The Officer and the Proper Lady

‘But the ball—you cannot miss the Duchess of Richmond’s ball, it will one of the high lights of the month,’ Mrs Tresilian lamented. ‘Well, so she thinks,’ Julia said with a smile, recalling one of Lady Geraldine’s catty observations. ‘Apparently the duke is teasing her Grace by referring to their house as the Wash House—because it is on the Rue de la Blanchisserie.’

‘Even so,’ her mother said, ‘a ball given by a duchess is not to be sneered at.’ They looked at the clock. The hands stood at just after two.

‘If it goes ahead. We should pack. And then have our dinner at six.’ Julia began to move around the room, making piles of those things which should be taken and things that could remain. It was essential that Mama and Philip were ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

‘Very well, dear,’ Mrs Tresilian got to her feet. ‘I will write a note for the baron. I just hope we can get the laundry back before we have to set out.’

Packing did not take as long as Julia had feared. Her mother, apparently prepared for headlong flight, intended to travel light with a few changes of clothing and all their items of value, which, as they largely consisted of a few pieces of jewellery, bank notes and lace, took up very little space. She went through the motions of packing her own bag, silent about the audacious idea that had come to her last night in the carriage. But she had to make sure Mama and Phillip were safe first.

They had just sat down to dinner when their land lady knocked and announced Mrs Cairns and Mrs Templeton, two of Mrs Tresilian’s closest friends.

‘My dears—’ Mrs Cairns waved aside offers of a glass of wine ‘—are you not leaving? The officers are riding around, the men are forming up all over the place-everyone is going!’

‘They say the French have attacked the Prussians at Charleroi,’ Mrs Templeton, a faded blonde, chipped in. ‘One hundred thousand French troops!’

Charleroi, Julia guessed, was perhaps a day’s march away. Or less. Her mouth went dry. Antwerp suddenly sounded very enticing.

‘We will leave first thing in the morning,’ Mrs Tresilian said, the sparkling prospect of the ducal ball for her daughter still over-riding rumours of the French advance in her mind. ‘Julia has been invited to the Duchess of Richmond’s ball.’

‘Along with all those floosies the Duke of Wellington has prevailed upon her to send cards to,’ Mrs Cairns said waspishly. ‘Lady John Campbell, for one.’

‘Julia will be under Lady Geraldine’s cha per on age,’ Mrs Tresilian said, her chin up. ‘Do you both leave for Antwerp this evening?’

‘Most certainly,’ Mrs Templeton said. ‘We are going together in an hour. It is almost impossible to find a team of horses now: I thank heavens that Mr Templeton bought one last week.’

‘Then we will see you in Antwerp,?

? Julia said with a smile, wishing they would leave and not continue to over-excite Phillip who was sitting there, his eyes like saucers with all the drama. ‘I will show you out, you must not linger.’ She closed the door behind them and came back to the table. ‘What time did the baron say he would collect us tomorrow morning?’

‘I said we would be ready at eight. I am afraid you are going to get very little sleep, my dear.’ Mrs Tresilian began to carve the cooling chicken.

‘That doesn’t matter, Mama,’ Julia said, tucking a napkin into Phillip’s collar as he squirmed on his chair. ‘I suspect no-one will for the next few days.’

Chapter Twelve

‘I was quite expecting to receive a note from you to say that you were about to leave the city,’ Lady Geraldine remarked as her footman closed the carriage door at ten o’clock. ‘Did you hear the gunfire to the south?’

‘I think so—it was very distant. Perhaps it was thunder. Mama has arranged with the baron for him to call at eight tomorrow morning,’ Julia said, care fully smoothing down the fine tissue of her skirts. The new gown—semi-transparent white silk over jonquil yellow with a draped bodice of white lace—felt too fragile to move in. ‘Will you leave the city, ma’am?’

‘We will go to friends who have a chateau some ten miles to the north,’ Lady Geraldine said. ‘I expect we will leave a little later than you. My husband has the grooms with shotguns guarding the horses against looters. I do hope the baron is taking similar precautions.’

It was a short drive down the hill to the large house the Richmonds had taken. ‘It used to be a carriage builder’s establishment,’ Lady Geraldine observed acidly. ‘No doubt we will be ac com mo dated in some barn.’

The barn turned out to be the former carriage showroom which seemed, to Julia’s curious eyes, quite well disguised with hangings and a podium for the band. When they finally managed to reach the doors, after a long queue in the street and an even longer one in the receiving line, the noise from within was considerable but, as they moved through the doors, Julia thought she heard the sound of bugles and drums from outside.

‘They are sounding the assembly,’ a civilian guest remarked, and Julia strained her ears until the noise of over two hundred people and an orchestra over whelmed any other sound.

She supposed it was really no different from any other ball that had take place in Brussels over the past month. But the atmosphere was utterly changed, as though everyone was waiting for some momentous announcement, yet were united in a great conspiracy to pretend that they were doing nothing of the kind.

There was no sign of Hal. Had she seen the last of him before the battle? Or ever? Julia closed her eyes against a moment of panic, then opened them to find one of the aides de camp, whose name had completely gone from her head, offering his hand for the next dance.

So she danced and chatted and smiled until her feet, her head and her lips ached and re hearsed over and over what she as going to do tomorrow.

The band ended the waltz they were playing and put down their instruments. The duchess stepped onto the podium and clapped her hands. ‘The Gordon Highlanders!’ she announced to a flurry of applause. It was drowned out in the skirl of sound as a tall pipe-major marched into the hall with four kilted sergeants magnificent behind him.

Julia had never heard pipe music before. Slightly stunned by the effect in a crowded room, she began to make her way back through the crowd towards the chaperones’ corner.

‘Don’t you like the pipes?’ an amused voice by her left ear asked.