Web of Love

Chapter 6

ELLEN HAD NOT FLINCHED FROM THE HEIGHTENED preparations for war that she had seen happening around her. She had given in to her fear during that one evening at home with her husband, but she would not do so again. Besides, she had found from past experience that the closer a pitched battle drew, the calmer she became. It was as if the inevitability of it all finally convinced her that anxiety was a pointless luxury.

They were walking in the park beside the lake. She had met the captain there after he had finished duty for the day. Jennifer and Lady Anne Drummond, Lord Eden and Lieutenant Penworth were watching the swans on the water.

“Jennifer has taken it well, hasn’t she?” Captain Simpson said. “I expected that there would be many more tears than there actually have been.”

“I think she was consoled when she knew that Lady Anne and several of her other friends are also going home,” Ellen said. “And I think she is a little frightened, Charlie. She is very young, after all.”

“I don’t know how to thank Lord Amberley enough,” he said. “We scarce know him apart from our connection with Eden. It was exceedingly kind of him to agree to take Jennifer home to England with his own family.”

“I think that has helped Jennifer too,” Ellen said. “The prospect of being able to help the countess and her nurse with those children is very appealing. She adores the baby.”

“I don’t suppose I can persuade you to change your mind and go too?” he asked tentatively.

“Absolutely not!” Ellen smiled at him. “Save your breath, Charlie.”

“Well,” he said, “I would not be doing my duty as your husband if I didn’t try, lass, but you know I would be quite lost if you went. You see how selfish I am?”

“Then thank heaven for selfishness,” she said fervently, and they both laughed.

“Ellen,” he said, glancing ahead to make sure that the other four were out of earshot, “we must talk. Perhaps I should wait until we are quite alone together, but I have more courage in public like this.”

“The usual talk?” she asked, keeping her tone light.

“Yes, and a little more,” he said.

“You have provided for me and for Jennifer,” she said. “If anything happens to you, I am to go to your sister in London and visit your solicitor or wait for him to call on me there. I understand, Charlie. But I do not need to, for you will be here afterward and we will travel to England together.”

“Yes,” he said, patting her hand. “But I have been thinking, Ellen. It never seemed important before, with Jennifer at school. But she is a young lady now and needs to be provided for as well as possible. It’s time I forgot my pride. If you are alone-afterward-I want you to communicate with my father. Will you? Dorothy will help you.”

“Oh, Charlie, I could not!” Ellen looked at her husband in dismay. “He has had nothing to do with you all these years. He has not cared about you or about Jennifer.”

“He is her grandfather,” he said gently. “And your father-in-law. He will not turn his back on you if you appeal to him. We have both been too stubborn. Neither of us willing to make the first move to the other.”

“Well,” she said with determined cheerfulness, “you can go and see him yourself when we return to London, Charlie.”

“Please, sweetheart?”

She looked ahead along the path. “For Jennifer?” she said. “Very well, then. You have my promise.”

“Thank you,” he said, squeezing her hand. “He is not an ogre, you know. We had a good relationship when I was a boy. I had a happy childhood. But he expected a great deal of me since I was the elder son. Things were strained when I joined the army instead of going to university as he wished-can you imagine me in university, lass? But the break didn’t come until I married Jennifer’s mother.”

He had never mentioned her before. Ellen continued to stare along the path ahead of her.

“She was a pretty little thing,” he said. “A foolish unhappy girl when I met her. I wouldn’t mention this, Ellen, except that I must. For when you talk to my father and my brother-if you ever talk to them-they may try to tell you that Jennifer is not mine. Her mother was a dancer, you see, but she could not make a living from her dancing alone. She was not a bad girl, just a girl who needed to eat to live. She was not with anyone but me after I married her, and Jennifer was born a little more than nine months after that. She is mine, Ellen. Even if she were not, I would love her all the same, because she cannot help her birth, can she? But she is mine. She should be acknowledged by my father.”

“I will see that she is.” Ellen did not know how she forced the words beyond the lump in her throat. “Is that why you loved me, Charlie? Because I could not help my birth?”

He laughed and patted her hand again. “My heart was touched by a pretty, rather grubby little girl crying over a dusty hairbrush,” he said. “But she grew up to be the treasure of my life. The love of my life. That is what you are to me, my lass. It doesn’t matter who you are. You are not letting those tabbies bother you, are you?”

