Song Of The Nightingale (DeWinter's Song 1) Read online

Kassidy was not sorry that she had comforted the crying child against Henry’s command. She had called her brother an unfeeling monster, and he had slapped her.

  Kassidy drew in a deep breath and brushed the tears from her eyes. After tomorrow she would never again have to be under Henry’s harsh domination. Her parents had been in India for one long year, and at last they were coming home.

  Henry had grudgingly complied with their parents’ request that he bring his sisters to London to meet them. This was Kassidy’s first time in London, and she refused to allow her brother to spoil it for her. She forgot all about him when she saw a colorfully dressed vendor sing out his song as he hawked his wares.

  Hearing her name called, Kassidy glanced across the street to find her older sister, Abigail, waving to her. She motioned for Abigail to join her in the park.

  They were as different as sisters could be. Abigail had blond hair and beautiful features. Her manners were refined, and her actions were always correct. Kassidy had never liked her own blond hair, and she considered herself anything but a lady.

  The three years that divided the sisters had never seemed to matter; they were the best of friends. Kassidy attributed their closeness to Abigail’s loving nature. She saw her sister as sweet and patient, while she was hot-tempered, and had very little time for fools.

  “Are you hurt, dearest?” Abigail asked with a worried frown on her pretty face.

  “No, he couldn’t hurt me. I’m too happy today.”

  “Henry is the monster you called him, and I shall tell Mother and Father how he has mistreated you.” Abigail drew Kassidy’s head against her shoulder. “I’ll never allow him to strike you again. He’s only fortunate Aunt Mary didn’t witness the incident. She would have given him a proper dressing-down.”

  “Aunt Mary probably would have struck him back, and you know it.”

  Both girls giggled.

  “Look,” Kassidy said, already forgetting her brother’s harshness with her, “there’s a squirrel in that tree.”

  “We have to get back, Kassidy,” Abigail reminded her. “You know Aunt Mary is expecting guests for tea.”

  “What do I care about that? It’s just Henry’s old mother-in-law and her darling daughters, who are so full of their own worth, I can hardly bear to be in the same room with them.”

  “That may be so, but we wouldn’t want to disappoint Aunt Mary. She’s gone to a great deal of trouble on Henry’s behalf.”

  “Look.” Kassidy pointed above them. “The squirrel’s gone into that hole in the tree. Do you suppose it lives there all year ‘round?”

  Abigail, at sixteen, fancied herself above such childish matters. “I’m sure I don’t know. I have no interest in the habits of a rodent.”

  “I wonder what a squirrel would find to eat in London?”

  Abigail smiled at Kassidy’s great enthusiasm for life. “I’m sure Uncle George could tell you.”

  “Do you suppose Mother and Father will take us to Drury Lane?” Kassidy asked, reaching above her head and snapping off a small branch. “I want to see the flower girls selling lavender in the streets and buy lemonade from a street vendor.”

  “I was hoping to see the palace. Uncle George has already promised I can visit Parliament,” Abigail said, placing a dainty foot on the walkway. “I want so desperately to sail down the Thames River on a covered boat.”

  “I would like to go to Ascot and see the fine horses that race there,” Kassidy said thoughtfully. “Do you suppose Father and Mother will want to return to the country immediately?”

  “It doesn’t really matter what we do as long as we’re together,” Abigail admitted. “I have missed them so dreadfully.”

  “And just think, Abigail, Henry won’t ever be able to tell us what to do again. A year is a long time to live by his stern dictates.”

  Abigail nodded in agreement. “Henry cannot be a happy man. He never smiles and resents it when others do. I feel such pity for our nieces. Why do you suppose he’s the way he is?”

  “I don’t know. He doesn’t take after Mother or Father,” Kassidy said reflectively. Then she smiled impishly. “Perhaps the Gypsies left him.”

  “I suppose we should feel pity for him,” Abigail said seriously. “After all, Patricia doesn’t treat him very well.”

  “Sometimes you’re just too good, Abigail,” Kassidy said scornfully. “I don’t care about Henry or his wife. I want to have fun, and they’re no fun at all. Henry thinks London was built by the devil for the devil. He deserves to be miserable.”

