'Who on earth was that vulgar creature?' Sophia demanded as soon as she and Joanna had left the shop.
'Just – just someone who lived in Leeds,' Joanna said. 'Well,' she added, recovering her voice and suddenly feeling lighthearted, 'thank goodness her dear Elias is not planning to live in Yorkshire!'
*
Chapter 15
The following morning Joanna and Brigid visited Miss Benson at the school in Kensington. She greeted them warmly, congratulated Joanna on her marriage after commiserating about her father's death. Then she asked Brigid how she enjoyed being a governess to just two pupils rather than a class of ten girls or more.
'The twins are delightful, if somewhat lively, and it is a pleasant bonus being with Joanna again.'
Miss Benson laughed. 'By lively do you mean naughty?'
'They mind me,' Brigid said. 'At first they were somewhat reluctant to accept Joanna, but after she and Amelia were kidnapped matters improved, and Amelia now adores her step-mother.'
'Kidnapped? What is this?'
Brigid glanced at Joanna.
'Oh dear, should I not have said?'
Joanna shook her head. 'It's simply we do not wish to give other rogues the same idea.'
She explained what had happened, and why, and Miss Benson exclaimed at the wickedness of it, then promised she would not tell anyone else.
'It was a plot by the governess you dismissed?'
'Yes, and a man who had, by cheating my father, caused his death. She wanted revenge for being dismissed.'
'After she had done her best to poison the twins' minds against you,' Brigid added.
'How did she persuade this other man to join with her? Surely, if he was a card sharp such violence was not his preferred method of crime?'
'He had been caught and branded on the cheek by some men he had cheated, and he chose to accept her theory it had been done by my husband.'
They went on to discuss the affairs of the school, and hear about pupils who had been there with them.
'Does Amelia want to go away to school?' Miss Benson asked. 'Her brother will no doubt be going to Eton soon, and she will miss him if they are close.'
Brigid chuckled. 'Yes, she begins to wish it. She even plotted to dress as a boy and accompany him to Eton, until I asked her how she intended to pay the fees, for her papa certainly would not.'
Miss Benson's lips twitched. 'She sounds an enterprising child. Bring her to see round the school one day. I am not asking for business,' she added, 'I have a waiting list. But it would allow her to see the reality.'
'Thank you. That would be helpful.'
'If she were sent to school you would no longer have a position,' Miss Benson said.
'I am sure Lady Childe would give me an excellent reference!'
Joanna laughed. 'Indeed I would, though I do not wish to lose you.'
'In a few years I might even come back to teach your own children,' Brigid said.
'By then you will no doubt be married with children of your own,' Joanna retorted, and said they must be leaving. 'Sir Kenelm may have had more news from Brussels.'
'And you will want to hear it, as we all do. It has been charming to see you both, and do come again before you leave London.'
*
There was no more news until Sophia came in the afternoon of the following day. She found Sir Kenelm at home, having just returned from White's where he had been hoping to glean information.
'I have spoken to a woman who left Brussels only yesterday morning. She said the Prussians had been defeated and the French had pushed back Wellington's army almost to the gates of Brussels. There were already deserters coming back, and a few wounded.'
Joanna paled, then told herself to have faith. 'Wellington always knew when to retreat,' she said quietly. 'He used to say he preferred to consolidate his defence rather than rush headlong into battle. And many of his battles have been won after strategic retreats.'
'In any case, can one believe what a frightened woman merely speculates?' asked Sir Kenelm, stretching out a hand to clasp one of Joanna's. She was trembling, but managed to smile her thanks. 'As for the deserters, I hear the troops under Slender Billy are a ragged bunch culled from the streets. I've no doubt a few of them are showing reluctance.'
'We will have more reliable, official dispatches soon, no doubt,' Joanna said.
'I do hope so. Oh, Kenelm, has Joanna told you about that odd neighbour of yours we met yesterday?' Sophia asked.
'What odd neighbour?'