She shook her head. “No,” she said. “I lived through all the pain of that situation years ago. A little spite now has no power whatsoever to wound me. Oh, heavens, no. You are not to think it. I have you and Jennifer and all our friends. I am a very happy person. I have heaven on earth, Charlie.”

“You will do that for me, then?” he asked. “For Jennifer? I wish I could do more for you, Ellen. I wish I had a million pounds to leave you. I wish I could have-”

“To have known you and been your wife has been more to me than a million pounds and everything else in the world,” she said quickly. “And to be your wife for the rest of my life is all I could possibly wish for-a fortune beyond price, Charlie. Hush now or you will see me cry again. And you hate to see me cry, and I have promised myself not to. Tell me something. Tell me something funny that has happened in the last week. You are always so full of stories.”

“Hastings blew a hole in Walker’s cap when he was cleaning his gun a few mornings ago,” he said. “Did I tell you about it? Fortunately, Walker’s head was not inside the cap at the time. But I think Hastings might have wished it had been after Walker had finished with him. And then Eden started in on him-a few choice words from him can reduce even the most hardened soldier to jelly. Poor Hastings was almost in tears.”

“But how fortunate that no one was hurt,” Ellen said. “The poor man would never have lived with himself afterward, would he?”

“Let’s go back to the lake,” he said, “and find out what is amusing those four so much.”

ALTHOUGH THE RUMORS and false alarms and panics became more and more numerous as June went on, and although the army and the artillery continued to pour into Belgium, and although even the most hardened cynics admitted that there must be some truth to at least some of the rumors, surprisingly few civilians left Brussels for the safer shores of England. It was as if they refused to believe that danger could ever seriously threaten them, the British, who had always been protected by their own shores. Or as if the Duke of Wellington had acquired in their eyes the stature of an invincible god.

Although the Earl of Amberley did not leave for Antwerp with his family, his servants, and Miss Jennifer Simpson until Monday, June 12, there were no delays or impediments to their journey, as there surely would have been had they waited just a few days longer.

Madeline, who had remained adamant in her decision to stay in Brussels as long as her twin was there, had arranged to move in with her friend, Lady Andrea Potts, who was quite as intrepid as she was herself and would tell those French a thing or two, she declared in her loud, rather masculine voice, if they dared set foot in Brussels and tried to do any looting in Colonel Lord Potts’s home. Lord Eden himself was to move into an officers’ billet with Captain Norton.

Christopher Raine, Viscount Cleeves, seemed blissfully unaware of the preparations for departure going on around him the day before they left, or of the heightened emotional tensions in his father’s drawing room as Lord Eden prepared to remove himself to his new billet. The boy was crawling about among chair legs and table legs, quietly intent on a private game. He was clucking his tongue to represent the sound of horses’ hooves.

“Well, old pal,” Lord Eden said, “are you going to shake hands with your uncle?”

“Old pal,” the child said, coming to his feet, his game and his horses abandoned for the moment. He put his hand in his uncle’s large one. “Big ship.”

Lord Eden stooped down on his haunches. “You are going in a big ship,” he said. “Tomorrow, you lucky lad. Do you have a hug and kiss for Uncle Dom?”

The child put two chubby arms around his neck and squeezed tightly, puckered his mouth, and kissed Lord Eden wetly on the lips. “Old pal,” he said, and spread his arms to begin a new game. He was perhaps a ship in full sail.

Lady Caroline Raine was lying in her father’s arms, staring unblinkingly into his face, although occasionally her eyelids drooped. Having been fed a half-hour before, she was patiently awaiting sleep.

“A smile for Uncle Dom?” Lord Eden asked, taking her tiny fingers on one of his. But though she clutched it and shifted her eyes to his face, she remained solemn. “No? Well, no matter. The young bucks are going to be lined up at Papa’s door sixteen years or so from now just for a glance from those eyes, little beauty.” He bent and kissed her forehead.

A moment after he had turned away to speak to the countess, the baby looked back to her father and favored him with one of her rare, brief, and total smiles.

“Wicked little princess,” he murmured.

Lord Eden had both of his sister-in-law’s hands in his. “Thank you for coming, Alexandra,” he said. “I cannot tell you what it has meant to have my family close to me. Have a safe journey home and give my love to Mama and Aunt Viola and Uncle William. And to Anna, of course. She is having a successful Season, I would wager. I will see you all again almost before we know it.”

“Yes.” She smiled. “Your mother will be so very happy to see you again, Dominic. But she just could not come, you know. She would rather worry in private. Take care of yourself.”

