Louise

by Oliver, Marina

  She reached for his cravat, but he shook his head and stood up.

  'Just let me look at you,' he said softly as he stripped off his own clothing.

  Louise lay back against the pillows. When she had married Richard she had been eighteen, and shy, so they had always made love in darkness. Now she gloried in the fact that Rupert's gaze rested on her nakedness. If the sight of her body pleased him, she was content.

  She gasped when she saw the scar on Rupert's stomach.

  'That must have been painful,' she whispered. Oh, my love, how did it happen?'

  'Another piece of shrapnel, like the one that damaged my face,' he said. 'I was lucky my whole guts didn't spill out.'

  Louise shuddered. 'Oh, Rupert! It must have been so painful!'

  'No longer. I forget it most of the time, and you must too.'

  He sat down on the bed beside her, and when she reached for him he laughed, and held her arms away from him.

  'Patience my sweet. We have all night. I want to savour your loveliness.'

  Louise was lost in sensation, as he kissed her lips, then moved to kiss her breasts. She felt her nipples harden, and shivered with delighted anticipation as he gathered both breasts in his hands, kneading and fondling them. When he moved his hands to caress her stomach and hips she felt bereft, but soon the sense of loss was overtaken by even more delightful and powerful emotions, and she arched her body against his exploring hands and feverishly kissed the parts of his body she could reach.

  As he began to stroke her thighs she was one quivering mass of feeling, and gasped with relief when he lowered himself onto her.

  'Rupert! Oh, my darling! I love you so much!'

  Then all thought and power of speech left her as he entered her, and she clasped him to her, wanting the wonderful moment of total commitment to last for ever. It was like a bereavement when he withdrew and collapsed beside her. He drew her close, and pulled the covers over them.

  'Sleep, my darling. You need to rest.'

  She laughed, unsteadily. 'I need you.'

  What a fool she had been, she thought as she drifted into sleep, to have rejected such joy, which could have been hers months ago.

  *

  On the following day Rupert went back to headquarters. Louise swallowed her tears and waved him off. He would come to her as often as he could, he vowed, and she promised herself she would always be cheerful and not think about the coming battle.

  Wellington was busy securing the border with France. Deprived of his best troops he had to deal with mercenaries, inexperienced British who had never before faced an enemy, and potentially disaffected Belgian, Dutch and German troops. Many of the Netherlands' officers had served under Napoleon. King William had been unable to garrison the frontier, and only reluctantly accepted Wellington as Commander-in-Chief. Rupert and others on the Staff were kept busy riding along this line of frontier posts stretching to the sea, there to prevent a French flanking movement to get behind the allied troops. At the same time they had to try and keep in contact with the Prussians to the east.

  'One of Napoleon's tactics is to try and divide his opponents, and fight each one in turn, and the Prussians are being difficult,' Sir Arthur explained. While Louise and Rupert determinedly did not speak of army matters when they were able to be together for a few hours, the rest of the party had no such restraint.

  News of Napoleon's advance came through sporadically. It was unclear where exactly he was, but everyone knew he would be attacking Belgium, determined to regain a country he had counted as part of his empire for many years. His eastern borders were for afterwards, everyone assumed, even though it was thought they were less strongly guarded than the Belgian one.

  'We ought to be prepared to move to Ghent,' Sir Martin said one day as they sat to dinner. For once they were not attending a ball or going to the theatre. 'I hear that carriages and horses to pull them are in somewhat short supply.'

  'We have our own,' Emily said. 'Surely he won't penetrate as far as Brussels?'

  They all knew who 'he' was.

  'We cannot be sure of that. We must be prepared. Can you pack your clothes and jewels so that we can move at a moment's notice?'

  Lady Barlow shrugged. 'If you think it necessary, my dear, but I am not so pessimistic.'

  'It is prudence, not pessimism.'

  Louise listened. She had no desire to leave Brussels, and her fleeting contacts with Rupert, but having heard of the way in which victorious troops treated the conquered populace, she knew she would have to go. Rupert, when he next visited her, approved Sir Martin's preparations.

