Regency Belles & Beaux

by Michele McGrath

  “Word came at the ball,” Alice told him. “People went straight back to camp. Those of us left behind did not feel much like dancing after that. I came away as soon as I could.”

  The rest of the night passed anxiously. Alice did not want to go to bed but eventually Grace persuaded her to do so. She sat for a long time holding Alice’s hand until she drifted off at last. When Grace returned to the salon, she found Philip poking the fire moodily. He looked up and smiled at her.

  “This is not how I expected to spend my wedding night,” she exclaimed.

  “Neither did I, but history is being made at this moment, one way or the other.”

  “Do you think we should leave Brussels now?”

  “Not yet, but we must be ready to do so if necessary. When it is light and we have had some sleep, we’ll pack what we need for a journey to the coast.” He stood up. “Come back to bed. Things always look better in daylight.”

  But in that statement, Philip was mistaken.

  In the morning, both women packed. Since most of their baggage had departed with the coaches for England, they had little to take, only the things that they had acquired during their stay in Brussels. For safety, Grace stowed away her pearls, her only valuable possessions, in a pocket tied securely inside her dress.

  “I am as ready as I can be,” Grace said as she came into the salon where Alice and Philip were waiting to partake of the midday meal. “What do we do next?”

  Philip stood up and took out his wallet. “I have been to change some money.” He handed both women a small package. “If we are separated for any reason, there is enough in there to take you back to England. Hide it on your person and let’s all hope that you don’t need to use any of it.”

  The nuncheon was served, though none of the three had much appetite. As they rose from the table, Alice said,

  “By the way, I have sent Madeleine home to her family. It’s not right that she should be away from them at this moment. I told her she can return as soon as we know what is happening and if she does not come, I won’t blame her. What a strange time we are living through.”

  “Let’s go and find out more,” Philip suggested.

  They walked through streets which were crowded with hurrying people, most of whom appeared to be on the same errand. A group stood waiting outside Sir Charles’ residence, and others were at the Mairie. No one seemed to know anything. There was a lot of excited chatter but no real facts. One lady declared that,

  “If there is no more news, then perhaps I will order my carriage and visit my husband.”

  A man immediately said to her,

  “Don’t do that. If the army is on the move, as it very well might be, you would be decidedly in the way or you could even be captured by the enemy.”

  Another woman gave a little squeal. “They say that the French are demons and no woman is safe if they capture her.”

  “Rubbish,” Philip murmured. “French soldiers are no worse than any others and they have more things on their mind than females.”

  “Hush, people will hear you.” Grace clutched his arm as one or two faces turned to look at them. “Let’s go away from here. I don’t want you to be arrested.”

  They continued to walk around, overhearing snatches of conversation that only revealed the ignorance of the speakers. Eventually they went into a small park and sat down, enjoying the gleams of sunshine that had penetrated some of the grey clouds. Then they noticed the sound of wheels and the creaking of wood in the street outside. At first they ignored it, but then they heard someone shouting and what sounded like groans. Grace jumped to her feet and hurried to the park gates. A stream of wagons came down the road, filled with soldiers. There was blood on their faces and their uniforms were torn. Other men stumbled alongside, helping each other and grimacing with pain. Her hand flew to her mouth as she took in the scene.

  “Oh, my God, who are they?”

  “Most of them are ours, some are Prussians,” Philip said as he hurried forward towards the procession which drew to a halt in the roadway.

