The Emerald Duchess Page 9

  Emily did not move or even breathe until she heard the street door slam, and then she put her face in her hands and burst into tears. How long she sat there crying, she had no idea, but at last she rose and went up to change her clothes and redo her hair. The gown was ruined, and she was glad it was beyond repair, for she could never have worn it again. She shivered as she took it off, and then, remembering his last words, she stopped and stared at herself in Lady Quentin’s mirror. Her cheek was still red from his blow, but she was not looking at that, but rather deep into her own eyes. He had said that she was desirable, that she was made for love, and she remembered that for one shameful moment while he was caressing her, she had felt an answering surge, even in all her fright. Could it be true, that she was just like her mother, and not a decent woman at all? And then she remembered Lady Quentin and her obvious enjoyment in making love, and she felt much better. It had nothing to do with morals, or whether you were good or bad. It was just a normal part of being a woman.

  Lady Quentin spent an extraordinary amount of time choosing her gown and jewels for the Duchess of Richmond’s ball, for she wanted to look her best for Tony. He had promised her that nothing would interfere with his escorting her to what promised to be a most festive evening.

  “Perhaps I will even dance with the duke, Nelly,” she said. “He always likes a pretty woman, you know, and he smiled at me so warmly the other evening at Lord Uxbridge’s that I am sure I have piqued his interest, even if he is, as they say at the moment, intrigued with Lady Frances Webster. What fun if Tony should be jealous!”

  She giggled with laughter at the thought, and Emily smiled with her. She had not seen or heard from Colonel Rogers again, and every day that passed reassured her that he had accepted his defeat.

  “I do wonder, though, Nelly,” Lady Quentin was saying, “if Tony was right, and the allies are about to go into battle. He says so little of it, but there is a look in his eyes lately.” She shivered and went to sit down in the chair by the window that she often used while she watched the street and waited for her husband.

  Emily saw that she had forgotten her maid, and left the room quietly.

  It would be hard for anyone in Brussels not to know that there was something going on. Units appeared and disappeared; the streets rang with the sounds of booted feet and harsh commands, and at the next moment, they were gone. Supply wagons rumbled in long lines down the street, the horses hooves clattering on the cobblestones in response to the cracking of whips. Emily felt as if the population of Brussels was holding its breath, and a part of her wished the war would begin. Since it appeared to be inevitable, the suspense of waiting for it, day after day, was terrible.

  But by June 14 they were still waiting. Emily helped Lady Quentin dress for the Richmond ball in a gown she had been saving for this special occasion. It was a pale-green silk with the fashionable round neckline that only half-concealed her breasts. The sash and the trimming on the tiny puffed sleeves were of grass-green satin, and her sandals matched exactly. With this gown she wore a rope of pearls, and Emily dressed her hair regally high, the curls caught up with pearl combs. She looked stunning, and when she came down the stairs, Captain Quentin bowed very low, his handsome face beaming with his love and admiration.

  Emily curtsied to them both as they left, and after carefully locking the front door and instructing the maid that on no account was she to admit the officer who had called the other evening, she went upstairs.

  The Duchess of Richmond had rented a house on the me de la Blanchisserie, and it was here that the civilians and the military gathered that evening—everyone who was anyone, that is, for admission was by ticket only. Lady Quentin told Emily later that even so it was a perfect crush, why, even H.R.H. the Prince of Orange had come especially to Brussels to attend!

  The ballroom was situated on the first floor of the house, and the duchess had had it transformed by using the royal colors of crimson, gold, and black. There were brilliant draperies and hangings and many blazing chandeliers, and even the pillars were entwined in flowers and ribbons. The Duke of Wellington arrived rather late, and a young lady whose family was well acquainted with him had the daring to break away from the dance and go to him immediately to ask him if the rumors that were circulating were true. The duke answered her solemnly. Yes, all too true, and they would all be off tomorrow. Instantly a great buzz arose as the news went around. Lady Quentin confided that for a moment she felt quite faint, and it was only by hanging tightly to Tony’s arm while he tried to protect her from the crowd milling around that she was able to contain herself, “and seeing a very fat elderly lady having hysterics,” she added. Tony left her in Lady Caroline Capel’s charge while he sought out his commanding officer. When he came back, there was a grim line to his mouth.

  When the Quentins arrived home so early, with Lady Quentin weeping softly as she came up to her room, Emily knew at once what had happened. The captain came in just then, but when Emily would have left them, be asked her to remain.

  “We do not have much time, and what I have to say I wish Nelly to hear, too, for she will be involved,” he explained.

  Emily went to stand behind her mistress and waited while the captain paced up and down, running a hand through his black hair.

  “I want you both to make for Antwerp as soon as possible in the morning,” he said firmly. “No, Alicia, there will be no pleading. I insist on your promise that you will obey me. Napoleon is almost to Quatre Bras, and that is only about twenty miles from Brussels.”

  Emily gasped, and Lady Quentin turned pale and clenched her hands tightly together.

  “In the unlikely event that we should not be victorious, the French could be in the city as soon as tomorrow evening. I shall not be easy unless I am sure you will not still be here. Do you understand, both of you?”

