Hervey 08 - Company Of Spears (10 page)

By the time he reached his quarters in the officers’ house, the picket had alerted Private Johnson, and a good fire was taking hold in the hearth in his sitting room.

‘Ah thought tha were comin back afore now, sir. Ah didn’t know what to do.’

Perhaps it was the separation – Hervey was not usually without his groom for more than a day or so – but the vowels of Johnson’s native county sounded particularly alien. It was curious: Johnson had left those parts twenty years ago and more, had never returned save once, and very briefly, and heard them only in the speech of Corporal Stray and a few others, yet they had not moderated in the slightest. Indeed, Hervey was quite convinced that they had become more pro-nounced of late, as if Johnson took some sort of perverse refuge in them.

‘I was caught by the fever again, I’m afraid. Nor was I sure you would be still here.’

Johnson’s brow furrowed. ‘What’s tha mean, sir?’

‘The Bow-street men.’

Johnson muttered indistinctly and began poking the fire.

‘Well?’

He stood up, though his shoulders remained hunched. ‘T’serjeant-major says ah’ve got to go there in t’mornin, to Bow-street, ah mean.’

‘What for?’

‘Don’t know, sir.’

‘What do you mean you “don’t know”? They must have given a reason.’

‘Ah’ve got to see t’magistrate.’

‘What for?’

‘Don’t know.’

Hervey sighed. Long experience told him that when Johnson was in such a mood it was better to drop the subject. He would speak with the sarn’t-major in the morning. Even before the veterinarian.

‘Will tha be eating in t’mess, sir?’

‘I think, very probably, yes.’ But he had not yet read Lord George’s letter; and there was Peto’s to reply to … and Kat’s. ‘There again … I’ve work to do, and it was a hard drive. Come back at five with tea, would you? I’ll decide then.’

It was ten minutes before Johnson was satisfied that the fire had taken a good hold and the lamps were properly trimmed. He opened a bottle of claret, decanted it, poured a glass and set it down on the wine table beside the fire. He cleared a space on the writing table, muttered something about hot water, made to leave, and then remembered something. ‘Oh, ah’m sorry, sir. This express came for thee about an ’our ago.’

Hervey stifled a curse. But he was easier when he saw the hand: Somervile’s – most welcome. He nodded. ‘You might fetch me cake, or some such?’

When Johnson was gone, Hervey sat in the leather armchair by the fire, took a long draught of the claret, and broke the express’s seal.

Bedford-square
18th March

My dear Hervey,

Would you come and dine with us this evening, whatever the hour? I have a commission of which I would have you know at once, and a proposal.

Also, I go to Gloucestershire five days hence, and it would be advantageous, as well as agreeable to both Emma and me, were you to join us there too, for we are to make a party at the house of Sir Charles Cockerell whose name you will know from Calcutta. He keeps a fine establishment, in the Indian manner, and is sure to be appointed to the Board of Control erelong. I should say that accompanying us, at Emma’s invitation, will be Lady Lankester.

Send word if you are unable to attend this evening and propose yourself for any other as soon as may be.

Ever yours &c,

Eyre Somervile.

That settled the business of the mess. He would go to Bedford Square; indeed he would spend the night there, or at the United Service, and call on Lord George or the Horse Guards in the morning – whichever seemed most expedient. His decision regarding the quarantine would be all the better for measured thought in the regimental chariot. And as to Gloucestershire and the presence of Kezia Lankester, he might have detected the hand of the Almighty Himself.

It remained only for him to open the letter from his colonel.

He noted the form of address again, as if it might reveal the letter’s contents:

Major M. P. Hervey,
Officer Cmdg H. M. Sixth Light Dragoons,
The Cavalry-bks,
Hounslow.

It revealed nothing, however. It was the correct form; he would have expected no other. There was nothing for it but to break the seal and read.

He opened it hoping to see not too many words, for many words would assuredly be of explanation, and the only explanation needed would be of a negative. He was relieved: there were but a dozen lines.

Berkeley-square
17th March

My dear Hervey,

Nothing could have cheered me more than to receive yours of the 16th instant and its signifying your willingness to purchase. I have sent word to the Military Secretary and I hope profoundly that we may have it, though I wish I had had the letter but two days ago, for only yesterday I approved a list of bidders. I am travelling north this day for one week, but ere I go I shall write to Wellington, whom we may trust shall act favourably, and shall suffer you to call upon me the instant I return tomorrow seven days.

Believe me &tc,

Geo. Irvine.

Hervey folded the letter carefully. He was greatly encouraged, though annoyed that two days’ fever could occasion such a turn. But it was not to be helped, and he was confident that Lord George would be able to see the business through. He had always been able to.

Johnson returned with two slices of seed cake. Hervey took one and offered him the other. ‘Johnson, if you will, have Corporal Denny bring the chariot in an hour. And then present my compliments to the adjutant and ask him to arrange for the captain of the week to take tomorrow’s field day.’

VI

A DISTANT PROSPECT

Early evening

The chariot turned into Bedford Square a little fast, so that Corporal Denny had to pull hard on the leader’s reins to avoid colliding with a removals van near half as big as the house it was drawn up outside. In the gaslight, Hervey could see the bold red lettering on the rear doors:

John Durham
Manufacturer
Successor to Morgan & Co
16 Catherine-st, Strand
London

Morgan and Sanders he had known: their ivory plates were on the best camp furniture in India. He wondered who could be taking delivery of so large a consignment. Then he saw Eyre Somervile on the steps of number seven, tipping the van man a coin. What did Eyre Somervile want with camp furniture?

‘Hervey!’

