A Regimental Affair

The answer came almost at once. ‘It was called Waverley.’

‘Was it of soldiery?’

He frowned. ‘There were some very romantic episodes.’

‘It was about soldiery! And how recently was it that you read?’

‘On board ship.’

Now she frowned. ‘The return or the outward passage?’

He sighed. ‘I prefer poetry.’

She laughed. ‘I know you do. Then I shall read to you tonight, when we are in bed. John Keats.’

He looked blank.

‘Don’t you remember? Mr Keble spoke of him when we were at the henge those three years ago, but I don’t think he’d been much heard of then. I have his first volume, published only this spring.’

He smiled in pleasant anticipation. ‘You know, I do very much like it here.’

She laughed again. ‘Of course you do, Matthew Hervey! You are surrounded by your dragoons, the lieutenant colonel is twenty miles away, and you have me with you!’

‘In that order?’

‘I think, probably, yes!’

They kissed, and would have moved closer, but a knock at the door reclaimed them. Private Johnson announced the Bow Street men.

‘Come in, gentlemen, come in,’ said Hervey, holding out his hand with a display of real pleasure. ‘You have been elusive this past week or so.’

‘Indeed we have, sir; indeed we have. Good afternoon, your ladyship.’

Henrietta smiled as warmly, and asked Johnson to bring more cups.

‘Sit down, gentlemen, please,’ said Hervey, helping them to chairs. ‘What brings you?’

‘I think we may be very close to a deciding bout,’ said the senior of the two. It seemed an apt metaphor, for he had always looked to Hervey like a man at home in the ring.

‘Indeed, Mr Wilks? Then I am all attention.’

The other investigator, the former insurance man, took out his pocketbook and sat poised to make notes. There was no look of the pugilist to Mr Bartle. Rather had he the appearance of an apothecary.

Wilks drained his teacup, drew forward in his chair and began to speak in a more confidential tone. ‘I do believe we know the identities of the leaders of the so-called Shirewood Brigade. It’s they that have been organizing the violence in the north of the county.’

Hervey nodded. ‘You know who is this “Enoch”?’

Wilks smiled. ‘That much was easy, sir. Enoch is a hammer.’

Hervey did not comprehend.

‘The hammers they use for machine-breaking. They’re called “Enochs” after the ironworks that makes them.’

Hervey felt a little foolish. ‘Do continue please, Mr Wilks.’

‘We had a meeting with General Evans last night in the castle when he got back from London.’ At this point Wilks looked rather uncomfortable. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but though I know we are in the borough’s pay, and you asked us here, we had a duty to the GOC.’

‘Of course, of course,’ said Hervey, who had never for once supposed that Bow Street men worked to as rigid a system of command as his.

‘Well, then, the Home Office, it seems, is of the opinion that although there is plotting against the government all over the place, it is haphazard. There’s no method in it. All their spies and informers suggest the same, that these Luddites are only associated with the conspirators by opportunity — by suggestion, even, for the most part. And the likes of Hunt and the Spa Fielders have no more connection with the trouble here than Bonaparte.’

Hervey was glad to hear it, but didn’t immediately see the implication.

‘If we can give one knockout blow to one of these “brigades” ’ — Wilks’s dislike of using an otherwise honourable term was quite evident — ‘then there’s a very good chance the others will be cowed into surrender — or, rather, inactivity. They’ll fear we’ve penetrated their secrecy entirely, and the threat of the gallows should do the rest.’

‘And we are now in a position to do this, to deliver this knockout blow?’

Wilks smiled, and a suggestion of the same came to the lips of his assistant. ‘We are, sir!’

‘Would you like more tea before you tell us how, Mr Wilks?’ asked Henrietta.

‘Indeed I should, ma’am!’

‘And you, Mr Bartle?’

‘Very much, your ladyship.’

She filled their cups and asked if they would prefer that she left.

Before Hervey could say anything, Wilks protested that indeed he would not. ‘For it was your information with regard to Mrs Stallybrass that began the trail to this evening, your ladyship.’

Henrietta seemed very gratified by this.

‘Well, sir, it seems that your ambuscading scheme has them running very scared. They can’t assemble in the numbers they need, especially since the posse is now so effective.’

It was now Hervey’s turn to feel gratified.

‘And your dragoons are so quick about the place that our night owls fear being counter-attacked if they do manage to concentrate. It’s the same at Worksop.’

Hervey was pleased to hear that Barrow was having equal success, though hardly surprised.

‘They’ve called a meeting tonight at the Crow’s Nest in Cuckney.’

Hervey knew the place. ‘About the remotest spot they could have chosen.’

Wilks agreed. ‘If they can get there, there’ll be every twisted-in commander in the north of the county — and one or two from as far afield as Derby and Yorkshire.’

‘How many?’

‘Upwards of twenty. And they’ll have their guards with them.’

Hervey blew out his breath. ‘Twenty! That would be a devil of a fight with twice the number of dragoons.’

Henrietta began to look anxious.

‘With three times the number!’ Wilks interjected. ‘These’ll be desperate men when they’re cornered. All of them’ll face the gallows.’

‘I shall have to send for help from Ollerton or Worksop.’

‘I’d rather you didn’t, sir,’ said Wilks. ‘It would be better that there was no extra movement of troops. They’ll be jittery, these men, and I wouldn’t want them frightened off. They’ll know your dragoons by sight by now, and they’d recognize reinforcements from a different troop.’

‘Then I shan’t be able to lay my ambushes tonight.’

‘No, sir. I wouldn’t want you to, for that might discourage a few as well. No, we want the birds to flock to the Crow’s Nest, like regular black crows of an evening.’

‘Rookeries, again, Mr Wilks?’ smiled Hervey.

‘Rookeries indeed, sir. How many birds does it take to make a rook pie, d’ye think?’

Henrietta rose, a little pale, and excused herself. Hervey made to follow, but she bade him stay. ‘Just a little air, that is all. I was never partial to the dish.’

‘Very well, gentlemen,’ said Hervey, sitting down again. ‘But I’m afraid I shall have to have a written request from a magistrate — either that or an order from my commanding officer.’

Wilks looked uncomfortable for the second time. ‘How can I put this, sir?’ He cleared his throat. ‘The GOC said, most emphatically, that we were to treat direct with you, and on no account to speak of it… in Nottingham itself. The general will be here himself by five, he said.’

Hervey made no comment. ‘So we shall ask Sir Abraham Cole?’

‘That would be best, sir,’ agreed Wilks. ‘Also, the general’s DAAG will come to apprise you of the position as regards the new Act.’

Hervey went to a writing table, dashed off a few lines to Sir Abraham, and called Private Johnson to have