  “Of course, Tony, I will do what you say, I promise,” Lady Quentin said at once.

  Emily nodded when he swung his glance to her.

  “Take good care of your mistress, Nelly, and do not let her return until it is safe, no matter what news is brought.” He looked very grim, and Emily realized that he was referring to his possible death or wounding, and she swallowed as she nodded again.

  “You are to dismiss the servants and take only what you need when you go. Do not waste time packing finery,” he continued. “You had better go by barge; who knows what state the roads will be in? Unfortunately, Boothby and I will be gone too early to see to it. Nelly, you must get a place for your mistress and yourself and obtain passports as well.”

  “Yes, sir,” Emily answered. She was impressed with the captain’s quiet orders and the way Lady Quentin was controlling herself, and vowed she would do no less, although she had to admit she was very frightened. Perhaps they all were, but she saw that the only thing to do was not to show it.

  “Leave the carriage and team here; better still, I will take it to headquarters. We may have need of it,” he added, his voice grim, but he did not elaborate. Fortunately, neither girl thought to ask him what he meant.

  “I think that is all. Be sure you have enough money with you, Alicia, and do not return to Brussels until I send you word. If the news is bad—if this time we do not win—sail for England immediately. Promise me you will do as I say.”

  For the first time he looked so upset that Lady Quentin rose and went to him, holding out her hands. “My dearest, do not worry. I am just as much under your orders as any of your soldiers.” She gave him a shaky salute, and the captain’s grim expression changed to a smile.

  “Best of my troops, Alicia! I am proud of you.”

  Emily stole away as he took his wife into his arms, and then, when she heard them murmuring, she went down to the kitchen. There was so little time left. She had to let them have this last night alone.

  5

  Emily spent what was left of the night curled up in an old chair, but she was up and heating water as soon as she heard the Quentins stirring. Sergeant Boothby had slippe
d in the back door, and with a jaunty wink he took the jug up so the captain might shave. Emily busied herself making the tea for them both, which they drank hastily in the kitchen. The captain had a grim, faraway expression on his face this morning, and even the sergeant was unusually quiet.

  Just before they left, Captain Quentin made her promise again that she would follow all his instructions, and as Emily curtsied, she could not help saying, “Do not worry about your wife, sir. She is not the young girl we both knew a few months ago, she has grown up.”

  The captain nodded, his expression brightening as he realized she was right. “Go to her now, Nelly,” he said, “for I am sure she needs you”

  With that, they were gone, Emily wishing the sergeant good luck as he followed the captain out the door.

  “Never you worries your pretty little ’ead about me, Miss Nelson,” he said in his old, irrepressible way. “Oim always fine! Lands on me feet, I does, no matter wot!”

  When Emily went to Lady Quentin’s room, she found her once again waving good-bye and holding her candle high in the window so her husband might see her. There was only the barest lightening of the sky, although it appeared it was going to be a fine day. At least it is not raining as it has been the past few days, Emily thought, and then had to shake herself for her silliness. What difference did it make whether you fought in in rain or brilliant sunshine? It was horrible either way.

  She persuaded Lady Quentin to get back in bed and have a cup of tea, prepared for her to break down, now they were alone. But her mistress did no such thing. While she sipped the hot brew, she instructed Emily to fetch a paper and quill and ink, and take down a list of things they would need to take with them to Antwerp. “We might as well use our time well, Nelly,” she said, and even though her eyes were suspiciously bright, she did not weep. She decided a pair of portmanteaus would suffice for the few belongings they would need.

  “And my jewels, of course. As soon as it is time, I will go with you to the bank and then to the military commander for our passports. There is no use trying to get a place on the barge without them. Oh, and Nelly, send the housekeeper up to me when she arrives, if you please, so I can give her her wages and dismiss her.”

  But this Emily was unable to do, for she never appeared, and when Emily went up to the attic, she discovered the scullery maid had gone as well, with all her bits and pieces. It seemed the Belgians were convinced that Napoleon would be victorious, and they had no desire to be caught serving the English. Lady Quentin shrugged when she learned of their defection. “It is only to be expected,” she said. “I am sure the populace are already planning a great fete to welcome the French.”

  Emily helped her to dress, and then the two of them made their way to the bank through the ominously empty streets. Empty, that is, of the reassuring presence of the military, although there were many other civilians hurrying here and there. After Lady Quentin had withdrawn a sufficient amount of money, they had a long wait before they were finally admitted to the military commander’s office. He looked harassed, and was impatient to the point of rudeness. When she asked for passports for herself and her maid, he rose and shook a stern finger at her.

  “You are not the first one here with the same request this morning, Lady Quentin. I cannot believe it! Why, it is not for us to panic and run, for that will only spread alarm. Remember, you are an Englishwoman! Besides, there is no need for such lily-heartedness; our troops shall beat Napoleon in short order as they did before, and then you will feel vastly silly, will you not, so far from the scene of our triumph?”

  “But, sir,” Lady Quentin said earnestly, “I promised my husband that I would go, on my sacred honor.”

  “No, no! I refuse to issue the passports. You must be brave, madam, and by your behavior show these—these foreigners what the English are made of. What we want now is blood, not retreat! And now, you must excuse me, for I have much to do.”

