All in Scarlet Uniform (Napoleonic War 4) by Adrian Goldsworthy Page B

by the cold river, and had held her close to keep her warm so that she did not die. There was another time – an all-too-brief moment – when he had held her in his arms and felt her lips pressed against his. That was a better memory than their last conversation, when she angrily rejected his proposal of marriage. Ever since then he had picked over the en-counter in his mind, trying to understand where he had gone wrong and find the source of her rage.
    ‘Good day, Miss MacAndrews,’ he said, raising his hat, and then, remembering his manners, turned back to the mother. ‘Good day, Mrs MacAndrews, my sincere apologies. I really was not looking where I was going …’
    ‘No, you were not,’ said Esther. ‘You are almost as clumsy as my husband.’ As usual when amused or angered, her Carolina accent became more pronounced. Aware that his attention had shifted, she went on with exaggerated seriousness. ‘He has been known to trample everything in his path, crushing flowers, dogs and maidens too beneath his clumping feet.’
    Williams looked confused, and for the first time he saw that Miss MacAndrews was also taken aback and appeared to be struggling for words. He knew that he was staring and that this was rude. Jane was beautiful in a way that struck him almost physically, whether she was in elegant finery at a ball or tramping through the mountains in a torn and dirtied dress, or pulled from the water like a half-drowned rat. Today she wore a white muslin dress with a pale blue pelisse over it to keep out the cold, and although much shorter than her mother she carried off the high waist of current fashion through the excellence of her figure and movements. As usual, a few curls of red hair peeked from beneath her bonnet, this tiny hint of imperfection only adding to her startling good looks. Her skin was fair, her eyes a rich blue-grey, and then she flashed those neat white teeth and gave him that wide, generous smile.
    ‘Good day, Mr Williams,’ Miss MacAndrews said, bobbing down in a slight curtsy.
    They stared at each other for a while.
    ‘Well, isn’t this nice,’ said Esther, realising that the conversation needed some assistance. ‘Now, Mr Williams, you must tell Dobson to come and visit his grandson, now that we have returned from Scotland. He is a fine, healthy lad and is growing by the day.’ During the retreat to Corunna Dobson’s pregnant daughter Jenny had fled from the army and fallen in with Williams and Jane. They – well, if Williams were honest, he must admit chiefly Jane – had helped her give birth to a son, and then cared for the child when the mother fled again, abandoning the unwanted baby. Jane had grown very fond of young Jacob, and at the end of the retreat her mother was equally entranced. The decision already made before he was consulted, Major MacAndrews had gracefully offered to raise the boy.
    ‘I am most delighted to hear that, and shall certainly tell Lance Sergeant Dobson at the first opportunity.’
    ‘Lance sergeant? Ah yes, I was glad to hear of his promotion. That will please his wife, and the major always says he is the most wonderful fellow as long as he is sober.’ Since joining her husband last year, Esther MacAndrews had come to know the life of the battalion very well, taking a particular interest in the followers.
    ‘Yes, he is an excellent soldier.’ Williams paused, raising his hat once again to the mother. ‘Now, ma’am, with your permission.’ He turned to Jane. ‘Miss MacAndrews, I wondered whether you might do me the honour of accompanying me on a short walk?’
    ‘Certainly,’ said Mrs MacAndrews, speaking with such firmness that she answered both the question addressed to her and the one to her daughter as well. ‘I need to make sure that young Jacob has been washed and fed, and then sort out our things after the return from Scotland.’ She darted a mischievous look at Williams, and then spoke to her daughter. ‘Do not be too long, Jane. I