Page 44 of The Forbidden Love of an Officer
‘You would just be entertaining yourself while I work. I would not mind, Ellen,’Paul had said, but still the thought of spending time among those cold-hearted, shallow people she did not really know, and certainly did not care for, did not appeal. She was not unhappy to sit and wait for him. Jennifer was with her each day and Paul had bought her books and sewing threads, and she walked outside, perhaps along the river. It was not an unbearable life. She had a roof over her head, a comfortable bed to sleep in and food in her stomach, even though they were now living upon credit as the army had not paid Paul’s wages… and every evening Paul came home to her.
But then there were nights like this, when the lieutenant colonel hosted a lavish dinner party in the house he had rented, a very pretty and rather large town house, and the officers and his guests would be expected to dance almost until dawn.
‘I never realised until I came to Brussels that ostriches came in every colour of the rainbow. Have you ever seen a blue or pink one in a zoological garden?’
Ellen focused on Captain Montgomery and bit her lip to stop herself from laughing, though she knew he must see the humour in her eyes. She understood why Paul liked him, because he was always light-hearted, and always making jokes. ‘You are naughty…’ But even as she spoke, her gaze passed over his shoulder glancing at a dozen ostrich feathers waving like the regimental flag on its staff, from the highly coifed hair of so many over-dressed women. They did look a little silly.
She smiled at him, and then for the rest of the dance they talked, mostly about others in the room – the pleasure-seeking people she thought fools.
But then perhaps her view was coloured by Paul’s, who continually called them fools.
When the dance was at an end, Captain Montgomery bowed swiftly, lifting her hand and kissing the back of it. ‘Paul is a very lucky man,’ he said, before giving her a swift smile. He had said the same at the end of every dance they had shared in Brussels. Paul knew he said it too, because he was forever telling Paul how lucky he was to have her.
She smiled broadly, even as the heat of a blush warmed her cheeks.
‘Come, seeing as you have a husband, and he is my friend, I am duty-bound to return you to him. I had better do so.’
‘Paul,’ she acknowledged as they neared him. He stepped forward and took her hand. Paul’s smile passed from her to his friend.
‘I have just said to your wife, again, you are a lucky devil. I cannot believe you have the pleasure of looking into those fine eyes for hours at a time. I am so very envious of you.’
‘Well, you may remain envious, because this lady is mine.’ The two of them laughed.
‘Are you warm now, Ellen?’ Paul asked her. ‘Shall we fetch you a glass of punch?’
‘Yes, please.’
Both men walked beside her to the refreshment table. As she walked, with her hand on Paul’s forearm, looking from Paul to his friend as they talked, her gaze was pulled to look further away. The lieutenant colonel was seated at a card table in a room beside the one in which they danced, watching her.
She smiled, it was how she had learned to manage his interest. He smiled in return, then looked away.
She had become more accustomed to his measured stares, but perhaps that was because she did not have to endure them overmuch. Since they had reached Brussels she rarely saw him. It was only when the officers were invited to his parties, or to dine here that she encountered him. She looked at Paul, listening to him speak with his friend. He had not noticed her exchange with the lieutenant colonel.
Paul had told her the lieutenant colonel had submerged himself in the hedonistic life here. He socialised and was constantly playing cards, gambling, as he was now, until the early hours. He encouraged his officers to participate. Paul had excused himself, giving Ellen as his reason.
She and Paul were happy here, living their quite way of life, spending all their time together when he was not working. If only there were not a war looming like a dark, swirling storm cloud.
13
On the 10th of June, word reached Brussels that the Congress of Vienna had signed a final agreement over the state of Europe. It gave Napoleon no rights to France. But prior to this Napoleon had signed a new constitution for the Empire he had claimed, and paraded through Paris to celebrate, cheered by thousands of supporters who had come out on to the streets to see him.
In response, the parks and streets of Brussels were full of people eager to discuss the news with excitement and expectation, all gossiping in high-pitched, hurried voices, wondering what would happen next.
Ellen hated their speculation. She did not go out in the day, but she and Paul walked in a park at six o’clock, enjoying the evening light and the last of the sun’s warmth. It had rained a lot recently, so the clear night was a novelty. Paul said the fields and tracks they were scouting were muddy, and terrain would not be at its best if there was a battle now. But it was likely it would be soon, because the French army were renowned for moving quickly.
Ellen held his arm, but as they passed another huddle of obnoxious tourists, she slid her fingers down to grip his hand.
At least half a dozen voices in the group were agreeing that the battle would be soon.
Her heart had been pounding for hours as she tried not to think about it.
Paul held her hand firmly as they walked on past. ‘You know, Ellen, if I could assure you of my safety, I would say it…’
She wanted to stop and cover her ears. She had known this conversation would come but she did not want to hear it. Yet it would be cowardice not to listen, when he was brave enough to risk his life.
‘There can be no guarantees in war, Ellen.’
She knew.
