5 A Very Murdering Battle (22 page)

‘Our intelligence is that he sent his siege train by river to Brussels and will bring it south to Mons. That will move slowly,’ noted Villars. ‘It might not get here until the end of the month.’

‘Then it will be far too late,’ said Boufflers, smiling. ‘By that time, you’ll have defeated the Allied army and saved Mons into the bargain. It will be wonderful news for me to take back to Versailles.’

Scanning the potential battlefield, Villars was brimming with confidence.

‘It’s a victory that will echo around the whole of Europe,’ he said, striking a pose. ‘In offering him battle, I’m giving the illustrious captain-general what he most ardently seeks. In the three previous encounters, he’s put a French army to flight. That won’t be the case here,’ he stressed. ‘With our fortifications improving by the hour, we have advantages here at Malplaquet. I can’t wait to reap the benefits from them.’

With a battle in the offing, Daniel dashed off a letter to Amalia. It was not simply a means of sending his love and giving her a succinct account of the fall of Tournai, it was a possible last bequest. In case anything tragic befell him in combat, he wanted her to have a memento of him. Daniel didn’t fear the encounter. If anything, he was too eager for it to take place. But he knew how much Amalia worried about him and he wanted her to know how much he missed and thought about her. Having handed over the letter to be taken to Amsterdam with other correspondence, he rode to the area of the camp reserved for the 24
^th
Foot and looked for Henry Welbeck. He located the sergeant in a familiar situation, exchanging verbal blows with Leo Curry. When he saw Daniel coming to interrupt them, Curry laughed derisively at Welbeck before strutting away like a turkey cock.

‘What was all that about?’ asked Daniel, dismounting.

‘It was nothing, Dan.’

‘Sergeant Curry looked as if he’d just won an argument.’

‘He’s always trying to crow over me,’ said Welbeck, ‘but it’s meaningless. Leo has the brain of a simpleton and the stupidity to match.’ He appraised his friend. ‘I hear that we may actually face the Frenchies in battle.’

‘Marshal Villars has thrown down the gauntlet.’

Welbeck groaned. ‘We haven’t fully recovered from the siege of Tournai yet, let alone the long march to get here. We’re close to exhaustion.’

‘The sound of the drums will put fresh energy into you.’

‘It will just make me want to puke.’

‘You’re usually ready to stand your ground in a fight.’

‘I lost too many good men in the siege,’ said Welbeck. ‘There are times when a battle should be avoided. This is one of them.’

‘I’ll pass your opinion on to His Grace,’ joked Daniel.

‘He doesn’t care what
I
think.’

‘He cares for what you represent, Henry, and that’s the rank and file. Nobody shows as much concern for his troops.’

‘Then why did he let so many of us get killed and maimed at Tournai?’

‘It wasn’t in his power to prevent the slaughter,’ said Daniel, sadly. ‘Sieges always produce a large butcher’s bill.’ His tone lightened. ‘By the way, have you seen Rachel yet?’

‘I had that misfortune.’

‘Don’t be so hostile to her. Rachel Rees is an extraordinary woman.’

‘You know my view,’ said Welbeck. ‘I abhor women, extraordinary or not.’

‘She told me that she left some rum for you as a gift.’

‘I threw it away.’

‘Come now,’ said Daniel, jocularly, ‘even you would never do that. You drank it, didn’t you? Be honest about it, Henry.’

‘I may have had a sip,’ conceded the sergeant.

‘And did you remember to thank her for the gift?’

‘How could I know that it came from her?’

Daniel laughed. ‘How many other women shower you with flasks of rum?’

Welbeck was embarrassed. He’d both drunk and enjoyed the gift from Rachel but hadn’t been able to offer her any thanks. After his last encounter with her, he was having regrets. The very least that she deserved was an expression of gratitude, if only coupled with the request to refrain from giving him anything else in the future. It was simple courtesy. When – as he perceived it – he was Rachel’s sole target, he defended himself by falling back on rudeness. Now that she’d sparked off interest in another man, however, Welbeck’s mind was in turmoil. Had it been anybody other than Leo Curry, it might not have mattered, but he couldn’t tolerate the thought of having Rachel whipped away from under his nose by a man with whom he was routinely at odds. Before he could stop himself, he heard an apology tumble from his lips.

‘I’m sorry, Dan,’ he said, shuffling his feet. ‘I ought to have thanked her. Perhaps you could do so on my behalf.’

Daniel was firm. ‘No, Henry,’ he insisted. ‘If you’ve something to tell her, then you must tell it to her yourself. I’m not your intercessor.’

