'But'

'No,' Harker said, more emphatically.

'Oh, get lost,' Eve snarled, and refused to sing any more.

When they broke for lunch, Eve pointedly avoided Harker, and found herself highly irritated when he didn't seem to notice.

They crossed the barricades at Ermine Street without incident, other than one of the sergeants recalling how Mister Harker had saved his life back in Nottingham in '04, and approached their destination as it turned dark. The mist returned, and a huge gothic tower of a building loomed out of the mist, the setting sun swathing it in an eerie red halo.

'Is anyone else expecting to see a big black dog?' Eve whispered, and then very nearly screamed when a dog barked from inside the house.

Harker, she noticed, kept his face immobile, but his shoulders were shaking.

'This,' he announced as they crunched up the drive, 'is Hatfield Chase, the home of Sir Dennis and Lady Winterton.'

'Not Dracula?' Eve asked.

'Tallulah, you know these people. Are they acquainted with a person known as Dracula?' Harker asked, straight-faced.

All eyes turned to Tallulah, who winced. 'I don't know,' she said.

'Hmm,' said Eve, leaning against one of the pillars supporting the grand entryway. 'Mr Harker and Dracula's Castle. Just call me Mina.'

'Eve' Harker began, then shook his head and turned away from her. 'Sir Dennis and Lady Winterton,' he repeated determinedly. 'They are friends of General Wheeler and staunch supporters of Parliament. They are also filthy rich, have donated not only large amounts of money but a car to the war effort, plus,' he looked as if he could hardly believe it, 'they have in addition another car. They have a private oil supply for said vehicle which also powers the electricity to most of the house.'

'Ooh, electricity. Do they have ceiling lights?' Eve asked waspishly.

'That's none of your business. You will be polite to them. You will be respectful. You will not leave muddy footprints around and you will watch your language; Private Banks, I am looking at you.'

'Yessir.'

'We will be using this house as a base. As it has electricity, we will be setting up the computer here as and when we find appropriate parts.'

'Gonna build it from the keyboard up, are you?' Eve said, and was ignored.

'Captain Haran, you will stay here the majority of the time and when we are away, Eve Carpenter is in your sole custody. She disappears, you are responsible, is that clear?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Right.' Harker stepped up and lifted the big brass door knocker on the big oak door. It echoed, even through the fog, and when the door opened, it was with a creak which made Eve giggle.

Harker saluted. 'Major Harker of the 75th of Foot, at your service,' he said.

The elderly man standing there looked him over and didn't seem impressed, but he said, 'I will fetch her ladyship,' and disappeared into the gloom of the house.

The squad fidgeted awkwardly on the steps. Behind them, the horses whickered. Eve tried to remember whether Jonathan Harker had married Mina or Lucy and which of them survived Dracula.

Harker's wife, seduced in a remote gothic castle. She shivered, and not because of the cold.

The clatter of heels heralded the arrival of the lady of the house who, like the pearls and evening dress she wore, had clearly seen better days but wasn't about to admit it. 'Ah, yes,' she said. 'Now, do come in, it's glacial out there. That's it, into the hall; there aren't many of you, are there? Do you have any horses? Benson will show you where to put them.'

Harker motioned to Banks to follow the butler, who looked at him as if he smelt bad.

'Now, my husband and I were just partaking of some sherry,' said Lady Winterton, as she led them across the tiled floor of the cavernous lobby, her heels clicking. As she pushed open a thick door, a cloud of cigar smoke greeted them.

'This is my husband, Sir Dennis. Dennis, do wake up.'

Sir Dennis, who had been snoozing by the fire, snorted and smacked his lips. He had grey hair, a thick moustache, and a purple nose. Eve could feel Harker trying not to laugh.

'What? What? Oh,' Sir Dennis said, peering at the squad, who were looking rather the worse for wear. 'Oh yes. Hmm.' His gaze lingered on Tallulah. 'D'you know, that young filly's the absolute spit of Brig Watling-Coburg's oldest?'

Eve struggled to keep a straight face. I didn't know people actually talked like that.

