What happened when Wellington left The Duchess of Richmond’s Ball? ~ The battles at Quatre-Bras, and Ligny

The Duke of WellingtonIt is well known that the night of the 15th of June closed on the Duke of Wellington receiving word while he attended The Duchess of Richmond’s ball in Brussels that Napoleon had attacked on the opposite side of Brussels to the point where Wellington was convinced Napoleon would approach. Wellington had his army ready to defend the road at Mons.

Napoleon attacked on the opposite side in two places, in the area beyond the village of Lingy, where Blucher’s Prussian army were gathered, and at Quatre-Bras, where a farm still stands on the edge of the crossroads.

There was one thing each of the leaders knew – the other would approach on a road, and wanted ownership of the roads. The roads between Brussels and Lingy were straight old Roman roads, perfect for an army to advance on, pulling their cannons and ammunition carts with them. But Wellington had been so convinced that Napoleon would attack on the North of Brussels he did not even have anyone in place to defend the significant crossroads of Quatre-Bras which was 22 miles from Brussels and about half way between Lingy and Mont St Jean where the Battle of Waterloo took place two days later.

Wellington admitted that he had been ‘humbugged‘ when he heard the news  in the coach house of the Duke of Richmond’s residence which had been converted into a ballroom for the night, he immediately withdrew to a room to study the maps and then messages were sent out to rally the British army and send them out onto the road to march towards the battles, miles away.

This is the farm still standing at the crossroads of Quatre-Bras

This is the farm still standing at the crossroads of Quatre-Bras

There was some luck on the Allied forces side, the Prince of Orange’s Dutch forces were closest to Quatre-Bras, and some of his men saw the French cavalry scouting around the undefended crossroads. When the Prince of Orange heard he immediately sent a battalion back to defend it and a message was sent to Wellington to tell him they expected to be attacked there at Dawn, and that each man only had ten rounds of ammunition left.

The first soldiers marched out of Brussels and the surrounding area by moonlight, at two in the morning, while others were gathered but had time to sleep on the streets where they’d been mustered.

Johnny Kincaid of the 95th Rifles records. ‘But we were every instant disturbed by ladies as well as gentlemen; some stumbling over us in the dark, some shaking us out of sleep, to be told the news...’

The streets of Brussels the men would have gathered and marched through

The streets of Brussels the men would have gathered and marched through

Another eye witness, a female who had travelled from England with her family as a spectator recorded how the streets of Brussels filled with soldiers and confusion. ‘Officers looking in vain for their servants, servants running in pursuit of their masters, baggage wagons were loading, trains of artillery harnessing… As the dawn broke the soldiers were seen assembling from all parts of town, in marching order, with their knapsacks on their backs, loaded with three days’s provisions… Numbers were taking leave of their wives and their children , perhaps for the last time… One poor fellow immediately under our windows, turned back again and again to bid his wife farewell, and take his baby once more in his arms; and I saw him hastily brush away a tear with the sleeve of his coat as he gave her back the child for the last time, wrung her hand, and ran off to join his company.‘

Lieutenant Basil Jackson described the exodus as the men marched out of the city. ‘First came the battalion of the 95th Rifles, dressed in dark green, and with black accoutrements. The 28th Regiment followed, then the 42nd Highlanders, marching so steadily that the sable plumes of their bonnets scarcely quivered.‘

Wellington reached Quatre Bras around 9.30 am, some of the British army had already arrived, and he saw that they were positioned as effectively as they could be. He rode on then to meet Blucher, the head of the Prussian army, at the Brye windmill near Lingy, Wellington warned Blucher that his position

The ridge where the French cannons were positioned to fire down on the village of Lingy

The ridge where the French cannons were positioned to fire down on the village of Lingy

would be impossible to defend, as Blucher had placed his army in a hollow, giving the French the advantage of a hill to place their cannon on, and they were also positioned along a stream which had a narrow point facing the French, which left the soldiers at the front exposed to attack from more than one side. The two men agreed then that they would come to the others aid, depending on how the day progressed and where Napoleon focused his attack.

He attacked in both places, he sent Marshal Ney, who had arrived hours before, to lead the force attacking Quatre-Bras, and he lead the forces attacking the Prussians at Lingy, taking up a position in a windmill to be able to oversee the battle.