They were in each other’s arms suddenly, their eyes tightly closed.

“Dominic,” she said, “we love you so very, very much.”

“I’ll remind you of that when I come home,” he said, “and demand all sorts of favors as proof.” He lifted his head and grinned down at her. “And why did you choose Edmund rather than me if you love me so very, very much? I offered for you too, if you remember.”

“Oh,” she said, flushing, “because I love him so very, very, very much, I suppose.” She turned to take the almost-sleeping baby from her husband.

Lord Amberley got straight to his feet and took his brother unashamedly into his arms. They hugged each other wordlessly for some time. There was so much and so little to say.

“I am proud of you, Dominic. You know that,” Lord Amberley said.

“You will tell Mama…? You will tell her what needs to be said?” Lord Eden said.

“Of course,” his brother said. “She is proud of you too, you know, and always will be, no matter what.”

“Yes.” Lord Eden released himself from his brother’s embrace and grinned. “It is as well I take my leave now. You will have enough to do tomorrow just taking yourselves off with all your baggage and the children. And Miss Simpson. Thank you for taking her with you, Edmund.”

His brother shrugged. “She is a pleasant young lady,” he said. “And anything for you, Dominic, as you know. She is important to you?”

Lord Eden looked guarded. “She is Charlie Simpson’s daughter,” he said.

Lord Amberley chuckled. “There is no pinning you down, is there, Dominic?” he said. “But don’t worry. Alex and I will take good care of her and deliver her safe and sound to her aunt. On your way, then. Nothing can be gained from a prolonged parting, can it?”

Lord Eden turned to his twin, who had sat in stony silence throughout the previous scene. “See me to the door, Mad?” he said.

She rose and preceded him from the room.

“You will not reconsider?” he asked when the door was closed behind him. “No, of course you won’t. You have a splendid courage, Mad, and I honor you for it. I will come to see you every day, shall I?”

“If you don’t,” she said, “I shall come and find you out.”

“Don’t do that!” he said. “You will be all right with Lady Andrea? She has always reminded me of a horse, I must say.”

“I have always been fond of horses,” she said. “Dom, you will come to me before you have to go?”

He did not misunderstand the meaning of her vague words. “If there is any chance,” he said, “I will come to you, Mad. But don’t hate me for the rest of your life if I don’t. There may not be time.”

“I love you,” she said, putting her arms up around his neck despite the presence of a footman who was waiting to open the door into the street for Lord Eden. “If you don’t have time to come, that is all I want you to know and take with you. I love you.”

“I know that, you goose,” he said, hugging her briefly but hard. “I am just a little fond of you too, if you would believe it.” He grinned at her and was gone.

Madeline resisted the urge to throw something at his retreating back only because there was nothing within her reach to throw. She sighed and turned back to the drawing room.

LORD EDEN CALLED at Captain Simpson’s rooms on the Rue de la Montagne that same evening, though he was not sure that they were to be at home. He might have been sure before the arrival of Miss Simpson, since Charlie and his wife far preferred to sit at home together in the evenings than to seek out some entertainment. But things had changed, of course, with the arrival of that young lady.

He wanted to take his leave of her. And he wanted it done that day rather than wait until early the following morning before she left with Edmund and Alexandra. He wanted it all over with. He wanted them gone. And how could he admit as much even to himself without sounding as if he were lacking in natural affections?

Lord Eden had always found leave-takings painful. He would have liked to walk out of Edmund’s house that afternoon without saying a word to anyone. He would like to avoid this farewell to Miss Simpson. Saying good-bye was difficult at any time. Saying it when one knew that it might well be forever was grueling beyond words.

He wanted to be free of all ties of affection. He wanted to be able to concentrate his mind and his emotions on what was coming. He wished Madeline had decided to go home too. He did not want her there in Brussels, making a constant claim on his emotional energy. And how ungrateful that sounded when she was risking her very life just so that she might stay close to him. She would never understand if he tried to explain to her. She would think that he did not care for her. And she would start hurling things at his head and yelling unladylike imprecations, and otherwise showing him that she was deeply hurt.

It was at times like this that he was glad that he was not married or even deeply attached to one woman. For he had found from past experience that before a major battle he must blank from his mind all the people who were most dear to him. He must live as if they did not exist. The men under him must become his family, the only persons for whose safety and welfare he had any concern. His commanding officers must become the only persons who had any claim on his loyalty and obedience and trust.

