Lady Camoynes sighed. ‘Do hurry, Major.’
Sharpe, torn from the pit of defeat to this sudden, dizzy success, obeyed. He would go to Spain with the trained men of the Prince of Wales’ Own Volunteers. Lord Fenner agreed. His costs over these last weeks would be paid to his account at Messrs Hopkinson and Son of St Alban’s Street. Lord Fenner frowned. ‘How much?’
‘Two hundred guineas,’ Lady Camoynes said. ‘In gold. Is that enough, Major?’
‘Indeed, my Lady.’ It was a huge profit.
‘Then do proceed, Major Sharpe.’
The back pay of the Battalion would be restored. The Second Battalion would be properly established at Chelmsford and given new officers. It was all agreed. The Colours would be taken from Sir Henry’s house to the barracks. Sir Henry, unable to speak nodded. Sir Barstan, outraged that the Colours were in Sir Henry’s house in the first place, snorted angrily. Sharpe smiled. ‘And there will be no changes, none at all, in the officers you have selected to go to Spain.’
Fenner stared as if he had misheard Sharpe. ‘You mean . . .’
Sharpe’s voice was loud. ‘I mean that I wish to serve under Lieutenant Colonel Girdwood’s command.’ Sir Henry was frowning.
Fenner, defeated, was still puzzled. ‘If Colonel Girdwood still wishes to command, Major, you will serve under him?’
‘That is my wish.’
Lady Camoynes smiled. ‘You’ve finished, Major?’
‘Indeed, Ma’am.’ His other request was none of Lord Fenner’s business, no one’s business but Sharpe’s and the girl who waited downstairs.
Lady Camoynes reached out a gloved hand. ‘I would be most grateful for the book, Major. Simon and I will meet tomorrow, won’t we, my Lord?’ Fenner nodded, scenting the humiliation that was to come. Sir Henry Simmerson still gaped at the book she now took from Sharpe. Lady Camoynes opened its pages, showing a spread of ledger columns. ‘You like the book, Sir Henry? I have two for sale.’ She stood. ‘Major? Shall we leave?’
‘Of course, my Lady.’
‘Major Sharpe!’ It was General Sir Barstan Maxwell, making one last effort to serve his master with honesty. ‘You were telling the truth?’
Lady Camoynes held up a hand to stop Sharpe’s reply. She smiled at the General. ‘The truth, dear Sir Barstan, is whatever Lord Fenner and I decide it shall be. And it will prove, dear Simon, a most expensive commodity. Goodnight, gentlemen. Come, Major.’
He took his weapons and telescope from the table, gave his rescuer his arm, and left in triumph.
Sharpe pulled open the door of Sir Henry’s coach. ‘Sir?’
Girdwood, seeing Sharpe, gaped. He made a small noise of terror, a shrew-like noise. He saw the sword at Sharpe’s side and the rifle on the tall man’s shoulder, and his voice was tentative as though he saw a ghost of a man meant to be consigned to the Australian wilderness. ‘You want me, Major Sharpe?’
‘In my own time, sir.’ Sharpe smiled. There were men whose flesh had long been flensed from their bones whose last sight on earth had been that smile. ‘But for the moment I have come for Miss Gibbons.’ He held out his hand. ‘Jane?’
Girdwood lifted a weak hand as if to stop her, but there was a scrape, a flash of dusky light on long steel, and Sharpe’s sword was gleaming in the courtyard. ‘Sir?’
Girdwood stayed very still. Sharpe sheathed the sword and handed the girl down to the cobbles. ‘Jane. I have the honour to present the Dowager Countess Camoynes.’ He bowed to the Countess. ‘Jane Gibbons, Ma’am. We are to be married.’
The Countess looked the girl up and down with a critical eye. ‘Have you agreed to marry him, Miss Gibbons?’
‘Yes, my Lady.’
‘He’s more fortunate than he deserves. He’s an alley-cat, aren’t you, Major?’
‘If your Ladyship says so.’
She looked at him with a humorous, challenging expression. ‘She does. Where do you go to this night, alley-cat? I have a carriage and I’m feeling generous.’
‘Carlton House,’ Sharpe smiled. ‘We are invited.’
‘Dressed like that? I suppose you can say it’s a costume ball. Very well! We shall all go to Prinny’s! Jane and I can turn up on the arm of a hero. Dear Miss Gibbons,’ and the Countess offered Jane her hand, ‘do me the honour of waiting in my carriage.’