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They were all going, and the room emptied of colour like the face of a girl about to faint. The uniforms ebbed away out of every door, and all that was left was the white and pale colours of the gowns.
They had all stopped pretending it would never happen, Julia realized. This was reality. Tomorrow—no, today: the clock was striking two—battle would blast their world apart.
There was a chair just behind her; she sat down, her legs too weak to stand safely. Julia knew next to nothing about kissing, but it did seem that had been…heart felt. But Hal was normally so assured, so confident so…fluent. What had made him come out with that painful explanation of why he would not ask her to marry him?
Had she said anything, done anything that had led him to think she expected a proposal? Julia searched her conscience. No, not wit tingly.
Perhaps it was the prospect of battle and death that made him think he must not leave any unfinished business, any uncertainties. But Hal had fought in the Peninsula, he must have faced this point of crisis count less times before. And he came back safely then, she reminded herself, her fingers tight on her reticule as though she was holding on to him. He will be safe this time. He must be. He was trying to prepare her for the worst, being cruel to be kind, that was all. And his safety was more important than her feelings.
‘Julia?’ It was Lady Geraldine, pale and somehow less soignée than she had seemed only a few hours before. ‘We must go, my dear.’
‘Yes, of course, ma’am.’ She collected her cloak and followed the erect figure, her mind racing. This changed nothing of what she had resolved to do. ‘Ma’am?’
Lady Geraldine turned at the doorway. ‘Yes, dear?’
‘Would you be so kind as to drop me at the Baron vander Helvig’s house? I must change the arrangements for tomorrow.’
‘You will want to leave at first light,’ the older woman nodded. ‘Very wise. Would you like me to send the carriage back for you?’
‘Thank you, but I am sure he will give me an escort home, it is very close.’
Now it all depended on the baron. If he refused to help her with her plan, then she did not know what she was going to do.
‘You want me to take your mother and brother to Antwerp but to leave you? My dear Miss Julia, you cannot possibly stay in Brussels alone!’ The baron, roused from his usual amiable placidity, strode up and down the salon in his dressing gown. His house, like most in Brussels, was a blaze of light despite the hour, and the baron was wide awake supervising the packing of his silver.
‘I am going to stay in our apartment.’
‘But why should you want to?’ He threw up his hands and sat down, baffled.
‘I just cannot go,’ she replied. ‘I feel I have to stay, very strongly.’ She under stood better now, although she could not explain it to the baron, not without betraying her innermost feelings. Hal was going into battle, going to do his duty even though he knew the chances of death or wounding were very great. To run away would be like deserting him and once she had begun to think more clearly—with the icy clarity of terror, she supposed—she saw that there would be a need to nurse the wounded too. A shocking thing for a gently bred girl to do, but she was beyond caring about that, not with Hal’s life in the balance.
‘And what does your mother have to say about this?’
‘She does not know,’ Julia admitted. ‘I am relying on you, Baron, to say nothing until we are about to leave, then to go on, whatever she says. Otherwise,’ she continued as he began to splutter, ‘I will get out at t
he first stop and do my best to get back. Or run away when we get to Antwerp.’
He stared at her, apparently marshalling arguments to counter this insanity and failing.
‘And I must ask another favour, sir. Will you leave me that big English groom, George, and the gig?’
The baron’s beady, intelligent eyes studied her. ‘This is about one officer, is it not? I believe I could put a name to him. You want to be here, if he is wounded.’
‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘I cannot bring myself to leave. And if I had George armed with a shotgun, then I would be safe.’ She watched his frowning face for a moment, then added, ‘You see how much safer I will be if I can plan this properly and not just run back here from goodness knows where?’
‘Your mother is going to be beside herself,’ he said at last, and she let out the breath she had not realized she was holding.
‘Yes, but if she knows it is planned and I am guarded…’
‘Very well. I believe you will do this, whether I help you or not. I would say, come here and stay. But if the French take the city, this house is too tempting a target for looters. Your more modest apartment will be safer. I will send George and the horse and gig, and he can sleep in the stables at your lodgings. And I will bear your mother away and she will probably call down curses upon my head all the way to Antwerp.’
‘Thank you so much, Baron.’ Julia slumped back in her chair, too tired and relieved to care about deportment. ‘Might one of the footmen walk me home now?’
Chapter Thirteen
‘Julia!’ Mrs Tresilian’s voice rose in a shriek as the carriage rolled away from the house in Place de Leuvan in the dawn light. ‘Julia!’
‘Mama,’ she said as she ran along side, one hand on the edge of the window. ‘There is a note in your reticule that explains it all. I will be safe here with Madame and with George. Monsieur le Baron will tell you.’ Then she had to let go and stand there as the coachman took the turn towards the Anvers Gate and she was left without any of her family, for the first time in her life.
