Mistress Agnes

by Kirsten Bij't Vuur

  'He will, he is looking forward very much to meeting you. I suspect he reads your books as well, he said they were very exclusive and made to order only.

  I'm impressed, ma'am.'

  While he was talking, the lieutenant had led Agnes to a little neat building where he pointed out a privy and a little private space with a pitcher and ewer and a nice thick towel.

  'I'll wait for you to finish, ma'am, it's very easy to get lost here the first time around, and a hundred yards in any direction the men are not the type you'd want to associate with. Please take as much time as you need, I'm used to standing guard, I don't get bored.'

  But Agnes did hurry for she was hungry, and eager to get the meeting with the colonel over with. The lieutenant obviously had no clue what her books were about, but if the colonel had been reading them he might have very uncomfortable ideas about Agnes. Though she supposed a colonel would not stoop to adultery by forcing himself on a woman, no matter how titillating her books were.

  Refreshed, she readily found the lieutenant, and he smiled at her again, then led her to a square, utilitarian building a few yards down. A guard challenged him, and he replied business-like.

  'Lieutenant Harley reporting with a guest for the colonel.'

  The man disappeared for a moment, then returned and let them in, addressing Agnes politely.

  'The colonel is waiting for you, Mrs Beauchamp. He wants to have a word with you, too, lieutenant.'

  The room they entered through a short hall, with bare walls made of fine quality wood, was also rather bare in a military style. But Agnes soon saw the desk at the end was even finer than her own, solid oak and very beautifully made. There were two chairs on her side, and one comfortable one on the other, and the expected military parafernalia, a flag, a painting of the king, a few ornamental weapons, an ancient sword and shield that looked Celtic in design, and a modern rifle on the opposite side. There was a single cabinet in the same superb quality of the desk.

  The colonel was in his fifties and rather handsome still, with an impressive amount of grey hair, styled severely, and a matching grey moustache. His uniform of course was splendid, and he walked upright. But most

  importantly, he seemed rather friendly, and he was as excited about meeting Mrs Beauchamp, writer of naughty novels, as the lieutenant had told her to expect.

  He walked towards her with both hands extended, as if planning to greet her much more familiarly than the situation called for. But that wasn't a surprise to Agnes, somehow readers always had a feeling they knew her, she was used to it by now and readily accepted his taking her hand in both his, and kissing it gently.

  'Mrs Beauchamp! I finally get to meet you! My wife will be so very jealous of me, she devours your books, she has all of them, all bound in pink leather with gold lettering. She proudly displays them, doesn't care a whit what others say about it, either in her face or behind her back. She cannot wait for your next book to arrive. I was hoping maybe you could write one with a military setting, it would be such a thrill. I can lend you a friendly officer to answer all your questions, and you may write me for details. Please do!

  Oh, by the way, I'm Colonel Richards, my friends call me Markus.'

  It wasn't even a bad idea, there was the drive back home yet to come, she might ask some questions of the lieutenant and his mates, though of course she could always ask Dennis. A story about a private? It was not what the colonel would expect, but there was a lot of scope for imagination in it.

  'I'm glad to hear your lady wife likes my books, Colonel Richards, you know I don't live that far away from here, she can visit if she likes.'

  'Thank you, ma'am, that is very kind of you. My wife does not live hereabouts, though, she lives on my estate down south, with our children. But she does visit, next time she is in the neighbourhood I'm going to send someone over to beg for an audience with you.'

  That was pretty sad, to live hours away from one's loved ones.

  'Please do, Colonel, and thank you for handing me an excellent idea, I am currently writing on my next book but it is not uncommon to have the idea for the book after that at hand, to ripen, so to speak. I'd love to take you up on your offer to delve in the mind of an officer. There must be heart-rending stories in there, and plenty of opportunities for some naughty interludes.'

  'Yes, yes, you are so right! Take Harley here, he was missing in action in France, and his girl thought she'd never see him again. He was still a private then. But another private did not give up on him and risked his life to retrieve him from enemy territory in a daring raid. That girl is now your wife, isn't she, Harley?'

