Lady Phillipa's Peril: Regency Romance Suspense Series ( Book 3) (Lords of Sussex 4) (21 page)

The small house on Rue de Verne was a flurry of personal maids and abigails scuttling to and fro from the bedrooms, carrying hair tongs, newly heated from the kitchen for curls, ringlets and also the magnificent hairpieces. Following this  appeared freshly pressed petticoats, dresses and shawls; slippers decorated with precious gems, and jewels lifted carefully from dark velvet cases and placed lovingly around slender necks. Then came a frenetic search for a fashionable tiara, which was then cleaned to a high polish so that stones and silver fairly sparkled with a myriad lights.

Phillipa stood appraising her face and hair.  She wore a peach sarsnet gown trimmed with minute roses and a drapery of cream gossamer gauze,  caught and fastened down the front  with amber snaps; matching elbow length gloves and the tiara completed the ensemble. Mary stood back. ‘Oh milady tis fairly  dazzling you are. His lordship will fall at your feet.’

‘Thank you, I think I shall wear the ordinary slippers in the coach and change when we reach the ball. I don’t want to step into any horse dung with these.’ She stroked the amber gems on the satin slippers. ‘So now my reticule, and I shall be ready. How are lady Amaryllis and the twins faring?’

‘The twins are ready and fairly excited they are too. The maid is just finishing pinning the hair piece for Lady Amaryllis.’

Phillipa went along to the twins’ room to find them chattering, as they pulled bracelets of fresh flowers onto their wrists, with more in their hair. Amelia wore a white satin gown decorated with pink rosebuds and ruches of lace on the puffed sleeves whilst Lily wore one in lemon embroidered with a daisy chain pattern. ‘My dears, you look lovely enough to snare any officer’s heart tonight.’

Lily laughed, ‘Oh Phillipa you put us to the blush. But, you will be the belle of the ball, I see his grace will have to fight them off.’

Phillipa checked her reticule and the fan looped to her waist, ‘Come now, the carriage is already here.’ 

The ballroom blazed with light from a thousand candles glittering in crystal and gold chandeliers and more in the gilt wall sconces. The geometric roman style prevailed throughout the room, with columns soaring to a ceiling carved with clean cut lines and cornices. The ever popular plaster palm tree in gilt with a velvet seat surrounding it, stood at one end of the room. At the other was a dais where a set of eight musicians played, as the guests assembled, after paying their dues to the Duke and Duchess of Richmond.

Phillipa was quite overawed as Alex and Damien pointed out the leading personages of the haute monde, also, with the exception of three generals, all the high officers of Wellington’s army were there. Phillipa held her breath, it was such a magnificent setting filled with the vibrant colours of the uniforms, the scarlet of the guards, the blue of the dragoons, and the black and gold of the Brunswickers. Against them, the women’s dresses fluttered like delicate petals on the breeze.

Alex muttered, ‘No sign of the Duke yet, rumours abound, some say the French attacked the Prussians, others that they march on Mons. Quite a to do. But it seems the ball will go on.’

Damien turned to the ladies, ‘Come have cheer, there is no direct announcement from old Nosey yet so enjoy the evening.

Once seated, the men went off for the drinks. Isabella trying to break the sense of doom, chattered on, giving news of the many friends they had made when the men returned solemn of mien.

‘Why the severe expression Damien?’ Phillipa asked, taking a drink of Ratafia.

‘Hmm, I am sorry to cast a shadow over the festivities but it appears the French attacked the Prussians this morning.’

‘Nosey thinks it is a ruse about the frogs taking Charleroi, he still clings to the notion they will attack at Mons – far from here.’

Hector said, ‘True, he’s not convinced Boney will advance on Charleroi, that’s the central position.’

‘He’s waiting on news from Zeithen.’

‘Ah Etta, my dear friend, why the solemn face? ’ hailed a plump lady, richly attired in a pale blue satin dress, the trims to the short sleeves and hem  encrusted with the tiniest sapphires, her hair a  mass of dark curls enhanced with delicate ostrich feathers set in a darker blue bandana embroidered with silver threads and sapphires.

Etta said, ‘Look there is the Duchess of Eddingsworth; such a lovely lady, she has no airs and graces at all. Come let me introduce you.’

