The Three Colonels (26 page)

“Hell's fire! Must I do everything myself?” Fitzwilliam cried. “Stand clear!” He drew his sabre and readied his mount. With a drive of his spurs, the horse shot forward.

“ARRRGGHH!” he screamed as he headed down the left-hand side of the course, leaning over the horse's neck and pointing the sword forward. At full speed, he cut at the haystack with all his might, straw flying everywhere. Pulling back at the reins, he expertly pivoted and dashed to the second target. His mount danced about the post as Richard slashed at it repeatedly. Then in a blink, he was off again, his blade this time held at an angle to his body. It made a satisfying
thunk
as it struck the last post. Reaching the end of the course at top speed, he halted in a cloud of dust.

“Time!” he called.

His aide checked his pocket watch and informed the rapt audience that the colonel had bested their top performance by ten seconds.

“There!” Richard called out, breathing heavily. “If an old man can do that, you can certainly do better. Do the drill again, and a pint of ale to any man who bests my time by twenty seconds!”

A cheer went up from the troopers. “I will be drinking your beer soon, Red Fitz!” cried one unnamed rider as he took off down the course.

Richard could not help grinning at the use of the nickname by which his men referred to him, usually when he was out of earshot. By the time the exercise was over, Colonel Fitzwilliam was poorer by a gallon and a half.

Happy to have found something to motivate his men, he turned to his aide. “A barrel of Belgium beer to the squadron with the best average time.” The aide grinned and left to deliver the message.

Richard was satisfied. His troopers would be ready.

***

London

While Caroline performed at the pianoforte, Marianne hid her disquiet as she had tea with Anne, Mrs. Albertine Buford, and Rebecca. Marianne knew that Caroline was unhappy, for while she played with great skill and technique, there was a want of feeling. Her friend was mechanically going through the motions.

Caroline finished and turned to her guest. “Do you play today, Marianne?”

“I thought you were my friend,” Marianne exclaimed.

Caroline was taken aback. “Whatever do you mean?”

Marianne smiled at Mrs. Buford and Rebecca. “She would have me, with my meager talents, follow such a lovely performance. For shame! I shall be thought as the most rank beginner in comparison, I am sure.”

For the first time that day, Caroline allowed a smile to adorn her face. “Meager talents, indeed! Come, Marianne, you leave tomorrow. I would love to hear you play once more.”

The guest sighed dramatically. “Oh, very well, if you insist.” Privately, Marianne was very pleased with her efforts to lighten Caroline's mood. She sat before the instrument and started into a light country air while Caroline took a seat next to Anne.

Anne looked at Marianne and sighed. “If only I had learned to play.” She turned to the group. “You know, my mother always said if I had ever learnt, I should have been a great proficient if my health had allowed me to apply. She is confident that I would have performed delightfully,” she said with a straight face.

Caroline's face had turned the brightest red as she screwed up her mouth, holding back the laugh that threatened to erupt. She had heard that comment countless times from Lady Catherine de Bourgh—in fact, every time she played before the old biddy. The other Mrs. Bufords could only look on in puzzlement as first Caroline then Anne began to giggle, but the ladies could resist no longer and the sounds of laughter began to drown out Marianne's performance.

Mrs. Brandon stopped her piece and turned. “I say, what is so funny?” she demanded with all injured eloquence. With that, she started to play again, which only redoubled the two ladies' mirth.

“Dear,” asked Mother Buford to Rebecca, “do you know what they are about?”

“No, but it seems to have a proper effect.” They, too, had noticed Caroline's melancholy, but unlike the other ladies, they knew the reason.

The ladies sat back to enjoy the concert when it was again interrupted. This time the offender was Roberts, the acting assistant butler.

“Lady Buford, there is an army officer to see you.”

Silence descended upon the room. The five ladies knew that the visit of an officer was often to deliver the worst sort of news.

Caroline's face became a stone mask as she rose and slowly followed Roberts out of the room. First Rebecca then the others followed. They beheld a short captain in a red coat conversing with Caroline in the vestibule.

