Darcy's Journey (21 page)

45

A hand touched her shoulder.
Elizabeth rolled over to see Lorraine de Crécy at her side.

‘Sorry, I must wake you.’

Elizabeth sat up, her stomach churning
as she recalled their predicament. ‘News?’

‘It is confirmed that our armies have
been marching to Quatre Bras to support the Prussians, and will engage the
French today.’ Lorraine sighed. ‘The men are already up, studying the latest
messages. Shall I ask my maid to attend you?’

Elizabeth dressed and hastened
downstairs to find the others assembled in the dining room, talking over coffee
and rolls.

She sat beside Darcy. ‘Has anything been
decided?’

Colonel Fitzwilliam answered. ‘My orders
just arrived. I am to join my regiment at their camp for an inspection, then
report to headquarters.’

‘The 52
^nd
is still encamped
west of Brussels?’ Elizabeth asked.

‘Yes. You see, on first hearing of the
French advance, the Field Marshall believed it might be a feint, with the main
attack coming from the west. He therefore split the army in two parts, one to
intercept the enemy at Quatre Bras, the other, including my regiment, to wait
near the city. It is now too late to join our comrades, so for the time being
we can only wait and hope.’

Lorraine frowned. ‘But with only half an
army against Bonaparte’s entire force, what can be done?’

Colonel Fitzwilliam spread his palms.
‘Nothing is sure. The French may have committed only part of their army. Also
we are not alone: the Prussians will be joining from the east. But you are
probably right. If we cannot hold them we must conserve our troops and retreat.’

‘In which case,’ said the Vicomte,
‘Brussels may fall within a few days.’ He turned to his daughter. ‘You must
leave,
ma chère
, for Antwerp. Mademoiselle Bennet too.’

‘Why Antwerp?’ Elizabeth asked.

‘It is 25 miles to the north,’ Darcy
said, ‘well fortified, and located on a river not far from the sea.’

Mademoiselle de Crécy turned to her
father. ‘
Papa
, I wish to remain where I can be of use in the hospital.
If what we fear comes to pass, the
Minimes
will be overwhelmed.’

The Vicomte shook his head. ‘Out of the
question. If Bonaparte enters Brussels, none of us will be safe. People are
already destroying newspapers that carry insulting cartoons of the self-styled
Emperor. His spies know we have aided the British. I cannot leave ladies here
in the path of a rampaging French army.’

Darcy nodded. ‘I agree.’

Lorraine de Crécy glanced at Elizabeth,
then faced her father again. ‘And the nuns and other nurses? If they stay, then
as patron so should I.’

‘It would be a meaningless gesture,’ the
Vicomte said.

Bristling, Lorraine cried, ‘Outrageous!
You know that I understand the administration of the hospital intimately and
can help in many ways.’

The Vicomte looked away, more in sadness
than anger. ‘I am not going to argue. A decision has been taken, and you will
leave this morning at eight o’clock.’

‘And the gentlemen?’ Elizabeth asked.

‘I must remain one more day,’ the
Vicomte said. ‘If Mr Darcy agrees, I would be vastly reassured if he accompanied
you to Antwerp.’

Elizabeth turned to Darcy, expecting an
immediate confirmation, but he hesitated. ‘I need to confer with my cousin.’

She felt a pain like a stab to the heart.
‘But surely you can do nothing here? It is a matter for the military.’

Colonel Fitzwilliam said gently, ‘That
is not altogether true, Miss Bennet. The fighting is for trained soldiers, but
there are jobs behind the lines for any fit man, especially one that can read
and write.’

‘Or any fit
woman
,’ Lorraine de Crécy
said pointedly.

The Vicomte slapped the table. ‘I am not
going to put the ladies in the way of French soldiers,’ he said. ‘That is final.’

Elizabeth took Darcy’s arm. ‘I beg you
…’

He said kindly, ‘I must do my duty, Elizabeth.
Whether that lies in protecting you, or serving my country, remains uncertain.’

She longed to press him, but intuited
that this was not the time. ‘I will support whatever you decide.’

Elizabeth sorted through a case in
which she was keeping Jane’s letters and other treasured mementos of her journey.
A trunk had been packed with essential clothing, and she looked longingly at
her silk dress, wondering if she would ever come back to reclaim it.

There was a tap on the door, and Lorraine
entered and sat beside her on the edge of her bed.

‘It is sad to leave our precious things
behind, no?’

Elizabeth smiled sadly. ‘And people.’

‘But surely your Mr Darcy will come.’

Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears. ‘He
will see it as his duty to remain with his cousin.’

Lorraine squeezed her hand. ‘But
chérie
,
he loves you.’

‘Even so.’ Elizabeth wiped her eyes
impatiently on her cuff. ‘I wish
we
could stay as well.’

‘I too.’ Lorraine pointed at the case.
‘What are you taking?’

