'No help for it. Old Blucher's gone eighteen miles to his rear, to Wavre. We had to do likewise, of course. But don't worry! We're in a better case than at Quatre-Bras: the ground there was damnable for cavalry.'
The valet came into the room just then, and conversation was suspended while the Colonel's mud-caked Hessians were pulled off, his pantaloons peeled from his legs, and warm water fetched to wash away the dirt, and the sweat and the bloodstains from his tired body. By the time he came downstairs again, in his service uniform, a tray had been brought to the salon and a table spread. He walked into the room just ahead of his brother, smiled rather wearily at Judith, and then saw Barbara standing by the fireplace. A frown creased his brow; his eyes, heavy and bloodshot, blinked at her in a puzzled way. His brain felt clogged; he did not know how she came to be there, and felt too tired to speculate much about the circumstance. A nightmare of estrangement lay between them, but he had been in the saddle almost continuously for two days, had taken part in a fierce battle against superior odds, and knew that perhaps the most serious engagement of his life was ahead of him. His mind refused to grapple with personal considerations; he merely held out his hand, and said: 'I didn't know you were here, Bab. How do you do?'
Judith, who had expected some show at least of surprise, and had been prepared to whisk herself and Worth out of the room, felt that this calm greeting must affect Barbara like a douche of cold water. But Barbara just took the Colonel's hand, and answered: 'Yes, Charles. I am here. Never mind that now. You are hungry and tired.'
'I don't know when I have been more so,' he admitted, turning from her, and seating himself at the table. He accepted a plate of cold beef from Judith, and added: 'Both your brothers are safe. I think George got a scratch or two today, but nothing serious. I suppose Canning gave you an account of our engagement at Quatre-Bras, Julian?'
'Yes, and I heard more later from Creevey, who had seen Hamilton, of Barnes's staff.'
'Oh, did you?' said Colonel, his mouth rather full of beef. 'Then I expect you know all that happened.'
'Very briefly. Hamilton left the field before the engagement ended.'
'The Guards settled it. Cooke's division came up at about half past six, I suppose. Maitland sent Lord Saltoun in with the Light Infantry of the brigade to clear Bossu wood of the French, which he did. I don't really know where Byng's brigade was placed. It was almost impossible to make out anyone's position. One of Halkett's fellows told me they had seen the French actually sending a man galloping ahead to plant a flag as a point for their troops to charge on. You've no idea what the crops are like there. I've never seen rye grown to such a height.'
'When did Halkett arrive? I collect you mean Sir Colin, not his brother?'
'Yes, of course. Hew Halkett's Hanoverians weren't at Quatre-Bras at all. Alten brought up the 3rd Division somewhere between four and five in the afternoon, and, by God, they were not a moment too soon. Picton's division was pretty well crippled. I don't know which of the brigades suffered the most, Kempt's or Pack's. To make matters worse, Brunswick had been carried off the field, and his men were badly shaken. Olferman couldn't hold them, and they were retreating in a good deal of haste when old Halkett came up. You know Halkett! - or rather you don't, but he told Olferman without mincing matters what he thought of the retreat, and brought the Brunswickers up under cover of a ditch, like the famous old fighter he is!'
'And the Dutch-Belgians?'
The Colonel shrugged. 'Well, there's no doubt Perponcher saved the situation by moving on Quatre-Bras as he did, and Prince Bernhard's Nassauers behaved splendidly. They had one horse battery with them - Stevenart's, I think - and by Jove, those fellows were heroes! Bylandt's brigade suffered rather severely at the start, and as for the rest - it's a case of the least said the soonest mended.'
'How did the Prince of Orange do?'
'Ask Halkett,' replied the Colonel, with a wry smile. 'Poor Slender Billy! He will get so excited!'
Worth refilled his glass. 'At his age that was to be expected. What has he been up to?'
The Colonel drank some of the wine, and picked up his knife and fork again. 'Oh, Halkett galloped forward to the front with one of his ADCs, saw a corps of cavalry forming, and of course returned at once to his brigade, and gave the order to form squares. The 69th - that's Colonel Morice's regiment - were in the act of doing so when up came Slender Billy, and wanted to know what the devil they were about. 'Preparing to meet cavalry' - 'Oh, cavalry be damned!' says Billy. 'There's none within five miles of you! Form column, and deploy into line at once!' Morice had no choice but to obey, of course. The regiment was actually engaged on the movement when about eight hundred cuirassiers came charging down on the brigade. The 30th and the 33rd were firmly in square, but the cuirassiers rode right through the unfortunate 60th, scattered the Belgian and Brunswick cavalry, got as far as Quatre-Bras itself, and completely turned our position. If it hadn't been for the Duke's directing the 92nd Highlanders himself, God knows what might not have happened!'
