29th May - morning, after breakfast

As soon as Woodmarsh was called away to his duties, whatever they were, Jenny approached his servant Christian who had been assigned as her protector. Did she detect some resentment?

"Poor Christian," she said, linking her arm in his as he was trying to pack the lieutenant's things. "You don't mind staying with me, do you? To protect me from rough and dangerous fellows while we march?"

Continuing to pack with one hand, Christian did his best to hide his irritation and mumbled something noncommittal.

"Any particular 'rough and dangerous fellows'?" he asked after a moment, extricating his arm from hers.

She began to help him by folding blankets from the cot. "Naturally. Didn't you see my bruises when you came in earlier and got an eyeful? Or I could show you now." She gave him a grin, looking to see if he was warming up at all. "Don't be so glum, dearie. We should be friends."

He remembered. Vividly. Colouring slightly, he shrugged. It wasn't that he disliked Jenny; he simply disliked being assigned as personal bodyguard to his officer's mistress. He was a soldier, not a bloody watchdog. And from what he had seen of her, he did not like to think of what the aforementioned "rough and dangerous fellows" would do to him when he got in the way.

"You don't have to do that, you know, " he said, taking one of the folded blankets from her.

"I know," she said amiably as she continued. "I just want to help." But she stopped anyway and sat down on the cot. "To be honest, there are some rough and dangerous fellows who'd like to do for me, some provosts. Or former provosts. Now they've been returned to the ranks, or whatever it's called. Returned to their regiments. Your lieutenant was at their court martial last night."

Provosts. Provosts that had just been convicted and would be out for revenge. "Oh, bloody brilliant," he burst out, before remembering that there was some sort of rule about swearing in front of women and mumbling a hasty apology. "What'd you do to run afoul of them, then?"

"Nothing. Wrong place at the wrong bloody time," she said with a bit of a grin. "But I'd hate to run afoul of them again. That's why I need a lieutenant on my side." It made sense to be honest about that at least.

"Yeah? Well, looks like you're stuck with me. Guess we'll both just have to make the best of it."

He turned away then, stuffing items into their appropriate receptacles with slightly more force than was necessary.

"But that's even better. A lieutenant and his batman." She returned to her absent helpfulness, folding up chairs and putting things away in the wrong places. "Anyway, you're probably a sight better at protecting a person if it comes to a scrap. I know Woodmarsh has never seen action, in spite of his bold tales."

It wasn't exactly a compliment, but her comment nonetheless soothed his wounded pride -- to some degree. At least he had ceased to take it out on his master's bedding. He managed a smirk, "Aye, that's right. God help whatever lads it is Trevor's given him."

"Amen to that," Jenny replied. She watched him for a minute, sitting on the cot again until it was time for him to dismantle it. "He must trust you quite a lot."

Christian paused in the act of packing away Woodmarsh's shaving kit and considered this. "Some, aye, I s'pose. Though I dunno as officers every really trust anyone what ain't paid through the arse for some lace on his coat."

That made her laugh. "People never think about servants. Even if they think they don't trust them, who is it that serves their food and cleans their clothes and does the shopping with their money? Servants have to mind them like children."

Christian grinned at that. He had little difficulty picturing Woodmarsh as a child, strutting about in his uniform, playing with his toy soldiers.

"You speak from experience?"

"I have some experience, yes," she said with a grin. "And a lot of experience with men who act like children. They can't be trusted to handle their own money, for example. You never catch them going to market with a basket on their arm. I suppose that task falls to you, does it, Christian?"

He nodded ruefully, "No basket, mind."

Making a mental tally of the wine bottles as he packed them away, he grimaced. That was going to be a problem. "You wouldn't happen to know if there's anyone in the regiment who supplies, ah... specialty items?"

"You don't?" she asked skeptically. "Honestly, what sort of batman are you? Try Nat Bird with the 27th. Depending on what you're looking for."

Christian glanced sharply at her, but she had given him a name, so he bit back his retort. He had known someone, but that was before Woodmarsh had been transferred to Trevor's regiment. It seemed she expected him to simply intuit these details on account of his position. He shook his head. She was starting to sound like Woodmarsh (though, he admitted grudgingly, Woodmarsh would not have been able to recommend Nat Bird from the 27th).

"I'll introduce you if you like. Or there's a fellow who follows the 33rd, name of Ezekiel something. But he's a bit of a fright. I'd go for Nat if you want discretion. What sort of specialty items are you looking for?"

"Wine an' spirits is the main thing," he said, checking to make sure the bottles were sufficiently padded so there would be no breakage. "The Frogs are the least o' my problems if those run out." He thought a moment, "Sometimes food you can't get through the regular channels. And God knows what else'll take his fancy now he's got you to think of."

She smothered a smile at the last comment. "Well I know a few regular sutlers too if it comes to that. The bottles won't run out until his money runs out, and even then there are some who take credit. But surely you get to reap the rewards as well? I imagine you have to taste everything yourself, to make sure it's good enough for your master."

Christian struggled to maintain a straight face. "Oh, o'course. Got to make sure the first rate stuff he's payin' for ain't just swill in a fancy bottle. No way to tell wi'out tastin' it, though, right? Got to look out for him that way, like."

"I thought so. I could tell you were a batman of quality. It seems we both want the same thing." She paused and gave him an innocent look. "I mean to make your lieutenant happy. I hope we can help each other to that aim."

A business arrangement, was it, then? He hesitated, wondering if there might be some kind of trap in the offer. It made sense though. As the lieutenant went, so went his batman, and he assumed the same held true of someone in Jenny's position. If Woodmarsh was happy, things would be considerably easier for the both of them.

He nodded. "A'right. I dun' see why not."

"Then we're agreed!" she laughed. "I'm so glad. It will make both of our lives so much easier. Like parents raising a child. Or like managers of his estate."