Morris blinked and blurted out, “But—that was at Lauffeld, wasn’t it, Ross?”
“Damn near a year ago,” said the major, patently appalled. “Haven’t you even writ?”
“I—er, I seldom write letters, sir.”
“Dashed under-statement! You ought to be ashamed, you heartless young cub! Don’t it concern you that Sir Mark is likely beside himself with worry?”
“You are acquainted with my father, sir?”
“No!” Sturtevant flushed at his own vehemence, and added hurriedly, “Well, ah—that is to say, he was—is a member of White’s, as is my own sire. And—er, one hears ah, this’n that, y’know. Now, you’re looking decidedly wrung out, m’dear fellow. Best get below. We’ll be entering the Tidal Basin very soon, and you’d do well to rest a bit before we dock.”
Thanking him for his kindness, Rossiter saluted, and with an inward sigh of relief made his escape. He walked swiftly, adjusting his stride to the pitch of the wet decks, breathing deep of the clean fresh scent of the sea. The wind sent his cloak billowing, and he drew it closer. The sails flapped, the waves crashed against the bow, the shouts of the sailors rang cheerily through the chilly air. Despite the rain, gulls were wheeling about the vessel now, uttering their piercing cries, their presence a sure sign that the great ship was nearing land.
Rossiter could all but feel the stares that followed him, and knew they both very likely judged him a cold fish with not one whit of filial responsibility. He was glad to reach the companionway, and escape down the steps.
The men he had left watched his retreat in a silence that continued for a minute or two after he was out of sight. Then, Sturtevant asked in a less jovial voice, “How long have you known him?”
“Only in the hospital, sir. He’d been there about six months before I was admitted. He was quite the nurses’ darling. They’d none of them expected him to survive all those operations. The surgeons used to come and apologize because they’d found another sliver of steel or hunk of lead they must dig out.” Morris hesitated. “I used to wonder how he stood it, but I never once heard him whine.”
Sturtevant smiled faintly. “Value him high, don’t you? You’d likely heard of him before you met, eh?”
“I’d heard of his family, naturally,” said Morris, looking annoyed. “Lord, who hasn’t? Rossiter Bank, Rossiter Shipping and Trading, Rossiter Court, Promontory Point. But I’d no idea who he was when I finally met him, for I don’t move in those circles, you know. There was not a bit of height in his manner, though he can be damned frosty when he’s vexed. I took him for just another well-born young fellow. When I realized who he was—” He paused, then said defiantly, “My colonel told me he was a splendid officer.”
“So he was. You should’ve seen him on the battlefield. Knew those damned great cannon like no man I ever met. Knew how to handle his men, too. I saw him put new spirit into ’em, Lord knows how many times!” Sturtevant pursed up his lips. “Did you—er, ever know him to receive a letter?”
“Never, sir.”
“Not even from his sister? I understand he is devoted to her.”
“I believe he is. But I never knew him to get a letter from the lady.”
Sturtevant took off his tricorne, then made a grab for his wig as the capricious wind tugged at it. Shaking rainwater from the oilcloth that protected the tricorne, he swore, then said, “Is it possible, Morris, that, er—that he don’t know?”
Lieutenant Morris’ youthful face was troubled. He answered slowly, “I fear it is, sir. You may be sure none of us have breathed a word. But—I suppose he’ll soon find out.”
“Good God!”
“I’ve been wondering, sir.” Morris stared fixedly at the now visible might of Dover Castle. “Do you think… I mean, ’twould be kinder perhaps, to—ah, warn him?”
“Oh, yes. Definitely kinder.”
Their eyes met. Sturtevant squared his jaw. “How d’you mean to word it?”
Blanching, Morris gasped, “Me? Now, God forbid!”
“You are a coward, Lieutenant,” accused the major sternly.
“You’ve the right of that, sir! A downright poltroon! Never will win any medals! M’father said so. M’brother said so. Everyone who—who knows me…” The panicked declaration from this young man who had faced massed enemy bayonets with not the blink of an eye, faded into an awkward silence.
They looked at each other.
Major Sturtevant sighed. “Alas, I am a coward too.”
***
“Oh, Maggie! Did you ever in your life see such an awe-inspiring sight?”
A tall, powerfully built gentleman, moving softly down the nave of Canterbury Cathedral, overheard the quiet words and paused to smile admiringly at the young lady who had uttered them. She was, he thought, an awe-inspiring sight herself. Her figure was dainty, her complexion fair, the features delicate and lit by wide green eyes. Thick, powdered ringlets clustered charmingly beside her left ear and flirted with the shoulder of her light cloak. Altogether an adorable little creature, from the lacy ruffles that edged her pink cap, to the hem of her wide hooped skirts.
