Author's Note: Firstly, name change. The usual problem of RL getting too close. Secondly, I would like to apologise for the gap in posting but I have to say that posts will probably not be as regular as they were for the first part of this story. I can only say that I'll write chapters and update when I can.

The engagement was announced a week later in The Times newspaper and much to General Pearce's chagrin he found himself forced to attend yet another dreaded social event upon the announcement of his upcoming nuptials. It was, unfortunately, William Towers himself who decided that such an event was required and therefore, barring an inopportune bout of illness, there was little that General Pearce could do to remove himself from the dreaded celebration. Worse still, Towers had consulted with Mr and Mrs Carter about the guest list and therefore General Pearce himself knew little of the guest list or the events of the evening.

Miss Evershed took great delight in teasing him about his hatred of such things. She had witnessed his attempts to excuse himself from dancing at many a ball in the first weeks of their acquaintance but had never had occasion to witness the growing scowl on her fiance's face as the supposed celebration drew closer. The only consolation that Miss Evershed could extend towards General Pearce was the reminder that, now the month of July was upon them, the Parliament would imminently be breaking up and the social season would soon be at a close for another summer.

Quite what they were going to do about the summer itself was a conversation that had yet to be resolved. Miss Reynolds, soon to be Mrs Hunter, had decided she would like to be wed from Bath so as to be closer to the little family remaining to her. Lance-Corporal Hunter had been agreeable to the suggestion and had requested Miss Evershed accompany her charge one last time in the absence of Miss Reynold's own mother who had died some years previously. Such a suggestion would not have been unwelcome had not the idea been interrupted by Miss Evershed's own engagement to Sir Harry Pearce. It was an unfortunate clash and while Miss Evershed and General Pearce were both very happy for the couple, even if others in society would not support it, they themselves had no wish to be caught up in the wedding of their good friends and shied away from the suggestion made by one of the servants that they celebrate a joint wedding. Had the familial relations been closer, two sisters perhaps, it would have been more appropriate but due to the distance in station, age and situation it was not felt by either General Pearce or Miss Evershed to be appropriate. They were both conscious of the fact that they were of more advanced years than the other couple and had no wish to invade upon – or be shadowed by – the younger couple.

A turn about the grounds of the Carter residence in the wake of an afternoon tea soon turned to the subject of the wedding and what to do about it. Malcolm had, of course, given his consent. Something that was all but a nominal gesture. He had requested the honour of performing the ceremony and Ruth entertained the idea of having the ceremony in his little parish church out beyond London. It was a small, ancient building well suited to its surroundings with a modest but loyal set of parishioners who doted on their quietly eccentric vicar.

"I just think we should wait until after the summer. Or at the very least until after Lance-Corporal Hunter and Miss Reynolds have had their wedding."

"Are you still set upon going to Bath," General Pearce asked earnestly. Were it up to him they would marry tomorrow, but he had no intention of becoming one of those husbands who habitually rode rough-shod over his wife's wishes. Patience did not come particularly naturally to Sir Harry, he was a man of action who had spent much of the last twenty years on campaign and when at war, between the battles there was still troop movements and supplies and many other things to consider. The organisation of the camp, the seemingly unlimited correspondence with the other officers, with the Navy, with the blockade at Brest and the other partners in the alliance against the Emperor. Then there was the looking after of the horses and the men, the constant worries about supply chains, discipline of the men and whether they had everything to get through the winter. It was a rare day where he was able to sit and wallow in his own thoughts.

