Coimbra - Looking for Maggie Evans

Maggie had begun to hate the priest, truly hate him, which was surely some sort of blasphemy or sin. But he produced a letter and her eagerness overcame her distaste. Of course Gabe could not write a letter yet - he could just barely remember how to write their names - but perhaps he had asked a friend to write to her for him. She accepted the paper gratefully and was surprised to see that it was sealed. Surely he had not asked Captain Vickery of all people to be his scribe? But she broke the seal eagerly and read the letter's contents.


Dear Maggie,

We are very concerned by your absence and hope that every thing is all right with you. Please do not be concerned for rejoining the 60th, as I will do my utmost to help you in whatever way you require, as will Cotton, who is missing you keenly. If Joe Newbury is with you, he has my permission to remain with you until Saturday, after which he must leave you to rejoin us as soon as he can.

Please let me know if there is anything I can do to help you,

Capt. Vickery


Maggie blinked back startled tears, her head swimming, and she let the letter fall back onto her lap. She scrabbled suddenly at the side of the bed, leaning over towards the floor. Jenny, anticipating her need, held up the chamber pot and helped her to be sick in it. Maggie sank back as Sister Teresa fussed, holding a cool, damp cloth to her forehead and offering her a drink.

Jenny moved the letter out of the way, and Maggie nodded at her to read it. That was very kind of Captain Vickery, and good news for Newbury at least. Vickery had always seemed to be a fair and decent man.

"Should we go out and talk, and let her sleep?" Jenny asked Father O'Dwyer, appealing to him as an ally rather than an interrogator.

"If you wish," the Father said. "Although I would do what I could for everyone, my time is not my own. I must get back to the regiment tonight - there will be men - and women - coming to me for support there." He looked with concern at Maggie, and then turned to leave with the other woman.

"Father," Maggie called in a small voice, not able to remember his name. "I'm sorry, awful sorry." It was unclear what the apology was meant to cover, but she truly felt sorry for everything at that moment, everything in her whole life. "But don't - please don't tell everyone. Just Gabe. Rifleman Cotton. He's Captain Vickery's batman." And then it would be up to Cotton to tell whom he wished. They would all knew soon enough anyway. News like that always traveled fast.

Stupid stupid stupid. Newbury hurried up the stairs, fumbling to finish buttoning his trousers as he went. Trust him to think it safe enough to go outside to relieve himself just before somebody would come to see Miss Evans. Stupid!

He clattered to a halt, nearly dropping his rifle, just outside the door. It was closed but he could hear several voices inside. One of them was male, which would have warranted immediate interruption had not he heard Miss Evans herself speak. Not a bad meeting then, this one.

Newbury forced himself to breathe out and settled into a tense approximation of 'at ease'.

Jenny emerged through the doorway and looked mildly at Newbury. She assumed he had been there all along. Maggie was still talking to the priest, and Jenny sidled up next to the rifleman. "The priest brought Maggie a letter from Captain Vickery," she whispered. "He says you can stay in Coimbra until Saturday."

Despite himself, he twitched when Jenny Ross appeared from out of the room. He blinked at her when she mentioned Captain Vickery; the officer had sent a priest? It should've been Cotton...

"Wonderful," Newbury grunted, the rest of Jenny's words sinking in. Only until Saturday. What would the two women do after he left?

"Did the priest help any?" He asked.

Jenny frowned. She didn't think he had at all, but that was something for Maggie to decide. "I don't know. For heaven's sakes, Joe, do up your buttons before the sister sees."

Oh for... Newbury's face flushed hot and he almost dropped his rifle again in his haste to finish buttoning up his trousers. Stupid stupid...

"Erm..." was that really the best he could do?

Jenny took his rifle. "Here, give me that. Don't worry, I won't shoot you. And tuck in your shirt." Sensing with impatience that he was embarrassed, she turned her head to the door, waiting for the priest and the nun to come out.

His cheeks afire, Newbury quickly straightened his uniform up. Honestly! He felt clumsy and inept. This situation was completely beyond him.

"Thanks," he muttered, taking his rifle back.

She looked back at him complacently. "You do remember that I was with Scots Johnny for over a year," she said, as if that were the answer to some unasked question.

The door was still ajar. Maggie could be heard saying, "There's this stable yard behind the house, and I keep my donkey there." Jenny reached forward and quietly pulled it shut.


[Jenny and Joe continue here.]

In her little room, Maggie was writing a letter for Father O'Dwyer to take back to Cotton. She wrote with many stops and starts. She knew that he would need help reading it, but she wanted the words to be simple ones that he could sound out on his own, so he would know that the words he heard were truly the words she had written. "I can understand --" She struck out the words and began again. "I know you might --" and then, after thinking a moment, substituted the word maybe. But after a sigh, she turned the paper around and started again.

