Hervey 10 - Warrior (6 page)

'The canteen!'

'One o' t'clerks from t'ord'ly room—'

'Damn the clerks! Enough of it!'

Johnson made a 'please yourself' face.

Hervey said nothing.

They sat for some time, the silence broken only by the ticking of the long-case clock in the otherwise empty headquarters room to which they had retreated while the chariot was fetched.

'T'adjutant 'ad a lot o' letters for thee, sir,' tried Johnson, softer, after a while.

Hervey reached into his pocket. 'I have them.' He began sorting through the bundle absently.

There were a dozen and more, some in unfamiliar hands (he would attend to those later). But one, he noted, was from Kat, which pleased him unexpectedly.

'Shall ah be gooin, sir?'

Hervey hesitated. 'No. Stay, if you would.' He opened the letter.

Holland-park, 19th June

My dear Matthew,

(It was written the day after his wedding, and Kat had moderated her salutation, as was only appropriate to his new state. He supposed, too, that it was the correct form for an erstwhile lover to adopt if she were to continue in correspondence.)

I write with news that I am confident you will find most welcome. Today I had occasion to visit with Captain Peto at Greenwich. I found him in the most excellent spirits, despite his most cruel injuries, and I perfectly see why you are so particularly attached to him. He received me with the greatest civility, and when I spoke to him of our acquaintance he was at once all solicitude on your behalf, asking how was the marriage service and expressing his deepest regrets that his situation had not permitted him to attend. I told him that it had been the most perfect occasion and your bride the most perfect picture of contentment, as indeed was the bridegroom. He was, of course, much cheered to hear this, and I was only grateful to have been the envoy of such joyful news. Of his own disappointment he spoke very freely, and of his wish that your sister enjoys the happiness that has lately come to you. In this, I confess, I was truly most moved, for such a sentiment, of the very deepest selflessness, is not commonly to be found, and I resolved at once to tell him of the offer which I had secured of George Cholmondeley. Captain Peto was instantly delighted, for he knows Houghton and admires it, and he declared that he already felt himself bettering for the news. And so it has been arranged that at the end of the month I shall engage a dormeuse for him and convoy with my own chariot to Houghton, where I shall remain for a week or such time as there is need of me, and I tell you this for I know that you shall return to the Cape Colony before long and that you might wish to see the place in which your friend will be so agreeably settled, even perhaps to accompany him thither . . .

Hervey smiled in the knowledge that his old friend Sir Laughton Peto, so grievously wounded at the Battle of Navarino Bay nine months before, was raised in his spirits. It had, indeed, been a most handsome scheme of Kat's. She had, without a word from him save a description of his old friend's situation (an invalid, of what permanence the doctors could not tell, at the naval hospital at Greenwich), sought out a protecting billet at Houghton Hall in Peto's own county of Norfolk – near where he had taken a lease on a house (in which he would have lived with Elizabeth if only she . . .). And Kat had brought the happy news to the wedding, seeking him out at the breakfast to complete his own joy that day: 'And George' (the new, young Marquess of Cholmondeley) 'has most eagerly contracted to attend to all dear Captain Peto's needs until such time as he is able to return to his own house. Such is dear George's patriotic admiration of his service.'

It had indeed greatly increased his joy, and he had thanked her prodigiously. Indeed, he had declared that he was ever in Kat's debt. And most certainly, if there was the least opportunity, he would go to Norfolk to see his old friend settled. He read on.

Perhaps you will communicate with me as soon as may be, so that I might make the arrangements. I shall be at Holland-park, and quite at home to visitors should you find it more convenient to close the matter directly. I write to you c/o Hounslow since of course I have no knowledge of where you shall be until you and your bride depart for the Cape . . .

Hervey sighed, delight and discontent mixed in equal measure. It was, of course, quite impossible that he should go to Holland Park, although it would certainly be most expeditious – and, indeed, a good sight more economical than sending messengers and expresses back and forth. He resolved to write immediately on arriving at Hanover Square, proposing that they tea together at, say, Grillon's, or even that she call on them at Kezia's aunt's (though probably, on reflection, this latter would not be exactly felicitous . . .).

'Good!' he declared, emphatically.

'What is, sir?' asked Johnson, feeling his presence of no great purpose.

'Captain Peto,' replied Hervey, not very helpfully, turning his attention instead to the despatch with the Horse Guards' stamp.

His face fell.

'What's up, sir?'

Hervey handed him the letter.

The Horse Guards
19th June 1828

Major (Actg. Lt-Colnl.) M. P. Hervey

H.M. 6th Light Dragoons

Sir,

I am commanded by the Military Secretary to inform you that the Commander in Chief has been pleased to advance you to the substantive rank of Lieutenant-Colonel, without purchase, and to command of the First Battalion of His Majesty's Eighty-first Regiment of Foot, effective from the First of January next.

I remain, sir, your obedient servant,

Henry Upton,
Colonel.

'That's very nice!'

Hervey made no reply.

'Why's 'e call thee "sir" when 'e's a proper colonel?'

Hervey shook his head. 'It's just the way. Probably to put one in one's place.'

'Ah don't understand . . .'

Hervey turned his head, as if to look from the window.

'But that's right good, sir, isn't it? Tha'll be a proper half-colonel, an' tha won't 'ave to pay for it!'

Hervey turned back to him. 'You don't see, do you? And why should you? If I am appointed to command of the Eighty-first, I can never then be appointed to command the Sixth.'

