The True Soldier: Jack Lark 6 by Fraser Collard Paul

Author:Fraser Collard, Paul
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2017-07-13T04:00:00+00:00

Jack walked through the encampment having left the celebrations early. He had lost interest in the day when Rowell had intercepted Elizabeth shortly after they had had their photograph taken. If he were honest with himself, he felt relieved to have left her behind. As he walked along the long line of tents, he felt a little heady. Elizabeth’s company was intoxicating.

He did not understand why she had kissed him and he had even less of an idea what it meant. He did know that it was a complication to his life he could well do without. He had a fair idea how Rowell would react if he discovered that his beloved had kissed another man. The fact that Rose had seen them made a wider audience’s discovery possible. The thought made Jack sigh.

It had also been a relief to walk away from the clutches of the photographer and his assistants. Mr Brady had been delighted to see Elizabeth approach his makeshift studio and they had been ushered past the queue as the photographer’s assistant fussed around them as if they were royalty. Elizabeth had been seated in a high-backed chair, her head held in a metal frame, its bars slipped into her hair to hold her still. Jack had been posed awkwardly to one side, his hand clasped to the back of Elizabeth’s chair, where it had been secured by a cuff. A metal frame had been placed around his spine to hold his posture, the contraption digging into his flesh so that the first pain had arrived within a minute of his being in its iron embrace. Both of them had been told not to speak or move.

Brady’s assistant did all the work whilst Mr Brady himself stood to one side and peered at Elizabeth through thick spectacles. He was an odd little man and Jack had spent his time in the uncomfortable posture wondering how someone who appeared to be almost blind could become one of Washington’s pre-eminent photographers.

Despite the pain of the sitting, Elizabeth had enjoyed the whole experience. As Rowell had dragged her away, she had promised to send Jack one of the images. Jack had paid the promise little heed, his attention focused on his commanding officer, who had only just been able to keep a lid on his anger at finding his fiancée on the arm of another man.

A loud English voice interrupted his thoughts. It was the first English accent he had heard for a long time, so he paused as a short, heavily bearded man stomped his way along the line of tents, heading in the opposite direction to Jack, followed by a major and a pair of red-faced captains. The Englishman was berating his escort loudly as he walked, his hectoring tone making it clear he was not happy.

‘Excuse me, sir,’ he snapped as he saw Jack standing in his way. He clearly expected him to stand aside.

‘Where do you think you are, Pall Mall?’ Jack could not resist the retort.

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