foolish, and then appeared as such by asking for whiskey and seltzer in Urdu. It was only after several exchanges that he realized Urdu was as strange a tongue as French would have been — except that later he remembered the French held sway in the Carnatic for many years. When the khitmagar returned he simply took the glass and bowed in the universal sign of gratitude, at which the little Tamil looked even more bemused.
Hervey took refuge in the paper Lucie had given him. It was, as he promised, diverting; a list to make any commissary envious.
Licquors Dozens
Claret 60
Madeira 60
Arrack, half a leaguer Brandy 18
Hock 12
Porter 24
Bullocks 12
Hams 15
Sheep 60
Tongues Casks 5
Fowls and capons 30 Doz
Cheeses 6
Ducks 12 Doz
Fine rice Bags 12
Turkies 2 Doz
Fine bisquit Bags 30
Geese 3 Doz
Flour Casks 3
Hogs and pigs 30
Tea chest 1
Sows and young 2
Sugar-candy Tubs 10
Milch goats 6
Butter Firkins 5
Candles Mds 8
salt-fish, curry-stuff, pease, spices, lime juice, onions, &c, &c, cabin furniture, table linen and towels, glassware, China &c, &c. Standing and swinging cots with bedding and curtains complete. A couch. Also a great number of small articles of provision, care having been taken that nothing material should be omitted.
(Signed) W. M. SYDENHAM,
FORT ST. GEORGE
3rd February 1816.
‘You are, I imagine, in some degree impressed by the care with which we treat a general officer?’ said Lucie as he returned.
‘I am all astonishment,’ replied Hervey truthfully.
‘Then let that invoice speak by itself of the wealth and address of the Honourable East India Company, sir. Nothing is left wanting for its servants. Were you a lieutenant-colonel on the duke’s staff you would not receive as much as a captain on the Madras establishment! You will find it tempting to stay when your essay for His Grace is finished.’
How he wished he could tell him that he himself expected to be installed at Fort William before too long. Instead he contented himself with the first thing he could think of: ‘Are you very much concerned with bills of lading and the like?’
‘We are a trading company, Hervey.’
‘Oh, indeed, I—’
‘However, my principal occupation as fourth in council is the affairs of the country powers,’ he added with an indulgent smile. ‘
The khansamah entered and announced Lucie’s other guest, an apparently youngish man but with a decided look of the dissolute. Lucie reversed the strict formulary by introducing
Hervey bowed. A most imposing appellation, he thought, and for one whom Lucie now intimated was but a little younger than Lucie himself. The collector of land revenues bore the customary marks of the Company’s service — at least, as imagined by those whose knowledge was limited to salacious gossip. His face seemed puffed up, though the remnants of fine features indicated that once it might have been described as distinguished. His thinning hair was bleached by the fierce sun, of which he evidently had little regard (for his puffy skin was the colour of some of the native men Hervey had seen on the beach), and though his raw silk shirt was generously proportioned, it did not conceal the swelling that was his stomach. But he had kind eyes.
Then came the fourth for dinner. ‘My dear,’ said Lucie, positively beaming, ‘you know Mr Somervile. May I present Captain Matthew Hervey of the 6th Light Dragoons.’ A tall, slender woman, close to Hervey’s age, serene in a shot-silk dress cut in the late Empire fashion, made a low curtsy in response to their bows. Her skin had not the pallor of the other European ladies he had seen on his way to the fort, for she — like Somervile — evidently took no especial shelter from the sun. But how well did it complement her raven hair! ‘Captain Hervey, my sister, Emma.’
It was not difficult for Hervey to be captivated. Emma Lucie had the same engaging smile as her brother, an unthreatening self-possession, and — revealed quickly but charmingly — a keen mind. They chatted freely for some minutes (though with no mention of Henrietta, for Hervey was nervous of hearing anything that would trouble him any greater at this time), and then she turned and greeted the collector more intimately. Somervile dabbed at his neck with a small piece of towel as he took a glass of claret from the khitmagar, drank it at once and then took another. Emma Lucie addressed him in French so eloquent that Hervey might have thought himself a beginner.
‘He is a most exceptional fellow, I assure you,’ said Lucie quietly, taking Hervey to one side; ‘he is the cleverest man I have ever met. Not only does he seem to speak every language in southern India, he knows everything of their etymologies. And he has such a remarkable facility with the native people too: he knows everything of their religions and customs, and they hold him in the very greatest esteem and affection. He will be able to tell you everything there is to know about the country.’
‘I should like that very much,’ he replied, glancing across at Somervile. ‘Your sister — she has been here some time?’
‘Almost five years! She refused flatly to be presented, saying she would have no more of London. That is where she knew your affianced.’
Hervey concluded that, with so distant a connection, the acquaintance might not have been as intimate as he supposed.
‘She and Somervile would appear to be conducting the longest courtship the presidency has ever seen,’ added
