The evening was closing in around the soldiers and camp of the British army, when Elizabeth stepped over to the large tent where she knew the officers of the regiment, including her husband, would be. She smiled across at one of the guards who bowed his head as he pulled back the tent flap and she stepped in. The conversation stopped immediately as she ducked into the room and all eyes turned to face her so that she wished to turn away from the gathered crowd and walk once more into the early evening but, gripping the small box in her hand, she walked forward. Her husband rose to his feet and walked over to her, taking her free hand.
“I heard you were unwell, my dear.”
“That is true,” she said clearly as Josiah guided her over to where Captain and Mrs. Pottinger sat.
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