The fresh pair of livery horses brought from Warminster took the carriage at a good speed along the turnpikes. Repaired in the spring and not yet rutted by the autumn rains, the roads admitted comfortable progress and, thereby, easy conversation, but neither of the occupants of the carriage spoke a word. By six o’clock they were in Whitchurch, and the coachman hove in to a posthouse to water his team.
As they stepped down Howard broke the silence. ‘Look, Hervey,’ he began with a warmth in stark contrast to his earlier cool formality, ‘this is very unsatisfactory for you. I was sent by General Calvert after a great deal of shouting in the commander-in-chief’s office when the Duke of Wellington returned. I allowed my own vexation at having to be about this business to intrude upon my courtesies with your family. I fear they may not forgive it, your sister especially, and I had no right to presume your guilt in the matter, either. I beg your pardon.’
‘Thank you, Howard, but it is no matter,’ replied Hervey with a shrug. T was unquestionably hasty in leaving the Horse Guards that morning, but it was not on my own account that I did so. And as for my family, well …’
‘Will you be wantin’ t’eat, m’lord?’ called the driver.
‘No, we must press on at best speed speed, Allchurch. I want to be through the Piccadilly bar by seven. We will need to change horses in Farnham, I would suppose. I’ll sleep a little now and relieve you of the reins in the early hours if you wish. You are quite sure of the road?’
‘Oh ay, y’Lordship: it’s changed not a farthin’sworth since past years. This team’ll get us to Farnham betimes. I’ll prime the pistols now, though: it used to be a bad stretch here to Guildford in the dark.’
Their progress along the turnpike, with the fullest of moons, was faster even than by day, for there was little carting traffic until they reached the outskirts of London in the early dawn. Allchurch had stopped only once, in Farnham, to change the two bays, and by five they were in Chelsea village, slowed to a walk by the carting traffic into the city and by that already returning with horse dung and night soil, a convenient circular trade. Both passengers were now awake, Howard strangely animated by the bustle, in telling contrast with his languor at Horningsham. Along the King’s Road he jumped out and stopped an ice-cart, empty but for one block under an insulating canvas. He bought three pieces the size of house bricks, throwing one up to Allchurch and then climbing back inside to give one to his charge. Hervey smiled at him for the first time.
In less than an hour they were passing the bar at Piccadilly and, turning into St James’s Street, Lord John Howard could at last feel at home, for the coach halted outside White’s. ‘We shall use my club to dress,’ he said airily, ‘but first a barber to shave us and then some breakfast — you
Hervey, for all the anxiety that had been mounting since they had entered the capital’s environs, readily agreed. Indeed, he found himself wanting to talk, in part as distraction from what he now feared must come but also to return Howard’s increasing warmth. ‘It is only my second time here: d’Arcey Jessope once brought me,’ he added.
‘Ah, Jessope, poor man. I fear that I fill his empty boots at the Horse Guards. You knew him well?’
‘He was an acquaintance in Spain.’
‘He was a great friend of Lord Fitzroy Somerset. It was he who had Jessope appointed to Lord Wellington’s staff, you know. I’m told that it was the same sharpshooter who accounted for them both at Waterloo. A cruel irony.’
‘Yes, I understand that it was so. I did not see Jessope fall but I saw Lord Fitzroy walking back with his arm shot away.’
‘You were
‘We were many. It is just the way,’ replied Hervey. ‘Have you news of Lord Fitzroy?’
‘He is recovering well. You have heard, I suppose, that he had his arm amputated without a murmur and called for it to be brought back so that he could remove a ring his wife had given him? But then, such bearing is perhaps only to be expected of a colonel of Foot Guards.’
Doubtless Howard was unconscious of his presumption, but Hervey thought none the less to deflate him gently. ‘My dear Howard,’ he smiled confidentially, ‘he was first a cornet of light dragoons!’
And then both laughed.
They entered the Horse Guards through the unimposing door in the inner arch, the same that had admitted Hervey two weeks before, and climbed the stairs to the offices of the commander-in-chief.
‘Good morning, My Lord,’ said the clerk gravely — and bowing — the same clerk on whose account Hervey was now arraigned. Several officers about the place made inaudible asides and stared at him with obvious contempt. His stomach tightened, his eyes began to lose their focus, and the voices around him became strangely disembodied. And yet he remained sensible of his condition and of the proceedings. He had known no feeling like it before — not at Corunna, nor Salamanca, nor even Waterloo. Oblivion had stared at him there, but dishonour faced him now — infamy even.
‘General Calvert wishes to see you the moment you arrive, gentlemen,’ Hervey heard the clerk say as he hurried to the double doors of the adjutant-general’s office.
And before either officer could plead a moment’s pause he was announcing them. Howard beckoned Hervey towards the doors, but he stared back in confusion. Was he meant to surrender his sword and remove his shako?
‘Keep them!’ Howard hissed, all but pulling him into the entrance. They managed nevertheless to halt in step and salute in front of the huge mahogany writing-table.
Sir Harry Calvert was already on his feet, however, and holding out a hand. ‘Mr Hervey, my dear boy, welcome; I am sorry indeed that you have been recalled so early. I do trust it has not been unduly inopportune — the interests of the Service, you know, the interests of the Service.’
Howard motioned Hervey to say nothing, choosing to recount himself the circumstances of their return, which he now did in all its detail, and with unabated particulars of the offending instructions he had acted upon. Calvert was aghast. He walked towards a contrary door and opened it. ‘Colonel Arnold, be so good as to come in here,’ he called, and then, as his military assistant entered with pocket-book open, he turned back to the two lieutenants and frowned. ‘Mr Howard, if you please, repeat for me the information you have this instant apprised me of.’
When Howard had done so the adjutant-general turned to his colonel and asked him if he did not think it the most shameful thing he had heard. Arnold agreed.
‘Then, sir, be pleased to rid me once and for all of that infernal quill-driver. This is one liberty too many.’
And with that the adjutant-general’s staff was peremptorily reduced. Indeed, such was the noisy relish with which Colonel Arnold carried out his instructions that Hervey began to feel sympathy for the unfortunate clerk.
‘Now, gentlemen, sit down, if you please,’ continued General Calvert. ‘There is little time. Mr Hervey, you will recall bringing Lord Wellington’s dispatch two weeks ago. It did not require an acknowledgement but it is the procedure for the clerk receiving dispatches to peruse them at once and to interrogate the bearer if there be any matter for clarification. Mellor did not do so; indeed, it appears that he dealt with it with quite extraordinary laxness. I had begun to suspect as much. He has for some time been quite incapable of remembering his position. I fear his taking a lease on a house in Blackheath has given him certain gentlemanly propensities!’
Hervey smiled respectfully at the general’s attempt at some levity, while suppressing a growing indignation at the inference that his presence at the Horse Guards was merely an instrument for the demise of the offending civilian.
‘Only when the Duke of Wellington himself attended here on Monday was the import of the dispatch revealed, for in it he recounts — in some detail — your remarkable exploits at the late battle we are to know as Waterloo. The duke wished that your signal role be recognized but considered that to mark it by public honours would detract from the honour due to the Prussians. You will understand the sensibilities in these matters, Mr Hervey.’
Hervey bowed in acknowledgement, his pulse beginning to race.
‘He did consider recommending a companionship of the Bath, along with all other commanding officers — since you had commanded your corps in the closing moments of the battle. But so many other junior officers had
