Major Lord David (23 page)

But the minute they passed through the ancient walls of the
city, she wished she had not insisted on coming. For the town
was in great confusion-hot, steamy, and malodorous with the
crowded, wounded, and unwashed. The sidewalks were still
covered with straw, where great numbers of wounded men,
given no other shelter, had lain for days. Hayden told her it
had taken three days to collect the allied wounded from the
battlefield; many of the French wounded had had to await
help even longer. The terrible situation for such men soon
roused Billie’s sympathies rather than her shock. Amid that
mass of suffering she was more determined than ever to find
Kit and David and to render whatever assistance she might.

Hayden had procured them two rooms-seemingly the last
available-on the Rue de la Madeleine, at l’Hotel d’Angleterre. As most of the English community seemed to be housed near
the Royal Palace and the park, he assured Billie they would
soon be in close communication with those who would have
word of their brothers.

Billie and Ephie settled into their tiny room with the maid,
Simms, and washed some of the travel dirt from their faces
and hands. They would have to share the bed, with Simms on
the trestle, as all available mattresses and bedding had been
surrendered to the care of the wounded. The circumstances
were indeed dire.

“You boasted of your capable hands, lass,” Ephie said mildly
as they met each others’ glances. “We are not likely to remain
untested”

“I shall do what I can, Ephie,” Billie said, though the extent
of the problems overwhelmed her. “But first I should just
like … that is, I need to know”

Ephie nodded as they set out to join Hayden and Knowles
to walk the few blocks to the house the Athingtons had leased
so close to the park. Though the bright sun beat hotly outside,
the curtains were shut; the front hall was dark and the air too
close. Billie heard a groan from a salon to her right; the footman told them that the Athingtons were housing half a dozen
other wounded soldiers in their lower rooms.

Mr. Athington, advancing from down the hall, bowed to
Hayden.

“My lord, I had your note,” he said, acknowledging the rest
of them with nods. “Do come on back and see Alan. He ishe is doing well.” And they followed him into a back parlor,
which seemed airier than the rest of the house.

Charis and her mother, who had been sitting on opposite
sides of the single bed, rose rather stiffly as their visitors entered. But Billie was not in the mood for ceremony.

“Charis!” she said, moving forward to kiss the beauty on
the cheek. Charis would always look lovely, but just now her
face was anguished.

“Miss-Miss Billie,” she gulped. “So good of you to-Oh!”
she burst out, her celebrated composure snapping in a flood of
tears. “They do hope to spare his arm!”

Billie helped her to sit. She glanced at Alan Athington, who
lay upon the bed. Whatever pain or worries he had, his gaze
was alert and bright.

“Miss Caswell, you mustn’t mind m’sister. She is bein’ a
goose. How d’you do, Hayden? Knowles. Miss Caswell-”

“Athington,” Hayden said, “we would not have troubled
you-”

“Not at all! Glad of the company. There are so many of us
bedridden, there are too few to make calls!” He seemed to
find this worthy of a laugh. Billie thought his color healthy,
though he looked to have lost weight. “I shall be laid up here
some time. Might as well make the best of it. And there are
too many grim faces about. I’ll tell you, Hayden, my greatest
pain at the moment is not bein’ able to march on Paris with
the Fifty-second!”

“So speaks the British infantry.” Hayden bowed deeply to
him. “I commend you, Lieutenant.”

Athington blushed. “Shouldn’t even have been here without your brother, Hayden. Demmed-demmed fine thing he
did.”

“Oh, we can never repay him!” Charts added, with such a
generous look that Billie had to fight a most uncharitable
thought.

“I am sure he would not think of it, Miss Athington,” Hayden said. “But do tell us, when did you last see him?”

“See him?” Charts looked confused. “Why, we have not
seen him at all. Has he not gone on to Paris with the Duke of
Wellington?”

As Hayden frowned, Billie tried to tamp down the anxiety
that had been growing for days. She had convinced herself
there would be word from one of Hayden’s many messengers,
that there would be news once they reached Brussels, that the Athingtons would surely know. But Hayden’s frown made her
shiver.

“Do tell us how you came here,” Knowles asked Athington,
.,and how you do?”

