This story is a bit of a departure from my norm. I've been toying with a couple of historical ideas but have been nervous about doing them.
Historical stories don't seem to garner a lot of support here. But I'm itching to give it a try. As a primer, this story is set during the Peninsular War of 1808. It's inspired by the works of Bernard Cornwell, and Patrick O'Brien. Thank you for indulging me and I hope some of you like it.
I have taken some historical liberties, especially when it comes to authentic language. I hope you'll forgive me.
All characters are fictitious and over eighteen. There will be further chapters.
Thanks go to Henry_North for having a first look and giving me some help.
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**Chapter 1: The Ball at Colwich Hall.**
I felt a sense of relief as the coach finally came to a shuddering halt. The hours of jostling on country roads were over. Oh, how I would have preferred to have ridden, instead of thrown around in this box.
"Wake up Charles we're here," I said to the snoring man opposite.
He wore the dishevelled red uniform of an infantry Captain. Complete with brandy stains on his yellow lapels. I had a lot to thank Charles for. He's the reason I was currently dressed in the red and blue uniform of a British Army Surgeon.
As a young man studying medicine, I had no desire to be in the army. I dreamt of opening a small surgery, in a quiet part of the countryside. However, my imbecile father gambled away the family funds. On his death, I inherited nothing but monstrous debts. To avoid debtors' prison Charles suggested I join the army.
I became a surgeon, attached to the 45th (Nottinghamshire) Regiment of Foot. With luck, I managed to get assigned to Charles's company. He captained the 4th company of the 1st Battalion. After a few years on garrison duty in the new world, we are now preparing to fight in the old. With plans to invade the continent and take on the French.
Tonight we were required to attend a farewell ball at Colwick Hall. The impressive home of Jack and Mary-Ann Chaworth. The couple had invited officers of dam near three regiments.
I relished the thought of campaigning against the French. Since joining the army, I felt more comfortable abroad. Then amongst the civilities of home. So I steeled myself to endure this ghastly social event.
The house was very impressive and set inside a sprawling estate. I felt uncomfortable as I walked up the steps as I often did in these situations. It had been many years since my parents had the funds to socialise in high society. Also, I didn't always feel at home amongst the other officers. Their job was the business of killing. Whilst mine was preserving life.
When we entered the ballroom, it was full of officers in their dress uniforms. A sea of red, occasionally peppered with green from the rifles or blue from the dragoons. Several women also punctuated the patchwork of uniforms. Officer's wives or guests of the hosts. They wore a variety of flowing dresses, of every style and hue.
Several young ladies stood around the outside of the dance hall. They were mostly escorted by older women. The young ladies were being touted by their mothers. Hoping to catch the notice of a dashing officer, and perhaps make a good match.
When we entered, I inevitably became the focus of some of the ladies' attention. At that time in my life, I was in peak physical shape. Thick black hair, brown eyes and a somewhat brooding demeanour. At least that was my sister's assessment. Yet, that may be a touch arrogant. Perhaps they weren't looking at me at all.
As lovely as these young ladies were, they held little interest for me. Since joining the army my career was at the forefront of my mind. My thoughts were consumed with the adventure we were to embark on. I endured a few hours of mindless prattle with the young ladies and their mothers. They all hinted they would like to join me in a dance, but I declined to ask them. When I couldn't hack it anymore, I left to find a quiet place.
I wandered down a corridor to try a few of the doors. The first I came to was locked but the second opened easily. The dark room seemed to be a library. When I closed the door, I heard a strange noise. There was a loud rhythmic knocking, coming from the nearest wood-panelled wall. As I placed my ear against it I heard a feminine voice.
"Oh...That's it...Faster...Yes...Like that...Don't stop," came the breathless voice between knocks.
A couple of lovers enjoying a final embrace. That explained the locked door.
"It's considered rude to eavesdrop, Sir," came a soft voice behind me.
I half-tripped over my sword as I jumped from the wall. Looking around I saw a young woman sitting on a window seat. She held an open book on her lap and read by the moonlight. The cool light illuminated her feminine features. Her skin looked pale in the moonlight and her eyes appeared to be blue. Her silky brown hair was tied up with a white silk ribbon. A few strands had come loose and framed her beguiling face.