  'It will be less for me to worry about, my darling, if I can be sure you are safe,' he said.

  On the following day, while they were having breakfast, a bundle of letters came from England, and they devoured them. News from home was, Sir Martin complained, as unreliable as news about Napoleon's whereabouts.

  Lady Barlow was reading the first, and she gave a sudden whoop of excitement.

  'Oh, this is marvellous. Isobel writes that Matilda has been brought to bed with twins, a boy and a girl! That will no doubt keep her calm and occupied!'

  'Nothing will calm that chit!' Sir Martin said.

  'And I don't recall Emily being calm when Louise was a baby,' Joseph said, laughing. 'You never trusted the nanny, you were always going into the nursery, until the poor woman was driven distracted.'

  If she ever had Rupert's child, Louise thought, she would probably be the same. She wondered how Matilda was reacting to being a mother. Maybe, after they returned to England, she would see her. She sighed, and returned her attention to the gown she was planning to wear at the next big ball, to be given by the Duchess of Richmond in a few days. Most of the officers, including Rupert, would be there.

  *

  Louise blinked as she entered the Duchess's ballroom. Glittering chandeliers lit up the colourful scene. Silken drapes and a multitude of flowers provided a backcloth for the guests, but here the officers, many in their regimentals, outdid the ball gowns in splendour. Everyone of importance was present, from ambassadors to the debutante daughters of the aristocracy.

  Rupert came early and claimed Louise for the waltz. She firmly suppressed the thought that it might be the last time he held her in his arms, for rumours were already circulating that the army was to march the very next day.

  'There has been some sort of skirmish at Quatre Bras,' Rupert told her. 'I don't know the details, but we are all ready to move as soon as the Duke gives the word.'

  At the end of the dance Rupert led her over to a seat near one of the windows. A girl was sitting on the next seat, struggling to control her tears, as she watched a young officer striding from the ballroom.

  'I think it has begun,' Rupert said quietly. 'Look, there are several officers talking to the women. I suspect making their farewells.'

  Louise swallowed. 'Do – do you need to go now?'

  'Soon, my darling.'

  'But the Duke is over there, sitting and laughing on that sofa.' How, she thought, could he be organising an army in such a manner?

  'If you watch carefully, you'll see he summons someone, says a few words, and they depart.'

  It was true. The number of men in the ballroom had lessened. Many in regimentals had left, also others in formal evening dress. Then Louise saw someone enter and hand what looked like a letter to the Prince of Orange, who passed it to the Duke. Wellington, with a brief nod, slipped it into his pocket.

  Soon the company moved into the supper room, where Louise watched the Duke talking and laughing. Surely, she thought, there cannot be a great deal of danger if he remained here.

  The Duke, however, did not reappear after supper. Rupert was summoned, and clasped Louise in his arms before he went to receive his orders.

  'Have faith,' he whispered as he kissed her.

  Louise nodded, keeping back her tears so that his last sight of her would be of her smile.

  Others were leaving. The ball was coming to
a ragged end, though a few people tried to keep on dancing. Emily put her arm round Louise as she led her out to where their carriage waited. This silent sympathy broke Louise's composure, and she was sobbing as she was helped into the carriage. Would she ever see Rupert again? Was she destined to be made a widow for the second time?

  *

  Chapter 19

  When Rupert reached Wellington's headquarters at the inn in the small village of Waterloo, he heard that there was fierce fighting around Quatre Bras, a cross road site on the Charleroi road that gave easy access to Namur in the east and Nivelles to the west, even north towards Brussels. The Prince of Orange had been trying to hold the position with too few men, but more were coming in support.

  Rupert was eager to be amongst the first to attack Marshall Ney, but the Duke called him back. He was going himself to consult with Blücher. 'Come with me, then stay until there is definite news. I need fast, sensible couriers,' he said, 'and some of these officers that have been wished onto my staff cannot be depended on. I need to know what is happening at Ligny and I can't depend on what news I am receiving. And I know you speak German.'

