JК
Sharpes Havoc :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 89 из 242Harper shot two of the captured dragoon horses and butchered them down into cuts of meat that could be carried, then he put Hagman on another of the horses to make certain he would be able to ride it without too much pain and Sharpe told Kate she must ride another and she protested, saying she could not travel without a chaperone and Sharpe told her she could make up her own mind. „Stay or leave, ma’am, but we’re going tonight.”
„You can’t leave me!” Kate said, angry, as if Sharpe had not kissed her and she had not allowed the kiss.
„I’m a soldier, ma’am,” Sharpe said, „and I’m going.”
And then he did not go because that evening, at dusk, Colonel Christopher returned.
The Colonel was mounted on his black horse and dressed all in black. Dodd and Pendleton were the picquets on the Quinta’s driveway and when they saluted him Christopher just touched the ivory heel of his riding crop to one of the tasseled peaks of his bicorne hat. Luis, the servant, followed and the dust from their horses’ hooves drifted across the rills of fallen wisteria blossoms that lined either side of the driveway. „It looks like lavender, don’t it?” Christopher remarked to Sharpe. „They should try growing lavender here,” he went on as he slid from the horse. „It would do well, don’t you think?” He did not wait for an answer, but instead ran up the Quinta’s steps and held his hands wide for Kate. „My sweetest one!”
Sharpe, left on the terrace, found himself staring at Luis. The servant raised an eyebrow as if in exasperation, then led the horses round to the back of the house. Sharpe stared across the darkening fields. Now that the sun was gone there was a bite in the air, a tendril of winter lingering into spring. „Sharpe!” the Colonel’s voice called from inside the house. „Sharpe!”
„Sir?” Sharpe pushed through the half-open door.
Christopher stood in front of the hall fire, the tails of his coat lifted to the heat. „Kate tells me you behaved yourself. Thank you for that.” He saw the thunder on Sharpe’s face. „It is a jest, man, a jest. Have you no sense of humor? Kate, dearest, a glass of decent port would be more than welcome. I’m parched, fair parched. So, Sharpe, no French activity?
„They came close,” Sharpe said curtly, „but not close enough.”
„Not close enough? You’re fortunate in that, I should think. Kate tells me you are leaving.”
„Tonight, sir.”
„No, you’re not.” Christopher took the glass of port from Kate and downed it in one. „That is delicious,” he said, staring at the empty glass, „one of ours?”
„Our best,” Kate said.
„Not too sweet. That’s the trick of a fine port, wouldn’t you agree, Sharpe? And I must say I’ve been surprised by the white port.
„You can’t leave me!” Kate said, angry, as if Sharpe had not kissed her and she had not allowed the kiss.
„I’m a soldier, ma’am,” Sharpe said, „and I’m going.”
And then he did not go because that evening, at dusk, Colonel Christopher returned.
The Colonel was mounted on his black horse and dressed all in black. Dodd and Pendleton were the picquets on the Quinta’s driveway and when they saluted him Christopher just touched the ivory heel of his riding crop to one of the tasseled peaks of his bicorne hat. Luis, the servant, followed and the dust from their horses’ hooves drifted across the rills of fallen wisteria blossoms that lined either side of the driveway. „It looks like lavender, don’t it?” Christopher remarked to Sharpe. „They should try growing lavender here,” he went on as he slid from the horse. „It would do well, don’t you think?” He did not wait for an answer, but instead ran up the Quinta’s steps and held his hands wide for Kate. „My sweetest one!”
Sharpe, left on the terrace, found himself staring at Luis. The servant raised an eyebrow as if in exasperation, then led the horses round to the back of the house. Sharpe stared across the darkening fields. Now that the sun was gone there was a bite in the air, a tendril of winter lingering into spring. „Sharpe!” the Colonel’s voice called from inside the house. „Sharpe!”
„Sir?” Sharpe pushed through the half-open door.
Christopher stood in front of the hall fire, the tails of his coat lifted to the heat. „Kate tells me you behaved yourself. Thank you for that.” He saw the thunder on Sharpe’s face. „It is a jest, man, a jest. Have you no sense of humor? Kate, dearest, a glass of decent port would be more than welcome. I’m parched, fair parched. So, Sharpe, no French activity?
„They came close,” Sharpe said curtly, „but not close enough.”
„Not close enough? You’re fortunate in that, I should think. Kate tells me you are leaving.”
„Tonight, sir.”
„No, you’re not.” Christopher took the glass of port from Kate and downed it in one. „That is delicious,” he said, staring at the empty glass, „one of ours?”
„Our best,” Kate said.
„Not too sweet. That’s the trick of a fine port, wouldn’t you agree, Sharpe? And I must say I’ve been surprised by the white port.