“Lady Buford? Captain Castlebaum at your service. I am charged with delivering this letter to you.” He held out an envelope.

Caroline saw at once that the writing upon it was in her husband's hand. Taking it with trembling hands, she willed herself not to tear it open on the spot. “Thank you, Captain. We are at tea. Would you care to join us?”

“Thank you, no, madam. I must be off. Happy to have been of service to you.” The half-crown in Denny's envelope with the directions would be reward enough.

Caroline grasped his arm. “God bless you, Captain.”

“It was an honor, my lady.” He bowed and left.

Caroline turned and mumbled, “Pray excuse me,” as she made her way directly into the library. The other ladies followed at a discreet distance and stood silently outside the closed door. A few moments later, they were distressed to hear the sound of weeping from within. Ignoring propriety, the four entered the library to find Caroline softly crying on a sofa, the letter in one hand.

Mother Buford reached her first and embraced her daughter. “Oh my dear, oh my love!” She could think of nothing else to say.

Caroline hugged her tightly. “Oh, Mother! All is well, all is well.” She smiled through her tears.

***

Rosings Park

Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson alighted from the de Bourgh carriage that had carried them back to Rosings from their short trip to Town. Anne walked up the front steps of her ancestral home with a new assurance. Rosings had always been the place she grew up; now it felt like home—
her
home.

“Mrs. Parks,” Anne greeted the housekeeper. “How fares the house? Any mishaps during my absence?” She handed her traveling cloak to a footman as Mrs. Jenkinson saw to the luggage.

“No, ma'am,” reported the housekeeper with a touch of pride. The tone of her voice betrayed the fact that to her mind, it was well worth fifteen years of dealing with Lady Catherine to see this confident young lady assuming her rightful place.

Anne smiled as she handed her hat to the butler. “No trouble at all? Not even from my mother?” She began to remove her gloves.

Mrs. Parks smiled in return. “No, ma'am.
That
would be difficult from where she is.”

Anne turned slowly. “I beg your pardon?”

“Why, you know—Bath.”

Anne blinked. “I am afraid I do not comprehend your meaning. Am I to understand that Lady Catherine is not in residence?”

Mrs. Parks was confused. “No, ma'am, but—”

“Did you say she was in
Bath
?”

“Miss de Bourgh, your mother said you were aware of her plans! She was very insistent—”

“I know nothing of this!”

Mrs. Parks's hand went to her face. “Oh, dear!”

Anne thought for a moment and then walked quickly to the parlor. Throwing open the door, she went directly to Lady Catherine's writing desk. Sure enough, there was a letter for her.

Dear Anne,

I congratulate you on your ascension to the management of Rosings Park. I am sure you shall do your duty to your heritage, both as a Fitzwilliam and a de Bourgh.

I have removed myself from a household that no longer needs nor desires my company. As Rosings Park is now forever taken from me, I shall secure myself a proper household as befits my station.

Do not concern yourself on my behalf. Lady Metcalfe has provided lodgings for me and shall act as my companion in Bath. Already, General Tilney has agreed to call, and Lady Metcalfe is desirous to introduce a Sir Walter Elliot to my acquaintance. It may be that I shall quit the name de Bourgh in no short time after you do so.

I insist that you write soon to acquaint me with your plans for your wedding so that I may guide you.

Your loving mother,

LADY CATHERINE de BOURGH

Mrs. Jenkinson and Mrs. Parks watched in amazement as Anne doubled over in laughter. Instead of answering their entreaties, she handed them the letter. Mrs. Jenkinson started giggling as she read, but the housekeeper was aghast.

“Ma'am, should I have a new team assembled for the carriage?”

Anne looked up. “What—whatever for?”

“So that you may go to Bath to collect Lady Catherine.”

Anne could not stop laughing but put her hand out. “No, I do not think so. I think Mother can handle this on her own.”

***

Brussels

“You want me to send
another
letter?” Denny cried.

“Yes, if you would be so kind,” Sir John replied. He had just received Caroline's express and had to respond quickly.

