True Soldier Gentlemen (Napoleonic War 1) by Adrian Goldsworthy Page B

finest of men? So like her own dear father, who was so kind and noble to a silly child like herself – were they tired from their journey? They must be – she dearly liked to travel – had been to many parts of the country, but would dearly love to see more – but travel was always such a wearying business, so of course they must be tired – and to have come from America, just think of that – well, they were welcome to the regiment and now part of our happy family. The 106th were the most gallant gentlemen in the world – but then, they had already met our heroic grenadiers – the finest and handsomest of men – next only to her champion Wickham, of course – and the nice Mr Truscott – oh, and Anstey and Mosley . . .
    The flow seemed endless, and was regularly punctuated with a laugh surprising in both its volume and harshness. It did not seem to matter what anyone else said. Wickham took Mrs MacAndrews’ hand, staring into her eyes as he expressed his honour in meeting so fine a lady. He did the same with Jane, who ing met his gaze. While this went on Mrs Wickham happily showered the grenadiers with compliments, flirting with each in turn. When her husband had stepped back she returned her focus to the ladies – was sure they would be the best of friends – especially Miss MacAndrews – and did they know there was to be a ball . . .
    Wickham drew Pringle aside.
    ‘How are you enjoying commanding the company, Billy?’
    ‘Haven’t had to do much yet,’ replied Pringle. ‘Although Irather suspect that is going to change. I only have to do a little this evening and Hanley is helping prepare the targets for tomorrow.’
    ‘I am sure you are doing a fine job.’
    ‘I am just keeping the place warm for MacAndrews. It is a good company.’
    ‘Are you sure he will come back? There were rumours a year ago that he might get his majority, until Toye purchased the vacancy.’ Major Toye commanded the left wing of the 106th, having come in from the Royal Fusiliers.
    ‘There are always rumours,’ said Pringle. He rather liked Wickham, although they were not close friends. The latter was married, for one thing, and when he did spend time with the other subalterns he had more enthusiasm for gaming than suited either Pringle’s taste or funds.
    ‘That’s true, but there were good ones that General Lepper wants to promote him if he can. So there may be a vacancy.’
    ‘Isn’t Brotherton senior?’ It was odd to think of the diminutive Brotherton taking command of the tall grenadiers.
    ‘It doesn’t have to go with seniority,’ suggested Wickham quietly.
    ‘Oh, I see. Have you got the gilt?’ Everyone knew that Wickham was associated with a rich and powerful man. The connection was old, and had been reinforced more recently when this same man married his wife’s elder sister. Still, in certain company the lieutenant would launch mournful attacks on the selfish and wicked conduct of this same man and his wife, of how they had ignored the spirit of their inheritance, and provided him with only niggardly support. Yet now it seemed they were obliging him with the money needed to purchase the captaincy of the Grenadier Company.
    Wickham smiled.

7
     
    W illiams thought of Miss MacAndrews, picturing her gentle blue-grey eyes, which had looked into his for just one brief moment. He thought of her fair skin, her wide mouth and the smile which revealed her neat white teeth, and her flowing red hair – deciding that he would think of this as burnished copper, although he knew it did not do the magnificent colour justice. Then he pulled the trigger.
    The flint sparked, igniting the powder in the pan, then setting off the main charge. The musket slammed back into his shoulder as a cloud of dirty white smoke obscured the target. There was the now familiar smell of bad eggs.
    They were firing at circles of canvas three foot in diameter and placed a hundred yards away. At fifty yards Williams had hit the same target