As she went forward , the duchess beamed, waving her fan, ‘Etta – dearest. How glad I am to see you. So many sombre faces, but we must make the best of it. Enjoy the ball while we may, Wellington has not given orders for the army to march.’’ 

‘Yes I must, but Drucy, you look more beautiful than ever.’ Which the little lady did, she had one of the prettiest faces on the dance hall, her figure was well rounded with a full bosom. She had not the haute aristocratic beauty, of the high forehead, aquiline nose and pointed angular jaw, nor the lissom languid body, instead, she had a wide forehead with the largest eyes under black winged eyebrows, a retrousse nose and full pouting lips.

As Isabella was already acquainted with the popular duchess, Henrietta duly introduced Phillipa and Amaryllis explaining that both were newly-wed.

‘My congratulations, and good wishes to you both.’ The duchess smiled showing white even teeth. ‘I am sure you will have wonderful time here my dears. One has one’s pick of the soirees and balls every night and of course there are the amusements, in the Park Royale. We even have some visiting mummers who are quite intriguing.  Then there is the opera house and a lively theatre. Now I must say my adieus. Perhaps we will see you at supper Etta. God willing all is well, that is.’

Henrietta clutched Phillipa’s hand. ‘You see how sweet people are here? It such a friendly lively place, so different from quiet countryside of Sussex.’

Phillipa watched the duchess depart with a retinue of ardent followers in her wake. ‘Why, what a delightful woman Etta. ‘

‘Yes, I met her when we travelled overland from Ghent to here. She very kindly gave me some dresses when I lost mine in the river. I did try to reimburse her  but she would not countenance it; she said friendship has no price. You know, the officers and generals alike adore her, and she is even a favourite of the dour King Frederick. Many a besotted officer serenades her at night which her husband the Duke finds quite touching and amusing. It takes him back to his early youth as a young ensign.’

Amaryllis radiant in green sarsnet overlaid with a lighter shade of sheer spider web laughed, clipping shut her fan, ‘She is indeed a fine lady.’ Looking around she said,  ‘At least it is not a crush, there is room to dance.  But oh look, they are striking up the quadrille, the Duchess of Richmond is taking the floor with her son Lord March.’

They watched with delight as two young officers advanced on the twins whirling them off onto the dance floor.

Henrietta murmured, ‘They are so popular, their dance cards are full. I am so glad I brought them with us to Brussels.’

‘I must admit mine is too. ‘Amaryllis said glancing down at her card, and looking around for her partner.

Henrietta replied, ‘I see the Lennox sisters are all here, they looked quite lovely.

‘Well I must admit I have no fancy for the cotillion, and I hope they don’t play it.’ Phillipa quipped.

As she spoke, a tall young officer appeared at her side, ‘I have come to claim my dance ma’am.’ he smiled showing brilliant white teeth in a dashing smile.

The next two hours fled in a whirl of country dances, waltzes, and the occasional minuet, followed by a frantic Scottish reel.  Officers consistently cut in on a dance, taking over the last part. Yet the pall of the encroaching war cloaked the festivities.

In a lull, Phillipa putting down her drink turned to Isabella, ‘D’you know I keep on seeing some of the officers making their excuses and slipping away from the ball. The rumours of imminent war abound, tis quite frightening you know. But when you ask if it is true, they just pretend ignorance and say it is such a jolly evening, and we should make the most of it .’

Isabella frowned, ‘More and more people are looking so serious, even though others try to laugh and pretend nothing is happening.’

Picking up her drink, Phillipa glanced toward the musicians conferring on the next dance, when she espied a tall dark figure standing by them, partly hidden by a column. He was staring at her with that despicable sneer. There was no mistaking him, it was Demetrius.

Amaryllis cut through her thoughts. ‘Oh dear, I cannot bear to think of Hector  going to war. He insists he will fight, his arm is not so bad now, but he still suffers with his leg and can hardly walk.’

Phillipa’s mind raced; Hector was some seats away, should she tell him? The others went off to talk with some other officers. No, t’would only cause a disturbance, best left alone. Demetrius would not have the gall to approach anyway. She turned her attention to the soldiers from the Scottish regiments performing the Highland Fling. Officers followed this with a performance of Highland Dances. A lady at her side, fanning her reddened face, explained the Duchess of Richmond arranged it, as her father the Duke of Gordon was a scot.

