Soldier of Fortune

'Especially when I have someone like Emily to help me,' she said, turning to indicate her maid who stood beside the wagon. 'Emily has been a saint. When I asked her to come with me, she was afraid that Father would punish her for it but she came nevertheless. I think Father will praise her for the way she's looked after me.'

'You've caused Sir Nicholas a lot of heartache.'

'That couldn't be helped.'

'He wrote to the Duke of Marlborough to tell him what you'd done. That was how I got to hear of your little adventure.'

'Oh dear!' she exclaimed. 'I was hoping to surprise you.'

'You've certainly done that, Abigail,' he said. 'When I saw those troops riding up, the last thing I expected was for you to jump out of one of their wagons. Where have you been since you left England?'

'I've so much to tell you, Daniel. It's been extraordinary. Is there somewhere we can talk in private?'

'Yes, of course — we'll go to my tent.'

'Come and meet Emily first,' she insisted. 'She deserves thanks for getting me here in one piece.'

Daniel walked back to the wagon with her and was introduced to the maid. He had glimpsed her on his visit to the Piper household in London but had spared her no more than a cursory glance. Emily looked flushed and weary. When she shot Daniel a look of intense admiration, he realised how much Abigail had been singing his praises. Behind her deference and her blind loyalty to her mistress, he sensed that Emily was a resourceful young woman, brave enough to endure the vicissitudes of travel through foreign countries and robust enough to stand guard over Abigail.

Calling a man over, Daniel instructed him to escort Emily to the area where the camp followers were accommodated. The women who trailed the army in the baggage wagons were no longer the prostitutes and slatterns of former days. Because they caused distraction and spread disease, Marlborough had outlawed them from his army. In their place were the wives and women friends of the soldiers, willing to accompany their men into places of great danger and acting as washerwomen, cooks, seamstresses and, occasionally, as nurses on the way. Emily went off with the soldier, who carried what little luggage she and her mistress had brought.

As they walked together through the camp, Daniel collected many envious stares while Abigail harvested appreciative whistles and muttered words of wonder. He was grateful to take her into his tent and away from the public gaze. Abigail gazed lovingly up at him then she suddenly burst into tears.

'What's the matter?' he asked, enfolding her tenderly in his arms. 'You're safe now, Abigail. There's no need for you to cry.'

'I never thought we'd get here,' she said, biting her lip. 'Some terrible things happened to us on the way. It was dreadful. What frightened me most was that, even if we did manage to reach the army, you might not be here. Our journey would have been in vain.'

'Why not sit down and tell me all about it?'

'It's so wonderful to see you again, Daniel.'

'And it's wonderful to see you,' he said, guiding her to a stool and sitting beside her. 'Now dry your eyes and let me have a proper look at you.'

Abigail took a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her tears. The exigencies of travel had left their signature on her. Some of her bloom had gone and her hair was matted and lacking its former sheen. Her cheeks had hollowed slightly, making her beauty a little ravaged. As he appraised her, Daniel could see all the things that had attracted him to her but he no longer regarded her through the eyes of a potential lover. What she now aroused were his paternal instincts. Instead of wanting her in his bed, he felt impelled to protect her by taking on the role of a father.

'It was your fault,' she said quietly. 'You were responsible for my decision to come here.'

'I gave you no encouragement to do such a thing, Abigail.'

'Yes, you did. It was when we met over dinner that night. Lord Godolphin asked you about some of your escapades and you said — I remember it clearly — that there were times when you had to act on impulse and follow your inner promptings.'

'I was talking about the heat of a battle,' he recalled, 'about decisions made in a time of crisis.'

'That was exactly my position,' she said earnestly. 'When I heard that you were leaving me, I was faced with a crisis. So I did what you advised, Daniel, and acted on impulse. I let my heart rule my actions.'

'But think of the consequences.'

'I reached you at long last and that's everything to me.'

'Didn't you consider how hurt and anxious your parents would be? They must be sick with worry — and so must your sister. The wonder is that Dorothy made no mention of your flight in her letter.'

Abigail was stung. 'Dorothy wrote to you?'

'Her letter caught up with me in the Netherlands.'

'But she told me that it would be wrong to write to you. In fact, she dissuaded me from doing do, saying that it would make you think less of me if I put pen to paper. Yet all the time,' she went on, anger reddening her cheeks, 'my sister planned to send you a letter herself. That was vile treachery. What did she say?'

'She simply wrote to wish me good luck,' said Daniel, hiding the truth from her. 'I can only assume that her letter was sent before you decided to sail after me.'

'Has she written to you again?'

'No, Abigail.'

'Are you sure?'

'I had one short letter and that was that.'

'Have you kept it?'

'No,' said Daniel, 'and even if I had, I'd not have shown it to you. It's private correspondence, Abigail. It has no relevance to you.'

'It has great relevance,' she said, still enraged. 'It proves what a lying and deceitful sister I have. Dorothy is not content with having her own admirers, she's trying to steal you as well.'

'That won't happen,' he assured her.

'Do you give me your promise?'

'Yes, Abigail.'

'What Dorothy did was unpardonable.'

'On balance,' he said, 'I think that it might have been better for all concerned if your sister had not written to me and if you had not pursued me halfway across Europe.'

Her face crumpled. 'Aren't you pleased to see me, Daniel?'

'I'm always pleased to see you,' he replied gallantly, 'but I'd rather do so in the safety of an English house than in a theatre of war. You've seen the size of our army, Abigail. The French and Bavarians will throw just as many men into the field. It's simply not a place for a young lady like you to be.'

'I thought you'd be touched by my devotion.'

'I am — very touched. You've shown amazing courage.'

'Yet you wish I hadn't bothered to come.' 'I wish it for your sake,' said Daniel, squeezing her hand. 'If you stay with us, you'll witness the most appalling things. A lot of those soldiers we saw as we walked past just now will give their lives in battle before long. War is a cruel and repulsive business, Abigail. I want to shield you from all that.'

'But I feel perfectly safe now I'm with you.'

'We can't stay together for long. I have duties.'

'I understand that, Daniel. Knowing that we're in the same camp is enough for me.' Her eyes moistened again. 'That's all I want. Surely, it's not too much to ask.'

He was moved by her plea. Though he wanted to send her back home, he felt it would be too unkind to tell her so at that moment. Abigail deserved time to recover from her travails and a chance to enjoy some leisure, albeit briefly, with the man she adored. She would soon see how hard and unremitting life in an army camp could be for a woman. Harsh experience of the realities of warfare would be more persuasive than anything he could tell her.

'No,' he said softly, 'it's not too much to ask, Abigail. It was a treat to see your face when you recognised me.'

She brightened at once. 'I'd recognise you anywhere, Daniel.'

'You said that terrible things happened to you on the way here.' 'Did I?'