A Regimental Affair (41 page)

The
Nottingham Mercury
was no less appreciative, and lauded the regiment in several editions. ‘We may safely say,’ it proclaimed with lofty certainty, ‘that there can not be a regiment in the Service more efficient, nor more just in its doings . . . than His Majesty’s Sixth Light Dragoons. Lieutenant-Colonel the Earl of Towcester has demonstrated himself to be an officer of very singular abilities.’

The report was taken up by
The Times
, too, so that Lord Towcester became, in the space of only two months, a name on the lips of London tattlers, and, some said, in Whitehall itself. Ezra Barrow even made a wager with his subalterns that his lordship
would be promoted major general within the year. Hervey half hoped that it would be so, for they would then be rid of a commanding officer in whom there was not the slightest confidence outside the pages of the newspapers, and with others equally illinformed. And yet he could scarcely wish the man to be placed in a position where there would be greater opportunity for him to make mischief. In truth, he wished that Sir Francis Evans would exercise some influence at the Horse Guards and hasten Lord Towcester’s advance to the half-pay list.

Predictably, Lord Towcester had raged when he had heard of the business at the Crow’s Nest, and had only been pacified when he learned of Sir Francis Evans’s hand in matters (although as the earl told Hervey pointedly, it was
he
who would make a report on his fitness for promotion, not the GOC). A few days after
The Times
’s report, Hervey was summoned to Nottingham to hear the results of the inquiry by the Excise commissioners into the events surrounding the French landing, which, in broad terms, exonerated him from all blame, but he was dismayed to learn later that the document had been with the lieutenant colonel for over a month.

Throughout this time, however, it was Henrietta who gave Hervey most cause for anxiety. In herself she appeared well, but the news of Princess Charlotte’s condition, which came by one means or another almost daily from London (once by letter in the princess’s own hand), had put her in low spirits. On the third of November she had received word that the Queen herself had expressed anxiety, for the birth of the royal infant was then a fortnight overdue, and there was yet no sign. Dr Croft was steadfastly refusing any intervention and the princess was becoming hourly more melancholy. Then, on the seventh, there was intelligence that Princess Charlotte was at last in labour; Henrietta’s spirits rallied. But on the tenth came the terrible news that Charlotte and her child were dead.

Hervey spent a despondent breakfast with Henrietta that morning. He had the greatest difficulty condoling with her to any appreciable effect, for a part of her sorrow was at the loss of an association which, though by no means ever close, was none the less true. Yet he also knew that there was an element of foreboding in her sorrow, and this he felt wholly powerless to ease. But he had to leave her temporarily, nevertheless, since Sir Abraham Cole had sent him a note the evening before, saying that there was
business of which he would speak, and in seclusion, and that he would come with his chaise at ten.

The melancholy news from London was dampening Sir Abraham’s spirits too as he and Hervey set off towards Welbeck next morning. Sir Abraham was of the decided opinion that it boded ill for the peace of the country, for with no infant heir to the throne on which the populace might dote, there was all too much opportunity for the Whigs – and even republicans – to exploit the ample shortcomings of the Prince Regent. He was sure that there would be trouble when it came to a coronation: the Princess Caroline was not going to be excluded easily, and might well become a figurehead for forces opposed to the Regent. Hervey questioned whether the princess would take such a course, but Sir Abraham pronounced himself sure that she lacked the sense to realize, let alone resist, such exploitation. Hervey felt some need to speak for his erstwhile royal colonel, but then thought better, for her reputation was now such that any reasonable man could not but share Sir Abraham’s opinion – albeit with the greatest sadness.

Sir Abraham said he was pleased beyond measure that the Luddite troubles seemed abated – finished, even – for throughout the North and Midlands the forces of the law were making inroads on the secretive organization. But he was unhappily of a mind that Luddite violence would soon be replaced by Reform violence – perhaps a more damaging thing than the sledgehammers of the machine-breakers, for its objective was less material than political.

