Supervising Sally (18 page)

Pushing aside any decision, he went to the embassy. There he found all in uproar. Seizing the shoulder of a messenger
hurrying past, he demanded to know what all the fuss was about.

‘Sir, we've just heard!'

‘That seems obvious. Heard what?'

The man gulped, waved the sheet of paper he was carrying. ‘Sir, I must deliver this note at once.'

‘It will help you on your way if you answer my question. What is causing all this commotion?'

‘It's Bonaparte, sir. Marshal Ney promised the king he'd bring him back to Paris in an iron cage.'

‘Yes?' Zachary was unable to go on. Had Bonaparte been captured? Was it all over?

‘He's joined him.'

‘You mean – Ney has joined Napoleon?'

‘Yes, sir, we just heard.'

Zachary closed his eyes. This was desperate news. Bonaparte's appeal to one of his oldest and best marshals had transformed the situation. Before, he would have been relatively easy to overcome. Now, in all probability, Ney's defection would encourage hundreds, thousands more to rejoin their former commander. He would be planning to regain his former conquests in Belgium and Italy. It seemed as though war was inevitable.

P
HOEBE MANAGED TO find Sir William alone after breakfast.

Sally was in her room trying to decide which gown she would wear that evening, while her father retreated to the small room he called his study. She knocked on the door and was bade enter.

He looked up from some papers he was reading, and raised his eyebrows.

‘Well, Miss Kingston? Trouble? Is my daughter causing problems?'

‘Not at all, Sir William,' Phoebe replied, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. Why should Sir William assume, because she wished to speak with him, that Sally was causing trouble? Did he want some excuse for sending them back to England?

‘Then what is it?'

‘It's Sally's eighteenth birthday in April,' Phoebe told him, and he nodded. ‘I wondered whether she could have a party, a dance perhaps, if we can find a suitable venue.'

He looked irritated. ‘She goes to balls almost every night, I believe. Why does she need another one?'

‘This is her come-out, Sir William. In the normal way she would have had a ball in London, as all debutantes do, to formally introduce them to Society.'

Phoebe felt as though she were instructing some rustic farmer in the ways of the
ton
, and suppressed her frown. Sir William knew what was expected of him. She hurried on.

‘This isn't a normal year. Many of the people she would expect to invite to such a ball are here, in Brussels, so I thought it would be appropriate to hold a dance for her here.'

‘That's her mother's responsibility.'

Phoebe lost all patience. ‘Her mother is not in Brussels, nor likely to be. Do you wish Sally to be deprived of the normal pleasures she might feel entitled to because you and her mother are at odds? I will organize the affair; you need not be concerned in the arrangements.'

‘Apart from paying for it, I suppose, or do you intend to provide the means yourself?'

‘It seems to me a father's duty to introduce his daughter to the
ton
in a suitable manner.'

He stared at her in silence for a moment, and Phoebe wondered whether she had gone too far, and allowed her annoyance to ruin the prospects of him agreeing. Then he nodded, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

‘You are right, I suppose, Miss Kingston, but this house is far too small for the sort of party you envisage.'

‘Thank you. I know the house would not do, but I can look for a more suitable room, in a hotel, perhaps.'

‘There's no need. My friend, Madame Antoine, has a house with a large ballroom attached. She will be only too delighted to loan it to you. Here,' he added, turning to the desk and writing on a sheet of paper, ‘this is her direction, and a note to ask her permission to use the ballroom. Will you arrange it with her?'

Phoebe wanted to protest, and through her mind tumbled distressing thoughts of what the earl would say, but from the sardonic look on Sir William's face she knew that this was Sally's only chance of a ball. If she rejected it, Sally would
lose all opportunity of a proper come-out. If she accepted, the speculations about Sir William's involvement with Madame Antoine would be proven correct.

He was old enough to make his own decisions, she decided. His behaviour had already given rise to comment, and he must be aware that this would only fuel the rumours.

‘Thank you. I will visit Madame Antoine as soon as possible and arrange a suitable day with her.'

‘Ask for her help. She knows everyone here, what tradesmen to use, and she will be delighted to do something for Sally.'

Zachary was kept busy during the following days. News filtered through, and was far from encouraging. As they had feared, Ney's defection from the king's service encouraged others to join Napoleon. More monarchists fled from Paris, and it soon became difficult to find rooms in Brussels, despite many English visitors having left for towns further away from the anticipated invasion.

‘He said he'd fight for Belgium, that's what he told a visitor while he was still on Elba, and Brussels is too close to Paris for comfort,' one old lady told Zachary.

On the surface the embassy staff and the military remained calm and tried to reassure people that Napoleon and his army would be halted long before they could reach Brussels. They knew that a wholesale evacuation of visitors would only give comfort to Napoleon's supporters in Belgium, and perhaps increase support for him.

King Louis remained in Paris until the last possible moment. He finally left in the evening of 19 March, the day before Napoleon once more took possession. Reports came of how Bonaparte had been carried shoulder-high into the
Tuileries, without any opposition. And then very little information came through from France.

From Vienna came news that the Congress had declared him an outlaw, then that the powers had formed an alliance against him. To Zachary's relief, the Duke of Wellington was given command of the army in Flanders, and they eagerly awaited his arrival in Brussels. He came at the beginning of April and began the task of financing and positioning the troops he had, while attempting to gather more.