Here in London however, the heat was getting to him. Or the changes in his personal life, perhaps. One way or another, General Pearce found it increasingly difficult to fathom what to do about Danny's father. He knew the prudent thing to do would be to discuss the matter with Lance-Corporal Hunter himself, but the prospect of Lord Hunter's betrayal raised the possibility of taking on the entire West India Lobby. Had not the government railed against the slavers, it might be argued, there would be no need of such economic under-handededness. The ending of the Slave Trade, the life's work of William Wilberforce and many others, was something that many people had thought would result in the end of the very institution of slavery itself. It was a rare plantation, given the short life expectancy of those unfortunate souls who laboured there, that was able to sustain itself without the constant fresh supply of slaves provided by the ships that crossed the Atlantic. Yet in spite of all this, new markets had been found. South America and her colonial powers had stepped in, eager to provide the precious and valuable commodity of human beings at an increased price when it was most needed. The rape of female slaves provided a constant if limited source of new human life and altogether in spite of enforcement by the Royal Navy slavery clung on in the British Caribbean. Was it such a surprise. It was a rare man of property in London who did not derive some income from the labour of slaves and many a widow and orphan survived on nought but income derived from that source, most often bequeathed to them in a will or otherwise settled upon them after their husband's death. The whole notion of slavery, while so widely accepted by so much of society as a justified economic necessity that put the black man in his rightful place was something that Sir Harry himself found a profoundly unsettling notion. Those who had lived in such jurisdictions for some time seemed to become inured to the practices and tortures that perpetuated the status quo and yet anyone coming in from the outside would find the reality of such things profoundly unsettling and shocking.

It was unfortunate for Miss Evershed that no such income or annuity had been bequeathed to her by her father. What property he had had been obtained by his efforts at war, his spoils. However after his debts had been paid there was very little left for Miss Evershed to support herself. With his own property being markedly greater and largely derived from the newly established London Stockmarket, General Pearce's intention was to immediately make a generous stipend available to his new wife, as soon as they were married. He would happily do it before they were married had Miss Evershed not been so strongly opposed to the suggestion. The notion, therefore, that they ought to put off the wedding was an unsettling one for him.

"Miss Evershed, might we not marry quietly before Miss Reynolds and Lance-Corporal Hunter make their vows. There is very little to be done and few people to invite. Altogether there cannot be more than a dozen, surely, whose presence we might desire."

"You would leave Miss Reynolds to Lord Hunter and his family, then?"

General Pearce shifted uncomfortably. "Miss Evershed, Zoe's guardian may be distant at times but he is a good man with the best of intentions."

"He is an absent man, too caught up in his own affairs to pay the attention to his ward to which she is due. Why should I not go to Bath as she requests."

"I am not suggesting that we should not go to Bath, Ruth, I am merely suggesting that we might go together. We might go to Bath after the wedding."

"I fail to see the difference, General Pearce."

General Pearce sighed heavily. "Because I might support you madam, because I might give you an allowance that would be more suitable for your station and better enable you to better support Miss Reynolds as well, because I might rent out an apartment for your comfort and security, because we might enjoy – or endure – the society in Bath over the Summer together and because I think you shall be just as qualified, if not more qualified, to support Miss Reynolds after our own union than before it. She is after all my God-daughter, Miss Evershed and I served for some years with Hunter. I am not completely alien to the challenges of the situation to which she has committed herself. Has it not occurred to you that I, too, should like to be there? And what do you imagine we should do without chaperones or company while we are there together? You know quite well I could not conscience doing anything further to harm your reputation beyond that which I have done already and Catherine is not presently able to travel. Until she comes out of mourning there is very little she can do."

Miss Evershed paused and stared off into the distance. "Marry before going to Bath?"

"That is my proposal, yes," Sir Harry pushed. Was she, he dared hope, about to acquiesce to his request?

"I'll consider it," Miss Evershed nodded.

Sir Harry let out a sigh of relief and his lips slid into a small smile, "Thank you." He knew Miss Evershed was the sort of person who had to weigh up all the options before coming to a decision about something. Harry could only hope that she would come to the same conclusion that he had.

"At least I may have some confidence that you can deal with some prudence with our financial affairs when required."

"Our financial affairs?" Ruth queried.

"Miss Evershed, as my wife you will have responsibility over my estate, a not inconsiderable estate I might add, whenever I am indisposed. I would not give you that responsibility if I did not think you were up to the task."

"O-of course. If that is your wish."

"It is. Much of my wealth is invested in the stock market. A certain amount is private wealth which is managed as gold, jewels and suchlike and the rest is predominantly the spoils of war."