  The lieutenant showed a mixture of tenderness and sadness as he replied, 'I married Hester when we returned, sir. But the private who saved me was lost on the moors some two years later, Mrs Beauchamp, such a tragedy. Though I suppose that is what makes the best stories, a mixture of romance, gallantry, heroism and tragedy.'

  'Why Harley, you can write a novel yourself! I never knew you were so eloquent!'

  And he could go right on stage, such a talented actor, looking sad when he knew his fried still lived. Agnes was actually starting to enjoy this, but when she thought of Dennis under fire, not even twenty years old, broken to army life with a whip, saving his comrade from the battlefield, she managed to keep from smiling.

  'I'm intrigued, colonel, lieutenant. I'd like to hear more of this story, if someone who knows it can take the time to tell me. I do like the idea of an army setting, though I wonder whether it would be appreciated by the war office, since my books always contain certain scenes they might not like to be associated with.'

  'No problem! No problem at all! What you write may be shocking to sheltered souls in the country or rich town houses, but not to army folk, ma'am. Most of the privates are not gentle folk, and some of them are pretty rough. Officers like lieutenant Harley, who have risen through the ranks, have shared their lives with them for several years. Even I have had my share of miserable wet camps side by side with the lowliest privates, and have talked with them on all kinds of subjects. Times are changing, the classes are growing closer together, and the war office wants it that way. Division and class justice made our army vulnerable to the French, and we needed to conquer that before we could defeat the emperor.

  But enough rhetoric! Please follow me to my humble dining-room for lunch, you must be hungry. We'll talk business over sausages and beans, we all eat the same fare here, ma'am.

  Harley, have your own lunch, then wait outside. Or wait, no, better lunch with us, you can entertain Mrs Beauchamp with stories from the field, and you know more about this business we're supposed to discuss than I. I value your input. You know how to use knife and fork well enough not to disgust a true lady, don't you?'

  The lieutenant was not insulted by this allusion, it must have been a jest, for Harley was obviously a gentleman. He looked very flattered, mostly. Agnes

  supposed he had not expected to be asked to stay for lunch, and she was very happy to have him herself, he could lead her away from dangerous subjects if she were to stray, or if the colonel would ask her dangerous questions, though Agnes expected the man to talk mostly of her books, a fortunate circumstance.

  'Indeed I am a very civilised eater, sir. And if I talk too much you may kick me under the table.'

  See, that was jesting. Sometimes Agnes thought she'd never understand men's humour, and of course in the army it would be more pronounced, since few of these men had much to do with ladies.

  The dining-room was next to the office and it was indeed plain, and the food was as plain as Agnes expected army fare to be, but it was fresh and tasty, and bland enough not to upset her stomach. There was enough to feed three, though a young boy brought an extra plate before making himself scarce.

  'Good,' the colonel said, 'business first. Harley here tells me you did not only spare him the effort of finding and apprehending some of my men wreaking havoc on the local population, you also spent considerable resources on food, p
rotection and a doctor for the duped families. Is that the extent to which your charity extended, for I understand these weren't even your own tenants?'

  'They were not, Colonel, but they live virtually next door to my tenants. I could so easily have been my people that were hit. I did also hire a nurse to take care of the womenfolk: they had all been brutally violated and were suffering from shock and some sickness. I judged a man less suitable to help them.'

  The colonel hung his head and spoke less forcefully than she'd heard him so far.

  'Will men ever change for the better, Mrs Beauchamp? I'm glad you thought to help them in this way, we might not have, being men ourselves. Since we are responsible for the suffering of these farmers and their families, we will reimburse you all your expenses, ma'am. I am afraid we cannot prevent these occurrences altogether, but we will heighten our security from inside the camp, and monitor the mood of the men more closely. Anything else?'

  Agnes thought this summed up everything she had done quite neatly and said so, but the lieutenant interfered.

  'A servant of Mrs Beauchamp's was hurt, sir. He has broken his hand catching a blow with a club.'

