Chapter 16: Comrade in Arms

Colonel Maynard arrived at Sheerness in the late afternoon. He asked around for the best inn and was sent to the Admiral Rodney where he took residence. The next morning he paid a call to the port admiral's office where he was told that HMS Syren had sailed six weeks before and would not return to port before another month or two were over. Stoically, Maynard settled down in the Rodney to wait for Anson's return to port.

On his third day, an older gentleman in admiral's uniform approached him in the common room whilst he sat at breakfast.

"Colonel Maynard?" the gentleman asked, and when Maynard nodded, "Rear Admiral Sir Horace Wilbury, at your service."

Maynard saw the need to rise from his chair. "Colonel James Maynard, formerly of the 1st Bombay Muskets."

"I am pleased to meet you, Colonel. May I sit?"

"Of course. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Sir Horace?"

"I met your daughter a few weeks ago whilst she was visiting Sheerness to see her fiancé. She was accompanied by Sir Robert and Lady Connington who are old friends of mine. We supped together."

"That still does not..."

"Colonel, I know of your purpose here, and from one old soldier to another, I ask you to reconsider your plans."

"Captain Anson made insulting insinuations!"

"From what I hear, it was your conduct that might have been construed as insulting."

"I am ready to hear his challenge."

"Don't you think, Colonel, that you hold an unfair advantage over Captain Anson?"

"I shall certainly strive to make the chances as even as humanly possible."

"I am afraid that this is impossible."

"His hand? I shall tie my own hand to my back."

"Colonel, Captain Anson cannot shoot at you. By doing so, he would lose his fiancée, whilst you will achieve your purpose by shooting him. That is an unfair advantage since you yourself will not be at risk as you well know."

"Are you insinuating... ?"

"Not at all. I believe that you are of the opinion that the conditions will be fair. Only, they cannot be. Captain Anson will rather lose his life than his fiancée."

"Then he cannot be helped."

"I see. Colonel, if you think for one moment that your daughter will return to you after her fiancé's death, you are sadly mistaken. I have seen them together. If you kill Captain Anson, your daughter will hate you. She will lead a miserable life, hating you and hating herself for being the cause of her intended's death. Do you really aim at making your daughter's life miserable? Do you want her to hate you? Think about that, Colonel. I am an old man, and I have seen a lot of folly when hurt pride was involved. I should hate to see this wonderful young couple suffer because a father cannot let go of his daughter."

With that, Wilbury rose and left Maynard alone. For a brief moment, Maynard considered rushing after the old fool, making him pay for the meddling, but then he shook himself. What was it that made him want to shoot an old man? He remembered Elizabeth's letter, her last sentences telling him that other people had views and opinions, too.

Still, the old admiral's words gave him fodder for thought as he walked along the water front during his morning stroll. Out on the big river, Britain's wealth was streaming in. Ship after ship sailed by, laden with precious cargoes from all over the world, laden with goods that kept Britain's navy and army equipped and fed, or sailing out to sell the produce of Britain. This was the main artery of Britain where its life blood was being pumped. Maynard felt his heart swell with pride.

He heard steps behind him and turned. Immediately, he took off his hat seeing that a young widow was walking behind him.

"Madam!" he spoke, bowing slightly.

She nodded back. She was not veiled anymore, indicating that she had been widowed more than six months ago. Her heart-shaped face was barely lined, and her large blue eyes were like deep wells in which a man could drown. Maynard reluctantly continued on his walk, but for the rest of the day, he could not forget the young widow.

He saw her again on the next morning. This time he approached her and introduced himself.

"I am Colonel Maynard, Madam."

"Evelyn Thorpe, Colonel."

"I am enchanted, Madam. Are you awaiting a ship too?"

"Yes, I am waiting for my brother's return. He is Lt. Carling of the Syren frigate. I am living with him now." She pointed at the black skirt for explanation.

"You were widowed, Madam?"

She nodded sadly. "Last November. My husband, Major Thorpe, was serving with the 26th of Foot. He fell in a skirmish. When the regiment returned in January, they said that he died a hero."

"The 26th of Foot, Madam? I used to serve in that regiment. Major Thorpe? I knew an Ensign Thorpe. Rather tall, with red hair, and his left ear was bigger than the right?"

The woman nodded sadly. "Yes, that was my husband."

"I am very sorry for your loss, Madam. But how come that you have to live with your brother? Surely the sale of your husband's commission must have given you funds to live on?"

The woman smiled a bitter smile. "Oh yes, I am still waiting for the payment, and I am losing hope. Major Hope has promised me payment time and again, but there is always another reason why it has to be deferred again."

"That is an outrage, Madam. Does the regimental commander know about the matter?"

"I sent a letter, but it was never answered."

"A shame to be true! Where are they garrisoned, if I may inquire?"

"At Ashford, in Kent."

"I see. Madam, do you wish for me to speak to the regimental commander? It irks me to see that the widow of a fallen officer is denied her livelihood."

"Colonel, you have a good heart, but how could I ever repay you?"

