Free An Early Engagement by Bárbara Metzger

havey-cavey affairs. You knew that when you signed on, didn’t you?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “It looks bad for the army, bad for the country, bad for me, do you understand, Captain? My men don’t rape and plunder; my officers do not ruin gently bred females and get wed in hole-in-corner fashion!”
    “Sir, it was nothing like that. In truth, it was quickly decided, but there was a long-term understanding.”
    “And the gel ain’t breeding?”
    “Certainly not, sir.” Stokely stood even straighter. Gads, did the old man think he was a child molester?
    “Harrumph. She better not be or I’ll have your resignation on my desk before you can say Jack Rabbit. I don’t like my officers married even, don’t like ‘em distracted, don’t like ‘em overly cautious. She ain’t goin’ to be hangin’ on your coattails, weepin’ and beggin’ you to come home, is she?”
    “No, sir. My Em is pluck to the backbone. She has plenty of bottom.”
    “I don’t like creatin’ widows either, by George, and I hate like hell makin’ orphans. You’re a damned fine tactician, boy, one of the finest, but I won’t keep any man at the front whose mind ain’t on the job to hand. There’s too many other lives at stake, you know.”
    “Yes, sir. That is no, sir. Thank you, sir. My, ah, wife is well provided for and shall not cause me any concern which might interfere with my duties.”
    “I ain’t seen the woman yet who didn’t ... but you remember what I said. Carry on, Captain.”
    Stokely saw no cause for concern. He did not feel any different, being leg-shackled, nor was he crushed by any mounting responsibilities. Sparrow and Geoff would play at handling things, and he would take care of everything else when the fighting was done. A soldier learned fatalism early, never making too many plans for when the war was over anyway; too many of his friends wouldn’t be going back home at all.
    No, things had worked out for the best, and the captain saw no difficulties. He had given Sparrow explicit instructions: do not overspend what the estates could hope to pay back in the near future, for he would not live off her wealth; do not go near her uncle; stay away from public appearances until he was there to help her take her rightful place in society.
    If she followed his directives, there would be no problems beyond minor childish scrapes, and he could proceed wholeheartedly with the job of defeating Bonaparte. Why should he worry? He was an officer in the army. Everyone obeyed his orders.
    * * * *
    It took Emilyann longer to get around some of Smoky’s mandates than others, and some lapses were not entirely her fault, like seeing her uncle. She had to retrieve her parents’ portraits and her clothes, didn’t she? And Jake, and her mare, and a little bit of her pride. She waited to be sure Uncle Morgan had Smoky’s letter and the London papers with her wedding announcement before visiting with Geoff and Nadine and two grooms.
    Smoky needn’t have worried: Uncle Morgan had been passed-out drunk for three days. She gathered her belongings, offered positions to any of the staff who wished to join her, and left her hastily engraved new card, one corner carefully turned down to indicate that Lady Emilyann, Countess of Stokely, had called in person. Let him swallow that!
    Then there was the issue of her not going out into society. As soon as word reached Northampshire, however, local society came to her. At first all the old biddies came, paying respects to the new bride, they said. Checking to see if she was increasing, more likely. She couldn’t let the gossip-mongers ruin her good name, or Smoky’s, she wrote him, by hiding and acting as if she had something to be ashamed about. She didn’t, and wouldn’t, so she had to be seen at the local assemblies. Furthermore, he wouldn’t want her to be rude to the neighborhood gentry by refusing their company, so she had to accept dinner engagements and invitations to private parties,