28th June, The missing dinner plate

Edward was just about to reply that tea would indeed be welcome, when movement at the periphery of his vision made him turn his head. Not recognizing the officer, though his beard made him rather memorable, he directed Vickery's attention towards the newcomer.

"A new face, Vickery. I think he might be looking for you ... Sir, over here!"

He stepped back to give the officer a clear view of Vickery, inwardly delighted when Freddie immideatly got ready to hold the horse.

"Ja, I am looking for ze commander....Captain" started von Dornheim as he looked at his orders, his eyes frantically scanning.  Giving up on finding it "ze captain of ze rifles".  von Dornheim appraised the man before him.  He searched the man's green eyes and after a moment decided that he saw no malice.  "I am von Dornheim" he started adding a small and quick bow of the head, "Baron von Dornheim.  Leutnant now of ze 60th" he said, extending a hand and putting the cigar back in his mouth.

Pye straightened, taking in the new arrival, studying him head to toe and the meticulously cared for mustache. He had an odd accent, but one that Pye was not unused to. Serving among the 60th rifles allowed for that and then there were also men from other regiments, which while more commonly speaking English, could steal account for their roots. The Spanish and Portuguese were not even the subject in this equation.

He blinked. A new lieutenant of the 60th meant a new commanding officer! He opened his mouth to supply a helpful: ' Looking for Captain Vickery, sir?' Only to bite down on that urge and remain quiet. One shall not answer if not directly questioned, especially when an officer was on the delivering end!

Freddie, on his best behaviour and therefore trying very hard to speak proper English, stand straight and in general appear angelic, inquired softly:

"Should I take your horse, Herr Leutnant, Sir?"

"Captain Torrington, Royal Engineers. Allow me to make you known to Captain Vickery, who commands this company."

As often in the company of strangers, all levity was gone and Edward presented a rather cool, slightly haughty facade. His eyes caught Pye's for a moment, however, with such a clear plea for his tea, that they much more resemebled those of a young boy then of a dignified man.

Pye looked questionably back at the officer. What was he pleading for? He glanced at his friend who was offering to hold the horse, then back at Torrington, then slowly at Vickery and then at the new arrival. It clicked at final last. Freddie was held up , quite possibly, for an unknown length of time, but certainly for as long as these men would converse with one another, Vickery was part of the fellowship and the wanted man and he? He, Zachary Pye, rifleman, was without an obligation and thus free to venture about. While the search for a missing plate was stalled for the moment there was a certain other necessity which Freddie had fretted over earlier. Food, was Pye's first thought, but he could not see himself prepare a decent meal, nor know where he could take things from. While food was essential to anyone's survival and wellbeing there was another option. Tea!

His gaze cleared, the expression brightening. He could get the water heated easily and he could then hasten to make cups or mugs of tea. There was one for Torrington, certainly, possibly one for Vickery, and the new arrival? He gazed at Vickery questionably for a few moments. Oh, it did not matter, really. He could heat more water than needed and he knew where tea could be found thanks to Freddie's instructions!

"Sir, goin' ter get yers tea." He hesitated. "Yers all?" He was asking Torrington now. If he received a blessing to either use his china, or some of the less refined mugs on offer, he would! The second option was to bring more mugs from the rifles' camp as he had before. He was already making sure whether the fire was going yet there or whether he could borrow a bit of fire from their own camp.

Torrington, preoccupied with the new arrival, only nodded slightly, his attention on von Dornheim. He didn't realize that he was actually giving instructions to somebody he had no real business ordering around - somehow Pye had sneaked into his household, as it was, and figured unconsciously as a kind of apprentice to Freddie - though Edward would be mortified if anybody ever pointed out to him this instinctive assumption.

"The pleasure is mine gentlemen" said von Dornheim in his best English. He paused  and turned his attention to his horse to pull a cigar and papers from the saddle case, handing the cigar to the enlisted man and giving him the reigns.  "If you would water my horse and find him some feed, please" said von Dornheim coldly, hoping the cigar would be thanks enough.  He appraised the man, noting what he could about him before turning his attention back to the two officers.  He would have time to meet the men shortly.  "I am sorry if I interrupt anything.  I wish to give my orders and dispatches I was given in Lisbon" he said, offering the packet of papers.  "I vas told by ze major who gave them to me that they ver most uninteresting notes, ja?" finished von Dornheim with a slight smirk. "I am most afraid that my" began the Baron, trailing off and searching for the word "my property and tent are hour down the road, ja?  Small wagon bringing supplies and mail" he said, wondering if his last bottle of scotch had survived the trip. "Perhaps another night we may all di....dine? Dine together, yes?"

