A Principle of Honour

Chapter 2

Less than a week ago, the Honourable Major James Mitford, had been at his club, drowning his sorrows with a rather good scotch. Since returning from Spain, after being injured at the battle of Salamanca, he had spent a lot of time there, trying to avoid various members of his family. He did not want to socialise; he just wanted to be left alone to grieve.

His wife Isabella, the daughter of a Spanish noble, had died, along with his unborn child. He had not yet forgiven his mother for voicing her relief that she was now gone. From the very beginning, his mother had disapproved of the marriage and had written him a lengthy letter listing his new wife's many faults. She had told him that he had disgraced the family name and that his new wife would never be welcomed by her. She finished the letter by listing the attributes a wife of good standing required, making it clear that Isabella did not meet any of her high expectations.

As well as his overbearing mother, James was also avoiding his elder brother, the Earl of Wrexham. His brother was a well-regarded member of society, who to his credit, did not publicly voice the same concerns about Isabella as his mother had done. However, he wanted to parade James around society and introduce him as a war hero to all his friends and acquaintances. James knew, of course, he was no hero. If he could have been one, he would have been able to save Isabella from the chaos of war.

All James wanted to do, was too dull his memory, and the only way he knew he could do this efficiently, was to drink himself into oblivion. The problem was that in order to suppress those painful memories, one had to imbibe more and more scotch each day. Then what had he to show for it the next morning? A sore head and hazy memories of the previous night's excesses. He was becoming a little disgusted with himself, but the alternative was to submit to his family's wishes and find himself a wealthy wife. But Isabella still loomed large in his memory, and he could not contemplate another marriage. Anyway, he had been in love once, and one always knew that a love like that only came around once in a lifetime.

'Mitford,' a familiar voice boomed across the room, 'how are you?'

The voice belonged to an acquaintance from school, Major Stephan Ellington. Ellington had also been injured at Salamanca, and the two old friends had travelled back to England on the same hospital ship.

'You know how it is, Ellington, trying to avoid my mother and the rest of my family.' James said as he motioned to the seat opposite him. 'Come, join me for a drink.'

Ellington sat in the chair offered to him by his friend and motioned to the footman to bring another glass. 'How's the shoulder?' Ellington had asked, as his friend poured him a drink. James had sustained a broken collarbone, caused by a blow from a French cavalry sword. He had lost a good deal of blood and had nearly died at the hands of the regimental surgeon. 'I heard that you would be able to return to Spain in the new year.'

'Yes,' replied James, 'I am still a little stiff on the left side, but it should not bother my sword hand. What about you? Still walking with a limp, I see.'

Ellington sighed, 'my fighting days are over. There is still a fragment of the bullet, in there somewhere. I have been to see another sawbones today, and they confirmed it was too dangerous to remove. It looks as though I will have to sell my commission.' He said as he drank some more scotch. 'In fact, you can congratulate me; I am engaged to be married.' He drained his glass, poured himself another large drink and continued. 'She's not my usual type,' he added, 'but she has an enormous dowry, enough to cover my debts and set me up for the future. My family arranged the whole thing.'

'My family have also been trying to match me with every eligible girl in the city. That is why I am here. It is the only place I can seem to avoid them.' James said bitterly in reply.