Helene was only able to secure a seat on a coach to Brussels that would depart the next day, distressing, because she feared Rhys would leave Brussels before she could return there. Rhys had nothing in Brussels to hold him and he’d be eager to return to his regiment.
No matter. She’d travel to Paris alone if she must. She’d find the 44th Regiment and learn of Rhys’s whereabouts from there.
She took a room in the inn for the night and, to pass the afternoon, strolled around Melle, visiting a few shops that sold silk, linen, lace and wool cloth from the manufacturers in Ghent. She purchased a linen handkerchief edged in lace as a remembrance of this place and the decision she’d made here. She put it in her pocket next to the handkerchief she’d taken from Rhys’s trunk before the battle. At dusk she returned to the inn’s tavern for dinner.
The inn was filled with other travellers like herself, but the tavern was nothing like the ones in Brussels where she and Wilson had searched for David—and found Rhys. Gone were the colourful uniforms and rowdy voices of the Allied soldiers that had filled those taverns, replaced by several English travellers and local people.
At the table next to Helene sat two English couples who, Helene could not help but overhear, had travelled to Belgium for the singular purpose of visiting the Waterloo battlefield. The battlefield had been cleaned up—meaning the corpses of thousands of men and horses had been removed—and had become a desirable destination for tourists, especially those coming in hopes of finding souvenirs left behind by the dead soldiers. Helene shuddered. She never wanted to see Waterloo again. She wanted nothing to remind her of the countless dead corpses that blanketed the fields between La Haye Sainte and Hougoumont.
The English couples’ noisy conversation also stirred up vivid memories of the wounded men Helene had tended that awful day. She could again see their pain-contorted faces, hear their cries and smell blood, gunpowder and death. She lowered her head as the two couples went on and on about the glory of the battle and the greatness of the victory. They had apparently read much about the battle and spoke of the defence of Hougoumont, of the grand cavalry charge, of how the British troops stood fast when the French attacked, of the routing of Napoleon’s elite Imperial Guard.
Helene could stand it no more.
‘Stop!’ she cried. She rose from her chair and pushed her way past them, hurrying to the door, eager to escape.
Suddenly she was directly facing a man who had just entered the tavern and was caught for a moment in the unexpected sight of him.
‘Rhys?’
He closed the distance between them and, heedless of all the people watching them, enveloped her in his arms. ‘Helene. Helene.’
She laughed and cried as she savoured the feel of his arms, the sound of his voice, the scent of him.
‘I cannot believe it. Are you real?’ She touched his face.
He released her but grasped her hand and pulled her out of the tavern and into the momentarily empty hall of the inn. ‘I am real.’
She shook her head, still half in disbelief. ‘Why are you here?’
He slid his hands to her shoulders. ‘Merely to rest my horse and spend the night. I did not expect to find you here. I was riding to Ostend to find you. To tell you—’
She put her fingers on his lips. ‘No. Do not tell me. I am so weary of people telling me what to think, what I must do. I have something to tell you. I sent David on with the wonderful Marston—he is a treasure, by the way—I sent them on so I could return to you. I have decided that I do not want to return to Yarford. I do not want a life of wealth and ease. I want to be with you. If that means danger, I do not care. If it means hardship, I do not care. I want to be with you.’
Rhys laughed and hugged her again, before holding her at arm’s length once more. ‘My turn.’
Words so familiar, spoken often when they’d been children.
‘I came to tell you that I made a decision,’ he said. ‘I wonder I did not seriously consider it before. I will leave the army. I’ll find something to do, some way to earn money, if our funds run low—’
‘Leave the army?’ she cried. ‘Rhys, no! It means too much to you.’
‘Not more than you mean to me,’ he countered.
‘But I do not mind coming with you wherever the army sends you,’ she insisted. ‘You are next going to Paris—is that not an exciting place to be? I would love to explore Paris with you.’
His expression turned serious. ‘We do not know what it will be like for us in Paris.’
‘We do not know what life would be like for us even if we returned to Yarford.’ She threw up her hands. ‘It will be a grand adventure!’
A grand adventure. Rhys and Helene had spent their childhood chasing grand adventures together, even if then the adventure only meant climbing a tree or learning how to pick a lock. Why not this adventure?
She was correct. Paris would be an exciting place to explore, and there was no one Rhys would rather explore Paris with than Helene. If the city was too dangerous, they’d not have to stay. He could make the decision to leave the army at any time. He’d been trying to sort out the rest of their lives, but there was no need to do that. He merely had to figure out the next step.
He gave her a direct look and still held her firmly in his grasp. ‘Very well. I stay in the army and we go to Paris together. On one condition, though.’
She looked wary. ‘What condition?’
‘You must marry me.’ He smiled. ‘We stay together for ever. As husband and wife.’
Her expression turned indignant. ‘You are telling me what I must do?’
This reaction startled him. ‘I only meant—’
A grin grew on her face. ‘It is a good thing marrying you is precisely what I want to do.’
Rhys laughed aloud as he took her in his arms again and swung her around.
His first friend—his closest friend—his best friend—would now be his wife.
And no one would ever again make them part.