Freddie took the horse's reins and the cigar, though he eyed the last warily. Was he supposed to care for that as well? But how? He didn't smoke and hadn't the slightest idea what to do, but some vague notion that cigars needed some special attention. He hoped Pye had any clue. So he balanced the cigar carefully in his hand as he led to horse away.

He never suspected that it was meant for him as a thank-you.

Edwards brows rose slightly at that description of official orders and the smirk. In a cool voice, he inquired:

"Would the communications you brought include a package for me? I am expecting some information and maps."

He did not comment on the dinner invitation as he prefered not to accept such an invitation from a junior officer on such short aquintance, even though the man appeared to be older than himself.

"I am unsure" said von Dornheim, his face contorting slightly as he untied the twine wrapping a bulk of letters and packets. He brought some close to his face, clearly attempting to decipher some dubious handwriting. "Ja, I sink so" he said finally, offering the moderately sized packet to Torrington. "I had not looked through them you see" said von Dornheim.

Edward glanced at the direction to ensure that it was really the addressed to him, then took the packet with a a nod of the head and a polite but curt "Thank you!".

Curious about the contents and finding himself rather de trop for the conversation with Vickery the new officer was likely to have, he then stepped back. Turning towards his tent, he carefully opened the envelop and began to look through the contents.

Vickery nodded at the introduction, though he could not help but raise an eyebrow at the Lieutenant's singular approach to his uniform.

"Tea should be forthcoming shortly," he said, noticing Pye heading off, hopefully to prepare some of that beverage. "I hope that your journey from Lisbon was not too arduous?" he added, noticing Torrington's withdrawal.

He would just have to try to talk with the Engineer later that afternoon; it seemed that Company business called and that could not be deferred.

"It vas most uneventful. I rode with a small column of maybe perhaps sixty? The column split about 10 leagues from here. Mostly provosts, members of ze wagon train, and civilians" said the Baron in his heavy German accent. "Lisboa" he began, using the Portuguese name "is quite anxious about this army."

He threw the cigar away, partially bored with it, partially not enjoying the Iberian heat of summer. He changed topics "Captain, I wish to tell you zat I am in your service. As Baron of Dornheim, I am a gentleman. As a Hessian, I am a soldier. I sink it is fair to begin openly. My allegiance is to fighting Bonaparte. While I have nothzing but respect for his Majesty the King, I am bound to freeing my land of French Imperial rule" concluded von Dornheim, spitting on the ground at the mention of Bonaparte as an insult. "I have been in battle, ja? Not against ze French but I served as a guest of the court of the Grandmaster of Malta against the Barbary before the Maltese fall to Bonaparte" said the Baron, hoping to lessen the doubt over a new officer.

Pye managed to locate a fire after he had filled the small kettle with water from the river. He had been more careful at this time so the collection of the liquid ended up rather uneventful. With a full kettle, or full enough that the water sploshed over rim if he swung it a bit too roughly, he ran to get the water boiled.

The fire, conveniently half way towards his destination, was that or the 60th rifles. He waited impatiently for water to begin bubbling at the surface and then yet again reached for the kettle.

In quick steps, as the boiling water was now much less safe to run with, he hurried back. He needed to get the cups and he tried to recall where they were while he was still lumbering back to the three officers. The full kettle was much heavier than before, when it was empty and the angle at which he had to carry it, not to burn himself, added to the problem.

Still, with some lost breath, he disappeared past the men, kettle still in hand and ducked into Torrington's tent. There he put the heavy load down and turned. It took him a little longer to locate the cups, though the tray was inconveniently still not there.

He prepared the tea, thankful yet again that he had been shown by Freddie, where tea was stored as well as sugar and he had observed the cutlery too. He hesitated at first whether he could rummage through the officer's belongings, but reminded himself that he was expected to produce tea and this meant that he was expected also and allowed, to use whatever necessary, to do so.

