The Lost Love of a Soldier

by Jane Lark

  When he released her, he pressed a brief kiss to her temple, then said briskly, “Let us think and talk of other things…” It was better having said what needed to be said that they did not dwell on it. What was the point? He would live or he would not.

  ~

  Ellen had prayed last night, over and over, while Paul slept, whispering the words out loud in case God could not hear them if they were spoken in her mind. She pleaded and begged God to keep him alive and bring him back.

  When she went out for a walk with Jennifer just after midday, an exodus had begun; carriages and carts were being loaded with furniture and baggage. People were fleeing the city before the fighting began – all the people who had laughed and danced as though they had no fear.

  Not everyone was leaving though; there were still many hardy revellers in the parks.

  But watching others leaving increased the fear Ellen struggled to hold back. It slept inside her, still gently breathing, and then occasionally something would stir it and it would wake, running into her blood, gripping about her heart, and capturing the air in her lungs. But she continued walking beside Jennifer as if nothing was wrong, refusing to acknowledge any chance Paul might not return. He would. She would not accept another outcome.

  When they returned to their rooms, Ellen picked up her sewing with an aim to focus her mind away from fear.

  She’d been sick this morning, fortunately it was after Paul had gone. She knew he worried about her too and she did not want him to worry more.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ellen looked up as Paul entered their room. Jennifer stood. His hand lifted. He held two gilded slips of paper. “We are invited to the Richmond ball.”

  They’d laughed about the lavish event and the battles to obtain invitations a week ago. Those who’d remained in the city had not stopped their parties; if anything they’d entertained themselves even more determinedly and the Duchess of Richmond’s was the ball everyone wished to attend.

  The Duke of Richmond rented a property in the Rue des Cendres and the ball was to be there.

  Ellen set down her sewing and stood. “How? I thought you did not wish to go.” At least the Duke and Duchess were holding it for the right reason. Paul had told Ellen, the Duke commanded the troops who were to remain in the city and defend Brussels, should Napoleon reach this far. His wife was entertaining solely to hearten the soldiers and keep their minds off war for a few hours. It was to be held in four days, on the 15th of June.

  “I did not. I do not. But the Lieutenant Colonel wishes my presence… our presence. He insists all his officers attend.”

  “So Captain Montgomery will be there too?”

  “And the others. We are to make it appear as though nothing is afoot beyond us enjoying ourselves.”

  “But that is silly.”

  “Apparently, even the Duke of Wellington wishes it so.”

  “Then we must go.”

  “Yes.” He dropped the invitations on a side table. “But for now… You may go Jennifer.” The maid dropped a swift curtsy in both their directions, then left the room, closing the door behind her. “For now, Ellen…” Paul continued, walking across the room to her. He captured her chin in the grip of his finger and thumb. “I wish to feel the flesh of my wife against my flesh.”

  “Do you not wish for dinner first?” Ellen looked into eyes full of longing.

  He shook his head. But then he smiled. “I suppose you would rather I was civilized though and let you dine first.”

  She gripped the sides of his scarlet coat. “I can wait, if I must.” She would let him do anything he wished for as many days as she had him still. The tears which had been threatening to fall all day, finally flooded her eyes.

  She blinked them away and turned her back. “Let me ring for supper to be brought here, then you can at least eat soon.”

  When Jennifer returned, Paul was already seated on the bed undressing, Ellen opened the door slightly and whispered. “Will you bring us something hot from a local inn for dinner, a pie perhaps? Leave it outside the door and knock. Oh and purchase wine too.”

  When she shut the door she leaned back against it, watching him sitting in his pantaloons, bare chested, as he worked to pull off his boots.

  He looked up at her. “All I have thought of all day is you, and being back in bed.”

  She smiled. It was good to know he thought of her, and now she could help him escape. She watched the muscle move beneath the skin of his torso. The hard contours were more defined since he’d lost weight from working so hard, but it only made him more beautiful. Yet he looked so young today. He was young. Young and too full of life to face death.

  “Take your dress off, Ellen.” She shook her head, smiling, but began unbuttoning it as he watched, leaning his hands back on to the bed.

  She undressed slowly, then turned her back to him so he might unlace her light corset. The moment it fell away there was a knock on the door.

  “Your dinner, ma’am, Captain.”

  “Thank you, Jennifer. Set it down and go!” Ellen turned away from Paul. She wore only her chemise as she crossed the room quietly. She listened to Jennifer walking away before opening the door to collect their food. The smell of hot cooked mutton filled the room as she carried it in.

  “Well now you have my stomach rumbling,” Paul said, rising.

  They ate at a table in the room, facing one another. She’d shared many moments with him in the past six months, but none had felt as intimate as this as he sat shirtless before her eating hungrily and speaking of his day. At the end of the meal his hand swept through his hair and his gaze settled on her.

  She stood. “Let me rub your shoulders.”

  He smiled.

  She walked behind him and gripped the tightly bunched muscle. “Relax.”

  He leaned his head back against her bosom, and as she kneaded his flesh, the muscle beneath her fingers softened, his breathing slowed and he shut his eyes.

