charitylovehopefaith | The Fourth

The Fourth - [ written/action ]

Written:

[David is of the opinion that she won't find a maid, not one as she knows it. Granted, Faith is steadily accepting this as a fact. Not that she has any proper understanding of why. Surely there is some sort of arrangement of compensation that could be worked out even in this strange place.

Besides, how else ought she to phrase her request? She hardly knows what he means by phrasing it in a more friendly fashion. What could be less friendly than asking someone to assist with cooking and cleaning without offering any compensation?

Still, for now, she refrains from her usual advertisment.]

May the eighth,

As some of you may have already learned, my brother is newly arrived in Luceti. [If she knew how to keep this private from David, she would make a sharp remark about treating him with the respect an officer in the King's Navy deserved. But he wouldn't approve, so, as he might see, she does not venture that far.

She might also, if she knew he couldn't see it, attempt to find him lodgings. The idea of David living alone isn't one she relishes. He's too much the sailor, too used to crowded ships and busy inns.]

His coming increases my need for fabric, particularly for wool. Especially worsted wool. I am afraid I do not know how to spin, though I should be happy to learn if the tools are available and the prepared wool is not. I believe, with a little work, I can learn, also, to dye, should only the raw wool be available. Which leads me to the question: I know there is farmland. I've heard it spoken of. Are there sheep? If there are, I should like to inquire after obtaining some wool when they are shaved.

I have had moderate success in finding what I need in the shops, but I am aware their stock may not always hold.

I shall be quite grateful to any assistance in answering my questions. Thank you kindly.

Faith Long.

[After a moment, a quick post-script appears:]

P.S.: Major Sharpe, [Best be formal when addressing him so publicly]
If you would be so kind as to call on me this afternoon, I have a parcel for you.

Action:

[For the most part, Faith keeps her routine. She goes to the Item Shop with her basket, looking for things that belong to her or might belong to her recently arrived brother.

She has tea in the late afternoon at Celsius Tear.

Her meals, she takes in her home (after preparing them in the Community House 4, first floor common kitchen).

During the middle of the afternoon, though, she can be found just outside Community House 4, sitting on a stool brought out, plain, thick cloth spread out around her to protect what she's working on. The light, after all, is better outside than in.

In her hands is fabric, needle, and thread, as she stitches the sleeve of a nearly finished dress, one that she feels will suit her quite nicely as the weather warms. Under her chair, as promised to the soldier earlier, is a package wrapped in brown paper.]

(Original image from here.)

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[ he seems -- by all accounts -- thoroughly charmed by her opinion. but he doesn't dare let it show too blatantly. instead, it manifests in a twinkling eye and a twitching lip. ]

Money talks; merit walks. [ an american loyalist had once told him so and sharpe had taken it to heart. ] Of course, they ain't all useless stuffed silk stockings. Some have a mind for it. And some -- however rarely -- are granted their commissions on the field. They ain't worth a wooden penny, though.

[ he'd know; he once tried to sell his with little success. ]

[As distastefully as the rivalry between Aaron and Edward had been at the time and as messily as the ending of it had proven, both the courtship with Aaron's ending and Edward's eventual actions, it had impressed a few things on Faith.

Birth did not determine a man's morals. Edward's, deplorable as they had proven eventually, had at least been better than Aaron's. Besides, Richard seemed quite devoid of the deficiency Edward had proven to have. Or, at least, the way he spoke of David was a reassurance in that area.

Not that she presumed too much with this friendship of theirs, but she was certainly allowed a flight of fancy now and then, wasn't she?]

The rare occurrences, I imagine, speak to an undeniable ability. Something that cannot go unrecognised.

[Flattery? Yes. Blatantly so? Probably. But she did mean it, and she felt him more than owed the compliment.]

[ his smile returns -- albeit slowly and cautiously. ]

I must be honest with you, Faith. [ his voice wavers over the dropped title. ] Never have I purchased a single one of my promotions.

[ he says it in a tone betraying how obvious it all is. but he can't help but want to dip briefly into her good esteem, suggesting that not only was he made ensign upon merit but also found his way all the way to major on that same steam. or else a very many regimental positions were made vacant by the deaths of other officers. ]

[Faith smiles again. Not a broad smile. No, this one is much more of a quiet smile.

She is not young enough any longer to believe in ideals. Every man has his vices, often in greater abundance than his virtues. The task for a woman choosing the men who will be allowed into her society -- especially an unmarried woman -- is that of selecting a man whose virtues are noticeable and whose vices might be excused and unmentioned.

Richard Sharpe? Certainly seems to be that sort of man.]

Which, I have no doubt, means your merits are far beyond those who are your rank but bought theirs.

Oh, lass -- [ he relaxes. ] What I would pay to see a brave soul such as yourself stand up in the officer's mess and tell'em so.

[ of course, he'd only just finished telling her that he didn't need her to protect his honour -- so his desires can be taken with many grains of salt. besides, he can almost joke about his position. common though he was, how many of his fellow majors could claim that they have dined at the prince regent's side? or claim a french eagle? or the breach at badajoz?

because -- oh yes -- if richard has any vices then it's a heady mix of romanticism and ambition. but not vanity, and for that reason he finds himself unable to expand upon how he'd managed to come this far. ]

[Faith chuckles. She can imagine the fuss that would cause. About as great a one as when she bickered with her mother over the acceptability of a young Navy officer to court her when she had so sure a thing as a lordling army officer whom she needed only say the word to have a marriage date set.

