Nizams Daughters

If Matthew Hervey had had a moment’s disappointment when, earlier, the duke had seemed dismissive, his self-esteem was now wholly restored, and with interest, for here was a mission of substance, a pivot on which the duke’s entire policy in India might turn — and entrusted to him, a captain of but a few days. Heavens but there were rewards for Waterloo! He felt his cheeks aglow. He could hear his heart beating. He had a sense of floating, even. He began imagining how, with Henrietta, he might tour the kingdom of the nizam. They would see sights of which they would never dream — perhaps riding with the nizam’s cavalry, and hunting all manner of beasts.

Grant called him back to the present. ‘There must be great circumspection in this mission, Captain Hervey,’ he added; ‘it would not do for the nizam to believe that the duke had sent a spy. You will thereby travel to Haidarabad on a pretext.’

Hervey nodded. It need not dull any of the thrill. ‘Is that pretext decided, sir?’

‘Yes,’ said Grant firmly. ‘The nizam’s cavalry are renowned for their skill with the lance. The duke has already set in train certain measures to form lancer regiments in our own army, consequent on witnessing the great effectiveness of the French lancers at Waterloo.’

Hervey winced at his own memory of that weapon’s effectiveness. He was pleased to hear that it was at last to be put in the army’s hands.

‘And you will therefore be engaged in an ostensible study of the employment of that weapon,’ continued Grant. ‘Here is a letter of introduction to the nizam, conveying the duke’s respect, and so forth, and here is another to the authorities in Calcutta requesting them to make all arrangements for you to travel to Haidarabad. When you arrive in Calcutta you will make contact with a Mr Josephus Bazzard, a writer at Fort William — headquarters of the Honourable East India Company on that continent, as you may know. He is our agent there and he alone knows of this mission. He will render you any additional assistance necessary.’

An uncomfortable thought now occurred to him. There was a certain immediacy in the tone of Colonel Grant’s instructions. ‘When would the duke wish me to leave for India, sir?’ he asked, but with as little concern as he could manage.

‘Not quite at once, Captain Hervey, but within the next day or so. The frigate which conveyed you here will at this moment be dropping anchor at Le Havre with instructions to await your rejoining her.’

Much of the colour drained from his face.

‘Does that present you with difficulties?’ enquired Grant sceptically.

‘I am to be married, sir.’

‘I see. Do I take it that you therefore wish to decline this assignment?’

If only he might have a fortnight — ten days, even. Something might be arranged…

‘I am afraid that is not possible, Captain Hervey. This enterprise is already some weeks past due. There was some misunderstanding at the Horse Guards about your appointment to the duke’s staff, was there not?’

Hervey would have wished not to be reminded of that unhappy business, and Grant was insinuating that his predicament was of his own making. What could he say?

‘Very well then, you will leave tomorrow on the frigate Nisus,’ said Grant briskly but airily: it saved him the distaste of issuing a direct order. ‘Now, there is one more thing, Captain Hervey.’

He was beginning to think there was always one more thing in staff affairs. How straightforward was regimental life by comparison. ‘Sir?’

Colonel Grant cleared his throat and glanced down at his papers again. ‘You are acquainted with a Mr Selden, I believe — lately veterinary surgeon to the 6th Light Dragoons?’

No other name could have come as quite such a surprise. ‘Ye-es,’ he replied cautiously.

‘Selden had to take his leave from Ireland owing to… ill health,’ said Grant, looking up at Hervey for confirmation of this apparently official rendering of events.

Hervey would not confirm or gainsay it. Rather, he returned Grant’s gaze in anticipation of what was to follow.

‘And he has gone back to India, where he spent the early part of his service, as I understand it?’

‘I did not know he had gone back, sir,’ replied Hervey, now wholly intrigued.

‘Mm,’ nodded Grant; ‘our agents report that he has an appointment at the court of the Rajah of Chintal.’

There seemed no end to Colonel Grant’s information. Hervey, again, made no reply.

‘Chintal is a very minor princely state to the east and contiguous with Haidarabad. It would be an entirely regular thing for you to make contact with Mr Selden during your travels, would it not? Chintalpore, where is the rajah’s palace, is close to the Godavari river, downstream of the nizam’s territories.’

‘Make contact for the purposes of acquiring his assessment of affairs?’ asked Hervey.

‘That might be helpful,’ nodded Grant; ‘but there is another matter — a matter of some delicacy.’ He looked down again and rearranged the papers. ‘At the conclusion of the Maratha war the duke was given title to certain jagirs — estates, if you will — which lie within Chintal. It is now prudent that these jagirs be… alienated.’

Hervey did not at first know what to make of this.

‘And I am to be an instrument in alienating them?’

‘Just so, Captain Hervey. But it is a trifle more complicated than that. You see, it were better if the duke had never had title to these jagirs in the first instance. It were better if all trace, in terms of deeds and the like, were… no more.’

Hervey understood right enough, but not why. Colonel Grant lowered his eyes and his voice. ‘Captain Hervey, it is one of the precepts of intelligence work that if it be not necessary to know, then a person should not be made privy.’

Hervey looked suitably chastened.

‘Well then — let us address ourselves to the particulars of your mission.’

‘Hell and confound it!’ cursed Hervey, startling even Private Johnson. ‘How long has she been like this?’

‘A week, sir. She came down wi’ it last Saturday after drill.’

Jessye was, it seemed, feverish. She had been coughing a good deal and was off her feed. ‘You didn’t get her into a muck sweat and then just put her away?’

‘No ah didn’t, Mr ’Ervey!’ Johnson was deeply offended, his broad Sheffield vowels stretching to twice their usual length.

‘Oh, I… I beg your pardon, Johnson. I said the first thing that came into my head.’

There was no-one else about in the infirmary stables, just a couple of box-rest cases. Jessye need not have been there, strictly, but Johnson had been pleased to remove himself from the supervision of the riding master and to give her a bigger stall and more straw. These were fine stables, thought Hervey — the best he had ever seen. ‘The King of France’s horses are better housed than I.’

‘Eh, sir?’

‘I was just thinking on something the Elector of Hanover is supposed to have said,’ he replied absently. ‘It was a good move of Lord George’s to get this billet. I’d rather her sweat out the fever here than in the first place we had.’

‘It’s nowt but a chill, anyroad,’ said Johnson confidently. ‘Not as bad as that one she got in Ireland last Christmas, either.’

‘No,’ sighed Hervey, ‘I can see that now, but I had a mind to ride her to Le Havre.’

‘Where’s that? Ah wouldn’t take ’er nought but a mile or so.’

‘On the coast.’

The coast. Johnson looked at him searchingly. ‘Is tha gooin’ t’tell me abaht it then Mr ’Ervey?’

He had wished for a better moment, but… ‘How would you like to go to India, Johnson?’ he tried bluntly.

‘Wi’ thee, Mr ’Ervey?’

Hervey smiled with some satisfaction. ‘You mean that going half-way round the world would be conditional only upon the officer you groomed for?’

‘Mr ’Ervey, outside Sheffield it’s all t’same t’me!’

‘Then I take it you will come with me?’

‘I’m thy groom!’

Hervey smiled again, with much relief: there would be one familiar face at least, but above all a man he could