Beside Sir Harry, Miss Evershed was wringing her hands, unsure if she was now entitled to challenge Sir Harry's ideas. As his wife her place would be to support him in whatever his decision was for her future, but he seemed interested in her input and so nervously built up the courage to speak her mind. "Its not that I'm opposed to the wedding, General. I'm not sure I like the idea of Bath for a honeymoon. I should prefer some place quieter. With fewer eyes," Ruth said, a blush rising to her cheeks. The newfound intimacy of marriage was something she was anticipating with both nerves and excitement. Sir Harry had, thus far, been nothing but gentle with her and as she made her suggestion he stopped and Ruth found herself once more under the warm, steady gaze of his mellow eyes.

In spite of having not actually formally agreed to the arrangement, Ruth soon found herself so immersed in preparation for the event that there was little doubt it would be going ahead as planned. Sir Harry had insisted that all expenses should be billed to him, something that filled her with trepidation the first few times she made the request at various shops. Now that the announcement had been made Ruth found for almost the first time in her life that people noticed her wherever she went. The new clothes that Sir Harry had illicitly paid for were a welcome addition to her aging wardrobe and Miss Evershed was able to walk out in society with some shred of dignity left, hoping against hope that no one had caught wind of either the assault by Lord Hunter or the impropriety around her spending a night at Sir Harry's lodgings.

Unfortunately for all concerned, the events around the maid Beth Bailey's death could not be concealed forever and when Miss Evershed entered her favourite glover's shop there was a gaggle of younger married women who fell silent as soon as she entered. They whispered amongst themselves, looking furtively in her direction while Ruth discussed her order with the shopkeeper and then approached as soon as the attendant left to prepare her order, insisting they had met at a ball some weeks previously. Miss Evershed turned the assertion over in her mind and was quite unable to recall the supposed meeting just as the ladies laid into her with a series of questions about her household, her maid's death and her betrothal to General Pearce. In the end Ruth dismissed them rather curtly as soon as her order was ready. She was grateful to see Callum waiting outside the door whereupon she offloaded her purchases into his arms and hastily exited the precinct.

With little to be done to pursue Lord Hunter until some sort of plan of action was formed, Ruth immersed herself in the household preparations. Sir Harry intended to move in as soon as the wedding ceremony was complete and there was much to be done. Her father's bedroom and study had largely gone untouched since his passing. It had simply been too difficult for Ruth to contemplate changing them in any regard. Yet the forthcoming nuptials gave her a sense of purpose that she had previously lacked, enabling her to focus on the minutiae of practicalities to be sorted. Sir Harry's things would mostly be brought over in the week leading up to the wedding, which was to be in Malcolm's small parish in East Sussex. With no family of her own remaining, it had been agreed that Malcolm's mother would assist her on the morning before the wedding.

Neither Miss Reynolds nor Lance-Corporal Hunter would be in attendance, nor would the distant guardian Mister Lucas North be present, nor the Right Honourable William Towers or any other member of the government or monarchy. Mr and Mrs Carter, alone, were to travel down for the wedding and witness the ceremony. Ruth felt rather self-conscious about the whole thing and was not sorry that the congregation would be so small. As it happened, she thought she preferred it that way. The peculiar nature of their social circles being as it was primarily military and government acquaintances, would necessitate inviting a whole slew of the ruling class whom neither desired to be present on such an important day. Furthermore, with no one invited, no one could be offended that they had not received an invitation. After Miss Reynolds had decided she did not presently wish to travel, Ruth had declared to Sir Harry that there was no one further to whom she wished to extend an invitation. She found herself rather surprised by the way in which Sir Harry jumped upon the proposal. Catherine, being as she was in mourning, could not attend and Graham unfortunately could not be relied upon in any respect. Ruth had yet to meet the man who would soon become her step son and yet neither Sir Harry himself nor Miss Catherine Pearce appeared to consider that a bad thig, which particularly bemused Miss Evershed for she was perfectly aware of the reputation of the man and had already begun wondering what to do about the boy.