'Remember, Margaret, she married that dreadful common little oik from the ranks?'

The squad froze. Inside Eve's head, a memory popped like a burst vein. And in an accent as crisp as a February morning, Harker said, 'Indeed, sir. I think I can bring him to mind.'

Charlie was laughing so hard she could barely stay on her chair, 'I thought I was going to die.'

'When you said,' Daz put on his poshest accent, '"Can't trust the rank-and-file at all, sir," I thought that was it. I thought, I can't keep a straight face any more.'

I could, Eve thought, her shoulders tight, not sharing in the fun. Irritation, hot and prickly, spread through her veins.

'But how could he not know?' Banks said, incredulous. They were in the kitchen, having beaten a hasty retreat before the squad all exploded into laughter. 'If he was there at your wedding, sir?'

Tallulah giggled into her mug, which contained something rather stronger than tea. 'He looks a little different now,' she said.

Eve glanced at Harker, who was cradling a mug in scarred hands. His jacket was unbuttoned and stained with mud and blood. He didn't seem to have shaved once during the entire journey, and had the hairstyle of a man who thinks a comb is for nancies.

Eve wanted to thump him, and the really annoying part was that she didn't really know why.

'Oi, less of it, Private,' he said. 'Just 'cos I ain't wearing my shiny dress uniform.'

Tallulah giggled again. Eve figured the gin was going to her head.

'You wore a shiny dress uniform?' Daz said.

'Well, when I got married. So did Charlie, didn't you, Charlie?'

Daz goggled. 'When did you get married?'

The rest of the squad burst into laughter, except for Eve, who still wasn't finding it as hilarious as the rest of them.

Was it the sudden revelation that Harker's ex-wife ran the regiment? It hadn't bothered her when she knew it was Tallulah's sister in charge, and it hadn't bothered her to know Harker was divorced.

But then, she'd sort of imagined that his relationship with his ex-wife was as distant and painful as her parents' had been. She hadn't imagined that he'd still be literally taking orders from her.

Still, when it came down to it, close to her.

It shouldn't be bothering Eve at all. But that very fact made it all the more irritating.

'I didn't,' Charlie said. 'I was best man at Mister Harker's.'

'Best woman?' Banks said.

'We're all men in the military, Private,' Martindale said.

'Yeah? Then why don't we all share showers?'

'Speaking of,' Harker said, getting to his feet, 'housekeeper's made up rooms for us. Seems the West Wing is afflicted with damp, so there weren't quite enough to go around.'

The rest of them groaned, apart from Banks, who perked up.

'We're all sharing?' he said, waggling his eyebrows at Tallulah, who giggled some more and kicked him under the table.

Eve entertained dark thoughts about Harker sharing with his ex-wife.

'The housekeeper apologises but she's only got one room for the male enlisted men and one for the female enlisted men. Which means, Banks, as the only male enlisted man stop laughing, Lu you get your own room.'

'I what?' Banks said, astonished.

'Where do I go?' said Eve.

Harker glanced at her and frowned. 'You can sleep with the bleeding servants if you don't stop scowling.'

'... never had me own room ...'

Eve stood up, her expression no less cheerful. 'Fine. Room in the attic, is it? Or shall I curl up in the fireplace?'

'Sleep where you like, then, I don't care,' said Harker, no longer smiling. He nodded at the rest of the squad, and stomped out.

'Well done,' said Charlie, and trotted after him, which only made Eve scowl harder.

'If she was one of my men I'd set her to digging latrines,' Harker said to Charlie as they climbed the servants' stairs.

'Do it anyway,' Charlie said. 'She's not exactly a civilian.'

'Yeah, but she might be. What if she just hit her head or something? Then we're abusing a prisoner.'

Charlie rolled her eyes. 'And what if she's a spy? Then you're being far too lax with her.'

'Yeah, but what if' Harker broke off and raised his hands. 'No. I ain't doing this, it's going to drive me crazy. I'm going to take Sir Dennis's car tomorrow, recce around Leeds, see what the security's like there.'

'Can't imagine them just letting people walk in,' Charlie said.

