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Chapter 11

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Lady Ruth Pearce awoke in a familiar bed in a familiar room to the sight of a familiar man in her bed. Said man had his head propped up on one hand and was smiling softly at her as she awoke.

"Good morning, darling." Sir Harry said to his wife and he leaned down and kissed her gently on her cheek as she awoke.

Ruth took him in and then looked around the room. The sun was clearly well above the horizon. She guessed it must be a good bit into the morning and the maid had not awoken her early. There was no fire lit in the fireplace.

Sir Harry noticed the direction of his wife's gaze. "I think they had enough sense not to disturb us this morning. Are you cold?"

Ruth sighed. She would usually have been up for hours by now but the joyous feeling of awakening next to her darling Harry after a good night's sleep and the blissful remembrance of the night before was putting too much happiness in her head to allow her to be angry. "No," Ruth smiled. She turned her head to look at Harry, his weather- beaten face and the dusting of hair on his chest.

"I love you very much," Harry told her.

Ruth stretched over and Sir Harry met her halfways for a warm, sensuous kiss. His arm wound around her waist and Ruth rolled back into the pillows and Harry grinned into the kiss as her arms began to run up and down his back. After a while the kiss broke apart, each of them panting for breath. Harry looked down on his new wife with a twinkle in his eyes.

"What?" Ruth searched his features.

"Nothing."

"You have to tell me now, Harry!"

Harry paused. "I had something in mind I thought we might try."

"Oh? Why do I get the feeling this isn't entirely proper?"

Sir Harry Pearce licked his lips deliciously slowly and then began kissing his way down his wife's body. Ruth felt at first rather embarrassed but as her husband's attentions brought her more pleasure, Ruth decided she might be willing to give this mysterious new expression of matrimony a try.

An hour or so later, Ruth blushed furiously over her breakfast, which was less to do with what had happened that morning and more to do with what her husband was doing with his tongue to the food on his fork as he stared at her pointedly.

"Harry!"

Harry licked his lips and blinked at her. "Ruth?"

"Not in front of the servants!"

"Really?" Harry lowered his fork and stared at it with a slightly deflated air. "How disappointing."

Beside them a footman fought back a smile and Ruth heard a maid in the hallway burst into a fit of giggles and shook her head at him. "What am I going to do with you?"

"I have a few ideas, as it happens," Harry responded, digging into his food.

Ruth glared at him but she realised from the warmth in his eyes that he was teasing her and sighed heavily. "You're incorrigible."

"I'm in love. Forgive an old man his folly, Lady Pearce. There are enough dark things in this life."

Slightly chastened, Ruth reached her hand out and laid it on top of her husband's.

Some time later, after breakfast was finished and the last of the packing was done, Ruth was overseeing the footmen packing their luggage onto the carriage that would take them to Devon while Harry stood in the hallway making sure that everything was where it should be and overseeing the most expensive of their travelling items which would be sent ahead to Bath for the rest of the summer. It was into the midst of all the hustle and bustle that a runner arrived at the door straight from Whitehall with a letter for General Pearce.

Harry tore it open as he stood in the hallway, Ruth standing across the doorway on the top step, an expression of concern on her face. "News from America. New forts being built out west, the completion of a fort at Prarie du Chien. As I suspected The United States is continuing their expansion across the continent with pace. The British government will no doubt take it as a sign of defiance and step up their military campaing. We will fight them but we are fighting a losing battle."

"It is marked urgent," Ruth noted.

"Indeed it is. His Majesty's Government is most considerate in insisting I be informed yet what, precisely, am I to do about event that happened more than eight weeks ago? This news has made it across half a continent and an entire ocean. I can only imagine it was considered important in case the progress of the war would aid our assailant's cause. Indeed it might but I am not in charge of the military forces there. I have my own tasks in London and we know very well that the course of our own troubles is unlikely to be changed by events continuing as everyone suspected they would. No, it is important but there is nothing to be done about it. Not now. Those on our own side who could act on this news are too short sighted to see what they are doing and they will not hear reason. We shall to Exeter. We shall have our honeymoon and thence to Bath."

The expression of worry never left Ruth's face until they were out of London. The trees following them on the dirt road, the harsh rhythm of horse shoes on granite morphing into the softer clop of soft dirt and mud of the countryside. Beyond London the leaves were full green, the harvest was ripening in the fields and every so often the corn and sheep and pigs would be interrupted by a cider orchard or a forest or a spread of wildflower meadow with grazing cattle or horses. They were ten miles outside the city when Ruth finally gave voice to her opinion.