'She said she used to live in Leeds. A Mrs Peabody, though as she has just married you would not recognise the name. A vulgar woman, a brassy blonde, who undoubtedly dyes her hair, and wears far too many diamonds. She was too anxious to inform us she had married a wealthy Nabob. Joanna, did you see the milliner's face when she left without making a purchase. I suspicion she came into the shop only to tell you about her marriage.'
Sir Kenelm looked at Joanna somewhat suspiciously, but she was preoccupied straightening out one of the flounces on her morning dress.
'Possibly. Do you mean to go to the Westerings' rout?' Joanna asked.
'Of course. We will see you there. If you hear any reliable news, Kenelm, do please send round to tell me.'
She departed, and Sir Kenelm came back into the drawing room after seeing her out to her carriage. Joanna had picked up some embroidery, and was sitting with a needle in one hand and a new strand of silk in the other, staring out of the window.
'Can I thread the needle for you, my dear?' he asked, and she gave a sudden start.
'No, thank you. I was wondering whether the woman Sophia spoke to had the truth.'
'There is nothing we can do about it. But who was this woman you met, who lived in Leeds?'
Joanna glanced up at him, then concentrated on her needle.
'It was Mrs Kirk,' she said quietly.
'Oh, I see. And I imagine the Nabob is the fellow we saw with her at the theatre. Well, no doubt he will suit her if he can supply so many diamonds. Was she impertinent?'
'Not really. She said they had considered purchasing some property near Leeds, and might have been our neighbours, but they decided to live closer to London. I am sure that was said merely to annoy me.'
He walked across to her and removed the embroidery, then clasped her hands in his own.
'Joanna, that was finished when I married you. Did you not believe me? Were you imagining I have been seeing her here in London?'
'I – I wondered,' she whispered. 'It seemed such a coincidence she was here too.'
'I promise you I have not seen her, and I do not have any other mistresses in London, or Leeds.'
She looked up at him then, and her lips trembled as she smiled, and it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms and shower kisses onto her face. He swallowed, released her hands, and with an excuse of writing letters swiftly left the room.
*
Henry was seated in the window of a room overlooking the Place Royale. After the exodus there had been plenty of apartments to rent and from here he could see the soldiers marching southwards, and great wagons loaded with supplies and artillery. But he had found no trace of Matthew and concluded he was already on the battlefield.
He was feeling decidedly gloomy. The weather was atrocious, so much rain that the roads were deeply mired, and he had only to step out a few yards and his boots became caked in mud. He had reached Brussels a few days before the French had crossed the border and captured Charleroi, but so far as he could tell the preparations by the British army were casual and lacking in urgency. Why, Wellington himself and most of his officers had been attending balls, including one on the very day the French had crossed the border. Many had rushed off, he had heard, in their ball dresses, having no time to change into uniform.
Since then the news had been confusing but it did not, to Henry, sound good. The Prussians had been defeated at Ligny and had retreated to Wavre. Wellington had fought what sounded like an indecisive battle a
t Quatre Bras, and also retreated. Cartloads of wounded from these skirmishes had been brought in, and many houses opened to receive them. At least he had been able to discover Matthew was not amongst them. The old soldiers he talked to maintained Nosey had been right, he had to maintain his links with the Prussians, else Napoleon could drive a wedge between them and attack each in turn. It did not seem a proper way to face an enemy, in Henry's opinion.
Sunday dragged on. He had not felt able to go to church, knowing he would not have the patience to sit still, or listen to a sermon in French. Then, in the middle of the morning, he sensed a growing excitement in the Place. He opened the window and leant out to hear what they were shouting, and instead heard the distant boom of gunfire. People were making for the city ramparts in an attempt to see what was happening. How close was the battle? Was Matthew involved?
It was an anxious time. Henry refused the food his landlady offered, but he drank Madeira steadily. Then, in the afternoon, the wounded began to straggle in. Many were being carried on the wagons that had earlier transported weaponry. Others who could walk staggered along, some clutching the sides of the wagons to help them. Most who could walk had makeshift bandages binding wounds on arms or legs, but those in the wagons seemed more seriously wounded, and Henry could see, even from his window, bloody wounds that appeared to have received no attention at all.
