A despatch had been brought in by one of his aides-de-camp from Baron Constant at Braine-le-Comte. It was dated as late as 10.30p.m., and reported that Charleroi had fallen not two hours after Ziethen's solitary message had been sent off that morning. The French had advanced twenty miles into Belgian territory. The Prussians had been attacked at Sombreffe by Grouchy, with Vandamme's Corps in support, and had fallen back on Fleurus; Ney had pushed forward on the left to Frasnes, south of Quatre-Bras, with an advance guard of cavalry, but had encountered there Prince Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar, who, taking the law courageously into his own hands, had moved forward from Genappe with one Nassau battalion and a battery of horse artillery. A skirmish had taken place, but Ney had apparently had insufficient infantry to risk an engagement. He had made some demonstrations, but the handful of troops opposed to him had held their ground, and at seven o'clock he had bivouacked for the aight. Prince Bernhard had reported the affair to General Perponcher, who, wisely ignoring the Duke's positive orders to assemble his division at Nivelles, had directed it instead on the hamlet and crossroads of Quatre-Bras.
The Duke listened to these tidings with an unmoved countenance. He saw that everyone in the room was watching him, and said in a loud voice: "Very well! I have no fresh orders to give. I advise your Royal highness to go back to your quarters and to bed."
The Prince, whose air of suppressed excitement had escaped no one, withdrew; the Duke resumed his conversation. But the impression created by the prince's reappearance was not to be banished; except among those who had no relatives engaged in the operations, conversation had become subdued, and faces that had worn smiles an hour earlier now looked a little haggard in the glare of the candlelight. No one was surprised when the Duke went up to his host. saying cheerfully: "I think it's time for me to go to bed likewise." In the distance could be heard the ominous sound of bugles calling to arms; dancing seemed out of place, the Duke's departure was for most of those present a welcome sign of the party's breaking up .Wives exchanged nods with their husbands; mothers tried to catch heedless daughters' eyes; Georgiana Lennox stole away to help her brother March pack up.
The Duke said under his breath: "Have you a got map in the house, Richmond?"
Richmond nodded, and led him to his study. The Duke shut the door and said abruptly: "Napoleon has humbugged me, by God! He has gained twenty-four hours' march on me."
He walked over to the desk, and bent over the map Richmond had spread out on it, and studied it for moment or two in silence.
Richmond stood watching him, startled by what he had said and wondering a little that no anxiety shoul be apparent in his face. "What do you intend doing?" he asked presently.
"I've ordered the Army to concentrate on Quatre Bras," replied his lordship. "But we shan't stop him there, and if so, I must fight him here." As he spoke he drew his thumbnail across the map below the village of Waterloo, and straightened himself. "I'll be off home and get some sleep."
In the ballroom a few determined couples were stilt dancing, but with the departure of the officers the zest had gone from the most carefree young female. Ladies were collecting their wraps, carriages were being called for, and a stream of guests were filing past the Duchess of Richmond, returning thanks and taking leave.
Judith, who had gone upstairs to fetch her cloak, was startled, on her way down again, to encounter Barbara, her train caught over her arm, and in her face an expression of the most painful anxiety. She put out her hand impulsively, grasping Judith's wrist, and said in a strangled voice: "Charles! Where is he?"