"Harry, maybe we should turn back?"

"Turn back?"

"Why would they send a letter with such urgency if your presence was not required?"

Harry sighed heavily and rubbed a hand over his brow. "Ruth, they are determined to have their war. They think that if you cause enough terror you can subjugate an entire continent. Once upon a time that may have been true but not now. Not with the Americas. They will fight a few battles but the present action is extremely ill-advised. I doubt not that the United States has the capacity to be an extremely troublesome neighbour but I am not of the opinion that this choice of campaign was for the best. There are still too many in France who seek the return of the exiled Emperor. We have just crushed a man who ran the whole of Europe. A man like that does not satisfy himself with an island. I have lived long enough to know the sort of men who crave power. He has his allies yet and meanwhile our main fighting force is across an ocean."

"Harry, what about Lord Hunter?"

"What about him?" Harry snapped. He did not want to discuss him, never mind hear his name mentioned - especially after his wife's revellation the night before – but as was so often the case Ruth seemed to know exactly what to say to press the matter.

"You believe his loyalties to be with the United States?"

Harry sighed heavily. "I believe Hunter's loyalties to be with his pocket. A habit his son was unfortunate enough to inherit but Danny, unlike his father, may yet redeem himself. He has the love of a good woman, does he not, and enough sense in his head to do the right thing. What he needed was the guidance that was so lacking from his father. Lord Hunter, by contrast, is too far gone, I fear. He will go wherever he must and do whatever he must for no other end than the furtherance of his own pocket book. He will enslave and plunder. He was spy and betray and kill. It is simply that for now, the United States if offering Hunter a better deal than the United Kingdom. I wouldn't call that loyalty, as such."

"No, I suppose not. And we know the lengths to which he will go. Harry, perhaps this isn't the time to speak of it but I fear for Zoe."

"I know," Harry held Ruth's hand a little tighter. "Ruth, I have a request of you."

"A request," Ruth repeated, a hint of hesitation in your voice.

"I am not blind, Ruth, I see how my actions irritate you. You think I am coddling you, that I am hampering your independence and I know that you did not get to where you are by being insensible to your own safety but things are different now and I fear for you."

Ruth opened her mouth to protest.

"No, Ruth, you must see sense. I cannot bring myself to regret asking for your hand but the danger you – we – face is not the ordinary dangers a woman alone must fear. Lord Hunter has now twice tried to attack you, in his own household and yours. Your maid Beth is dead and neither of us doubt his intention when he cornered you in the garden alone. Please, be careful."

"Harry..." Ruth stared out the window at the passing hedgerows where rural women in their bonnets and aprons were gathering summer berries. Beyond, the boys in fields were weeding the crops before harvest time. She turned back to Harry, ready with a retort but was halted by the depth of the concern in his eyes. Through gritted teeth she backed down a modicum, "I shall be careful."

Harry stared at his wife for a long time. Steely grey eyes stared back at him with a fortitude he should have known to anticipate and then finally nodded. Seemingly satisfied, he gently laid his hand over her own and gently caressed it for much of the rest of the journey.

As they drew up in front of the large inn where Ruth and Harry would spend the night, Harry turned to his new wife before helping her out of the carriage. "I know I frustrate you sometimes. I am an old man and set in my ways. I have seen things which make me question God and my fellow men and everything else and in my former years my behaviour was not a credit to me. But I have never doubted you or the love I feel for you."

"I know," Ruth's brows drew together. Harry opened his mouth, it was as if he was trying to say something else but at that moment the door of the carriage was opened by a stable boy from the inn and Harry was obliged to exit and assist his wife down. Their things were quickly hurried inside by porters and as they exited the carriage the stable boys were already unfastening the horses to be led to the barn for food and water.

The inn they had chosen was modest but well appointed enough to make it an acceptable establishment for people of respectable standing to spend the night while journey across the country. The beds were generally clean and free of bugs. There was always plenty of logs by the fire, well-run stables for the horses and a pot of hot stew in the kitchen. With the warm balmy evenings of summer however, the fire had not been lit and there was still a hint of light in the sky as they entered the inn for a spot of supper.

"General and Lady Pearce," Harry told the man who greeted them. "We would like one room for the night plus supper and breakfast."

Ruth suppressed a smile at the request of a single room. Clearly Harry had no intention of sleeping apart tonight. Catching her eyes he seemed surprised by her scrutiny. "What?"

"You," Ruth hooked her hand around his arm.