"I need no payment, Madam, only your wish for me to help you in your extremity."

"Then I accept most gratefully, Colonel Maynard."

"Now, if you could show me the papers that you must have regarding the purchase of the commission?"

"Certainly, Colonel. We live in the small cottage over there. Why don't you come with me and I can at least offer you a tea for your troubles."

Maynard felt drawn to the woman. Not only was she appealing to his protective instincts, but she was also a most level headed person. The house was kept neat, the tea was delicious, and her papers were well ordered and complete. He spent an hour with her going over the events after her husband's untimely death, and Maynard learned about all persons involved. Before he left her, he promised to make the journey to Ashford on the next morning.

In a rented two-horse carriage Maynard started for Ashford. The 32 miles took almost the entire day, and he took lodgings at an inn for the night. The next morning found him at the regimental quarters at 7 o' clock. Only a sleepy aide-de-camp received him who promised to notify Colonel Grant of his visitor. Maynard had known Grant in his time with the regiment, and he held him for a decent enough man.

Indeed, when Grant showed a half hour later, he greeted Maynard politely. He showed embarrassment when he learned about Major Hope's failure to complete the purchase of his commission, and his embarrassment turned to anger when the aide-de-camp attributed the failure to Major Hope's gambling habit.

They found Major Hope still in his quarters, and still drunk from the last night's debauchery. Colonel Grant made him stand at attention and then delivered a dressing down right from the books. However, Hope was not impressed.

"Well, sir, I'll pay her when I'll win back the money I lost. She shouldn't find it difficult to make a living. You remember her, sir, don't you? A woman like her will never go hungry."

Colonel Grant stood back, deeply shocked at the callousness of the major, but Maynard felt nothing but cold fury.

"Major, I have the honour to represent the lady, and I find your words insulting to her, and thus to me. I must therefore demand satisfaction."

"We don't permit duels, Colonel," Grant said quickly.

"I am not under your command, Colonel," Maynard answered calmly. "There are two ways to solve this. One, this disgrace will write an apology to the lady and hand over the monies due, or two, I shall meet him and afterwards your purser can sell the commission again to satisfy the debt. I admit to a preference for the second option."

Grant nodded and looked at Hope. "Well, Major, what's it to be?"

"Sir, I don't have £4,200 right now. Things will change for sure in the next..."

Grant stood tall now. "Then I choose a third option. I herewith relieve you of your duties since you are not in the rightful possession of a commission. Is this satisfactory to you, Colonel? The purser can offer the commission for purchase today, and I shall personally see to it that the proceeds will go to Mrs. Thorpe."

"That appears to be another solution to this unsavoury situation," Maynard answered, not quite satisfied.

Hope was just then realising what had transpired. "I can't give up my commission, sir. I already sold my captain's commission. What am I to do?"

Grant shrugged. "Frankly, Hope, I do not really care. I suppose you will have to revert to the ranks. Clear your quarters by noon. That's all."

"Sir, may I have a two days' furlough? I shall see my father and ask him for a loan."

Grant looked at Maynard who nodded grimly. "The money and an apology in writing to the lady."

Grant turned to Hope again. "You heard Colonel Maynard. £4,200 and an apology, and make it convincing."

Maynard extended his stay in Ashford for two days, meeting a few other officers and enjoying the contact with his old regiment. On the morning of the third day, a tired-looking Major Hope handed over an envelope that contained a draft over £4,200 issued by a well known bank house and a letter of apology. Maynard took his time examining the documents before he declared himself satisfied, but soon after, he had the rented carriage readied and set out for the return journey to Sheerness.

On the return, Maynard took the detour over Maidstone where he had the money draft deposited into an account in Mrs. Thorpe's name. He spent the night in Maidstone and started for Sheerness early on the next morning. He arrived just a little after noon and made for Lt. Carling's cottage where he announced himself to an elderly housekeeper. Mrs. Thorpe received him a short time later, and he at once noticed that she gone through a little effort with her appearance. He dress was freshly pressed, her long blonde hair was tied back in a very becoming way, and she had applied a touch of rouge to her cheeks.

"Good afternoon, Colonel. It is a pleasure to see you again."

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Thorpe. I am the bearer of good news."

"Then you are doubly welcome," she smiled and left Maynard briefly speechless.

He recovered quickly clearing his throat. "I – hr-hm – was able to convince Major Hope of the need to pay his debt. He paid with a money order which I took the liberty to deposit in your name at the bank house of Emmerton & Crombie in Maidstone. Here are the documents you will need to claim the funds, and here is an apology written by Major Hope. As you can observe, the monies will earn you a 7 % interest per annum, £287 in other words. Not a fortune, but quite enough for a modest livelihood. I also undertook to bring you £100 in pound notes, for your immediate needs."

Evelyn Thorpe stared at him in disbelief. "That is ... I do not know what to say!"

"I should also point out that Colonel Grant was very helpful in persuading Major Hope."