‘I don’t know how to talk to women.’

‘Then it’s an art you must learn.’

‘It’s much easier to keep them out of my life.’

‘You didn’t keep Beatrix at bay,’ Daniel reminded him. ‘When we stayed in Amsterdam, you got to like her. I often saw the pair of you talking together.’

‘She doesn’t frighten me like Rachel Rees.’

‘Behind all that bluster, I fancy that you’re quite fond of her.’

‘No, I’m not,’ said Welbeck with sudden force. He became apologetic once more. ‘But I will try to thank her for the rum, if the occasion arises.’

‘Make sure that you do, Henry. It won’t cost you anything.’

Welbeck sensed that it would cost him a great deal but he wasn’t prepared to discuss his innermost feelings. Since Daniel was part of the captain-general’s staff, the sergeant wanted to know when and where the battle would take place and what sort of odds they’d be facing. He was also interested to hear about the appearance of Marshal Boufflers, a commander whose stout defence of Lille had earned him Welbeck’s respect. Daniel told him what they’d gleaned from the captive Marquis de Cheldon and what their scouts had reported about French movements. He explained that a battle was now inevitable. It made Welbeck resolve to speak to Rachel before he marched off to take on the enemy. He didn’t want to perish in combat with her kindness unacknowledged.

After taking his leave, Daniel mounted his horse and rode off. Before he could duck into his tent, Welbeck saw Ben Plummer approaching with long strides. His first instinct was to turn away. Ever since he’d rescued Plummer during an assault on the citadel in Tournai, he’d been the unwilling recipient of the man’s gratitude. The private thanked him day after day and it became tiresome. There was a benefit. As a result of his experience at Tournai, Plummer had turned from being an insolent
mischief-maker
into a competent soldier. Welbeck was in no mood for another salvo of thanks but curiosity made him wait for his visitor. Plummer’s appearance was eye-catching. Most of the troops had torn and sullied their uniforms during the siege and Plummer had done the same. When rescued by Welbeck, he’d been filthy and bedraggled. Yet here he was now, smartly attired in a new uniform and marching along as if he was on parade.

‘What do you want?’ asked Welbeck. ‘If it’s to go on about what happened at the siege, you can save your breath to cool your porridge. I want no more thanks.’

‘I wasn’t about to give you any, Sergeant,’ said Plummer.

‘Praise the Lord!’

‘I came on an errand.’

Welbeck studied him. ‘Where did you get this new uniform from?’

‘I bought it.’

‘How could you afford something like that?’

Plummer smirked. ‘I told you. I had an inheritance.’

‘The only thing you ever inherited was the pox from those whores of yours.’

‘Those days are behind me, Sergeant. I’m a reformed character now.’

‘So where did your money come from?’ pressed Welbeck. ‘Did you find it under a tree or did it drop out of heaven right in front of you?’

‘My uncle died. I was his favourite nephew.’ Welbeck gave a mirthless laugh. ‘But I didn’t come to discuss my good fortune. I brought something for you.’

Welbeck was cautious. ‘Is this some kind of jest?’

‘Not at all,’ said Plummer, taking something from his pocket. ‘Rachel Rees asked me to give this to you.’ He handed over a flask of rum. ‘She left a similar one for you weeks ago but is afraid that someone stole it from your tent. You obviously didn’t get it or you’d have said something to her.’

‘Yes, yes, I would …’

The sergeant felt more than a twinge of guilt. He was also mortified that Plummer had been used as the messenger. Yet the private didn’t ridicule him as he’d done on previous occasions when Rachel’s name had come into the conversation. Having run his errand, he was about to go. Something made Plummer hesitate.

‘Is there any message?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ said Welbeck, astonished at the affection with which he spoke. ‘Please give the lady my thanks. Her gift is appreciated.’

Ever since she and Daniel Rawson had been so close, Amalia had never shown the slightest interest in another man. Her mind was filled with pleasant memories of the time they’d spent together and fervent hopes for their future together. She fell asleep musing about Daniel and woke up wondering where he was at that precise moment and whether or not he was thinking about her. If Amalia was largely unaware of anybody else who had feelings for her, Beatrix was not. Bustling around the Janssen household, she saw everything that was going on and took note of it. Little escaped her shrewd gaze. As she and Amalia were enjoying a walk that morning, she broached a subject that she felt needed airing.

‘When will Kees return to work?’ she asked.

‘Oh, I think he’ll be well enough in a day or two.’

‘Nick has been to see him several times.’

‘Yes,’ said Amalia. ‘I didn’t realise he was so considerate.’

