Dinner with the Rifle Officers, 10th June

Vickery had been a little worried that Cotton would not have enough time to get organised before his invited guests began showing up, but his fears had been unfounded. Considering that the Rifleman had only rejoined them the previous day, it was as though he'd never been away.

The furniture was rough and ready; Cotton had got out both the Captain's folding chairs and had improvised two more. There was an empty winebottle doing duty for a candlestick, and the table was set with the cutlery from Vickery's travelling canteen. He was very grateful that a fair proportion of the baggage hadn't been taken at all; the French had seemingly been more concerned with disrupting things than with actually helping themselves to any spoils of combat.

He discreetly checked his watch to find that it was ten to seven. Good; his guests would be here soon.

Ferrero arrived as early as possible. He always tried being on time and though he usually failed he usually felt it wasn't his fault. Today was a lucky day, and at seven o'clock Ferrero walked in.

"Good evening, Sir. I hope i'm not late."

Vickery smiled. "No, Lieutenant, you're not late at all." He indicated one of the places at the makeshift table. "How are you finding things so far?"

Ferrero sat down. The makeshift arrangement for the dinner was quite good, considering the situation.

"Well, Sir, i must say the first days have been....full" he said after a few moments "The riflemen seem to be good soldiers, as far as i can tell. I still have some problems with the germans. They tend to be...well, germans. I don't know if i can explain myself."

Were it not for his nervous new batman, Blackwood estimated he would have been closer to appropriately punctual than he ended up being. Arriving precisely two minutes after the appointed hour, according to his watch, smacked of ingratitude to him. But still he knew better than to proceed at anything faster than a walk. To do otherwise was unseemly.

There were two greenjackets present when he arrived. One was, of course, Captain Vickery. The other must be one of his lieutenants. Blackwood smiled in greeting, relieved that it did not seem that he had missed too much.

"Good evening, Captain, Lieutenant," he said. "My apologies for being tardy."

Well, of course the German men were German. He would have to dig a little deeper to find out what the exact issue was - if indeed there was an issue. It would have to wait however; Captain Blackwood was approaching.

He stood up to welcome the Guards Captain. "Captain Blackwood, may I introduce Lieutenant Ferrero? Lieutenant, this is Captain Blackwood of the Second Foot Guards."

*he hurried towards the captains tent, cursing his batman for not having his uniform properly brushed and ready for him....so what if he had ordered the man out of his tent so he could sleep off the worse of his hangover, the man should have known better then to listen.
He paused outside the tent to catch his breath, as he did so he took the time to look himself over making sure his still unfaded tightly fitted uniform was near immaculate before stepping inside. he removed his shako and tucked it under his arm before speaking.*

"Dreadfully sorry for being late sir, I had last minute troubles with my uniform."

He noted the manner in which the subaltern's name was pronounced and guessed it was the proper way to do so.

"Mister Ferrero," Blackwood greeted with a nod, offering his hand to Vickery first, and then to the lieutenant. This was a comparatively informal circumstance and he was perfectly willing to dispose with such courtesies as salutes.

And here came a second junior officer, this one most likely also a lieutenant. Blackwood nearly smiled upon hearing the poor fellow's opening excuse for his tardiness. It was much the same as his own, perhaps.

And here was Lieutenant Campbell... running late. Vickery hoped that was not a sign of things to come.

"And this is Lieutenant Campbell," he added, and indicated the makeshift table. "Gentlemen, if you would make yourselves comfortable. May I offer you some wine? TI am assured that our food will be along shortly."

*he looked to the red coated captain, blinking as he saw the colour of the jackets facings.*
"I say sir, your with the Guards are you not? I am Second Lieutenant James Campbell at your service sir."

*he looked to the table for a moment his eyes lighting up at the mention of wine, though he quickly hid it, based on his captains breeding he trusted the man must at least have a decent pallet for good wine.*

At the entrance of the other officers, Alberto stood up and greeted the Captain and then the Lieutenant. He tried not to be too friendly with the Guards officer, after all he was a Captain, probably not too inclined to be informal.

He was also secretly happy about the fact that luckily for him, he wasn't the last person arrived.

"Mister Campbell," Blackwood greeted, offering his hand. "I am, indeed. Of the Light Company, to be precise."

