Hervey 09 - Man Of War (18 page)

Hervey recalled it well, and smiled ruefully. ‘I do believe I led a cavalry charge there, or very close, these ten years past.’

His friend caught the smile. ‘Ah yes; so you did. Rather like Waltham Abbey, was it not?’

It had been an affair of Luddites, ‘blanketeers’ or whatever banner they marched under. In any case, it had been machine-breaking and worse on a grand scale. ‘I don’t recall that we had cause to shoot so many.’ Hervey’s tone was decidedly sardonic.

Howard took note of the signal. ‘Well, Retford –
East
Retford to be precise – returns a member of parliament, and since the place is no more now than a few farmhouses, there’s a move to give the seat to a city; Birmingham, I think.’

Hervey evidently strained at the less-than-momentous news.

‘Oh, it’s no very great business, of course, but Palmerston believes it to be his opportunity for principle. There are other seats too for “reform”. And all rather closer to home than the vexing affairs of Catholic voters in Ireland. He told me the other evening at White’s that he was giving it his gravest consideration, that he could not rest until he had persuaded the cabinet of the urgent need of redistributing a great number of seats.’

‘Is one of them Waltham Abbey?’ asked Hervey caustically. ‘If reform of parliament is truly to be had, I think it a pity that East Retford did not engage Palmerston sooner. I confess a growing detestation of such places!’

Howard raised an eyebrow sympathetically. ‘What are we come to if such men as you speak thus? Well, the duke has the reins now, so we may hope for better times.’

Hervey finished his coffee and laid down the cup. ‘But I don’t see the import of East Retford. Frankly, my dear Howard, I am interested in but one thing at present, and that is the progress of the inquiry.’

‘Of course, forgive me; I should have made it plain. Palmerston has asked that the inquiry be postponed until the question of East Retford is settled.’

Postponement was in some ways to Hervey’s advantage (especially if it were to be until after the wedding), but he was uncertain. ‘Why? I don’t see the connection.’

‘A public hearing on Waltham Abbey, with all the business of Irishmen and gunpowder, would serve only to strengthen the opposition to reform.’

‘Astonishing!’

‘That, it may be. But you and I wear uniform; I beg you would think as does a politician.’

Hervey sighed deeply. He did not envy the Duke of Wellington, who had worn uniform for three times as long as he, and yet now must deal with men who would change their coat for the price of . . . ‘So what is to happen?’

‘Sir Peregrine Greville comes to London in a fortnight or so and will begin taking depositions in camera.’

Hervey was further deflated. ‘Then there is no change in that regard.’

‘What regard?’

‘Sir Peregrine’s presiding.’

‘No,’ said Howard, sounding puzzled. ‘Were you expecting some change?’

Hervey shook his head. ‘I had . . . hoped . . .’

A clerk came in. ‘It is close to the hour, my lord.’

Howard rose. ‘Forgive me, Hervey, but I must attend on the commander-in-chief, now. As soon as I hear anything further to your advantage’ (he cleared his throat slightly) ‘or otherwise, I will of course send word at once. Do you wish, by the way, to see the
Gazette
, or were you able to find the United Service’s copy?’

Hervey had not yet looked for it; neither had he the time this morning to read it at the Horse Guards. In any case, the urgency had passed: Peto was well. ‘I thank you, no. I’ll be sure to find the club’s copy. I must not detain you any longer. I thought I might be required to make some deposition or other immediately, but if I am not then I think I shall leave London for Hounslow this afternoon, or tomorrow perhaps. And then,’ (he brightened the more) ‘for Hertfordshire.’

Howard returned the smile. ‘Why do we not dine together this evening? Palmerston will be at White’s, no doubt, even if but a short time.’

Other than the obvious pleasure of dining with his old friend, Hervey could see no merit in the invitation, and in the circumstances he could not be bent on mere pleasure. ‘You are ever kind, Howard, but I have pressing business.’ He thought to mention the vexations with Elizabeth (his friend had once had a
tendresse
in that direction, albeit very brief), and then thought better of it. Lord Hill could not be kept waiting, on any account. ‘But I should like very much that we dine when I am returned. In a week or so.’

