She made him some strong green tea and did not ask any questions

From Waterloo A Near Run Thing by David Howarth. Finished this two or three months ago and haven't gotten around to citing the interesting passages. A very enjoyable read and a clean account of one of the more pivotal battles of the modern era.

Page 31.

Of all the staff, it was probably Sir William De Lancey who knew most about the events that had led to the Duke’s decision. As Quartermaster-General, it had been his responsibility, two days before, to set the army on the move, dispatching his orderlies to ride through the night from Brussels with written orders. And although the movement had seemed chaotic to the soldiers who marched through the lanes, it had been successful: the whole army was now assembled on the ground the Duke had chosen for it.

De Lancey was a remarkable man, even in that remarkable company: young, brilliant, handsome and likeable. He was not one of the aristocrats who filled so many of the senior posts in the army. He was American. He was born in New York, where his Huguenot forebears had been distinguished citizens for over a hundred years, and he had been knighted when he was just over thirty for his service under Wellington in Spain. The Duke had insisted, in the face of strong opposition, on having De Lancey with him in Belgium, and had put him in his position of awesome responsibility although he was still only thirty-four.

The Duke’s insistence would have flattered any man, but it cannot have been entirely welcome, for De Lancey was happily in love. The order to come at once to Belgium had reached him early in April at Dunglass on the coast of Scotland east of Edin­ burgh, where less than a week before he had married a Scottish girl named Magdalene Hall. The order allowed him no delay: he had had to leave his bride and post to London. But with the resourcefulness of love, she had contrived to follow him, and she had reached Brussels on 8 June. So there, they had spent a second week of their interrupted marriage. Each of its days had seemed to her like a gay and perfect dream, tinged by enough anxiety for the future to make the present intensely valuable. Entranced by each other’s company, they had not attended any of the balls and dinner parties that Brussels offered every night: time had seemed too precious.

The idyll had ended on the evening of the 15th, when she fastened all his medals and crosses on his coat and helped him to put it on, because he had to call on the Spanish Ambassador. He did not want to go, and put it off as long as he could. When he had gone, she sat at the window, consciously grateful for her happiness, watching for his return. But at seven, she saw him gallop down the street to the Duke’s house and run into it, leaving his horse in the middle of the road.

For two hours, she waited and worried. He had warned her already that when operations began he would be neglecting his duty if he thought for five minutes of anything else; so when at last he came back, she made him some strong green tea and did not ask any questions.