Page 49 of The Forbidden Love of an Officer
She was glad, though, when the dance was over and she could go back to Paul. She clung to Paul’s arm and lifted to her toes to whisper in his ear. ‘If anyone else asks me to dance, say no, say you wish to keep me for yourself.’
He looked down at her with a question in his eyes. ‘But there are a couple of hundred men in here, Ellen, all seeking partners and a moment to escape.’
He made her feel guilty, and as she glanced around the makeshift ballroom, she realised there was a forced feeling to the exuberance of the dancers. All these men were a little afraid but being brave and forcing fear aside.
She faced Paul and knew he was too. That was why they had spent most of the week in bed. ‘I am sorry. I shall dance again if anyone asks me. Shall we seek a cup of orgeat? I am hot and thirsty.’
There was a lot of high-pitched laughter in the room, from both men and women, and many of the young officers were drinking glass after glass of the punch that contained liquor.
She was sorry for the men. All of them.
When they reached the refreshment table, Paul accepted a sculpted glass in the shape of an open tulip and handed it to her, then accepted another for himself. The cordial made from almonds and orange was sweetened with sugar that she and Paul could not afford, and it was cooled by ice, which was needed in the room that had become overly hot with so many people gathered.
They turned as the orchestra struck up another jig to jubilant calls from the crowd, their glasses in their hands. The Highlanders came forth again to entertain.
Paul sipped the orgeat; he would normally drink wine, or the punch.
She looked about the room – most of the senior officers were drinking orgeat, or not drinking at all. She knew that ever since Napolean had paraded through Paris, before departing to seek out the Allied forces, Paul had been waiting for the moment he would be called to fight. As each day had passed, it had become more likely it would be at any moment. She could see here, many others had been waiting for the grains of sand she had imagined in the hourglass to fall – and time was running out.
Paul’s fingers touched her elbow. ‘Let us watch.’ He drew her forward, among the people who had gathered at the edge of the dance floor. The Scotsmen stepped and danced over the crossed swords they had laid on the floor. The crowd clapped to the rhythm of the jig, gasping and then laughing as the Highlanders’ feet moved across the blades.
Again, she felt a false exuberance in the atmosphere.
She leaned into Paul’s side, and his arm unusually came about her, his fingers bracing her waist. She rested her head against his shoulder too, as they continued watching the men. With no force, or falseness, she felt happier than she had thought it ever possible to be. A wave of love swept through her blood.
When the jig had finished, she would have asked Paul to dance with her again, but one of the Highlanders asked for her hand. She could not refuse, not now she had realised what tonight meant.
After dancing with the Highlander, Paul’s lieutenant colonel asked for her hand for a waltz. Her heart longed to return to Paul through the whole dance, but she tried to smile and speak brightly. These men were willing to give their lives for her and others.
She was breathless when the lieutenant colonel returned her to Paul, his hand holding her elbow. His fingers clung and held her for longer than necessary, as they stood facing Paul. ‘Your wife, returned, Captain.’
Paul saluted, then bowed a little. The lieutenant colonel’s hand released her, then he walked away.
Ellen wished it was time they could go home but the ball was nowhere near ready to break up and it would look odd if an officer left so early.
‘May I dance with you?’ Paul asked.
She smiled. ‘I would love to dance with you.’
‘Come then.’ His embrace was firm as he took her waist and her hand then spun her into another waltz. Paul had said London society would be shocked to its core by the army’s addiction to the waltz, a dance that meant couples remained close together for the whole melody. But every society rule was different here, because people had less fear of consequences when death hung on the horizon. When Ellen danced waltzes with Paul, it felt like flying in heaven.
When the dance finished, heat flushed her cheeks. She smiled at Paul, laughing, as he breathed more heavily, his blue eyes clinging to her. ‘We shall leave soon,’ he said, implying that his thoughts on where he would rather be were the same as hers.
Directly behind him there was a flurry of whispers. Ellen looked across his shoulder. The group of people about the Duke of Wellington were turning to others and passing some message on. The Duke of Wellington spoke to the Duke of Richmond with a concerned expression. Then both dukes walked from the room, at pace.
‘Paul…’ She touched his arm.
He turned to see what she had been looking at.
When he saw other officers gathering in that corner of the room, he did not hesitate but crossed the room with quick strides to join them. She followed, hurrying to keep up. Captain Montgomery was there.
‘What is it, George?’ Paul asked him.
‘Word has come,’ he answered.
As Captain Montgomery answered Paul’s question, Ellen saw a man in a muddy uniform standing among a huddle of women, who were offering him food and a glass of something to drink. Behind him the orchestra still played, and people were still dancing, as the news passed about the edges of the room from one person to another.
‘Napoleon has struck our left side,’ Captain Montgomery continued. ‘He caught the Duke of Wellington off guard. We are to march. There will be a battle within hours.’