Elizabeth showed her some of the items,
handling them with reverent care as the memories returned. The blonde wig was
admired, and they both tried it on. Alice Dill’s drawings. Copies of two songs
by Schubert. Two Bavarian wooden dolls with jointed limbs.

‘But your lovely silk dress, which you
wore to the ball!’ Lorraine protested. ‘Absolutely you must bring it too.’

‘I doubt I will feel like dancing in
Antwerp.’

‘Never mind. It is now part of you,
essential for the morale.’

‘I suppose we could make room for it.’

‘You must! I will call the servant.’

When they re-joined the men in the
lounge, Elizabeth knew immediately that her fears were justified. Darcy regarded
her stony-faced as the Vicomte explained the latest developments. Colonel
Fitzwilliam believed that Mr Darcy could usefully be co-opted as an adjutant to
assist the 52
^nd
behind the lines. To explore this possibility, Mr
Darcy, like the Vicomte, would stay one more day. This left the ladies to
depart alone; fortunately, the Duke and Duchess de Beaufort were also leaving,
and had space in their carriage.

Elizabeth had expected Lorraine to
object, but instead she went to her father and embraced him. Darcy, his expression
still grave, motioned Elizabeth to a corner where they could talk in privacy.

He met her eye and sighed. ‘I beg you,
Elizabeth, have no fear on my account. In all probability, the Viscount and I
will join you in Antwerp. But I cannot in conscience leave now. Fate has led us
into the centre of this conflict, and I could not live with myself if I fled
when I could have been of service. Remember that as an adjutant I would play no
part in the fighting.’

She stared at him, her face twisted with
pain. ‘And this is the man who
abhors disguise of any sort?
The
Viscount
,
perhaps, will join us later, but not
you
. Well, fine. Be the hero, if
you must, but let us call a spade a spade. Even behind the lines, you will be
in range of enemy artillery, or fall prey to their soldiers if they break
through. By remaining, you place yourself in mortal peril, so please let us
have no nonsense about
having no fear
. I will be sick with anxiety for
you, and your cousin, and that is an end to it.’

His face darkened. ‘I am shocked that
you speak thus.
Be the hero,
indeed. As if my actions were motivated by
egotism. Nor do I apologize for trying to reassure you. In such times, it does
no good to focus on possible disasters. Far better to keep hope alive.’

She took both his hands, her eyes wet.
‘I am just so—afraid.’

He stroked her hand, as if comforting a
child, and they parted.

46

Saturday 17
^th
June

Darcy opened his bedroom shutters and inhaled
moist warm air. Heavy rain had fallen during the night, accompanied by thunder,
and the sky remained overcast with the threat of showers.

He was alone in the house except for
Colonel Fitzwilliam, Burgess, and a skeleton staff. The Viscount, having
completed his business, had left just a few hours after his daughter on the
Friday; Darcy had caught up on lost sleep while waiting for his cousin to
return from the tour of inspection. The result left little room for doubt. The
regiment was preparing to march to its battle station north-west of the Mont St
Jean ridge, and needed urgently to re- provision from Brussels. With some
command of French, and access to funds, Darcy was ideally placed to help.

The rest of the day he spent touring the
city with Burgess and another servant, buying beer, biscuits, salt pork, dried
peas, lint and other medical materials, and hiring carters to carry them to the
new camp. It was frustrating work, the roads often blocked by fleeing families,
or soldiers, or quartermasters from other regiments also seeking supplies. But
it was conducted against a background of artillery, audible even twenty miles
away: a reminder, if one were needed, of the urgency of their preparations.

On the Friday evening the oppressive
heat broke as the rain and thunder came, and by dark the guns had fallen
silent. News arrived of an indecisive battle. Bonaparte had tried to drive a
wedge between the Prussians at Ligny, and the British at Quatre Bras. French
forces led by Marshal Ney had bombarded the British positions and gained
ground, but in the shelter of a wood the British had regrouped and driven the
enemy back.

Darcy breakfasted alone, recalling
his parting with Elizabeth. He had written her a note, treading a fine line between
honesty and reassurance; so far no post had arrived from Antwerp. The cannon
were silent. He was on his second cup of coffee when Colonel Fitzwilliam lumbered
in and slumped into a chair.

‘Morning, Darce. I could sleep for a
month.’

‘Any news of the battle?’

Colonel Fitzwilliam chuckled. ‘It seems
we have at last outwitted the Corsican. Our men, and the Prussians too, slipped
away in the night and retreated on parallel routes to Brussels. They arrived
early this morning, soaked to the skin but in good spirits. When the French
resume their advance they will find the battlefield empty.’

Darcy frowned. ‘Is that such good news?
It is a blessing that we have preserved the army, but if Quatre Bras has been
abandoned with impunity, why fight for it in the first place?’

‘We were taken by surprise, and could
not bring all our forces to the battle. Yes, leaving Quatre Bras is a concession,
but far better to re-unify the army and confront the French on ground of our
own choosing.’

‘What is the plan for today?’