III
IN PARTIBUS INFIDELIUM

London, later that day

Kezia had retired by the time they reached Hanover Square. The manservant who admitted them explained that her aunt was not expected to return from a firework fête in Regent's Park until midnight. Hervey decided instead that, since he would need to make an early start of the business the next day, his best course was to take a room at the United Service Club. This pleased Johnson: the servants' dormitory at the United Service was perfectly comfortable, and it had the advantage of not being under the supervision of his new mistress. The mixed feelings provoked by the military secretary's letter also doused Hervey's desire for company.

He would have to tell Kezia, of course, and soon, for once these things were gazetted it became the common talk. But Brighton had not quite paved the way for such unexpected news to be sprung at once, and he thought it perhaps best to gain intelligence of the Eighty-first – their station and the like – before broaching the subject with her. Not that he ought to be entertaining his mixed feelings, of course: command of a regiment of the Line, albeit Foot, was a distinction not bestowed on many. And command without purchase, besides being welcome for its economy, was a considerable accolade. There was no doubt his star was bright and rising. He was certain that Kezia would recognize it. Or rather, he was sure he would be able to explain it to her if she did not.

Just for a second – the merest moment – he imagined what Henrietta would have said. And he felt the warmth; and smiled.

Next morning he went early to the Horse Guards. His friend Lord John Howard was already at office, and received him at once. 'I fancy I know why you are come,' he said, rising and offering his hand. 'I must congratulate you on your promotion, though I suspect it is not wholly to your liking.'

Hervey removed his hat, and sat down in the familiar chair by his friend's desk. 'I thank you for your good wishes, but, no, it is not wholly to my liking.'

'You have breakfasted?'

'You somehow perceive that I have not. Nor do I have the slightest appetite.'

'I intended suggesting we repair to White's.'

Hervey half smiled. 'You are ever kind, Howard, but I can't detain you thus. Some coffee, perhaps?'

Lord John Howard rang the bell for a messenger. 'The Eightyfirst are a fine regiment, as the Line goes. And it generally goes well, does it not?'

Hervey nodded. 'I don't doubt it. I know it, indeed. I first saw them at Corunna.'

'And I know, too, that Sir James Kempt was pleased to approve the nomination.'

'Kempt is colonel?'

'He is.'

Lieutenant-General Sir James Kempt had commanded a brigade at the storming of Badajoz. Some of Hervey's dragoons had helped carry him to the field hospital. 'I am flattered.Where are they stationed?'

'Canada.'

Hervey had supposed them – for some reason – in Ireland. Canada had unhappy memories, and few opportunities now for an officer to distinguish himself. A look of further disappointment overcame him.

'Have you thought to speak with Irvine?' asked Howard solicitously. 'There may yet be time . . . before it is gazetted.'

Lieutenant-General Lord George Irvine, colonel of the 6th Light Dragoons, had recently been posted to the Unattached List, pending appointment in Ireland. It had long been his wish that Hervey have command of the regiment in which both had served together. But circumstances had contrived to confound him in this – and indeed his predecessor. Money had spoken, for all that the late commander-in-chief, the Duke of York, had tried to moderate the excesses of purchase.

'I have,' said Hervey, nodding firmly. 'But forming any question of him, decently, would not be easy. I can hardly ask how long he expects Hol'ness to remain in command.' Nor, indeed, would an indication of short tenure be necessarily to his advantage. Lord Holderness effectively owned the appointment freehold. In spite of the regulations, he could still name his price. And Hervey, for all that Daniel Coates's legacy provided for him to purchase command at regulation price, could not match some of the figures being bandied.

'You might simply ask what he advises?'

Hervey nodded again, but unconvinced.

The messenger brought coffee.

Howard took his cup and leaned back, as if to emphasize the decidedness with which he would speak. 'I believe I must tell you, truly, from all I see and hear in this place, that your prospects for purchase are lamentable – even if Hol'ness were to sell out, that is. You know, do you not, what price Bingham paid for the Seventeenth?'

The transaction had occurred not long before Hervey had first left for the Cape. 'Five thousand?'

He said it with an ironic smile. The regulation price was five thousand pounds. Payment in excess had been illegal for several years. The Grand Old Duke had, indeed, made overpayment an offence before the King's bench. An officer could be fined, or imprisoned, and the transaction cancelled. There had not been a single prosecution, however.

'
Twenty
-five.'

Hervey's mouth fell open.

'And do you know, by the way, what dear old Bacon has done?'

Anthony Bacon – an acquaintance of Hervey's from Peninsular days – had been the Seventeenth's senior major (just as Hervey was the Sixth's). He had confidently expected the command to come his way.

'No.'

'He's sold out, and thrown in with the King of Portugal. A mercenary!'

Hervey could scarce believe it. Anthony Bacon, whom Lord Uxbridge, commanding the cavalry at Corunna and Waterloo, reckoned to be the finest of his officers, and who had married Lady Charlotte Harley, whose father was very probably the King! What chance did he himself have if Bacon were dealt with thus? He shook his head. 'What manner of system do we have?'

He did not expect an answer of his friend, save perhaps, as the old saying went, that hard cases made bad law. The Duke of Wellington was the strongest supporter of purchase. Even Hervey was not so much opposed to the
principle
of purchase (he had seen its beneficent results), as to the abuses. Was it so very difficult to root these out?

He shifted awkwardly in his chair. 'Might . . . d'ye suppose . . . Lord Hill see me?'

Lord John Howard shifted in his own chair as awkwardly. 'My dear friend, you know that I am ever willing to advance your cause, but to arrange an interview with the commander-in-chief, I—'