Gingerly touching his right ear, Matt’s fingers came away bloody. “I thought it missed me. No matter! If we can hold for the next two hours, we shall have them.”
“Be careful, Matt!” Long shouted back, wheeling his horse. “I’ll see you in Brussels!”
Brussels, where Serena waited. In the oddest way he’d felt her beside him all this day; almost as if he were within reach of her thoughts.
If he got another chance, he would tell her what he should have said that last morning. He had fallen in love twice in his life, and both times with the same woman. The person he once was, and the person he had become, each loved her with a completeness he’d only discovered possible throughout this long day.
If he was given the chance, he would tell her. But time was running out. The Prussians were coming, but until they arrived, Wellington ordered “hold to the last man,” and that they must do or perish.
By early evening, after an afternoon that left all three women drained, Kendall’s fever broke. Although his breathing was still not as strong as Serena would like, tears sprang to her eyes at the doctor’s satisfied nod.
“I don’t know how you did it, but it seems Lord Kendall will live.”
“Of course he will,” Cecily stated firmly, although her soft lips quivered. “I plan to be Lord Kendall’s bride.”
The doctor’s eyes flicked over Cecily’s white-gold curls hanging in damp ringlets against her cheeks and neck, and her sherry eyes blazing in her colorless little face, and then he smiled.
“Had I known that, my dear, I would have had no doubt of his full recovery.”
Hearing his kind words, Cecily slumped back down in the chair, and picking up Kendall’s hand, wept all over it.
Now that Kendall was out of danger, new energy sent Serena out into the street seeking news. A surprisingly helpful Frederick was beside her. He had forsaken his ridiculous attire and airs, and with a sheepish “That all seems a bit out of place, considering,” escorted her to the Brandenburg Gate.
The city was wild with conflicting reports; some claimed a French victory, then just as quickly an English. Just as the whispers had built in a crescendo around her at the Duchess of Richmond’s ball only three nights before, when it seemed a lifetime ago, so the crowds shouted to each other.
“Hook-nose beat Boney once and for all!”
“It’s over, let us flee at once.”
“…but the cost was high.”
“The French are on their way…”
Serena could not find a reliable report. She remained at the gate, long after Frederick begged her to return home. Wagons full of wounded poured into the city, their stories as conflicting as the rumors. Resigned, Serena returned home.
She sent a dozen footmen, and even the superior little butler, Andre, all over the city for news of Matt or Longford. When she could learn nothing, she became so frustrated, she actually broke down in tears for a moment, shocking Aunt Lavinia so much, she did the same.
Her aunt was put to bed by her solicitous maid and Buckle, who informed Serena she always knew Lavinia had a heart, it was just so very well hidden.
It was just as well Aunt Lavinia had succumbed to tears, for surely she would have fallen into a fit of the vapors had she witnessed Serena convincing her cousin Frederick to accompany her to the battlefield.
“Serena, it just isn’t the thing,” he protested, his owl eyes nearly starting from his head.
“Frederick, I can’t bear another moment of this waiting!” Fear drove her to desperate measures. “If you won’t go, I shall go alone, I promise you.”
She could see from the horrified glaze in his eyes, he believed her. “I need an hour to get a wagon and team together. Then I’ll take you,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Thankfully Mother has taken to her bed.”
Serena echoed those sentiments, grateful that Cecily had fallen into an exhausted slumber curled up beside Kendall’s bed, his hand firmly clasped on her lap, and Buckle was also deeply asleep, so could not witness her departure in the early dawn.
During the long, torturous hours of this wait, she’d discovered what it was to be a soldier’s wife. She refused to consider the reasons Matt had not returned from his duties. With courage and a sense of purpose, she set out to find him.
The roads were glutted with traffic. As each wagonful of wounded passed, Frederick would ask if it carried Lord Blackwood of Wellington’s staff. Waiting for each reply, Serena folded her hands and offered a silent prayer, for what she wasn’t certain. Should she pray to find Matt among the wounded or should she pray for a miracle?
She was not alone in her search for a loved one. Others searched the roadside on foot, calling out names. Equipment had been abandoned and horses roamed aimlessly, some of them limping and wounded.