That brought her back to reality. "I will admit that I was disappointed in Colonel Grant. I wrote to him alerting him to my situation, yet he never responded. I must thank you, Colonel, for taking this effort upon you."

"Mrs. Thorpe, I assure you that I see it as a privilege to be of service to you."

"Why, Colonel! You are a true gentleman."

"I strive to be, Madam. And your kind words are ample reward."

"Yet, they are not nearly an adequate compensation for the efforts you undertook. Surely you incurred expenditures for which I must reimburse you?"

"Speak not of it, my dear Mrs. Thorpe. I have ample money, and nobody on whom to spend it. Please consider this a favour to the widow of a former comrade-in-arms."

Evelyn Thorpe nodded seriously. "I accept the favour with gratitude. Would you instead give me the honour of being my guest at dinner tonight?"

"Madam, nothing would please me more. But are you prepared for hosting visitors?"

"I shall rely on Mrs. Walker, my brother's housekeeper. She is a competent cook."

"Then I shall call on you this evening. Seven o' clock?"

"That would be good. My son will be still awake then, and you can meet him. He attends the local Latin school."

Maynard swallowed a little. He had not known that she was a mother, but then he forced himself to smile.

"He must be older then?"

"Thirteen years, Colonel. He is my joy, a good boy and coming right after his father."

"Then this evening will provide me with ample reward for my endeavour," Maynard said gallantly before bidding his good-byes.

Walking back to the Rodney, he contemplated the situation. He was impressed by the Widow Thorpe. She clearly had a good education, typical for the lower gentry and befitting the wife of an officer. Knowing that her son was thirteen years old, he had to correct his estimation of her age to above thirty. It explained the calm dignity she possessed.

For over ten years, Maynard had been deprived of meaningful conversation in his daily life, with Elizabeth mute, and the neighbours so far below his own education and standing. He had been very much the whale in the fish tank in Salcombe. Yet, he had not even tried to woo another woman for his wife to ease his isolation. Too bad had been his conscience over his wife's death, too great his fear to add to Elizabeth's pain.

Now, with Elizabeth gone ... He started. Elizabeth was gone. She had chosen Anson, and even if he, Maynard, would kill Anson, she would never return, never live with him again. Worse, if he pursued his feud with Anson, Elizabeth would never forgive him. He well remembered his wife's strength of will, and Elizabeth, now with her speech restored, would be a chip off the same block.

She wanted Anson, and Anson she would get. Was the captain to blame? Maynard suddenly realised that Anson had not led Elizabeth astray. It was she who had to be the driving force. She had proven that amply when she shocked Maynard and everybody else with her forceful "no" in church. He remembered her with a mixture of anger and admiration. She had embarrassed him terribly, true; but what an effort it must have been to even speak the few mangled words!

What could he, Maynard, gain by exacerbating the situation? Nothing. Elizabeth was living in London which was where she belonged with her thirst for books and music, with or without Anson.

Now there was Evelyn Thorpe. She was the sister of Anson's First Lieutenant and she would be influenced by her brother. From what Maynard had picked up from conversations, Anson was already making a name for himself as a prudent and successful commanding officer, as a captain who enjoyed the respect of his officers and crew. Come to think about it, Maynard had to concede that Anson's professional conduct had been exemplary in Salcombe. He was a man of moderation and of considerable wits – he had to be seeing how he had been Maynard's equal at cards. No, to provoke a duel with Anson for a trumped-up reason would certainly alienate Mrs. Thorpe.

Why not find out instead whether the lady was open for a courtship? Maynard thought of himself as eminently eligible. He was a man of consequence, a retired regimental commander, a wealthy land owner, a man active and respected in his community. Mrs. Thorpe could do much worse.

Then there was the boy. Thirteen years of age, his father fallen. The boy would need a father figure, and who would be better suited than another officer. He had been a good father to Elizabeth after all, perhaps excepting those last months when his desire to find her a husband of consequence had made him blind for her needs and wishes. Chances were that he would be better suited to raise a boy than a girl.

The question was of course whether Mrs. Thorpe was interested at all. She had her own means now, but then again she owed those means to Maynard's initiative. Those £4,200 would not allow her a grand life style either, and her brother would not be much help as a lieutenant.

Maynard was honest enough to himself to admit his beginning infatuation with the lady. Physically, she was very much his wife's opposite, but he sensed a similar kindness of heart and a lively intelligence in her, qualities that he had not found in any other woman since Martha's death. Perhaps it was his good fortune to have come to Sheerness.

The evening had gone well enough. Mrs. Thorpe had been a true delight, and her boy would be the apple of the eye of any true man, articulate and polite as he was. Once the boy had gone to bed, Maynard and Mrs. Thorpe had sat at the table for another two hours, lost in deep conversation. For the first time, Maynard had spoken to someone of his past, his wife, his devastation and his guilt. Evelyn Thorpe had listened to him, and when he bared his soul, exposed his anguish and guilt, she had placed a soothing hand on his arm in an unconscious gesture of empathy. When the time came for Maynard to bid his farewell, she had giving the startled man a friendly hug.