Two days later a messenger in buff livery rode up to deliver several missives from London.
Their ship, the Artemis, was to sail on the evening tide nine days hence.
John did not know what to say to Colly. He had received two letters—one from the commission agent in London and the other from QMG Gordon on behalf of General Hope. With regret, Gordon had released John from his exploring officer duties. He wished John well and opined that Arthur Wellesley would likely oversee the exploring officers in future.
The commission agent requested John’s attendance in London to sign for the sale of his commission. He held a draft for £2,600.00 in John’s name.
John swallowed hard. “I-I’m afraid I shall not be coming with you, Colly.” Never had he thought that such joyous news would bring such sorrow. For the past three weeks he had prayed that he would sell out before the call came to return to the Peninsula. Now he did not know how he felt. Tomorrow or the next day he would wave his best friend off to the carnage and tumult that was war.
“You’ve done it, John! You’ve sold out! Here, let me see.” John was not quick enough to evade Colly as he lunged to grab Gordon’s letter. Laughing, the two of them sparred until Colly managed to sneak a glance. “Gordon sends a lot more than his formal regrets, Trewbridge. He is very complimentary about your abilities.”
John shrugged. “He was always pleasant and efficient. It means I can leave without any qualms. Selling out is fine, but leaving Gordon in the lurch is another thing entirely.” He turned to Mac who was hovering at his elbow. “What is it, Mac?”
“Sir—” Mac hesitated.
“Spit it out, Mac. Captain Hetherington and I have no secrets from each other.”
“I was wondering, sir, if you’ll still be needing me now you’ve sold out.”
John blinked. “Of course I’ll need you, Mac. Do you not wish to come to Corrigan’s with me?”
“Yessir,” Mac responded smartly. “I completed my fourteen years last December. So that’s all right and tight.”
“I have to go to London, so I’ll accompany Captain Hetherington as far as Winchester. You’d best stay here when we ride out,” John said. “Next thing you know, they’ll have you rejoining.”
Mac grinned. “Not bl—not likely, my lord.”
“Winchester is miles and miles out of your way!” Colly protested.
John shrugged. “You’d do the same for me.”
Colly nodded. “Do you have time to show me your estate?”
“Of course. Even had you not wanted it, I intended to drag you there kicking and screaming.”
“That’s what I like. A fellow who has had some good fortune and wishes to rub the noses of his friends in it.”
And when he saw the elegant stone manor crouching under a lowering sky, Colly drew in his breath. “You, John Trewbridge, are without doubt the luckiest man in England.”
“It is lovely, isn’t it? And the farmland is generally in good order, although there is plenty of work to be done.”
“Right up your alley then, m’boy.” There was a pause, then Colly added, “And it’s so quiet here.”
John drew in a deep breath, tightening his hands on the reins. Had Colly known about his stupid affliction all along?
As they got nearer to the home field, they spied a lone female figure leaning against a gatepost, communing with nature.
“And who is the young lady waiting for you?”
“That is Miss Marguerite Ninian. Dash it all, the woman uses my place as if it were her own. I wonder if Mama has interviewed her yet.”
Colly twisted in the saddle to get a closer look. “Er—the young lady appears to be talking to some sheep.”
John grinned. “Her favourite occupation. She has an affinity with sheep.”
Indeed, when the men drew level with Marguerite, they found her hanging over the fence conversing with a couple of motherless lambs.
John doffed his hat, but Marguerite had not heard them arrive and was saying, “Now look here. It’s no use baa-ing like that because you won’t get any milk until we put you back in the barn. You need to get out in the fresh air and have a look at the grass. That’s what sheep do, you see.”
The two lambs bounced their heads as if they understood.
“Good,” she said.
Colly was so busy laughing he almost slid off his horse.
“Good afternoon, Miss Ninian,” John said, trying not to catch Colly’s eye.
“Oh!” She straightened up off the fence and spun around. Catching her bad foot in a clump of grass, she lurched and grabbed at the fence to steady herself.
“Sorry to startle you. Chatting to some friends, I see.” John nodded towards the lambs as if he hadn’t noticed her stumble. “May I introduce my friend, Captain Colwyn Hetherington?”
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Ninian.” Colly dismounted and bowed. “Sheep trouble?”
“Not really. I saw them being born and one cannot help but wonder about their progress, you know.”
John and Colly struggled to school their faces to bland politeness.
Looking uncomfortable, Marguerite ran the toe of her boot through the rich earth beside the fence. “Yes, well, I’d better be going,” she said.
“Before you do...” John turned to Colly. “Colly, would you mind taking our horses around to the stables?” He pointed to where the stables were set well back from the house. “I’ll follow in a trice. Thanks.” He handed Diabolo’s reins over. It was rude to dismiss his friend, but he wanted to make sure Miss Ninian had time to consider his mother’s offer before she got shipped off to Norwich.
“Has my mother spoken to you yet?” he asked, when Colly had led the horses away.
Her face lit up like the Lands End beacon.
His stomach tightened.
“My lord, how can I repay you? I am to come to Trewbridge next week.” She smiled mischievously. “Mama does not know whether to be annoyed that I am not going to Norwich, or thrilled that I will be living at Trewbridge so she can confide to all her acquaintances about my elevation in the world.”
John grinned. His mother would have no difficulty in quashing Amy Ninian’s pretensions.
“How is your father, Miss Ninian?”
She sobered, looking off into the distance. After a long silence she simply said, “Unwell.”
She knew.
“I must go,” she said.
John hesitated, then said, “Let me know if I can be of service to you in the future, Miss Ninian. Just send a note.”
Her lips parted but all she managed to whisper was, “You are very kind.”
She held out her hand and he clasped it tightly and brought it to his lips. “Keep strong, Miss Ninian,” he whispered.
She raised her eyes to his and essayed a sad little smile.
He released her hand and bowed and watched her as she trudged through the puddles on the driveway. Unlike her usual business-like pace, today she walked slowly, her shoulders slumped. At the corner she turned and lifted a hand. Then she was gone.
“I should have taken her home,” he said to himself, but Colly was waiting and he couldn’t leave his best friend to cool his heels whilst he accompanied Miss Ninian. More to the point, he rather thought Miss Ninian was one to lick her wounds alone.
Troubled, he turned towards the house—his house—and went to meet Colly.