The day was sunny, a fine autumn morning for all that the news and prospects were grim. After a little way further they stopped to drop the barouche’s half-hood, to continue with the senses open fully to the sights, the sounds and the scents of the season in this, said Sir Abraham proudly, ‘the finest of the shires’. In another half an hour they turned through the gates of Manvers Priory, a house about the same size as Sir Abraham’s own, but with a larger park and a small lake within its grounds. Hervey had seen it before only at a distance, for it had neither suffered attack nor threat of it, its occupant being an elderly dowager of the Dukeries. He was intrigued, therefore, as they pulled up to the front, and Sir Abraham bid him step down.

The house bore signs that the occupant was not at home, however:
the windows were shuttered, the chimneys idle, and there was no footman to attend them.

‘Lady Anne died three weeks ago, I’m sorry to say,’ Sir Abraham told him. ‘She was a good sort – knew her neighbours and village folk alike.’

‘It’s a fair prospect, the lake especially. Do I suppose that you bring me here because you intend taking the lease?’ Since Hervey had never met Lady Anne, there seemed no reason to express any particular regret at her passing.

Sir Abraham smiled. ‘You’re ever sharp, Captain Hervey. Yes, I had a mind to negotiate for the lease.’

‘Then you’ll not rebuild Clipstone? I thought that surveyors were already at work.’

‘Oh, yes. Indeed I shall rebuild Clipstone!’

‘Then why should you want the lease on this house?’

Sir Abraham smiled again, took a flask from the door pocket and offered it him. ‘Captain Hervey, command of the Sherwood Yeomanry falls vacant soon. The bench and the association are of one mind – that you should have it. And with command shall go the lease of Manvers Priory!’

Hervey had never been more astounded than by this proposition – not even by the appointment to the duke’s staff, nor the brevet and its promise of regimental promotion. He could scarcely make a sound, even of astonishment.

‘And, Captain Hervey – how may I put this? – you would be handsomely remunerated.’

‘Sir Abraham, I . . .’

‘And there are other inducements, indeed. The living of Manvers Parva is vacant – a very presentable one, I’m told – and the tenant of Manvers Priory has the advowson. There are one or two pretty cottages with the estate, too.’

‘Sir Abraham, I confess I am exceedingly flattered, more than I can express . . . but I cannot think entirely clearly.’

‘Of course, Captain Hervey, of course!’ said Sir Abraham. ‘This is scarcely a matter on which I would expect a decision from the
saddle
, so to speak. A week, shall we say?’

Hervey took his leave of Sir Abraham some distance from the grange, deciding that a walk might give him opportunity to
assemble his thoughts and objections before sharing them with Henrietta.

Although the new appointment carried the rank of lieutenant colonel, it would hold no seniority within the army as a whole. He would have to sell out from the Sixth, of course. But perhaps if he went on half-pay instead he could rejoin the colours later, as major possibly. Or, if his seniority and means allowed it, as lieutenant colonel, although that rank would require a prodigious sum of money. But Sir Abraham had hinted that the yeomanry command would not leave him impecunious – quite the opposite, indeed – although the upkeep of Manvers Priory and the social obligations of a commanding officer of yeomanry would also make their demands.

Then again, what prospects did he truly have with the Sixth? He stood on the wrong side of his commanding officer, and that would be enough to blight any hope of advancement. Yet how might he like leaving the regiment, perhaps for good, and those who had come to look upon him as more than just an officer? In the army, people came and went all the time. Nothing was permanent, and that, he supposed, was one of the strengths of the system, as well as one of its weaknesses. He needn’t leave
everyone
behind, though. He could make Armstrong serjeant-major and let him have one of the pretty cottages for his family, Collins could be promoted serjeant, and Johnson corporal. He might even be able to make Mr Lincoln quartermaster. There was much more to this advancement than just his own fortunes.