He dipped his finger carefully in the white crystals, brought it to his lips and tasted it. It was most certainly sugar and.. so good! He took the cups and set them on the small table, each with its own little plate. Those little plates he had seen officers use often, so they had to have a function other than looking dainty!

With the tea finally prepared and poured into three cups carefully, so that nothing spilled and that nothing broke as well he looked at sugar again. How much was he to add? He hesitated between just pouring in a good deal to not giving it even half a spoon.

He would have loved tea that was sugary sweet but he reckoned that this would deplete supplies rather quickly and this was quite the commodity. Instead of conducting an experiment on how much he lay a tiny spoon beside each cup then glanced at the little table. Placing all that he had just prepared on the chair beside it he hoisted the little table up and carried it hastly outside. He really hoped that Torrington would not mind or notice but he needed a tray and the tray was gone!

Upon returning again into the tent, two cups were first taken and when one slid precariously to one side, he quickly set it down and instead of two at a time, he carried a single cup of tea, on a plate and with a tiny spoon to the table outside.

Sugar would come next, as per choice!

When Pye reappeared with the table, Edward stepped aside to give him room to set it up without taking his nose out of his papers, mutering a distracted:

"Ah, tea, thank you!"

He had gotten some new orders and was trying to make sense of them, and would likely have drunken a pot of ink at the moment if Pye had handed him one.

Pye left and returned several times, and each time there was a nice cup of tea, the water hot enough that there was still a soft white trail rising above the cup. He had come the last time only to make sure that indeed all had been brought and then stepped to the side curiously studying the new arrival. He would be their new officer too so it was best to see what he was like without the need to be directly addressed by him. If he was one of those mean officers he could stay out of his way as much as possible unless duty demanded otherwise of course.

von Dornheim had excused himself after introductions, explaining he needed to change clothing. The long trip in his nicer of the two uniforms had taken its toll on the uniform and him. His tent was only half erected by two privates he had yet to formally meet but it would have to do. It was not a large tent by some standards of officers but it could accommodate perhaps three people sitting tightly in the center. His wooden chest had several gouges from the trip where it had banged around in whatever infernal cart it came in. He frowned as he opened it. On top was a portrait of his departed wife. It had been 5 years since his wife Ann died; from what he never knew other than a long sickness. His thoughts drifted to his remaining family. He wondered what his brothers could be doing. His younger brother Heinrich had supported revolution in France since the news hit Dornheim. Just before the von Dorheims as a whole had left Dornheim, he had left home and wrote from Paris- proudly announcing that he had joined French service. Paul shook his head. The shame of the split family. However his youngest brother, August, had also joined English service and was now serving in the Royal Navy as a Midshipman. His sister Kara was safe in Malta, planning to make passage to Copenhagen to join their Mother who had gone to look over the family's only remaining assets. He sighed and decided to write his mother when he could.

von Dornheim pushed his chess set out of the way and it made a 'clink; as it connected with the last of his scotch whisky. Finally, he moved a set of candles and pulled a clean shirt from the chest. He folded his uniform nicely and put it to the side. His daily uniform was wrinkled but otherwise nicely tailored. The buttons were clearly cheap, the only area he had skimped on. He sighed again, putting the tunic on, it fit well. The tunic was largely a match for other officers from a distance but a closer inspection noted a small amount of sky blue piping at the cuff. He pulled the medal he received from the Grandmaster of Malta from the nicer uniform, pinning it to his left breast. Pulling on his trousers, he glanced down at his sword and decided to leave it. He cursed in German quietly as he closed the chest, remembering that he had forgotten to buy books in Lisbon. von Dornheim looked at the closed chest before opening it again to take a drink of the whisky.

Only a few minutes had passed. He had taken a longer route around the encampment, enjoying the fact he was somewhat ignored. He appraised some of the men, raising an eyebrow at one of the sergeants who was refraining from yelling at a young rifleman and instead giving him some minor instruction. He made a mental note and continued, finding Captain Torrington's tent. He approached and heard a voice. He was unsure exactly where Vickery's tent was as he had not exactly paid attention to where he was going when he went to find where his belongings had ended up. He pulled his shako from his head and watched the private he had seen before head into the tent. von Dornheim half entered the tent and then quickly took a large stride through the opening and stood at rigid attention, giving a quick and very very shallow bow of the head before relaxing. "Captain, I apologize for offering of the dinner. I was weary of travel, ja? I realize that this may not be ze custom" concluded von Dornheim who had until now largely ignored the rifleman. "I do not mean to interrupt you either" said von Dornheim warmly, wondering if he had interrupted a formal report or request. "Captain, I merely aim to be of the healthiest of service. I am eager, ja?". von Dornheim abruptly became serious again. "If there is anything I may do, I am at your service" he concluded, bowing his head a bit more.

