‘Out of the question. My orders are to hold the army in readiness until war is declared. If we cross the frontier we become the aggressors.’

‘Something of a nicety,’ Uxbridge said dismissively. ‘It is hard to believe that war can be avoided at this stage.’

‘Nevertheless, we have our orders. In the meantime, I am concerned that Bonaparte may attempt to strike to the west of Brussels, and cut us off from the sea. The army must be ready to concentrate against an attack from that quarter. So, we must have adequate warning from your cavalry patrols, Uxbridge. They must stay alert.’

‘I have them in hand, your grace. You’ll be amongst the first to know if Boney goes for the coast, or takes the Mons road to Brussels.’

‘That is well.’ Arthur paused a moment. ‘Blücher’s chief of staff is demanding to know where I intend to concentrate my army in the event of an attack. I cannot tell him until I know where the main weight of the French army is positioned.’

‘Damned Prussians,’ Uxbridge muttered before he raised his spoon and took a sip. His eyes lit up. ‘I say, fine soup.’

Arthur suppressed a sigh. He had been trying to keep up the morale of his army, and that of his Belgian hosts, by insisting that the social life of Brussels continue as if there were no threat of war. The difficulty of that was that many of his officers were playing their part too well and appeared to have scant concern for the presence of a French army gathering on the other side of the border.

He forced himself to make inane conversation with Uxbridge, until the end of the first course. Then, as the dishes were cleared away, a staff officer entered the dining room and hurried to Arthur’s side and leaned towards his ear.

‘Your grace, there is a Prussian officer waiting in the hall. He says he has an urgent despatch from Marshal Blücher’s headquarters.’

Arthur nodded, and smiled apologetically to his guests as he rose from his seat at the head of the table. ‘Pray continue the meal, gentlemen. I shan’t be long.’

He followed the officer outside to where the mud-bespattered Prussian waited. Despite his anxious expression, the Prussian snapped to attention and bowed stiffly before speaking in heavily accented English.

‘I come from General Gneisenau, your grace. The chief of staff begs to inform you that the French attacked our position at Thuin at eight o’clock this morning.’

‘In what strength?’

‘Enough to drive in our outposts and then take the town, your grace.’

‘Are the French attacking anywhere else?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Very well.’ Arthur nodded his thanks. ‘Tell General Gneisenau that I am concentrating my army. I will send word of my position as soon as I can.’