Page 9 of A Lady's Heart Deceived
Now that was an idea, but more than likely Captain Denford would be far too busy to leave London. All that paperwork he had cluttered around his office would no doubt require his attention.
“Thank you, Papa. I am so grateful for your support.”
Maggie headed toward the front of the main red-brick residence, a slight spring in her step.
That night, she slept the best she had in a long time. Instead of the usual fitful dreams of Robert, she dreamt of a tall figure clouded in gray mist. And while the apparition might have been unclear, it still gave her comfort. She rolled over in the bed, deep in sleep and whispered, “Piers.”
Chapter Seven
One week later
Piers wiped the dust from his hands and got to his feet. He glanced down at his black trousers and quietly swore. There were dirty marks all down the front of them.
He had hoped to follow up on Miss Margaret Radley’s case sooner, but his commanding officer had embarked on an office reorganization campaign. People had been moved, in Piers’s opinion, unnecessarily, to new quarters and rooms purely to suit Major Hall’s mood. The week of shifting piles of papers, carrying chairs, and cleaning had left Piers with no time to investigate the mysterious Captain Robert Taylor.
Today was the first day in almost a week when he had been given the opportunity to get down into the old records room and search through it. Three hours later and he was still no closer to finding the elusive captain.
Carrying a muster roll upstairs and into his new, smaller office, Piers dropped the heavy tome onto his desk, then sighed. Only a few hours more and he could go home to Denford House. His family’s London residence was his place of peace and sanctuary.
He was about to go and avail himself of a cup of hot tea when a fellow officer rapped on the door frame.
“Preston how are you?” asked Piers.
“Good, Denford. I see Major Hall has you doing more bloody paperwork. Will that man ever give in?”
Piers didn’t respond. He knew well enough not to say anything against their commanding officer. He might well loathe the man, but he wasn’t foolish enough to give voice to his personal opinions of him. Unkind remarks tended to get back to those who had been denigrated by them.
Piers nodded at the muster roll. “Just trying to get to the bottom of a mystery. A captain whose fiancée says he was at Waterloo, but whom I cannot locate. Thought I should take one last run through the rolls before I write to her. Poor woman. I think she was spun a story by a cad.”
Captain Preston raised an eyebrow. “Have you checked the regimental colony muster roll?”
The what?“What is that?”
A sly grin crept to Preston’s lips. “It’s the book which keeps a record of those chaps who don’t want to come home from war or army service and who would rather go somewhere else and begin a new life. The regiment allows you to pretend you died on the battlefield, then they send you off to the colonies to start all over again under a different name.”
Piers stared at him, dumbfounded. He had never heard of such a thing.
“It’s a great way to rid yourself of a troublesome wife or to avoid facing a criminal trial for some misdemeanor. You get to escape your past and in return, the army gets a man prepared to go to the other side of the world.”
“I should check the colony muster roll. Where is it kept?” said Piers.
Captain Preston snapped to attention. Out of the corner of his eye, Piers caught a glimpse of Major Hall. He quickly followed suit.
The reed-thin senior officer, resplendent in his full ceremonial military uniform of a red coat with gold facings, strode into the room. Other officers usually wore the more sedate working rig, a simpler uniform for everyday use, but not Major Hall.
Under his arm was tucked a brass-topped swagger stick. Piers shuddered at the sight. Major Hall regularly smashed it across the shoulders of officers and soldiers whenever he felt the need to establish his authority. Captain Piers Denford knew the weapon only too well.
The major cleared his throat. “The regimental colonial muster roll is kept under lock and key in the Commander-in-Chief’s private office. And you, Captain Denford, will never be granted access to it. The army doesn’t need people to go prying into its affairs. There were several hundred names added to the roll after Waterloo, but I don’t recall any officers being among them. Men who were offered a fresh start in New South Wales. New name, no history. All they had to do was undertake the long sea voyage to New Holland and they never had to worry about merry old England ever again.”
“I hear that Governor Macquarie is going to recommend to the British Colonial Office that the name of the continent be changed to Australia,” offered Piers.
The instant he spoke, he regretted it. Major Hall fixed him with an all too familiar look of utter disdain. “Yes, well, if you put as much effort into your work as you do with listening to rumors, you might be a half-decent … actually no. You won’t ever be worthy of your rank.”
You never waste a single opportunity to try and tear me down, do you?
The major’s gaze drifted from Piers to the muster roll, and he sighed. “What are you wasting army time on now?”
“A missing captain. His fiancée wrote to the war office some time ago, and early last week, she paid me a visit. I have been trying to discover what might have happened to him.”