  Kassidy and Abigail exchanged glances. “But we don’t!” they said in unison, then shared a laugh at their brother’s expense.

  “We had best get back to the house, Kassidy.” Abigail glanced up at the sun. “You’ll ruin your complexion if you stay out much longer.”

  “You go on. I want to stay for a while. I promise to return before tea.”

  Abigail looked doubtful for a moment, thinking it wouldn’t be proper to leave Kassidy alone in the park. But when she saw several nannies with their charges nearby, she relented. “Don’t soil your new gown. You’ll want to look your best when we meet Mother and Father.”

  Kassidy watched Abigail cross the street and disappear inside the house. She dropped down on a marble bench and intently studied a goldfish that darted in and out among the lily pads. Of course, she loved the country most of all, but in London every day was like a new adventure.

  She was so lost in thought that she didn’t see the two boys who came up behind her until one of them stepped between her and the pond.

  “What we got here, Elmer? Do you think this’s one of the fancy girls from across the street? Mayhaps she’s too fancy for the likes of us.”

  Kassidy blinked her eyes and stared at the bold boys who carried brooms and brushes on a harness across their shoulders. Their clothing was covered with soot and their faces were blackened. It was obvious that they were chimney sweeps.

  She turned her back on them. They had no right to be so familiar with her.

  “See how she’s too grand to speak to the likes of us,” one of them taunted.

  “I’ll not talk to you. Be gone,” she said airily.

  “Come on, Hank,” the second boy said. “Why don’t you leave her be. She ain’t done nothing to you.”

  The one called Hank smirked. “I wonder if she’d be so haughty if I landed her in that fish pond?”

  Kassidy quickly turned to face the boy, her green eyes sparkling and fearless. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  Hank moved forward while his companion hung back. He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the pond. “We’ll just see, miss—we’ll just see.”

  Kassidy kicked at him and connected with his knee. She then wrenched her arm free and at the same time drove her fist into the boy’s midsection. He howled in pain while his companion looked on gleefully.

  “You got what you deserves. Now leave her be. Pa will be expecting us.” Without another word, Elmer walked away.

  When Hank caught his breath, he lunged at Kassidy with anger boiling in his eyes. But poor Hank never reached her because he was jerked off his feet and dangled in the air by an officer in His Majesty’s army, who wore the insignia of a colonel.

  “Well there, young lad, it appears you have nothing better to do than torment helpless little girls. Surely it would be no great feat for you to push her in the pond.”

  The officer glanced at Kassidy. “And she’s such a small girl. You are at least twice her size.”

  Hank tried to wriggle free. “She’s anything but helpless. She’s a demon!”

  Raile looked at the little girl who faced her tormentor defiantly, her fists doubled, her eyes flashing like green fire. “I see what you mean.” Raile released the boy. “If you want to fight, join the army and fight the French.”

  The boy looked shamefaced. “I’m sorry, sir.” He looked quickly at Kassidy. “And I’m sorry to you, too, miss.” He lost no time in picking up his brooms and scamper
ing away.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  Kassidy looked up at her rescuer. He was the handsomest man she had ever seen. If only Abigail had remained a little longer, she would have been there to meet him. He would surely have been smitten by her beauty and fallen in love.

  “I’m not hurt a bit, thank you, sir.”

  He smiled as he knelt before her. “Perhaps you aren’t hurt, but you soiled your pretty white gown.”

  She looked at the dark smudges on the sleeve and shook her head in dismay. “Aunt Mary bought this gown and I wasn’t supposed to get it dirty. I was to wear it again tomorrow to meet my mother and father.”

  He removed a handkerchief from his pocket, dipped it in the fishpond, and dabbed at her sleeve. “Perhaps I can help.” He gently rubbed the smudge while Kassidy watched hopefully.

  She was overcome with relief when the stain disappeared. She wanted to throw her arms around her savior, but of course she dared not. Surely he was the most compassionate man she had ever met.

  “There,” Raile DeWinter said, standing to his full height. “If you don’t tell her, Aunt Mary will never know about your trouble.”

