After being shooed out of Jane's bedroom by the midwife, Obadiah went downstairs with her announcement still ringing through his head.

"Sharpie!" Obadiah thought indignantly as he was descending the staircase. "That misbegotten miserable son of a whore!"

The more he thought about it, the less he was surprised. The young corporal was always bragging about all the women he'd been with. Obadiah even remembered one time overhearing him and the privates talking in the warehouse and Sharpe mentioning a town girl he'd bedded. He hadn't paid much attention to Sharpe at the time, but now he realized that the corporal must have been talking about Jane, as the time frame was about right.

And though he was determined to take revenge on the younger man, Obadiah couldn't help but recognize that if not for Richard Sharpe, he probably would never have had a chance to marry Jane.

As he entered the sitting room downstairs, unshaven and haggard from a night without sleep, Jane's relatives looked up at him expectantly.

"How is she?" Jane's father asked. "Is she any closer to it?"

"Ain't nothing changed," Obadiah said, twitching, his voice raspy with fatigue. "Jane is still struggling with that little 'un and she's worn out. Havin' a hard time of it, she is." He didn't mention her confession about Richard Sharpe, as there would be plenty of time to talk about that later. Now wasn't the time, nor the place.

"May we go up and see her?" Sarah asked after exchanging a worried glance with Abby.

"Go on up," Obadiah said. "Midwife is lookin' her over again, That's female business, so's it should be all right for you two to go in."

After the two sisters had disappeared up the stairs, Obadiah wearily took a seat on the sofa by his father-in-law.

"My wife didn't have near this much trouble birthing our three girls," Jacob Cutler told Hakeswill, "I'm worried about Jane."

Obadiah was worried, too, but he did not voice his concern out loud. "I don't have no experience with this sort of thing, but I expects that every woman is different."

"You're right, of course," the older man said. "But I can't help but worry."

"It's in God's hands," Aunt Caroline said. "All we can do now is pray and hope the midwife can help her."

As they continued to wait for the midwife's report, Obadiah fell asleep on the sofa and began to snore lightly, as he'd not had much rest to speak of since Sarah had come to fetch him from the camp.

He was awakened a short time later when the midwife returned to make her report. The woman waited for a moment as Obadiah collected himself: yawning, stretching and rubbing his eyes.

"She's still having trouble," the midwife finally said, her somber expression telling the tale more than her words. "The baby was still in the wrong position, so I reached up inside her and turned it as best I could, but I'm not sure if it did enough to help."

Aunt Caroline cringed at the woman's explicit frankness, but remained silent. Jane's father and Obadiah exchanged glances, not liking what they heard.

"How much longer, then?" Obadiah asked.

"Can't say for sure," the woman replied. "But things should be moving along faster now, I'm thinking."

Rising from the sofa, Obadiah said, "I'm going back up there 'til it's time."

"I'm coming with you," Jane's father said.

Nearly an hour later, the midwife examined Jane again, then muttered to herself, "It's time" Looking at Abby and Sarah, "Both of you, stay here. I'm going to need your help." Turning her gaze to the two men, she added,"Both of you need to go and leave us women to our work."

After Jane's father had spoken a few words of encouragement to his daughter and taken his leave, Obadiah bent close to the bed and took his wife's hand. "I'll be right outside if you needs me," he said in a low voice, twitching nervously. "I love you, Jane."

"I love you, too, Obadiah," she croaked out, surprised to realize that she meant it.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, he added, "I'll be back soon, I hope, and we'll have us a new little 'un to raise." He leaned closer and kissed her on the cheek before reluctantly leaving the room.

Directly outside the room in the short hallway was a window with a seat built in beneath it. Obadiah settled himself there, not wanting to be any further away from his wife than he had to be. He took out his pocketknife and began to clean his fingernails with it, just to have something to do with his hands.

His father-in-law joined him a few moments later, bringing a stool from the kitchen to sit on. Neither man said much, as both were exhausted from the long wait. They sat in companionable silence, with each man lost in his own thoughts, but exchanging worried glances when Jane's moans increased in volume.

Nearly two hours later, Jane's moans dwindled away, with the midwife appearing in the doorway shortly thereafter.

"I'm sorry," the midwife said, wearily pushing a stray hair back under her cap. "The poor, wee babe was born dead." Sighing heavily, she continued, "I did all I could, but poor Mrs Hakeswill was just in labour for too long."

"The baby," Jacob Cutler asked. "Was it a boy or a girl?"

"A girl," the midwife told him. "Would you like to see her?"

"Of course I would," he said quietly. "I want to hold my first grandchild at least once."