  Rupert fretted at his inaction. Some couriers were sent back to Wellington, but the battle around Ligny swayed back and forth for several hours, and there was nothing conclusive to report. Positions were lost and regained. Blücher had been hurt when his horse fell on him, and was no longer in command. For a while no one had known where he was. Then, as dusk was falling, the Prussians began to retreat towards Wavre. Rupert had to return with the dire news. He was cautiously picking his way over the fields in the dark when there was the sound of a rifle. His horse stumbled, and fell, shot through the head. Rupert flung himself out of the saddle and discovered he was surrounded by a group of French skirmishers. There was no time even to pull out his pistol. Laughing, they bound his hands behind him with thin cord and forced him to walk before them. They were gloating, aware of their victory at Ligny, and predicting a swift advance towards Brussels.

  Deciding he might learn more if he pretended not to understand French, Rupert responded to all their questions in English, asking what they wanted. One of them tried Spanish, and Rupert shook his head. Then it was German, with the same response. They shrugged, saying how poor the English education must be, since this soldier in an officer's uniform was obviously not a peasant, and might have been educated at some good academy. They knew only that Napoleon would be pursuing the retreating Prussians.

  They were on foot, and going back towards the south east, as far as Rupert could determine from his brief glimpses of the stars when the clouds parted. They reached a rough encampment, said they had done enough for the day, and meant to eat supper and sleep. Rupert, his sword and pistol taken from him, was thrown down in the lee of a hedge, his legs bound together, and left to contemplate plans for escape while they sat round a fire and drank to the success of their comrades.

  The ground was uncomfortable. There were stones and other debris on which he was lying, but by rolling onto his side and feeling about he discovered what felt like a shard of glass, probably from a discarded wine bottle. It was difficult, with his wrists bound, but he was able to angle the glass so that a rough edge of it touched the thin cord which bound him. Slowly, and suppressing the gasps when the glass slipped and cut his flesh, Rupert sawed away. He hoped the troopers would be too drunk to check on their captive, and when he felt the last strands of the cord about to give way, he waited. Soon, he hoped, they would be asleep. They were carousing, singing drinking songs, and so confident of victory they were unlikely to set a sentry.

  He was correct. They eventually wrapped themselves into their cloaks, and soon were snoring. Quietly Rupert severed the last strands of the cord, and flexed his arms. They were tingling, and it was several minutes before he could use the broken glass to cut through the cord round his ankles. But soon he was free. He slid through a gap in the hedge and began to walk towards the north-west, guided by a few stars. He had no idea how far he was from the allied lines, but when dawn came would know his position better.

  *

  Louise was helping to roll bandages in one of the large mansions close to the Grand Place when she heard shouts outside. Glancing out of the window she saw several troopers riding fast through the Place. From their uniforms, which she had come to know during the past few weeks, she saw they were both Belgian and Brunswick troops, and most of them were very young.

  She ran outside, asking what had happened.

  'We thought we'd won,' an elderly Belgian told her. 'The news was all of our success. Now these lads say all is lost.'

  She didn't want to believe it, but soon afterwards several wagons came in. They had been on their way to the south, but they had turned back and now they came into Brussels, some bringing the camp followers who had been following the army. Many of these were the wives of the soldiers, others the riff raff hoping to scavenge from the dead. People began to panic, and those who had been ready to flee began to try and leave the city.

  'I can hear gunfire,' a young boy said as he raced past Louise.

  He was not the only one making for the city ramparts. Louise, desperate for news, followed. The guns grew silent as night fell, and Louise went slowly back home. On the way she met an officer she knew, a Major Hamilton.

  'What news?' she asked.

  'Oh, we won,' he said cheerfully. 'Even though the Brunswickers fled. Their Duke was killed trying to prevent the rout. And our Duke was almost captured in the confusion they left behind. But nothing can stop Wellington. He escaped by leaping over a line of Gordon Highlanders. I wish I had a horse like Copenhagen! No other could have done it!'

