True Soldier Gentlemen (Napoleonic War 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

undone most of their efforts. Even so, with his cocked hat and its tall white plume on his head, his sword – something he had never worn or thought to wear before in his life – trailing behind him in its scabbard, he admitted that he looked heroic.
    He struck a pose, one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other pressed to his chest, and tried to adopt an expression of valour and fortitude. In spite of himself he was impressed, and smiled to think how appearances could be so deceptive. Then he frowned because it set him to wondering who he really was. His hand moved from his chest to finger the gorget at his throat. The horseshoe-shaped piece of metal was purely decorative, but apparently an essential part of the uniform. His outfitters had told him that it was a reminder of the time when officers had worn armour like medieval knights. He wondered about that, and at least it interrupted the bleaker thoughts and questions he could not answer. Better to keep busy and deliver the papers to the adjutant.
    As Hanley turned he noticed that he had been watched. A young woman – indeed, scarcely more than a girl if it were not for the knowing gleam in her eye – stood a few yards away. She wore a simple white blouse and a dark blue skirt, the hem ofwhich was dirty. Her hair was dark brown, the thick curls falling on to her shoulders. There was amusement in her expression as she stared directly at him for a moment.
    ‘Most handsome,’ she said with a half-smile, and then walked away at a slow pace, swaying her hips with the motion.
    ‘Who is this Johnny Newcombe?’ said a high-pitched masculine voice from the inn doorway.
    ‘Damn him, I say. Who’s the dollymop?’ The second voice was even more affected. Hanley saw two of the officers who had mis-directed him earlier. The first was very fat and red faced and the second much taller and thinner with a long hooked nose. The pair seemed to have stepped straight out of a cartoon, and Hanley could almost see their words printed in bubbles beside them.
    ‘Oh, just some slut from one of the soldier’s families. A grenadier, I believe.’
    ‘Yes, her upper regions are well developed.’ The taller officer lastionsd uproariously at his own wit.
    ‘Tow row row,’ said his companion. ‘Scrub her up and I’d join the grenadiers myself.’ They both found this hysterical. The girl must have overheard their comments, but only walked more slowly and sinuously. Hanley found it all revolting, and gave them only a curt nod as he walked past them and went to find Brotherton. His spirits sank further as he thought of living with such oafs as his companions.
    At least Brotherton was jovial.
    ‘Less than an hour with the regiment and already carrying important dispatches. This augurs a great future for our newest officer.’ The acting adjutant was no older than twenty-five, but already had little creases round the edges of his eyes and mouth. He had also lost his hair very early in life, and wore a luxurious but ill-fitting wig. Papers were strewn across the table in front of him, but he immediately laid down his pen, winced as he left a blot on the page he had been writing, and reached up to snatch the message. ‘I am most favourably impressed. Perhaps the fate of this regiment and our nation depends upon this small piece of paper. Are these orders to depart for war and glory?’
    Brotherton unfolded MacAndrews’ note and read it intently, then whistled softly through his teeth. Hanley was not sure what he was supposed to do, so simply waited, standing loosely, with his arms hanging down at his sides. The urge to look heroic had vanished. There were two clerks in the inn’s side room, which was serving as the office. The redcoats scribbled away and paid him no attention. A cracked voice broke into song from behind the side door of the room. Hanley looked puzzled, but the others ignored it. They were used to Major Hawker’s ways, and anyway had seen the steady procession of