked down and then slowly let the skirt of her gown drop so that the trousers, tunic and boots fell at his feet.
“Clever child!”
His voice was warm with approval.
“Hurry and change,” she urged. “Don’t waste time. I have a feeling that they may appear at any moment.”
She turned her back and went to watch the camp through the bushes. Many of the soldiers had settled themselves down for the night.
Their tunics were off and they used them as pillows, turning their faces away from the fires and seeking the shelter of a wagon or a pile of baggage.
Others were laughing or flirting with the women, one or two were frankly making love, quite oblivious of those around them.
“These boots are damned tight!” Elvina heard Lord Wye exclaim.
She turned back to him and for the moment she could not help laughing. He looked so comical pulling at his boots, white hands stretching out of the shabby tunic.
They were obviously too tight.
“The only thing to do,” Lord Wye said, “is for me to release the front of these boots. They are already bursting from the seams and really I should be more comfortable with nothing at all on my feet.”
“Let your toes burst out of them,” Elvina agreed. “Many men over there are wearing boots in a far worse state. Remember you are supposed to have walked back here from Vitoria. It is quite a long way.”
“About sixty miles I imagine,” Lord Wye replied, “and over mountainous country. Poor devils! I would sympathise with them if I did not know that our own men will be advancing over it shortly.”
“Now? At this moment?” Elvina asked.
Her eyes met Lord Wye’s and they both thought the same thing at the same time.
“That is what we will do,” he said softly. “We will join up with Wellington’s Army.”
“How can we without being discovered?”
“Marshal Soult will be going into action almost at once if the Commodore is to be believed. You have seen an Army on the march, the baggage carts, the women, the hangers-on, those who have been wounded, but who wish to regain their Regiments, trail along behind. That is where we will be, Elvina, behind Marshal Soult’s Army and when Wellington breaks through we will be there to welcome him.”
“And supposing he doesn’t?” Elvina asked.
“He will,” Lord Wye answered confidently. “And what is the alternative? To walk through France? It is a long way to the English Channel and we would be in enemy country all the time.”
“No, you are right,” Elvina said. “It is our – only hope. But supposing they discover us?”
Lord Wye shrugged his shoulders.
“Don’t let us anticipate anything so unpleasant,” he said. “They must not discover us.”
“You speak French,” Elvina said reflectively, “but with such an accent.”
“Dammit! I have had the best teachers. I always rather fancied myself!”
Elvina laughed.
“It might be all right for exchanging Diplomatic pleasantries,” she said, “but a Frenchman would know at once that you were not one of his countrymen.”
She gave a little cry.
“I have it! Listen to me.”
Lord Wye looked over his shoulder.
“Speak lower. We don’t want to be overheard.”
As he spoke, he picked up his discarded garments and thrust them deep into a rabbit hole at the foot of a tree.
“Now,” he said. “What is your idea?”
“You have been – wounded,” Elvina said, looking at the bandage round his head. “You were hit in the head by a British bullet and although you wish to get back into the firing line, you are still dazed and perhaps – a little mental from what you have been through. I am looking after you, so I will speak for you. I will explain that you have been very brave, but are just a trifle mad.”
“Mad!” Lord Wye exclaimed. “I don’t think that is a part I particularly want to play.”
“It is safe. Do you not see how safe it is?” Elvina said. “All you have to do is to walk along looking rather stupid. And now, while I think of it – do something to your face, to your hands and to your fingernails. Do you suppose that any French soldier who has been into battle looks as clean as that? Besides – you are so fair.”
“I have already thought of that while you were away,” Lord Wye answered. “If anyone asks we must say I am from Brittany. The Frenchmen who come from there are very like the English, tall, often blue-eyed and fair-skinned.”
“Even so you would still have been out working in the fields or on the sea. Fortunately you are sunburned, but you still look too clean and your hands are too white.”
She looked around. There were some berries growing on one of the shrubs. She tried one on her own hands and realised that it had juice that was dark in appearance.
She picked a handful and going to Lord Wye, who was busy pushing his fingers into the earth round the uprooted tree to get his nails dirty, took his hand in hers and started to rub them into his skin.
She felt the strength of his fingers despite their fine bones. She wondered that they could be both strong and gentle.
“That is a good idea of yours,” Lord Wye said approvingly and then suddenly he bent and kissed her cheek. “I have not thanked you yet, child, for all you have done for me. If it was not for you, I should already be languishing in irons.”
She felt his lips burn against her skin. She bent her head to prevent him from seeing the sudden wave of scarlet that had crept up her cheeks.
He kissed her as he might have kissed any child, and yet, because in reality she was a woman, she could not accept it in the same light-hearted way that it had been given.
