Page 45 of The Forbidden Love of an Officer
‘I have written to my father, and asked him to help you, financially. If anything happens to me you must write to him. You understand?’
She nodded, unable to speak past the lump of tears gathering in her throat. She bit her lip to hold them back, biting down hard as her fingers curled more tightly about his hand.
‘If things do not go well, I have asked George to see that you are safe. He will organise a route to get you home, and if anything were to happen to George then any of the officers would help you, you may appeal to any of them.’
Again, she nodded, as her stomach became hollow. She could not and would not imagine him gone. She could not live without him. He was her whole life. She sometimes thought of her old home, but those memories were beyond reality now, it was with dreamlike affection.
‘And you must write to your father and encourage him to forgive you and show compassion…’
She did not think her father capable of compassion, but again she nodded.
‘I have written a will. George has it. It was properly witnessed. I do not have much. We have too many debts. But the few things I have you can sell to help pay your way home.’
He spoke as though it would happen, as though this was a plan, not a contingency. She stopped walking, turned and held his hand in both of hers, as she looked him in the eye. ‘You will not die. I shall not let you. I cannot allow it… I am too much in love with you. I cannot lose you. You will survive.’
His hand slipped free of hers as his eyes glowed aquamarine with moisture.Was it tears…
He enfolded her in his arms, pulling her tight against his chest, ignoring everyone else in the park. ‘I love you, more than mere words can ever express,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘But I cannot control fate, Ellen. Believe me, I shall fight as hard as I can, both to beat back the enemy so they can never reach you, and to stay alive. But we must be sensible and plan in case…’ He did not say the last words.
She was betraying him by letting emotion get the best of her. She needed to be brave for him. Not send him into battle with tears that might distract his thoughts, but with love. She leaned back and braced his face, a palm resting against his shaven cheeks. ‘You must not fear for me. You must focus on yourself. I will manage here.’
* * *
Ellen’s eyes were bright with unshed tears, they sparkled in the evening sun which flooded down on the busy park. This woman had so much beauty inside her, and so much love for him. It glimmered there.
After she had spoken, she bit her lower lip, and he could see how hard by the white line beneath the press of her teeth.
She was being brave for him. He could ask no more.
She was such a delicate-looking woman, and yet she was not delicate at all. Inside, she was strong, and he knew she would survive. ‘If the whole army fails, Ellen, you must leave as soon as you hear the news. Do you understand? I will leave you what money I have, and you are to buy a passage on any coach or cart you can find. Do you hear me?’
‘Yes.’ Her soft lips trembled as they parted to answer him, and a single tear slipped from her eye.
‘I will have to leave you in Brussels soon, in the next few days, I think, and you may stay here. But if you hear that ill fate has befallen us, then you must go.’
She nodded.
He held her to his chest again, with a fierce love, as the pain he had become used to clasped in his stomach. He hated that he could not protect her, that he could not offer her any certainty of his return. He hated having to leave her every day. But in a few days, it might be to never return. He was not afraid for himself, but for her.What would happen if he died? He had done his best to help her, but if they lost the battle George would not return either…
He held her for a long time, ignoring the stares of others in the park. Perhaps they should have had this conversation in private, but when he had heard the men talking, he had known what was passing through Ellen’s mind and he had not been able to hold his words back any longer. The information he needed to tell her, about what to do if he died, had been passing through his head for hours, days, weeks, during their whole journey here.
When he released her, he pressed a brief kiss to her temple, then said briskly, ‘Let us think and talk of other things…’ It was better having said what needed to be said that they did not dwell on it. What was the point? He would live or he would not.
* * *
Ellen had prayed last night, over and over, while Paul slept, whispering the words out loud in case God could not hear them if they were spoken in her mind. She pleaded and begged God to keep him alive and bring him back.
When she went out for a walk with Jennifer just after midday, an exodus had begun; carriages and carts were being loaded with furniture and baggage. People were fleeing the city before the fighting began – people who, before the danger approached, had laughed and danced as though they had no fear.
Not everyone was leaving though; there were still many hardy revellers in the parks.
Yet seeing people rushing to leave increased the fear Ellen was struggling to hold back. She had been sick this morning, fortunately it was after Paul had gone. She knew he worried about her too and she did not want him to worry more. But the fear slept inside her, gently breathing, and then something would stir it and it would wake, running into her blood, gripping about her heart, and capturing the air in her lungs. But she continued walking beside Jennifer as if nothing was wrong, refusing to acknowledge any chance Paul might not return. He would. She would not accept another outcome.
When they returned to their rooms, Ellen picked up her sewing with an aim to focus her mind away from fear. It felt as though sand ran through an hourglass, each grain marking the footsteps of the approaching French army.
14
Ellen looked up as Paul entered their little parlour. Jennifer stood and bobbed a curtsy. His hand lifted, holding up two gilt-edged slips of paper. ‘We are invited to the Richmond ball.’