"We'll have her cleaned up in just a moment, so you can hold her," the woman promised.

"My wife," Obadiah asked, twitching in agitation as he staggered to his feet. "Is she all right? Can I see her now?"

"She's exhausted and she's lost a lot of blood and is still losing it," the midwife said. "She's likely not long for this world." Opening the door wider, she added, "You'd best come in and say your goodbyes."

With a heavy heart, Obadiah went in to see Jane, with her father at his heels. An exhausted Jane looked up at them with sad eyes, with the baby by her side in the bed.

"Obadiah." She reached up weakly for his hand. Her complexion was now chalk white, with dark circles under her eyes.

"I'm here, Jane," he said, pulling a chair to her bedside, while her father went to stand on the other side of the bed.

"I'm sorry," she murmured as he leaned close.

"For what, missy?: he replied, bewildered. "You ain't done nothing to be sorry for."

"I'm sorry I wasn't the kind of wife you wanted," she said quietly. "And I'm sorry I won't get the chance to be."

"Jane," he assured her. "This little bit of time we've been married has been the happiest time of my life, see? There ain't no need to apologize for nothing. You're the best thing that ever happened to me." He bent and kissed her cheek, which elicited a wan smile from her.

"I know we would have been happy together," she said, Turning to look at her father and sisters on the other side of the bed, she said, "Da, I'm sorry for all the trouble I've put you through. And Abby and Sarah, take care of Da when I'm gone, would you?"

"You're my daughter,' her father said thickly. "How could you be any trouble?" After Abby and Sarah had echoed similar sentiments, Jane turned her attention back to Obadiah, who was still holding her hand.

"Remember me, Obadiah," Jane murmured. "And thank you for everything."

"I'll never forget you,' he said fervently, twitching in agitation. "I'll always love you and carry you in my heart forever."

With one last, loving look at him and her family, Jane Cutler Hakeswill quietly breathed her last, her hand still being held by Obadiah.

For several long minutes, he continued to hold her hand, with tears streaming down his bony face, not wanting to let her go, his heart filled with despair.

Jane's father picked up the baby, who had been wrapped in a sheet, and cradled her close in his arms, mourning the granddaughter he'd never get to know.

Obadiah spared only one glance for the baby, enough to note the blond fuzz around her head that clearly indicated who had sired her, before returning his attention to the wife with whom he'd never get to raise a family. For the second time in his young life, he'd lost the only person who cared for him.

As Jane's hand cooled in his, he could feel his heart growing colder along with it. By the time he reluctantly rose from Jane's bedside so that her body could be washed and prepared for burial, he vowed to himself that Richard Sharpe would pay dearly for what he'd done to Jane, even if it took years to completely take proper revenge on the younger man.

After promising to be there for the funeral and to help pay for it, Hakeswill left the Cutler family to their grief, wanting to be alone with his. As he was about to leave the house, he heard a clattering on the stairs and turned to find that Abby had come down after him.

Following him outside, she bluntly asked him, "You are going to take revenge on the cad who did this to my sister, aren't you?"

"You can count on it, missy," Obadiah replied grimly. "Don't you worry none about that."

Abby stood watching him until he was out of sight, wishing she'd been more accepting of him, at least for Jane's sake.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

It was shortly before dark when Obadiah returned to camp, in no mood to talk to anyone. He headed for the warehouse, where he knew he was assured of solitude at this time of day. He went to sit at his desk, still numb from Jane's death. After an interval of staring mindlessly into space, he walked through the warehouse. As he neared the back door, where the men kept their things while they worked, he spied Richard Sharpe's uniform coat hanging from a peg, where he often left it when he forgot to take it back to the barracks at night. Staring at it for a long moment, the sergeant got a sudden inspiration. He quickly returned to his desk, where he had stored an extra bayonet in a scabbard in one of the drawers. Retrieving it, he went back to where the coat hung.

After a short pause, Obadiah slipped the bayonet from its scabbard, moving with cold purpose to the coat. Lunging repeatedly, he slashed the coat over and over and over. He did not stop until it hung there in tattered shreds. Dropping the bayonet onto the table, he leaned over, putting his hands on his thighs, breathing in heaving gasps as he twitched several times in rapid succession, with tears running down his face anew.

When his breathing returned to normal, he calmly returned the bayonet to its scabbard, then replaced it in the desk drawer. Going back to the remains of the coat, he gathered up the remnants and took it out the back door. Heading straight for the jakes, he threw the tattered pieces of cloth down the hole, then dropped his breeches to empty first his bladder and then his bowels.

