chapter 17

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ONCE CAPT. CANNON had been wheeled into the drawing room, Left Limb was put at ease in the corner while Right Limb was kept busy sugaring tea and tilting the cup just so, to keep its contents from his commander's voluminous whiskers.

"Tell me, Captain," Elizabeth said before her mother could make the day's temperature the principal topic of conversation, "you have been to Hertfordshire before?"

Capt. Cannon's gaze darted to Mrs. Bennet, and he hacked out a jowl-quivering cough.

"Yes. I was stationed here briefly twenty-odd years ago. Of course, at the time I was but a reedy little ensign barely big enough to hold up my own epaulets."

"Oh, pish tosh," Mrs. Bennet chided. "You were the prettiest thing in Colonel Miller's regiment!"

The captain turned the same shade of red as his uniform.

Lt. Tindall, on the other hand, went pale green. Elizabeth guessed he would've preferred a lively discussion about their chances for rain that week.

"Oh, how it broke my heart to see you go," Mrs. Bennet went on, dreamy eyed. She awoke from her reverie with a little start and added, "All you fine young men, I mean. The regiment. As a whole. Altogether."

"Yes, well, duty called," Capt. Cannon said.

"You were sent away to fight the dreadfuls?" Elizabeth asked. Usually, she would've left it to Lydia or Mary to pose such a tactless question. But her sisters weren't there, and she couldn't resist.

The captain nodded. "Cornwallis's Folly. The Sack of Birmingham. Wellington's Last Stand. The Battle of Kent. I was at them all, though less of me made it to each in turn. A bite on the wrist, and my left arm had to go. A nasty scratch on the ankle, and the left leg went with it. A rotter ate my right hand before my very eyes. The company surgeon took the rest. And the right leg? That's the one that almost got me. A break in the skin no bigger than a pinprick where a dreadful swiped at my thigh—that's all it took. I didn't even notice it for half a day, and by then the blight nearly had me. Another hour, the surgeon said, and he would've been sawing off my head, not my leg. And still I kept on fighting! By the end, I'd looked into the putrid eyes of so many unmentionables, I could truthfully say I feared neither Death nor Hell, for I'd grappled hand-to-hand against the one and marched time and again into the other. Somehow, I survived it all. But after leaving Hertfordshire lo those many years ago, I daresay I never again lived."

As the man spoke, an air of gloom fell over the room as stifling as a London fog, and for a long while after he stopped, the only sound was that of Mrs. Hill's heavy footfalls in the hallway.

"It must be said, though," Lt. Tindall finally pronounced, "Hertfordshire certainly gets its measure of sunshine in the spring. I should think we had just made camp in the West Indies, to judge by the clime this day."

"Oh, my, yes. It has been most unusually warm of late," Mrs. Bennet said. Yet her voice was strained and quavery; she wasn't seizing upon the change of subject with the greedy, grateful grasp Elizabeth would have normally expected.

Before the room could slip back into silence, however, there was a great commotion out in the foyer, and presently Elizabeth's father burst in with all his other daughters.

"Lizzy, my dear, you had me worried sick!" Mr. Bennet exclaimed with uncharacteristic fervor. "I half-thought you'd joined the sorry stricken . . . and then I hear you've joined His Majesty's infantry, instead!"

Jane simply rushed to Elizabeth's side, threw her arms around her neck, and kissed her on the cheek, while Kitty and Lydia laughed and even dour Mary unleashed a grin.

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