Two men who were not pleased were the Prince of Orange, who had been the Commander in Chief of these soldiers, and his father, King William. They were surrounded by officials who had been in the service of France for many years, but they eventually gave way and reluctantly accepted Wellington's appointment as Commander in Chief.

Zachary was privy to the problems the duke was experiencing, but in public was as reassuring as possible. It was safe to remain in Brussels, he insisted, and truly believed it. If anyone could prevent Napoleon from recapturing Belgium it was Wellington.

The balls and concerts continued, and Brussels was still full of people determined not to show any fear of Bonaparte. Wellington himself appeared on many occasions, and gave his own entertainments.

‘He is not at all as I expected,' Phoebe commented on one occasion when she had watched the duke talking to some ladies who all hung on his words. ‘I believe he is a ladies' man.'

Zachary laughed. ‘Don't all ladies love a hero?'

‘His wife went to England, from Paris,' Phoebe said. ‘I would have thought it her duty to be with him.'

‘I think she can have some influence in London. There are men in the Opposition who dislike him, and they cannot be allowed to hamper him in what needs to be done here. He has problems enough.'

‘What sort of problems?'

Zachary found it easy to talk to Phoebe. She was intelligent, asked sensible questions, and swiftly appreciated his explanations.

‘The army here is inexperienced, especially the Dutch. Many of our best regiments are unavailable, they are in America or elsewhere. King William will not agree to anything suggested, he seems to delight in being obstructive. Slender Billy resents being superseded by the duke as commander. Wellington was very anxious, before he arrived, in case the prince acted too soon. We are not officially at war.'

‘Not? But the armies are gathering, how can we not be?'

‘Until one side invades the territory of the other war has not officially been declared.'

Phoebe shook her head in disbelief. ‘I suppose that is the legal position, but it seems ridiculous when everyone is preparing to fight.'

‘You are not afraid? You don't wish to go home?'

‘Everyone who leaves Brussels gives comfort to that monster! Sir William is happy we stay, and I would hate to be thought a coward. Besides, it is Sally's ball next week.'

‘I had not forgotten it. At Madame Antoine's,' he said, trying to keep his voice neutral.

‘It was Sir William's suggestion, and I could not object without risking Sally not having a dance at all.'

‘Of course not.'

Phoebe looked at him rather doubtfully. ‘You will come?'

‘I will be there. May I have the supper dance with you?'

Phoebe had been surprised at how friendly and helpful Madame Antoine was. She applauded Phoebe's plan, sat down with her to decide what needed to be done, and
suggested that since she knew the tradesmen in Brussels who would supply the food and drink and decorations, she would look after all of that while Phoebe and Sally made lists of who was to be invited and sent out invitations.

‘And you need to have your gowns made, of course. I will introduce you to my own favourite modiste, and make sure she will complete them in good time.'

Sally chose a pale cream satin trimmed with deeper cream ruching and embroidery around the hem. ‘I don't want white,' she decided. ‘It makes me look too pale.'

Phoebe chose a sarsenet woven in two shades of pale green, with no trimming other than a darker green ribbon threaded at the neckline and below the bodice. When Madame Antoine came to inspect them she nodded her approval.

‘Excellent taste, my dears. Your papa will be proud of you, Sally.'

‘I wish Mama were here to see me,' Sally said later to Phoebe. ‘She doesn't believe I'm grown up now.'

‘Have you written to tell her about the ball?'

‘Yes, but she has not replied. I don't suppose she is interested, ' Sally said, a wistful note in her voice.

It was the first time she had shown any sign of being concerned by her mother's attitude. Lady Drayton had told Phoebe Sally's mother found her a nuisance, and Phoebe had gained the impression Sally was pleased to be away from home.

‘The letter might have gone astray,' she said. ‘The postal service between here and England might be having difficulties. So many people are trying to cross the Channel.'

‘Do you think so?'

Sally looked slightly more cheerful, but an hour later Phoebe discovered her in the parlour writing a second letter to her mother.

‘If the first one went astray, I had better send another,' she said. ‘It won't be in time for Mama to reply before the ball, though.'

‘You can write and tell her all about it afterwards.'

Sally nodded, but did not seem overjoyed at the prospect. Phoebe went to the bureau and got out her list of all the people who had been invited.

‘Have we had any more acceptances?' she asked.

‘A few. I put the notes over there. The Bradshaw sisters have accepted, and I was so hoping they might have gone back to England.'

‘We had to invite them. It would have been a dreadful snub not to. Has Reginald returned from Ghent, do you know? He went there again after he'd found rooms for them in the hotel.'

‘Yes, and he's coming too. Phoebe, he wrote he would be delighted to partner me in one of the country dances. What shall I do? I don't at all wish to dance with him!'

‘Then you had better make sure your dance card is full before he asks you. I don't think there will be any problem with that, judging by how many of the soldiers have accepted invitations!'

Sally smiled, then shrugged. ‘If they can come. Henry says there are a hundred thousand men strung out to the south of Brussels, but the duke may change where they are positioned. He wants more men to the west, in case Napoleon tries to swing past him. He's putting his more experienced soldiers in between the Dutch and Belgian troops, because many of them are quite inexperienced, and some are mercenaries and perhaps not to be trusted.'