He did not envy Charlie at such times. Mrs. Simpson was always with him. How would it be possible to take one’s leave of one’s wife and go immediately into battle? How would it be possible to concentrate on the task at hand when one knew her to be very close and like to get hurt if the tide of battle went against one’s own army? He shuddered.

He had watched them once, when they had come out of Charlie’s tent with perhaps one minute in which to say their farewells. They had clung wordlessly together, the faces of both pale and totally without expression, so that he had turned away from the sight, more pained than embarrassed that he had been the unwitting witness to such an embrace between husband and wife. And it had taken Charlie a good ten minutes to come out of his stupor and become his usual cheerful, determined, even reckless self as he rushed into battle.

The three of them were at home when Lord Eden arrived at his friend’s house. But he did not stay long. Conversation was labored. All four of them were fully aware that there was so little time left in which to talk. And how could one talk meaningfully when constrained to do so? He took tea with them and rose to leave. He held out a hand to Jennifer and smiled at her.

“I will wish you bon voyage, Miss Simpson,” he said, “and hope that you will not be seasick on the return journey.”

Charlie drew his wife into an adjoining room, he noticed, leaving the door open between.

“I am sure I shall not,” she said, “now that I am a seasoned traveler.” She placed her hand in his.

“I am glad you came,” he said. “I have been happy to make your acquaintance.”

“And I yours,” she said. “I hope this horrid war comes to nothing after all.”

He smiled. “There are many soldiers wishing differently,” he said. “There are many wanting just one more chance to score a big victory against Bonaparte.”

“And you?” she said. “Are you eager for battle?”

How could he explain to her that it was a necessity of his nature to fight for his country and all it stood for, with his life if need be? That there was almost an exhilaration now, a need to assert what he believed in?

“Not for the killing,” he said. “But I want to be part of this fight against tyranny.”

“Well, then,” she said. “Good-bye, my lord. I will pray that you will be kept safe.”

“Will you?” he said. “And may I call on you when I return to England?”

She flushed as she looked up at him. “If you wish,” she said. “I would like that.”

He lifted her hand, which still lay in his, and kissed it. “I do wish it,” he said. “I am glad you are to travel with my brother. I will know that you are safe.”

“He is very kind,” she said, “and her ladyship. I like them.”

“Good-bye, then,” he said. And he squeezed her hand until he was aware of her wincing. He released it immediately.

Her eyes filled with tears. “Please keep yourself safe,” she said. “Please!” And she lifted both hands and placed her fingertips lightly against his cheeks for a brief moment. She looked over her shoulder rather jerkily. “Papa,” she called. “Papa, Lord Eden wishes to say good night to you.” And she was gone from the room almost before Charlie was back in it.

Damnation to all leave-taking, Lord Eden was thinking a few minutes later as he strode down the street in the direction of his new billet. Now what had he done? Had he raised expectations? Was he now honor-bound to make her an offer when he returned to England? And did he want to? He was not at all sure. And he did not want to be plagued by such thoughts, such problems, such doubts. He wanted to be free of all emotion.

Devil take it. He had only just stopped himself from scooping her into his arms and pouring out his love for her and his desire to keep her safe from anxiety for the rest of her life. Would he never learn? Did he love her?

He did not know and did not want to know at that particular moment. He would not think of it. How much longer before they were finally engaged against the French? A week? Two? It could not be soon enough for him. He was ready. He was restless. He needed to get at it, this great battle that he had decided would be his last in one way or another. Time enough afterward to think about love. Not now!

He was glad to find his friend at home in the rather sparsely furnished and very masculine rooms that were now his new home too. Captain Norton’s boots, none too clean, were crossed at the ankles on the table before him. His hands were clasped behind his head as he contemplated a corner of the ceiling. There were a half-empty bottle of cognac and a glass on the table.

“Old Picton is due to arrive in Brussels any day,” Lord Eden said, flinging his hat onto a chair that was already overloaded with discarded clothes. “Newly appointed commander of the Fifth, in case you had forgotten, Norton my lad. You had better not thrust those boots into his face the way they look now if you know what is good for you.”

“Why polish them before it is absolutely necessary to do so?” his friend asked cheerfully, a slight slur to his speech. “Find a glass, Eden, and pour yourself some cognac. Hate to drink alone. There should be one underneath all those papers on the chair. Letters from m’mother and the girls. They all write books instead of letters. I must read them sometime. Remind me.”

Lord Eden found a glass, carefully avoided inspecting it too closely for cleanliness, settled at the table, his own highly polished boots joining those of his friend, and reached for the bottle.

