* * *
The time passed. Alyssa continued to mark off the days on her calendar.
The war on the Peninsula raged on. The fighting lulled, but the troop movement did not. And through it all, there were minor skirmishes, raids and reconnoitering, baggage to guard, and pickets to man.
She learned the language of war from Griffin’s letters and the news he relayed.
She learned the nature of war by surviving as he survived each day.
The siege of Cuidad Rodrigo began in mid-June and ended in victory with surrender at six p.m. on the evening of July tenth. A few days later, Griffin’s regiment was on the march once more to begin the siege of Almeida in Portugal. When Almeida fell on the twenty-eighth of August, the Eleventh Blues began the march toward Bussaco.
Alyssa nearly worried herself sick at the news of a major engagement at Bussaco, but Griffin’s name didn’t appear on the casualty lists, and a letter from him soon confirmed that once again, his regiment was on the move.
They moved from Bussaco toward Badajoz.
Alyssa sent letters and small gifts of her soaps and lotions, stationery and ink, sewing kits, packets of buttons and playing cards for him to share with Eastman and the young Lieutenant Hughes—anything she thought might ease the hardships and the boredom of his life as a soldier. And she never made him wait for word of home. Alyssa responded without fail to Griffin’s missives with letters of her own, often two and three letters a day.
Autumn gave way to winter.
Alyssa spent half of the Christmas season with her family and half with Griffin’s. She knitted scarves and socks and mittens for him and Eastman and Lieutenant Hughes and sent new uniforms as Christmas gifts for Griffin and Eastman.
She returned to the manor after the new year and waited until winter eventually gave way to spring.
The early crocuses, tulips, and daffodils emerged from their winter beds at about the same time the members of the ton began leaving their winter homes, heading south toward London and the opening of parliament and the season.
Life at Abernathy Manor went on, the cycle seemingly unchanged. The gardens bloomed. The trees and shrubs grew taller. The swans and the peafowl bore young, trailing through the garden paths and across the surface of the pond with their hatchlings following close behind.
The dairy cows birthed calves, and the sheep bore lambs. The fields left fallow were planted in flax and hops, and Alyssa, Lady Abernathy, celebrated her first wedding anniversary alone.
Chapter Twenty-seven
“We’ve returned to the border village of Fuentes de Oñoro eight miles from the French garrison at Almeida and are preparing for battle. Our goal is to prevent the Prince of Essling from resupplying his forces there. Today is the first anniversary of my wedding to Alyssa. I hope I am alive to celebrate it when this is over.”
—Griffin, Lord Abernathy, journal entry, 02 May 1811