Hervey 08 - Company Of Spears (25 page)

‘Matthew, at last you are come!’ She embraced him unselfconsciously, even before the footman was able to close the doors of her sitting room. ‘Have you dined? Shall you stay? Where have you been?’

Hervey found himself unable to answer any of her questions with candour. ‘We have had much to do in Hounslow,’ he tried.

‘Indeed? You have always found the drive here and back an easy one,’ she said, raising her eyebrows just enough to convey her meaning.

Hervey cleared his throat. ‘I—’

‘You have a chill or something, Matthew? Let me get you a little brandy.’

She pulled for the footman before Hervey could protest. He really had no intention of prolonging the call; to do so would be, to his mind, ungentlemanlike.

‘Kat, I—’

The doors opened. ‘M’lady?’

‘I believe Major Hervey will have some brandy, Charles.’

Hervey bowed. He knew he should have refused – but how? Now he would have to wait until the footman returned before he could come to the point of his call; and it would be twice as difficult to get to that point with every minute that passed.

‘Sit down, Matthew,’ insisted Kat, indicating the place next to her rather than the settee opposite, to which he was mentally heading.

He did as she bid him. Kat placed a hand on his. He pulled away, glancing at the doors.

‘My dear Matthew, are you quite well? Whatever is the matter?’

The footman brought him brandy, and a glass for Kat too.

Hervey took an unusually large sip of his. ‘Kat, I … I really don’t know how … that is…’

She looked at him as if he had taken leave of his senses. She took his hand again, although he had tried to withdraw it to safety. ‘Tell me.’

He sighed, heavily. ‘Oh, Kat.’

She began stroking his hand. He did not pull away. It was the last thing he wanted to do. ‘What is it, sweetest?’

He took a deep breath. ‘Kat, I have asked Lady Lankester to marry me, and she has accepted.’

Kat stiffened as if by an electric shock. Her hand grasped his the harder, and the colour went from her face. ‘Who is Lady Lankester?’ she asked, in almost a whisper.

Hervey screwed up his courage once more. ‘She is the widow of my former commanding officer in India.’

‘How very convenient for all,’ she said icily, letting loose his hand and folding hers in her lap.

He said nothing.

‘And when did this … development occur?’

‘Kat, I—’

‘Oh, do not be squeamish, Matthew. I would know the worst.’

He placed a hand on hers. ‘Kat, I … I have not been…’

‘What are you trying to say, Matthew? That the business has entirely come about since last we met, all of a week ago?’

‘Ahm, in a manner of speaking, yes.’

‘Great heavens! Then what do you know of her? That she can take charge of the camp followers, and give orders to servants in Hindoostani!’

‘Kat, I—’

‘The widow of your erstwhile commanding officer, you say? How
old
is she, Matthew?’

‘I don’t rightly know.’

‘Well,
imagine.
Is she older than I?’

‘No-o.’

‘Younger?’

‘I … suppose.’

‘
Very
much younger?’

‘Kat, what has this—’

‘Are you intending to
breed
from her? Is that your design, Matthew? Bear you a son and heir, will she?’

He cleared his throat again. ‘She has a child, a daughter.’

Kat pulled her hand free. ‘Ah, so now I understand. Do you love her, Matthew?’

‘Kat, that is not—’

‘I don’t care one jot what it’s not. If you loved her you would confess it at once, and with the greatest pleasure!’

He drained his glass. Kat immediately pulled the bell cord.

‘Major Hervey has want of more brandy, Charles.’

Hervey did not gainsay her. Indeed, he said nothing.

Nor did Kat for some time, not until the footman had brought more brandy.

‘Have you dined, or not?’

Hervey shook his head. ‘In truth, Kat, I’m not hungry.’

She pulled the bell cord again. When the footman returned she said simply, ‘Major Hervey and I will supper in half an hour, Charles.’ She turned back to Hervey. ‘Did you come by hack?’