Harry still seemed rather bemused as to what had caused his wife's mirth. He was hardly going to leave Ruth to her own devices in a strange tavern in a part of the world with which neither of them was familiar. As it was, they found that the food was humble but tasty and the bed was clean and comfortable enough to retire early. Ruth read by the fire for a while while Harry amused himself by writing a letter to a military acquaintence in Plymoth. When it came to be time to prepare for bed, Ruth glanced nervously towards Harry, wondering if she should call a maid to assist her with undressing.

"Harry," Ruth spoke up. She watched him put down his quill. "I require some assistance."

Sir Harry Pearce looked over at his new wife. "Would you like me to call you a maid?"

Ruth wavered over her decision. "Uh...well...I was thinking that since you're here already..." Ruth's nervous eyes darted around the room at her packing case, the dressing screen in the corner and the modestly sized bed that dominated the room and then back to her husband.

Harry waited for a moment, expecting Ruth to change her mind. His wife was naturally shy and not entirely used to his presence just yet. However when no further prevarication was forthcoming he rose slowly and took a step towards her. "I am of course at your service, Ruth, if I can be of any assistance."

The smile he received from Ruth in return for his words was a warm, welcome smile of relief and Harry was gratified to realise he had for once made the correct decision. As a man who had so often been quite sure of himself at war and in his professional life, Ruth Evershed had always had the capacity to throw him off rather and make him question himself in a manner to which Sir Harry was entirely unaccustomed.

They said very little after that. Sir Harry's gentle hands patiently worked at the myriad ribbons, ties and buttons that made up his wife's outfit and he helped her into a nightgown. He would have liked to have more time to spend intimately but a yawn cracked open her jaw and after a long day's travelling, Sir Harry bid her rest and soon joined her in bed himself. There would be time enough, he supposed, once they were on their honeymoon. Travelling was a tiring business and Ruth could be forgiven for feeling too exhausted for marital relations.

He must have drifted off with his thoughts, for when Harry awoke it was just getting light. A cockeral was crowing outside and downstairs a carriage was being prepared for another guest's departure. He came around to the sight of his wife, wrapped up in a house coat, ushering a maid in with a basin of warm water and towels. Harry's shaving kit was one of the things he was never without on his frequent travels with the military and once he had washed and shaved he felt rather more alive than he had upon waking. Wanting to make the most of the abundant summer daylight, Harry and Ruth helped each other dress and then had their things taken down and the carriage prepared while they headed down to the main room of the inn for a breakfast of bacon, eggs and fried bread. Sir Harry had coffee, Lady Ruth had tea.

With the fair summer weather and good roads, they made fine progress to Devon and by the end of the day the carriage was drawing into a fine sized modern cottage with two stories and a large garden overlooking the sea. A wall around the grounds protected it from the worst ravages of the British weather. The walls of the house and garden were graced with trained roses and apple trees and a small greenhouse bore a couple of hardy peach trees.

As they pulled in, the sun was setting over the ocean and Ruth gasped at the beauty of seeing the sea once more. "Oh, how I've missed it!"

"It is rather a fine cottage," Harry agreed. "Have you been here before?"

"The sea, Harry! I meant the sea!"

Harry chuckled, "Of course you did."

"The cottage belongs to a school friend. She's with her husband in Bath at the moment."

"Indeed," Harry mused, taking in the deserted surroundings. He had made the arrangements on his new wife's suggestion but was quite surprised at the isolated beauty of the place. "The town is, I believe, some miles away."

"Three miles, Harry, an easy distance to walk."

Ruth noted her husband looked slightly alarmed and tried not to be too amused at his horror of exercise. "Honestly, for someone who spent most of his life on exercises I do wonder at you sometimes. I have it on good authority that there are comfortable beds and a full pantry. What more could we want for a few days? And tomorrow, or the day after, we can walk into town if you like."

"And if I don't like?"

"Then I shall walk into town..."

"And I'll walk with you," Harry sighed, realising his wife had him by the balls. He had never quite come to appreciate exercise for its own sake. Exercise was a chore, like moving a camp full of soldiers. It was an effort to be minimalised wherever possible. The prospect of doing such a thing for pleasure was entirely beyond him but Ruth seemed determined to experience the outdoors while they were here. He supposed if France did declare war again, they might at least have the satisfaction of being the first to witness the invasion for the view over the channel from here was remarkably good.

"Will you?" Ruth looked faux surprised. "Walk with me?"