He shook each offered hand his grip firm. He then looked back to red coated captain and smiled.

"A very fine regiment indeed sir, it is an honor and a pleasure to serve alongside such a historic regiment. Nothing quite like us light infantry first on the field and last off and all that."

Vickery smiled. "Indeed. Although I do not suppose that we have any chance of recruiting you into the Rifles, Captain?"

There was something in the young lieutenant's tone, never mind his words, that made Blackwood passingly curious about the lad's regimental loyalties. To mention anything of the sort, even in question, would be impolitic, however.

Instead, he permitted himself a smile. "The honour and pleasure are mutual, Lieutenant. And no, sir. I rather think you would find me quite a poor recruit."

"Dinner's served," Cotton said, though there was hardly any need for the announcement. He brought two steaming plates of stew over and laid them down,one in front of Captain Blackwood and one in front of Mister Ferrero, before going back for the others.

He wished Newbury was here to help out; he would appreciate the other man's experience of being a footman. No... on the other hand, Newbury would probably just show him up because he had next to no experience of doing this for anyone other than the captain himself.

He laid the other two plates down in front of the Captain and Mister Campbell, and stepped back.

he moved to take a seat at the table, making sure to avoid sitting at either end of the table. standing before the table and not sitting before either captain does. When they do so he sits as well, waiting for the wine to be served and the various toasts/graces made, eyeing the stew and licking his lips slightly.

Vickery quirked an eyebrow at Campbell; the Lieutenant looked very keen to dig in to his food.

"Well, eat up," he said genially. "I am afraid it's no more than ration beef, however." Though the first mouthful proved him wrong; there was definitely rabbit in it as well. He could trust his batman to make things go further if necessary, it seemed.

The stew smelled delicious. Blackwood nodded his thanks at the batman serving out the plates as he took a seat. Of the two subalterns, it seemed as though Campbell was the more eager to tuck in.

"Ration beef or not," he observed after taking a sample taste, "it is well prepared."

He took a spoonful of the stew and nodded in agreement with Blackwood, though his eyes continued to search for wine.

"Yes, very tasty, did you make this your self Cotton? if so I would be much obliged if you gave the recipe to my batman...I swear the man could burn water."

Cotton had gone pink under his tan at Captain Blackwood's compliment, and was covered in confusion at Mister Campbell's question. He was fairly sure folks weren't supposed to notice the servants waiting on them... but what did he know, really?

"Yes, sir," he replied, answering both questions and the implied order all at once. He noticed the Lieutenant looking around and hastily stepped forward to top up his glass before stepping back again.

While his intent had not been to embarrass the Rifleman, Blackwood meant his praise honestly. One could have the finest ingredients in the world but it was all useless if the fellow preparing the meal could not cook. This was happily not the case here.

"I daresay you might not do so well giving any receipts to your man, Mister Campbell, if he can indeed burn water," Blackwood remarked placidly.

"It must take a prodigious talent to burn water," Vickery said, with a smile. "I have known a kettle boil dry before, but I have never yet come across anyone who could actually burn water."

He had another mouthful of stew. "I understand that cooking is mostly timing and knowing how long the various ingredients take to cook... although I am no great hand at cooking, myself. I think I could manage to boil an egg - should anybody wish to eat one that is as hard as brass, that is."

He chuckled and looked to the captain as he reached for his glass of wine and took a sip.

"You might be right sir, perhaps its best if he sticks to burning what he knows? He might not know how to cook but he more then makes up for it with his treatment of uniforms, I believe he was formally a tailor."

He looked to Vickery and grinned as he took another sip of wine.

"we will have to keep that in mind sir, should we ever run out of bullets."

"If we get to the point where we are throwing even stones at the French, then we will be in serious trouble," Vickery replied, smiling. "If your man can get a uniform to look even half smart after six months of campaigning, he will be among the ranks of the miracle-workers."

A former tailor... he wondered that Sergeant Müller hadn't taken the man to help look after the stores and to help recut and re-sew the men's jackets when there was a new issue. Not, of course, that his men would be issued new jackets for a while yet. It was likely that the man had just kept quiet about his former trade, preferring to do some real fighting rather than getting stuck with the Stores.