As she sat in her bedroom perusing the letter that asserted this very thing, Miss Ruth Evershed paused a moment to run her hands over the distinctive handwriting of her beloved. Her attendance at his offices had ceased since their betrothal, however Sir Harry had called upon her every two or three days whereupon they fell into the habit of taking a short walk in the local park. Sometimes they would walk arm in arm in silence, admiring the scenery and the weather and the ducks on the pond. Sometimes Sir Harry enquired about her comfort and the preparations and whether or not Miss Evershed would be agreeable to the addition of a small dog to the household. In between visits there was a regular supply of letters and Miss Evershed had grown to think of their correspondence with particular fondness. Both Sir Harry and herself had difficulty in expressing their feelings out loud and so their letters took on a new meaning when Sir Harry had begun filling his letters with declarations the like of which would never have escaped his lips. It was gratifying to know how dear he held her in his heart and yet that very notion seemed to cause him much surprise.

Miss Evershed herself had, for some time, been most strongly attracted to the General. As a rule those few men to whom she had formed some sort of attachment in the past had all been older than her, but it was more than the relative age of the parties. General Pearce in spite of his violent life carried himself with a gentleness and a warmth which melted her heart when he chose to direct it towards her person. His soft rounded features contrasted with his weather-worn skin, he was a physical man, a man of action with a broad chest and strong physical person and she found comfort in his presence. In truth, Ruth had never experienced an attraction quite like it, had never felt her stomach flutter with nerves in the hours before an anticipated visit, had never felt herself lost for words when he looked at her in a particular way and had never had such a strong desire to be in someone's physical presence.

Downstairs the doorbell rang and Ruth put down the latest of his letters and rushed downstairs to answer it herself, leaving Callum standing in the kitchen doorway as she threw open the front door to find Sir Harry standing there.

"General Pearce!"

"Miss Evershed," Sir Harry stepped forwards, his pace the picture of concern, "You are out of breath," He laid a hand on her waist and sought to usher her towards the front room. Ruth instead took the opportunity of his open arm to step closer towards his person, laid her hands on his chest and tilted her head up to press her lips against his.

Quite surprised by the gesture, Sir Harry allowed her to kiss him, enjoying the sensation of his hand wrapped around her waist until he couldn't stop the grin that broke out onto his face forcing his lips to break from hers.

"I'm quite alright, I assure you," Ruth insisted. Her heart was so light in that moment that she felt twenty years younger. "I was eager to see you, General Pearce."

"And I you," He smiled towards her with a small, formal bow. "Good morning, Miss Evershed."

Ruth broke away just far enough to curtsy in return, a small smile playing on her face in return. "Good morning, General Pearce."

"Let us go into the Drawing Room and discuss plans for the wedding. Would that be agreeable to you?"

They married as soon as Parliament broke up for the summer, a stunning summer day in July with the ladies in light linen dresses and short sleeves. General Pearce wore his best uniform, his buttons shining in the shafts of sunlight. Malcolm looked sharp in his vestments. His mother had been terribly kind to Ruth, enjoying the chance to have a daughter to dote on if only for one day. At one point Malcolm's mother had attempted to discuss the wedding night with her, whereupon Ruth had abruptly cut in to inform her that such a conversation would not be necessary. The night before the wedding had been sleepless for both Miss Evershed and Sir Harry in nervous anticipation. The morning dawned bright and sunny and Ruth and Sir Harry emerged from the old stone church with huge grins on their faces. Children threw rice and rose petals as they made their way down the path to the waiting carriage.

The journey back to London was a long one. Ruth was expecting to feel different, now that she was married but as the hedegrows and countryside passed before them Ruth had to conclude that she felt as she ever did, apart from the obvious fact that she was now sharing her life with the man she loved. She had to admit, however, that the thought of intimacy with her new husband at once terrified her and sent thrills of anticipation through her body. She looked over at him now, as they rattled through the country lanes on the way back to London and found that he was smiling softly, watching her.

"Sir?"

"Harry," He corrected. "I realise it is somewhat modern, Madam, but I think we are sufficiently intimate now to call each other by our Christian names."

"Of course...Sir Harry."

