30th May, evening in camp

The 74th. Cobb glanced sidelong at Macgregor, whose red face was split into a broad grin. Well then.

"74th, ye say? By God, man, I may've even seen ye 'round there, then! 'Magine that, eh?"

"Don't reckon you did, sir." Or maybe he had, and Sharpe just didn't remember. Ah well... could try a bit of flattery, maybe? "I reckon I'd've remembered you, sir."

"Maybe, maybe," Macgregor said blithely. "I was nothin' more'n a lieutenant then. Not worth noticin' t'all!"

"Indeed," Cobb commented, a trace of annoyance in his voice. Not nearly enough of a trace for Macgregor to notice, of course, but the others around the table shouldn't be so thick as to miss it.

Naturally, the captain missed it entirely. "Aye. And wounded at that!" Macgregor shook his head ponderously. "All the same, laddie. Shame ye didn't stay. Best regiment in the Line, ours!"

Sharpe was only an Ensign with the 74th, of course, but he wasn't about to say that and start off a storm of comments about raising officers from the ranks and all that sort of stupidity. He busied himself with cutting up the rest of the food on his plate, trying not to look too unused to the cutlery.

Jenny hid a smile at Cobb's observation, hoping dearly that Woodmarsh had heard.

"Tell me, Mister Sharpe," Blackwood cut in. It was time to save the poor fellow. "Is India where you learned your steadiness? It's an admirable quality in an officer, indeed."

As is discretion, he thought wryly, glancing pointedly at Macgregor.

"Flanders, sir," Sharpe said decidedly. It was in the disastrous Flanders campaign in 1794 that he'd seen at first-hand the need for leadership - real leadership - that the men in the ranks had. "If the men have good, steady officers, they'll be steady theirselves. But without decent officers, it don't matter what you threaten 'em with." And probably some men here were damn quick to threaten the cat for minor infractions.

Ah. Flanders. Blackwood himself had not been there, so he could not compare experiences on that point.

"Very true," he agreed and thought of the previous night's patrol. Both Rifles officers had conducted themselves very well. With luck, their attachment to Blackwood's company would continue to go so well.

Sadly Woodmarsh had been mostly paying attention to his food as the conversation had carried on, not having much interest in hearing about Sharpe's heroic exploits. No one had deigned to involve him in the conversation, so what need was there for him to listen to them blather on about the most likely embellished feats of some raggedy rifleman?

"I am given to understand," Graham cut in. "That Indian natives have their own forms of hunting. Elephants and the like. I don't suppose you saw anything of that sort, Sharpe?"

Fortunately, Macgregor had subsided somewhat now, having turned his attention to the plate before him. Cobb washed down some stew with a swallow of wine and settled his gaze on Woodmarsh. Interesting how the man had not even seemed to paid any mind to the conversation.

"Tell me, Woodmarsh," the Pioneer lieutenant said lazily, before Sharpe had a chance to answer Graham's question. "Were you part of the patrol last night? Being as you are part of Captain Blackwood's company now, I should think you'd leap at the chance for honour and glory, in whatever form."

Though Cobb's question had caught him off guard, Woodmarsh acted as though he was not in the least surprised, taking a long, leisurely drink of wine before answering.

"Regretfully I did not participate in the patrol last night," he said, "I had been assigned some...other duties...to which I needed to attend. But I am most saddened to have not been there."

He gave a disappointed sigh as though he truly was sad to have missed out on the previous evening's action. In reality he could not have been happier to have avoided any sort of fighting. The action in his own tent had been much more satisfying than some silly patrol.

Blackwood lifted an eyebrow. In truth, he had not given much thought to the possible reasons for Woodmarsh's absence from the patrol. Now that Cobb had so indelicately mentioned it, however... he found himself regarding the presence of Woodmarsh's companion in a wholly different light. Well.

"It is probably as well," Blackwood said. "Last night was not a good one for Light Company subalterns Still. Lieutenant Wickes' loss leaves you a vacancy to move up into, perhaps, Mister Woodmarsh."

Sharpe was thankful to be forestalled by Lieutenant Cobb, which took some of the heat off him and meant he could eat some more food without feeling that he had to rush chewing and swallowing simply to be able to formulate an answer.

So... Woodmarsh hadn't been there last night? When he should have been. His opinion of the newly-arrived lieutenant dropped even lower and he felt sorry for Miss Ross, to have been dragged here by such a man.

"Lieutenant Wickes?"

"Ah, yes," Graham said, his brow creasing the barest bit. "John Wickes. He was a decent fellow, as I recall. Cut down by some damned Frog trooper, wasn't he, sir? Shame."