So Alan Athington relayed the tale of his rescue, which lent
Billie some minimal comfort, although David’s risk had equaled
his bravery.

“I doubt I should have survived at all without his aid,”
Athington said. “And certainly not with the use of my limbs.
Charis moans about this ruddy arm, but even that’s nothing
compared to others… “He went on, much too explicitly. Billie
was thankful when Hayden interrupted, perhaps noticing-as
Billie did-the Athington ladies’ white faces.

“Have you seen anything further of Barton, then?”

“No. Though that reminds me … Mama, open the drawer
there, would you please?” And Mrs. Athington slid open a
nightstand drawer to pull out a watch. She passed it to Hayden.

“It’s Trent’s,” Athington said. “Barton didn’t want it on ‘im,
apparently. Said he was returning to the line to find the major,
and there were too many rough folk about robbing and Lord
knows what else. Didn’t have to sell it after all, what?” And
again evidencing good spirits, Athington laughed.

Hayden was rubbing the old gold in one hand.

“Have you heard anything of my brother, Lieutenant?” Billie asked. “Of Kit?”

“I haven’t. But Charis has, haven’t you, old girl?”

Charis clearly attempted a smile, though it was apparent
that she did not much care for being termed “old girl.”

“I heard from the Harradays, across the square, that they’d
seen him in hospital with their son-oh, three days ago. But he
was talking then about running off after the army to France.
I-I fear I have no news of his injuries, Miss Billie. I have not
left this house”

“You needn’t apologize, Miss Athington. I would never
have expected it.” She now found it difficult to sit politely. The men made some few further comments on the battle and
their shared acquaintance. Though the victory had been decisive, though word had come of Bonaparte’s abdication just
days before, the toll had been ghastly for both sides. The battle
site, Mr. Athington relayed, was a place of horror-fifteen
thousand allied soldiers dead, with a third of all the British
forces lost and at least as many French and horses.

Abruptly, and to Billie’s relief, Hayden said, “We must be
getting on. Athington, I see your eyes startin’ to close upon
me. I cannot suffer it in any man”

“No, indeed, Hayden,” the lieutenant managed wearily. His
parents thanked them as they made their way to the door. Mr.
Athington offered them the use of his open carriage with, he
apologized, a very old team. The army had requisitioned his
best cattle in May. Yet the carriage had been usefully employed
in ferrying the wounded for four days the previous week.

Charis, perhaps in her own way now “recovered,” stared
rather pointedly at Billie’s ringless left hand and then glanced
quickly through her lashes up at Hayden.

“Am Ito wish you happy, then, Miss Caswell?” she asked.

“I hope so, Miss Athington. I truly hope so.”

As they turned away from the Athingtons’ home, Billie
heard Hayden mutter ominously, “And now for Kit Caswell.”

They walked on in the wilting heat, discussing the brave
spirits of Alan Athington and his description of David Trent’s
selfless action. Billie felt little desire to see the battlefield or
the Hougoumont farm. She was indescribably discouraged.
But if she must …

`Billie dear,” Ephie asked her, “Should you like a rest first?”
But Billie denied any need for a break. Ephie also disclaimed
any interest in returning to the hotel. Both of them seemed determined to deprive Lord Hayden of reason to regret their
company.

The state of the city was appalling. Not only private houses
but churches as well had been turned into hospitals, but this generosity had scarcely alleviated the magnitude of misery.
The Athingtons had told them that, during the first days after
the battle, the people of Brussels had sent out thirty wagons
daily to collect the wounded. Those casualties who could
walk or ride had made their own way into town. And almost
all the wounded had borne further injuries or some degree
of suffering from exposure-from being stripped not only of
valuables and mementos but often as well of the simplest of
clothing. Brussels, Billie realized, had been compelled to confront the needs of an unanticipated, additional population
within its medieval gates, resulting in much heartache and
disorder.

At the allied hospital she almost hesitated to step in. Hayden kept them at a tiny office and read through the names.

“Christopher is no longer here,” he said in obvious frustration, and in response to her mute query added, “and David
never was.” He suggested they return to the hotel for some rest
and dinner. They were still in their traveling clothes from
early that morning. Hayden repeated that he had left inquiries
in every corner of the city.