But she is conscious that most men do not prefer their predecessors discussed. Not, she reminds herself, that she has any proof that Richard means to court her. But to compare him with other men, even favourably, who've held her affection might upset any sort of notion like that.]

I fear it would be dismissed as a girl's foolish fancy. Mere romanticism and nothing more.

[For she knows what credit her mind and resolution is given where the men in her life are concerned.]

A woman's fancy is no more foolish than a fop's -- and, in this case, might be most accurately described as a damn sight less so.

[Her smile grows only marginally, but her eyes light up.]

You are very kind to say, Richard.

[ he hadn't the heart to break it to her that he wasn't a kind man. far from it, most months. it's this place; it allows him more room for kindness than he's accustomed to. ]

A-at the same time -- [ he hits upon a rare stammer ] -- I wouldn't...[ another clearing of his throat. ] I'm loath to make it sound as if I haven't a thing to offer aside from battle scares and trophies.

[Offer.

That single word makes Faith have to force herself not to smile even wider.

That word most certainly suggests at least a mind to court, if not full intent. And that's an idea she certainly won't stamp out.]

I should never think such a thing.

[ he would say nothing more on the matter. a slight suggestion is enough. sharpe is a man who would hoard ten thousand pounds in french gold with his bankers and then turn around to cut his own hair, claiming he couldn't afford a servant. life is almost easier when his peers (by definition if not opinion) assumed him penniless.

but he does want to impress the woman. and so he lets loose one more secret: ] What I do have, lass, is an eagle.

An eagle?

[She tilts her head again, wonderingly. After all, it's certainly something she's never heard before, really. A man owning an eagle...]

An eagle. [ is that a smirk? that might be a smirk. ] French Imperial. Gold an' glitterin'. Touched by the hand of the Ogre himself.

[ he tips a a hand in the air, as if to demonstrate the act of an emperor's benediction. ] Each French regiment has gone one. It's their standard, aye? Their colours, like.

Oh!

[That makes far more sense, and she can recall hearing at least passing mentions of those. Nothing too concrete, but his description is enough to catch the imagination.

...There might still be some romanticism in her, even she denies it.]

And you have one?

The lads and I captured one some years ago. [ he's quick to share the deed among his men. sharpe will be the last to lay total claim to the eagle. he will always at least split the honour with his sergeant. ] It followed me here, last Christmas.

My word. [Faith positively beams the statement. She watches him with wide eyes.]

However did you manage such a feat? I imagine it must have been quite difficult.

It's...a bit of a tale. Lengthy, perhaps. But if you have the time, Miss Faith...?

[A little more boldness won't hurt, Faith decides quickly.]

For you, Richard, I've always the time, and I should be delighted to hear it.

[She rises, beaming.] Do come inside. We'll sit, have a little tea, and you can tell me all about it.

[ if she can be bold, then so can he. sharpe offers a crooked arm. ]

That suits me perfectly.

[Faith takes a moment to fold up her sewing and cover it with the canvas around her chair that protected it so far from the grass and dirt. With that in one hand, she uses the other to take his arm.]

Oh, Christ. It'd been a good long while since he'd been so blessedly near a fine and courtable female creature such as Faith. It wasn't as though he didn't now live with three women, but none captivated him the way she did. In fact, most of them were more familial than anything else. And one was nigh-hated. So Sharpe kept his arm stable and steady as he led her up to her own building's step.

"I suppose the story starts with a bridge..."

"A bridge?"

Faith was an eager listener to stories, especially ones that were mostly true and that military men told. She held his arm as they went, separating only inside her door. Because she had a kettle to put on to brew the promised tea.

"...An old Roman bridge. But if you ask me, they all look old and Roman. This one was at Valdelcasa, on the River Tagus." Sharpe wasn't an educated man, but he'd never hesitated on subjects of geography. He spoke these words with the confidence of a man whose walked their attendant miles. "An' Wellington," though, Sharpe recalled, he wasn't Wellington back then, "Wellington wanted it...scuppered. It weren't used much, but would've brought the French directly on our line's rear were they ever to find it. A soft job. It was only ever meant to be a soft job.

So that's where it began, Faith," he leaned unceremoniously against a wall once they were inside. "Me and my men were attached to a newly raised regiment, to keep an eye on the poor babes as they tried to blow a bridge. The locals called it El Puente de los Malditos."

Back then, he'd barely known the words or their meaning. Later, however, Teresa had taught him better.

A fitting beginning to a tale, she felt. It set an atmosphere very well. If there was one thing all military men seemed to share, it was their ability to recount their exploits or those of others for the benefit of a civilian.

As she put the kettle on and sat, motioning him to sit near her, she smiled sadly. "I fear it was not so soft a task. Not if it was the sort of thing to make a story."

"A green regiment with an even greener man leading'em. We was helping the engineers lay their charges when he caught sight of a few French cavalry. Sent his men over the bridge, lost many of them as well as his colours, and when our rifles were ordered in to help...? He panicked. Had the bridge blown behind us. Among the officers lost was a man named Lennox, who'd I'd seen fight in India. A good man. The eagle were his dying wish..."

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and by scares i obvs meant scars.

And Lynn brilliantly didn't notice!

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why haven't i forcefully prosed at you yet whoops

Bound to happen!

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