Chapter Thirty-Two
The Day of the Ball
Lady Lavinia’s Ball, as Clem had taken to calling their joint effort, was set for the middle weekend of Prinny’s two-week celebrations to mark the end of the war with Boney.
Last year had been a summer filled with celebrations and a sense of relief as people rejoiced in life resuming its pre-war pleasure.
Then Bonaparte had escaped from Elba, and a second series of battles had drawn everyone in. The decisive victory at Waterloo led to another round of celebrations.
All of London was abuzz, and the first week of daily events was not dimming the enthusiasm of the populace for more of the same. It seemed to Clem there was an almost desperate need to celebrate, as though the grander the festivities, the more they could ensure there was no third war.
As the day of the ball dawned, Clem woke early—anxious and excited, but increasingly hopeful.
Neither Rufus nor Will had made her privy to their plans, but she acknowledged they would not have found her at home above an hour of any day in the week leading up to the ball as she sought, bought, entreated and cajoled support for the cause.
She dressed quickly and simply, knowing she would not be able to resist helping with the preparations. Papa had graciously agreed to allow a sizable contingent of their staff to assist with decorating the venue.
Glancing around Lavinia’s ballroom, now draped in yards of material, her country’s flag proudly hanging above the dais at one end, Clem hoped Rufus was right that this was really the end of the wars with Napoleon.
Two footmen raised a painted banner above the doorway to the supper room, and a burst of pride filled her.
Support Our Returned Soldiers.
The red letters stood out boldly against the white material, a proud statement of the cause she had embraced.
Lavinia, Rufus, and even her parents were supportive of her “charity work”, as they called it.
But it was the darkness she’d sensed within Rufus that day in the More Chapel, and her encounter with the one-legged soldier outside that had motivated her to do something practical to assist returning veterans.
And then Will’s return. He was whole in body, but similar shadows lay in his eyes when he thought she wasn’t watching and that made her more determined than ever to help however she could.
For Will, and for all the men who had fought for their country.
Bowing her head, she prayed:
Dear Lord, I pray I can help Will to overcome this darkness.
I pray I can be enough to bring light back into his life.
Please let him and Rufus find a way so that Will and I can be together, and please bless this small act of charity tonight.
Through our efforts may we bring light and life to other men who return scarred in body and mind from battle. Amen.
“Excuse me, my lady.”
She opened her eyes and met Mary’s gaze. “What is it, Mary?”
“The men want to know if you’re happy with the position of the banner?”
Clem stood back and eyed the placement above the doors to the supper room. “It’s perfect, and the decorations are wonderful.”
“If it’s not an impertinence, my lady, the staff have all contributed according to their means. They wanted me to give you this for the hospital fund.” Mary held out a bag made of a coarse, dark blue material and tied with string. It bulged over the sides of her hand as she offered it to Clem.
The room had gone quiet, and Clem glanced around, seeing all eyes turned on her and Mary as she accepted the bag. It was heavy with coin and charity and hope.
“Many of us have someone who was sent to the war. Some returned damaged, others didn’t come home at all, but everyone wants to help. If you think it’s appropriate—” Her voice trailed away, and she clasped her hands in front of her chest.
Clem felt as though every person in the room was holding their breath as they waited for her response.
“Mary, everyone—” Clem held the bag and looked around the room. Footmen and maids stood paused in the midst of their tasks, some on top of ladders, others with garlands bunched in their hands, but all eyes were turned to her. They watched and waited to see how she received their gift.
Tears pricked her eyes as she smiled at each person in the room.
Raising her voice, she said, “Thank you, one and all. Your kindness warms my heart. I will make especial mention of your generosity when I present the funds raised from this evening’s event to those in charge of the Royal Chelsea Hospital. ”
“Thank you, my lady.” Mary curtsied and turned back to finish arranging dance cards on a small, circular table, and the activity slowly resumed in the rest of the room.