‘He and Kees have never been particular friends.’

‘That’s why it’s so admirable of him, Beatrix. He was the person who picked Kees up when he collapsed and he carried him all the way up to his room. It was a real effort.’

‘He’d willingly make it for you.’

Amalia laughed. ‘It was Kees he was carrying, not me.’

‘You were the one he wanted to impress,’ said Beatrix. ‘And while he likes Kees enough to be sorry about his illness, he really enjoys coming into the house because it gives him a chance to see you.’

‘Oh, I don’t think that’s true,’ said Amalia, dismissively.

‘I’ve watched him.’

‘Nick is one of Father’s employees. We speak from time to time and he’s never been anything but polite and attentive.’

Beatrix was upset. ‘Forget that I mentioned his name.’

‘You’re making a wrong assumption, that’s all.’

‘Then let’s talk about something else.’

‘No,’ said Amalia, placating her with a smile, ‘this obviously means something to you or you wouldn’t have raised it with me. I know that you’re aware of things that pass me by completely and I can’t help it. My head is in the clouds.’

‘Mine would be if Captain Rawson was dancing attendance on
me
.’

Amalia giggled. ‘I wouldn’t say that he danced attendance, Beatrix. He does that to His Grace, perhaps, but I see far too little of him. Coming back to Nick Geel,’ she went on, ‘I’d like to hear your opinion of him.’

‘He’s friendly, hard-working and very loyal.’

‘That would be my estimate of him as well.’

‘He’s very ambitious.’

‘I regard that as a good thing.’

Beatrix took a deep breath then blurted out her claim. ‘I think he’s in love with you, Miss Amalia.’

‘That’s nonsense,’ said Amalia. ‘He likes me, of course. I’ve never given him cause to
dislike
me, but that’s as far as it goes, Beatrix. He knows quite well that I’m spoken for and he’s met Daniel a number of times. No,’ she added, meditatively, ‘I really can’t see Nick as an admirer. He’s more like a brother to me. And he probably looks upon me as a kind of sister.’

‘I disagree. I’ve heard the way his voice changes when he talks about you.’

‘You’re mistaken. I’m no more than a friend to him.’

‘Be warned,’ said Beatrix. ‘He adores you.’

‘I don’t believe that for a second. I’m usually impressed by the way you can judge people but you’ve made a mistake this time. Weeks go by when I don’t even catch a glimpse of Nick.’

‘But when you do see him, it’s because he’s contrived it.’

Amalia came to a halt and turned to face her. ‘You make him sound as if he’s stalking me,’ she said, ‘and that’s ridiculous. It would never cross Nick’s mind to do that. He values his position here and rightly so. He knows what a privilege it is to work for my father and he’d never do anything to jeopardise that.’

‘I still think I’m right,’ muttered Beatrix.

‘It’s a silly idea.’

‘You don’t know him as well as I do.’

‘I know him well enough to be certain about his feelings for me,’ said Amalia with a trace of petulance. ‘There’s nothing improper in them.’

‘Then I’m sorry I spoke.’

‘Nick is simply someone who happens to work for Father.’

‘That doesn’t stop him nursing hopes.’

‘Enough of this,’ rebuked Amalia. ‘I don’t want to hear any more. You get above yourself sometimes, Beatrix. There’s no reason why you should take any notice of Nick – or of Aelbert, for that matter. Kees is different. He lives with us. The others come and go. So please don’t make any more of these absurd suggestions about Nick. It’s upsetting.’

Beatrix was cowed. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Amalia.’

‘So you should be.’

‘I won’t venture an opinion again.’

‘Let’s walk on,’ said Amalia, setting the pace.

The servant fell in beside her and they walked on in silence. Though she was still smarting from a rare reprimand, Beatrix didn’t modify her view of Geel in any way. She sensed that there might well be problems ahead.

When Emanuel Janssen was away on business, Aelbert Pienaar took charge of the workshop. He liked to make the others aware of his position, giving orders, making comments on their work and quietly asserting his authority. With Dopff still confined to his bed, only two of them were there. When they came to the end of their day, Pienaar strolled across to Geel’s loom to see what he’d been doing. In order to remind Geel who was in charge, he made some mild criticism. All that the younger man could do was to accept it, apologise and promise to follow his advice. Knowing that he’d one day have to work under him permanently, Geel was forcing himself to appear amenable to a man with whom he had no real affinity. It meant that he had to swallow his pride and bite his tongue. Life in the workshop was so much more enjoyable when Janssen was there but Geel had to face reality. His new master would be Aelbert Pienaar.