'Yes, we heard about that, but not about the Prince's folly!'
'You might not. Don't spread the story! I happened to have been sent with a message to Halkett just before the charge, and was in one of the squares beside him. Poor Morice was killed, and scores of others.'
'Then you had no cavalry at all to withstand the French attacks?'
'No, that was the devil of it. The Lancers cut up Pack's Highlanders horribly. But you can't shake the Fighting Division. When Picton retired at last, it was in perfect order. But the loss has been shocking in his whole division. By nine o'clock we outnumbered the French. I saw Ney myself, several times. He kept on rallying his infantry and hurling it against us - behaving more like a madman than a corps commander, we thought. In the end he gave it up, and drew off, and we bivouacked for the night.' He pushed his plate aside, and reached out a hand for the cheese. 'The Duke spent the night at Genappe. We had no news from the Prussians: Hardinge was badly wounded at Ligny, and is hors de combat. It turned out that Blucher did send an officer to us overnight, but he got wounded and never reached us. Gordon was sent off down the Namur road with a half squadron of the 10th the first thing this morning, to see what intelligence he could gain. He got as far as a place called Tilly, found that the whole Prussian Army was retreating on Wavre, and that the French were in force about two miles distant. He got back somewhere about eight o'clock, and that was the first news we had of the Prussian corps, and must have been about 40,000 strong. What happened to that corps yesterday we can't make out. We saw it going off towards Ligny, but it doesn't seem to have been engaged at all. As for us, we had only 25,000, after the flight of the Dutch; but instead of renewing the attack Ney did nothing. At ten o'clock the Duke ordered the infantry to retire in successive brigades through the defile of Genappe, to the position of Mont St Jean. They did this in perfect order, all except two battalions of the 95th Rifles, which the Duke kept at Quatre-Bras, with all the cavalry.' He gave a grin, swallowed a mouthful of bread and cheese, and said: 'Old Hookey sat down to read the letters and newspapers from England which had arrived, and then went to sleep by the side of the road, with a paper spread over his face. When he woke up, he had another look at the enemy through his glass, and found them still not under arms. We began to think they might possibly be retreating. However, about two o'clock, Vivian, who was with the Duke, saw a glitter of steel in the sunlight in the direction of Ligny, and we found that it was caused by huge masses of cavalry moving towards us. At the same time, Ney began to show himself on our front. By the by, it was the most curious effect I ever saw in my life. There was an enormous storm cloud blowing up from the north. We were all in a sort of twilight, but the sun was still shining on the French. Queerest thing I ever saw. The Duke ordered the cavalry, and the horse artillery, and the rifles, to fall back steadily, and went on ahead to dine at Genappe, leaving Uxbridge to do the business, which he did beautifully, withdrawing the cavalry in three columns, and keeping Norman Ramsay's troop to guard the rear. We heard the guns in Genappe just about the time the storm burst, and I went back to see what was happening. Apparently the French opened fire on us, but without doing much damage. They seemed to be concentrating their attacks on our centre column - Somerset's and Ponsonby's heavy brigades, and a rearguard of the 7th Hussars and the 23rd Light Dragoons. By the time they were drawn up on the high ground beyond Genappe, the French lancers were in the town. Uxbridge sent in the 7th to clear them out; they were driven back, rallied, went in again gallantly, time after time, but suffered pretty severely. Uxbridge withdrew them at last, and ordered the light dragoons to advance, but as they didn't seem to relish the task, he snapped out: 'The Life Guards shall have this honour!' and ordered them up. Of course they asked nothing better than to show us what Hyde Park soldiers could do. Uxbridge sent a couple of squadrons into the town. They rode in like thunder-bolts - magnificent to watch - and completely overthrew the lancers.'
'George?' Barbara said.
He turned his head, as though suddenly recollecting her presence. 'Yes, he took part in it. He was not hurt, merely plastered with mud!' He smiled, and said, looking at Worth again: 'That was the funniest part of the business, the Life Guards getting tumbled in the mud. I never remember such a storm. Within half an hour the horses were sinking to their knees, and some of the fields looked like lakes. The 95th were watching the Life Guards
