Her Gallant Captain at Waterloo

by Diane Gaston

  Rhys raised his brows as he reached the table. ‘Am I intruding?’

  Grant waved an impatient hand. ‘Not at all. She’ll recover. Plenty of men to choose from.’ He directed Rhys to sit. The woman shrugged and walked away.

  Rhys looked around before lowering himself into the chair. ‘Where are Treadway and Strutton?’

  Grant took a sip of a large stein of beer. ‘They’ve departed. With female company.’

  ‘Whisky,’ Rhys called to the tavern maid. ‘Bring the bottle.’

  Grant’s eyes widened and he raised two fingers to the tavern maid. ‘Two glasses.’ He leaned his elbows on the table, giving Rhys a direct look. ‘So. What happened?’

  ‘What do you mean what happened?’ Rhys settled in his chair.

  ‘What happened that you are asking for whisky?’ Grant persisted.

  The tavern maid placed a whisky bottle and two glasses on the table. Rhys handed her some coins and poured a glassful.

  He drank half the glass at once but still did not speak.

  Grant poured a glassful for himself. He lowered his voice. ‘Should I not have left you two alone at the restaurant?’

  Rhys regarded his friend, who he knew would not press him further. ‘Maybe some day I will tell you the whole, but not tonight.’

  ‘I comprehend completely.’ Grant, experienced in being betrayed, lifted his glass. ‘Well, who knows? Maybe a French cannonball will hit us both in a few days’ time. Then none of this will mean anything at all.’

  * * *

  Helene woke early the next day, thinking of Rhys, as she had on and off throughout the night. That she’d slept at all was a surprise. He’d aroused a yearning in her, one that she thought she’d succeeded in burying. At the same time, he’d thrust her away.

  She felt unsettled, too, about her father. How could he have lied to her and been so cruel to Rhys? She was surprised Rhys had not cut her completely at that first sight of her in that tavern. How he must have despised her all these years.

  What was she to do now? Weeping into her pillow would do no good. She must merely put one foot in front of the other and do whatever needed doing in the moment.

  She pulled the bell rope for a maid to attend her. She poured water from the pitcher into the basin on the bureau and washed herself. By the time the maid arrived she had fixed her hair and dressed herself as far as she could without assistance. The girl helped her with her stays and tightened the laces on her dress.

  ‘Merci,’ Helene said, putting a coin in the maid’s hand.

  The girl beamed. ‘Merci beaucoup, mademoiselle.’

  Helene made her way to David’s room. He would not be out this early. He could at least have breakfast with her. She’d try to have a civil conversation with him. Her heart jumped at the idea that Rhys might appear in the dining room, as he had that first morning. She gave herself a mental shake. It would be better not to see him.

  She knocked on David’s door. ‘David? David? Wake up. It is Helene.’ There was no answer. She knocked again and called louder. ‘David!’

  Finally, she heard the shuffling of feet. She stepped back, expecting him to open the door.

  Instead David’s voice came from the other side of the closed door. ‘Go away, Helene.’

  She bent close to the door’s crack. ‘Please get dressed and have breakfast with me.’

  ‘Give me one good reason why I should.’ David’s voice was muffled by the door.

  ‘I need to talk to you,’ she implored. ‘It is important.’

  ‘I am not going back to England!’ he cried. ‘You waste your breath trying to convince me. Nothing will keep me from the Duchess of Richmond’s ball and nothing will keep me away from the battle!’

  But she needed to explain to him why she wanted him to come home with her. About him accepting his title and his responsibilities. Or about why he was running away from them.

  ‘You need to go home to Yarford,’ she said through the door. ‘You have responsibilities there.’

  ‘You go back, Helene!’ he retorted. ‘Nobody wants you here. It would be like you to miss a duke’s ball, because you need to make lavender water or something. And if you think you can make me escort you to the ball, you have another thing coming. I am invited for the whole evening and I’m not going to dance attendance on you!’

  She held her breath for a moment lest her temper burst. ‘Come to breakfast with me,’ she tried again. ‘We can discuss this.’

  ‘I don’t want to discuss it,’ he whined. ‘I want to sleep. You can bang at the door all you like. Yell loud enough to wake everyone on this hallway, but I won’t open the door and I won’t talk to you.’