  'The giant, right? I've heard of him, must have been from you, Harley. Shy, but strong enough to incapacitate a hardened private. So he did break his hand, poor chap. We'll have to have him see the best possible surgeon, hands are difficult to heal well. Do not hesitate to see a specialist in town, ma'am. If you want to dismiss him we'll pay him the compensation so he can set up somewhere else.'

  Dismiss Dick? Because he wanted to protect Agnes' dog?

  The colonel smiled and said soothingly, 'I can see you're outraged with the very idea, I'm glad to see that. But it does happen, ma'am, sadly. I guess I'll give you the compensation then, to hire a replacement until he is back to strength. You're not looking very hopeful, is he that bad?'

  'No, Colonel, he is not, the doctor said he had every chance to get back full use, if he does not work for six weeks. He is slow of wit and feels useless already, I'm afraid he will not heed instructions.'

  'Too bad he isn't a soldier, we just order them to do something and are obeyed. Though I'm sure he'll obey a strict order, you do not look like a mistress to trifle with. I was going to offer him a token of my appreciation, have Harley deliver it to him. Do you want him to accompany it with a horror story from the camp? We see plenty of broken limbs here, as you can imagine, Harley can deliver a stringent warning what will happen if one strains a healing break. Take that friend of yours, the crippled quartermaster.

  I know he couldn't help it, being in France and under fire, but the sight of a break healed wrong will teach the lad a lesson he'll never forget.

  A look from the lieutenant proved this was one of the friends he had been planning to take along anyway.

  'Now, Mrs Beauchamp, I hope that concludes the business part of your visit.

  Please tell me how you make your heroes so very life-like. I've tried my wife's other romances, but those men are made of new cheese or even butter, they lack spice, or are arrogant without having earned the right to be so. Your men are like real men, a mixture of good and selfish, or of good and a tad aggressive. They have flaws that they will not ever overcome, they just try their damnedest to keep them contained, as we all do for our little wives. I've heard you are on the brink of marriage yourself?'

  Agnes swallowed hard, then answered, 'Yes, Colonel, you heard right. My beloved husband died three years ago, and it has taken me a long time to meet a man I could love as well as I did Frederick.'

  The man opposite her nodded, 'Mr Beauchamp was a good man, I never

  heard anything but good of him. It's a rare privilege to find true love twice, I'm glad for you, and I suppose you would not have settled for less.'

  Despite the danger of the colonel asking the wrong question, it was nice to find him truly sympathetic.

  'Indeed, sir, I would not have re-married just to have a man. My marriage has given me independence, and I value it beyond anything else. You may be shocked to hear that my current fiancée did not want to get married at first, he considered himself beneath me and did not want to risk having to manage an estate. But when I turned out to be with child he relented, knowing that if the worst happened, he'd only have to keep everything together until the child came of age.

  Mr Beauchamp and I never had a child, you see. This babe, be it girl or boy, will inherit everything I own.'

  'Well, I have heard an excellent report on your Mr Parker, ma'am, Harley here tells me he is a real gentleman, well-mannered, soft spoken, but not weak or indolent. In some marriages, responsibility is shared more equally between husband and wife, and Harley here tells me it works for him. So there you have it, it can be done. I wish you good luck, and I hope you will accept my offer to delve into a soldier's mind to make your next story contain true hardship and heroism, I'm sure you'll do very well writing that.'

  'With your permission, sir,' Harley now grabbed the opportunity, 'I would accompany Mrs Beauchamp home to hand her giant servant both your token of appreciation and your dire warning. If she doesn't mind having me in her carriage, she can also pick my mind for an interesting plot. I'd like to see my life's experiences put into print, even if it's just a small one.'

  Suddenly, Agnes had a stunning revelation. What if she aimed for a larger print, just this once? Try to go for a larger audience, under a pseudonym, male of course? Could she pull that off, honour those soldiers by telling their story? She'd certainly consider doing just that.

