Fortunately, the mare was as out of breath as her mistress. Juana managed to get back into the saddle before she could career off again, and to possess herself of the curb-rein. The mare still seemed very much excited, but with the curb held firmly between her fingers Juana felt herself safe. She straightened her habit, tucked away the strands of hair which had been blown from under her hat, and, hearing the sound of horses coming up behind her, looked round. To her dismay, she saw some five or six men, whom she took to be French Dragoons, bearing down upon her. She was so exhausted that she, made no attempt, to escape, but told Vitty in a despairing way that if she was to be taken prisoner she might as well surrender at once.

However, the first of the horsemen to reach her was her own groom. With remarkable presence of mind, he had seized the second of the horses Harry had bought at Newmarket as soon as he saw the Brass Mare bolting with his mistress, and had made off after her as fast as he could, and without so much as listening to West’s commands to him on no account to go off with Master’s charger.

‘Oh, thank heaven it is you, Jenkins!’ said Juana. ‘I was afraid those men were French Dragoons!’

‘Not they, mum. Deserters, that’s what they are!’ exclaimed Jenkins scornfully. ‘Fair scared out of their wits, the way you’d think they’d be ashamed for anyone to see them! Still, two of ’em’s Germans, and one’s a Commissary.’

‘Oh, a Commissary!’ said Juana, with a great deal of contempt. ‘If that is all-!’ But it was not quite all. Upon the horsemen’s drawing abreast of her, she discovered that one of them was an English Hussar officer. She was very much shocked to see him escaping in such a way, but as this was no time for indulging in quite useless demonstrations of disdain, she ranged along beside him, asking in her broken English if there were any danger.

‘Danger!’ he exclaimed. ‘When I left Brussels, the French were in pursuit down the hill!’ ‘Oh, sir, what shall I do?’ Juana cried, appalled by this news.

‘Come on to Antwerp with me! I’ll take care of you.’

She was too much shocked to reflect that an officer who deserted his regiment in a moment of danger would hardly be likely to prove a very trustworthy escort. He did not show any disposition to pull up; he had not, in fact, drawn rein at all; so, as the Brass Mare seemed to have plenty of life left in her, Juana galloped on beside her new-found acquaintance. She naturally wanted to know all he could tell her about the battle, but although he seemed willing enough to talk it was evident that he had left the field too early in the day to be able to tell her much. He said that the French were opposed to them in great numbers, and with an overwhelming force of cavalry. The action had begun at eleven o’clock, with such a cannonade as he had never in his life experienced. One of the semi-fortified country houses of the district, called the Chateau de Hougoumont, which was being held by a detachment of Coldstream Guards, under Colonel MacDonnell, in advance of the extreme right of the line, had immediately been assailed by Reille’s division; it must by this time, the Hussar thought, have fallen into the enemy’s hands, for it had been set on fire by bursting shells before he had left the field, and it must have been impossible for a single brigade of Guards to have held it in the teeth of the whole of Reille’s division. The rest of his narrative was too disjointed to be readily understood. He spoke in a hurried way of huge columns of Frenchmen advancing down the hill like a mighty tide upon the attenuated British line on the reverse slope; he said that a whole brigade of Belgians had broken before them, and had fled to’ the shelter of the forest; that there was no sign of any Prussian troops coming up in support; that there could be no standing up against the weight of men and of artillery opposed to them. He knew nothing of Lambert’s brigade, nor could he tell where the 95th Rifles were placed. He had the impression that he had left all in the most dreadful confusion. She gave a moan of dismay, which reached the ears of the other Englishman in the party, the Commissary, a narrow-faced man, who said roughly: ‘You deserve no pity! You may well be fatigued, carrying that dog! Throw it down!’

Juana was not accustomed to being addressed in such a tone by Commissaries, and without the smallest hesitation she rounded on the man, demanding to know how he dared to speak to her with such rudeness? ‘Let me tell you that I am not such a coward as to run away, leaving my poor little dog to be lost or killed! If I did that I should indeed deserve no pity! And also I must tell you that to receive the pity of such a person as you would make me sick! It is plain to me that you are not one of the old army, but, on the contrary, nothing but a Johnny Raw, and if the Duke has many such persons with him today, I am extremely sorry for him, yes, and for all the veterans who will certainly be betrayed by them!’ The Commissary looked very much taken aback by this outburst, and muttered that he had meant no harm, only it was folly to think of saving a lap-dog when they would very likely all of them be killed before nightfall.

‘Oh, do not disturb yourself!’ said Juana swiftly. “There are plenty of real soldiers with the Duke, after all!’

At this, the Commissary flushed darkly, and fell a little behind. Juana, her spirits momentarily restored by this brush, remarked confidentially to the Hussar that she disliked all Commissaries, and thought this one a particularly poor specimen. ‘We used to suffer from them a great deal in Spain,” she said. ‘They never brought up the supplies when they should, and once they even took them by the wrong road, so that we were obliged to eat acorns.’ The Hussar looked round at her wonderingly. ‘Were you with the army in Spain, then?’ ‘Oh yes! I am Spanish, you know, though married to an Englishman. I made the war with the Light division, from Badajos to Toulouse.’

‘A little delicate creature like you!’ he said. ‘Is it possible?’

‘I am not at all delicate, and as for being small, there is nothing in that. My husband is not large, not at all, and everyone says he is the toughest man in the whole division, besides being one of the biggest dare-devils!’ The thought of Harry, of what might even now be happening to him, suddenly overcame her. She burst into tears, exclaiming: ‘Oh, what shall I do? Perhaps he is dead, or wounded, and I not there!’

