New to the District

"Toast will be fine for me, too, thank you," Emma replied, smiling. It did seem a little backwards, having tea and then breakfast afterwards, but no doubt it was all to do with their unexpected arrival at this place, whatever it was.

"I believe our families may have met - or been in close proximity, anyway - during the Season, but whereabouts is your family's country residence?" she enquired after a moment's pause.

"My family owns several, actually, but my mother prefers Walham Court in Gloucestershire. Father prefers to stay closer to the Capital, so if he gets to choose, the family goes to Crane House near Twickenham."

He chuckled. His father was a politician, and thought it his duty to remain close to the Capital in these uncertain times, but Edward knew that he was perfectly happy to be pressured into spending some time in the Cotswolds.

"Where do you spend your time in the country? I believe your family hails from Hampshire?"

She nodded, all smiles. "Yes, indeed. From near Winchester. Well, Fallbrooke House is between Winchester and Andover, although my mother prefers to think of its being nearer Winchester than the other. It was the capital of England in ancient times, you see." She gave a slight shrug. "It is good country for riding and hunting, which my father likes - and my brothers, when they are at home."

Edward's mouth curved in respons. He rather liked riding himself.

"Are you an avid rider as well then, Miss Vickery? Or do you perhaps prefer to explore the beauty of the South Downs on foot?"

"Walking is certainly good for the health, if one does not go too far in the height of summer or the depth of winter, but one can see so much more, and rove much further, on a horse." She looked down, modestly. "I am accounted a not unaccomplished rider, although my brother is kind to say so. I fear he, ah, stretches the truth a little. I have rode to Andover and back with him, once."

"You will have to allow me the privilege of a gentleman in not believing your modest claims. I have found your brother an excellent rider himself and not given to undue flattery, so I would think that there is no exaggeration in his statement."

Edward looked out of the window. The landscape, though unfamiliar, looked quite inviting, and he wished that he could ask her to accompany him in exploring it, but propriety forbade such a question.

"How far is it to Andover from where you live, ten, fifteen miles? Liza would tell you that it is truely athletic to ride that far and back on one day."

He said the last in a rather comical voice, the appreciative laughter in his eyes putting any fear that he had intended anything other than a compliment to rest.

Emma looked back up at him, an amused gleam in her own eyes. "Then your sister does not ride, sir?" she asked. "Andover is no more than ten miles from home, if so far. I believe that if your sister were in great need of ribbon, she may be persuaded to ride that distance herself. And one may always admire the countryside."

She rather liked Captain Torrington; it was easy to see how he had become friends with her brother.

"How long have you known John for?" she asked. "And how did you both meet?"

"Not very long, I must admit; only a little more than three weeks, though I must admit it seems longer. We have met after I very naively rode into camp and his excellent batman Cotton took pity on me and directed me to his tent."

Edward chuckled at the memory.

She seized on the name. "Cotton? Is that the man who was captured by the French? John told me - he writes very often - but he never told me the man's name, although I believe he said his man was from Kent."

"Yes, Rifleman Gabriel Cotton - though I'm not quite sure why he's still only a rifleman. He has indeed been taken prisoner, along with a number of other soldiers, but it appears that they rather quickly managed to get away and rejoin the army again, collecting on their way through the mountains some rather valuable knowledge of the topography moreover."

Edward relaid what little he knew about the incident; as he had joined the camp only later, he hadn't much knowledge about what had actually led to their capture, but as he had talked to Cotton and the others quite thoroughly about the country they had traversed during their flight, he knew some details about this time.

"I would wager that the getting away was not without considerable contribution from Cotton, and I know for certain that their survey isn't. And in addition to all that he is also an excellent batman whom we all would try to lure into our services if we had any hope of succeeding."

"I wonder that John has not told me more himself." She gave a small shrug. "I can only think that he did not think that I would be interested in hearing about his servant. Although, really, I would be more than interested because, well, he is my brother."

Not knowing what and what not Captain Vickery commonly wrote to his sister and not wanting to speculate on his reasons, Edward was not unhappy that at this moment the servant came back in again, followed by another. They both carried trays and quickly laid out a simple, but tasty-smelling breakfast on the table.

"That was very quick. Thank you!"

Edward waited for Miss Vickery to make her selection, already covertly eyeing the steaming coffee-pot. If it held what the smell promised, he would indeed greatly enjoy this meal.

Emma smiled, and quirked a delicate eyebrow before reaching for the coffee-pot and a cup. "Would you like some coffee, sir?" she asked, poised to pour.

The food did look very appetising, even though she had had breakfast. Well, maybe it would do for luncheon - it must be getting on for that time of day, after all.

Edward grinned infectiously, like a boy caught eyeing a jar of sweets. The grin made him look some years younger, and much more lively.

"Yes, please, if you would be so kind. This establishment is really an excellent address if one wants to escape from the restrictions of a field-camp, it seems."

He offered the toast to her and then lifted the cover from a large platter full of kippers.

"Oha. I hope you will join me in eating those. The servants must be in league with my batman Rottländer in always providing at least twice as much food as I am likely to eat."

She offered him the cup of coffee which she had just poured, and replied, slightly daringly, "It must be all the exercise you get that keeps you so trim, then, sir, for you do not look like a man who eats to excess."

The kippers did look good, though her mother would have a fit if she saw kippers being offered at lunch. It was Emma's private opinion that the Viscountess should not be always so rigid, though she could hardly say so.

Edward pulled a comical face, not at all put out by Miss Vickery's statement; actually, he was secretly rather flattered.

"Fortunately in this respect he also regularly manages to keep me on my toes by one trick or the other. He's a very lively individual."