Blackwood's face gave no sign of feeling one way or the other. "Shot, actually. But yes, a shame indeed. I had liked him."

"Poor man," Olivia said. She didn't recall having ever met Lieutenant Wickes, but she hoped he had not been married. That was each of their fear - that their husbands would go on patrol one night and not come back. A terrifying thought, indeed.

She pushed a curl slightly back from her face, and looked across the table. "Did you know him, Miss Ross?"

"No," Jenny answered. "But I've known many other good men who went the same way."

"Damned shame," Macgregor rumbled, slopping some wine onto his lap. "Never a happy occasion to lose good officers."

Cobb kept a grimace from his face. Barely. "Less so bad ones," he muttered, mostly to himself. Then, in an effort to salvage the conversation, he asked, "How well did your patrol turn out, if I may ask?"

He was obliged to hold off answering until he had chased a mouthful of food down with some wine. "It went well enough," Blackwood replied once he was able. "There were a few good men lost, but we stirred up a cavalry troop and sent them packing. A fine showing by our combined force. Especially in darkness."

Kyle had been a bit late. Well he knew he was more so late then any of the other officers to dinner. He'd been rather busy as of late. Mainly due to how he was trying to figure out what was going on with certain things here and there. He was also rather annoyed and upset at the fact they had lost another good young officer in the patrol. He was from his regiment too, so in a way it hit him pretty hard. It was like a loss of a brother in a way. Even though Kyle had been recently made the new captain of 1st company that same day.

When Kyle entered the tent he looked around for a second, and noticed a few fimiliar faces, and some new ones. He knew Lieutenant Sharpe, and Captain Blackwood. The others however, he had yet to get to know. He also noticed a good few of woman as well. Kyle raised a brow at this. He'd seen this before back over in India. Most were married woman then, or young girls not yet considered adults who came along with their mothers or young lovers. After all some 17 and 16 year olds were often well known for joining in and going over seas. However by what he could tell or rather guess from the looks of things most were single, and around their early 20's, to late 20's. Kyle shrugged it off however. Kyle then walked over towards Blackwood, and the others, to join them for dinner. "Good evening to you all." Kyle greeted as he took a seat, and removed his blade, then placing it on the ground next to him. "How is everyone? You all seem a bit down... is it due to the young Lieutenant who lost his life during the patrol?" Kyle asked as he made himself a bit more comfortable.

Macgregor's reddened face turned toward the late arrival. "And who are you, sir?" The Scotsman boomed, nearly dropped his laden fork into his lap. "Were you out on that patrol then?"

Next to him, Cobb sighed quietly. Would no one remove this drunken idiot? "It is a shame, certainly, to lose a man," he said. "But his dying makes room for promotion for others." So it's just as well, he thought.

"I hate fightin' at night - it allus leads to trouble." He turned to Blackwood. "Sorry to hear you lost an officer - ain't ever easy, that." He wondered if the young subaltern had been a popular officer or not.

He ought to try to change the subject, really - it was the height of rudeness to discuss recently fallen comrades at a dinner with ladies present. Even he knew that!

Kyle jumped a little at the sudden yelling from the scotsmen. After he was done Kyle shook his head. "No, I wasn't with them... I coudn't go. And my name is Kyle Judd the new CO of the 95th rifles 1st company." Kyle replied to the scot. "And I am sorry for bring up a bitter subject. So changing the subject may I ask the names of some of you here?" Kyle asked trying to change the subject. He knew what he did was bad, and he could tell how Sharpe was looking that he knew it was time to change the subject.

"Captain Judd," Blackwood greeted, the barest trace of irritation in his voice. Who did this fellow... never mind. Not a topic for contention at the present. Instead, Blackwood lifted a hand to make the requested introductions.

"May I present Lieutenant Knox, of my own regiment. Lieutenant Cobb, of the Twenty-seventh. Captain Macgregor, of the Seventy-fourth. Lieutenant and Missus Graham, also Coldstream. Lieutenant and Missus Tolliver, Coldstreamers. Lieutenant Sharpe, Ninety-fifth Rifles. Lieutenant Woodmarsh and Miss Ross, Coldstreamers. "

Kyle could hear the slight annoyance in Blackwoods greeting, but paid no mind to it. After all he did have every right to be annoyed with Kyle. Kyle had no place to talk about losing an officer in this war, or anyone for that matter. Kyle just listened intently to the names being said. After Blackwood was done, he quickly rose to his feet, and made a slight bow. "A pleasure to meet you all, I hope you can forgive my entrance." Kyle said to everyone.