Phillipa barely listened, as her mind whirled. She looked over again to see Demetrius had disappeared. Perhaps it was best. They would be bound to see him from time to time, as he and Hector were in the same regiment. Then the thought struck her, oh dear God, would Demetrius try to harm Hector on the battlefield, was that his ghastly plan? She bit her lip, Hector was injured and could only hold a gun with one hand. But surely others would see it if Demetrius tried anything. But thereagain, battle was such a fierce arena. She shook her head trying to dispel the flurry of fears. 

Glancing up, she saw Alex, followed by Ambros and Damien walking rapidly towards them, their expressions ominous.  ‘Wellington has confirmed the rumours; the army is off tomorrow.’

‘He is sequestered with his advisors.’ Damien added. ‘Napoleon crossed the border at Thuin, just before dawn today, the generals presumed he was going to Mons or thereabouts.’

‘Yes, it seems old Nosey is awaiting news, as to whether Charleroi is taken.’ Ambros said, his face grim.

‘If that happens, the Corsican could split up our coalition forces – damn and blast.’ Alex said.

A young officer rushed past them dragging a pretty young girl with him, and ran up to a dowager seated only feet away. ‘Mama, I am off; I have orders to join my regiment.’

The young girl tried to smile, but within  seconds, burst into tears, whilst the dowager’s face turned white. The officer pulled the girl her into his arms, ‘Clarrissa dearest, fear not. It will soon be over, and I will be at your side once more. Now kiss me, and wish me well.’

Ambros turned to the others. ‘I shall attend old Boney and see what is going on.’

At that moment a couple of the generals bade their wives farewell, and surrounded with officers, left the ball.

Within minutes, Damien returned with Alex. ‘We must take our leave, Old Nosey’s ordered our regiment to deploy near to Nivelles and Quatre bras; the Prince of Orange holds a tenuous position there.’

Hector made to stand up, but Ambros put his hand on his shoulder, ‘Look old chap; we need to get the ladies home, it would be better if you stayed—’

‘Oh no, you’re not putting me off like that. I shall join my regiment.’

‘But Hector,’ Amaryllis cried, ‘you can hardly walk, and then your arm—’

‘Please Hector, listen to Amaryllis.’ Phillipa echoed her sentiments,

‘I can ride a horse, and I can carry a rifle dammit. You are not holding me back. There are enough amputees in the army and the cavalry, whereas I only have superficial wounds, so cut me a line here.’

Damien bowed, conceding defeat. ‘Very well, then we shall ride together.’

Phillipa stood up. ‘But, I thought you were with the medical corps Damien?’

‘Yes I am m’dear, but I will be there for the first casualties and believe me, there will be many. Then there are the shelters and huts for the wounded, I shall have to get things moving; I shouldn’t imagine there are many outbuildings to hold the casualties.’

‘Then I shall go with you.’ Phillipa said quietly.

‘What?’ Damien asked; his eyebrows raised.

‘I said I shall go with you.’

‘What on earth do you mean?’

‘You know what I mean. I shall help you save the wounded.’

‘For deuce sake Phillipa. We do not have time for this.’ His voice became terse, his jaw tightening.

‘I agree, so let us make haste.’

‘Hmm, we have to go by the house for me to pick up my things, and we can talk there.’ he said, taking her arm firmly.

As the coach sped to their house, the twins remained silent, Isabella had gone back with Henrietta and Ambros. If Phillipa knew them, they too would be having the same argument.’

As the carriage drew up to the house, Damien almost jumped out, and pulling down the step, helped the women alight.   Pounding on the front door, he was admitted by an obsequious butler who stood aside, as he raced through the hallway, and up the stairs to the bedroom.  Phillipa followed him, shutting the door behind her.

‘I thought you said you would not be taking part in the fray?’ Phillipa said, watching him pack a small portmanteau, whilst seizing weapons to take with him.

‘I shall enter the battle at any time to retrieve the wounded and the dying, so it could be I have to fight to get to them.’