He took the cup with a grateful 'Thank you!', and took a deep, appreciative sip. Perhaps it was just his imagination, or it was the fact that he was taking it in this pleasant surroundings, reminding him of breakfasts at home, and with such delightful company, but it was the best cup of coffee he had had in a long time.

"Your brother habitually complains that he will go grey over the larks he and his friend are instigating."

Emma had to hide a smile at Torrington's words. "He will doubtless not appreciate my saying this, but my brother has been known to get up to some larks himself. At least, in his younger days. I do not suppose he does that sort of thing any longer. It would not be consummate with the dignity of a King's officer, I think."

She wondered what sort of 'larks' Torrington's man and his friend got up to, that her brother would complain about going grey over them.

"Oh, he behaves with beautiful dignity and sets a perfect example for the men. I shudder to think what they would be up to with a less exemplary commander."

He painted a graceful swirl in the air with his knife and added in a jesting tone:

"Perhaps he simply has installed a bit too much sense of duty in them. They can't even go on a little poaching excursion now without playing heroes in a minor skirmish and bring a prisoner back with them."

"I am sure you flatter him, sir," Emma replied, nonetheless pleased by Captain Torrington's words. She took a sip of her own coffee before deciding it was a little too hot for her, and putting the cup down. "Of course, he would hardly behave in front of the men with anything less than perfect decorum - it would be unthinkable."

'It certainly seems very thinkable for some officers!'

Edward bit himself on the tongue before the less than polite commentary could become more than a thought. He had met some rather snobbish officers who certainly seemed to have confused decorum with arrogance. Only the last week he had had a little discussion with a particularly annoying specimen in the form of one Colonel Simmerson, who had added to the irritation by becoming immediately all grovely after ten minutes of telling off a hapless engineer when said engineer had managed to finally introduce himself and had made the mistake of using his title.

Aloud he said, in pleasant agreement:

"No, certainly not."

He hesitated for a moment, then asked, his voice almost bashful:

"Would you perhaps like to see some of the men? Some sketches of them, I mean? They are not particularly good, so feel free to refuse if ..."

Thinking of Simemrson, his hand had unconsciously gone to his sketchbook, and the rather unflattering caricature he had drawn after that scene. He would certainly not show this one to anybody. In fact he would probably find a nice fireplace for it. But perhaps Miss Vickery would like to have a face, even a badly drawn one, to put to Cotton's name.

"You draw, sir?" Emma asked, slightly surprised, before catching herself. "But, of course you do - my brother tells me that you have been showing them how to make maps, and that must certainly involve some drawing." She smiled at his eagerness - and his hesitation. "I should like to see your sketches, if you are sure you do not mind showing them to me."

Edward a little shyly produced his sketchbook, already more than half filled. Some pages were torn out because he had given his sketches to the people he had drawn, some pages were quickly turned over because the sketches were less than flattering to the subject, but even so Miss Vickery could get a glimpse of several quite recognizable caricatures. One showed Sir Arthur in front of a ruined bridge, looking very haughtily down his nose, with the unlikely caption 'Standing, please!'. On the page facing it, Captain Vickery was sitting in front of his tent, talking to Cotton while he refilled his cup. Other sketches showed soldiers, doing there duties or sitting around fires, Sir Arthur, this time quite realistic, in discussion with some officers, Rottländer and another lad in a mock fight, a small chicken perched on the side and looking very interested, a rather beaten looking soldier with a bandage around his head, enjoying the sun, a rather carefully done portrait of a pretty woman, soft curls escaping from a cap and framing her face. Intermixed were pieces of landscape, some construction sketches, a plant or two. Most sketches were quickly done, capturing only the most essential lines, the most characteristic features, often comically emphasized. In a few cases he had begun to fill the framework with details, but none of these sketches were finished yet.

"I'm not a painter, if that's what you mean. I guess I can draw what I see well enough, but I lack the imagination to compose a picture or envision the colours. Such sketches are the limit of my abilities."

"You should give yourself more credit, sir," she replied, with a quick smile. "I am sure I recognise my brother, there. And so that must be the man of whom you spoke?" He looked older than she had expected, somehow, but cheerful, if Captain Torrington had drawn him accurately. She wondered who the woman was, a few pages later. "You must have more interesting subjects to draw than I do," she added, hiding a smile at the picture of the two men fighting.

"I certainly have a great variety of individuals to observe, and some rather colourful habits." Edward looked slightly apologetic. "There are certainly some scenes which a young lady ... would have no occasion to draw."

But there were others that a lady could observe as well if not better than a man, and although the drawing of most ladies was insipid, he was curious to see a work by Miss Vickery. Something in her made him think that perhaps she would excel in those areas in which he found himself lacking.

He had noticed her interest and leafed back to the portrait of the woman. "That's Mrs. Cotton, the wife of your brother's batman. And here's another one of Cotton, during a patrol. Your brother, inspecting the parade. Rottländer and Pye had been missing, that's why some of the men are looking so uncomfortable."

Smiling at her, he added:

"It's rather unfortunate that we are in a strange house, for both politeness and even more interest would lead me to inquire after your own drawings now."

He was too candid in such things to add an empty compliment before having seen any of her pictures, but he allowed his honest interest to show.

"I should like to show you them," she said, a little wistfully. "Oh! Maybe... But no. It would not be, well..." She gave a small shrug. "I hardly know you, but do you think that maybe it would not be too unseemly if I were to draw yourself, sir?"

She blushed at the very thought of it, but really, if she did not have her own sketch-book to hand, there was no other way she could really show him her own meagre skill with the pencil.