Catching the Column

"Listen, Joe," Jenny said, lowering her voice in spite of there being nobody nearby to eavesdrop. "I told you in Coimbra what had happened to Maggie, and who had done it... Don't tell Cotton. About any of it. Let Maggie be the one to decide what she tells him."

"But..." Newbury bit his tongue. Jenny was right. "Got it."

He wondered just how much Miss Evans would end up telling Cotton. Poor lad. It didn't feel right to keep such a heavy secret, but it wouldn't do any good for the truth to come from him.

Newbury yawned, having failed to anticipate such an expression of weariness in time to stop it. "Sorry. Been a long day."

She laughed beside him and leaned on his shoulder. "That's all right, dear. Go to sleep, and as soon as Cotton comes back, you can come with me to my other sleeping place. I'm only keeping Maggie company for a little bit while he's off to find Captain Hunter, that officer with the horse, but there's room for you in Newcombe's cart where I've been." She yawned herself. "Thank God, I am glad we're home."

Newbury hardly needed to be told twice. His eyes were already closed when she leaned against him and he grinned slightly. It certainly was good to be home. Hopefully Cotton wouldn't be away too long... the thought trailed off into insignificance as his brain eased itself into slumber.

Cotton felt very nervous indeed about heading towards the Staff officers. Dealing with any officer other than his own Captain and the two Lieutenants was nerve-wracking enough, but to deliberately go looking for the Staff... What if General Wellesley were there?

Well, the General had spoken to him once already, back after he'd tried Colonel Edrington's peculiar air rifle, and he'd survived that encounter. And all he was doing was returning Captain Hunter's cloak to him. He couldn't get reprimanded for that, could he?

And there they were. His steps slowed right down and he nearly talked himself out of it, reasoning that he could do it just as easily in the morning. Though Captain Hunter would probably want his cloak tonight, and he didn't think he could face returning to Maggie and telling her he'd chickened out.

He steeled himself and approached the nearest officer.

"'Scuse me, sir," he said, saluting smartly. "Could you tell me where I can find Captain Hunter, please, sir?"

The officer gave him an amused glance before replying, "Over there. Just look for the man with glowing red eyes," causing his neighbors to laugh. A young lieutenant took pity on the rifleman, the hapless victim of their sport, and showed him where the captain was riding on his black mare.

George was riding with the Staff group, his gaze falling upon Brandon, who was riding close to Wellesley, every now and then.

Officers and their jokes...! Cotton thanked the Lieutenant politely and jogged forward a little until he was beside the black horse. He saluted its rider a little nervously. "Captain Hunter, sir? I've brung your cloak back, sir."

George looked down on Cotton, frowning a little, trying to place the rifleman.
'Ah, thank you. How is Miss Evans feeling, if you don't mind my asking?'

"Better, I think, sir, thanks for askin'. An' she says thanks for the loan of your cloak, too, sir." He held it up to the officer. "An' I'd like to say thanks for lookin' after her an' bringin' her up to us, as well, sir."

George took the cloak out of the man's hands and put it across his saddle.
'It was my pleasure, Rifleman Cotton. It is Cotton, isn't it? I am glad she is in good hands now. I hope her friends, Miss Ross and Rifleman Newbury, are fine?'

"Aye, sir, it's Cotton." How... strange, of a Staff officer to remember his name. Strange, and maybe even a little worrying, because of the strangeness. "An' they'm all right as well, sir, thanks for askin'.

George nodded.
'Good. Good. Well, I won't keep you any longer, no doubt you've no wish to be here.'

"Yes, sir. I mean, no sir. I mean..." He trailed off, colouring furiously. Thank God it was dark! "Thanks again, sir," he managed instead, saluting.

Suddenly giving a smile to the Rifleman, Hunter dismissed him, before the rest of the Staff group started to take notice of the man and made him even more uncomfortable.

Cotton received the dismissal with some relief, turning to jog back the way he'd come to return to Maggie. He'd stay with her tonight, and return to the Company when the Division finally halted at wherever they were heading for.

Jenny awoke when Cotton returned to the wagon, but Maggie and Newbury slept on. She smiled and indicated Joe with a nod of her head. "His wound opened up again," she whispered. "He's going to stay in the baggage for the night. I'll take him back to the wagon where I was riding before, but do you know where his pack would be? In Coimbra he said he'd left it behind with you lot."

Cotton nodded. "They lads've bin takin' it in turns to carry it. Roper's prob'ly the best one to ask about it." He sighed a little. "You was with Maggie, at least afterwards. Do you know what happened? Only, I know she was attacked by someone, a soldier, but I don't know much more about it than that." And he suspected that she had been raped, and those suspicions had only grown stronger since she'd caught up with them.

She looked at him guardedly. "What did she tell you?"

"Not much. She was attacked by a soldier, who made her... made her do summat she didn't want, she said, though I reckon I know what that meant, well enough. And she tried to stop him. Only, she's so little I know she couldn't've, 'specially not if it was who I think it was." He still felt wretched that it had all happened not yards from where he'd been asleep. "I should've been there, Jenny."

Jenny sighed sympathetically. "You couldn't have known. Neither could she. She was only going out to the privy for a minute. But yes. You're imagining it right." She paused. She knew that Maggie wanted him to know what had happened, and she had told him in her letter with the best language she could muster. But it was probably best to spell it out and leave him in no doubt. "He... violated her. Tore up her chemise, and hurt her, beat her." She herself had told Newbury not to tell Cotton anything that Maggie herself did not want to confide, and yet - Jenny understood in a way that Newbury could not. "And choked her. It made her eyes turn bloody in spots. You'll see it in the morning, and her bruises. Try not to seem too shocked."

"I woke up, sort of, when she went. If... if I'd've known...!" He recognised all too well the helpless feelings he was experiencing. "It's like when Jem Balstrode got it," he said. "If we'd seen that Frog, if we'd been quicker. 'If'... it's such a small thing to say. But if things had been that little bit different, Maggie wouldn't... I love her, Jenny. And I said I'd keep her safe - and I didn't. I don't know how she could bear to come back to me, knowin' that."

"I know. My Scots Johnny too, remember?" Jenny eased herself away from the sleeping Newbury and climbed out of the cart to walk beside Cotton. This was more than a word over the shoulder. They walked on beside the cart in silence for a few moments before she spoke again. "Maggie loves you too. She cried. For you, because she thought this would be the end of it all. She doesn't blame you - how could she? - any more than she ought to blame herself. Some people do always blame the woman though, say that she shouldn't have been out at ungodly hours, or assume it was purposeful and only pretended unwillingness."

She spoke with bitterness as if daring anyone to say such a thing, and she would gladly gouge their eyes out for them. She had the sudden absurd notion that she would find Sergeant Hakeswill and kill him, for Hakeswill it was who had done it. Maggie would forbid Cotton from doing anything so rash; it was part of the reason why she had not given him a name. But Jenny felt reckless of her own safety, furious with hatred. But almost as soon as it had flared up, it died away again. She was exhausted.

"I'd like to kill the man who did it," was all she said, weariness in her voice.

"I would, an' all. Reckon I know who it was, too," Cotton said. "And, Jenny, I don't blame her. Honest I don't. She's a good woman and I can't go blamin' her for somethin' that she never wanted and couldn't stop, can I?"

"No. And you're a good man, too." She twisted her fingers around the fringe on her shawl. "I should have come to find you. I'm sorry. I wasn't... Neither of us was thinking straight."