Hakeswill left the jakes after he was done, now feeling spent. Back in his barracks moments later, he fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Early the next morning, Sergeant Hakeswill was up at his usual time and headed to the warehouse right on schedule. He had not mentioned his loss to anyone in his barracks or in the sergeant's mess and had no intention of ever talking about it with anyone from the army. It was his own private business and he would bear his grief alone. No one from the army would ever know that he had ever been married.

When he entered the warehouse, Richard Sharpe was missing. "Where's Sharpie?" he asked one of the privates. "He's late."

Before the private could answer, Corporal Sharpe shambled in through the back door, coatless.

"You're late, Sharpie," Hakeswill rasped out. "Think you're the bleedin' Prince of Wales, do you, and don't have to be here on time like the rest of us, eh?" Cackling malevolently, he added, "Was you wantin' us to come to serve you breakfast in bed, was it?" Not giving him a chance to answer, he continued, "And you're out of uniform, too Where's your coat, boy?"

"I've lost it, Sarge," Sharpe told him, his tone breezy and unconcerned. "That's why I'm late; I've been out looking for it. Thought I left it here last night, but when I came in, it was gone."

"Careless with the King's property, you are," the sergeant said. "Do you think them coats grow on trees, eh? Stealing is what I calls it."

Missing the cold undercurrent of menace in Hakeswill's voice, Sharpe laughed heartily, then said, "Sure would be easier if they did, Sarge!"

Twitching angrily, Hakeswill narrowed his eyes, then said, "I needs to have me a corporal who is responsible and takes care of the King's property proper, see? And that ain't you...Private Sharpe. I've put up with your attitude long enough, so you're done here."

Sharpe stood there in slack-jawed shock, not believing what he was hearing.

Before he could respond, the angry sergeant continued, "And 'cos none of these boys here is fit to be corporal, I'm going to have to go to the trouble of looking for another one to replace you." Chortling with glee, he added, "And I've got the perfect new duty for you, too. You're on latrine duty until further notice! You'll be spendin' all your time cleanin' every jakes in the camp 'til you're an old man, see?"

"You can't do that!" Sharpe exclaimed indignantly, instinctively balling his fists. "That ain't fair!"

"Want to hit me, do you, you son of a whore?" Obadiah jeered. "Go ahead and see what it gets you. I ain't seen a good flogging in a long while. Now get out of my sight and report to Sergeant Baker for latrine duty, 'fore I flogs you myself right here."

The sergeant had no intention of ever telling Sharpe what he'd done to earn his enmity. Better to let the miserable sod twist in the breeze, forever wondering, than to ever mention Jane's name to him.

Sharpe knew there wasn't anything he could do to help himself, so he left the warehouse shaking his head in confusion, having no idea what he could have done to set the irascible sergeant against him. He'd heard talk that Obadiah Hakeswill was half-mad and today's actions seemed to prove the rumours true.

As he stood by the window and watched Richard Sharpe head down the path to the latrines, Obadiah muttered to himself, "That's just the beginning, boy. If you thinks this is bad, you ain't seen nothing yet."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Two weeks later, the 33rd Regiment of Foot was given orders to ship out for service in India. Obadiah Hakeswill was pleased when he read the roster that told him that Richard Sharpe was among the group of privates who had been placed under his direct command.

Obadiah rubbed his hands together in anticipatory glee, thinking of all the things he could do to make Richard Sharpe's life in the army a living hell. While on foreign soil, he'd have much more leeway to do so without interference from meddling officers. And although the young man did not know it yet, at the moment of Jane's death, he'd earned himself a permanent place as Hakeswill's enemy.

END

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Acknowledgments

I'd first like to thank Bernard Cornwell for creating the Sharpe book series and the memorable characters of Obadiah Hakeswill and Richard Sharpe. Next, I'd like to especially thank the late Pete Postlethwaite and Sean Bean for bringing Hakeswill and Sharpe to vivid life and making them such compelling characters.

Next, I'd like to thank those people who run the following websites: The Sharpe Compendium, Sharpe Pointe, Brian's Richard Sharpe Timeline, and Jane Austen's World. I'm also grateful to Richard Holmes for his book, Redcoat, which was a treasure trove of facts about the British army during Obadiah's era. These sources were all quite useful when I needed to research for continuity and for matters of historical accuracy. Similarly, The Sharpe Companion by Mark Adkin was most useful for information about Sharpe's early years and his first meeting with Obadiah.

Last, but not least, I'd like to thank Susan and Esther for their continued support during the writing of this story. Their comments, suggestions, and brainstorming were of invaluable help to me, especially at points where I was stuck with writer's block. I appreciate it more than either of you will ever know.