  “I love you,” she said to the air above his head.

  “And I you,” he answered, his eyes opening and looking up at her. She smiled. She’d never been in doubt of his affection. It had been constant, solid and reassuring. “May we go to bed now? I know it is early, but I ache for you, Ellen.”

  “And how can I deny such an offer.”

  His smile widened, and then he stood suddenly, turning to kiss her, gripping her hair and holding her mouth to his.

  He made love slowly, just touching and kissing her for a long time, before moving over her. She opened her legs so he could come between them, and held his gaze, offering comfort with her eyes as well as her body. His gaze clung to hers as he moved, pushing in, and pulling out, over and over, in the pattern which drove her senses towards delirium. Her fingers lifted and stroked through his hair.

  It was precious, what he did to her - precious and beautiful. She would hold on to this moment for the rest of her life.

  His movements stayed slow and deliberate as her fingers clung to his shoulders and she looked into his blue eyes.

  He was hiding from reality. But she wished to hide with him and keep it at bay for as long as they could.

  She pressed back against his movement as he continued. An animalistic sound left his lungs, before her name … “Ellen.”

  She moved more forcefully with him. Wishing to help him escape and escape too.

  “You are a wonderful wife.”

  She laughed, her fingers clasping in his hair. “You are the perfect husband.”

  His gaze became matt for a moment. “And I will try to continue to be, Ellen.”

  Damn it, she’d let reality into the room. She did not wish to think of the battle, or Napoleon, or anything beyond their bed…

  “You will continue to be,” she filled her voice with strength pulling his mouth to hers and slipped her tongue across his lips.

  His movement became more urgent in reply, his hips working swiftly as her hands dropped to grip his waist and the muscle stirr
ed beneath his skin.

  Oh, he made her feel so… so…

  He broke within her in a flood of warm sensation, and his weight came down on top of her, pinning her into the mattress. She did not mind. She liked the feel of him lying over her, and his presence between her thighs. But then after a moment he rose and rolled on to his back.

  She rolled over to hold him, pillowing her head on his shoulder, her arm resting on his chest, as his came about her. She fell asleep thus.

  ~

  It was warm the night of the ball, so they walked rather than tried to obtain the credit to hire a carriage. Paul had purchased a new dress for her though, on good will and I-owe-you payment. It was the fashion, white muslin, and the fabric was virtually translucent, light and fluid. It clung to her petticoats and her bust. She loved it. She felt beautiful in it, walking beside him, holding his arm.

  Nearly every hour he’d spent at home, since they’d had that conversation in the park, had been spent in bed. He’d loved her constantly, and they’d laughed and kissed, and acted as though fate could not throw them a fatal hand.

  And here they were, attending a ball, as if this was something normal in their lives. Although for both of them it should have been, if he had not become a soldier and she had not chosen to marry and follow the drum with him.

  She and Penny had once crept downstairs and watched a ball at her father’s house, peering about the door which opened onto the musicians’ gallery. The images span through Ellen’s head.

  Her parents’ world, her childhood, seemed as if it had been a fairytale now.

  Her fingers gripped Paul’s arm more tightly as they climbed the steps to the door of the Duke of Richmond’s home, others were arriving too, some in carriages and some on foot.

  “This way, sir, madam.” A man in livery bowed to them, and then held his arm towards the back of the entrance hall. “The ball is being held outside.”

  “Outside?” Paul whispered, smiling as they followed his direction and walked on.

  Ellen smiled up at him, wondering where on earth the ball was to be held. It was warm but the weather had been temperamental for weeks. What if it rained?

  Another footman held out a hand directing them towards a narrow door. “This way.”

  As they stepped outside into a small cobbled stable-yard another man in red livery directed them on, but now they could hear the sound of the party. Voices and muted music rose on the air. People talked and laughed. It came from a long building, which looked like a coach house. Another man held a door open for them, and others who followed them.

  The inside looked nothing like a coach house. It had been papered with an ivy print; there was a wooden floor for dancing upon, and the room was illuminated by hundreds of candles.

  The music she’d heard was a jig and when she passed through the crowd with Paul, she saw the Highlanders regiment in their kilts, dancing about their swords.

  She looked up at Paul. He glanced down at her. “A worthy entertainment, but do not expect to see me manoeuvring a riffle to amuse you.”

  She laughed.

  “Come, let us find a drink and others we know.”

  It was an exclusive company they walked through. Paul acknowledged several people and introduced her to a few. Then he whispered, “The Duke of Wellington,” leaning towards her.

  “Oh.” She turned and looked. The Duke of Wellington stood across the room speaking with a number of women.

  “And there is the Duke of Brunswick.” Paul nodded in another direction. Her gaze turned to the second commander. She knew Paul revered these men.

  “Sir Thomas Picton is here too, look.”

  She did. They all meant very little to her, but they were the men who would be responsible for making the right choices to keep Paul alive.

  She looked up at him. “Do you hope for promotion if we win?”

  He smiled. “I would not be adverse to it.”