  Their peaceful afternoon had ended. House doors opened and men were carried inside. Those that remained closed were hammered on or their entrances broken down. Even after the removal of some of the worst of the injured to hospitals and convents, there were not enough places for all. The square became filled with groaning bodies. Doctors and nuns passed among them, ordering those nearby to help. Although sickened by the shocking sights, both Alice and Grace volunteered. They soon lost sight of each other and of Philip. There did not seem to be time to look for friends. They brought water, put on bandages, held arms and legs while wounds were examined and shut the eyes of those who had breathed their last in this once pretty place. Neither woman forgot that day for the rest of their lives. Dusk was falling before the numbers began to dwindle. By then Grace was wet through, from the light rain which had started a short time before. She had not noticed it, because she was very hot. The coolness and moisture cooled her skin as she lifted her face to the sky. She set down the pail she was carrying and rubbed her aching back, looking about her for the first time since she had started working. The wounded that could be moved were already under cover. Rough tents had been erected over those who had to remain where they were lying. The dead were being heaved onto carts in haste and with very little dignity. There seemed to be an endless stream of bodies. She shivered, suddenly icy cold. Very few of the helpers were left now, only a few inside the crude shelters. All at once she wondered if she would be able to walk the short distance to her room. No one told her she could go, but no one stopped her as she stumbled out of the gate and walked in the direction of the hotel. She was nearly there when a warm arm slipped around her waist and a familiar voice said in her ear,

  “There you are. I’ve been searching for you everywhere.”

  She turned in his arms and held him close. “Alice?” she asked.

  “Inside where you should be.” He swept her up and carried her the short distance into the hotel. She was shocked to see the rows of wounded laid out in the foyer. They climbed the stairs where a similar sight met her eyes. Philip picked his way carefully down the corridor to their own rooms. When he set her down, she saw that she was in the bedroom which Alice and Edward had shared, not their own. The bed was occupied and the occupant asleep. She could see the woman’s tousled hair.

  “Where...?”

  “Every room in the hotel has been taken over by the wounded. I had the greatest difficulty in preventing them from evicting us from this one, so you will have to share with Alice. She wanted to stay awake to be sure you were safe, but she couldn’t keep her eyes open. I’ve never seen her so tired.” He nodded to the sleeping figure.

  “And you? Where will you sleep?”

  “In the corridor. It’s not the first time I’ve slept on the floor. Now let me get you out of those filthy things.”

  Grace looked down and realised that her summer dress was soaking and stiff with mud and blood. Philip untied the laces and peeled it off her skin. His hands were steady and for once there was no light of dalliance in his eyes. She felt grateful, for she had no taste for lovemaking herself, after the scenes she had seen that day. She knew they would haunt her for the remainder of her life. From somewhere Philip had obtained water, so she could wash some of the dirt away. Then he helped her into the bed and pulled the covers over her. He dropped a kiss on her forehead and turned away to seek his own rest.

  When she awoke in the morning, Alice was sitting at the dressing table brushing her hair. Grace sat up, for a moment unsure of where she was in the unfamiliar room. Alice’s face looked pale and she was frowning until she saw Grace watching her.

  “Philip has gone out to find us something to eat,” she said. “I have found another frock for you. I expect we will be needed to help the wounded again.” She tried to smile but it was crooked. “We should get dressed too for I don’t know what is likely to happen next.”

  “Where have all these poor men come
from?” Grace asked, as she began to make herself ready. It was difficult, for she felt terribly stiff.

  “Philip has been speaking to some of them. They were attacked at Quatre Bras a place where four roads meet. The assault was unexpected, so many were hurt. Also, the Prussians have been fighting at somewhere called Ligny.”

  At that moment Philip returned, pulling a flagon and a couple of long loaves from under his coat.

  “This is all the food I could find,” he told them. “I’ve been lucky to get anything at all and to bring it back here without a fight.”

  “What’s going on outside?”

  “More men have been brought in from the fighting, but not as many as yesterday. The new arrivals were in the same battle, but took longer to reach here. Some of them are in poor shape. I have been talking to a Dr. Voiron and intend to go and help him again once I have eaten.”

  “We will come too,” Alice said.

  “Aren’t you too tired?”

  “Whatever you can do, I can do too, remember?” she smiled but her grin was strained and his only answer a kiss on her forehead.