He rejoined Fairbrother outside, and they walked together across the Horse Guards’ parade towards St James’s Park, Hervey wondering if he might write to Kat to urge her to take urgent action to detain her husband in the Channel Islands.

Fairbrother said something, but did not have a reply. ‘Hervey?’

‘Oh, I beg pardon. I—’

‘I said that the Guards were truly a most arresting sight.’

‘Yes, yes indeed . . .’ It was a useful observation by which to displace anxious thoughts of Sir Peregrine. ‘And, you know, they’re no mere dandies. I recall watching Sir John Moore’s regiments marching into Sahagun through the snow, and at Corunna. The Guards stood like no others. I never saw anything as fine.’

It was not
entirely
true: he had seen many a thing as fine in the infantry of the Line, but in action, in the face of the enemy; at other times they could be incapable of comporting themselves as soldiers, especially if there were liquor to be had. Somehow the Guards were the same whatever the place. It was their very appearance of superiority that was so heartening in the field. Lord John Howard’s boots had rarely touched other than a parade ground, but Hervey knew he would have served as well at Sahagun or Corunna – or Waterloo. ‘I have a high regard for their officers. They have a saying: the serjeants show a guardsman how to fight, and the officers how to die.’

‘I counted several black faces, too,’ added Fairbrother, with mock wonder.

‘Indeed?’ Hervey knew it had been Lord Palmerston’s desire to grant commissions to men from the Indies, but he had not supposed the initiative had borne such spectacular fruit.

‘Clad in leopardskins, and crashing about with cymbals!’

Hervey returned Fairbrother’s frown. ‘Ah yes, the sable drummers. Something of a tradition with their bands.’

‘Well, I cannot trouble over it. They are better housed and fed, by the look of them, than many a cousin of theirs.’

Hervey lifted his hat in return to a salute from a passing orderly.

‘How do they know to do that?’ asked his friend. ‘He must have passed half a dozen in plain clothes, and not once did I see his hand rise.’

‘It is a mystery to me, as you. And by the way, since you touch on the matter, I have been meaning to ask for some time: your honoured father – he intends holding his slaves still, I imagine?’

Fairbrother looked discomfited, and for the first time since leaving the Cape. ‘He does, and I profit from it. But in truth they are not slaves. They may not in law be free men, but they are not kept at the plantation by force. And they are well provided for, even in old age. My father employs as many hired hands as he has slaves –
more
, I think. He has not been able to buy these twenty years.’

Hervey wished he had not tilted at his friend. These were deeper waters than were safe to sport in – deeper, even, than the vexations of family. ‘My dear fellow!’ He put a hand to Fairbrother’s arm.

‘Think nothing of it. Where is it we go now?’

Hervey’s face creased, uneasy. ‘See, I fear I must desert you again. I have letters I must write. Could you bear to explore a little on your own once more – a couple of hours, say?’

Fairbrother looked entirely content with the suggestion. ‘Perhaps I may go to parliament and call on Mr Wilberforce?’

Hervey smiled, rueful. ‘You may indeed. I’m sure he would welcome it. But I think, from what I hear, you would find him poor company. He would but preach at you! Nor am I sure he still sits there. See, we shall breakfast early and then leave for Hounslow. I must pay my respects to the colonel and report on the state of things with my troop. And you may look about the barracks, and dine with the mess. You will be prodigiously delighted. Buy yourself a gay neckcloth!’

VIII
THE MESS GUEST

The cavalry barracks, Hounslow, next day

Hervey had been, if not in trepidation, then certainly wary of the return to Hounslow. He had, after all, absented himself, albeit entirely regularly, from the Sixth: as temporary commanding officer, he had taken the opportunity to post his own troop to the Cape, so that he would have a detached command. And he had done so when he might have supposed the new commanding officer – an ‘extract’, a man from another regiment – had most need of him. He fully expected a certain reserve, therefore, on that account. Fairbrother for his part was convinced that there would be some disdain of his colour, despite all the assurance of the past weeks. Lieutenant-Colonel the Lord Holderness, commanding officer of the 6th Light Dragoons, showed nothing but an entirely gentlemanlike disposition to both of them, however.