"Harry," Harry said again. "If I may call you Ruth?"

"Harry," Ruth corrected herself. It sounded very strange on her tongue. It was strange, indeed, to think of herself as being married to such a man. She was a mother now, a mother to Catherine and Graham who her husband had thus far contrived to ensure was always indisposed whenever Ruth asked to make his acquaintance.

"I did have a thought, you know, Ruth. I thought how pleasant it might be to spend some time over the summer by the sea. It looks like the weather this year might be really quite nice. I haven't been at sea for pleasure since I was a lad and it really is quite nice to look at. What do you think?"

"How do you feel about Devon?" Ruth asked.

"Do you know it well?"

"I spent much of my childhood in Exeter. It was close enough to Plymouth to travel when father was home. I was very happy there. Do you know it?"

"Only by reputation. What is it like?"

"Wild. Beautiful. There's Dartmoor within a day's travel, the beaches are very scenic, there are pretty English villages with their greens and their cricket pavillions."

"Cricket!" Harry exclaimed with excitement. "I haven't had a decent game of cricket in years!"

"Oh dear," Ruth muttered.

"What?"

"I see your plan now. I am to be a cricket widow for the summer," Ruth said.

"A cricket widow?"

"I am teasing you, husband. I can eat cucumber sandwiches at the edge of the outfield and read the latest works of the natural sciences. Only last week my old tutor, Mrs Margaret Bryan of Blackheath, wrote me enclosing a fascinating paper by Mister Ewart, 'On the measure of moving force'. With your permission, of course."

Sir Harry laid his hand on his wife's hands which were currently wringing together and settled them. "My dear, I am a soldier. I have been so all my life. I am perfectly aware of your superior education and it may be the case that oftentimes I may not have the slightest idea what you're talking about, but I will not have you thinking I would prefer a stupid wife. You have my permission to read as much as you like only," Harry dropped his voice, "Be so good as to inform me as to anything of questionable legality at some point. We may need to hide them."

Ruth giggled. "Harry, I am quite sure I don't possess anything of the sort!"

"Really. How disappointing," Harry pouted. "I shall have to buy you some then. I have quite good connections, you know."

Silence settled in between them and they watched the world go by with the steady rhythm of horses hooves on the compacted dirt of the old country roads. After a while the countryside gave way to villages, which gave way to towns, which gave way to the great City of London. By the time they arrived at Ruth's townhouse it was nearly nightfall. Sir Harry Pearce's things had been brought over by the servants from his rooms in Whitehall and Catherine had been so good as to send a few extra staff to get everything in order before the new master arrived to reside for the first time.

As soon as their carriage pulled up outside the house burst into action, a bustle of activity, of servants running up and down stairs, stoking the fires and ensuring the correct placement of the best polished silver. Ruth was quite astonished at the transformation. She hardly noticed Callum opening the door for the newlywed couple. The rugs in the hallway had been cleaned and beaten. The floors polished to a brilliant shine. The dust was gone, the metal fixtures - from the lamps to the door handles - glistened in the candlelight. Gone were the short tallow candles Ruth had made do with since her father's death and in their place wax candles sat alight in every available candle holder. Silverware dishes and candelabras had appeared in the dining room which was set with new linens and napkins.

"I took the liberty of adding a few things to the household for the sake of our comfort."

"A few things..." Ruth said, the words almost lost to her as she stared around in wonder.

"Some silverware, some household linens. Catherine and Mrs Carter arranged for a selection of the household staff at my late wife's home to assist here in order to make everything ready. I have also the intention of renovating the small stables at the end of the lane which I believe comes with the property. We shall have to go to the horse market at some point and purchase a mare for you."

"Harry..."

"You dislike it," Harry clenched his fists. He had been afraid of this very thing, that his wife was used to her house being a certain way. Dusty, disordered, cold. It was not the living she deserved but he was prepared to be stubborn on the matter.

"I do not dislike it, I am only concerned about the money."

