The twenty-third, the great day, dawned. London was en fete. The great Duke was coming home victorious. Because of his efforts the bogey, Napoleon, was on Elba where he could do no harm. We could sleep happily in our beds again and all because of the mighty Duke.
There was no doubt about it, he was going to be given a great welcome.
People were in the streets early.
“We could get near Westminster Bridge where he will alight,” said Jonathan.
“There’ll be crowds there,” warned Peter.
“Maybe, but it will be the best spot.”
My parents were going to watch from a window and my father advised us to do the same.
“Oh, let’s go into the streets,” begged Tamarisk. “It can’t be the same from a window. I want to be down there with all those people.”
“You come with me,” said Jonathan.
“Oh yes.” She was jumping up and down with joy.
“Well, if you want to get into the crush, do,” said my father.
In the end, Amaryllis and I went out with Tamarisk, Jonathan and Peter.
“Not too near Westminster Bridge,” warned my father.
“I know the very spot,” said Jonathan.
I had to agree with Tamarisk that there was nothing like the excitement of being in the streets. Traders were selling flags and effigies of the great Duke. There were mugs with his image on them. “Not very flattering,” commented Jonathan.
Everyone seemed to be shouting. A band was playing Rule, Britannia. The crowds were greater as we came near the Bridge.
“We’ll stay here,” said Jonathan.
“It’s a little close,” pointed out Peter.
“We want to be close. We want to see the great man,” pointed out Jonathan.
“There’ll be a scuffle when his carriage moves away.”
“The great point is to see him,” said Jonathan. “Tamarisk has told me that she insists, haven’t you, Gypsy?”
“I want to see the Duke,” she replied firmly.
“It is all right now,” admitted Peter. “And it is the best spot we can hope for. I was thinking of when the crowd begins to move.”
“All keep together,” said Jonathan. “No straying, Gypsy. Do you hear me?”
“Of course I heard you.”
“Well, remember it.”
The tumult had increased and there, in person, was the great Duke. Tamarisk cried desperately: “I can’t see. There are too many big people.” Jonathan picked her up and, to her intense delight, set her on his shoulder holding her high above the crowd.
The Duke was stepping into the carriage, acknowledging the cheers. He was neither tall nor short—about five feet nine inches, I guessed. He was handsome in his uniform, which was glittering with medals—spare figure, muscular looking as though he were in perfect health; and his features were aquiline and I was close enough to see his grey penetrating eyes.
“God bless the great Duke,” cried the crowd and the cheers went up.
Then the crowd took over. The horses were removed from the carriage and the people crowded round for the honour of pulling his carriage to the Duchess’s house in Hamilton Place. It was an extraordinary sight.
“There,” said Jonathan. “It wouldn’t have been nearly so good from a window, would it?”
“More comfortable,” I commented.
“It is comfortable,” said Tamarisk.
“We don’t all have the privilege of being held aloft by a gallant gentleman,” I reminded her.
She looked blissfully happy then.
The carriage was moving slowly away and the crowd started to follow. Jonathan put Tamarisk down and said: “Keep close.”
The crowds were pressing round. This was what Peter had warned us against. The shouting throng was pressing round the Duke’s carriage.
“We’ll get away from the crowd,” said Peter. He took Amaryllis’ arm and mine. “Come on,” he added.
Tamarisk said: “I want to follow the coach.”
And with that she edged away in the opposite direction.
“Tamarisk,” I shouted.
But she had pushed herself farther away. I caught sight of her standing alone trapped by the surging mass of people and I imagined her being trampled underfoot for people were converging on her from all sides and she was so small and light. I was numb with horror.
Jonathan had seen what was happening. I heard him murmur: “She’ll be crushed to death.”
He pushed his way through the crowd. He was just in time to reach her before she was swept off her feet. He snatched her up and held her in his arms. He was attempting to force his way through the crowd to where we were standing. It was not easy. The crowd surged round him making its way towards the carriage. Amaryllis was clinging to Peter’s arm. I felt sick with fear. I had myself experienced that terrifying feeling of crowds surging round me … enveloping me … forcing me down, trampling over me. That would have been Tamarisk’s fate if Jonathan had not snatched her up.
He reached us. He was obviously shaken but I do not think Tamarisk realized the danger she had faced.
Jonathan did not set her down until we were on the edge of the crowd.
“What I need,” he said, “is a drink. A draught of good ale or cider, possibly wine. Something. I’m as dry as a bone.”
“I’m thirsty, too,” said Tamarisk.
“As for you,” said Jonathan, “you deserve a spanking. You were told to stay where you were. That should be your refreshment and I would like to be the one to administer it.”
“Don’t treat me like a child,” she said, her black eyes flashing.
“When you behave like one, Gypsy, that is how I shall treat you.”
I said: “We told you not to leave us, Tamarisk.”
“I wasn’t far off.”
“Thank God for that,” said Peter.
“You’re all against me,” cried Tamarisk. “I hate you all.”
“Extraordinary gratitude towards one who has just saved your life,” I said.
“Here’s the Westminster Tavern,” said Peter. “It’s a reasonably good inn.”
“Let’s go in,” said Jonathan.
There were several people there, all presumably with the same idea of escaping the crowds.
We seated ourselves round a table and ordered cider.
“Did you really save my life?” asked Tamarisk.
“It’s difficult to say,” mused Jonathan. “You might merely have been scarred for life or suffered a few broken limbs. It might not have been death.”
She stared at him in horror. “Like Aunt Sophie,” she said. “I didn’t think…”
-”That is the trouble,” I said, governess-fashion, “you don’t think as much as you should … of other people.”
“I was thinking of other people. I was thinking of the Duke.”
Jonathan wagged a finger at her. “You were told not to stray and you promptly did so.”
“And if Jonathan hadn’t rescued you …” I began.
“Oh.” She looked at him with wondering eyes.
“That’s better,” he said smiling at her.
“Thank you, Jonathan, for saving my life.”
“It was an honour,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it.
I thought what a beautiful child she was when she was soft and affectionate. She was now looking at Jonathan with far more admiration than she had bestowed on the Duke himself.
We sat in silence drinking our cider. I was thinking of the great Duke being drawn in his carriage by the people who wanted to show him how they honoured him; and I wondered about the meeting between him and his Duchess when the carriage arrived at Hamilton Place. There he was at the height of his triumph, honours heaped upon him, the people wanting to show their gratitude. He must be a happy man. Was he?