bid Hervey to do the same. ‘Tell me of those Bow Street men, Hervey. When did they come?’
Hervey explained the background a little warily still, for the general’s tone could have implied disapproval as well as curiosity.
He need not have worried on this account either, however. Sir Francis thought it the very model of assistance to the civil powers. ‘I truly believe that it’s the fear of being taken in their own homes, with evidence for conviction, which will stop this criminality — for that’s what it is, no more, no less. It’s the same with the insurrectionists. It’s not the plotters and ringleaders that get chopped down by the yeomanry. We can hang and transport all we like, but rooting out them that’s scheming should be the priority. I met with the sheriff again yesterday, and he is ruing the dearth of intelligence from his own sources. I congratulate you, therefore, Hervey!’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Hervey. How easy it was to serve a man like this, a man to place one’s trust in. ‘But I have to say I take no delight in last evening. I was humbugged, and I should have seen it before I did.’
Sir Francis looked at him sceptically. ‘Captain Hervey, a word of advice. Do not be too ready to volunteer your failings to authority. You may find it is too convenient, sometimes, for superiors to accept them in lieu of their own.’
Hervey nodded. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I confess to feeling the loss of my trumpeter rather more than I should if this were France.’
‘Indeed, indeed. It is bound to go heavy with you. And you are aware, of course, that you will have to answer to the courts for the man you killed?’
‘I know it, Sir Francis. Sir Abraham Cole said that I should engage an attorney at once, though he supposed it would amount to no great affair.’
‘I should damn well hope not!’ Sir Francis drained his coffee cup, and then a thought seemed to occur to him. ‘Where is Lord Towcester? I haven’t seen him in days.’
Hervey explained that the lieutenant colonel had visited only recently, having been paying his respects to the greater landowners of the district.
‘That’s only right,’ said Sir Francis, nodding. ‘Then you shall have to send for more dragoons yourself,’ he added, emphatically. ‘It’s quiet in Worksop by all accounts. They should be able to spare you a half-troop. Well, Hervey, I consider myself very well instructed by all that I’ve heard. Now, explain to me once more what precisely is this scheme of ambush of yours. You can cover all the roads north of the town, you say — and at one and the same time?’
A letter arrived from Horningsham in the afternoon. Hervey opened it with some trepidation, for it was in Elizabeth’s hand, and that could mean only one thing — ill news of the archdeaconry feud, for his father would surely have written if the affair had been resolved happily.
Henrietta’s carriage returned to the grange a little before five. ‘Where is my husband, Mr Seton Canning?’
‘I believe he has gone to take exercise, ma’am,’ said the lieutenant with an amused expression. ‘Though why he should need it after last night’s exertions is a little beyond me, I’m afraid.’
‘You must tell me of them later,’ sighed Henrietta rather dismissively, but taking his hand to step from the chaise.
Private Johnson had already jumped down from the box where, despite Henrietta’s request otherwise, he had insisted on travelling since Chatsworth, and Seton Canning now craned his neck to see the third passenger, of whom he had heard so much.
‘No, Mr Canning, there is no Mrs Johnson, or Mrs Stallybrass, rather.’
The lieutenant looked puzzled.
Johnson saluted. ‘Excuse me, ma’am; Mr Canning, sir. I’ll report to Serjeant Armstrong if there’s nothing more.’
Seton Canning looked at Henrietta, who smiled and shook her head. ‘Very well, Johnson,’ he said, returning the salute with a touch to his cap. ‘Dismiss.’
Johnson said, ‘Thank you, ma’am,’ to Henrietta (twice) and scurried off to the horse lines.
‘What a transformation!’ said Seton Canning, taking Henrietta’s travelling case. ‘I had no idea Sheffield could be so restorative of the spirits.’
Henrietta smiled again. ‘He is very happy.’
‘He’s reconciled to his mother, then?’
‘No. He still does not have a mother. It was Ezra rather than Ezekiel.’
‘Ma’am?’
She set off up the steps of the grange house. ‘The testificate was a page from the Book of Ezra. Johnson’s was from Ezekiel.’
He looked no wiser yet.
‘It seems the practice at the Sheffield foundling hospital — or the workhouse, as Johnson will insist on having it — is to tear a page in half from a special bible they have, and in the part remaining they record the details of the foundling, and give the other half to the mother or whoever brings in the child.’
‘As a
‘You have lived too long with gentlefolk by the sound of it, Mr Canning.’ It gave Henrietta surprising satisfaction to say so.
‘Ma’am, that is most unfair. I—’
‘Oh come, Mr Canning: you don’t suppose that
‘No, of course. Would you like some tea?’
‘Yes, very much.’
He called for fresh water. ‘But the name — “Johnson”. That was an extraordinary coincidence, was it not?’
‘No,’ she said, taking off her gloves. ‘All the foundlings that month were named “Johnson”. That is the custom; like naming hounds with the same letter in a year.’
‘Great heavens!’
Henrietta was warming to her new-found social sensibility. ‘If he had been left at Lincoln’s Inn, he would have been named Lincoln no matter what the month. Just like your serjeant-major.’
Canning had again learned something new. ‘Where is Mrs… Stallybrass now?’
‘She is with the Bow Street men. I believe the phrase is “assisting them with their enquiries”. Have you heard of “twisting in”?’
