A Regimental Affair

He hadn’t.

‘Well, it is the secret rite by which someone is admitted to the company of General Ludd. I shall say no more. It is not women’s business.’

Seton Canning could not imagine Henrietta conceding that any business could fall under such a ban, but he thought prudently to let it go. They chatted for not many minutes more before Hervey returned from his solitary ride. He managed a sort of smile, which alerted Henrietta to some distress while not suggesting the same to his lieutenant. He bent to kiss her, said how pleased he was to see the journey had not fatigued her, and then asked Seton Canning if he would leave them alone for a time.

When Seton Canning was gone, Hervey asked how things had been with Johnson. She told him briefly of the particulars, saying that she would explain more about Mrs Stallybrass when he had told her what was troubling him.

Hervey pulled a chair up close to Henrietta and gave her the news of Trumpeter Medwell’s death.

Tears came to her eyes at once, for Medwell had been a regular visitor at their quarters. ‘What a terrible thing to be shot down by a fellow countryman,’ she said, dabbing at her eyes with a silk square.

‘Everyone’s been saying the same. It seems so much worse than falling to a French ball.’

‘Just like the poor Duke of Huntingdon’s son in London.’

‘Exactly so.’

Hervey took her hand, and sighed. ‘And there is ill news from Wiltshire. My father is to be arraigned before a diocesan court. Elizabeth believes he will lose the living.’

‘I think I had better go back to Longleat,’ she said, sorrowfully.

He took up her hand again. ‘My darling, I would very much prefer if you didn’t.’

Never had she heard him sound quite so dejected. She smiled encouragingly and kissed his forehead. ‘No, I shan’t go. We stay together now, be what may.’

CHAPTER SIXTEEN. REVOLUTION STALKS OUR COUNTY!

Leading article, the Nottingham Mercury, 3 October 1817

The insurrectional state to which this county has been reduced for the last month has no parallel in history, since the troubled days of Charles I. Even the depredations of Luddism in these parts only five years ago did not carry the attendant threats upon the Sovereign, his Regent or Government which have been uttered these last weeks in the name of Justice.

The rioters appear suddenly in armed parties, under regular commanders. The chief commander, whoever he may be, is styled General Ludd. They march to their objective with military discipline, ten abreast, and as soon as the work of destruction is completed, the Leader draws up his men, calls the roll, each man answering to a particular number instead of a name; they then fire off their pistols, give a great shout and march off in regular military order.

In spite of curfews and a posse comitatus, the Authorities seem powerless to halt the wave of machine breaking which nightly threatens the prosperity of these parts, and so thorough is that destruction, so indiscriminate in its abuse of employers who are spoken of by their workers as bad and good alike, that We are of the opinion that the spectre of Jacobinism which stalked the Continent these past twenty years is come to our shores, and that only by the most vigorous action shall it be extinguished!

A week passed in which, despite the worst fears of the Mercury, the borough of Mansfield — and, indeed, most of the county — remained peaceable, and Hervey and Henrietta were able to enjoy an interlude of domesticity at the grange.

One afternoon, an orderly dragoon brought a letter from regimental headquarters in Nottingham. Hervey read it, twice, and then put it down. ‘I can scarcely believe it. The man must be an imbecile!’

‘Lord Towcester, I suppose?’ sighed Henrietta, laying aside her novel. ‘Tell me of it.’

‘He says that the uniforms of my troop are now in the worst condition of any in the regiment and that I must put in hand their replacement at once.’

‘And are they?’

He looked at her in some surprise. ‘How can I know? For I have seen none but my own troop for three weeks! Barrow’s was here for only a couple of days before Lord Towcester sent them back.’

She simply raised her eyebrows.

‘In any case, we’ve scarcely been chafing them for our own amusement!’

‘How shall you have them replaced?’

‘The men must pay for them themselves, or else I must. We’ll make claims on the borough, and the insurance companies for the fires we’ve put out, but I’ll warrant the money’ll be slow in the paying.’

She picked up her book again, and grinned. ‘Perhaps the clothiers of Mansfield can knit you all new tunics.’

‘Henrietta!’

‘But it is, I grant you, a strange preoccupation in the middle of all this skirmishing.’

‘Nothing I do seems to please Lord Towcester. Sir Abraham sent him a letter of appreciation and you’d think it had been a protest by the Prince Regent. It’s only when General Evans rides him that his stupidity’s at all curbed.’

‘And where is the general gone to, that Lord Towcester is let out of his asylum?’

‘London. To see Lord Sidmouth at the Home Office.’

She merely raised an eyebrow.

All this was really most dispiriting. Hervey was tired of talking about his commanding officer. ‘What do you read there?’

‘Miss Austen’s last novel. It is called Emma.’

‘Oh. A pretty name.’

‘Yes,’ she said, turning a page.

‘I wonder if Emma Lucie is married to Mr Somervile yet?’

‘I hope so. They sound very suited from what you spoke of him. But I have had no word from her in response to mine.’

‘Another two months at least, even by the Egyptian route.’

She raised another eyebrow.

He poured more tea. ‘Why did you say her last novel? Has Miss Austen declared she will write no more?’

‘Oh, Matthew! She died but two months ago. Did you not read of it?’

‘Evidently not. I am sorry of it. Was she very old?’

‘She was not three and forty! And, I confess, her passing made me most alert to my own mortality, for I had spoken with her in Bath only the month before you returned.’

‘My darling!’

She shook her head. ‘Did you ever read the book of hers I gave you?’

He had to own that he had not. ‘I confess it never engaged me.’

‘Matthew, do you ever read novels?’

‘Yes.’

‘Which last did you read?’