“Two horses trampled nervously on the cobbles by the yard’s arched entrance. The only light came from a lantern which hung in the stable doorway. Her child slept upstairs. ‘Take this.’ Lucille thrust a bundle towards Sharpe. ‘It belonged to Xavier.’ Sharpe shook the bundle loose to reveal that it was a dark blue woollen cloak lined with scarlet silk, a luxury that had belonged to Lucille’s husband. ‘It’s beautiful.’ He felt awkward, not certain that he was worthy of the gift. He folded the cloak... over his arm, then touched Lucille’s cold cheek. ‘I’ll see you late tomorrow.’ ‘Maybe.’ Lucille absently brushed at the dried blood on Sharpe’s threadbare jacket. ‘How can you tell?’ ‘One day to hold them,’ he said lightly, ‘and one day to beat them.’ ‘Maybe,’ she said again, then, looking up into his eyes, ‘and what if you lose?’ ‘Take a canal barge to Antwerp. I’ll find you there. If it’s really bad, make your way to Ostend and cross to England.’ Lucille’s despondency was caused by a fear of Sharpe’s death, not a British defeat, but she dared not articulate such a thought.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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