Beat the Drums Slowly (41 page)

In Corunna the shock had rocked the houses and shattered most of the windows. A flying shard of glass had cut open the back of Esther MacAndrews’ hand and another jagged piece had narrowly missed young Jacob. The baby woke and howled and it was a long time before he would be comforted. One of the little blankets they had got him had been drying in front of the fire. The guard had fallen over and the wool was burning before Jane could rescue it. Her mother complained insincerely that they would now have to go out and buy more things for the baby. A maid was summoned to care for the child, and the two of them set out into the streets. Jane sensed that her mother was enjoying every moment, and seemed especially determined to find what she wanted in a town almost beset by the enemy and preparing for evacuation. Yet life continued and the shops were still open. Jane found herself drawn to a window with a rich display of lace, and remained to inspect it properly while her mother went to the next shop in search of soft cotton.

‘Good morning, my dear Miss MacAndrews, it is such a delight to see you unscathed, and indeed looking so gloriously beautiful.’ Captain Wickham was immaculately turned out. His boots, buttons and epaulettes gleamed, his jacket had been brushed down carefully, and his trousers were neatly pressed. Sent to help arrange for the embarkation of the Reserve Division, he was now happily ensconced in a comfortable room shared with only one other staff officer. He was well fed, washed and shaved, and had even managed several successful hands of cards the evening before. Now he glimpsed the prospect of completing his pleasure.

‘Good day to you, sir,’ Jane managed to stammer out. She had almost forgotten the suave officer. The face was familiar, and yet now she saw in it a hard indifference to the needs of others. Surprise and anger mingled. Her complexion reddened, and Wickham saw this as a good sign.

‘We were all so very worried,’ he said, giving his most earnest stare. ‘I was so very worried,’ he added more quietly, and before Jane knew it he was pressing her hand.

In the first heat of her rage at him she had taken pleasure in devising cutting remarks, intended to wound and shame him at their next encounter. Then so much had taken place that she had forgotten him. The hatred did not return now, and instead Jane felt a wave of disgust at Wickham, and at herself for ever dallying with the man, or being so much of a child as to see it as excitingly dangerous.

‘I missed you, Jane,’ he whispered, and his hand slid up her arm.

‘Then perhaps you should have the courtesy to attend meetings you have arranged. Although I must inform you that never in the future will they be arranged with me.’ Jane would have liked her voice to sound calmer, but Wickham was obviously shocked, so much so that she was able to free herself from his grip and step away. ‘I bid you good day, Mr Wickham.’

The officer rallied quickly from his surprise. Women had snapped at him before, and yet still been won over. He smiled, and Jane found his demeanour deeply wounding because he so obviously felt that her resentment was temporary, and had continued confidence in his own charms. He raised his hat and was gone before she could come up with any suitable reproof.

Her mother seemed to be taking a long time, and Jane was so agitated that she thought it best to return her gaze to the window so that her expression did not betray her to the many passers-by.

Williams’ heart leapt when he glimpsed the mass of red curls pinned back into a bun and topped with a little straw bonnet. He had not seen Jane since they returned, although even when most exhausted she had seldom left his thoughts. The girl was wearing a sea-green dress with a short laced jacket over it.

‘Good morning, Miss MacAndrews.’

Jane’s face showed annoyance as she turned in surprise, and then softened in recognition. ‘Mr Williams,’ she said, and even in her still-disturbed mood she lavished a smile upon him. ‘This is a happy chance. I did not know that the regiment was in the town?’

‘We are not yet,’ explained Williams. ‘I have been sent to help make arrangements for us to embark. That is my errand now, and I have to find Captain Wickham.’ He was pleased to see the flicker of displeasure the name prompted, even though his suspicions of the man’s intentions towards the girl had faded away in the dramas of the last weeks.

‘Then perhaps I should not detain you.’

‘Well, may I first … That is, I am truly glad to encounter you.’ He had planned what he meant to say, but the words crumbled in the face of reality, and so he sought refuge in courtesy. ‘Your mother is well, I trust?’

‘Indeed. You may see her in a moment as she is engaged in purchasing a few minor things.’

‘And is young Jacob in good health?’

‘Good health and even stronger voice.’ They both smiled, but in neither case was their attention truly on the conversation. Williams barely noticed the many strangers passing in the street, but felt that what he wanted to say ought to be said in a greater degree of privacy.

‘Miss MacAndrews, may I draw you away for a walk along the battlements?’

Jane still seethed at the impudent assurance of Wickham. Did he see her as a fool, or as an innocent to be led easily astray? She barely heard the question.

‘I beg your pardon.’

‘I wondered whether you might like to walk.’

Jane frowned. ‘Do you not have your duties, Mr Williams?’ She tried to forget her annoyance and instead indulge her taste for mischief. ‘Or is your wish to lure me away from my mother for some nefarious purpose?’

‘Given the time we spent alone in recent days, you should be better placed to judge my intentions.’ Miss MacAndrews smiled in approval, and then Williams worried that she might think he referred to their brief physical encounter and he panicked because he knew he longed to hold her again, but that was not what he had meant. Then the next words tumbled out without restraint. ‘I wish to ask you to marry me.’

In spite of herself Miss MacAndrews gasped. His intentions and efforts to draw her away now seemed so obvious. Only her preoccupation could have prevented her from understanding his purpose.

‘That is an honour, sir. I am flattered and do not quite know how to respond for the question is unexpected and so much has happened.’

She had not yet refused, and his hope soared. ‘The reply need not be made in haste. One single word could make me the happiest fellow in the world, but I will wait for ever to hear it.’

