Soldier of Fortune

'Good day to you, Captain Rawson,' she said, impressed by what she saw. 'I am Abigail's elder sister, Dorothy.'

'Delighted to make your acquaintance,' he replied. 'Abigail did not mention that she had a sister.'

She smiled. 'I begin to see why now.'

'Should I go after her and try to comfort her?'

'That would be pointless. She will already have locked herself in her room and will not come out for hours. I'll speak to her later.'

'Please assure her that I didn't mean to upset her.'

'I most certainly will, Captain Rawson.'

'Do you think she would permit me to call again — when I return from my duties, that is?'

'Whatever Abigail says, you have my permission to call.'

Her gaze was supremely confident. Daniel felt as if he were meeting an older version of Abigail Piper, equally beautiful and alluring but more experienced, more mature, more knowing. One sister had fled but another had taken her place. In the space of a minute, he felt that he had made more progress with Dorothy than he had done in a week with Abigail. The younger sister might be enamoured of him but it was the elder who held the greater promise. Daniel was content. When he was next in London, he resolved to call at the house again. He would have two excellent reasons to do so.

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

It was work that Charles Catto chose to do on his own. He had to visit places where Frederic Seurel's nationality would provoke hostility. His friend therefore stayed behind in their lodging while Catto began his search, aware that Seurel would come into his own later when their quarry had been run to earth. Catto not only knew the London inns frequented by soldiers, he was able to pass himself off convincingly as a former member of the British army.

At the first two places he visited, he had no luck. The name of Daniel Rawson meant nothing to any of the discharged soldiers, carousing noisily and boasting about their military triumphs. All that they wished to do was to drink, smoke their pipes, play cards, sing out of tune and flirt with the resident prostitutes at the Drum, a lively tavern in Southwark, he had better fortune. The atmosphere was so boisterous that Catto had to shout in order be heard above the din but someone did eventually recognise the name that he mentioned.

'Captain Rawson?' said the man. 'Yes, I know him.'

'So he's a captain, is he?'

'That's right, sir.'

'What can you tell me about him?'

'I can't tell you nothin' with my throat so dry.'

'Let me buy you some more ale,' offered Catto, ready to pay for information. 'Take that seat in the corner and I'll join you.'

The man followed his suggestion. Though still in his twenties, he seemed much older and had good reason to curse his army career. In one skirmish against the French, he had lost an arm, an eye and all of his good looks. He was in constant pain yet his injuries had not dimmed his respect for Daniel Rawson.

'He was the best officer I ever served under,' he said when Catto brought two tankards across and sat beside him. 'The best and the bravest. See this?' he went on, pointing to his empty eye socket. 'And this?' He patted the empty sleeve of his coat. 'I got these when I joined Captain Rawson in a Forlorn Hope. Only six of us lived to tell the tale. Mind you, we killed a dozen Frenchies that day and broke through their defences. Captain Rawson fought like a demon. It was 'im who dragged me to safety when I got my arm blew off.'

'Do you know where he is now?'

'I might do.'

'There's money in it for you,' said Catto.

The man was suspicious. 'Why are you after the captain?'

'I have some good news to pass on to him.'

'What sort of good news?'

'That's private. Now, can you help me?'

'I could 'elp. I still have lots of friends in the regiment.'

'Which regiment is that?'

'The Duke of Marlborough's — so I get to 'ear all the gossip.'

'And what have you heard about Captain Rawson?'

The man took a long swig of ale before licking his lips. Catto slapped some coins down on the table and they were swept up quickly by the man's remaining hand.

'Well?' prompted Catto

'This is only a rumour but it's a strong one. The word is that Captain Rawson's sailin' from 'Arwich tomorrow with the Duke.' He took another swig of ale. 'Is that any use to you, my friend?'

He was talking to thin air. Catto had already left the tavern and was trotting back in the direction of his lodging, leaving behind him an untouched tankard of ale. Money and free drink — the man was delighted with his bounty. It never crossed his mind that he might just have signed Daniel Rawson's death warrant.

CHAPTER FOUR

Something was amiss. As he watched them from the ship, Daniel Rawson was both puzzled and a trifle worried. Down at the quayside, the Duke of Marlborough was taking leave of his wife before sailing off to war. Daniel had witnessed such partings between them on previous occasions and been touched by the tenderness shown on both sides. There was little tenderness now. The Duchess was as striking as ever, wearing a cloak, hat and gloves to keep out the persistent breeze that came in off the sea. It was her manner that surprised Daniel. She seemed cold and distant. Though she permitted a farewell kiss, it was more of a token than a sign of affection. At the very moment that her husband was about to walk away, she took a letter from beneath her cloak and slipped it into his hand.

Daniel was perplexed. Whenever he had seen her before, Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, had always been an imperious figure, a woman of grace, poise and real substance. Even in middle age, she had an extraordinary vitality. She was too loyal to let her husband down by not seeing him off but

Daniel sensed that she was only there for the sake of appearance. He was reminded of his visit to Holywell when he had found Marlborough and Godolphin dining alone. Daniel knew for a fact that the Duchess was in the house. Why had she not joined the two men at dinner? Was there some kind of breach between husband and wife?

It was unsettling. Daniel had lost count of the number of times he had been alone with Marlborough and listened to him talking fondly of his wife. Having the firm foundation of a happy marriage meant so much to the Duke. It deprived him of any anxieties about his family while he was campaigning in Europe. That was important. The last thing that the Grand Alliance needed was a captain-general whose mind was distracted by marital problems. Daniel had fought alongside officers who were haunted by difficulties back home and unable to concentrate fully. A soldier with preoccupations could be a severe handicap to his comrades.

Marlborough was escorted on to the Peregrine by his private secretary, Adam Cardonnel. The captain was ready to welcome them aboard. When greetings had been exchanged, Marlborough stood at the bulwark so that he could wave to his wife as the vessel set sail. Daniel was close enough to get a good view of him. Whatever tensions there might be between Duke and Duchess, they did not register on Marlborough's face. He looked as calm and confident as he usually did. Now in his early fifties — an age when many commanders had retired — he carried his years well and had the sprightliness of a veteran soldier eager to return to the battlefield.

To Daniel's perceptive eye, the Duchess's performance was less convincing. She stood bravely on the quay, raising a hand when the ship pulled away and waving gently to her husband.

Other wives who had come to watch their soldier-husbands leave were already dabbing at their eyes with handkerchiefs or blowing kisses at the departing vessel. The Duchess was apparently unmoved, fulfilling a duty rather than parting from a loved one who was off to a war that was fraught with danger. Marlborough waved with far more purpose. Significantly, it was his wife who turned away before he did.