Irish estates at his disposal, he had been able to purchase, for a sum, it was said, approaching ?22,000, the lieutenant-colonelcy of the 17th Lancers. But there again, to his credit he had travelled to the seat of war between the Tsar and the Sultan so that he might be shot over – officially, to accompany the Russian army in their campaign against the Ottomans in Bulgaria, and to relate what he observed to the Horse Guards – for although wealth might buy the Seventeenth smarter uniforms and better horseflesh, it was no substitute for some schooling in other than mock battle.
He took the fair copy from his portfolio. ‘It is written off Varna, my lord, aboard His Imperial Majesty’s ship
Lord Hill raised a hand. ‘I’m obliged. As you say, its intelligence is somewhat in arrears: this much we knew from the ambassador. See that Colonel Hervey reads it. You know, I was not minded to send anyone to observe this affair – Bingham can be deuced unrelenting – but I am certain now that it can only be to our advantage to see how these armies fare. The reforms in both are said to be considerable, but I wonder to what end? With a man like Hervey observing, we might have answer.’
‘Indeed, my lord. Will you see him now?’
‘I will.’ The commander-in-chief pushed aside his papers with an air of relish. ‘At what time is the levee at Prince Lieven’s?’
‘Twelve, my lord.’
‘Capital. I would not wish the interview to be hurried.’ He smiled. ‘I might even be able to impart some information to Lieven. He pressed me only yesterday at the Austrian ambassador’s to know who would replace Bingham, and when.’
‘Some might speculate on whether the inquiry were on the Princess’s behalf, my lord.’ Youell’s wryness was all the more for its being infrequent.
‘Indeed. Hah! What schemes Princess Lieven has to her name.’
The door was opened, and Hervey ushered in. He put his feet together noisily in the Prussian style and saluted, a confident presenting to the man who disposed the future of every officer in the army.
‘Daddy’ Hill, as he had been known throughout the Peninsular army for his attention to the comforts of his men, looked for all the world like an elderly cleric, his coat dark, his pate bald and his form somewhat portly. The contrast in appearance with the previous occupant of the commander-in-chief’s office could not have been more profound.
‘My lord.’
‘Hervey, I am excessively glad to see you,’ declared Lord Hill, rising and extending a hand. ‘Nothing warms the heart better on a day such as this than to see an old friend return safe from the fray.’
Hervey was taken aback, but agreeably, by the appellation ‘old friend’, for although he had galloped for the general at Talavera (and Lord Hill was not one to forget a service, especially one so capable as his had been that day), to be admitted to such a sphere, if in words alone, was honour indeed. All he could manage, however, was ‘Thank you, my lord.’
‘I have read your despatches with careful attention, and Sir Henry Hardinge likewise. I dare say there’ll be a ribbon in it.’
The attention of Sir Henry Hardinge, the Secretary at War, and a soldier of some distinction himself – this was recognition indeed, let alone the ribbon (‘C.B.’, with which he had been honoured after the storming of Bhurtpore two years before, was already notable for an officer with so recent a half-colonelcy). ‘I am glad to have been able to do my duty, General. As did others in that expedition – for one, Captain Fairbrother of the Cape Rifles, whom I should very much wish to present to you, sir.’
‘By all means, Hervey. And stand easy.’ He turned to Colonel Youell. ‘Have Captain Fairbrother’s name entered for the next levee, would you?’
‘Certainly, my lord.’
Hervey cleared his throat. ‘My lord, Captain Fairbrother has accompanied me from the Cape, and indeed he is here with me this morning. I had hoped you would receive him.’
Lord Hill frowned. ‘That is most irregular, Hervey. I stand not on great ceremony but I cannot have the business of the Horse Guards conducted with a complete absence of it.’
Hervey felt suddenly discomposed; he had evidently misjudged matters – overreached himself, even. ‘I beg your pardon, my lord.’
Colonel Youell now cleared his throat. ‘There is time before Prince Lieven’s, my lord.’
A smile displaced the commander-in-chief’s frown. ‘Very well. We shall receive your Captain Fairbrother. But first sit you down, Hervey. Take some Madeira.’
Hervey removed his forage cap, took a glass from the tray which an orderly brought, and sat in an armchair half-facing the commander-in-chief’s desk and the windows which looked out on to the parade ground. Snow was now falling so thick as to make St James’s Park at the far side quite invisible.
Lord Hill observed it too. ‘You were not with us on that blessed trudge to Corunna, were you, Youell?’
‘I was not, my lord.’ Youell did not add that he had been fevered on Martinique with General Maitland, a gentleman volunteer not yet seventeen.
‘Damnably cold, and the army behaved ill – not every regiment, not by any means, but too many. Badly served by their officers, some of them, and scandalously ill-provisioned. But that was no excuse.’