‘No, by the regiment’s chariot. Corporal Denny is waiting.’

She turned again to the footman. ‘Charles, please see to Major Hervey’s driver and horses. They may all stay here the night. It’s too drear out to be driving back to Hounslow.’

‘But, Kat,’ protested Hervey, glancing at the footman, ‘I’m staying at my club. I go to the Horse Guards tomorrow.’

‘Then that is all the more reason to stay here.’ She nodded to her footman, who bowed and closed the doors behind him.

They rode out together the following morning. It was a frosted, quiet world, no one much about the market gardens or the green lanes of Chelsea, the carting traffic light, a mist on the Thames so that they could not see the south bank, and the cold air suppressing the worst stink of the laystalls. At the Royal Hospital, Hervey raised his hat to two pensioners marching in perfect step together, though each man had a wooden leg. This was Kat’s regular route of exercise; he knew it from many a morning. She took her exercise seriously, believing it to be in some measure a preserver of her youth. She knew women younger than she who were quite immobile. And they, poor souls, could not expect therefore to enjoy the company of any but men equally immobile.

Kat liked nothing better than the company of vigorous men, men in scarlet coats, men who would pay
her
attention rather than each other in their preoccupation with affairs of state, or of sport. Sir Peregrine was an undemanding, even accommodating, husband. She had once, in a heady, unguarded moment, thought she would leave him and live with her lover, but she had come to her senses in the double realization that she could no more forgo the luxury of Holland Park than could her lover throw up his regiment to live with her. And, lying awake in the early hours of this morning, her lover asleep beside her, content, she had concluded that there was no reason why the arrangement should not continue, with but the simple modification in her lover’s marital status. Providing, of course, he would not be so insensitive as to fall in love with his bride (she knew perfectly well that that was not his present condition, and neither could it be his betrothed’s). She must therefore find out what sort of woman was Lady Lankester. She could not expect to meet her very soon, but she had sufficient means of gathering intelligence on the gentry of Hertfordshire. She might even make a beginning this morning, and here, as they walked alongside the Physic Garden.

‘Matthew, dearest, one thing intrigues me about Lady Lankester – by the way, what is her name? You have not said.’ (As he had not said a lot of things, she felt like adding.)

Hervey changed hands with the whip as he came up on the offside of Kat’s mare, having at last got the young gelding round a hay-cart athwart the road. ‘Kezia.’

‘Heavens!’ She kicked herself: it really wouldn’t do to make any disparaging comment, no matter how provoked. ‘What I wanted to ask, what intrigued me, is why did Lady Lankester – Kezia – why did she accept at once when the acquaintance was so slight?
Oh,
don’t mistake me, Matthew: I can think of no reason why any woman should not at once accept an offer of marriage from you—’

‘Kat, really, you—’

‘No, Matthew, I do not jest. You are a most eligible man.’ She would not add ‘except in fortune’, for she did not wish him bruised at this stage. ‘But widowhood with a good name and adequate means would be a very respectable situation for her. Was she, do you know, predisposed to affection towards you; had she a
tendresse?

Hervey sighed, inwardly. It was a question he had asked himself; but that was very different from discussing the matter with Kat. ‘In truth, I don’t think I can say, except that perhaps Kezia Lankester is a woman of very decided … spirit. She went out to India with Sir Ivo, after all.’

‘I would have travelled to India had you asked me, Matthew.’

‘Kat!’

She loosed the reins a little, giving the mare a chance to stretch her neck after the collection of the previous half-hour. ‘You do not suppose she wishes to become colonel’s wife once more? I know what a powerful hold the prospect of command has for a man; does it, I wonder, extend to the female of the species?’

‘Really, Kat, that is quite outrageous! I never thought it for a moment.’

‘And she will not know, yet, of your disappointment in that regard.’

‘Stop it!’

‘Then we suppose that we do not in truth know why Lady Lankester accepted. “Le
Coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connattpoint.”’