Many of the inhabitants began to help, carrying the wounded into houses, even laying them in the open, where harassed doctors tried to deal with them. Henry peered anxiously into the faces of the wounded, dreading to see Matthew, yet in a way hoping to find him slightly wounded, sufficient to bring him away from the battle that was clearly raging. If he didn't come, Henry thought despondently, there was more chance he would be killed. And how, amongst the thousands of men involved, could he possibly find his brother? He had Potts to help, making enquiries, but how many people could two men question?
The booming of the guns continued all through the afternoon, but Henry scarcely heeded the noise. He went down into the Place and talked to some of the less badly wounded. What he heard horrified him. He had not appreciated the awful reality of war.
'It rained, we slept out all night, couldn't light fires, couldn't even fire our muskets,' one man told him, and there were similar stories from the others.
As the day wore on more news came in. It seemed to Henry there had been several separate battles going on at once, around some farmhouses, but why these were important he could not understand. All he could take in was the fact the French had finally been defeated and were streaming back to the border, Napoleon apparently amongst them.
'Boney were everywhere, on that ugly horse that's been with 'im all through Spain,' one of the men who had broken a leg said, and Henry detected the pride in his voice.
By evening the casualties were overwhelming the people of Brussels trying to help them, and then bands of prisoners were marched in. They looked a sorry lot, Henry thought. Most of them were so covered with mud it was difficult to distinguish any uniforms.
Throughout the night more wounded were brought in, and many who had walked a dozen or more miles back from the battlefield simply lay down where they could, totally exhausted. At midnight Henry went to bed, but not to sleep. How could he begin to look for Matthew in the confusion?
He rose early and installed himself at the window again. Men were still pouring into Brussels. He had been watching for an hour when another troop of prisoners came, stumbling from weariness rather than marching. Some mounted British officers were riding alongside, and suddenly Henry saw Matthew. He grabbed his hat and rushed outside.
'Matthew! Thank God! Are you wounded?'
Matthew turned and looked down at him.
'Henry? What the devil do you do here?'
Henry walked along beside him.
'I came to find you, make sure you were all right. We were too anxious to wait for a letter. Are you hurt?'
'Just a sabre scratch, really nothing to worry about, but it needs to be properly dressed, which is why I'm on this escort duty.'
He indicated some dried blood on his breeches, and Henry shuddered
'Is it bad? I have rooms here. Come and tell me about it as soon as you can, then I can go home and relieve Kenelm's anxiety.'
In the meantime he scribbled a hasty letter and sent Potts off with it, with instructions to make all haste back to England.
'Shall I take wings and fly?' Potts asked, but Henry had turned away, unheeding.
It was some hours later before Matthew appeared. His wound had been dressed and bound, but he had not found clean clothes, and he apologised for his appearance. Henry handed him some brandy.
'Not to worry. There's a spare bed, you can sleep here tonight,.'
'Thanks. I could sleep for a week.'
'Tell me what happened, then you can.'
Matthew frowned, and began to explain in short, staccato sentences. 'It was impossible to know. Couldn't see what was happening even a hundred yards away. Too much smoke. They kept battering at us. We formed closed squares. They couldn't get through, though they killed a lot. Ground's covered with corpses, thousands of 'em. The Prussians came, at last. It was almost too late. I think they turned it. They've gone after the French. Our fellows were just too weary. I slept right there. Woke to find some harpy trying to drag off my ring. Thought I was dead.'
He could say no more, and Henry put him to bed. Tomorrow, if Matthew was all right, he'd set off back to England.
*
The Westerings had a house in Albemarle Street, and when Sir Kenelm and Joanna reached it they found all the reception rooms crammed with people. After greeting their host and hostess they accepted glasses of champagne and wandered through the rooms in search of Sophia and her husband, stopping to exchange greetings with many friends and acquaintances. The talk was all the same.