  Colonel Richards sent her an inquiring look, to which she replied, 'I'd be pleased to have a chance to talk to Lieutenant Harley a little more. I've promised him I'd write a statement for the trial, and have my fiancée write one. We'll have that ready for him to take back to the camp. Maybe he can take Dick's statement himself.

  Thank you for the lunch, Colonel Richards, it's very heartening to see you're not feasting on dainties but have the same excellent fare your men are provided with. My cook makes the most outrageous dishes, but since I found

  myself with child I prefer less seasoned food.'

  'Will you give me another hour to chat about your books before you leave? It will give the lieutenant time to warn his friend and pack, and my quartermaster a chance to calculate your reimbursement and prepare it for you to take home with you. With an escort of officers you will be perfectly safe.'

  'Thank you very much, Colonel. I have my financial advisor along, maybe your man can arrange things with Guy? I suppose Lieutenant Harley knows where he is at this moment.'

  They retreated back to the office, where the colonel wrote a note for Lieutenant Harley to take to the colonel's staff. The lieutenant left, and Agnes settled in one of the chairs to talk of her books.

  Colonel Avery had indeed read them all, and they spent a very pleasant hour discussing plots, heroes and heroines, researching cultures and landscapes, and he wanted to know all kinds of practical things about publishing and distributing her work.

  'So you've never been to France yourself, you just read travel journals and French literature to get an idea of how people live out there.'

  'Yes, and I've bought several books with prints of landscapes, sometimes I use a single painting of a landscape as a setting. Of course it's more sensible to set a story in a place one knows, but not nearly as interesting. But I suppose my readers are generally more interested in the action instead of the exact description of a vineyard or a colonial outpost.'

  When the hour had passed, Lieutenant Harley returned to say all was ready, and Agnes took leave of the colonel. They shook hands like comrades, and the colonel said, 'Well, I'm sorry we can't talk books much longer, but we both have places to be. Thank you very much, Mrs Beauchamp, for a delightful time. I wish you an excellent journey, and a happy wedding. I'd like to meet Mr Parker some day, though I have little time for social calls.'

  He bowed deeply, and Agnes returned the courtesy, she had truly enjoyed herself, though of course she knew h
e should never meet Dennis. If Mrs Richards ever planned to visit, Mr Parker would be in town for a few weeks.

  'Thank you very much for your kind reception and your reimbursement of the damages. I appreciate your motives, and I understand these things happen in a camp this size. Your soldiers are all heroes to me. Good bye, Colonel Richards!'

  Lieutenant Harley offered Agnes his arm and she took it. The carriage was waiting right in front, John with the horses and Guy waiting at the door.

  'Glad to see you, Mrs Beauchamp,' Guy offered. 'I've been given a substantial amount of money by an important looking fellow, I suppose that was why you were asked to come here. They fed us well, and the horses were taken care of, too. I suppose I'm to ride on the box with John since you're expecting guests inside?'

  'Please, Guy. I'll be safe enough inside. These men were Dennis' friends.'

  And so Agnes let Lieutenant Harley hand her into the carriage, after which he got in himself.

  'I've given your driver instructions how to get to the part of the camp where my friends are waiting for us. I'll introduce you to them once they're inside, we do not want to have the whole camp gossiping about them getting into the Beauchamp carriage, I hope you don't object.'

  Agnes could only laugh helplessly.

  'I have more to lose here than anyone except Dennis himself. I merely hope you know what you are doing. Though I admit you have a legitimate reason to visit. The colonel seems to have a lot of faith in you, Lieutenant Harley.'

  'Things have changed in this camp since he was promoted to replace our former colonel. Officers are now chosen from the ranks and no longer commissioned. I suppose there weren't enough second and third sons left, and some of those never did measure up in the field. Your man would have been an excellent officer, but he never got the chance. He was younger than any of us and had three times our combat experience, having joined even before coming of age. His battalion had seen the worst of the fighting, and still they sent the survivors back out as soon as they could walk and hold a rifle. The others have been in France, but only the one campaign, Dennis saw four, and not a single man of his first unit was still alive. Ah, here we are.'