Had Ney attacked early there would have still been only 8,000 in the Allied forces compared to Ney’s 40,000 men, but Ney did not attack until the afternoon, and every hour that passed more soldiers reached the crossroads of Quatre-Bras.

Ney’s men were initially in this farm further along the road, and at the rear of this was a lake, meaning the majority of fighting took place in the mile between this farm and the crossroads. Below are pictures of the field where a lot of the fighting occurred, and the old Roman Road which was surrounded by a wood that meant artillery could hide and just shoot anyone attempting to approach.

The farm the French occupied near the crossroads of Quatre-Bras

The farm the French occupied near the crossroads of Quatre-Bras

The Roman road surrounded by a wood in 1815 where artillery hid and slaughtered anyone attempting to progress along the road.

The Roman road surrounded by a wood in 1815 where artillery hid and slaughtered anyone attempting to progress along the road.

One the first companies to arrive were the 42nd Regiment, the Highlanders, who the night before had been dancing jigs at the Duchess’s ball. They were sent in immediately. They were hidden amid the tall rye crop, which I talked about in a previous post on Waterloo, ‘we strode and groped our way through as fast as we could. By the time we reached the field of clover on the other side we were very much straggled; however, we united in line as fast as time and our speedy advance would permit. The Belgic skirmishers (the men who were positioned ahead of the artillery, in twos, who acted like snipers, trying to bring down officers) retired through our ranks and in an instant we were on their victorious pursuers. Our sudden appearance seemed to paralyse their advance. The singular appearance of our dress, (kilts and tartan bonnets) combined no doubt with our sudden debut, tended to stagger their resolution: we were on them.’

These were fields most of the fighting took place with in in the Battle of Quatre-Bras

These were fields most of the fighting took place with in in the Battle of Quatre-Bras

But what the highlanders had not realised was that the cavalry approaching on their flank, who they thought were the Brunswickers, part of the Allied army, were in fact the French cavalry. When it was realised they hurried into the closest format they could achieve to a square, even trapping some of the French cavalry among them. Who were pulled from their horses (this was the moment I mentioned when I spoke about squares, when the Prince of Orange told the 69th not to form, and they were lost).

The Highlanders were scandalized as they formed a square, when their Batallion commander who had already been injured and was being carried off the field by four men, was attacked. He and the four men carrying him were killed. The Highlanders considered it murder, not war. They attacked the French prisoners after the battle in revenge.

The Battle at Quatre-Bras went on for hours, with Ney continually sending the cavalry into attack. But the day ended with the Allied forces being successful, and Ney pulling back to the farm where he had been that morning. He’d succeeded in stopping Wellington supporting the Prussian army though.

Wellington retired back to the village of Genappe and stayed at an inn for the night, waiting to hear from Lingy. 15,000 men had been lost.

An old farm at the entrance to Lingy, which the Prussians were stationed around

An old farm at the entrance to Lingy, which the Prussians were stationed around

At Lingy the fighting was just as fierce. With Napoleon’s cannon on the hills about the village, it was bombarded. When the French attacked, it is said in records, the bodies in the streets were two or three deep and blood ran about them. And the streets are wide, as you can see in my pictures below. A soldier described their entry to the village ‘When we reached the church our advance was halted by a stream and the enemy, in houses, behind walls, and on rooftops inflicted considerable casualties by musketery, grapeshot and cannon balls.‘

Another experienced soldier describes the terror of the scene, when he was used to battle, it had shocked even him. ‘A vast number of corpses, both men and horses, were scattered about, horribly mutilated by shells and cannon balls. The scene was different from the valley where almost all the dead preserved a human appearance because cannister, musket balls and bayonets were practially the only instruments of destruction used there…‘ I shan’t write the contrast of the scene he then added about the slope, it is a horrible description of what happens to men and animals hit by cannon fire.

