Upon his return to the Duke, who had moved towards the centre of the position, he passed by the 1st Guards, and caught a glimpse of Lord Harry Alastair, looking rather tired, but apparently in good spirits. He called a greeting to him, and Lord Harry came up, and stood for a moment with his hand on the Colonel's saddlebow. "Enjoying yourself Harry?" asked Audley.
"Lord, yes! You know we were engaged at Quatre-Bras, don't you? By Jove, there was never anything like it, was there? If only poor Hay - but never mind that!" he added hastily, blinking his sandy lashes. "It's just that he was rather a friend of mine. I say, though, what do you think? I'm damned if William Lennox didn't present himself for duty this morning! Nothing of him to be seen for bandages, and of course General Maitland sent him packing. He's just gone off, he and his father. Devilish sportsmanlike of him to come, I thought!" He detained the Colonel a moment longer, saying: "Have you seen anything of George, sir? They say the Life Guards were engaged at Genappe yesterday."
"Yes, I saw George in the thick of it, but he came out with nothing but a scratch or two!"
"Oh, good! Give him my love, if you should happen to run into him at any time, and tell him I'm in famous shape. Goodbye! the best of luck, Charles!"
"Thanks: the same to you!" said the Colonel, and waved and rode on.
By ten o'clock, the Duke had completed his inspection, but the French Army was still deploying on the opposite heights, and guns, their wheels up to the naves in mud, were being dragged into position along the ridge. A little before eleven o'clock, a Prussian galopin arrived with a despatch for General Muffling, who had only a few minutes before rejoined the Duke, after making an examination of the ground beyond Papelotte, on the left wing. He had been driven back by a French patrol coming up from the village of Plancenoit, to the south, but not before he had satisfied himself that a Prussian advance by the plateau of St Lambert would not only be possible but extremely beneficial. He wrote down his views, read them to the Duke, who said, in his decided way: "I quite agree!" and was in the act of sending an aide-de-camp to Wavre, with the despatch, when the Prussian galopin found him.
The despatch he had brought was from Marshal Blucher, and was dated 9.30a.m. from Wavre. "Your Excellency will assure the Duke of Wellington from me," wrote the Marshal Prince, "that, ill as I am, I shall place myself at the head of my troops, and attack the right of the French, in case they undertake anything against him."
There was a postscript subjoined to this missive by another and more cautious hand. General Count von Gneisenau, still convinced that his English ally's early service in India had made him a master in the art of duplicity, entreated the Baron "to ascertain most particularly whether the Duke of Wellington has really adopted the decided resolution of fighting in his present position: or whether he only intends some demonstration, which might become very dangerous to our Army."
To Muffling, who profoundly respected the openness of the Duke's character, and knew how serious the coming engagement was likely to be, this postscript was exasperating. He neither mentioned it to the Duke nor made enquiries of him which he knew to be superfluous. The despatch which he had already written must convince Gneisenau of the seriousness of his lordship's intentions. He gave it to his aide-de-camp, telling him to be sure to let General Billow read it, if, on his way to Wavre, he should encounter him. He could do nothing more to hasten the march of the Prussian 4th Corps, and having seen the aide-de-camp off, had little else to do but wait, in steadily growing impatience, for news of his compatriots' approach.
The deploying movements of the French had been completed by half past ten. The music and the trumpet calls ceased, and the columns stood in a silence that seemed the more absolute from its marked contrast to the medley of martial noises that had been resounding on all sides for the past hour. As the village clocks in the distance struck eleven, the Duke took up position with all his staff, near Hougoumont, and looked through his glass at the French lines. A very dark, wiry young officer, with a thin, energetic face in which a pair of deep-set eyes laughed upon the world, came riding up to the Duke, and saluted smartly. The Duke called out: "Hallo, Smith! Where are you from?"
"From General Lambert's brigade, my lord, and they from America!" responded Brigade-Major Harry Smith, with the flash of an impudent grin.
"What have you got?"
"The 4th, the 27th, and the 40th. The 81st remain in Brussels."
"Ah, I know! But the others: are they in good order?"
"Excellent, my lord, and very strong," declared the Major.
"That's all right," said his lordship, "for I shall soon want every man."
"I don't think they will attack today," remarked one of his staff, frowning across the valley.
"Nonsense!" said his lordship, with a snap. "The columns of attack are already forming, and I think I have seen where the weight of the attack will fall. I shall be attacked before an hour. Do you know anything of my position, Smith?"
"Nothing, my lord, beyond what I see - the general line, and the right and left."
"Go back and half Lambert's brigade at the junction of the two great roads from Charleroi and Nivelles. I'll tell you what I want of you fellows."
He rode a little way with Smith, apprising him of his intentions. The Major, who was one of his lordship's promising young favourites, listened, saluted, and rode off at a canter to the rear. He cut across the slope behind Alten's division, leapt a hedge, and came down on to the chaussee almost on top of Colonel Audley, who, having been sent on an errand to Mont St Jean, was riding back to the front.
"God damn your - Harry Smith, by all that's wonderful! I might have known it! When did you arrive? Where's your brigade?"
"At Waterloo. We were held up by the wagons and baggage upset all over the road from Brussels, and when we got to Waterloo we met Scovell, who had been sent by the Duke to see if the rear was clear - which, by God, it was not! He requested us to sweep up the litter before moving on! What's the news with you, old fellow?"
"Oh, famous! How's Juana? You haven't brought her out with you, I suppose?"
"Haven't brought her out with me?" exclaimed the Major. "She was sitting down to dinner with Lambert at some village just the other side of the Forest last night!"
"Good God, you don't mean to tell me she's with the brigade now?"
"No, I've sent her back to Ghent with her groom," replied the Major coolly. "We're in for a hottish day, from the looks of it. I understand my brigade will be wanted to relieve old Picton. Cut up at your little affair at Quatre-Bras, was he?"
"Devilishly. Someone said he himself had been wounded, but he's here today, so I suppose he wasn't. I must be off."
"By Jove, and so must I! We shall meet again - here or in hell! Adios! Bienes de fortuna!"
He cantered off; the Colonel set his horse at the bank on the right of the chaussee, scrambled up, and rode past Lord Edward Somerset's lounging squadrons up the slope to the front line.
By the time he had found the Duke it was just past eleven o'clock. He joined a group of persons gathered about his lordship, and sat with a loose rein, looking along the ridge opposite.
"Heard about Grant?" asked Canning, who was standing next to him.