  He had no news of Rupert, but Louise hoped this was encouraging and went back to rolling bandages.

  *

  Wellington's forces had captured Quatre Bras. As more of his troops had arrived Ney had finally been outnumbered and no reinforcements had joined him. With the Prussians in retreat, though, the position was untenable, Napoleon's forces could come between them and cut him off from the Prussians.

  'The Prussians are retreating towards Wavre,' Wellington was told by a late courier.

  The Duke nodded. That was good news, it meant they would still be within reach, able to come to his assistance. He had feared they might take the more easterly road which would start them on their way home.

  In Brussels the first of the wounded were being carried in. Some came on carts, some were able to walk, others had been thrown over a horse's back. Louise helped Sir Arthur by cleaning the wounds, the sabre cuts and the grazes caused by spent bullets.

  'I won't sleep,' she said when he tried to send her home.

  At first he said she was not to try and deal with the more severe wounds, the missing fingers, even hands, the bullets lodged in flesh, and the broken arms and legs, but there was so much to do he was grateful to be relieved of easy tasks so that he could deal with the more urgent and serious wounds.

  The preparations they had made to put the wounded into houses was welcome. The men were often shivering from shock, rather than the cold, and needed warmth and the soup that had been simmering on fires ever since it was known battle had been joined.

  'This is just the start,' Sir Arthur said. 'Perhaps, now people see the reality, we can find more help. We need far more bandages, blankets, beds.'

  'I'll go round again in the morning,' Louise promised. 'I'll beg sheets and other linen.'

  'You'll need to rest. Why not go home and sleep for a few hours?'

  'I couldn't. And those who went from the ball straight to the fighting would have had no sleep last night. Where will they sleep tonight?'

  'On the field, most of them.'

  Even this was denied them, they heard later, as Wellington ordered the retreat. News came in all the following day.

  'But they won, they captured the cross roads, so why are they giving it up now?' Lady Barlow asked when Louise went to have breakfast and lie down for an hour.

  'I don't k
now, but I heard one of the soldiers say that Wellington was always at his best when he was retreating.'

  'It seems an odd way to conduct a battle!'

  'Rupert said he had been reconnoitring the ground, and had mentioned he preferred to make a stand near the Forest of Soignes. There are apparently ridges there which are important.'

  Emily shrugged. 'Well, we will no doubt soon discover whether we are to be victorious or overrun by French soldiers. Now, what can I do today?'

  *

  It was well after daylight before Rupert, footsore and weary, having been cautiously moving to the north of the Namur road, found a loose horse, complete with saddle and bridle, grazing. There was no one nearby to claim it, and he was a sturdy beast, far better than the ones the French had after the years of warfare had taken their toll of horseflesh as well as men. He came up to Rupert without fear, and the Earl thankfully mounted. Relaxing as he neared the allied lines, he reached the village of Genappe three miles to the north of Quatre Bras, and discovered the retreat was about to begin. Other couriers had been more fortunate than he, and relayed the news of the Prussians' retreat. The village street was narrow, and delayed the progress. The ground about was already sodden, too wet to let the heavy guns pass, and soon after midday there was a loud clap of thunder and the rain began to pour down, making even more of a quagmire of the fields. Only over the hard packed road was it possible to move.

  When he confessed his brief capture, the other officers laughed and jeered at him. The Duke merely shrugged. He was far too busy making preparations for the stand they would be making on the following day to do more. Rupert, exhausted after two nights without more than a few short snatches of sleep, found space in one of the small cottages in Waterloo village where some fellow officers had taken shelter. It was on the floor in the single small kitchen, and he had only his great coat to wrap round him, but there was a fire and he and the others gently steamed as their clothes dried. He pitied the poor devils who had no shelter and had to try and sleep in the mud and under the torrential rain. They would not only be cold and wet, they would be hungry, as the supply wagons had not arrived.