Where the Prussians made their last stand before withdrawing

Where the Prussians made their last stand before withdrawing

The plaque which commemorates the end of this terrible battle

The plaque which commemorates the end of this terrible battle

The battle ended with the Prussians making a last stand at the point where this property stands. Blucher himself at one point came to make another push, and fell from his horse, but his men covered him with a cloak so the French would not recognise and target him, and got him out of there. The Prussians had been fighting over Lingy all afternoon and evening and ground in the village had been lost then won back over and over again, and no help had arrived from Wellington because his troops were trapped at Quatre-Bras trying to keep the crossroads open so that Blucher could use them if needed. It was then the Prussians realised that with the position of the village in the dip, and Wellington’s cannon on the hill, they would never permanently hold the village, it was better to let it go, and so with 16,000 men lost, and 8000 deserters, the Prussians withdrew.

An eyewitness account describes their faces as black from the gunpowder smoke, and layered with dust, while their uniforms were ripped, revealing skin where they had crawled through hedges to get away.

While Blucher recovered from his fall, Gneisenau, his Chief of Staff took over command, and an eyewitness describes the chaos as the army regrouped having fled. ‘I found him in a farmhouse. The village had been abandoned by its inhabitants and every building was crammed with wounded. No light, no drinking water, no rations. We were in a small room where an oil-lamp burned dimly. Wounded men lay moaning on the floor. The General himself was seated on a barrel of pickled cabbage, with only four or five people gathered about him. Scattered troops passed through the village all night long, no-one knew whence they came or where they were going… but morale had not sunk. Every man was looking for his comrades so as to restore order.’

So Napoleon had won one battle at Lingy as the sun rose on the 17th of June 1815, and when the Prussians regrouped, they decided to take a route,away from the main road to avoid Napoleon, and join Wellington. Luckily for them the French did not follow, they saw the 8000 deserters walking on another road, away from the fight, and believed that the Prussians were walking away from the war.

And Wellington had won the battle for the precious crossroads, but now the crossroads led to Napoleon, they were no longer precious. The Allied forces spent their night sleeping on the ground around the crossroads, attending their wounded. Then in the morning Wellington held on, waiting for word from Blucher, waiting to hear if the Prussians had won or lost. The scouts came back with the bad news, and so having loaded the wounded on to carts, Wellington made the decision to withdraw, he would let the crossroads go, and move to defend the road at Mont St Jean where a fork in the road, and the terrain, allowed Wellington the opportunity to fight defensively in his favourite formation and funnel the French into the assault his army planned.

The narrow river at Genappe, which slowed the Anglo-Dutch withdrawal down

The narrow river at Genappe, which slowed the Anglo-Dutch withdrawal down

They spent the day of the 17th, pulling back, and Wellington had 30,000 men and 70 cannons to move a long a single narrow road. The carts full of the wounded were sent first, and then the artillery followed. The cavalry were kept at the rear with the light artillery, the riflemen, who would defend the retreat. It took just as much skill as a battle to manage a withdrawal. The land along the road undulated every 500 yards, and so cannon could be pulled back and fired, and then pulled back again, defending the retreating forces. The worst point was the bridge in the middle of the village of Genappe, which created a bottle neck for the cannon to pass through.

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That night, the night of the 17th of June, a storm hit, that was described like a tropical storm the rain fell so hard, in torrents.

This is very battle based, and yet I had to learn all of this for Paul’s perspective in The Lost Love of a Soldier and it was so moving to walk about the places where things occurred, I wanted to share the details here. Being there gave me an understanding I hadn’t had before.

If you would like to read my fictional story set around the lead up to the Battle of Waterloo, then now is the time to do it, Harper Collins have put on some amazing deals this month to commemorate the battle. In one country the deal only lasts two weeks, though, I have not put the amounts as they are different in different countries, just click on the cover of The Lost Love of a Soldier in the side bar to find out your great cut price deal.

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Reckless in Innocence ~ A Free Historical Romance story ~ Part Thirty-six

Reckless in Innocence

for my Historical Romance readers ❤ © Jane Lark Publishing rights belong to Jane Lark, this should not be recreated in any form without prior consent from Jane LarkReckless in Innocence

Reckless in Innocence

(an early Jane Lark story that is not at all associated with the Marlow Intrigues)

~ Read the earlier parts listed in the index 

~

Chapter Fourteen 

 

Marcus

“Marcus…” Jason’s shoulder rested against the embrasure of the open French-door which led onto the terrace. The night was cold for late September. The air was near freezing and damp with mist. Marcus turned away and uncaring of the cold leant his hands on the balustrade where he had once stood with Elizabeth watching the deer. Now he faced the fog, looking out into pitch black.