Seeing her face whiten, he sighed and walked across. ‘My darling; you cannot do this it is unheard of.’

‘Don’t lie – you know a few women fight in the battle and I shall be one of them.  The French do as a matter of course.’

‘You’re talking of camp followers.’

‘No I am not, you’re fibbing again.  Titled ladies do as well.’

‘It is rare for the English, please forbear on this.’

‘Many wives follow their husbands to the battleground; some watch from the side, and a few fight with them.’ With that she went over to her trunk, and began lifting out her dresses. 

‘My dear, you would be in the way, you would not know what to do. We have never discussed this.’

‘I can help you in many ways; it doesn’t take much commonsense to see what is needed. As she spoke, she lifted out the scarlet uniform. 

Looking over, Damien froze to the spot. ‘What on earth are you about madam? Do not cut up my peace like this.  Come now.’

‘If you will not undo my buttons, then I shall call on Mary,’ she said frostily, her expression determined.

‘Do not give that militant look Phillipa, I order you now to desist from this; people will think you and I are dicked in the nob.’

In answer, Phillipa lifted the cord to summon the maid.

‘If you do not allow me to accompany you, then I shall go alone and help at the side of the field or wherever  there is fighting. I know for a fact many of the women will be out on the street looking for the wounded to return. Many will drag them to their homes, or take them to shelters so just carry on. You go about your needs, and I will tend to mine.’

Damien’s face went white. ‘I will have enough to attend to without trying to protect you.’

‘Don’t be so insulting. You knew what I was about before you married me. Don't recant now.’

Damien swallowed, his throat dry; the woman was impossible. He was terrified of losing her to loose bullets; he could not  bear to think of the wounds inflicted upon that delicate frame. He knew what a musket ball could do, let alone a canon that would tear a body to pieces.’

As Phillipa lifted the cord to ring for the maid, he breathed heavily. ‘Very well – very well. For God’s sake – you are doing it much too brown you know, don’t you?’

‘No I am doing my duty.’

‘But you have no training woman. You an—’

‘Stop calling me woman, it is insulting, of course I have no experience, but it doesn’t take any teaching to lift a soldier.  I could also tear up bandages, or help  wash their wounds.’

‘There won’t be any time for washing, they’ll be queuing up screaming for me to stitch them, saw off a limb – put a skull back together again, throw a decapitated head—’

‘Now you’re being dramatic. You do the cutting – I ’ll do the washing.’ she said fiercely trying not to show the shock of his words.

Striding over, he pulled her around and began undoing the numerous buttons, untying ribbons and tags and again, the same with her petticoats. He growled, ‘You will be fagged out before you know it, besides, my fellow officers will think I’m a right gammon or foxed to the hilt.’

‘I don’t give a fudge what your officers think. I am there to do a job for my fellow man. So there is an end to it.’

Putting on a shirt, she buttoned it up with deft fingers, then tucked it into  the breeches. Unpinning the long locks that fell to her waist, she sat on a chair to pull on the gaiters.

‘Come let me.’ Damien said gruffly, helping her.  As he finished she stood, and then crossed to the dressing table. Picking up a pair of lethal looking scissors, she grabbed a bunch of her hair.

Moving quickly, Damien clutched at her hand, removing the scissors, ‘Oh no, this is where I insist, you will not cut off your bloody hair, just pin it up and push it under the helmet.’

Phillip smiled slightly, so he was submitting to the inevitable.  She stood mutely, as he tucked in the last stray curls and adjusted her helmet. ‘Where in hell did you find all this?’

‘Err … it was Hector’s. I had the uniform cut down for me, when I heard he was to travel to Brussels.’

‘So he was agreeable to you going into battle by his side?’

‘No – he knew nothing. Being the Corinthian he is, he would argue black and blue. So I determined to let him go on the field, and then I would follow him. I know that one man incurred Wellington’s displeasure, when he overheard him castigating his wife who wished to follow him onto the field. So Hector could hardly disagree within sight of the Duke could he?’

As she turned to him, Damien caught his breath, she did indeed look like a youth, a slim boy with a hauntingly beautiful face. ‘You’ll do.’ he said grumpily, ‘but for God’s sake stay close to me.’

Phillipa sighed, why were men so bloody patronizing?