Normandy 1817
So, this is where Richard Sharpe has been living for these last three years, thought William Lawford as he walked his horse up to the run down farmhouse. From somewhere came the sound of a child's voice and Lawford smiled. This place reminded him of Tom Garrard's cottage. It was much larger but already Lawford had sensed a warmth about it, an aura that spoke of home and family. Lawford shook his head, finding the image of Sharpe as a family man almost too hard to accept.
Dismounting, Lawford called out, first in French and then in English, and a woman appeared in the doorway, dark haired and wary.
"Hello Madame, my name is William Lawford and I am looking for Richard Sharpe. We are old friends." Friends, well that was as close a description as any now, Lawford thought. Perhaps he should have just said acquaintances for after their last meeting he wasn't sure what Sharpe would call their relationship anymore. There was a time when the word friends would have been far too inaccurate to describe what they had between them. They had been lovers, on and off for eighteen years, but Lawford wouldn't think of that now, not while he stood here talking to Sharpe's wife. That would be wrong.
The woman, whom Lawford knew must be Lucille, suddenly blinked in recognition. "Oh Sir William Lawford.......why Richard has spoken of you, please come in Sir William, you must forgive my bad manners but Richard didn't tell me you were coming." She beckoned him towards the door, smoothing her hair down with one hand. Lawford smiled at her fluster.
"If I could just stable my horse first, I've ridden a long way."
Lucille blinked, clearly embarrassed. "We er, we don't have anyone helping us here at the moment and Richard is in the far pastures........I could do it for you." she offered hesitantly.
"Oh no that's not what I meant. I can do it myself, just show me where." he paused before asking "It is all right if I wait here for Richard to return? Perhaps I should ride down to see him?"
"He should be on his way back already. He always comes back for lunch" she looked back to Lawford "You will join us Sir William?" she asked, nervously.
"Why thank you that would be lovely. I'll ride down to meet Richard," he said smiling "That way I won't hold you up."
Lawford followed the worn path the led beside a small orchard and soon spied a familiar golden-haired figure wandering along whistling to himself. Oh Richard, Lawford thought, as he felt his heart stir. So many of his dreams and heartaches had revolved around this man. Even now, after so many years and so many disappointments, Lawford was amazed as to how just the sight of his lean graceful body, his soft sun drenched hair, could make him forget every promise and resolution that he had made concerning Sharpe.
I have not come here for that he told himself firmly, I've come to make peace, to salvage our friendship because THAT is what is most important, nothing more. But deep inside, deep down in the secret places of his heart that no one ever saw, Lawford knew that he kept alive a faint hope that maybe, just this once, he and Sharpe would be able to look at each other in openness and honesty, without unrealistic expectations or hidden agendas, without subtle jealousies or guilty secrets. That they could come together one last time and love each other as they had never managed to do before.
"Hello Richard." Lawford called as the figure finally looked up, noticing him.
"Bloody Hell, what are you doing here." It wasn't quite the reception that Lawford had hoped for but there was no anger in the words only surprise.
"I wanted to pay you a visit Richard, to see how you are, to say I was sorry about what happened with Fenner and Simmerson. I'm sorry I came unannounced." Truth was, Lawford had worried that if he told Sharpe of his plans to visit he may have been asked not to come.
Sharpe walked up and reached out to hold the horses bridle, his green eyes pinning Lawford, looking, searching for something, causing Lawford to drop his own eyes, afraid that Sharpe would see too far into his soul, find the darkness there.
"It's good to see you Sir, you look well." Sharpe said slowly and they commenced walking back to the farmhouse. Lawford ignored the dreaded honorific, after so many years of telling Sharpe not to call him Sir he had almost resigned himself to the fact that he would never hear his name spoken naturally.
"So do you Richard, farm life seems to agree with you." Sharpe looked tanned and lean, but there was no signs of grey in his hair, nothing to suggest that he was now forty, the same age as Lawford.
"You look like you've been spending some time out of doors yourself. You're thinner than you were in London." Sharpe added eyeing him critically as he would have any infantryman under his command, weighing him up, judging his strength. Lawford only hoped that Sharpe had meant the comment as a compliment, he really couldn't tell.
"I've been spending a lot of time on my estate Hollymere, in Bedford, where Tom Garrard is living." Lawford couldn't help the small smile that Tom's name brought to his lips "I've been helping him do a few things around the place, and I do a lot of riding."
Sharpe stared at him again then nodded. "How is Tom, how's his family." he asked.