  He handed her his handkerchief. “There is a black smudge on your forehead, but I’ll let you attend to that.”

  She rubbed at the spot until he nodded in approval. When she would have given him back his handkerchief, he closed his hand around hers. “Keep it as a token.” He laughed. “And who knows when you may need it again.”

  “Thank you.” She watched the wind ripple through his dark hair. “I have to go now,” she said, backing toward the walkway. “But I won’t forget your kindness.”

  “Yes, hurry along.”

  She took several steps and turned back to him. “Will I ever see you again?”

  His eyes suddenly darkened with sadness. “I’m afraid not. You see, I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  “Will you be fighting against the French?”

  “Yes.”

  “I will think of you and know that I am safe because you stand between Napoleon and me,” she said with feeling.

  He smiled at her exaggeration. This green-eyed minx was a real charmer. “I will do my best to keep you safe.”

  “I will think of you as my champion,” she said sincerely.

  He bowed formally to her, trying to keep a serious expression on his face. “I am honored to be your champion. I assure you I shall not shirk in my duty toward you. Now I must bid you good day.”

  Kassidy made her way quickly across the street. When she turned back, he was gone.

  Glancing down at the handkerchief, she saw it had an initial embroidered in black. She traced the bold outline of the letter R, wishing she had asked him his name.

  Kassidy tucked her treasure into her pocket and raced up the steps.

  Wait until she told Abigail about the handsome officer who had rescued her from a spill in the pond. Wouldn’t she be jealous?

  Kassidy sat beside her Aunt Mary at dinner, as far away from Henry as was possible. In defiance of Henry’s wishes, Aunt Mary had insisted that Kassidy dine with the adults rather than the children.

  Kassidy dipped her spoon in the lemon ice and raised it to her mouth, while returning her Uncle George’s smile. She adored him. Although her uncle wasn’t titled, he sat in the House Of Commons and was a most important and distinguished presence in Parliament, she had been told. But to her he was just Uncle George, and she had always found him to be warm and humorous.

  She watched the affectionate glance her uncle and aunt exchanged. Aunt Mary was her mother’s sister. She had always insisted that Kassidy was like her, but Kassidy doubted she would ever grow into the beauty her aunt was. Both of them did have blond hair, though, and they always had an understanding between them.

  Dipping once more into her lemon ice, Kassidy stole a glance at her brother, Henry, and his wife, Patricia. Henry was in his thirties, tall and lean, and although he resembled their father, he was as disagreeable as their father was amiable.

  “I don’t approve of children eating with the grown-ups,” Henry said pompously, his eyes hard when he looked at Kassidy. “It spoils them and makes them unmanageable.”

  Patricia, with her pale skin and darting gray eyes, agreed with her husband by vigorously nodding her head.

  “Rubbish,” Aunt Mary said, smiling down at her favorite niece. “Kassidy is on the threshold of becoming a lovely young lady. While she’s in my house, she will not sup with the children and be sent to bed at sundown.”

  Kassidy met Abigail’s eyes, and her sister smiled, enjoying Henry’s discomfort. Their brother would never dare to oppose Aunt Mary.

  The butler caught Kassidy’s attention when he entered the room and approached her uncle, handing him a letter. “I’m sorry, sir, but this was marked urgent.”

  George read the note. His eyes widened, and he glanced at his wife. “Let’s retire to the study,” he said.

  Everyone rose immediately and began to leave the room. George grasped his wife’s hand, detaining her. “Your aunt and I will join you in a moment.”

  Kassidy and Abigail sat down on the wide leather sofa, clutching each other’s hands. “I’ll bet Mother and Father were delayed,” Abigail said worriedly.

  “Most probably,” Henry grumbled. “I hope their delay isn’t a lengthy one. I tire of London.”

  When their aunt and uncle entered the study a short time later, it was apparent Aunt Mary had been crying.

  “Is the letter from Father and Mother, Uncle George?” Kassidy asked anxiously. “Will they be arriving later than we expected?”

  His eyes softened when he looked at her. “I’m afraid they won’t be arriving at all,” he said sadly. “You see, Kassidy, their ship went down at sea. It falls to me to tell you that there were no survivors.”

