Disclaimer: These are works of fan-fiction created for entertainment. It is not the intention of the author to infringe on anyone's copyright. No rights infringement intended. Warning: General Audience

The Sharpe Fan Fictions of Paul K.

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Bernard Cornwell’s

SHARPE’S Justice

Richard Sharpe and the
Peace of the Congress of Vienna

Screenplay Written by Patrick Harbinson and Bernard Cornwell.
Novel Adapted by Paul Kaster

PART THREE

1815 NEXT DAY

Chapter 20
KEIGHLEY
PARFITT’S HOUSE.

Parfitt and Rossendale had scheduled to meet to discuss plans for mills that John could invest in. John had ridden since sunrise to join the meeting. While they are talking about mills that are currently owned by others, but are vulnerable, with no announcement, the doors to the library open.

Parfitt and John turn to see who is disturbing them. Sir Percy storms in with Wickham behind and flanked by a pair of dragoons.

Parfitt questions, “Percy? What’s all this?

Sir Percy strides up to Parfitt. As he is taller, he stares down at Parfitt. In a tone of someone who is superior to the other, he angrily says, “I know your game.”

He pauses, “Weaken!”

Another pause, “Buy up.”

And now with the anger of the activities of the night and no sleep, “And where you can’t buy up, burn out.”

Parfitt looks to Rossendale, then back to Stanwyck.

“Percy, I…”

“Don’t Percy me, you jumped up gutter snipe.”

He walks slowly to front Parfitt.

“So, I was your target, was I?

Rossendale recedes behind Parfitt to let the two deal with this.

“My men to be butchered.”

“My engine to be destroyed.”

“My mills to fall into your pocket.”

“Well they aren’t going to, are they?”

“When mills start falling, they’re going to be yours.”

“While you rot in a cell thinking on your greed.”

Parfitt tries to interrupt.

“Sir Percy, I protest.”

“I knew nothing about your engine.”

“And, if workers have been hurt, I can arrange to compensate.”

Percy looks at him with contempt. He turns away to separate from Parfitt.

“Shut up!”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Percy turns to the door.

“Major Sharpe!”

Sharpe has been waiting outside. He slowly strides into the room.

He walks past Wickham and the dragoons to confront Parfitt. At the wing, Rossendale fears what may come.

Percy, “You have some demands, sir?”

“Yes.”

Sharpe steps closer to Parfitt.

“You, Sir Willoughby. You will write me a letter to Horse Guards.”

“You will tell the truth of what happened in Keighley Square.”

Rossendale turns away from both of them to move to a corner of the room.

“You will describe the role of Captain Wickham. And you will lay the blame for the deaths where it belongs.”

“At his doorstep.”

“Is that clear?” he hisses.

Sir Willoughby nods his head in assent.

Sharpe turns as if just noticing Rossendale.

“And, you my Lord, will obtain my release from the Scarsdale Yeomanry.”

John says, “I don’t know if I can.”

“You pulled strings to do it! Pull them to undo it.”

John looks at Sharpe.

“Yes, I will do it.”

“And, as for the rest, nothing has changed.”

“Do you understand?”

John nods.

Sharpe turns. Walks to Sir Percy.

Humbly he says, “Thank you, sir.”

Sadly, Sir Percy says, “Thank my son.” He smiles a fatherly smile.

Sharpe nods to him, then walks away.

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