  ‘David,’ she cried in exasperation.

  She lifted her fist to pound on the door but stopped herself. What was the use of making an even bigger scene? She was sure everyone on that hallway had already heard David’s petulant cries and her pleading with him. Coming to Brussels had been another of her mistakes. All she succeeded in doing here was create more pain.

  She spun on her heel and made her way to the hall where the hotel’s attending servant greeted her by name. ‘How are you, Lady Helene? And how is your manservant today?’

  So kind of him to remember and to ask about Wilson. ‘I have not seen him this morning, but he was a little better yesterday.’

  ‘I am glad to hear it,’ he responded.

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he’d seen Captain Landon that morning. She resisted the impulse. There was no reason for her to know anything about Rhys’s whereabouts. Still, as she walked to the dining room, she wondered if he would be there.

  But he was not. She chose a table in a corner where she might not be noticed. She ate her breakfast alone.

  As she finished, a wave of loneliness washed over her, but she shook it off, resolving to press on, no matter what. No matter how alone. She stood and walked out of the dining room.

  Chapter Ten

  Helene met Madame Desmet in the hall. ‘Madame Desmet. Good morning.’

  Madame Desmet was very stylishly dressed this morning. She’d obviously taken great care with her appearance.

  The older woman smiled. ‘I am here to visit Samuel. Have you seen him this morning? Do you know if he is improving?’ Her expression filled with concern.

  Helene shook her head. ‘I have not seen him yet. I’ll go up with you, if you do not mind? We may visit him together.’

  Madame Desmet looked abashed. ‘I do not mind. How could I? But, please, call me Louise. Desmet was my husband’s name.’

  ‘As you wish... Louise.’

  The day before, Madame Desmet—Louise—had left her house in a hurry with no more than her hat and shawl, but today she carried a large cloth bag hung over her arm.

  She lifted the bag. ‘I have brought some clean nightclothes for Samuel and a tin of biscuits I thought he might fancy. And some sewing. I might as well keep busy when he is sleeping.’

  ‘You will spend a lot of time with him, then?’ Helene said.

  Louise’s brows knitted. ‘I do hope you understand. I must spend as much time as I am able. I do not wish to miss a moment with him.’

  Helene’s heart warmed to her. ‘Stay as long as you like. It can only do him good.’

  She smiled again. ‘You understand how it is. How it is also with you and Captain Landon.’

  Helene frowned. ‘I fear matters are much more complicated between Captain Landon and me. We are not together, as Mrs Jacobs believes.’

  The look Louise returned to her was sceptical.

  When they reached Wilson’s room, Mrs Jacobs answered their knock with a cheery demeanour. ‘Both of you! Now will that not be a treat for our patient. Come in. Come in.’ She stepped aside. ‘We are just finishing breakfast.’

  Wilson, to Helene’s surprise, was seated in a cha
ir at a table with a teapot, cup and a bowl of porridge.

  His face beamed with pleasure, no doubt due to Louise’s arrival. ‘Louise!’ he cried joyfully.

  She rushed to his side. ‘Samuel! Look at you.’

  Mrs Jacobs laughed. ‘Oh, we’ve been washed and combed and bedclothes changed. And our appetite is better, as well.’

  Helene was so glad to hear it.

  Mrs Jacobs continued her report. ‘We had a fairly restful night. He coughs a great deal. I believe I shall stop at the apothecary and ask for something to ease the cough.’ She turned to Helene, a line of worry creasing her forehead. ‘I hope you do not mind if I leave again? I will return in no more than two hours, but I would greatly like to check on my dear husband.’

  Helene nodded. ‘Of course you may go.’

  Louise turned her head. ‘I will stay with Samuel. I plan to stay the whole day.’

  Mrs Jacobs laughed again. ‘I rather thought you would.’ The nurse walked about the room gathering her items.

  Helene would have been happy to sit with Wilson while Mrs Jacobs was away, like she had before. It would have given her a useful means of passing the time, but how could she spoil Wilson’s chance to be truly alone with his Louise?