  Kassidy shook her head in disbelief. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she was sure she could not bear the grief.

  “No!” she cried, and Abigail reached out to comfort her. “It cannot be—not Father and Mother!”

  Aunt Mary came to the two girls, sliding her arms around them. “Oh, my dearest ones, what can we say?”

  Kassidy clutched Abigail to her, and they sobbed brokenheartedly.

  The day that had started out so hopeful had turned to tragedy. To Kassidy it seemed life was over. She would never see her beloved mother and father again. A feeling of unreality took hold of her.

  Abigail was crying uncontrollably. In that moment, Kassidy pushed her grief aside and became strong for Abigail. “There, there, dearest, we have each other, and we will get through this,” Kassidy assured her. “Cling to me and I’ll lend you my strength.”

  Henry came to his feet and said in a voice that broke: “Well, it seems I am head of the family now. I’ll try and carry on as Father would have expected.”

  Abigail and Kassidy exchanged hopeless glances. Knowing they were now under the guidance of a cold, unloving man made their grief tenfold.

  It was raining the day the coach left London. Kassidy was seated beside Abigail, clutching her hand. Henry and Patricia were across from them, while the children followed in the second coach with their nurse.

  Henry had indeed assumed his place as head of the family. He had inherited his father’s title of viscount and was taking his responsibilities seriously.

  Aunt Mary had beseeched him to allow Kassidy and Abigail to remain with her, but he had stubbornly refused, insisting that girls of their age needed a firm hand and someone to watch their every move.

  Abigail leaned her head on Kassidy’s shoulder and whispered, “I don’t know how I can bear the pain.”

  “You will always have me, Abigail. I will never leave you.”

  “I don’t think I would make it without you, Kassidy. I have come to depend on your courage.”

  Kassidy closed her eyes, feeling as if she had left childhood behind. Abigail was fragile, so she would have to be strong for them both.

  3

  Belgium—June
17, 1815

  Waterloo

  Night fell early as ominous storm clouds shrouded the sun. Flashes of light from the electrical storm cut through the inky blackness, illuminating the countryside, while thunder reverberated across the sky like the sound of cannon fire.

  Bone-weary and battle-fatigued British regiments were huddled beneath makeshift tents, hoping to find protection against the rain that would surely come. In the distance the sound of sporadic gunfire cut through the night as snipers from both sides exchanged volleys.

  A jagged streak of lightning danced tumultuously across the sky, and a strange hush intruded upon the land. The first drops of rain fell heavily earthward, soaking into the fertile farmland.

  Col. Raile DeWinter pulled his greatcoat about him and headed toward the bivouac fires. He had ridden for two days to join his troops, and had been in two skirmishes along the way.

  As he walked along, his silver spurs jingled, because had been too exhausted to remove them.

  He nodded to a group of soldiers who scurried to their feet to salute.

  “At ease, men. Save your strength for the battle tomorrow,” Raile instructed them.

  He paused at the entrance of his tent to gaze across the encampment and beyond to the woods. The outriders had reported that Napoleon and his forces were in hot pursuit of Wellington. In the morning they would undoubtedly clash with the enemy. Many of the soldiers camped there tonight would be dead by this time tomorrow.

  Victory would belong to the strongest, and Raile, like most of the British, would place his faith in Wellington.

  “We’ll give them frogs hell tomorrow, Colonel!” one of the soldiers, who was intent on polishing the brass buttons on his tattered uniform, cried out with enthusiasm.

  Raile studied the man carefully. He was young, hardly old enough to shave. His clothes were wet, and he must be cold and miserable, but there was an eagerness reflected in his eyes that Raile envied.

  “That we will, Private. If we didn’t believe that, we wouldn’t be here.”

  The 34th Regiment of the Light Dragoons had been under Raile’s command since the Portuguese Campaign, and he had every reason to be satisfied by the performance of his men, for they had covered themselves with honors. Even though their uniforms were tattered and muddy and their faces were etched with fatigue, something in their eyes told Raile they would give their all in the battle ahead.