Harry wondered if this was his punishment for his concern, concern he knew she felt stifled by but he didn't know how turn it off. Ruth was so determined, so independent in spirit that her every move almost sent his heart into conniptions.

Beside Harry, Ruth leaned up on her tip toes and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. "That's very sweet of you, Harry."

Harry grumbled under his breath, which seemed to cause his wife some amusment. Well, at least one of them was getting some pleasure out of this.

True to their word, the pantry was indeed full and the beds made up. There were no permanent staff here, but it had been arranged that a girl from a nearby farm would come over for a couple of hours in the afternoon in order to do the housework. A gardener visited once a week, and other than that they would be left on their own. The prospect felt rather heavenly to Sir Harry and Ruth blossomed without the constant worry of societal pressure from London to worry herself over.

Over the coming days they fell into something of a routine. They slept late, helped each other dress and then raided the pantry for a cold breakfast. What remained of the morning was spent reading and writing correspondence, often in the garden if the weather was fair. Then there was lunch, simple fare they would prepare together and after a walk while the maid came and tidied the house and made dinner which was invariably waiting for them upon their return. They retired early and enjoyed the pleasures of a new relationship long into the night. A week spent like this spread into ten days before the pressures of time forced them to quit and head on to Bath some days later than planned.

The time spent cooped up in a carriage after the freedom of ten days with the run of the countryside felt rather confining to both and never before had the presence of their driver and household staff felt so confining. While at the cottage the staff had been sent on to Bath to see about confirming the readiness of their accomodation. Although the town was reportedly quite full, their connections had once more allowed the cards to fall in their favour. As they drew into Bath, Harry found himself questioned on the kindly landlord who had agreed to put them up for the rest of the summer.

"What did you say his name was again?" Ruth asked.

"Captain Tom Quinn."

"The name is familiar. Do I know him?"

"It is possible, I suppose."

"I can't seem to recall him," Ruth mused.

"Well, your father served predominently in the Med. Tom has never served there, to the best of my knowledge. He had an American sweetheart for a while thought I must confess I never like her, her connections were much too dangerous for someone in his position. I confess we rather fell out over it and he left the military some time after."

"Was she a prostitute?"

"Heavens no!" Harry exclaimed, "Whatever gave you that idea? No, she had political connections in Washington. I feared, rightly I think, that as much as there may have been affection between them that her primary loyalty would be to her family in Washington."

"What happened?"

"He shot me."

Ruth threw up her hands. "You mean to tell me, Harry Pearce, that we are staying at the house of the man who gave you that musket wound?"

"I've forgiven him, Ruth, and so should you. He was under a great deal of pressure at the time. With the progress of the war at such a crucial juncture it was considered more politically prudent to hush the whole thing up. Everyone was told it was a simple misfire and Quinn was allowed to resign his commission. In spite of everything, I do believe Captain Quinn to be a good man. We may disagree a great deal but I would never wish ill to him. I gave him a good reference and he found work with the East India Company which I think he finds much more agreeable. He is spending the summer in Plymoth this year, on business, and so the family house he has kept in Bath lies empty. It has until lately been rented out but the tenants outlived their means and were forced to quit."

Ruth mused on the fact that for someone who was such a recluse, her new husband really did seem to know half the country. A quiet hello here, a polite letter there, an enquiry after the wife and children in the corridor at Whitehall. He knew how to keep people sweet and Ruth wondered idly if that meant her as well. Was that what the display back in London had been about? If so he had terribly misjudged her. Or maybe he really did just want her looked after the way he saw fit.

The road was longer and dustier than they would have liked and so Ruth was relieved to arrive in Bath and gaze out at the magnificient architecture, much of it quite modern. In the last few decades new houses and public buildings had begun to spring up around the city and the modern style of architecture with tall ceilings and plenty of windows was something that Ruth considered most agreeable. She was still astonished, however, when the carriage made its way to the crowning glory of the city's recent architectural endeavours, the Royal Crescent.

Ruth floundered, her mouth opening and closing as the carriage pulled up to a stop in front of one of the most elegant and eligible residences in the ancient Roman city.

"Harry...what are we doing here?"

Harry said nothing but silently dismounted and put out his hand to assist his wife down from the carriage.

Ruth poked her head out and looked around at the magnificent splendour of the townhouses before her and wondered, for a moment, if they were about to visit some ancient Dowager Duchess drowning in more money than she knew what to do with. It was with some hesitance that Ruth eventually emerged onto the street. "Don't tell me, you have some elderly great Aunt who insists you visit the moment you get into town before you have even had time to relieve yourself."

