30th May, evening in camp

If the latecomer had not outranked him—But he did and Knox had long ago learned the value of not casting disparaging glances at one's superiors. He frowned down at the inoffensive contents of his dish. Christ, they might have been discussing the weather! Or the ‘scenery’, more like, he amended with vicious, internal sarcasm.

He looked up as Blackwood made the introductions and returned the new arrival's greeting with a curt nod. At least, he admitted grudgingly, the fellow had the decency to admit his mistake.

"This is excellent wine," Jenny hazarded. It was not the offering that she had brought; hers was presumably being given time to breathe as she had instructed. Captain Blackwood's man must have good sources.

"Indeed," Macgregor agreed lustily, his fingers groping half blindly for his glass. "Excellent stuff, Blackwood. Capital!"

Beside him, Cobb gripped his spoon tightly. If that sot splashed any more wine, Cobb would likely curse at him. There were already too many splotches of spilled wine on his white trousers.

Kyle sat down and made himself more comfortable, and sat there looking down at his blade when he brought it up onto his lap. He remembered how he had been given the blade, and the pistol. Both were gifts from his parents. Then the thought hit him of how his parents would have been without a son had he died in India. Kyle's whole regiment save for 4 other lads who got away was wipped out. Not a man alive, or taken prisoner. Kyle was lucky that he had been wounded. Yet he didn't think so. He was happy no one was asking about his service, or where he had fought before his remuster, and promotion into the Rifles.

Kyle just sat there and paid no mind to anyone else. He mearly just kept looking down at his saber in thought. Happy that everyone changed the subject.

Next time, Blackwood resolved to be sure to limit Macgregor's access to wine. For now the Scotsman was simply a headache to be borne.

"Thank you," he said with a slight nod. "My man is a good hand at finding treasures like this."

Behind him, unseen to Blackwood, Hallet looked faintly smug, but only for an instant.

Perhaps the only guest to do so, Jenny glanced at the man and noticed his smug look, then hid a smile of her own. "Then perhaps you have found a treasure in him. A servant with taste is worth his weight in gold."

She had the sudden absurd temptation to speak to the batman himself, ask him how long he had served the captain and whether he had been in service before. But she was not yet ready to court disaster. While society might eventually forgive Woodmarsh for bringing a kept woman to dinner, they would be less likely to forgive her for engaging the servants in conversation at table. And yet, when would she ever get another such golden opportunity? To hell with it. It was only Woodmarsh.

"A very good choice, private. Perfectly suited to this stew with these mushrooms. I hope you'll be able to enjoy some yourself." Which he undoubtedly had already and would again later, emptying the glasses left on the table.

Hallet hid a smile at the praise, but relaxed from his stiff posture enough to incline his head. "Thank you, Miss," was all he said, though he was pleased by the recognition, however public. He was not about to admit that he had enjoyed his share of the stew while it had been cooking, or that he'd sampled the wine before bringing the decanter into the barn. No, that was not at all something he should confess!

Olivia raised an eyebrow, glancing from the private to Miss Ross. Then sighed. Well, really. There had already been so many social faux pas at this supper that she was rather at a loss. Part of her was tempted to let the awkward pause continue, but she was already feeling uncomfortable.

So, with an internal shrug, she smiled and raised her glass slightly. "Well, then, to a fine wine amidst the war."

Kyle just sat there for a bit and started to help himself to some food. After awhile he got a cub of wine. Kyle then watched as everyone went through the night eating and talking away. He loved nights like these when everyone could just forget about the war for a moment and just enjoy themselves. When the one woman he had yet to get the name of raised her glass up slightly for a toast Kyle joined in and raised his glass, and did nothing but smile kindly.

"Capital!" Macgregor wheezed, lifting his over-full glass jerkily. As might be expected, given his state of inebriation, the glass was not steady in his hand and the soft red wine slopped over the rim. It cascaded down onto his lap like a merry little waterfall.

Next to him, Cobb managed a very strained smile as he too lifted his glass. "To fine wine," he said, with no small note of irony in his voice. It was all he could do not to look at Macgregor, who was staring at his suddenly-empty glass with a mystified expression on his face.

Jenny smiled and sipped at her wine without further comment. She wished that everyone would hurry up and finish eating so this tedious dinner could be done with. Just how long was the meal going to last? She decided to hazard another speech to the batman. Why not, after all? At least then she might know how to pace her patience.

"What other delicious surprises have you in store for us, private?" She knew there would be dessert, for she had instructed that her wine was to be saved for then. But would there be many more courses in between?

Knox frowned as the Ross woman addressed the batman a second time. It was, of course, understandable that she should prefer to converse with one of her own social class, but this was hardly the place. He took another swallow of wine, resisting the impulse to drain the entire glass. It would not do to become drunk in the present company, he reflected with a sidelong glance at Macgregor. For all that it might make the circumstance more bearable.

"You mentioned Egypt, sir. How long have you been with the 27th?" he asked of the man sitting beside Macgregor. The lieutenant seemed to be enjoying himself almost as much as Knox.

It would not be wise to answer that question, Hallett thought. Giving away surprises never was. He simply allowed another flicker of a smirk to cross his face and kept his gaze fixed on a point across the barn.

"Coming close to ten years now," Cobb replied, shaking his head slightly. Had it really been that long? Hell. "Egypt was perhaps the most interesting place I have visited, however."

He helped himself to another mouthful of wine and asked, "What of yourself?"

“I am afraid I cannot boast of your experience, sir. I am comparatively late come to this conflict,” he hedged, hoping to God his face was not turning some undignified colour. Through force of will, he managed not to drop his gaze; however he could not keep a note of stiffness from his voice when he replied, “I have been with the regiment since shortly before the new year.”

Ah. Well. That was no crime, certainly. Every man had to begin somewhere, didn't he?

"Well," Cobb mused, "I daresay you will gain experience of your own shortly enough. Perhaps Mister Woodmarsh might be willing to share some of his hard-earned campaigning knowledge with you."

Hearing his name mentioned, Woodmarsh looked up. He grinned broadly upon hearing Cobb's comment, thrilled that someone was finally thinking enough of him to make such a recommendation.

"Oh of course. Anytime you would wish to have advice, my good man, I would be more than willing to offer some." He paused and took a bite of food, wondering if he might have been too hasty in making that offer. After all, he had not one jot of hard-earned campaigning knowledge to impart, though that was really just a tiny, insignificant detail that he usually did not have a problem overcoming. "But of course I would not wish to bore you with such tedious accounts of action. You'll be seeing enough action yourself soon, I would wager."

Knox suppressed a smirk – barely – and schooled his features into a neutral expression. He nodded to Woodmarsh, “You are too kind, sir. You suspect the French will turn and fight, then?”

If they do, Jenny thought, Woodmarsh will turn and run.

"They will be fools if they do. But then, we are discussing the French. I've yet to meet one Frenchman who was anything less than foolish," Woodmarsh said, with a chuckle.

"Quite," Cobb observed, his tone flat.

Next to him, Macgregor let out a gurgling laugh. "Right ye are, me lad. The whole pack of 'em don't know what they're about. We'll send 'em packin' easy enough, eh?"

The drunken fool was oblivious to the fact that the rest of the men were about to come to blows over the dinner table, Olivia noted sourly. Hardly a pleasant turn of conversation to be sure.

Raising her eyebrows, she said mildly, "Let us hope that is the case and all ends well soon."