Her first kiss! She felt in some extraordinary way that it was a monumental moment and yet in fact she had no time to think about it.
“Your hands are – better,” she said abruptly, “and now I must do – your shirt.”
“No one will see it underneath the tunic,” he said.
“You might open it by mistake,” she answered. “Over there the men are in their shirtsleeves. If you did the same, your shirt would attract immediate attention.”
He had thrown away his cravat, but the whiteness and the fineness of his linen made it quite unsuitable for an ordinary soldier.
Obediently Lord Wye took off his tunic and for a moment Elvina hesitated. She knew that in reality he ought to discard his shirt altogether, but she could not bring herself to ask him to do so.
She knew how much he would hate to have the dirt and sweat of another man’s rough uniform coat against his skin, and so she set to work with berries and the soil around them to make the shirt look as dirty and dilapidated as possible.
His chest was hard beneath the softness of his shirt and sh
e felt her fingers quiver because she was touching him and it was difficult to remember the danger and the urgency.
She could only think that he was a man and she was trembling for some reason that she could not understand.
“And now what do we do?” Lord Wye asked.
He was disguised, there was no doubt about that. With the bandage round his head he looked as she had seen so many wounded men look, dishevelled and rather unkempt.
“We dare not stay here,” Elvina cautioned. “If they search the woods, they are certain to think it strange that we have hidden ourselves away. Come, we must be brave and sit near the hospital tents as if you had just had your head attended to.”
Walking slowly because his boots hurt him, Lord Wye struggled through the bushes and out into the wood.
“Now slouch a little, don’t walk so erect,” Elvina admonished him. “And look stupid, as if you were still half-unconscious from the bullet wound.”
They moved through the wood as far as the tents and then, with Elvina holding her breath in fear, they stepped out into the open. There was still a long queue waiting outside the hospital tents.
They sank down at the foot of one of the trees not very far from it. They were in the shadows, the flies buzzed round them and the noise of the camp seemed to encompass them.
They were only just in time. They had not been there for more than two or three minutes when from the woods behind them came the sound of voices, of men calling to each other as they beat their way through the bushes and trampled down the undergrowth.
“Cover your head,” Lord Wye said suddenly in a hoarse whisper. “They might recognise you.”
Elvina pulled up her gown and deliberately tore a strip from the hem of her cotton petticoat. The sand had stuck to it when it was wet and many washes had already yellowed and discoloured it. She tied it peasant-fashion over her head and under her chin.
“Now, don’t forget,” she said almost beneath her breath, “whatever they say to you, take no notice. You do not understand. You do not even hear – ”
The men were coming nearer. She did not dare to turn her head to look at them. It was best to seem unconcerned. She glanced at Lord Wye as he deliberately shrunk his head on his shoulders as if he was asleep.
His legs, with his toes sticking through the broken boots, were out in front of him. No one would suspect, she thought, that only a few hours ago he had appeared in the cabin of his own yacht looking the very picture of elegance.
The men who were searching the wood had reached them and came through the trees and into the camp. They were none of them the men who had been in the boat, Elvina thought.
They were seamen whom the Commodore must have ordered out from their Barracks to hunt for the fugitives.
“Comrade, have you seen an Englishman accompanied by a child?” she heard one of them ask the wounded waiting outside the hospital tents.
“If there was an Englishman here, you wouldn’t see him alive,” the man answered. “Mère de Dieu, but may the whole race rot like our corpses on those accursed mountains.”
The seaman gave no answer to this and walked away to join his compatriots. They talked among themselves and then moved through the camp asking questions here and there, but in a very perfunctory manner.
They were obviously quite assured that Lord Wye would not have dared to appear where there were soldiers.
Now that they were gone Elvina was conscious of the tension she had suffered. Without knowing it she had dug her nails into the palm of her hand and her lip was bleeding a little because her teeth had caught her lip to stop it trembling.
Lord Wye must suddenly have become aware of her agitation for he reached out and took her hand in his.
“They have gone,” he said quietly, “and we are still free.”
She turned to him with a little sob.
“I was afraid,” she whispered. “I would never have believed – that I could be so afraid. I thought at any moment they would discover you.”
“We are cleverer than they are,” he answered. “You must believe that. Confidence is the one thing that will carry us through any situation, however desperate.”
But now the danger was past and Elvina was still trembling. She put her free hand to her breast as if to still the tumult there and was suddenly conscious of the Duke of Wellington’s dispatches.
She made a little sound that was half a cry and half a laugh. Lord Wye’s fingers on hers were very warm and strong.
