In Oporto

So he did remember! She smiled slightly with relief. "Yes. You were getting ready to leave when I - when your friend tripped on my chair with his crutch." It had been an embarrassing incident, but at least it had been memorable.

Padstowe went very quiet. So this was Cotton's woman? Up until that poinbt he had been unaware that Cotton had a woman - last time he'd seen him in Lisbon he had seemed completely unattached - but somehow it did make sense; even though he wasn't exactly sure why it did yet.

"I have never believed, madam, for a moment that Gabriel Cotton was ever responsible for my misfortune," He said flatly. "I know who was, and I can assure you he is a very different creature to Cotton."

Relief melted across her face visibly. And after basking in it for a moment, she decided to speak further, glancing again at Lieutenant Sharpe first. "There was never any proof of it, so nobody could say anything, but Gabe and I think he was set up by a sergeant in the 33rd foot."

Sharpe nodded, glancing at Padstowe. "We reckon we know who, an' all," he said. "It'll work out all right. For you an' Cotton, both. I didn't think Cotton was the sort to do that sort of thing, even if he had the opportunity that night. And Captain Padstowe, here, don't think it were him, either. So, don't go worryin' about it."

"Do you think it's the same man? Because if it is..."

Sharpe glanced at Padstowe, whose expression was unreadable. "Aye, I do, lass, though there's no proof of it."

She took a deep breath and spoke very quietly. "Then it's the same man that did for me too."

Ah. That was interesting... very interesting. "Does Cotton know? Or do you reckon he might know?"

Maggie nodded, turning red again but relieved to have finally gotten it out. "Yes. I didn't want to tell him because I was scared he would do something wild and dangerous and get in trouble - for going after him, I mean. I didn't mean to tell him but it just slipped out."

"Do you know for certain it was Hakeswill?" Padstowe asked suddenly. "Did you see his face? Hear his voice?"

Maggie looked at the captain for a moment before nodding.

"Then that, if anything in this wretched mess can be called such a thing, is a mercy. God damned the fiend, but we'll have him before a firing squad."

She moved back a step, alarmed at the determined fierce expression in his face. "You won't make me say anything..."

"I doubt were you to do so any tribunal would be doomed to failure," Padstowe said, softening his expression a fraction as she drew and her companion drew back in fear. "But I have proof, and it means that I shall not regret any further action that I might take."

She looked at him uneasily. "What do you mean? Sir."

"It means, madam," Padstowe said, choosing his words carefully. "That Lieutenant Sharpe and I are conducting our own investigations into the illicit activities of Sergeant Hakeswill, and that when it comes to securing his prosecution we shall not lack in enthusiasm."

Oh. Maggie realized for the first time that she had not even mentioned the name Hakeswill, and yet both of the men had known exactly who she meant.

"Just please don't go mentioning me to anyone, sir." She found herself fiddling with the ring on her finger, and she quickly put her hands down. Her breathing had become heavy, belabored. It had been dark and she had been outside alone. And the man had thrown a coin at her afterwards. She knew how it would look. It would be her word against his. "I'm not married..."

Martha was taking her elbow, gently guiding her to a low wooden stool by the fire. "Sit down, Maggie."

"Pardon me for speakin' me mind, Miss," Sharpe said, "but rape's rape. It don't matter whether you're married or not. An' I can't think that you'd be likely to... to go sellin' your favours if you're walkin' out with Cotton. And I know you had a stall in the market at Lisbon, and I've seen you around sellin' supplies and things. You're about as respectable as any woman with the army, and a good deal more respectable than some married women I've known."

He sighed, feeling a little out of his depth now, and not knowing what else he could say to reassure her.

Martha frowned up at him from where she was kneeling at Maggie's side. Men could be such fools at times, with absolutely no understanding of women. Could he not see that he was making it worse? She muttered some soothing words and rocked her. "It was only a few days ago," she explained to the two men. "The last night in Coimbra. I just need to get her to her man, and me to mine, and we'll be all right. Come on, Maggie. We'll go and find your Gable, eh?"

Sharpe had the grace to blush. "Would you... would you like me to walk you to your billets?" he asked, hoping Padstowe would forgive him for embarrassing everyone. The Captain probably wanted him out of the house double-quick... He always did end up putting his foot in it, trying to be polite.

Maggie herself now had the grace to accept, nodding wordlessly.

"Thank you, Mister Sharpe," Martha answered, gathering their things. "And thank you, captain. Sorry to bother you."

Maggie, crying, was too ashamed to look back at Padstowe, having now made a spectacle of herself.

"I'm sorry about all this, Jonathan," Sharpe said, looking across at his friend. He'd had no idea things would take this turn when he opened the door earlier.

He picked up his shako and rifle and opened the door. "I'll come back and see how you are tomorrow, Jonathan," he said. "Ladies..."

"Yes, I will see you," Padstowe replied, nodding and giving a half-smile to Sharpe. He himself was amazed at the turn things had taken this evening. He stood as the two women stood to be shepherded out of the door by Sharpe.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to be the cause of any distress; but I thank you, madam, for confiding in me."

Maggie looked back and nodded without meeting his eyes before she escaped out the door.

Sharpe nodded to Padstowe. "I'll come and see you tomorrow, unless you reckon you're goin' to be busy," he said, and turned to follow Miss Evans and her friend out.