“What are you doing?” Jason’s footsteps crossed the terrace towards Marcus.

“I cannot sleep. If the night was clear I would not wait for dawn, I would go to her now, but it is too dark to see within a foot from my face and too far to ride with a lantern.”

“There are but a few hours until the cock crows. Those hours can make little difference.”

“Then why does it feel as though they do? Why does it feel as if I must reach her with all speed or I may never see her again?”

Jason sighed, his hand resting on Marcus’s shoulder, “We will find her, and when she is safe and well, you will have a lifetime to repent.”

Marcus laughed bitterly. “I wish now that I had never heard her father’s words. I should have known that she was not involved. I would have known if I had stopped to think. What a fool I have been, an arrogant self-centred bloody fool.” He shook his head. “And I am not like our father. I have spent my life believing that I am, living under the damned curse of it. But I am not. I enjoy it here at Larchfield. There is more fulfilment working in the stables here than there has ever been for me in the pursuits of town. I see now what a shallow life I led.” Marcus looked over his shoulder and smiled at Jason, then turned and rested a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “And you have known this for years. You and Angela have had this treasure for years and hidden it from me.”

Jason smiled. “We have never hidden it from you. You have always been too blinkered to see. And, dear brother,” Jason tapped his arm, then let go, “you have no idea of the full measure of it yet, you have merely peeked into the treasure chest.”

“We ought to at least try to sleep,” Marcus answered. “I intend to ride at a fast pace tomorrow. We shall find her if I have to knock on every bloody door in London.”

“Very well, but promise me one thing, Marcus, before we retire for the night?”

Marcus nodded.

“You will never tell Angela how much she is worth? She would take horrendous advantage of me.”

Marcus laughed.

*     *     *

Encouraging his horse on at an urgent walk, with a tap of his heels, Marcus guided the animal into the stables of his town house, Jason riding beside him. As a groom caught the bridle of his mare, Marcus leaned forward and slid his leg across the saddle, then dropped with a leap to the ground. He began calling orders to the staff the moment his feet touched the cobbled yard. “My stallion is at Limpsfield, at the Bell Inn.” They had changed horses twice on the ride from Larchfield. “Send someone to collect him as soon as you can. I would have him returned to my stable by tomorrow. Our mounts are from the Crown at Mitcham. Let them rest and take them back. The groomsman at the Crown will direct you to the horses that need to be returned to Limpsfield.”

He and Jason had kept the pace throughout their journey and even now Marcus only intended to grasp some refreshment quickly then saddle a fresh horse and set out again.

“Where will we start?” Jason swung down from the stallion he had acquired from the small inn at Mitcham.

Rubbing his hand over his face, Marcus fought the weariness of fatigue from lack of sleep. “I suppose that we should start at the beginning, at her parents’ home.”

“I have spoken to the neighbours. They have said that they know nothing of her whereabouts,” Jason responded.

Marcus could still not quite grasp the effort his brother had already put into worrying over and searching for Elizabeth. Marcus should have looked himself. She had not, not answered that day he’d called after he’d seen her mother, she had already been gone. Her maid had come to him for help the day before too. He’d wilfully ignored all the signs of trouble. It was that thought which had been on his heels all the way to town. He should have started looking for her then. During their desperate ride back to town he’d sworn he would find her, yet here in London the task seemed so hopeless. They had been riding through streets and houses for over half an hour since entering London, Elizabeth could be in any one of them.

“Has her parents’ house been cleared?” Marcus called as he headed for some quick refreshment.

“It had not, but it could be by now.”

“Then that is where we start,” Marcus hollered across the stable yard, the heels of his boots echoing on the cobble with the haste of his steps.

Only an hour later they arrived at the humble residence in which Elizabeth had lived. A cart, hitched to two solid working horses, stood in front of the house and it was piled high with goods. Marcus drew his horse to a halt, dismounted and tied his reins to the railings as Jason did the same. The door to the Derwents’ former home was wide open and two men were busy lifting out the sofa on which Marcus had spent several hours of his life in recent months. It felt wrong, very wrong to see Elizabeth’s life in pieces upon the pavement.