"We can discuss our household finances in the morning. Suffice it to say that you need not concern yourself that wax candles and enough firewood to light the fires is beyond our means and as my wife, Lady Pearce, you shall have the comforts to which you are entitled. There shall be wax candles in the candlesticks and we shall light every fire place at night. We shall repaint the masonry and the railings where it is peeling and at some point I even intend to persuade you to allow someone to dust your beloved books. We shall fix up the mews in the lane and employ sufficient staff to look after our comforts. A budget of a few hundred a month should suffice but we can look at that again once I have the receipts for expenses."

"A few hundred?" Ruth gasped. "A month!"

Harry, with some amusement, curled a finger under his wife's chin and nudged her jaw closed.

Ruth glared at him. On the one hand it was rather flattering to have so much money spent on her. At the same time having such expenses to hand was not something to which she was accustomed and it was rather alarming to think of the cost, evening knowing that Sir Harry was quite wealthy.

"Well, at least I know now you didn't marry me for my money!" Harry joked. He took off his travelling cloak and handed it to the nearest male servant. "Lady Pearce will need assistance with her boots."

"I'm fine," Ruth insisted.

"You are a Lady and I shall have my wife act as one," Harry insisted. "Ruth, I am aware that you are accustomed to doing much by your own hand but I shall at the very least expect you to cooperate with a ladies maid."

Ruth let out a short sharp sigh that announced her displeasure but as absurd as the idea seemed to her, she consented to sit down in one of the chairs that had appeared in the hallway since she had last been at home and allowed a female servant to remove her boots and replace them with indoor slippers while in another chair directly opposite, her new husband replaced his boots with soft leather shoes and requested a few minutes to freshen up from the road before dinner.

Finally alone in her room, Ruth was able to lie back on her bed and enjoy the peace and solitude of her own comfortable abode. In here, at least, everything was as much as it ever was. The sheets on the bed were fresh and well-laundered and Ruth pressed her cheek against the cool linens. She had five whole minutes of solitude before one of the new household servants came bustling in with a bowl of warm water and a towel and asked her what she would like to wear for dinner. Ruth sighed a heavy sigh. It had been a long day and it would be some time still before she could retire and even longer, she suspected, before she could sleep. This was to be Sir Harry's strategy then, to wear her out before they had even got as far as the wedding night!

Dinner was served in the dining room at eight o'clock and to own the truth, Ruth had never realised her own home could look quite so grand. The drapes looked quite different now they had been washed thoroughly. Empty spaces on the walls were now filled with gold-framed pictures of the sea and Ruth was sure she had glimpsed one or two by Mister Turner. Of course, her husband owned the property now and she should have expected him to dispose of it as he saw fit. She had just not expected him to take charge quite so swiftly. Or with so much money.

"You are thinking very loudly, Lady Pearce. Is the soup not to your liking?"

"The soup is quite lovely, Sir Harry. I was only thinking on the remarkable change in the property since I departed for Sussex not two nights ago."

"Ruth, I am sorry to have gone over your head so, but I want to see you living in comfort. I did not wish an argument over every tallow candle and dusting rag."

"I would not have argued over every dusting rag," Ruth replied, making an effort to sip her soup. On the one hand her stomach was telling her it was hungry. On the other hand her insides were in such knots over the unexpected state of the house and the events of the night to come that she found it difficult to swallow the slightest morsel of food.

Instead of appearing angered at his wife's disagreement, or descending into an argument, Sir Harry's expression betrayed a certain sort of amusement at this expression of her character.

"Do you know, I was thinking as we came into London this afternoon that Exeter is not far from Bath. Within easy travelling distance, certainly."

Ruth looked up with interest.

"Just a thought," Harry smiled, knowing Ruth was thinking of Miss Reynolds and her wedding to Mister Hunter. In truth, as the girl's Godfather he could not very well absent himself from the proceedings and if the nuptials coincided with the possibility of having a few private weeks in the country with his new wife then the event could only be agreeable to all concerned.

"I could write to some friends and make enquiries about a suitable residence. There are plenty of friends who would happily welcome us into our home but I suspect you would prefer that we rent somewhere for a few weeks."

"I would," Harry agreed.

"I shall see to it after dinner," Ruth said.