Colonel Fitzwilliam took a list from his
coat pocket. ‘There will be no battle. Bonaparte needs time to regroup and
march. We will fortify our positions along the ridge, and set up camps and
field hospitals on the north slope. I have a fresh list of provisions. We
should also get you an adjutant uniform for tomorrow …’

Elizabeth accompanied Mademoiselle
de Crécy along the promenade beside the wide Scheldt river.

‘So many boats,’ she said, pointing.

‘Yes, Antwerp has pretensions to become
the largest port in Europe,’ Lorraine said. ‘The docks have been extended, and
the river bed deepened to allow large ships to pass. You can probably guess who
was responsible.’

‘Bonaparte again?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘Wherever I go, his name crops up. A
bridge here, a road there, now a dock. It is intolerable.’

‘He wished to weaken Britain, by building
up Antwerp into a port that would rival London as a trading centre.’

‘Of course there would be some nefarious
motive. Did you sleep well?’

Lorraine smiled. ‘Yes, despite the rain
and your fidgeting.’

‘I was distressed.’

‘Understandably, with your friends in
danger.’

‘Yes, but I was mostly upset with
myself, as usual.’

‘For agreeing to leave Brussels?’

Elizabeth sighed. ‘No, for my treatment
of Mr Darcy. What is it about that man? Always he brings out the worst in me.’

‘Surely you did not quarrel at such a
time? I was angry with father for insisting that I left, but our parting was
affectionate.’

‘I wanted so much for him to come with
us.’ Elizabeth looked away, struggling to compose herself. ‘When your father’s
carriage arrived yesterday I thought for a moment that Mr Darcy had relented.
But no. Always
he
is the one that must solve the world’s problems,
regardless of the cost to himself.’

‘Is that not admirable?’

‘Of course!’

‘Then why quarrel with him?’

Elizabeth threw up her hands. ‘Why
indeed? Because I am a child. I have been pampered all my life, and have never
taken responsibility for anything. If the world is not to my liking, I sulk
like a little girl deprived of her doll. I am only here now because Mr Darcy
spent a fortune and risked his life to rescue me. Now he devotes himself to a
cause far more deserving than myself, and how do I react? Instead of giving
unqualified support, I pick holes in his attempts to reassure me, and even
imply that he is acting out of vanity.’ She covered her face. ‘The look of contempt
on his face as we parted! I could feel his respect for me draining away.’

Mademoiselle de Crécy made no reply, and
they proceeded in silence. Eventually she said, ‘Shall we return and find a
place for breakfast?’

They turned from the river, and a
five-minute walk brought them to a grand square opposite the Cathedral of Our
Lady. The weather was warm, although overcast, and they sat outside in the
square and ordered coffee and waffles.

‘You exaggerate, Elizabeth.’ Lorraine
took a bite from the grid-shaped pastry, garnished with strawberries and
crushed sugar. ‘Perhaps in your anxiety you spoke carelessly, but I cannot
believe Mr Darcy regarded you with disrespect. He might even have been
heartened that you pleaded with him to leave. It shows the depth of your affection.’

Elizabeth sighed. ‘Have you heard the artillery?’

‘Not since yesterday evening.’

‘If only they could be safe.’
Instinctively, Elizabeth put her hands together, then looked self-consciously
at Lorraine. ‘Do you trust the efficacy of prayer?’

Mademoiselle de Crécy raised her
eyebrows. ‘Unfortunately our enemies pray to the same God.’

‘It is kind of the Duke and Duchess to
take us in.’

‘Our families have been friends for
generations.’

They ate in silence, listening to a
frantic conversation on the next table about Quatre Bras.

‘What are they saying?’ Elizabeth asked.

‘That the Prussians are incompetent, and
the British and Dutch outnumbered.’

Elizabeth looked into the distance,
towards the cathedral facade. ‘What will happen to us, if Bonaparte wins?’

‘You, I imagine, will flee by boat to
England. Here, in Wallonia, we will return to our former status as a region of
France rather than the Netherlands.’

Elizabeth studied her friend, marvelling
at the stoicism with which people on the European mainland accepted these perpetual
upheavals and shifting sovereignties.

‘How many languages do you speak?’

Lorraine counted on her fingers. ‘French,
in the Walloon dialect, of course. English, studied since childhood. Quite good
Flemish. A few words of German and Italian. Yourself?’

Elizabeth raised a single finger.
‘English. Plus whatever I picked up on this trip—mostly Italian.’

Lorraine smiled. ‘It is because you live
on an island.’

And because we are arrogant and lazy
,
Elizabeth thought. She recalled cartoons in the English newspapers, with their pretentions
of superiority, and their portrayal of foreigners as comical numskulls.

‘Shall we look inside the cathedral?’

‘Why not?’ Lorraine stood up. ‘We could
say a prayer.’

‘For victory?’

‘Or for sanity.’

Elizabeth agreed, and took her arm as they
left.