“Have you seen anything of the family?” Marcus questioned a labourer walking from the cart back towards the house. When the man did not stop, Marcus followed him onto the steps leading to the front door.

“Not as I know, Sir. They had cleared out before the bailiffs knocked the door in. Left all this stuff, though. It isn’t my job to care about the families. If a fool spends more money than he’s got, then it isn’t my problem now, is it, sir?”

“No, no, it is not, but I was a friend of the daughter. I am looking for the daughter, not the man. She has been missing since her father was taken to jail. As you will understand, I am sure, I am worried about her disappearance and concerned in case anything ill has befallen her, if there is any news?”

“As I said, sir, I don’t know nothin’ about the families.”

“Then may we search the house? There may be something that will suggest where she has gone.”

Marcus stepped sideways, he’d damn well search it whether the man agreed or not.

The labourer glanced back at his colleagues who were loading the cart. “Do you agree with that, Bill?” He called to one of the men.

Marcus waited, knowing that the job would be easier done with consent.

The labourer turned back and walked a couple of steps towards the cart. “This gent is looking for the daughter who was ‘ere. He’s after a forwarding address. He wishes to look for himself, Bill?”

The man, dressed in a long grey coat, who’d been organising the loading of the cart stopped what he was doing and walked towards them. “The majority of the rooms is empty, mister.”

“The young woman’s bedchamber?”

“All the bedchambers ‘ave been cleared.”

“What of the man’s office? A letter, an address book, anything that may give me a clue? There may be friends of whom I am unaware. It would give me somewhere to begin my search, if nothing more.”

“The office has not yet been cleared.” The supervisor’s eyes narrowed and his chin dimpled as his lips pursed.

Marcus reached into his pocket and withdrew some coins. “Here.” He also deliberately identified himself, as he held out his hand towards the man. “Marcus Campbell, Duke of Tay. I am a close friend of Miss Elizabeth Derwent. I must search the office and I would rather do it with your agreement.”

The man mumbled something and took the money. Then shrugged. “Take the address book, Y’ur Grace. If you can find it. It ‘as no value to us.”

“Thank you, good man.” Relief swelled in Marcus’s voice, as it also swelled in his chest, and without hesitation he climbed the steps, two at a time, with Jason in pursuit, heading for her father’s office.

Marcus slid the desk drawers open, looking for obvious signs of communication, flicking through papers. When he saw nothing of interest he slammed each draw shut.

Nothing. There was nothing that gave them any information. He sat back in her father’s chair staring at Jason, and then his gaze fell to the desk as he tried to think of what to do. Some sheets of paper lay on top of the desk. He ran the tips of his fingers across a blotting paper. His eyes were drawn to the line of a P and he thought he saw from that the outline of Percy. Had Elizabeth sat in this seat and written to Percy again?

“Jason, look at this.” Marcus pointed at the marks. “Do you see what I see?”

Jason leaned forwarded and then nodded. “It looks like Percy.”

Picking up the page, Marcus folded it and thrust it into his inside pocket, rising from the seat. He was unable to speak. Had she begged the man he had warned her away from to save her? His steps were heavy but swift as he left the house and returned to his saddle. He had to find her. Percy had no conscience and Percy knew that she carried Marcus’s child. Had he decided to use Elizabeth to take revenge on Marcus’s family? Marcus felt sick – this was all his fault.

Their next stop was Percy’s town house.

“Lord Percy is not at home, Your Grace.” The pompous butler intoned.

“And the woman, Miss Derwent?” Marcus did not hesitate in facing the subject. If she was here, then he would know it, and he would not be denied access.

The butler’s face twisted into an expression of confusion.

She was not here. Marcus could see it immediately from the man’s surprise. He had no idea who Marcus was speaking of.

“Do you know where I may find him?” Marcus challenged the butler, without giving him chance to answer his previous question. He had no time to waste.

“I am sorry, Your Grace, he did not give me any particular direction. I know that he is commonly in White’s at this hour.”

“Do you expect him home this evening?” It suddenly occurred to him that Percy may have put Elizabeth up elsewhere. If he intended to make her his mistress then perhaps he had taken rooms for her.

“I am uncertain, Your Grace. He did not arrive home last evening. I have had no word from him today.”

