SV - 01 - Sergeant Verity and the Cracksman (32 page)

"India, sergeant. Hindoostan has been dropped as a name since the rebellion broke out. It may be that a spell of duty under strict discipline there would materially improve your attitude."

"Couldn't say, sir. Never was in foreign parts, only for the Rhoosian war, sir."

"No," said Croaker thoughtfully, "but fortunately it will not be for
you
to say."

He turned and marched away, in frock coat and silk hat, as smartly as though he had been on the drill square at Woolwich once more.

"Sour as vinegar and mean as a stoat," said Verity softly.

"In-jer!" said Samson respectfully.

It was while they were watching Croaker's impressive departure that a smart spring-green Pilentum came bowling past, drawn by a pair of bay geldings. The carriage would have caught the eye in any case, but all heads turned to admire the girl who held the reins. Jolie, in her pink dress and bonnet, drove with more confidence than she had done with Dacre at Folkestone. Beside her sat Ellen Jacoby, her fresh blonde beauty considerably restored. She was nursing Ned Roper's child.

"Ain't it odd," said Samson, "what that doxy 'as to thank Lieutenant Dacre for? A-cos the Lieutenant took all Roper's share of the bullion, the railway company ain't got no right to all the other stuff. The court made all Roper's goods over to his woman and his son. Nell Jacoby must be a considerable rich young woman."

"If so inclined," said Verity, "she may lead an easy and virtuous life. Let us 'ope she does, Samson." Samson nudged him.

"So inclined! Constable Meiklejohn says those two doxies have taken a house down in Surrey, to live like spinsters. Ellen Jacoby don't miss Roper's loving any more. Why, you and I wouldn't even think of doing some of the things to a girl that those two does to one another. What Meiklejohn says
..."

"Much obliged," said Verity in his most magisterial manner, "but I ain't particular to 'ear what that heathen says. On Saturday, at Paddington Chapel, I shall become the 'usband of a young person who
does
need a man. There ain't nothing better than that!"

In the warm darkness of the little room, Verity lay on his back, holding Bella against him with his left arm. Passion being temporarily exhausted, his mind began to run on other things. So, apparently, did Bella's.

"Mr Verity," she said softly, playing with her fingers on his chest, "why was you called William Clarence Verity?"

"On account of the ballot," said Verity gruffly.

"What ballot?"

"The reform—eighteen thirty-two. All the Wesleyans in Cornwall were very strong for the ballot. You can't break the power of the Established Church and the squires any way but by extending the vote."

"But why was you called William Clarence?"

"On account of the old king," said Verity with great patience. " 'is Majesty was very strong for reform too, at the time. And he was King William and he'd been Duke of Clarence. So it was William Clarence."

"Oh," she said, as though rather disappointed.

They lay in silence for a few minutes more, Bella pushing closer towards him.

"It may be," said Verity, "that I shall have to go away for a few months, if Mr Croaker sends me."

"Where to?" she asked quickly.

"India, but only for a few months."

At first Bella seemed forlorn at the prospect.

"All those heathen," she said, "and black women. I've heard what goes on between the sojers and the native women."

"You've no business to listen to su
ch stuff!" said Verity indignantl
y. "And it'll only be for a little while."

Presentl
y she said, "Will it be like the camp before Sebastopol?"

" 'ow d'yer mean?"

"Will it be for Old England and the Queen?" "Oh," said Verity, "oh, yes, it'll be that all right." Bella snuggled closer to him and slid one bare leg over his. "Oh, William Clarence Verity," she said happily, "I'm no end proud of you! "