Jane was not quite sure what he meant, and then remembered something. ‘You are kind.’ There was something endearing as well as infuriating about his odd mixture of passion, worship and calm reason. ‘And yet it is but a few months since you told me that you were in no position to ask for my hand. I am surely entitled to know what has changed. I am not aware that you have come into a fortune.’ Miss MacAndrews glared at an hussar officer who was lingering and obviously eavesdropping on their conversation. The sense that she was being watched offended her.

‘That is sadly true. I have little to offer.’ He also turned to stare at the officer, recognised the captain he had met at Sahagun and nodded amiably. The hussar sauntered off. ‘I know I have so little to offer.’ He leaned closer to her and dropped his voice. ‘I simply love you, Jane.’

He was genuine. She could tell that. The tremor in his voice was not affected. An hour before and she would no doubt have responded, an open street or not. Instead, the gesture reminded her of Wickham and she sickened herself remembering her former excitement at his attentions and how close she had come to ruin.

‘You have not answered my question, Mr Williams? I cannot see how matters have changed.’

Williams shrugged; he did not wish to be indelicate. Surely the truth was obvious? He stated it anyway. ‘We have travelled since then. Alone, and for days on end. And we have …’ He stopped himself. Did she not understand? ‘It is a question of honour.’

‘Honour?’

He failed to catch the angry inflexion. ‘I would not have the slightest tarnish on your reputation.’

‘Would you not?’ He had not managed to say anything in the way that he had planned. Williams knew that he had angered the girl even if he did not truly understand why.

‘Would you not?’ repeated Miss MacAndrews. Her voice was quiet, but absolutely clear, and her speech was fast. ‘And so you would deign to marry me, disgrace or not? As a favour, and a kindness. No one else would have me so I should be grateful for your condescension, even though you openly confess to be a man without wealth or obvious prospects.’

‘But …’

‘Disgrace, sir! What disgrace? I do not recall any moment of disgrace. And I might add that if such had occurred then you would have been responsible, and would not you who speak of honour be the cause of dishonour?’ She thought of Wickham and his obvious lechery.

‘I did not mean …’

‘How can you expect any woman who is not truly degraded to appreciate an offer made so discourteously? Oh, you are generous, sir, so generous to speak now of marriage! The proud and kind gentleman and the wayward girl!’

She had to draw breath at some point, and Williams just managed to make a weak protest. He was confused and more than a little angry. ‘My admiration of you is long standing. I first told you of it when we were still in England so that you can be under no illusion that I speak from pity or a sense of obligation. If I were not involved I would have spoken no differently. My life, my everything, will always be at your disposal to save you from the least harm, whether to person or reputation.’

‘I do not recall asking for your protection,’ said Jane, although she remembered how he had rescued her and knew that in truth she was both grateful and flattered. Everything was happening the wrong way.

‘You have it anyway, for I have no choice in the matter.’ He almost flung the words at her, and his face had grown red. ‘I do not believe such a thing is dishonourable, but whether or not, it is beyond my control.’ Many of the passers-by were watching. Williams no longer cared, but Miss MacAndrews was wishing they had not chanced upon each other at such a time and place.

Mrs MacAndrews rescued them before worse was said and greater offence taken.

‘Ah, Jane, they found the material in the end, so we have enjoyed success.’ She appeared to notice her companion for the first time. ‘Oh, Mr Williams, I am most pleased to see you. You must tell Dobson that his grandson thrives, and that when it is convenient I wish to have a word with him to discuss the boy’s future.’ She permitted him the briefest of replies. ‘I understand that you are helping to arrange the transportation. Do you have any news for us?’

‘The cavalry and artillery are already embarking. The baggage will follow for each division, so you may be sent for this evening or tomorrow morning. The major sends his compliments and says that he hopes you will both be put on board the same ship as him, but that nothing is yet certain.’

‘Then I am sure you have much to do, and we must not detain you from your duty.’ Mrs MacAndrews stared fixedly at him. ‘I trust that duty will not prevent you from obtaining a more suitable item of headgear.’ Williams was still wearing his bedraggled forage cap, and wondered whether this was a reproof for not having removed it. He raised it now, bade them good day and hastened up the street. Williams felt more battered and bruised than after the fight at the bridge, and a good deal more confused. He was simply uncertain whether or not his hopes and thus his life were in ruins, and tried to tell himself that if he were not sure then there might still be some faint chance.

Esther MacAndrews looked at her daughter. She had still only wormed a little out of her about her escapades. Jane looked flustered, but she was nineteen and the mother could remember that when she had been young the important and desperate emotion of one day had faded by the next. There was no indication that anything too terrible had happened, either during her adventures or in the last few moments.

‘It seems that Mr Williams has been taking care of you once again, my dear.’ The mother spoke with as much innocence as she could muster, and consciously or not the accent of the Carolinas became stronger.

Jane looked briefly angry, but did not wish to be drawn.

‘A chance encounter,’ she said. ‘We spoke only for a few moments as I waited for you.’ It seemed better to move her mother on to a different subject. ‘May I see the cotton roll?’

‘It is wrapped, so better to wait until we are back at the hotel. I think you will be pleased, though.’ Esther MacAndrews was not about to be so easily diverted. Jane’s own sense of mischief was inherited from her mother, along with much of her character, if not her appearance. As Williams passed beyond earshot, Esther smiled warmly at her daughter. ‘I have become very fond of that young man,’ she drawled.

‘I believe that Mr Williams also holds himself in very high esteem.’ Jane was not inclined to be fair at that moment.

‘Well, Jane, you know him far better than I,’ responded her mother, with an emphasised lack of conviction.

Jane was unsure what was meant by the comment. Her mother was already expecting another man’s child when she met and fell in love with her father. They too had their adventures, hunted by the militia as he escaped from captivity to reach the British lines. Was her mother suggesting that Jane’s own recent behaviour was similar? Surely, given her own history, she would not be disposed to judge, but what conduct would she consider to be natural and so assume had occurred?