"Oh Tom is fine, just fine, and very happy. His wife just had another baby." Lawford smiled at Sharpe "Another boy and he called this one Thomas. That makes three boys now and one girl."
Sharpe laughed, "I just can't imagine Tom with children." They had reached the farmhouse and Sharpe's own small son came running out to greet him. Lawford dismounted and watched as Sharpe swung his son up into the air as the child laughed and babbled on in French so fast that even Lawford had trouble following him. Lucille came out then and told them that lunch was ready and Sharpe explained that they would be in shortly.
As the two men stood in the stable unsaddling Lawford's horse and seeing to it's comfort an uneasy silence seemed to settle.
"So where are you staying? " Sharpe asked suddenly, his voice a little cold.
"In town at 'La Petite Pomme' it's very nice there." Lawford explained as gave the horse some water.
"And are you staying long?" There was a definite edge to Sharpe's voice now and Lawford looked at him,
"No only two days. I only wanted to apologize Richard, nothing more, I'm not here to cause trouble or intrude on your life. I just wanted to know that there was peace between us. I misjudged you Richard and it was wrong of me. I should have know that your loyalty to your men, your Regiment was not something that could be bought. I did you a great disservice by offering you a promotion and thinking that that would make everything different. Can you forgive me." Lawford hadn't rehearsed his apology but he'd had four long years to think it over.
Sharpe looked at him long and hard, those green eyes that could be so warm and playful, were once more wary. But finally Sharpe nodded and held out his hand to Lawford. "Aye, I'll forgive yer" he said and Lawford shook his hand happily, a great relief spreading through him. "Thank you Richard, thank you."
The table that Lucille had prepared was more than Sharpe usually saw at lunch time and he smiled when he realised that his wife must have spent the last half hour running around the kitchen like a mad woman. Both men relaxed around the table, eating, drinking and talking. Of course there were stories of the war and stories of past comrades. Sharpe told Lawford that Patrick had come to visit twice since the war had ended on the pretext of buying horses. Lucille added that he didn't seem to buy any horses, just spend the time talking and drinking ao which Sharpe just laughed and winked at Lawford.
Lucille asked about Lawford's wife, Lady Jessica, and Lawford replied as he always did that, no, his wife wasn't with him preferring to stay in London most of the time. Sharpe caught his eyes, holding them for a moment, a flicker of compassion and sympathy showing there and Lawford looked away.
The afternoon wore on and Lawford realised it was time to go. "I'm staying in town until tomorrow evening then I'm taking a coach for Calais. I was hoping you would dine with me tomorrow at noon, Richard." Lawford hoped that his voice didn't sound as desperate as he felt. There was one more thing he wanted to tell Sharpe, to give him before they parted but he didn't want to do that here and he didn't want to answer questions either.
Sharpe considered the invitation "Well I should be finishing the thinning of the cabbages tomorrow. I've missed all of this afternoon already." he began, but Lucille cut him off before he could refuse. "Of course you must go Richard. Sir William has come all this way to see you. You must go. It would not be right to say no. " Lawford smiled at the dark haired woman and Sharpe finally agreed.
As Lawford rode back to town, he almost felt happy. At least Sharpe had forgiven him even if Lawford could tell he didn't trust him. Trust. Such a small thing really. Lawford had no trouble trusting. Perhaps that had been one of his problems. He trusted others far too easily and had so often been made to pay. Perhaps Sharpe had never really trusted him anyway, which was fair enough, Lawford decided. Lawford had kept so many things to himself, so many of the whys and the hows and Sharpe had only seen the end results. He had never known the extraordinary lengths that Lawford had gone to further Sharpe's career and to stay beside him.
Well it's my own fault, he told himself, I didn't want him to know and he doesn't. Lawford hung his head and let the horse slow to a walk. Sharpe did know some things, he had seen the marks on Lawford's body back when they were in Spain and even before when they were back in India, Sharpe had discovered that he wasn't the only one that Lawford slept with.
Lawford felt that all too familiar sadness descending again, bringing with it guilt and self pity. Perhaps it was what he had done in India that had caused all this. Perhaps if he had acted differently things would have worked out with Sharpe, but he'd had no chose, had he? Was it his fault after all, or was it Morris'. Lawford shut down that thought, knowing it was useless to go over that again, useless and painful. There was nothing he could have done back then and there was nothing that he could do now. No, he had to forget it, forget all about India and what had happened there. He had made his peace with Sharpe now, and tomorrow he would make one last gesture to show Sharpe what their friendship meant. One final gift and then he would seek his own peace.