Harry chuckled. A life with his new bride was proving to be very entertaining. "We're staying in that one," He pointed up the staircase to the nearest white front door.

Ruth threw an exasperated look at her husband, who blinked and stared back at her with an expression of innocence. It wasn't that Ruth wanted to be known as a nagging wife, but if she didn't know better, she was beginning to think that Harry was rather enjoying winding her up.

Beside her, Sir Harry leaned over and whispered in her ear. "If it will lay your mind at ease, you may find my financial ledgers waiting for you in the study."

Ruth blushed pink to the tips of her ears. "Am I that obvious?"

"I should like to enjoy our time together without you fretting unnecessarily. I think you will agree we have quite enough to worry ourselves over for the time being."

With the matter settled between them for now, Sir Harry offered his wife his arm and the two of them entered the townhouse to meet the household staff who were already waiting for them. The household was predominently made up of the skeleton staff who had been retained by Captain Quinn after the last tenant left, supplemented by those staff whom Sir Harry had sent ahead from London, headed by Callum. The inside was quite as oppulent as Ruth expected and the local staff knew what was expected of visitors of their status. The luggage was hustled inside with marked efficiency. Travel coats and boots were taken, indoor slippers found. The couple were shown to their respective bedrooms – the master bedroom and the adjoining suite where Ruth made herself comfortable. Warm water was waiting for her and a maid had laid out some of the clothes that had been sent ahead so that Ruth was able to wash and change into clean clothes after the journey.

The overseeing of a household of this size was something that Ruth was still trying to comprehend, but she found that the principles were much the same as they had ever been for her own, more modest household and as she was naturally so exacting in her expectation of both herself and everyone around her, Ruth was finding that she was becoming accustomed to speaking up about anything which did not meet the standards she expected. It was therefore simple for her to stare down the footman who queried whether it was appropriate for her to enter her husband's study. Once inside she found the ledgers where Sir Harry had promised them and asked for the housekeeper to be sent up in a quarter hour so that arrangements might be made to cover the expenses of their ongoing stay.

Under the oversight of the slightly disapproving local footman, Ruth sat herself down in the leather-seated chair behind the magnificent mahogany desk and opened the large tome in front of her to the most recent leaf.

A small squeak escaped her as her eyes took in the numbers sitting before her on the page.

In the doorway, the figure of an older man appeared and leaned against the doorway while Ruth perused the figures, flicking between pages until she knew the details inside out. As her expression softened, with a quiet wave of the hand the household servant was dismissed.

Ruth looked up, feeling Harry's presence before she saw him.

"So you see," Harry said quietly, not meeting her eye. "You need not worry yourself."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I thought that my reassurances would be sufficient for you. Discussing money is vulgar, Ruth and although I may be able to afford almost whatever I like, I have never felt the need to flaunt my wealth. I simply like nice things. A well made jacket, a warm house, good food."

It was true, Ruth considered, her husband had taste. It was a relief, however, even if slightly daunting, to realise that the taste and comforts of a good living could be enjoyed without worrying about outliving their means.

"My affairs will never be closed to you, Ruth," Harry continued quietly, "I trust you in all things. But I will not compromise on your comfort or security. Money is expendable; you are not. Can you understand that?"

It was not the words that moved Ruth, it was Harry's manner of relating them. He was not loud, he did not shout, he was quiet and resigned. It was an earnest plea from a man who didn't know what else to do and it was this, more than anything, which made Ruth realise the feeling with which Harry had instigated his demands.

"I have waited my entire life to meet you, Ruth. I could not bear to lose you now."

Swallowing back the rising emotion that took her somewhat by surprise, Ruth closed her eyes and nodded silently and then rose from the chair to meet her husband's eyes.

Across the room, Harry stepped forwards and reached out his hand. They met halfway, Ruth's hand sliding into his and they came together for a gentle kiss. Having spent many long hours sitting side by side unable to enjoy anything intimate for the duration of their journey, they were both eager for each other now that they had finally found time to be alone. Ruth may have not married a man who was in the first spring of youth but to Ruth herself he was as agreeable a husband as she could have asked for. Her hands gravitated towards his body and slid up his back, over the fine wool of his coat to press into his back.

Sir Harry's hands moved up to Ruth's face, cupping her cheeks and grasping at the pins in her hair to let it down.

Standing in the hallway, the exiled footman quietly reached around and closed the study door. The housekeeper, when she arrived, would just have to wait.