Geoffrey shook Lord John’s hand. “Good luck, and may God be with you and your men.”
Silent tears escaped from Elizabeth’s eyes. “I’d like to go home.”
“I should as well.” Geoffrey handed her his handkerchief and she accepted it gratefully.
On their way back to the house, they were surprised by the number of Belgians pouring out of their houses, embracing soldiers and wishing them well.
He stopped their carriage and they watched. The park was filled with men and equipment. The sound of drums filled the air. And wagons of all sorts passed by, heading south.
The next day dawned and silence had taken the place of the noise that accompanied the army’s march out of Brussels.
Geoffrey was on the heels of Vickers who brought Elizabeth’s tea. He was dressed and smelled of fresh air. “Have you already been out?”
“Yes.” Her bed dipped as he sat on it. “May I have a sip?”
She handed him the cup. “You may have a whole pot, if you wish. What were you doing?”
“I shall when we break our fast. Then I plan to get some sleep until someone tells me I’m needed.” He took a sip of tea and handed the cup back to her. “I changed and went back out to watch the troops leave.”
There would be a battle today, and she could do nothing. “I feel so useless. There must be something I can do.”
He pulled her into his arms. “If anyone can find a way to be of use, you will do it.”
She sank into him and for the first time in ages, put her arms around him and they remained that way for several long moments. “I’ll see you in the breakfast room.”
Geoffrey nuzzled her hair, and kissed her. Not a ravenous kiss, but one that was sweet and gentle. Maybe it was time to end her pretense, and tell him she loved him. Since arriving in Brussels he had changed. Surely he must return her affections. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
An hour or so later, as luck would have it, just as Elizabeth had finished giving her staff their instructions for the day and was searching for something to do, a message came for her from Georgy Lennox, one of the Duchess of Richmond’s daughters.
Dear Elizabeth,
I realize you do not know many people here, and I thought you might be interested joining a group of ladies who are making bandages for the wounded. We are meeting at the home of the Comtesse de Beaufort on rue de la Blanchisserie at ten this morning.
Your friend,
G. Lennox
Thank God. “The very thing I need at the moment,” she said to an empty room.
Before summoning Vickers, she wrote Geoffrey a note telling him where she was going and what she was doing. “Would you like to accompany me, or shall I have Kenton escort me to the countess’s home?”
“I’ll go, my lady,” Vickers said firmly. “I’d like to help as well.”
“I suppose they will need supplies.” They did not have much, but . . . “We can bring some of our sheets.”
“I’ll get them now.” Her maid went off.
By the time they arrived at the comtesse’s house, a group of ladies were already present, including Georgy, who greeted Elizabeth with a warm smile. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Thank you for your missive. I was wracking my brain for a way to assist.” She glanced around. “Where do you want these sheets?”
“Lady Harrington?” The comtesse came up to Elizabeth.
“Yes.”
“I am happy you are here. We met briefly last night. But you are new to our little community and it is impossible to meet many people for the first time and remember them all.”
“Thank you for understanding.” Elizabeth had a faint recollection of the woman and her husband. “We were, indeed, introduced last evening.”