ON WEDNESDAY, JUNE 14, the rumor began to circulate that the French army was concentrated about Mauberge to the south and had even crossed the frontier into Belgium. Word had it that Bonaparte himself was at its head. If it was true, people said, old Boney had done it again. He had taken his fellow generals of Europe by surprise.

It was ridiculous to say such a thing, of course, when the whole spring had been taken up with nothing else but preparations for just such an eventuality. But still, people said, when every day brought a dozen rumors, truth took one rather unawares. The duke, of course, had his spies and would not be so dependent upon rumor as almost everyone else. But the duke had really expected that the attack would come from the west and the north, had he not? That was where he would attack if he were Bonaparte. He would try to cut off the allied army from the channel coast.

But then, Bonaparte could never be relied upon to behave with predictability and good sense. That was the very fiendishness and brilliance of the man, depending upon whether one feared or admired him more. Those people in Brussels in June 1815 tended to fear him.

And of course, no one knew for certain that this rumor was true, except perhaps the duke himself, and everyone knew how tight-lipped he could be. The more he smiled and looked relaxed, the more truth there was likely to be in what they had all heard. And the duke was looking very relaxed these days. There were those who began nervously to pack their belongings and choose their route to the coast, either to Ostend or to Antwerp.

At three o’clock in the afternoon of June 15, word reached the Prince of Orange as he sat at dinner with the Duke of Wellington that the Second Prussian Brigade of General Ziethen’s First Corps had been attacked by the French army during the early morning and that the attack was being directed on Charleroi.

At four o’clock the duke received a dispatch from General Ziethen himself to say that Thuin had been captured. But Wellington was reluctant to act too hastily. Although he did not doubt the truth of either piece of news, he was not sure that the attacks were not merely a ruse to draw off the major portion of his army to the south while Bonaparte himself came along the expected westerly route of attack.

The duke made quiet plans to send his troops into action while waiting, patiently or impatiently-who could tell which with the duke?-for more definite word from Grant, his intelligence officer at Mons.

How did word of these matters leak out into the streets and salons of Brussels? Who knew? But leak out it did, causing excitement, exhilaration, despair, panic, just about every extreme emotion of which man is capable. On the whole, the troops hoped it was all true and that they would see action before another day had passed. The period of waiting was telling on taut nerves.

Most of the women felt despair. Some clung tearfully to their menfolk. Some demanded to be taken from the scene of the danger immediately. Some, especially those who had had experience with army life, began busily and quietly to prepare and roll bandages, bought at chemists’ shops or torn from sheets and shirts. Some continued with their lives as if nothing unusual were happening. And perhaps nothing was. The spring had been full of such false alerts.

Plans proceeded unchecked for the grand ball to be held that evening at the Duchess of Richmond’s house on the Rue de la Blanchisserie. Everyone who had any claim to gentility had been invited. And it was said that the Duke of Wellington and all his personal staff had every intention of attending even if the French were already in Belgium and part of the Prussian army put to rout.

Ellen and Captain Simpson decided not to go to the ball, though they had been invited and had considered going. They sat at home hand in hand until he put his arm about her shoulders and drew her closer. And they talked about any piece of nonsense they could lay their minds to.

Charlie was eager to be on his way, Ellen knew, as he always was at such times. And she must sit with him, quietly cheerful, doing and saying nothing that might distract him from the concentration he was beginning to build inside himself for what was to come. She knew and she understood that he grew away from her at such times. He was as affectionate, as loving. But he always talked to her of what he had done to provide for her in the event of his death-though the possibility was never expressed baldly in words like that-several days before there was any real chance of active service. Never, except under the severest surprise attack, at the last moment.

Before seven o’clock the duke had ordered the Second and Fifth divisions to gather at Ath in readiness to move at a moment’s notice. Most of the officers remained in Brussels, and many of them intended to go to the ball. But the time had definitely come. There would be no more waiting around.

It was almost a relief. Ellen rested her head against her husband’s shoulder and closed her eyes. They lapsed into silence. Neither made any move to go to bed, though the hour was late. They would not make love. The time for such intimacy was past, even if it had not been the wrong time of the month for Ellen. They would wait. Charlie would be called before morning came. Better to be up and ready. Her arm stole around his waist, and he kissed her forehead and patted her shoulder.

They both rose to their feet quite calmly when Lord Eden’s knock sounded at the door. They had expected it. The moment had come.