'Have you heard aught from Brussels? What is happening?'
'I don't think I can bear much more of this,' Joanna said after a while. 'No one has any reliable news, and the speculation is simply making everyone panic. Can we go home?'
Their hosts were nowhere to be seen, but they eventually found their way to the hall where Joanna collected her wrap. A footman was sent to fetch their carriage, and they decided to wait outside. As they stepped onto the footway the sound of cheering came to them from the direction of Piccadilly, and Sir Kenelm turned that way. A coach swept past the end of the street. Joanna could see something poking out of the windows.
'What is it?' she asked. 'They look like the Eagles the French carried in the Peninsula.'
'They are!' Sir Kenelm said. 'We must have won!'
He pulled Joanna towards him, crushing her in his arms, and bent down to kiss her soundly on the lips. She trembled, and laughed, and hugged and kissed him back. It was some moments before they came to a realisation of what they were doing and sprang apart.
Their carriage came, they stepped inside in utter silence, and were carried home. As Firbank opened the door for them Joanna glanced at Sir Kenelm, but he was not looking at her.
'We won,' he said briefly to the butler. 'Tell the servants, if you please. Joanna, will you please come into the library,' he said, his voice slurred as though he were drunk.
He shut the door on Firbank's query whether they wished for anything to drink, and turned Joanna to face him, holding her by the shoulders. Without that support Joanna felt she might fall down.
'I've been an utter fool,' he said. 'Joanna, will you marry me?'
She blinked. He had drunk but a couple of glasses of champagne. He couldn't be inebriated.
'We – we are married,' she pointed out.
'Not properly. I was a fool to suggest a marriage of convenience.'
'I wouldn't have accepted anything else. Not then,' Joanna whispered, and wondered whether she spoke the truth. Hadn't she been attracted to him right from the first moment she saw him?
'Now I am asking you if you will make it a proper marriage. Jo
anna, I've come to love you so very much. I've wanted to have you as a proper wife for months now. Can you accept that?'
She gulped, and nodded, but before she could speak his lips descended on hers again, and she clung to him.
'I love you too,' she managed as soon as her lips were free. 'Kenelm, do you mean it?'
'I should have asked you months ago, but I was so afraid you would refuse, and blame me for trying to change the terms of our agreement. My God, I sound like a damned politician,' he said, laughing and pulling her over to sit on his lap in one of the big library chairs.
'May I – come to you tonight?' he asked a while later.
Joanna sat up and attempted to tidy her hair. She felt thoroughly decadent, sitting here on her husband's lap being kissed and fondled, delightful sensations coursing through her whole body so that she wondered whether she would be able to stand or walk. But she had to. She must go decorously up to her room, and endure Betsy's ministrations, when all she wanted was to be clasped once more in her husband's arms.
'If you don't I shall think this has all been a dream,' she managed, and he laughed and pushed her to her feet, rising swiftly to clasp her to him again.
*
'It seems we have won,' he told Firbank again as they left the room and began to climb the stairs. 'We saw some Eagles being carried, along with a dispatch, I assume.'
Would Firbank perhaps conclude their euphoria was due to this news? Joanna stifled her giggles as she headed for the stairs and, hoping her legs would not give way, began to climb.
They parted at the door of Joanna's room, and Kenelm passed on to his. Betsy was waiting for her inside, half asleep, and Joanna submitted to having her dress removed, a wrapper being donned in its place, and her hair brushed until she felt she would scream.
At last Betsy was done, her clothes were hung up, and Joanna was in bed, a single candle on the table beside it. She shivered in anticipation. She had loved him for so long now but been unable to show it. It was incredible that he loved her too, and they had wasted so much time. Was it all a dream?
The door from her dressing room opened slowly and Kenelm came through, attired in a brightly patterned damask dressing gown. He glanced round swiftly, and Joanna laughed.
The Chaperone Bride Page 21