Hervey thought of his father. Was this not the very solution to his problems with the archdeacon? Why should not the Reverend Thomas Hervey become rector of Manvers Parva, and find his ease in its extensive glebe and two thousand a year? Elizabeth would be content, as the countryside was pleasant and there seemed rather more opportunity here of her moving in county circles. Even Mrs Strange could have employment in the parish school.

Henrietta, too, would have a house in which she might truly feel at home, not the mean little places they would otherwise have to take. Seeing her that night, asleep at the White Hart in Nottingham, he had come to realize how unkind was his transplanting of her from the elegance of Longleat to the soldiers’ camp. At Manvers Priory she would enjoy the company of her equals in the county, and indeed in the neighbouring ones, for driving was
a good deal easier than in Wiltshire. She and Elizabeth could see each other often again. Above all, she and he would see each other every day. They need hardly spend an evening, let alone a night, but in each other’s company. And here she could bear their children in comfort and safety, and raise them healthily. If ever a death had been more instructive than the Princess Charlotte’s and her child’s, he did not know of it.

As Hervey walked into the grange yard his mind was made up, and his opinion was strengthened – in respect of his reasoning at least – by the report which greeted him.

‘Hervey! Thunderously good news!’ beamed Seton Canning, rushing over from the picket post. ‘Those rumours these past weeks: well, we’re to see America after all!’

Hervey appeared perplexed.

‘The regiment is being sent to Canada with two others – infantry. There’s a great to-do about warship building on the Lakes. We’re wanted to make a show on the border!’

Private Johnson brought coffee into a sitting room at the grange, where Hervey and Henrietta were in earnest conversation.

‘Thank you, Johnson. That will be all. I shall not be at watering parade. Ask Mr Seton Canning to carry on, if you will.’

‘Right, sir.’ Johnson picked up his captain’s cloak and shako and left without another word.

‘No, Matthew,’ said Henrietta when the door was closed.

Hervey was astonished. It had not crossed his mind for one second that she might have any objection whatever. ‘But
why
, my love? Everything about this offer is so singularly attractive!’

‘No, it is not. Not everything.’

He was now thoroughly perplexed. ‘You have not seen the house, I grant you, but—’

‘It is not the house, Matthew.’

‘Then what is it?’

She sighed. ‘You speak of Serjeant Armstrong: why should he be happy to take his ease in a cottage in Manvers Parva? It would be like taking a foxhound from last year’s entry and putting a collar on it. And Corporal Collins, too: do you think he is so hungry for a serjeant’s chevron that he would wish to join a regiment of catshooters, as you call them?’

Henrietta’s forthrightness took him aback, as well as her evident grasp of military cant. She had rallied bravely from the morning’s news – that much was clear.

‘And what about
you
, Matthew? How should
you
like it? Do you mean to tell me that the prospect of trotting about Nottinghamshire for the next twenty years shall please you?’

‘My darling, it is not
I
whom I think of. There is the happiness of . . .’ He looked at the swelling at her skirts, slight though it still was.

She took his hand. ‘Matthew, dearest, if you are not happy then I can never be. And if you care to think on that you cannot but see that this business with the yeomanry would be a very sad affair indeed.’

‘But the orders for Canada?’

‘Matthew, your troop has been abuzz with life since the news came! I have no doubt that you yourself are eager for it too.’

She smiled so warmly that he could not help but concede her point, though with an embarrassed sort of grin.

‘But the
consequences
, my love: they scarcely bear thinking about.’

‘What consequences, Matthew?’

‘That you and I shall be parted, and at the very worst of times!’

Henrietta’s smile returned, accompanied by the familiar, disarming, little shake of the head. ‘Oh no, my love. We shall not be parted. For I have every mind to see Canada myself.’

TREATY OF PEACE AND AMITY BETWEEN HIS BRITANNIC MAJESTY AND THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

His Britannic Majesty and the United States of America desirous of terminating the war which has unhappily subsisted between the two Countries, and of restoring upon principles of perfect reciprocity, Peace, Friendship, and good Understanding between them . . . have agreed upon the following Articles
.