That was enough. That was all he would glean from this man. Turning away, Marcus forgot to even offer a word of thanks in his haste. Percy had her, certainly… but where?

Their next stop was White’s, where Marcus slid a coin into the hand of the porter. But again there had been no sign of Percy for a couple of days.

Frustrated, Marcus turned away, his face reflecting the turmoil that spun in his head. Was Percy with her now? Marcus’s heart hit like a hammer in his chest just at the thought. Where? Running his palm across his face to brush away the fatigue, Marcus walked out of White’s, Jason followed, his feet striking the stairs behind Marcus.

Marcus glanced back at his brother.“I am glad you are accompanying me. I cannot say I would like fear as my only a companion. I have no idea where he may have taken her.”

Marcus lifted himself into the saddle. Jason set a foot in his stirrup, gripped the saddle and pulled himself up. “I have an idea, Marcus.”

Marcus turned his horse and looked at the routes they could take from here, uncertain which direction to turn, or where to go. “Speak,” he said to Jason, he had no ideas himself.

Flexing his fingers, Jason pulled on his leather gloves. “I know Lord Percy’s man of business. If Percy had rented property recently, he would know.”

“You are a genius, Jason,” Marcus exclaimed. “Which way do we head?”

And so another half hour on and Marcus was hammering on the door of the solicitors’ office, his eyes turning to the brass plaque embossed with the names Barriclough, Coulport and Preacher. He had been knocking for at least ten minutes without reply, and there was no sign of life within. They had a way to reach her, and the information was barred from them by a single door. The side of his fist struck the wood one last time.

“I would say that Barriclough, Coulport and Preacher have gone home.” Jason quipped beside him, touching Marcus’s shoulder. Marcus faced his brother. “It will not be too long before its dark.” Jason raised his eyebrows in implication.

Marcus laughed uneasily at that, the tension inside him overflowing. “And what; you fancy theft?” God, the idea was tempting. He looked back at the offices before turning his gaze to Jason again, actually considering it.

“What are our other choices? We can find a magistrate, tell him the story and seek legal access to the building. But I would be loath to do that. Coulport knows Angela’s story. He has kept it quiet, yet if we bring in a magistrate then the truth may come out and the information would be open to the vultures of the ton. Elizabeth’s situation would be equal fodder for the gossips. I would put neither woman through that if there is any other choice. Or we can wait until morning and approach Coulport ourselves. He would speak, I am sure, but not without persuasion, and it will take time to encourage him to talk.”

Jason fell silent. Marcus understood the unspoken question and knew his brother’s desire. He nodded. They would wait a couple of hours, until it was dark enough to break into the solicitor’s office, and then they would damn well do it. A peer of the bloody realm would play common thief. He’d do it for Elizabeth. He’d do anything for Elizabeth now he knew she was genuine and he had been a fool.

“Let us go home. I am in need of a change of clothes and a wash.”

“A meal would not go amiss,” Jason added.

To be continued…

~

If you cannot wait until next week for more of Jane Lark’s writing there’s plenty to read right now, and do nt miss your chance for the great Magical Weddings summer reading box set, containing my supper sexy story The Jealous Love of a Scoundrel 99c or 99p

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To read the Marlow Intrigues series, you can start anywhere, but the actual order is listed below ~ and click like to follow my Facebook Page not to miss anything…

 The Marlow Intrigues

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The Lost Love of Soldier ~ The Prequel #1 ~ A Christmas Elopement began it all 

The Illicit Love of a Courtesan #2 

Capturing The Love of an Earl ~ A Free Novella #2.5 

The Passionate Love of a Rake #3 

The Desperate Love of a Lord ~ A second Free Novella #3.5 

The Scandalous Love of a Lord #4

The Dangerous Love of a Rogue #5

The Secret Love of a Gentleman #6

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Jane Lark is a writer of authentic, passionate and emotional Historical and New Adult Romance stories, and the author of a No.1 bestselling Historical Romance novel in America, ‘The Illicit Love of a Courtesan’.Click here to find out more about Jane’s books, and see Jane’s website www.janelark.co.uk to learn more about Jane. Or click  ‘like’ on Jane’s Facebook  page to see photo’s and learn historical facts from the Georgian, Regency and Victorian eras, which Jane publishes there. You can also follow Jane on twitter at @janelark