Hervey had long remarked the phenomenon of patrician command. Sir Edward Lankester had possessed it, his brother Ivo too – an easiness with all ranks, an assumption of equality in which the officer was yet
primus
, an effortless facility with the tools of the trade, which others acquired only with the greatest industry, a natural mastery of the situation – of ground and events – which spoke of some connection almost otherworldly. Strangely, though, both Lankesters had died at the head of the Sixth and yet few men in the regiment spoke of them now, as if they had been of such pure fire, saintly soldiers even, that none could feel true kinship. Lord Holderness had the air of the Lankesters. And as a consequence the Sixth would be well found and happy, and favoured by senior officers, who liked the security of association with such a regiment. It was welcome too, for – heaven knew – the Sixth had had their share of hard times and villainy.

‘I am glad you will stay to watch the beginning of the manoeuvres tomorrow,’ said Lord Holderness as they came to the end of their long interview, turning an ear to the open window as the band on the square struck up ‘Young May Moon’. Herr Schnatze had serenaded them a full hour, and the regimental march signalled the end of the practice. ‘I understand the new general officer commanding intends putting his regiments through their paces, seeing of what they are made. And, you may hear, we had the most agreeable of visitors yesterday, the Duchess of Kent and her sister, and Princess Victoria.’

‘Indeed, Colonel?’ replied Hervey, mildly intrigued. ‘Was their visit to any particular end?’ It was always good for a regiment to receive royal visitors. The dragoons especially thought themselves better for it. There were some who remembered Princess Caroline still, when
she
had been colonel-in-chief: she would flirt quite outrageously, and many a hardened old NCO would become like a thrusting recruit again when she was gone.

‘I believe the King is minded to give us a royal colonel.’ (Lord Holderness showed no inclination to exclude Fairbrother from the intelligence, nor even to beg his discretion.) ‘I wonder, though, what is your opinion in the matter, Hervey?’

‘I cannot but think it a fine thing, Colonel.’ Had he known Lord Holderness a little better he might have said that a royal colonel would add several thousand to the value of their commissions – as it had for the Tenth, whose colonel had for many years been the Prince of Wales. ‘Is it to be the Duchess, or Princess Victoria?’

‘Oh, neither of them. I do not think the Duchess would find the appointment appealing, in her present situation,’ (Hervey supposed his self-imposed exile had deprived him of the Court gossip) ‘though she is the most charming of company. And Princess Victoria is a mere child.’

Hervey frowned, and somewhat ruefully. His own mere child was perfectly capable of arresting attention.

‘Not nine years old, indeed.’

‘I should have known.’

‘No, I believe that His Majesty has it in mind to appoint the Duchess’s sister, Princess Augusta of Saxe-Coburg. She is her brother Leopold’s favourite, and Leopold is apparently of some moment to the nation.’

Hervey turned to Fairbrother. ‘You see what effect a regiment of light dragoons may have on affairs of state, without even turning out.’

Lord Holderness appreciated the joke. ‘Though our turnout shall have to be all the smarter for it: the King will watch the manoeuvres tomorrow.’

Hervey smiled again, more wryly still. ‘I doubt he’ll be content merely to watch, Colonel. No doubt he would want to report to the prime minister that he took the head of the army for a few hours.’

‘Oh, indeed,’ said Lord Holderness, well acquainted with the King’s mild delusions (he was known to describe how he personally was in the van of the cavalry at Waterloo). ‘But I rather think these manoeuvres are to be quite searching, not at all the usual evolutions. In any event, I hope so. Lord Hill is to attend.’

Hervey sat up. ‘Lord Hill?’ The King was one thing; the commander-in-chief quite another.