  The three offered their assistance to the doctors and were soon fully occupied. Not all the visitors to Brussels did likewise. Grace occasionally noticed a spectator scuttling away hurriedly. She felt contemptuous of those females who could not bear the sight of men in pain, soldiers who had been fighting for their safety. The small park had been cleared and a trail of wagons rumbled down the roads that led to the coast. Pits had apparently been dug near one of the cemeteries and there were only a few bodies waiting to be collected. The day dragged on with only the occasional alarm which proved false. They saw fewer wounded and little of the comings and goings. Once Alice spotted Sir Charles in the distance, talking to a group of people and shaking his head. She was holding a bowl for a doctor who was probing a man’s arm for a bullet, so she remained where she was. When she looked again, Sir Charles had gone.

  Eventually, as the evening shadows fell, Grace was given leave to go home. She arrived back at the hotel and sat down for the first time since their hasty breakfast. When Philip and Alice entered, they were equally tired, cold and dirty. Philip opened a cupboard and took out some brandy which had been carefully hidden behind a pile of books.

  “Good, no one has found it yet,” he said, pouring out three drinks.

  It was at that moment that they heard a tapping at the door. Philip put down the bottle and went to open it. Benson was standing outside.

  Alice jumped to her feet. “Benson, what are you doing here? Has something happened to my husband?” she cried.

  “No, my lady, the master is well but he sent me here with this letter to you.” He handed her a sealed note. As Alice broke the seal, Benson gave Philip another one.

  “For you, my lord.”

  “Thank you.” Philip scanned the few words and suppressed an exclamation. Edward had written,

  Philip,

  There is almost certain to be a battle tomorrow. The lines are drawn up already and we can see the eagles of the French. Their numbers are great and they are shouting Vive l’Empereur! as he passes among them. We had a narrow escape yesterday when Bonaparte attacked at Quatre Bras. I doubt we shall be as lucky again. This is to authorise you to get my wife out of Brussels as soon as the guns begin to fire, if not before. Tell her in this I expect her to obey my wishes as she promised to do. Do not wait for me. If possible, I will join you in London. God bless all of you and keep you safe,

  Edward.

  Philip looked up to find Alice staring at him blankly. He went and put his arms around her.

  “Edward tells me we must leave Brussels,” she murmured in a small voice, “but I have to see him again. We never said goodbye properly at the ball. Can’t you take me out to visit the camp?”

  “He wouldn’t thank me for doing that. All the troops will be busy and you would not be welcomed. Write to him. Benson can give him your letter when he returns. Do it now. I don’t know how much time we have.”

  Philip sat her down at the writing desk and drew a sheet of paper towards her. Then he gestured to Benson and Grace to precede him out of the room. The corridor had been partly cleared but a few wounded soldiers remained. Philip led the others as far away as was possible in the cramped space.

  “Sir Edward writes that he isn’t certain of victory and doesn’t want us to be trapped here if the city is overrun. We are to leave as soon as the guns start firing.”

  Benson nodded. “The master is wise, my lord. There are tales of what the French do to women in the towns they conquer. We saw a little of it in Spain. Better to get the ladies away as soon as possible.”

  “What orders did he give you, Benson?”

  “To take the letters to you and the mistress and to bring back any replies. At the latest I must be in the camp by midnight.”

  “Tell him that I shall obey his instructions and will await him in London when he returns. Remain here until my sister finishes her letter.” He turned to Grace. “Go and fetch the bags you packed for each of us and put on warm clothes. The barge journey is unlikely to be either comfortable or quick. We can wait on board until we know who has won the battle.”

  Alice found it very difficult to write her letter, possibly the last one she would ever write to her beloved husband but it was finished eventually. Benson was on his way well before midnight carrying with him their good wishes. A restless few hours were spent trying to sleep, but nervousness and anxiety kept all three of them awake. Early the following morning, they rose, dressed and Philip discharged their debt to the hotel. Fortunately, none of the party had much in the way of chattels. What they wanted to keep was in their bags and the rest was set aside to be given to the poor. They left and were about halfway to the barges when Alice suddenly stopped.