  “Then I will one day be a Colonel’s wife.” After their conversation in the park, neither of them had spoken of the possibility he might die. They were denying it. Ellen was glad.

  “You may only hope.” His smile filled with warmth.

  “Do you think my father might receive us then?”

  “I would need to be a General and have earned myself a dukedom like Wellington, for your father to accept me.”

  She turned and faced him as the music changed tempo and the Highlanders cleared the floor searching for partners among the women.

  “Dance with me, Captain Harding, before anyone else might spot us and ask me.”

  “Of course Mrs Harding.” With that she was swept away into a waltz. It was most beautiful when she danced it with her husband, holding his gaze and feeling the gentle pressure of his hands gripping her as they span. This night was precious. She would hold on to the memory of it.

  When the dance came to its conclusion, Captain Montgomery appeared beside them and held out his hand. “I claim the next, ma’am.”

  She smiled and agreed, though as she moved away she looked back over her shoulder at Paul. He smiled. It wrenched her heart to walk away from him. Have fun he mouthed silently. She did not feel as though she could without him. But then she remembered Captain Montgomery would be fighting soon too. He smiled at her over-brightly. She focused her attention on him. He deserved that much when he was to go to war.

  When the dance ended, the Lieutenant Colonel came to ask for her hand, she even felt more disposed to be kind to him. After all, everyone was at risk on a battlefield, and he was not so bad, he was polite when he did speak to her. It was just his stare she did not like. As they danced she looked across his shoulder, while his gaze seemed to hover on the curve of her jaw and her neck.

  She was glad, though, when the dance was over, and then she clung to Paul’s arm and lifted to her toes to whisper in his ear. “If anyone else asks me to dance, say, no, say you wish to keep me for yourself.”

  He looked down at her with a question in his eyes. “But there are a couple of hundred men in here, Ellen, all seeking pretty partners and a moment to escape.”

  He made her feel guilty, and for the first time as she glanced around the makeshift ballroom, she realised there was a forced, overly exuberant feeling within it. All these men were a little afraid but being brave and forcing fear aside.

  She looked up at Paul and realised he was too. That was why they’d spent most of the week in bed. “I’m sorry, I shall dance again if anyone wishes me to. But first will you take me to get some lemonade?”

  There was a lot of high-pitched laughter in the room, from both men and women, and many of the young officers drank heavily.

  She was sorry for them. All of them.

  When they reached the refreshment table, Paul accepted a small sculpted glass in the shape of an open tulip and handed it to her. The lemonade’s tartness tingled on her tongue. It was cool and refreshing as the room was hot with so many people gathered.

  They turned as the orchestra struck up another jig to jubilant calls from the crowd, and the Highlanders came forth again to entertain.

  Paul drank the lemonade too. It was only sweetened flavoured water. He was avoiding the wine. She looked about the room – most of the senior officers present were avoiding it too. They awaited the moment they were called to fight.

  Paul’s fingers gripped her elbow. “Let’s watch.” He drew her forward. The men stepped and danced over crossed swords which they’d laid out on the floor. The crowd kept gasping and then laughing as the Highlanders’ feet moved between the blades, while clapping along. But again, there was that otherworldly abandonment in the atmosphere.

  She leaned into Paul’s side more closely, and his arm unusually came about her, his fingers clasping at her waist as they continued to watch. She pressed her temple to his shoulder, still watching the men but feeling love sweep through her blood. She was so much happier than she had thought it ever possible to be.

  When the jig had finished, she would have asked
Paul to dance with her again but one of the Highlanders came over to her and asked for her hand. She could not refuse, not now she’d realised what tonight meant.

  After she’d danced with the Highlander, Paul’s Lieutenant Colonel came to ask for her hand in the next waltz, and so again she had to leave Paul. Her heart longed for him all the time she danced, but she tried to smile, and speak brightly. These men were willing to give their lives for her and others.

  She was breathless when the Lieutenant Colonel returned her to Paul, his fingers gripping her elbow. The grip seemed to hold a little too long as they stood facing Paul. “Your wife, returned, Captain.”

  Paul saluted, then bowed a little, and the Lieutenant Colonel’s grip fell away.

  As he walked away, Ellen longed to hug her husband. She wished it was time they could go home but the ball was nowhere near ready to break up; it would look odd if they left so early.

  “May I dance with you once more, or are you too tired?”

  She smiled at his hesitant but urging look. “Not too tired. I would love to dance with you.”

  “Come then.” His embrace was firm as he took her waist and her hand then span her into another waltz. Paul had said London society would be shocked to its core by the army’s addiction to the waltz. But everything was different here and when Ellen danced it with Paul, it was heaven.

  When they finished, heat flushed into her cheeks. The air in the room had become overly warm, and not only from dancing.

  She smiled at Paul, laughing as he breathed more heavily also and his blue gaze clung to hers. “We shall leave soon.”

  Directly behind him there was a flurry of whispers. Ellen looked over his shoulder. The group of people about the Duke of Wellington were all turning to others and passing some message on while the Duke spoke with the Duke of Richmond, looking concerned.