  He held the door of his office open, and Lady Quentin and Emily were forced to leave. Outside, in the street, Lady Quentin said, “What a terrible man! As if it made any difference whether we go or stay.” She did not sound at all upset, and Emily looked at her intently.

  Lady Quentin looked a little conscious as she shook her head. “I know, Nelly, that it will mean breaking my promise, but what can we do without passports? Besides, Tony thinks we have gone and so he will not worry, and that is the most important thing. And you know,” she added as she began to walk in the direction of their rented house, “I cannot help but feel the commander is right. I am sure we will vanquish the French.”

  Emily shook her head in despair of ever keeping her promises to the captain as she trailed Lady Quentin. They had not gone very far when they were hailed from a passing carriage.

  “Alicia! Are you still here too?” She looked up to discover Lady Caroline Capel motioning her coachman to pull up. “Come, let me give you a lift home. The streets are so crowded, it is not safe.” She laughed lightly as Lady Quentin and Emily were handed into the carriage. “I have been to the wharf, and what a crush! All the world is trying to escape Brussels, but it is no use. Wellington has commanded all the barges, and there are none left for us poor civilians.”

  Lady Quentin asked the reason, and in a more sober tone Lady Caroline said that they were reserved to carry the wounded. Both ladies were silent for a long moment, and then Lady Caroline patted her friend’s hand. “Come, Alicia, you must be as brave as your husband. Do you stay in town? Mr. Capel and I are going to a rustic retreat outside the city. Come with us, I beg you!”

  Lady Quentin thanked her, but said that since she was unable to get to Antwerp, she rather thought she would remain where her husband would be sure to find her when he returned from the front. In everyone’s mind lingered the thought that he might never return, but no one spoke of it.

  Lady Caroline set them down at their door and bid them good fortune. “If I were not so near my time, dear Alicia, I would stay with you, I vow, but Mr. Capel is so worried about the baby, he insists on our departure. Take care, my dear. I shall be praying for you and your gallant captain.” With a last wave she was gone, and Lady Quentin and her maid went into the house.

  “I think we should put up the shutters, Nelly,” she said as she removed her bonnet. “I know they are no real protection, but we will feel safer, I think.”

  She never thought to help, and so it was some time later that Emily had the downstairs windows shuttered and barred, with the front door securely bolted. When she was done, both women felt better.

  All through that long, sultry day they waited. Emily prepared some simple meals, which was all she knew how to cook, and Lady Quentin made herself eat. She found herself pacing up and down most of the day, praying silently for her husband’s safety, and Emily added her prayers as well. Toward evening, they could hear the guns clearly, and Lady Quentin, quite pale now, asked Emily to go and see if she could find out any news. Emily did not want to leave her alone in the house with dusk coming on, but her mistress insisted. “I shall be worse if I do not know what is happening, Nelly. Hurry back as fast as you can.”

  Emily slipped outside and made her way to the ramparts, where a vast crowd had assembled to listen to the echoes of the artillery and make speculations about the course of the battle. Emily thought she would remember the booming sounds of the guns as long as she lived, and she could not help feeling very frightened. She was standing a little apart, straining her eyes toward the horizon as if she might see what was happening, when an acquaintance of the Quentins came up and spoke to her.

  “Isn’t it just terrible, Miss Nelson?” this lady said, wringing her hands in an agitated way. “They are saying we have lost the Battle Round the Crossroads, and Napoleon will be upon us before much longer. I have heard such tales, you would not believe it.”

  Here, Mrs. Ward rummaged through her reticule for a handkerchief as the tears poured down her cheeks. “Tell Lady Quentin to come to the Greville’s house tomorrow if she wishes
news,” she said when she had composed herself a little. “Lady Charlotte seems to know what is going on for a great deal of information finds its way to her from Wellington and others. I shall be there as well. Give your mistress my love and tell her that I will see her tomorrow.”

  She paused, and Emily, who had always thought her a silly, overdressed woman concerned only with her own comforts, was disconcerted to hear her add, “Do not tell Alicia this, my girl, but the news is very bad. We have lost almost five thousand of our men. Pray God our troops will hold! Tell Alicia that as far as you were able to discover, the Guards were not engaged, for the Scottish regiments bore the brunt of the fighting.”

  Emily nodded and curtsied as Mrs. Ward hurried away, and then she turned to peer again through the gathering dusk. Was she imagining it, or were the sounds of the guns closer? She did not know how people could continue to stand there listening to those ominous echoes of the fighting. For herself, she wished there was some place she could go where she would not have to hear them.

  “Miss Nelson?” she heard a deep voice ask from close behind her, and she whirled, her hand going to her throat in surprise. The Duke of Wrotherham stood there, and when he saw the panic in her eyes, he said, “Pardon me, I did not mean to startle you. I see your mistress also left her departure too late, like the rest of these improvident people.”

  He sounded so angry and disapproving that Emily said, “We did try to leave, your Grace, but we could not obtain passports, and all the barges have been commandeered by the military.”

  Just then there was another salvo, and she swung around to stare toward the sound, clutching her reticule with fingers that had turned white with her grip.