of the things she loved most about him was his kindness. For a man who had spent the better part of his life in the rough and tumble existence of military camps, he was very sensitive to the feelings of others, especially those who were close to him.
“Well, sir, before Vitoria, I would have said yes they are. Before the battle on the outskirts of the city I saw in the army's reserve parks more pieces of field artillery lined up than I have ever seen before—rows and rows of them beautifully arranged. But after the battle, those same fields were littered with overturned gun carriages and abandoned cannon. It appeared as though in their flight the French had left everything behind. One hardly knows what they now have left to defend themselves."
“We need not congratulate ourselves on that score,” Fitzroy Somerset concluded grimly. “Adair reported enough artillery at San Sebastian and Pamplona to cause a great deal of damage."
“But what is the terrain like? If our troops are crossing the beach to reach the fortress at San Sebastian we may be able to come in under their guns. If I were not under this infernal parole I could make a sketch of the place and then we should have an accurate idea of what we are up against."
“Relax, Andrew.” Colin Campbell laid a hand on his shoulder. “Sophia, here, has already drawn us an admirable picture of the place."
“Sophia?"
Despite her best efforts, Sophia could not help sounding just the slightest bit self-conscious as she replied. “Yes. Major Adair asked me to draw him a picture while the details of it were fresh in his mind."
“Ah.” Andrew said nothing more, but his expression betrayed his thoughts. How had Sophia, who ordinarily did not share her pictures with most of her friends, come to show them to a perfect stranger? It was obvious from the look on her face that Sophia was not about to answer these questions, and Andrew was certainly not going to ask.
Chapter 7
The next few days Sophia and her mother saw very little of the general or anyone else as all of Wellington's staff were occupied with the plans to storm San Sebastian. Sir Thornton spent his entire day at headquarters or riding to inspect the troops and their supplies at Irun, Vera, and Echelar, returning home only to sleep.
Sophia continued to go out on sketching expeditions, but she remained within the limits of the village, satisfying herself with pictures of the sturdy Basque peasants at work in their daily tasks or vistas of the distant mountains as seen from the windows at the back of their house. On the one day she had planned to get out early to take advantage of the softened tints of early morning light, she awoke to the sound of shutters banging in the wind and the distant sound of thunder. Peering out the window, she could see the storm clouds approaching from the coast, but it took a few minutes more to realize that the ominous rumbling came from cannon fire and not from thunder.
Hastily pulling on a plain cambric morning dress and sturdy half boots, she hurried down the steep stairs to the parlor just in time to witness-the general kissing her mother good-bye.
“Ah, Sophia, you heard the cannon. Graham has attacked San Sebastian. At the moment the duke is prepared to leave the attack to him, but I must be in readiness to send forth fresh troops and supplies.” He glanced at the worried faces of the two women. “Both of you should be safe enough here. You are close to headquarters and a good distance from any possibility of fighting."
“We are not thinking of ourselves, my dear.” Sophia's mother spoke for both of them. “Do take care."
“You need have no fear on that head. I am but a quartermaster, a provisioner, not a fighter."
Lady Curtis smiled and shook her head. “A provisioner who is so zealous in his duties that he rides to the front in order to assure himself that all he has ordered forward has arrived according to his instructions. I know you too well,
“Well, sir, before Vitoria, I would have said yes they are. Before the battle on the outskirts of the city I saw in the army's reserve parks more pieces of field artillery lined up than I have ever seen before—rows and rows of them beautifully arranged. But after the battle, those same fields were littered with overturned gun carriages and abandoned cannon. It appeared as though in their flight the French had left everything behind. One hardly knows what they now have left to defend themselves."
“We need not congratulate ourselves on that score,” Fitzroy Somerset concluded grimly. “Adair reported enough artillery at San Sebastian and Pamplona to cause a great deal of damage."
“But what is the terrain like? If our troops are crossing the beach to reach the fortress at San Sebastian we may be able to come in under their guns. If I were not under this infernal parole I could make a sketch of the place and then we should have an accurate idea of what we are up against."
“Relax, Andrew.” Colin Campbell laid a hand on his shoulder. “Sophia, here, has already drawn us an admirable picture of the place."
“Sophia?"
Despite her best efforts, Sophia could not help sounding just the slightest bit self-conscious as she replied. “Yes. Major Adair asked me to draw him a picture while the details of it were fresh in his mind."
“Ah.” Andrew said nothing more, but his expression betrayed his thoughts. How had Sophia, who ordinarily did not share her pictures with most of her friends, come to show them to a perfect stranger? It was obvious from the look on her face that Sophia was not about to answer these questions, and Andrew was certainly not going to ask.
Chapter 7
The next few days Sophia and her mother saw very little of the general or anyone else as all of Wellington's staff were occupied with the plans to storm San Sebastian. Sir Thornton spent his entire day at headquarters or riding to inspect the troops and their supplies at Irun, Vera, and Echelar, returning home only to sleep.
Sophia continued to go out on sketching expeditions, but she remained within the limits of the village, satisfying herself with pictures of the sturdy Basque peasants at work in their daily tasks or vistas of the distant mountains as seen from the windows at the back of their house. On the one day she had planned to get out early to take advantage of the softened tints of early morning light, she awoke to the sound of shutters banging in the wind and the distant sound of thunder. Peering out the window, she could see the storm clouds approaching from the coast, but it took a few minutes more to realize that the ominous rumbling came from cannon fire and not from thunder.
Hastily pulling on a plain cambric morning dress and sturdy half boots, she hurried down the steep stairs to the parlor just in time to witness-the general kissing her mother good-bye.
“Ah, Sophia, you heard the cannon. Graham has attacked San Sebastian. At the moment the duke is prepared to leave the attack to him, but I must be in readiness to send forth fresh troops and supplies.” He glanced at the worried faces of the two women. “Both of you should be safe enough here. You are close to headquarters and a good distance from any possibility of fighting."
“We are not thinking of ourselves, my dear.” Sophia's mother spoke for both of them. “Do take care."
“You need have no fear on that head. I am but a quartermaster, a provisioner, not a fighter."
Lady Curtis smiled and shook her head. “A provisioner who is so zealous in his duties that he rides to the front in order to assure himself that all he has ordered forward has arrived according to his instructions. I know you too well,
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