  “Listen!” she exclaimed. “Can you hear it?”

  They stood still and so did others in the street. From the east, there was a low rumbling sound. Alice swung around to her brother.

  “Is it?”

  He nodded. “The guns have started to fire. It won’t be long now before the battle begins. Let’s go quickly.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  When they reached the Bassin des Barques, they found only a few boats still attached to the quays. Although they searched, Captain Janssen’s barge was not among them. Philip enquired of some of the other skippers, only to be told that Janssen had sailed early yesterday and would be miles away by now. Disappointed, although not completely surprised, Philip attempted to purchase a passage on one of the remaining barges. A few were undergoing repairs and the others proved reluctant to take passengers.

  “People cause problems, no matter who they are. It’s not worth it to me to lose my boat and cargo just to oblige you,” a man said.

  “What do we do now?” Grace asked, wearily, sitting down on a barrel with her valise at her feet. The rumbling had grown louder and she wondered what it must sound like to those who were on the battlefield.

  “Return to the town and I’ll try to find a coach or horses.”

  “Or we could walk further into the countryside.”

  “It’ll be stripped bare. Our people have been requisitioning horses and wagons. No doubt the French have done the same elsewhere. Anything worth keeping will be hidden away.”

  “Well, we can’t stay here!”

  “Why not?” Alice asked, speaking for the first time. “I never wanted to leave and now it seems there is no way out. I think we should find a lodging nearby and await the outcome.”

  “Edward wants you to leave Brussels and I don’t want either of you mixed up with French troops.”

  She rounded on him. “Do you really expect the Duke to be beaten? I don’t. I intend to be here when Edward returns. If he doesn’t…” She caught her breath and then continued rather breathlessly, “Nothing matters to me if that happens. Take Grace and leave, by all means. I’ll go to one of the convents and make myself useful until he arrives.”

  In
the end, they all stayed in Brussels, finding a room at a small and none too clean inn near the canal. Grace agreed with Alice, saying that she preferred to be within the city rather than wandering the roads, which would be dangerous without any transport. Philip reluctantly gave his consent to the plan, knowing that a journey to the coast on foot would take days, while troops roamed the countryside, He doubted the ability of one man to protect the two women with any degree of certainty.

  They went back into the city where a harassed Dr. Voiron once again assigned them to work with the wounded. At first it was easier, for these patients had already received some treatment and their needs were known. This situation however did not last. Grace was feeding one of them when Philip came hurrying to find her, his face grim.

  “Several groups of soldiers have galloped through the town, crying that the day is lost,” he told her. “I must get you and Alice away at once.”

  A grumble from the bed made Grace look down at the man who lay there.

  “What did you say?” she asked him.

  His voice was thin but he replied clearly enough, “Nonsense! There are always fools who flee at the slightest difficulty. Old Hooky won’t be beat. I’d put my money on it, if I had any left, that is.”

  Grace smiled and caught hold of his hand, giving it a squeeze. “There you are, Philip. This man’s opinion is as good as those others.” She turned back to her patient. “What do you think? Is it safe for my sister-in-law and I to stay here?”

  “No where’s safe, ma’am, not in a war, but Boney’s not a complete barbarian. He doesn’t make war on sick people or those looking after them. You’re better off here with us than anywhere else.”

  Grace smiled up at Philip, who raised his eyebrows, as the man continued,

  “This isn’t the first time I’ve been wounded or been captured by the French for that matter. One of their doctors sewed up my wounds or I would have been dead long ago. Made a good job of it he did.” The effort of speech exhausted him for he slumped back, his eyes closing. Grace set down the dish she was holding and rose to her feet. She took hold of Philip’s hand and drew him out of the large crowded room. The air in the courtyard had gone cold and smelt of rain. Grace pulled off the scarf she wore over her head and shook out her hair. She leaned against the wall.