The engineer accepted the apology with a slight bow, and quickly tucked the papers he had been reading away.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Don't think twice about it. Will you sit and join us for a cup of tea?"

Torrington made an inviting gesture towards the table Pye had so dilligently set up in front of the tent.

"I do hope the travel from Lisboa was as smooth as these things can be? I hope you don't mind me asking if you by any chance spotted somebody carry a large silver platter?"

After all, the thieves had to get away from the camp, and the thing was pretty hard to conceal.

"I think not" said von Dornheim, an eyebrow again raising. "The trip was most boring but no silver" he concluded, accepting the tea. He did not have the heart to mention that he preferred coffee. He looked down at the glass and suddenly perked up. "I did see some clothing. One of the red tunics, ja? It was just outside the camp. I talked about it with one of the......." he trailed off, trying to think of the word. "Provost. That is it. He seemed uninterested. A washer woman picked it up" said von Dornheim, fighting his German accent. He sipped the tea but he sensed some further anticipation. He lowered the tea cup and ran a finger over his chin in thought. "It had blue..." he again stopped to think of the word. Instead he gestured for facings merely stating "sections. Forgive me, my English is not yet accustomed to the clothing of this army". He drank some more tea, wishing it was a glass of Bordeaux. "It could not have been a quarter of mile down the road" said von Dornheim, gesturing before downing the remainder of the tea.

Torrington visibly perked up.

"Blue facings? Thank you, Baron - that might be a further clue! Vickery, if you don't object, I'll send Pye to try to locate the woman and get the coat. It might tell us something about the man who wore it."

A moment later, Freddie reappeared from the area the horses were kept, still carefully holding the cigar, which he had wrapped in a piece of cloth for better protection.

He wasn't quite sure in which language to address the new, obviously German officer - English, which Freddie himself was speaking only barely, but which was probably the proper way to address an officer in an English regiment, or German, which would be simpler for both of them, but might be seen as disrespectful. Finally he decided on German nevertheless. Torrington had told him that the comfort of the guest was of paramount importance, Vickery spoke the language fluently, too, and Torrington understood it well enough by now not to feel left out. And at least in German Freddie had some idea how to properly address a baron - or at least more than in English. Was a baron a 'Mylord' as well?

Respectfully, he saluted.

"Herr Baron, Ihr Pferd ist versorgt und gefüttert!"

He was only telling the other that his horse had been taken care of and fed, but he did it with as much ceremony as if he was announcing the birth of an heir to the throne - and with much the same quivering excitement in his voice.

Pye was waiting to receive new orders. The tea had been prepared on the table and thus each of the officers could enjoy it. He had made sure there was sugar there too and enough little spoons to help stir. He had seen Freddie bring them often enough to know they were really necessary.

Glancing at his friend he grinned. He did not understand what he had said, but it was so grand it must have been important. Could they now return to finding the plate?

von Dornheim grinned and thanked the man in English. He asked in German where he was from and nodded, deeply considering the answer. He smiled briefly before taking more tea. The other officers seemed to be deep in quiet thought there was no conversation. He frowned and sipped at his tea. Turning to the enlisted men, von Dornheim quietly asked them to leave. "We must have privacy a moment" he said in a cold tone. "I must be allowed to converse with these two gentlemen in private. If it is alright with them, I think you two should find some tea or coffee for yourselves, ja?" said von Dornheim, hoping Vickery would grant some distance from enlisted ears.

Freddie looked rather panicked at the sudden cold dismissal, immediately fearing he had done something wrong in answering. He was also not sure what to do, since it had been a kind of an order by an officer, if he had understood correctly, but his captain was here, too, and hadn't exactly told them that the lieutenant belongt to them now, so he was not sure whether he should follow the lieutenant's orders without Vickery agreeing, and Mylord was there and this was his tent and he might want more tea ...

So he hovered for a moment, half poised to flee, and turned big, confused eyes to Vickery.