His old India friend, lately Third in Council of the Bengal Presidency, and before that Deputy Commissioner of Kistna, Collector of Taxes and Magistrate of Guntoor district and the Northern Circars, but now something suitably exalted in the Honourable East India Company’s court of directors in London, looked exceptionally pleased with life. He had taken a house in this unfashionable part of the capital, albeit in a pleasant and modern square, to be close to the Company’s headquarters in Leadenhall Street, in whose library and collection of Indian artefacts he could take daily delight (his official work did not detain him long). He stood on the steps of number seven in a fancy powder-blue coat made for him by his tailor in Calcutta, oblivious to the fashion of a dozen years and more for dark colours and plain cut.
Sir Eyre Somervile K.H.:
there was no one Hervey would rather see at this moment, save perhaps Peto.

He advanced on the steps of number seven and firmly shook Somervile’s hand. ‘I’m sorry I did not come before. I have been most particularly engaged.’

‘Your old friend Coates, so I hear. Come inside.’

Hervey indicated Corporal Denny, who was standing holding the leader’s bridle.

‘Of course, of course. The chowkidar will show him the mews.’

When they were inside, Hervey grasped his old friend’s arm. ‘My dear fellow, forgive me: your knighthood – hearty congratulations!’

‘Great gods what a frippery!’ said Somervile, hardly raising an eyebrow, and making towards his sitting room. ‘This king – “mud from a muddy spring”, as your poet-friend had it. I am, anyway, more Ghibelline than Guelph.’

Hervey smiled. Eyre Somervile was never entirely predictable, but always diverting. ‘Then why did you accept the honour?’

The khitmagar had already poured two manly glasses of sherry. ‘Because, my dear Hervey, unlike you I do not scruple to use whatever means are put at my disposal.’

Somervile had once told him that he would be a disappointed man not to be made governor-general in Calcutta one day. And Hervey had been greatly impressed: not governor of Madras, or even of Bombay, but Calcutta – the
primus inter pares,
a position of (to all intents and purposes) vice-regal power. ‘I rather think I meant why the singular order of Guelph.’

Somervile looked at him obliquely. ‘You do know that it is the Guelph dynasty which rules in Hanover?’

Hervey made a pained expression. ‘Shrewsbury was, of course, an elementary sort of school, whereas
Westminster
…’

Somervile raised a hand airily. ‘Yes, Hervey, so you have sported with me before. And you gained a Greek prize, I seem to recall.’

‘Homer, yes.’ Then Hervey smiled again. ‘But in translation.’

Really,
Hervey! You make yourself out to be a very simple soldier, and it will not serve. Sit yourself down, sir!’

Hervey did, and was grateful, for even though he had been seated for most of twenty-four hours, a chaise was not entirely easeful quarters. ‘What I
truly
meant was why – if His Majesty’s government wished to advance you in rank – did they see fit to do it in so outlandish an order. Why not simply
knight?
’

‘How did your poet-friend put it? “A Senate – Time’s worst statute unrepealed”.’

Hervey shrugged. He knew the sonnet well; Shelley had written it not long after they had each left Rome. And he was as dismayed by its sentiment now as he had been then.

‘I imagine,’ continued Somervile, sounding magisterial, ‘that it was to overcome some objection by others perceiving themselves more worthy than I. You know who are more usually made Royal Guelphs? Men of science and letters. I was honoured, so some gentleman-fartcatcher at the palace graciously informed me, for my translations of Bengali texts.’

Hervey raised his glass, determined to be cheerful. ‘And most deservedly. But for what purpose, since you very evidently do not judge yourself to be meritorious, should His Majesty bestow that fetching blue-ribboned star on you?’ He nodded to a table piled with books and everyday things, on which the order lay as if it had been discarded as casually as an empty claret bottle (unlike Somervile’s Bath cross, of which he was enormously proud).

‘Ah, didn’t I say? I am to be lieutenant-governor of the Cape.’

It was so matter of fact that Hervey had to think twice what he had heard. ‘Somervile, my dear fellow, my very sincere congratulations! This is most unexpected, is it not?’

Somervile leaned forward to refill Hervey’s glass, though it was in less need of attention than his own which he then over-generously recharged and had to stand to find a cloth. ‘While you were doing your best to carry war to Spain,’ he began archly, dabbing irritatedly at the India cotton of his trousers and glancing uneasily at the door lest his wife should appear, ‘you may have overlooked the little matter of Lord Charles Somerset’s impeachment.’

‘Who is Charles Somerset?’

‘Who is Charles Somerset? Hervey, you astonish me.’

‘Then let me guess. I fancy that he is Lord FitzRoy’s …
elder
brother?’

‘Quite.’

‘And I fancy he is – or was – governor at the Cape.’

Somervile gave a look of ‘I should think so, too’. He sat down again, laying aside the cloth.
‘Is,
still, in name. Oh, he won’t be impeached of course. The Whigs want to make mischief, but the Beauforts are too mighty. He was recalled last year, and there’ll be no going back for him.’

‘How has he offended the Whigs?’

‘In a nutshell, by being altogether too autocratic.’

A smile creased Hervey’s mouth the merest fraction. ‘I imagine the elder brother, as the younger, was at Westminster. In your time, perhaps?’

Somervile sneezed and spilled snuff over the damp patch of his trousers. ‘Great snakes, whatever next!’ He stood up again to brush the offended patch, but there was now a smear of brown on the yellowed thigh, like the mark from a sweated saddle. He jerked the bell pull at the chimney-piece.

A khitmagar, turbaned, appeared almost at once. ‘Sahib?’

Somervile rattled away in Urdu so fast that Hervey could not catch even the broadest gist of it. He thought his old friend might need to retire before Emma’s appearance, and asked if they should adjourn.