“It’s a desperate adventure,” he said gently. “But we are going to win through, you and I. Do you hear me, Elvina? Stop trembling and listen to me. We are going to win through. We are going to reach the British Army. I know it in my bones.”
She laughed a little tremulously at the expression.
“That is better,” he smiled. “You have been so brave up till now. In fact, if it was not for you, we should not be here. Now there are more obstacles ahead, but I am utterly convinced that we shall surmount them all.”
She felt as if his words, the look in his eyes and the touch of his hand hypnotised her.
She began to believe it was possible that they would succeed. Their whole plan was wild, mad and crazy, she thought, an adventure that only two people who were really a little deranged in the head would undertake.
And yet, because there was no alternative, they would attempt it.
“Do you trust me, Elvina?” she heard Lord Wye ask.
She looked up at him, her lips still quivering a little, but her eyes were as clear and trusting as those of a child.
“Yes,” she said. “I too have a feeling that we shall reach the Duke of Wellington.”
It was all very well to have faith in their ultimate goal, but they were both hungry and thirsty. The hospital tents were closing and the men waiting were dispersing. Soon it would be fully dark.
“We must have food,” Elvina said. “The troops will already have received their rations for today.”
“We can buy some,” Lord Wye replied.
“What with?” she enquired.
He made a little grimace.
“English gold.”
“It’s too dangerous,” she answered and then she gave an exclamation. “No, I have thought of a plan. Give me a guinea.”
He delved into the pockets of his tunic and brought out a gold guinea. She held it in her hand. What she was going to do was a risk and yet, as they had taken so many risks, one more did not seem to matter.
She rose to her feet and walked towards the soldiers, choosing with care not the first but the second group, who looked to her older and more responsible than some of the others.
She went up to a Sergeant.
“Pardon, Monsieur,” she said, “but will you tell me where I can sell a pretty gold piece?”
“Gold piece?” the Sergeant asked. “And where would a child like you be getting’ a gold piece?”
“From the man sitting over there by the hospital,” she answered. “He took it from an English soldier on the battlefield. Now we are hungry and we want to eat. He has not been paid, although the Emperor owes him for nigh on six months.”
This was drawing a bow at random. Elvina had heard how dilatory Napoleon was in paying his troops and anyway it was a condition that all Armies suffered from and all soldiers complained about it.
“Six months!” another soldier listening exclaimed. “Then he’s lucky. I haven’t been paid for two years.”
“Let’s look at your gold, child,” the Sergeant said.
Elvina opened her hand and showed him the guinea lying on it. Then, before he could take it from her, closed her fingers again.
The Sergeant looked over his shoulder calculatingly at Lord Wye and Elvina guessed that he was wondering whether he dare take the money by force and keep it for himself or whether such action would cause trouble.
“I will give you thirty francs for it,” he said at length.
It was robbery and Elvina knew it, but she did not dare pro
test.
“I will give you thirty-one,” the other soldier piped up.
“Thirty is what I said,” the Sergeant snapped at him. “It’s not too bad for the pickings from a battlefield.”
“Merci, monsieur,” Elvina murmured. “We are hungry and my man is in no condition to fight his way to the food wagons.”
“He’d be lucky if he got anythin’ if he did,” someone else exclaimed, while another soldier said mockingly,
“Your man! Can’t he find anythin’ bigger and more cuddlesome than a little skeleton like yourself?”
“I look after him all right,” Elvina replied.
There was a laugh at this, but it was good-humoured. The Sergeant handed over the thirty francs. Elvina gave him the gold guinea and with a muttered, “Merci bien, monsieur,” ran back to Lord Wye.
“He gave me thirty francs for it,” she whispered.
“The thieving devil,” Lord Wye replied.
“It does not matter. It will get us all we need. Get up now and we will go down to the town. Lean on my shoulder and keep your head down. You must not look tall or in good health for that matter.”
They moved slowly away from the camp. It was not far to the town and, as Elvina expected, there was a market in the Grande Place.
There was not much to buy for the peasants had been plundered of almost all they possessed and therefore kept everything they could conceal from the ravishing thieving troops.
Elvina managed to buy some flour and, at an exorbitant price, half a dozen eggs, a tiny piece of cheese and some stale bread.
“Where can we eat?” she asked, looking round at the seething mob of people in the Grande Place.
“What about trying that Church?” Lord Wye suggested, pointing to the open door of an ancient building surmounted by a spire.
“But, of course,” Elvina answered.
They slipped inside. Here there was emptiness, peace, the flicker of candles and the fragrance of incense.
Elvina dropped on her knees and said a prayer. Lord Wye did not kneel, but she felt that he too was praying for help.
They ate the bread and cheese, unable to wait any longer to satisfy their hunger.
Love Under Fire Page 9