"You shall see to it tomorrow. You are exhausted from the day's travels," Harry told his wife. "You shall need your rest."

Once more, Ruth frowned at being over-ruled. It was, she knew, nothing worthy of complaint. Every disagreement had so far been over her welfare but she was growing concerned that Sir Harry had every intention of wrapping her in swaddling clothes and never letting her do the slightest of things.

The rest of the dinner was marvellous. It had been a long time since Ruth had been able to afford such excellent cuts of meat, nor had she ever had such delicious food served on such an exquisite service. After a main course of beef there was a final course of summer fruits and then the port. Harry indicated that he should like her to sit with him instead of withdrawing but apart from a few items of smalltalk, very little was said between them. A footman that Ruth had never set eyes on before in her life served them through dinner and cleared their things away. Ruth stared at the walls, at her hands, at anywhere but Harry. Apart from his gentle hand on hers in the carriage they had hardly touched all day and it was difficult to think now, after such distance between them, of what must come next once they had retired.

"I wondered if I might go up and read for a while, Harry," Ruth said quietly.

"Hmm?" Harry had been lost in his own thoughts but looked up at Ruth's expectant face and nodded. "Of course, Ruth."

The way in which he addressed her was yet another point that stuck in Ruth's mind. On the one hand it was a marker of intimacy to address one another by one's Christian names. On the other hand, there had been no terms of endearment between them. Not a single 'dear' or 'my darling' as she might have expected. Yet as she rose to take her leave Harry called her over and stared at her with such a look of adoration, that Ruth wondered how she could have ever doubted his feelings. She leaned in slightly and when her husband made no objection, pressed her lips against his.

"Ruth, you're shaking."

"Its nothing."

Harry sighed and took her hand. "Ruth, you need not make yourself nervous about tonight. We have both had a long day and we have the rest of our lives to become familiar with each other. If you would permit me, however, I should like to visit you for a while. Would that be agreeable to you?"

"Yes, Harry."

"I'll see that the house is locked up and follow you shortly."

Ruth curtsyed and Sir Harry watched his wife depart, listening to her footsteps on the staircase and up to the room that lay directly above his head. In the quiet as the servants silently went about their work, clearing up after dinner and sorting out the kitchen, extinguishing candles and closing the shutters on the windows. Deciding to let them get on with their work, Sir Harry stood and removed himself from the dining room. He climbed the stairs and found his wife's door closed although there was the murmur of quiet conversation between Ruth and Jo, the only servant that Ruth would conscience taking the position of her new ladies maid. After loitering for a moment in the hallway, Sir Harry approached his new bedroom and opened the door.

The former sleeping quarters of Admiral Evershed were finely appointed. Oak panels that had begun to darken lined the walls below the dado rail. The upper parts of the walls were painted a slightly pinkish white that Harry detested. The appointment of the house indicated that Admiral Evershed had clearly gone to some expense to try and portray the sort of lifestyle that many senior officers felt they had to be seen to be living. The fact that such a lifestyle might be beyond the modest wages of a military officer was probably a contributing factor in the difficult financial situation in which his wife had found herself before their nuptials. Yet it was still sound and needed only a little updating. This room, unfortunately, was a touch damp. The fire had clearly not been lit for some time but Sir Harry was confident that will a little regular use the room would soon be warm and welcoming again and he had a thought to consult Ruth on decorating the upper parts of the wall with the sort of steam-pressed wallpaper that he had seen in France last year.

Callum arrived, having checked the doors and windows were locked and he carried with him a decanter of Sir Harry's favourite whisky and a cut crystal tumbler. He sipped it as Callum helped him undress and when Callum turned away to deal with Sir Harry's clothing – hanging the jacket, folding the breeches, taking the dirty shirt to be washed - Sir Harry slipped into a nightshirt and gown and lit the bedside candle from the fixture on the wall. With Callum gone, Sir Harry finished his nightcap, blew out the lights and padded barefoot down the hall with his nightlight. He tapped gently on the door.

"Enter." Ruth's voice. She was alone.

Sir Harry turned the handle and stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him.