Last Will And Testament

[garnett1781]

The package had arrived at Horseguards during my trip to the Americas. I can't stop my hand from shaking slightly as I read the slip of paper lying atop the board game:

Item 7: Board game “Sorry”

Contents: board, 16x game pieces, deck of cards, wooden box

From the estate of Lieutenant Fitzwilliam Red

To Lieutenant Garnett

Message:

Like the game says, “Sorry” - hope I went doing something useful.

Suddenly I am back in that stark hospital. The smell of antiseptic and death, so much death. My stupidest, biggest, brother is so cold.

My breath catches in my throat as I recall how helpless I was. Red was dying, and nothing I could do made the slightest difference.

My memories roll further back: throwing a priece of bread at him over the dinner table and ducking, laughing, before he can retaliate. His twinkling eyes as he reads from the Chronicle in the mess, “It says - and I'm quoting here, G - 'unwholesome dalliances'!”

And of course, the board game. Late at night in Southampton, no energy to talk, but too miserable to sleep, turning over the cards by the light of a single candle and moving the little men around the board. The only word spoken being the occasional sarcastic “sorry” as we knocked each other's pieces back to the start.

Then when we finally made our way up to our beds, the quick squeeze of his arm around my shoulders, “Chin up, G. We'll save dozens more tomorrow.”

So I keep my chin up. If I wallow in the past, I won't be of use to anyone.

But I will allow myself this one indulgence. I cannot find the Governor, in whose home I am staying, or Lady Mary, who is busy with her little one, so I take the game down with me to the servants' quarters. An off duty footman is happy to oblige me, and we play the game once more.