sir."
“That you do. Lady Curtis, that you do. Now I must go.” And with a jaunty wave he strode out to join Speen, who was holding his restive horse.
“Well, Sophia, there is nothing to do but occupy ourselves as usefully as we can until we hear further news.” Lady Curtis sat down in a chair near the window, pulled out her workbasket, and calmly took up her needlework.
“I know. Mama, but it is so tedious just waiting. I wish I could do something.” Sophia paced restlessly for a few minutes, then went to the window to watch officers assembling down in front of headquarters. “I am hopeless at needlework and I shall not be able to concentrate on anything I read."
“There is always your sketchbook, my love."
“I know, but I detest still lifes and there is nothing else to do for I cannot go outside; I shall merely be in the way. I wish I were a man, then I would be able to do something to help win this wretched war."
“There will be wounded to tend to soon enough, and we do a great deal to help win this wretched war by insuring that there is a comfortable house and a good meal to return to after the exertions of the day."
“I know. Mama, I know.” Sophia had heard it all many times before, but she was sick and tired of waiting patiently for men to return home after they had been out doing exciting things. She had spent her entire life waiting, it seemed. Her mother was kind and patient and well suited to the task. No matter how late her husband returned or how worried she had been, she was always ready with a warm smile of welcome and a hot meal. It is no small accomplishment to provide a home for a man when one is following the drum, she had told her daughter over and over again. And Sophia agreed. She was well acquainted with the effort that went into running a household smoothly in a foreign land where supplies were uncertain and where one never knew where one would be laying one's head next. But she was not her mother. She was not content to sit quietly by while someone else was out doing things, accomplishing things.
The rest of the morning Sophia and her mother occupied themselves around the house as best they could, straining their ears to determine if the booming was coming from San Sebastian or somewhere else, and how the British troops were faring in the attack, but it was impossible to tell. Nor could they get any clues from the activity in the village itself. Officers were coming and going in all directions. Finally, just before noon. Lady Curtis looked up from her needlework. Head tilted to one side, she listened intently for a moment.
“What is it, Mama?"
“Hush, listen."
“I hear nothing."
“That is just it. The cannonading has ceased."
“Then they have succeeded."
But Lady Curtis shook her head. “No, did you not hear Thornton say how massive the walls of San Sebastian are and how impregnable the city is? This is far too short a time..."
Her words were cut off by another muffled boom sounding in the distance.
“There, Mama, they have started again."
“No. That is in another direction."
“So it is.” Sophia crossed over to the window and looked out, but the scene remained unchanged. Then came another low rumbling. “It is coming from our right. I wonder..."
But further speculation was cut off by a banging close by. Both ladies jumped and looked anxiously at one another. It was a full minute before either one of them realized that the banging was at their own front door.
“If you please, senora.” One of the maids ran in.
“I am coming, Maria.” Lady Curtis rose to follow her but was forestalled by the appearance of a tall officer, his uniform covered with dust.
“What can I do for you, Major..."
“Adair, Major Adair, ma'am. And if you please, I have come to see if I might borrow your daughter."
“Borrow my daughter?” Lady Curtis stole a quick glance at Sophia. Major Adair—so this was the officer whose name had come up at dinner the night Andrew Leith Hay
“That you do. Lady Curtis, that you do. Now I must go.” And with a jaunty wave he strode out to join Speen, who was holding his restive horse.
“Well, Sophia, there is nothing to do but occupy ourselves as usefully as we can until we hear further news.” Lady Curtis sat down in a chair near the window, pulled out her workbasket, and calmly took up her needlework.
“I know. Mama, but it is so tedious just waiting. I wish I could do something.” Sophia paced restlessly for a few minutes, then went to the window to watch officers assembling down in front of headquarters. “I am hopeless at needlework and I shall not be able to concentrate on anything I read."
“There is always your sketchbook, my love."
“I know, but I detest still lifes and there is nothing else to do for I cannot go outside; I shall merely be in the way. I wish I were a man, then I would be able to do something to help win this wretched war."
“There will be wounded to tend to soon enough, and we do a great deal to help win this wretched war by insuring that there is a comfortable house and a good meal to return to after the exertions of the day."
“I know. Mama, I know.” Sophia had heard it all many times before, but she was sick and tired of waiting patiently for men to return home after they had been out doing exciting things. She had spent her entire life waiting, it seemed. Her mother was kind and patient and well suited to the task. No matter how late her husband returned or how worried she had been, she was always ready with a warm smile of welcome and a hot meal. It is no small accomplishment to provide a home for a man when one is following the drum, she had told her daughter over and over again. And Sophia agreed. She was well acquainted with the effort that went into running a household smoothly in a foreign land where supplies were uncertain and where one never knew where one would be laying one's head next. But she was not her mother. She was not content to sit quietly by while someone else was out doing things, accomplishing things.
The rest of the morning Sophia and her mother occupied themselves around the house as best they could, straining their ears to determine if the booming was coming from San Sebastian or somewhere else, and how the British troops were faring in the attack, but it was impossible to tell. Nor could they get any clues from the activity in the village itself. Officers were coming and going in all directions. Finally, just before noon. Lady Curtis looked up from her needlework. Head tilted to one side, she listened intently for a moment.
“What is it, Mama?"
“Hush, listen."
“I hear nothing."
“That is just it. The cannonading has ceased."
“Then they have succeeded."
But Lady Curtis shook her head. “No, did you not hear Thornton say how massive the walls of San Sebastian are and how impregnable the city is? This is far too short a time..."
Her words were cut off by another muffled boom sounding in the distance.
“There, Mama, they have started again."
“No. That is in another direction."
“So it is.” Sophia crossed over to the window and looked out, but the scene remained unchanged. Then came another low rumbling. “It is coming from our right. I wonder..."
But further speculation was cut off by a banging close by. Both ladies jumped and looked anxiously at one another. It was a full minute before either one of them realized that the banging was at their own front door.
“If you please, senora.” One of the maids ran in.
“I am coming, Maria.” Lady Curtis rose to follow her but was forestalled by the appearance of a tall officer, his uniform covered with dust.
“What can I do for you, Major..."
“Adair, Major Adair, ma'am. And if you please, I have come to see if I might borrow your daughter."
“Borrow my daughter?” Lady Curtis stole a quick glance at Sophia. Major Adair—so this was the officer whose name had come up at dinner the night Andrew Leith Hay
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