Page 31 of The Spy and the Nightingale
After Waterloo, she’d sat at many bedsides in place of mother, sister, wife, sweetheart. So many times she had gripped a man’s hand—little more than a boy’s, often—as he unburdened himself of that which haunted him.
“Yes.” Another wave of images threatened to engulf her.
“Some of the horrific atrocities I witnessed in Portugal— It was a living nightmare, marching through those villages, seeing the carnage inflicted upon residents as the French withdrew. Nothing you say will discomfit me.”
She fixed her eyes on his hand where it was loosely curled beside her face. “I’m on the field of combat, after Waterloo. Only in these dreams, that is. I never saw it for myself, not in truth. I know it cannot compare to reality.”
“It will not inconvenience me, even so.”
“It was not possible to avoid hearing the details in the weeks after. Last night... Oh, many times I’ve been there.” Breath in, breath out. “Among the injured, the dying, the heaps of those already dead. The accounts of Quatre Bras and Waterloo were quite colorful.”
Nathaniel’s forearm around her tightened slightly.
“But in my dreams, somewhere there, if only I can find them, are Jamie and Lucy, still living. I know this with certainty. Why Lucy should be there is not... logical. She was in London last June, still safe and nowhere near Flanders. But in my dream...”
Nathaniel’s hand moved from her waist to spread on her side, fingers fanned gently across her ribs.
“I never can find them though. Not Jamie nor Lucy either, although I delve through the piles of bodies and call for them until I have no voice remaining. My skirts are soaked. Soaked with blood until I cannot take a single step forward, weighed down. There is a ceaseless creeping tide of it, and I am near to drowning in it. So much blood everywhere, and I cannot move an inch to free myself. There are no survivors now, no one healthy and haleon the whole of the field apart from myself.” Her voice faltered. “Myself alone.”
“Does it never vary?”
“That one? Never, although it is but one of the dreams.” She swallowed hard. “The worst of them, I’d say.”
Nathaniel’s thumb stroked gently over her ribs, back and forth. Mentally she tracked it, the movement a lifeline to the present, until she was able to continue.
“I never visited it, the site of the battle. I couldn’t bear to go, even months later. One of Jamie’s friends offered to take me before we returned to England. For... closure. But I could not. I suppose I was a...” Her voice broke around the great lump in her throat. “A coward,” she finished.
Nathaniel brought his chin down against her hair.
She’d never talked about the days around Jamie’s death, not to Maman and Da, although they had asked. Not to well-meaning friends who had come to call. Nathaniel would listen; the offer was not made lightly. His solid, reassuring presence conveyed it as clearly as his words had.
“I was in Brussels, before. With the other Greys officers’ wives, from among those who had come to Ostend... We made our way to Brussels from Ghent the first week of June to be nearer to our husbands’ billets. No one knew at that point how long it might be before there was any sort of serious action, only that one was coming. We were in Brussels already when the call came for the troops to muster in the streets. The Greys, Jamie included, were not among them. Well, excepting a few senior field officers attending the Duchess of Richmond’s ball. But our men—the company officers—bivouacked elsewhere with the rest of the cavalry. We did not see them off in the early morning.” She fell silent.
Nathaniel tightened his hand’s clasp where it rested now on her shoulder but did nothing else, said nothing. He was a man ofgreat patience, one of many attributes she was learning about him. No doubt life had required it of him, with where it had taken him. And that patience was a gift to her in this moment.
When she felt able, she continued her story. “Later that day we could hear the cannonade from Quatre Bras that bespoke heavy engagement. Bruxellois citizens and the British alike, both attached to the armies and civilians... The whole city was anxious. Rumors abounded. All we could do was wait, knowing for certain only that the ceaseless guns signified a great battle. For us... the Greys’ wives... We did not hear at first that the cavalry did not make it in time for that day’s action. We had assumed them engaged as well, with Wellington. In the confusion after, we did not find out until the following day...”
She swallowed hard. “Among the many rumors was that the French army had prevailed, was marching on Brussels. Next, that they had already breached the gate and entered the city. British civilians, the women and children in particular, were urged forcefully to relocate to Antwerp with as much haste as possible. Other wives of the Greys went, if they could arrange transport. I... did not. I cannot say why, precisely. I suppose I was little afeared on my own account. I had, as you’ve seen, the pistol given me.” A ghost of a smile curled her mouth.
Nathaniel’s thumb was moving on her shoulder now. Again, a reminder she washere, notthere.
“I cleaned and loaded it. And I waited.” She took a deep breath. “The wounded began to come in from Quatre Bras, and I learned the Greys arrived too late to be part of it. In time for the next engagement, but—” She stopped and shook her head. “I had to find something to occupy myself, waiting all that next day. I helped with the injured as I could. I was so fiercelyrelieved. Some of the Highlander officers were known to me, were gravely injured. And I was so bloodyrelievedthat Jamie wasn’t there. Nor any of the other men in the Greys. There was battle yet to come,and soon, and of course I ultimately was wrong to feel so relieved... but I did.”
It was becoming more difficult to continue. “There was a tremendous storm all that night and into the morning. And I hoped— But then came the sounds of battle again. The artillery and the guns, late in the morning. All that day, for hours, thunder without pause. We could smell the powder in the air. Several leagues removed from the battlefield, and we smelled it. I could not sit idle, waiting for word, or pace the park as some did to engage in frantic speculation. I continued assisting the wounded. It gave my hands something to do. My mind as well. Men were still staggering in from Quatre Bras, but that afternoon... came men from Waterloo. Men were lying openly in the streets by then. Not enough room in hospitals or private houses. I brought water, found bandages, eased pain where I could. Eased the dying.” She gulped. “I held one young Highlander’s hand. He’d taken a musket ball to the chest and another to his midsection...” It was hard to draw air properly. “I sang him one of my nan’s cradle songs. And I... closed his eyes, after.” He’d had blue eyes.
She took a deep, faltering breath. “It went much the same the next morning. Except I’d heard by then Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton of the Greys had been killed, along with many of the men—but still no list of names.”
Another breath. “So many wounded. English, Scottish, Belgic, Hungarian, Prussian. French officers taken prisoner. No end to the wounded arriving. For a week, did you know? And some directed straight to Antwerp if they were mobile. That is where I went later, to help with those in hospital. After.”
She wanted now to stop, but it was a wound in need of lancing.
“An officer found me the day after the battle to—to tell me what he knew. But the details of what became of Jamie, those I heard only because one of Jamie’s subalterns received adevastating wound to his leg. I was brought to him. He was... I...” She couldn’t continue after all.
Nathaniel turned his cheek against the crown of her head. Bearing witness.
Had anyone borne witness to the events he’d seen? Lived through?
“He did not survive, in the end. The cornet. The wound festered and claimed him less than a week later. If he’d been brought in sooner, perhaps, wasn’t made to lie in the mud and gore of the battlefield for nearly two days... but perhaps it would have been mortal in any case. So many of the Greys, cut down.”