Hervey smiled. ‘
Bonnes “Pensees”.
’

Kat smiled too. ‘You can be really quite clever, Major Hervey.’

He held the smile. He rather enjoyed being clever in Kat’s company.

She had been turning something else over in her mind, however, and she now judged it the time. ‘Your going to the Cape Colony, Matthew: a year, you say?’

‘That is what Eyre Somervile proposes. But the Horse Guards will have to approve it first’ (he smiled again) ‘though Somervile thinks he can bend the commander-in-chief to his will.’

‘I think it a capital idea. I think being second horse to Hol’ness – though he’s a fine man, I know well enough – would be vexing for you in the extreme.’

Hervey was surprised. He had considered this news to be as objectionable to her as the first, and when he had told her, at supper, she had seemed to confirm his fears. ‘You are very percipient, Kat. But I must say once more that this egg may miss the pudding just as did the first.’

Kat said nothing. But she had no intention of letting this egg break other than to her lover’s advantage – and thereby to hers.

Hervey was determined that in the business of the Cape – unlike the business of command – he would not waste a moment in advancing his cause. And an ideal opportunity had arisen that morning, for he had received a letter from General Tarleton asking him to call at the United Service Club, where Hervey’s newest supporter was staying for two nights on matters touching on his old regiment and the Horse Guards.

It was, too, a most promising meeting. The general’s manner was cordial throughout, and when Hervey revealed his disappointment in failing to secure command, Tarleton commiserated with him in the strongest terms, saying that it was the fault of a dozen years’ peace: he would have him command his
own
regiment had it not been so disgracefully disbanded! Indeed, he explained, it was in connection with this very matter that he intended calling this day on the ‘new commander-in-chief’, the Duke of Wellington (whom he referred to throughout as ‘Wellesley’ in much the way that a colonel might refer to a favourite cornet), for was it not time to re-raise every regiment of light cavalry that had so usefully extended the Line, now that Ireland looked set for trouble once more and so many regiments of Foot were being sent to the colonies?

Hervey had seen no immediate prospects for himself in such a petition – certainly not within a year at least – but he had recognized an opportunity to advance his ‘Africa suit’. He did not know quite how these things were arranged between senior officers – he did not need to, only that they were – but he believed that General Tarleton might prevail on the Horse Guards to assign the duty to him. Indeed, it was in all probability but a mere detail, to be attended to in passing; perhaps a matter for the staff only and not the duke.

Tarleton had appeared delighted by the request. He thought it a capital idea that Hervey should have the Cape commission: he would be glad to recommend him to the duke, and gave his opinion in the most decided terms that the duke would at once concur. And Hervey had felt much relieved that his future lay in the hands of such an eminent soldier. He decided therefore not to call on Lord John Howard: that would be better left until the morning, after the general had visited. He returned instead to Hounslow, but with a vastly lighter heart than he had come up with the night before.

XIII

FRIENDS AT COURT

Next morning

Shortly after eleven o’clock Hervey was shown into a waiting room at the Horse Guards by a civilian clerk who eyed him as if he might be dangerous. He was puzzled: it was, after all, a perfectly routine visit – not even official, merely a call on the assistant quartermaster-general, Lieutenant-Colonel Lord John Howard. After not too long, however, his old friend appeared, with a man he did not recognize. Hervey, in a plain coat (he was visiting privately), rose.

‘Lord Hol’ness, may I present Major Hervey.’

Hervey bowed.

‘Major Hervey, I am excessively glad to meet you at last,’ said Lord Holderness, with an easy smile and hand outstretched.

Hervey observed a man perhaps five years his senior, a little shorter than he, with fine, almost pretty, features, black hair cut quite short, an active sort of frame, and wearing the undress of the 4th Dragoon Guards, in which regiment he had been senior major, though for the last two years he had been on half pay, attending to his estates in Yorkshire. ‘Good afternoon,Colonel.’