“But Barton,” Billie said as they retraced their steps toward
the park, “Lord David’s batman-where can he be?”

“One hopes-with David,” Hayden replied. And they parted
silently for their rooms.

Billie and Ephie had changed for dinner and were about to
go down when Simms answered a knock at the door. Beyond
it, leaning partly upon crutches, was Kit.

“Kit!” Billie moved to him at once, relieved of at least one
worry. Though thankful, she knew she might have been happier still.

“‘Allo, Billie, Auntie.” He attempted a smile. “You might
touch me, you know-I won’t break!”

“You look-you look as though you might,” Billie said.

“Oh, but I cannot-I’ve already broken so much else!” Yet
he sounded cheerful enough. He tolerated their kisses, then settled with some care into their single upholstered chair.
“Hayden thought I ought to come up and see you at once, to
set your minds at ease. I’ve been in lodgings with several others up at the Namur gate, where Hayden’s message reached
us” His smile was still the same. Billie wondered how a man
could suffer through Waterloo and not change one whit.

“You must tell us, Christopher,” Ephie said at her most forbearing, “how you come to be sporting crutches”

“I am lucky to be sporting anything at all, Auntie-or so I’ve
been told.” He went on to relate how he’d been knocked from
his horse, broken several ribs and his ankle, been crushed and
trampled repeatedly, but never struck by musket fire or shells.
The surgeon expected he would recover fully, though they
would continue to watch him for signs of internal injuries. He
did not know if he would limp. How he had come to be so far to
the rear, strapped upon Major Trent’s horse, he hadn’t a clue.

“He must’ve put me there, though I’ve no memory of it. We
must have been at the line. I did hear some Frenchman yelling.
But all else is a blur.”

“Did you tell Hayden this?” Billie asked.

“Oh, yes. And Barton’s down with him now.”

“Barton?”

“Trent’s batman. He found me two days ago. After he found
the horse. Incendio, I think he called ‘im. And Barton sent a
letter off to Hayden. But of course, all of you were already on
your way here-”

“Barton’s not with Lord David.”

Kit gave her an odd look. “I’ve just told you, the man’s
downstairs. We’ve been invited to dinner. Then I shall stop
to see Athington and must work my way back to old General
Smallwood somehow, though this reporting right and left does
tire-”

“Everything `tires’ for you, Kit,” Billie said in sudden frustration. “You left your regiment without leave.”

“Well, yes. I imagine it appears I pulled a bit of a leg bail, given the debts. But they’ll be paid, Billie-you shall see. And
who can blame me for coming on here? Smallwood encouraged me. And, given the victory, I ‘spect all will be forgiven at
home. There’s already talk about pension payments and awards
and holidays-”

Billie sat down on the arm of his chair, interrupting his casual list of extravagant expectations. “You really remember
nothing of how you came to be on David’s horse?”

“No, Billie. As I told Hayden, I was quite without my
senses. I even had his coat about me, but I don’t recall it at all.”

“Yet he clearly assured your safety.”

“I s’pose.”

At that Billie jumped up from his chair. “You are quite
abominable, Kit Caswell! Lord David saved your life, and you
still resent him!”

Kit looked suddenly sullen. “I don’t much care to be in debt
to ‘im,” he muttered.

“In debt to him? You don’t mind being in debt to everyone
else!”

Kit struggled to rise from the chair. Watching him, Billie
felt instantly contrite. But he always made her feel so, and to
no good end.

“How long have you been perfect?” he asked crossly. “Has
the idea of becoming a marchioness gone to your head?”

“I am not `perfect,’ Kit. You know I do not think of myself
so. And I shall never be a marchioness.”

“Then what’s all this business with Hayden? I thought-”

“I doubt you did think, Kit! I wouldn’t be engaged to Hayden were it not for you. If you hadn’t been so-so rolled up by
Dumont, ‘twould never have been necessary! You must know
the engagement was to keep Dumont from seeking my portion. And now I believe David would not be missing if it
weren’t for you-running off and hoaxing, wheedling your
way where you’d no business to be! He gave his horse to you,
he gave his coat to you, and possibly possibly his life! If anything-if something has happened to him, I shall never
forgive you!” Billie could scarcely breathe. Though all of it
was the truth, she suspected it should not have been said.