'Very good, my Lord.
'Write it now!
'Of course, my Lord. The clerk withdrew.
A clock chimed eight in the corridor outside. Lord Fenner smiled. 'The Prince of Wales' Own Volunteers, he said the new name with a sneer, 'will proceed forthwith to Spain, Major, but not with your presence. They will be commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Bartholomew Girdwood. I am sure that under his command they will acquit themselves nobly.
'Indeed so, Sir Henry interjected. It had been his idea that Girdwood should be given command of the First Battalion and that he should take to Spain, along with the trained men from Foulness, the officers from the disbanded camp. He and Lord Fenner, reluctantly but sensibly, had agreed that, because the Battalion had surfaced so dramatically, it would be prudent to abandon the business of selling recruits. They would not, they convinced themselves, lose much money thereby. The war could not last long. The northern allies had agreed to fight again, France was beleaguered, and Fenner was certain that peace was within sight. He and Simmerson had made themselves a tidy fortune, and now, thanks to Sharpe's arrest, they could avoid all scandal.
Sharpe said nothing. There was nothing to say.
'You, Major Sharpe, Fenner stared at him with triumph and distaste, 'have a new posting. You will leave in two days time, and until then, Major, you are under arrest. You will be captain of a convict guard in Australia.
Sir Henry Simmerson could not suppress a bark of sudden laughter. 'There are no tailors in Australia; you should feel most welcome!
Fenner smiled at the jest and looked at Sir Barstan Maxwell. 'The Duke will agree?
'He will think it far too lenient, my Lord. Maxwell sniffed. 'But if you propose it, he will agree.
'I am being lenient, Lord Fenner said magnanimously, 'because it is undeniable that Major Sharpe has served his country well. We must all hope, General, that a sea voyage will restore his wits.
‘The Duke will be so informed. General Sir Barstan Maxwell, who would have preferred to see Sharpe hanged, drawn and quartered, sounded grudging. Nevertheless, a posting to Australia was tantamount to a prison sentence. Sharpe would never return, he would be forgotten.
'Good. Fenner closed the silver lid of an inkpot with a snap. 'Your orders are being written now, Major. You will wait in the guardroom for them. Ah! It seems they're here already! There had been a discreet knock on the door. 'Come!
It was indeed the clerk who had been instructed to draw up Sharpe's orders, but, instead of bringing them to the desk, he hovered uncertainly at the door. 'My Lord?
'You have the orders?
'They're being written, my Lord. It's your wife, I fear. I did say your Lordship was not to be disturbed, but she is most insistent.
'Very insistent. The voice, precise and confident, came from the door. Fenner, who was unmarried, stared in consternation, not at the clerk, but at the woman, tall and green-eyed, smiling sweetly, who walked into the room and imperiously waved the clerk away. The Dowager Countess Camoynes, an evening cloak draped over one arm, waited until the door was shut, glanced at Sharpe, then spoke. 'I called myself your wife, Simon, to persuade that boring little man to let me in here. Sir Henry? Please don't stand up. She smiled at Simmerson who had made no move to stand, then looked quizzically from Sir Barstan Maxwell to Lord Fenner. 'Do please present me.
'Anne? Fenner's voice was an indignant growl.
'You do remember me! How very charming of you. Just as I remember Major Sharpe. I trust I find you well, Major?
Sharpe stared at her. He said nothing. He was trying to work out how he had miscalculated so badly, failed so terribly. He was blaming himself for halting the half Battalion so far from the Royal stand. He should have smashed his way through the ranks of guards to the balustrade behind which the Prince had sat. He could have wept for Jane. They had been like children, thinking love a game that bravery could win, but the bastards had won.
Lord Fenner frowned. 'My dear Anne, I am engaged on the business of state.
'Introduce me, Simon!
Fenner reluctantly stood. He cleared his throat. 'General Sir Barstan Maxwell, I have the honour of naming the Dowager Countess Camoynes. He made the introduction peremptorily. 'I presume you can wait, Anne? He said it with a bad grace, his confidence returning after the shock of her entry.
'Of course I can wait, Simon. I merely wanted to be sure you had not forgotten that I was having supper with you tonight?
'I had not forgotten. Fenner sat down and pulled his chair close to the table. 'But I am delayed and will be obliged if you would wait outside, my Lady.
'As you ask so graciously, my Lord, I will. I am honoured to have made your acquaintance, Sir Barstan. She smiled at the Guards officer, then at Sir Henry, and finally gave Sharpe a cold, unfriendly look. 'Your uniform is a disgrace, Major.
Sir Henry Simmerson, who had said the same thing at the commencement of the evening's business, gave a snort of delighted agreement. Lady Camoynes smiled at him, then looked back to Sharpe. 'You are also most remiss, Major.
'Anne! Lord Fenner said testily.
'A moment, Simon. She chided him sweetly, then looked imperiously at Sharpe. 'Most remiss indeed, Major.
'Remiss, Ma'am?
She brought her left hand from beneath her cloak. 'You promised me this, hut what is a soldier's promise? A mere bauble, yes? She smiled. She held a red leather-bound book in her gloved hand. 'I had to find them for myself! Your steward, Simon? He wanted to know what he was to burn, so he was still reading them when I arrived for our little supper. Servants are so curious about us, aren't they? She smiled at Lord Fenner. 'I have the other one. It's quite safe, of course, rescued from the flames. It has some letters inside signed by you. How careless of you not to destroy them. Do hold this book for me, Major. She turned a chair to face the large table. 'I think perhaps I'll stay now, Simon. I am so fascinated by your business of state.
General Sir Barstan Maxwell thought the world had gone mad. The Rifleman was smiling, leafing through a ledger book at which Lord Fenner and Sir Henry, white-faced and aghast, stared with disbelief. The Dowager Lady Camoynes sat, and on her elegant and disdainful face there came an expression of alert and intelligent anticipation.
The clerk was suddenly no longer needed. His records of the evening's transactions were taken by Lord Fenner and ripped into two. 'My Lord! General Maxwell protested.
'Sir Barstan, this is not your business. Go, man! This last to the clerk who, flurried by the evening's strange turn, dropped his pen and fled to the door.
General Sir Barstan Maxwell stared at the torn record. 'My Lord, I insist this is done properly! I must insist!
'It is being done properly, Sir Barstan. Lady Camoynes was suddenly dominating the room. 'Most properly indeed. If it is done any other way, my dear General, there is likely to be a most horrid scandal. Is that not true, Simon?
The General looked at Lord Fenner, who, under Lady Camoynes' gaze, nodded weakly in confirmation.
She laughed. 'A splendid scandal, General. I do think your master of York will want us to keep it a secret, don't you? Freddie's had quite enough trouble already. There was no one to dispute her words as she looked at Sharpe. 'Perhaps, Major Sharpe, you have some few requests to make of Lord Fenner?