The Officer and the Proper Lady by Louise Allen Page B

few moments of suspense. ‘I would not like to deprive any of us of a day’s harmless entertainment, and this could be a spectacle of historic significance.’
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    â€˜Wake up, Phillip.’ Julia shook her brother’s shoulder as he lay curled up on the carriage seat beside her. ‘Look, we are almost there.’
    Phillip wriggled upright, scrubbing at his eyes. ‘Ooh! Is that for us?’ That was the decoration of leafy branches that covered every upright pole or surface and drooped from ropesand frame works. Ahead was a great triumphal arch, topped with what looked like laurel wreaths. Even Mrs Tresilian leaned out of the open carriage to see.
    â€˜I think it is to honour the duke and Marshal Blücher,’ Julia explained.
    â€˜And the Prince of Orange,’ the baron added, smiling at the small boy. Rotund, jovial and expressing himself de lighted to have two ‘lovely ladies’ in his carriage, Baron vander Helvig had made the journey pass with an in exhaustible flow of good-natured gossip, enquiries about London and stories about life in the Low Countries under Napoleon.
    â€˜What time will it begin?’ Mrs Tresilian asked as the baron checked his pocket watch.
    â€˜Not until noon at least, ma’am, and it is half past eleven now. I have a place reserved in the meadow which is just a little way beyond the town.’ The carriage turned down from the main street amidst crowds on foot, horse back and in carriages, all heading in the same direction into the country-side.
    Then Mrs Tresilian gasped, and Julia craned round to look. Ahead was nothing but a sea of colour and a milling mass of horses and riders covering the wide meadows that stretched along the River Dender, up to the sharp slope of the woods.
    â€˜There must be thou sands of them,’ Julia murmured in awe as the coachman manoeuvred the barouche into position.
    â€˜Six or seven thousand,’ he agreed. ‘Forty six squadrons, so Major Carlow tells me. There, you see: the heavy dragoons, then the light dragoons.’
    Julia craned her neck: Hal would be there, impossible to distinguish in the mass of horsemen.
    â€˜And the batteries-howitzers as well,’ the baron explained. ‘And I believe they have the Rocket Brigade in there somewhere.’
    â€˜It is like a wall of red brick,’ Mrs Tresilian murmured,gazing at the heavy dragoons, but Julia was searching the lines of blue, distracted by the shifting pattern of broad lapels in at least four colours. And then she saw the big horse, ghostly grey amongst the darker bays, blacks and chest nuts. There were other greys, but none as big and pale as that one. She had found Hal. Julia sat back against the squabs, her eyes fixed on the distant figure, happy.
    The sun shone and the troops manoeuvred, wheeled, reformed. The inspecting dignitaries came down over a temporary bridge and then passed up and down the ranks; the picnic was unpacked and consumed; and Julia nearly spilled her lemonade down her new walking dress when the twenty-one gun salute was fired.
    Phillip was struck almost dumb with excitement, his eyes wide, fixed on the shifting pattern of horsemen, the displays of artillery drill, the glitter of weapons and orders.
    Then the duke and his guests left, heading—so the baron informed them—for a grand dinner at Lord Uxbridge’s headquarters. Julia took a deep breath, half dazzled by the spectacle, half disappointed that it had all been at a distance.
    â€˜Ah, they are beginning to break up,’ the baron said. ‘Many of them have a distance to go back to their quarters. If we stay here, young Philip will see some of them closer. You would like that? Eh?’
    Julia kept a firm hand on her brother’s shoulder as they stood by the carriage watching the troops clatter past in small groups. And then Phillip gave an excited squeak and Julia turned. A big grey horse was approaching from behind