Sharpe was slightly late arriving, not that Lawford was worried, he knew Sharpe would come even if it was only because Lucille made him come. Lawford had arranged for them to dine in a small private room downstairs, not in his rooms upstairs. The temptation there was too great and he didn't want distractions this time. He had resolved that he would not sleep with Sharpe again, no, their relationship was purely friendship now, Lawford told himself, and he would be content with that.
Sharpe had gone to some effort to dress for the occasion and Lawford watched as Sharpe fumbled with knives and forks and spoons, never quite sure of what to use, always watching Lawford to be sure he was not in error. Some things about Richard Sharpe would never change.
"So what's this really all about? " Sharpe asked when they had finished the meal and sat sipping brandy, looking out the bay window at the gardens in flower. Lawford sighed, could Sharpe always see so clearly through him, he wondered. Reaching to the dresser behind him, Lawford brought forth a large leather portfolio of documents.
"I have a gift for you Richard, it was to come to you on my death, but I realised a while ago that it would probably serve you more now." Lawford placed a document on the table in front of Sharpe. "These are the Title Deeds to my lands in Yorkshire. I want you to have them."
Sharpe looked dumbstruck. He stared at the paper then up at Lawford. "I never knew you had lands in Yorkshire, where'd you get them from." he asked, his voice only slightly more than a whisper.
"They were left to me by Alexander McBride. You remember Colonel McBride?" began Lawford slowly, hoping desperately that Sharpe wouldn't ask too much, "He left me quite a number of estates Richard, he had no heirs."
Sharpe stared back at Lawford, realisation in his eyes. "So why give it to me? Why not Tom Garrard." he asked his voice wary.
"Tom and his family are well looked after. I see that they are never short and when I die, he will inherit Hollymere. You're my friend too Richard, I have no family, nor will I have any. I wanted you to have this because of all we've been through together, because of what we've shared in the past," Lawford heard his voice falter and he added softly "Because I love you."
Sharpe looked away at those words as Lawford knew he would and the two men sat there in stoney silence, one staring out of the window, the other waiting patiently to see if his gift would be accepted.
Sharpe finally turned back, a frown marring his handsome face, his eyes defiant.
"So why give it to me now, why not wait until you die. I don't want to live in Yorkshire, I'm happy here. I don't want to pack up and move back to bloody Yorkshire."
Lawford winced at the words, but kept his voice even. The last thing he wanted now was an argument. As simply as if he were speaking to a child he began to explain.
"There is no need for you to move there, Richard. The estate is well managed. All income from the lands will go into a bank in Paris and you can draw from that account whenever you need to. As to the question of why now, well" Lawford hesitated aware he was stepping on Sharpe's fragile pride. "I think you could use the money, and I would rather know that you were comfortable now than be struggling for years when you didn't have to."
Sharpe sat back in the chair. "I don't need your charity, I can manage quite well on my own."
"Listen to me before you decide, Richard, please" Lawford interrupted before Sharpe had a chance to refuse openly.
Lawford took a deep breath. He had kept this disclosure until last, hoping that Sharpe would accept the gift of the lands on face value, and that he would not have to reveal this one last thing.
"McBride grew up on the Yorkshire estate and he told me once that as a young man he frequently visited the brothels in Sheffield. In 1776, he had got a number of the local girls into trouble and that's when his father raised the 136th Regiment to get him out of the way. Richard I always wondered if.....I thought that he might ..." Lawford looked away, hesitating. He leaned across the table, his voice low and desperate. "Sometimes when I was with him, I'd look into his eyes and I could see you Richard, he had the same look, there was something about him." Lawford sat up again afraid he had said too much yet not enough. Looking away he said in a louder voice. "I thought he may have been your father!"
"Bloody Hell." shouted Sharpe gripping the table so that the china tinkled delicately. "Yer thought he was my father because yer saw me when you were.." Sharpe stopped then, his mouth pursed, holding back what ever he was going to say. It was his turn to lean towards Lawford "It was probably yer own damned wishful thinking if yer saw me in HIS eyes." Sharpe pushed the deeds back at Lawford and folded his arms.
"Please Richard, whether it's true or not we'll never know, but don't refuse this gift just because of your own pride. There are so many GOOD reasons to accept it. I'm giving it to you in friendship, because of what we once had, because of what we shared, because you saved my life more times than I can remember, because I've never cared about another person the way I care about you and yes, because possibly these lands should have been yours. Please Richard, if I ever meant anything to you, please accept this gift before I go."