  ‘I will go with you, Mrs Jacobs.’ She stepped towards Wilson and Louise. ‘Is there anything I might bring you? Anything you need?’

  Louise only had eyes for Wilson. ‘I cannot think of anything else I need.’

  Wilson noticed Helene then. ‘Lady Helene. You are here, as well.’

  ‘Only for a moment, Wilson.’ She smiled at him. ‘But I will check on you later. I am very happy to see you looking better.’

  ‘He is still quite weak.’ Mrs Jacobs had her hand on the door latch. ‘I will be back in two hours, I promise,’ she called to Louise.

  Louise did not take her eyes off Wilson. ‘I will tend him while you are gone.’

  The nurse laughed. ‘I wager you will!’

  Helene followed her out of the room and through the hallways.

  ‘And how is your Captain this morning?’ Mrs Jacobs asked.

  Helene sighed. She’d try once more to set the woman straight. ‘Mrs Jacobs, you are mistaken about Captain Landon and me. We grew up together. That is why he knows Wilson and is fond of him. But we do not have any attachment.’

  Mrs Jacobs gave her an even more sceptical look than Louise had earlier. ‘You cannot fool me, Lady Helene. I have eyes in my head.’

  Helene did not know precisely what the woman meant, but if she thought she saw loving glances between Helene and Rhys, her eyes must be covered with rose-coloured glasses.

  Helene changed the subject. ‘You are worried about your husband. Is he ill?’

  Mrs Jacobs sobered. ‘He is poorly, that is a fact. Otherwise I would not leave my post. Dear Hulbert. He had the grippe, not unlike Mr Wilson, and it has laid him flat even two weeks later. He cannot work so I am very grateful to have employment.’

  ‘What work does he do?’ she asked.

  ‘Hulbert?’ Mrs Jacobs smiled. ‘He is a wicker merchant. He’s earned nothing for a fortnight and it might take another fortnight for him to return to working.’

  Four weeks? Would Helene have to stay four weeks until Wilson was well enough to travel again? Rhys made it sound like the battle was coming in days, not weeks.

  ‘How difficult for you.’ Helene made a mental note to pay the woman very well.

  The nurse kept up her chatter until they reached the hall. Helene really had no reason to walk down to the hall, but no reason to return to her room either. Perhaps she would go in search of that glove shop which must be open by now.

  ‘Lady Helene,’ the hall servant called out to her. ‘I have something for you.’

  ‘For me?’ She crossed the floor to him.

  Mrs Jacobs waited, nearly bursting with curiosity.

  The servant handed her a card. ‘An invitation,’ he said helpfully. ‘To the ball.’

  ‘The ball?’ Mrs Jacobs’s eyes danced with excitement.

  ‘The event of the season,’ the hall servant said. ‘The Duchess of Richmond’s ball. Invitations also came for Captain Landon and Captain Grantwell.’

  She took the card. ‘Thank you, sir.’

  Mrs Jacobs stepped over to her. ‘The event of the season, he says. This is something, is it not? When is it?’

  Helene glanced at the card. ‘Tomorrow night.’

  ‘Tomorrow? Ooh!’ She clapped.

  Helene put the invitation in the pocket of her dress. ‘It does not matter. My brother refuses to escort me, so I could not attend even if I wished to.’

  At that moment Captain Grantwell descended the stairway. ‘Lady Helene,’ he called. ‘Good morning.’

  Her heart jumped a little, but only because this was Rhys’s friend, one person removed from being Rhys himself. ‘Good morning, sir.’

  He joined them.

  Helene introduced Mrs Jacobs to him.

  ‘I remember seeing you yesterday,’ the nurse said. ‘With Captain Landon. And I understand you are receiving an invitation to the ball as well as our mademoiselle here.’

  ‘Invitation? They have come?’ He looked pleased.

  The hall servant walked over and handed him two invitations. ‘Perhaps you will see that Captain Landon receives his?’

  ‘I will indeed.’ Grantwell turned to Helene. ‘Your brother came through after all.’

  ‘Yes, but she will not go to the ball she says,’ Mrs Jacobs piped up.

  Mrs Jacobs! Helene wanted to yell. Do be quiet.

  ‘Not go to the ball?’ Grantwell looked at her quizzically.