'Yeah. Reckon we'll be looking at guards, maybe identification papers. If that's the case, I'll have Banks nick some.'

'What, and pretend to be people who live there?' Charlie frowned. 'No. What if someone on the gate knows the person whose papers you've stolen?'

Harker rolled his eyes. 'Then we'll use them to make our own copies. I don't know, Charlie, I'm winging this.' He paused, and added, 'But don't tell anyone I said that.'

She grinned, pushing open the door that led to the corridor of the East Wing where they'd been billeted.

'There's a bathroom at the end,' he pointed. 'Yours is the third on the left. Night, Charlie.'

'Night, sir.'

Harker, as the superior officer, had been given not just a room but a suite, which had a bedroom, sitting room, and its own bathroom. Harker had never had his own bathroom before. Hell, until he got divorced, he'd never had his own bedroom.

He wandered around for a bit, turning on the hot and cold running water, flushing the toilet just for the hell of it, flicking the electric lights on and off. Sir Dennis might be an ass, but he kept his guests in fine style.

The bed was divinely soft, a little disturbing for someone used to a blanket on the ground. Not remotely tired, he pulled on his clothes again to go down to the kitchen for a glass of something. Milk, maybe with the last of the gin in it. Or maybe just the gin on its own.

He was only two paces down the corridor when the bathroom door opened and Eve came out, looking freshly scrubbed. She hesitated when she saw him, then scowled and turned away.

'Eve,' he said, and she stopped. He saw, rather than heard, her sigh. Then she turned around, one eyebrow raised, her expression telling him she wasn't nearly done being angry with him.

'Look,' he said, 'I don't know what's got you in this mood, but'

'Then try and figure it out,' she snapped, and Harker lost his temper.

'Why?' he said. 'Eve, you are not one of my men, I have no obligation to you, and I sure as hell don't care what makes you happy. I have bigger things to worry about than if you're offended or not. But I do need you on my team, so'

'Oh, do you? Then you might try treating me like I am a member of your team,' Eve said, 'and not a prisoner or a servant, which is what I've been so far.'

'I do not treat you like a servant,' Harker said, surprised. He didn't think he'd ever treated anyone like a servant. He was proud of it.

'Oh, yes? "Sing a song for us, Eve. No, not that kind of song, this kind of song. No, not like that, it might upset my men. It might make them think." And heaven knows you don't want anyone to think.'

'Oh, that's it, is it? Because I told you not to sing that song?'

'Not just that one song, all the songs. Nothing about war. Nothing about religion. Nothing about anyone thinking for themselves. Because if they think for themselves, maybe, ooh, maybe they'll start to think those rebels have a point. Maybe they'll think they don't want to fight them. Maybe they'll start to question the whole war.'

'Eve,' Harker said warningly, but her face was tight with fury and she didn't look like she was about to stop. He took a step forward.

'Because you know what? Maybe they do have a point. This country is dying, Harker, it is broke and it is starving. You have nothing to sell that anyone would want to buy, not to mention that you've blockaded all your ports yes, I was listening so not much could get in or out anyway! You have no industry to speak of, you're surviving on the barest rations of what you can manage to grow and refine yourselves and that's not much. And you're fighting a war that you're losing.'

Harker leaned closer and spoke in a low voice because he wanted this conversation leaking through the walls to his squad like he wanted a fresh bullet wound.

'We are not losing,' he hissed. 'We have all our main cities defended'

'What, like you were defending Lincoln? And Peterborough? I know a little bit about trench warfare, Harker, like how bloody slow and futile and horrific it is. All it does is get people killed in large quantities. That's your main industry here, killing people. And don't you deny it, because your army is so desperate it's conscripting, and it's not just conscripting men, but women'

'Who, as you're demonstrating, are quite able and indeed eager to fight,' Harker said.

'But you're running out of men! They're all dying. I saw the aftermath of even that little skirmish in the fens, and it scared the life out of me, because there were so many men and women there, who just won't be coming back to fight. You're losing men every day.'

'Not my men,' Harker said fiercely.