Lawford was aware that he was begging now, but he had never asked anything of Sharpe before. No, he had once as he lay injured, in a hospital in Cuidad Rodrigo. Lawford had thought he was dying that time and had only asked out of desperation, knowing he may never see Sharpe again, wanting just once to hear Sharpe's words of love. Even as Sharpe had said them Lawford had know that they were the words of a man desperate to make peace with the dying. He had let Sharpe off, accepting the sentiment, knowing in his heart that the words were hollow, but he had clung to them all the same.
He watched Sharpe across the table, the Deeds lying there between them. In the end it didn't really matter if Sharpe accepted them, the Lands were already transferred to his name, the income from the last twelve months already accumulating interest, but Lawford hoped that Sharpe would accept the gift gracefully so that they could part here as friends.
Finally Sharpe nodded, and picked up the documents, looking at them curiously. Lawford took a large mouthful of brandy and relaxed. "You will have to put them into safe keeping in a bank Richard. Don't leave them lying around. The name of the lawyers who are managing the transfer of funds is written on the page in here, as are details of the bank account" he said as he passed the portfolio over.
Sharpe caught his hand and held it. "So do you want to go upstairs." he said nodding his head in the direction of the door. "We've still time, it's only early."
William Lawford felt his heart stop. Christ! Did Richard think he had to pay him for this! One part of him wanted Sharpe desperately, to hold him one last time, to kiss him one last time, to make love one last time. The temptation was great, and Lawford had deliberately avoided everything that would give Sharpe any indication that this was what he had intended. Lawford had dinned downstairs, away from his private rooms. He had set the meeting for noon instead of the evening when Sharpe may have felt he was expected to stay. And still Lawford was made to confront his greatest desire and turn it down. Yes, that was what he would have to do because he knew that Sharpe only offered this as some form of payment or out of his strange sense of pride.
"No Richard, that's not what I expect. You don't have to make love to me because you feel you owe it to me." he said softly withdrawing his hand. A tiny hope bloomed deep inside Lawford's heart that Sharpe had not meant it the way it sounded, that he had bungled the words as he so often did and that he would ask again in a different way, a way that might make his meaning clearer. William Lawford waited for Sharpe's next words as he had so many times in the past.
"There's a difference between doing it for payment and doing it out of gratitude." Sharpe said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. But it was like a knife wound to the heart, thought Lawford. No not the heart, because that would bring a quick painless death, a knife wound to the gut, because that took far longer to kill you, and you had ample time to feel the pain.
"I know that Richard, but there is also a difference between doing it out of gratitude and doing it out of love." Lawford replied quietly.
Sharpe rose from the table and paced the room a few times before coming back to stand in front of Lawford.
"What do you want from me!" he shouted, "You've always wanted more than I could give you, and I never understand what it was half the time." Sharpe pushed a stray strand of hair from his face and looked to Lawford in desperation.
There was so much that Lawford could have said, but their time was short and he knew that when he left here, the two men would never meet again. This was his last chance to set it all right, to undo all the damage he had done over the years by wanting what he could never have. It was his last chance to make his peace with Sharpe.
He stood and reached out his hand to Sharpe, mirroring the gesture that Sharpe had made the day before. "Just your forgiveness Richard. Your forgiveness and your friendship."
Sharpe reached out his hand and clasped Lawford's, a small smile gracing his lips, an honest smile "Aye" he nodded "Friends" then he pulled Lawford closer and brushed a light kiss across his lips. "Friends" he repeated.
Sharpe left then, taking with him the deeds, promising that he would come to England in the winter to see the estate and visit Hollymere and Tom Garrard. Lawford nodded, surprised at how suddenly it was all concluded, drinking in the sight of Sharpe for one last time, knowing he would never see him again. He watched from the window as Sharpe rode away, his figure diminishing in the distance.
Lawford sat back down at the table, the room suddenly empty and cold, the silence broken only by the ticking of a clock counting off the dying seconds. He looked at the glass that Sharpe's lips had touched, the knives and forks that he had struggled with over dinner and he laughed at himself for his own foolishness. Slowly Lawford drank the last of the brandy from the decanter and watched as the shadows lengthened outside.
"Is there anything else your require Monsieur." the owner inquired when he came to clear the table.
Lawford smiled, as gracious as always and answered in French "I would like to settle my account now as I will be leaving this evening. The meal was lovely, please thank the chef." he hesitated a moment before continuing "And Henri, if it's not to much trouble, could you have someone saddle a horse for me. I'd like to go riding."
The End
July 1998.