  Helene tried to give Mrs Jacobs a quelling glance. The woman was completely oblivious.

  ‘Her brother will not escort her,’ Mrs Jacobs explained.

  Grantwell frowned. ‘Then you must come with us.’

  ‘I cannot do that,’ she said quietly. ‘Rhys—’

  ‘Hang Rhys,’ he countered. ‘If he objects, I shall escort you myself.’

  ‘See?’ Mrs Jacobs chirped. ‘It is all settled.’

  ‘Would you care to dine first?’ Grantwell asked. ‘I could meet you in this hall at, say, seven o’clock. The ball starts at ten. We will have time to eat and time to dress for the ball after.’

  ‘Seven o’clock,’ Mrs Jacobs repeated. ‘For dinner. Excellent.’

  ‘Lady Helene?’ He waited for her answer.

  ‘Yes, I suppose that would do.’ Helene agreed simply to stop this discussion in the hall in the presence of Mrs Jacobs, the hall servant and anyone else passing by.

  ‘Excellent.’ Grantwell bowed. ‘Forgive me. I must beg your leave. Regimental business.’

  Helene curtsied. ‘Good day, Captain.’

  As he strode towards the door, Mrs Jacobs crossed her arms over her ample chest. ‘There. I told you all will turn to rights. And this is very well, too. It is bound to make Captain Landon jealous.’

  Helene thought her head would explode. ‘It will not matter to him, believe me, Mrs Jacobs.’

  The nurse gave her a very patient smile.

  ‘Besides,’ Helene said. ‘I shall have to send my regrets to Captain Grantwell. I cannot attend a ball. I have no dress.’

  Mrs Jacobs’s face fell, but she quickly recovered. ‘We will have to do something about that, will we not? Come by Mr Wilson’s room after I return. You, Louise and I will put our heads together.’

  ‘Very well.’ Helene sighed. She had planned to check on Wilson later in the day anyway. Perhaps then she could convince Mrs Jacobs that a ball gown could not be created in a day.

  * * *

  Helene asked Mrs Jacobs to direct her to a glove shop and the nurse was only too happy to walk her to the best glove shop where Helene purchased a pair of gloves to replace her damaged on
es and, on a whim, a lovely pair of opera-length gloves at a good price.

  Next to the glove shop was a shop displaying beautiful pieces of lace. Who could visit Belgium without at least looking in a lace shop?

  When she walked out, she’d purchased three new lace fichus, a lace reticule and a totally impractical lace shawl dyed a beautiful shade of gold. She had no use for it, but it was so beautiful she could not resist.

  They would be mementos of Brussels, she told herself. As if she could ever forget this place.

  She started back to the hotel carrying her two packages containing her purchases. The streets of Brussels around the Parc and the hotel felt more familiar now and she could fix them in her memory. More people were about, as well, and whenever she saw a tall man in a red coat her heart skipped a beat—until she saw the man was not Rhys. As she neared the hotel door, it opened and David burst forth in a towering hurry.

  Helene was quick enough to seize his arm. ‘David! Where are you going?’

  He grinned at her as if he’d not been beastly towards her earlier in the morning. ‘Can’t talk, Helene! I’m late. William and I are going to ride out and watch the regiments drilling.’

  She released him.

  David’s moods went up and down like a seesaw. He would never listen to her.

  But she refused to let David—or Rhys—ruin her day. She went up to her room and unwrapped her packages. She draped one of the fichus over her shoulders and sat back and admired it in the dressing table mirror.

  ‘Congratulations,’ Helene said aloud. ‘You indulged yourself.’ It was scant consolation.

  She rose and put her other new purchases away. The clock on the mantel struck twelve. Was it that late? She should go to Wilson’s room. Mrs Jacobs would have returned by now and she could settle the issue of the ball and the ball gown once and for all.

  On her way, though, she decided to visit the dining room to arrange for some tea and biscuits and fruit to be delivered to Wilson’s room. Was she hoping she’d run into Rhys? If so, she was disappointed, and she resisted the impulse to ask the hall servant if he’d seen him.

  Afterwards, as she approached Wilson’s door, she could hear Mrs Jacobs’s laughter through the doorway.