Page 71 of A Debt Inherited

“That a younger son must have a place, sir. That a gentleman may serve, even if he has not—” Townsend hesitated. “Even if he must serve where his purse allows.”

Forster glanced at gloves. Townsend shifted his posture.

Bennet lowered his tone. “You speak of purchase.”

“The law permits substitutes, sir.”

Bennet stared at Townsend until he coloured.

“I took your meaning.” Bennet let his hand fall to the wood of his cane. “A county is poorly served by men who borrow a coat and mistake it for character. If a man is to wear your colour, he should be the man whom the colour names.”

Forster spoke then, with quiet that did not ask to be admired. “Mr Bennet—pray accept my assurance. We do our best to know our officers and our men. The practice you mention is known; it is not abused.”

“Known and abused in the same sentence,” Bennet said. “A very poor match.”

Townsend’s lips tightened. “Sir, there are very respectable substitutes.”

Bennet waited a beat. “I am not insensible of the burden of your post, Colonel. I am, however, very sensible of mine.”

The fire made a small sound, like a page turned. Outside, a cart went by upon the lane, wheel slow, voice rough, fading.

Forster set his palm upon his gloves, then left them as they were. “You will find me grateful for candour, sir. And accountable for my corps.”

“I shall hold you to that, Colonel.”

Townsend drew a breath. Forster’s look cut it into silence. The captain closed his lips, bowed, and let the flush find its use in humility.

“We shall not trespass upon your afternoon,” Forster said, rising. “We are obliged to you for your reception.”

Bennet used his cane to lever himself to his feet. “You, Colonel, are welcome at Longbourn when your business is as plain as to-day’s.”

Forster bowed with exactness; Townsend followed.

Hill had been quiet in the passage; he appeared with the sound of their movement.

At the threshold Forster paused. “Mr Bennet,” he said, and the steady smile looked less like an ornament and more like a decision, “I am very sensible of your concern. We do our best.”

Bennet met his eye. “Then may your best serve the parish to its credit. You will forgive me if I must take measures against error.”

Forster bowed again, smaller, nearer. “I shall make it unnecessary.”

“That is within your purview, Colonel.”

They went out. Hill saw them through the hall. The outside air came in, dry and far.

“Sir.”

Bennet turned to Hill, whose face was carved from stone.

“Your instructions?”

Bennet watched the militia pair mount, turn, and ride through the gate.

“Hospitality to Colonel Forster when he calls upon business. Courtesy to the rest when the household requires it. No easy welcome, Hill.”

“Very good, sir.”

“And should any of them find his way here without proper cause, I am not at home.”