Her lips were a luscious red. Not the brash red of a Chepstow whore, but the deep burgundy of Merlot. She appeared to be in her early twenties and her blue eyes were appraising me. I didn't recall seeing her with the other young ladies at the ball. I'm sure I would have remembered her.
"You aren't much of a conversationalist, Sir. If you can't make polite conversation. Perhaps you should continue to listen to my sister," the girl said, looking back to her book.
"Your sister?" I asked, conscious I had been staring at her far too long.
"Yes, my sister Lotte. Those are her delightful moans you can hear. She's giving one of the officers a going away present," she said as her eyes scanned the page.
"Oh. Well, if you'll excuse me, I'll leave you to your book," I said bowing my head to this strange girl.
I did not want to be thought of as a perverted eavesdropper. But before I could open the door, the enchanting girl spoke again.
"Sir? Is it not customary, to introduce yourself in polite society?" She asked holding out her gloved hand.
I turned and walked towards her. Annoyed I was being schooled in etiquette.
"Dr Jack Hollington. Pleased to meet your acquaintance, ma'am," I said with another bow.
I held her outstretched hand and pretended to kiss her glove.
"A doctor?" the girl said with interest.
"Surgeon ma'am, of the 45th regiment, and you are?" I asked, intrigued. Not letting go of her hand.
"Elizabeth," the girl said in response.
"Just Elizabeth?" I said starting to be entranced by this mysterious girl.
She had an aura of quiet confidence without it falling into arrogance. This girl was grabbing my attention as I usually favoured strong, determined women. Not demure wall flowers.
"Elizabeth will do for the moment," was her cryptic answer. She delicately retrieved her gloved hand from my grasp and placed it on her lap.
Now I was closer, I saw her eyes were indeed blue, like sparkling sapphires. Her seated position gave me a good view of her cleavage. My eyes were drawn to her bosom, as it rose and fell with each breath. Her green dress looked of fine quality and expensive.
"It's also customary for young ladies to be accompanied," I said, trying to gain control of the conversation.
"Well, I'm not like other young ladies," she said with a hint of a smile.
"I'm beginning to see that," I said returning her smile.
"I sneaked away to read, but why aren't you dancing? I'm sure there's a line of young ladies wanting you to ask them," she said still reading.
"I'm afraid I don't dance. I have two left feet and two right arms," I said, teasing another smile from her lips.
"What's that you're reading?" I asked eyeing the book on her lap.
"Voltaire, does that shock you?" she asked, looking up at me with a certain amount of pride.
She must know the French writer's views were considered controversial.
"Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities," I said. Surprising her with a direct quote.
"My, my. Dr are you a scholar as well as a poor dancer?" she said with a laugh.
"Why's that funny?" I asked.
She got the giggles and didn't answer.
"My father never liked Voltaire. But my mother is an avid fan," I explained trying to keep the conversation going.
"Well, she has good taste. Father doesn't approve either. He tries to stop me from reading them," Elizabeth said.
She closed the book and slid her legs off the window seat, freeing a space. I read her intent and sat close to her.
"I'm sure you could squirrel away a little book in there somewhere," I said boldly examining her dress.
She laughed again and I saw a hint of a blush show on her cheeks.
"Perhaps. But one little book wouldn't last the voyage. Let alone the campaign," she said.
I must have looked confused because she elaborated.
"Oh well, you will find out eventually. My father is Frederick Lister," she said with a sigh.
"As in Colonel Lister?" I asked surprised.
"I'm his youngest daughter," Elizabeth said with an awkward smile.
I jumped up from the window seat. Realising I was alone in a dark library, with the daughter of my commanding officer.
"See, that's why I didn't mention it," Elizabeth said sighing at my reaction.
"You're joining us on campaign?" I said, trying to process this new information.
It was true some of the soldiers' families would become camp followers. They followed their men on the campaign and performed menial duties. But high-ranking officers like the Colonel. Wouldn't usually be accompanied by their children. To take his daughters to war was a terrible risk.
"Well not initially but when the circumstances allow," she said.
The knocking was getting louder, and her sister's moans becoming more pronounced.
Not only was I alone with the Colonel's daughter, but her sister was fornicating next door. I knew I should have left then. But I couldn't help looking into her stunning blue eyes and surveying the soft contours of her face.
