“It is just this obsession with boys which irritates me. My father is just the same, and when you think how he has always enjoyed the company of women … far more than that of men, you can’t help laughing.”
“You were always very serious about things like that. Edward is serious, too. I think you are very well suited.”
“We understand each other. And you and Peter … you are not much alike.”
“Ours is the attraction of opposites.”
“I see.” And as I looked at her frank open face it was borne home to me that this must be the case.
It was later, when I was in Edward’s room and James was putting extra logs on the fire. The wind had turned cold.
“We must expect it,” said Edward. “March is still with us and we have to endure more wintry weather before the spring.”
The fire blazed up and James turned to me.
“Shall I get the chess board for you?” he asked. “That was an interesting game you left yesterday.”
Edward said: “I think, my dear, I have cornered you. I see mate in the next two moves unless …”
“Unless!” said James. “That’s the point. Mrs. Barrington always fights best when she is in difficulties.”
“I think you are right,” agreed Edward. “How many times have I anticipated victory and had it in my grasp only to be outwitted at the very last move.”
“It’s a great quality,” said James, “to be able to do your best when your back is against the wall.”
“Thank you, James,” I said. “I am glad you both appreciate my indomitable nature.”
James set out the table and carried the chess board to it.
“There,” he said. “Not a piece but where it was during the heat of yesterday’s battle.”
We concentrated on the board and after watching us for a while James went off.
It must have been about ten minutes later when he came back. He dashed into the room and it was obvious that he had exciting news which he was eager to tell us.
“What is it?” cried Edward.
“Mr. Jonathan has just come from Eversleigh with the news. He’s on his way up. Napoleon has escaped from Elba.”
So the euphoria of the last months was wiped out in a single moment. We were back to the fears of the past. The lion had escaped from bondage. He was on the rampage again.
Peace was shattered. Everyone was talking about the escape and asking what it meant. Was it all going to start again? Were we going to be plunged into war?
My mother was particularly bitter. The visit to Burgundy was still fresh in her mind; she was making plans for Charlot to bring his family to visit us and our going over to Burgundy in the summer. And now this miserable wretch had escaped and was preparing to start it all up again.
Edward and I were often at Eversleigh. There was much to talk about, and the conversation was all about Napoleon and the future which concerned us all so much.
David took a calmer view than the others. My father was apt to be choleric and his hatred of the French clouded his opinions. Jonathan was not sufficiently involved. Peter was more concerned with what effect it was going to have on business; so it was David to whom I listened with the greatest attention. We used to sit over dinner talking long after the meal was finished.
David said: “Napoleon is the idol of France and temporary defeat cannot alter that. They have never taken kindly to the King and it is to be expected that they will turn him out now that their hero has returned.”
“I heard they were welcoming him throughout France,” said my father. “The fools! Do they want war? Do they want conquests?”
“Of course they do,” said Jonathan. “Who does not want conquests?”
“Those conquests bring no good to the people,” went on my father.
“They enjoy the return of the victorious armies. They like to think of Europe under the control of Napoleon.”
“He’s certainly made kings and rulers of the members of his family,” said my mother. “And irrespective of their merits.”
“That is a weakness,” agreed David. “And one most human beings are guilty of. But let us face facts. The return of the Bourbons was unpopular. Louis had turned the army against him by appointing émigrés to high posts when a short while ago they were fighting with the allies against France.”
“They were fighting for the restoration of the monarchy,” said my father hotly.
“That was against France,” pointed out David. “Now Napoleon has appeared as the liberator of France, the army is rallying to him.”
“And now,” added my mother wearily, “it is all going to start again.”
“I heard,” said Peter, “that he has become fat. And part of his success was due to his physical fitness.”
“But he was an epileptic, wasn’t he?” asked Claudine.
“Well, he had been in his youth,” replied David. “But that has not prevented his being the most outstanding man in Europe. Whatever you think of him, you have to admit that.”
“We’ll find his match,” said my father. “I’d like to hear what the Duke is doing about this.”
“It is a blessing that he remained close at hand,” added David.
“Yes,” agreed my father. “That idiot Liverpool wanted to send him to America. Thank God the Duke refused to go. Perhaps he saw something like this coming. In any case he did not want to move far away while Napoleon was alive even though he was in exile.”
“What will happen now?” asked Amaryllis.
Her husband smiled at her. “For that, my dear, we have to wait and see.”
We did not have to wait long. Wellington took command of the army and left for Belgium at the beginning of April. Napoleon was going from strength to strength. He was proclaimed Liberator of France. Louis had fled to Ghent and in the streets of Paris people were dancing in transports of joy.
The conquering hero had returned to them.
Each day we awoke to a feeling of expectancy mingled with dread. He had been so victorious in the past. He was back. He was a legend and legends are hard to defeat. But we had a mighty Duke and he was such another hero to us. Defeat seemed as impossible for him as the French saw it for Napoleon.
The Duke was in Flanders where he would join up with Blucher and our Prussian allies. Feelings ran high. “This time,” said the people, “we are going to see the end of Old Boney for all time.”
Through May this mood continued. Napoleon, brilliant general that he was, was doing everything he could to prevent the union of Wellington and Blucher.
June had come—hot, uneasy days. Napoleon had defeated the Prussians at Ligny and that news was received with great gloom which lifted considerably when we heard that the Prussian army had managed to escape.
Wellington was at the village of Waterloo where, said my father, he could keep an eye on Brussels while he awaited the arrival of Blucher’s army.
We knew how important this battle was. It was going to decide the fate of Europe. On it rested Napoleon’s Empire and our own future well-being and safety.
The French had Napoleon but we must never forget, my father told us, that we had Wellington.
And so to the great battle which will never be forgotten in our history.
Forever I shall remember the day when news came of Wellington’s victory at Waterloo, bringing with it the knowledge that Napoleon had been defeated for ever. From now on we should be able to sleep peacefully in our beds at night.
What days they were following that historic battle. There was rejoicing everywhere. Bonfires, dancing in the streets … Waterloo! It was a word which was written in glittering letters on our country’s history and the man who had made that victory possible was everybody’s hero. I thought of how people had dragged his carriage from Westminster Bridge to Hamilton Place. That would be nothing compared with the welcome he would receive now.