"Sorry," she said quietly to the priest who was waiting. She ventured an apologetic smile, small and watery beneath red eyes, but a smile nonetheless. "He doesn't read too good."

"No," the priest said, sitting quietly in a chair. "You were teaching him. But ... if he wants it kept from his friends, or even from the officer, I will be able to read it for him. I think it is best though that you write - as fully as you can. Even if you cannot offer him reassurance."

He looked at her and returned the smile, faintly. "Do not give him hope that you will return, unless you are sure that you will. You must make up your own mind on that. Will you mind if I am telling him this address, in case he wishes to write back - or have someone write for him?"

Her heart sank a little at the mention of returning. That was not what she was planning at all. Would he even want her back now? Surely not, not when he found out. That was the part she had been hiding from - the cold, disgusted rejection. But if he wanted to write to her... "Yes, oh yes, he can write to me! If he wants to." She looked doubtful about the latter. But it was something she had not thought of before, the possibility of him writing to her, and she was grateful to the priest for at least offering her that hope. And if he didn't write to her...

"Father, how - what if - how does a woman become a nun?"

"Do you wish to become a nun? First, I suppose, you must convert to the Roman Catholic faith ... I should like to say that you should have a calling from God to choose that life, but that is not always the case. Women do enter a convent for other reasons - but you would need to convince the Mother Superior that you wish to commit yourself to the service of Christ." He tempered his frown with a smile. "But you should not make any decision on that until you are recovered."

Maggie nodded, looking a little embarrassed, and leaned over to finish her letter. It was certainly the most difficult letter she had ever written, and she had no precedent as a model, even among letters she had composed for other people. "There," she said, handing it to him when it was done. "Thank you for taking it. If he asks you questions, go ahead and tell him what I told you. About what happened."

"I will do so - as I am certain he will ask." Father O'Dwyer tucked the note into his missal, and looked at her. "You blame yourself - or all men. The truth is that neither of those is right. You are sure that you cannot name the man?"

She flinched. She had thought of this, of course, but the options frightened her. She knew him - of course she knew that devil. But it would he her word against his, and he would certainly cast up her history with Balstrode to claim that she had sold her virginity long ago... The man was guiltless of crime if the woman was a whore. Or no, more likely he would just deny it, say she was mistaken or lying. And she would still be a whore, and Cotton would be angry and would do something wild and get himself flogged again, or worse, while that devil laughed and came through clean as pipeclay.

"It were a sergeant," she blurted. "I seen his stripes."

Father O'Dwyer remembered the Captain's words: Though, as you can imagine, he is worrying himself sick, the more so as there is a sergeant in another regiment who has taken against him and will not hesitate to harm another if it will hurt him.

"A sergeant - but not a Rifleman? That is something, and perhaps those whose duties took them to the stables that night will have seen a Sergeant. That will be a thing for Captain Vickery to discover, if he wishes. And I think he might. It will not help convict him, if you cannot truly identify him, but it may ..." The Father raised one shoulder. He knew as well as Miss Evans the difficulties of getting a conviction for criminal assaults of that kind, particularly without witnesses.

"I will leave you with the good sisters, Miss Evans, and take this back to your Rifleman as soon as possible. I will tell him everything you have told me, including where to find you. When you do decide what to do - you may write to me, if you like - Father O'Dwyer, care of the 5th of Foot."

She released her breath with a sigh. He wasn't going to pressure her into saying the name. But Captain Vickery... "Please don't tell Rifleman Cotton. That it was a sergeant, I mean. You can tell Captain Vickery, and he can tell Gabe if he thinks it's right, but that sergeant means trouble, especially for Gabe." She bit her lip, realizing her mistake too late. "I mean, if a rifleman, like a private soldier, were to go after a sergeant..." She didn't bother to finish.

"It would be the worse for him," Father O'Dwyer finished the thought for her. "Soldiers have been hanged for less. I shall tell Captain Vickery, as you suggest. I must advise him first, I think, since I came with his blessing, not that of your young man. But I will speak to Gabe Cotton, and give him your note. Now - if I am to be back with the Second Division before nightfall, and without exhausting my Patience, I must leave. Think hard about what you want to do, Miss Evans."

She nodded meekly. "Thank you, sir. I mean Father. And be sure and tell Gabe that I never wanted to... to go with that man. I never wanted to, and I'm sorry." She watched him prepare to leave. "And! don't tell him too much about..." She looked at the bruises and scrapes on her arms. "All this, and how I looked and all."

"It will be hard to steer between those two, for those injuries show just how much you did not want to go with him. But I will do my best, and tell him that you were well, and receiving kindness from the sisters."

That was fair enough. He would know how to say the right thing. "Thank you," she said again, giving him a faint smile. And as an afterthought, she added "I'll tell Joe about the letter. That Captain Vickery said he could stay till Saturday."