‘Pray do not distress yourself, ma’am! Pray do not! Very likely he will have escaped, and you will see him presently.’

This suggestion had the effect of stopping Juana’s tears at once. She said indignantly: ‘Escaped! That he will never do, I assure you! My husband is Major of Brigade, and if you were at all acquainted with him, you would know that while a man of ours is not accounted for my husband will not be found out of the saddle!”

He coloured, and turned away his head. After a moment’s pause, he said awkwardly: ‘I daresay you despise me for having left the field.’

She replied candidly: ‘Well, it certainly seems very odd to me.’

‘I am aware of how my conduct must appear to you. But there are circumstances-there are those who are dependent on me-but it does not signify talking, after all! There is Antwerp ahead of us.’

In a few more minutes they had entered the town. The Hussar very kindly offered to find a room for Juana in one of the hotels. She gladly accepted his help, but soon found that there was no accommodation to be had anywhere, the town being already full to overflowing with refugees from Brussels. There was nothing for it but to repair to the Hôtel de Ville, and to try to get a billet. The Hussar went in on this errand, leaving Juana outside with Jenkins and the horses. She was splashed from head to foot with mud; her habit was soaked; and she felt pretty certain from the curious glances cast at her by the many passers-by that she must look a perfect figure of fun. She was past caring for that; all her thoughts were fixed on Harry, and because she was quite worn-out and suffering the most torturing anxiety large tears chased one another down her cheeks.

Suddenly an officer came out of the Hotel de Ville, and stepped up to her where she sat drooping on the Brass Mare’s back. ‘Mrs Smith?’

She looked down at him. ‘Yes, I am Mrs Smith,’ she said brushing her hand across her eyes.

‘My name is Peters. You don’t know me, but I’m on garrison-duty here. Your servant told me your name. You are in such a terrible plight, and there’s no getting you in to any of the hotels: will you let me take you to Colonel Craufurd, the Commandant? His wife and daughters are the kindest people, and would do anything for you, I know!’

It seemed likely that if she refused this offer she would be obliged to bivouac in the street, so Juana thanked Mr Peters, and said she would go with him if she might first take leave of her helpful Hussar-acquaintance. This was soon done, and Mr Peters, bringing up his own horse, led her through several crowded streets to a respectable house not far from the citadel. They were admitted at once by an astonished butler, and received in the salon by a very tall woman, who no sooner set eyes on her muddied, tear-stained visitor than she exclaimed: ‘Oh, you poor little thing!’ and came quickly forward to take Juana’s hand. ‘Mrs. Smith’s husband is Brigade-Major to Sir John Lambert, ma’am,’ explained Mr Peters. ‘She has ridden all the way from the battlefield, as I understand. I took the liberty of bringing her to you, for there is nowhere-’

‘I should think so indeed!’ interrupted Mrs Craufurd. ‘Never mind talking! Ring the bell, man! My poor child, we must get you out of those wet clothes at once, or you will catch your death of cold!’

‘Oh, how kind you are!’ Juana stammered. ‘I am so ashamed to come into your house in such a state! Please forgive! I did not know what else to do.’

‘Why, you’re a foreigner!’ said Mrs Craufurd. ‘As for forgiveness-what nonsense, child! But what is all this talk about a husband? You are a baby!’

‘Oh no, no! I am seventeen years old, and I have been married for three years already! Also I am Spanish.’

‘Spanish or English, married or single, into a hot bath you go!’ said her hostess briskly. ‘Yes, I rang, Johnson. Be so good as to take hot water up to my bedchamber. Don’t stand staring, man! Bustle about!’

Within half an hour, Juana, stripped of her mud-plastered garments, washed, and enveloped in one of Mrs Craufurd’s dresses, which was quite three sizes too large for her, was seated before the fire in the salon, partaking of a comforting bowl of broth, and telling her story in her pretty, hesitant English to an audience composed of Mrs Craufurd and her two tall daughters. They could hardly believe that such a scrap of a girl could have gone through such a series of adventures; the Misses Craufurd plied her with questions, until their mother intervened, saying that it was not fair to plague their guest so.

No news came from the front that evening, and at about ten o’clock, Mrs Craufurd persuaded Juana to go to bed. She was so tired that although she had been sure she would not be able to sleep, she dropped off within ten minutes of her head’s being laid on the pillow.

7

While the family was seated at breakfast next morning, Mr Peters called to inform Juana that quantities of baggage were arriving in Antwerp, and that he would be very happy to look for hers if she would give him a description of it. An hour later, he came back, bringing West, and Matty, the spare horses, and all the baggage except Juana’s mattress, and the precious new dressing-case, which, in the sudden uproar, had been left behind at the village where the Brass Mare had bolted.

As the morning wore on, without any certain news being received from the front, Juana’s anxiety increased so much that she was unable to sit still, but walked about the room looking so distraught that Mrs Craufurd was half-inclined to persuade her to drink a few drops of laudanum to calm her nerves.

But in the afternoon, Colonel Craufurd came in with tidings that a great battle had been fought and won before the village of Waterloo. The French’ army was said to be utterly put to rout, and Napoleon himself flying towards Paris. There was no news of Harry, and after waiting all day for a message, Juana, to the dismay of her hostess, ordered West to have the Brass Mare brought round to the house at daybreak next morning. ‘But, my dear, you cannot venture alone!’ protested Mrs Craufurd. ‘At such an hour, too!” ‘I must rejoin my husband,’ Juana said resolutely. ‘I am accustomed to marching at dawn. Please do not try to dissuade me!’