Denny was conflicted; he wanted to say no, and he had the right to do so, but the look in Colonel Buford's eyes convinced him. “All right—but this is the last time, sir.”

“I understand, thankee,” he said as he handed over the envelope and the required half-crown.

***

Paris

After a farewell dinner with his family, the emperor walked down the steps of the
Palais
des
Tuileries
to his waiting carriage at half past three in the afternoon. Unlike the events that had occurred earlier in the month when he tried to raise morale and faith in his leadership with the people, this leave-taking was without imperial pomp. He wore the blue infantry coat with red epaulettes of a grenadier, adding only his Legion sash. After saying good-bye to his brother Joseph who had been left in command of the city, he set off to join his
Armée du Nord
with his
aides-de-camp
, ordnance officers, and four hundred imperial guardsmen.

He had also secreted over one million francs' worth of diamonds in the coach, just in case.

And so, with protection, wealth, and his lucky star, the emperor set out to secure his throne with one last mighty victory.

***

Rosings Park

Anne helped her extremely subdued mother out of the hired coach that had brought her from Bath. She offered the use of her arm and helped Lady Catherine up the front steps into the house. With no greeting to or from the staff, the two women walked slowly up the stairs to the older woman's suite of rooms. Once there, Anne instructed that Lady Catherine's luggage not be brought upstairs until requested and then entered the sitting area behind her mother.

Lady Catherine sat down with a huff. “Well, I suppose you should be saying, ‘I told you so.'”

Anne pulled a chair close to her and sat down. “No, Mama.”

“Sir Walter Elliot, indeed! Of what could Lady Metcalfe have been thinking? The man is a dolt! Never have I seen a man so vain! And the way he looked at me; you would think I had grown two heads! I have always been celebrated for my youthful appearance.” She looked at her daughter. “It is certain that you inherited your lovely complexion from me, my dear,” she said as she caressed her face. “Yes, you have turned out very well indeed.”

“Thank you, Mama.”

“And General Tilney—why the way he looked at me! It is certain what
he
desired.” She leaned close. “My
money
.”

Anne patted her hand. “You have had a narrow escape.”

“I have indeed. Thank goodness for my unerring judgment of character.” Lady Catherine sighed.

“Are you tired, Mama?”

“A little. Bath is no easy distance. Perhaps we may talk later… about improvements to the dowager house?”

Anne kissed her mother. “As you wish.”

***

Brussels

Buford and Fitzwilliam were sharing dinner together at the boardinghouse, perhaps for the last time. Rumors of the French crossing into Belgium had been circulating around the camp for days. It did not help that Wellington had placed the army under a form of alert; certain units were moving as they ate.

“Brandon says nothing?” asked Buford.

“No, and Denny, neither. What good is it to have friends at headquarters if they will tell you nothing?”

Buford grunted. “You and Denny have reconciled, I take it?”

“Yes, he is a good sort of fellow, in his way,” Fitzwilliam allowed.

“Even though he is friends with Wickham?” Buford goaded him.

Richard's eyes were on his plate. “I suppose I cannot hold that against him. After all, I eat with you.”

It took a full glass of wine to relieve Sir John after he choked on his food.

Later over port, Fitzwilliam asked, “Are you going to the Duchess of Richmond's ball?”

Buford looked down. “I think I have attended all the balls I am going to during this campaign, Fitz. You?”

“No, I have a feeling I need to be close to my regiment.”

“Yes, I feel it too.”

***

The next afternoon, Colonel Brandon and Major Denny were conferring with the other ADCs regarding the rumors of a French invasion of the United Netherlands, as the polyglot Holland and Belgium were known, when the door burst open at about three o'clock. A sweaty and dusty Prussian officer, who had obviously ridden hard, walked in the room.

“Where is the duke?” he cried in German. “
Die
Französisch sind hier! Der Französisch haben Charleroi genommen!
”

Wellington walked out of his office. “What was that, sir?”

The officer repeated in English, “The French are here! The French have taken Charleroi!”