Clem held tightly to the bag of small coins. Heavy in her hands, what it represented was such generous support from those who themselves had little to spare. So much money raised from both her parents’ and Lavinia’s staff. This act of generosity…
She shook her head and swallowed the lump in her throat. Never again would she doubt that humankind was capable of extraordinary kindness and care once they knew of others’ needs.
The day was clear and bright, the sort of weather that invited people to spend time outdoors.
Even Rufus indulged. A few minutes spent walking in the sunshine would do his overworked mind some good. He’d spent the past few days working in his Whitehall office or his study to the exclusion of any social life.
When his driver dropped him off two blocks from his club, he strolled, carefree for precious minutes.
He felt a little like he had when he’d skived off class at university, intent on nothing but a good time.
Skiving. The Spanish word, learned when he was with Wellesley in Spain, suited his mood and the day as the sun warmed his face in blessing.
A sudden longing for the freedom of his country estate gripped him.
Soon, he told himself. When he had a plan in place to ensure Boney would not escape again.
White’s was quiet at this early hour of the day. Rufus requested coffee and headed to the lounge to wait, but when he entered the room, his preferred seat in the far corner was occupied by a gentleman engrossed in the newspaper.
Before annoyance could flare, the newspaper was lowered, and a grinning face peered over the top of the paper. Laurent had beaten him to the meeting and appropriated his chair.
Following Laurent’s first meeting with Antoine, a second had been arranged hard on the heels of that successful contact. Rufus hoped today would bring further details confirming his suspicion about the method of liberating Boney.
He took the seat Will usually occupied and leaned back. “Any developments?”
“Bonjour to you, too, Rufus.”
Rufus waved away the nicety and pinned Laurent with a glare that had turned other men into stuttering schoolchildren.
He wanted to be done with work and go for a ride after too many days cooped up in an office.
Niceties merely expanded unnecessary conversation, especially when such a fine day beckoned.
Laurent refused to cow, simply shrugging it off.
“Eh bien. Trust is beginning to grow. Antoine and another man—he is a low-level diplomat, but I didn’t want to appear too eager by asking his name or too many questions yet—they chatted with me.
Their questions were carefully phrased, but they now believe my family and I wish to see Napoleon return. ”
“Good. What else?”
“I wasn’t permitted to remain in the room when what I believe to be the main committee met, but as I was leaving, one asked about using the Montgolfier design to effect an escape.”
Rufus frowned. Where had he heard that name?
“It is clear you are no Frenchman. Before my family left France for Canada, the Montgolfier brothers invented a hot air balloon. In November of 1783, two other men, Jean-Francois Pilatre de Rozier and Francois d’Arlandes, flew the balloon over Paris.
My father often told me the story of seeing this magnificent balloon rise from the Bois de Boulogne. ”
“Ingenious,” Rufus said. “I read about their flight when I was at university. But they flew only five or so miles. Have there been significant advances that would allow such a vessel to safely fly the vast distance over the Atlantic Ocean?”
Coffee was brought to their table, and both men waited for it to be poured and a cup served to each of them. When the footman departed, Laurent shrugged and drank some coffee, then set the cup and saucer down.
“I do not know, but surely there must have been advances. It’s more than thirty years since that first manned flight.”
“Assuming an escape by hot air balloon is being considered, Boney’s loyalists still need to convey both balloon and a means of fueling it to the island, which brings us back to the need for a ship and a captain we can trust. We must control access to and egress from St. Helena.”
Tomorrow, when the ball was over and Will and Clem were—hopefully—together at last, Rufus would turn his full attention to the problem. In all of England, if not within London, there had to be a shipowner willing to risk public opprobrium in service of the crown.
“This fundraising ball tonight,” Laurent said, “I have secured an invitation with a generous donation to the cause.”
Rufus finished his cup of coffee and rose. “Then I will see you there. A word of warning, however; unless you wish for a bloody nose and black eye, do not attempt to win Lady Clementine’s attentions.”
“Pourquoi pas?”
“Haven’t you guessed why? She and Will are in love.”