being the first child to be born in York that year… or perhaps she said the first girl, or…
‘Here, Captain Hervey. I shall leave you.’ She opened one door — to a dressing room — and motioned to another.
He tidied his stock in a looking glass, checked that all his tunic buttons were fastened, then knocked softly on the door to the bedchamber.
‘Come,’ came a male voice.
He opened the door gently.
‘Matthew!’
There was pleasure and pride and relief all together in that single word. But how spent Henrietta sounded, too. Her hair lay on the pillow as it had that night at the Nottingham inn, and he knew again that he had laid privations in her way. She should by rights have been at Longleat, in the great rose bedchamber that had been hers since childhood.
‘See, Matthew.’ She turned her eyes to the Maitlands’ nurse.
He took her hand, and bent and kissed her forehead, but she made a little sound of protest, and he kissed her again, on the lips. The doctor nodded, and the nurse presented their swaddled issue. Hervey stared with pride and wonder in equal measure. He saw what Sarah Maitland had told him, for there were the largest, bluest of eyes, and the most luxuriant shock of dark hair.
Henrietta squeezed his hand. ‘I’m sorry, my love, for you wanted a son truly very much.’
Her voice was so tired that just saying the words could not have been without effort. He was wholly at a loss to respond to anything so entirely selfless.
‘We must decide on a name,’ she said, raising her head slightly to see better.
‘My darling, I never so much as once uttered any thought that I wished for a son. She is quite perfect. I would not have things any other way.’
‘Then sit with me a while, and let us speak of it, for I can’t bear to think of her without a name.’
Stables was done by the time he returned to the troop lines. Indeed, the orderly trumpeter was sounding first post for watchsetting. Hervey complimented him as he passed the guardroom. ‘A pretty sound for so cold a night, Martin!’
Private Martin saluted. ‘Thank you, sir. But a whole tone flat, I’m sorry to say.’ Martin took his music seriously. He did not quite have perfect pitch, but he had a good memory. ‘I’d warmed it by the stove for a quarter of an hour until its pitch were right, sir. Two minutes later and it’s dropped a whole tone. I thought it’d freeze to my lips.’
Even to Hervey, his mind so agreeably preoccupied as it was, the cold was uncommonly severe. ‘Has the guard commander shortened the duties, do you know?’
‘He has, sir. To half.’
‘That’s as well. Very good, Martin. I should begin warming your trumpet for
‘Ay, sir! Good night, then, sir.’ Something, clearly, had put the captain in good spirits. He saluted again as Hervey turned for the troop office.
A sound man, Martin, said Hervey to himself. Meet to replace ‘Susan’ Medwell. It seemed strange to think like that, perhaps, but there could be no other way. Once a man was struck off strength — no matter what the circumstances — it was a case of ‘soldier on’ for those who remained. No one was irreplaceable. All else was mere sentiment. That, at least, was what Hervey had always tried to tell himself. Now, especially, must he do so since he bore the additional rank of father. He must soldier on, no matter how difficult his commanding officer made it. The Sixth were strong enough to ride out a man like Towcester, were they not? His real nature would soon become apparent to those in authority, and he would be checked, surely, for wasn’t that the way with the army?
He was surprised to see Major Lawrence in the troop office. ‘A word, Hervey, if you please.’
The troop orderly serjeant made to leave.
‘Is Mr Seton Canning in the lines, Corporal Sykes?’ asked Hervey, winding his hunter. It still seemed a mean instrument compared with the one it had replaced, but every time he wound it now he felt the want of his old friend’s gay society most keenly. In d’Arcey Jessope he could have confided happily, even if that delightful Coldstreamer’s counsel had not always been practical.
‘He’s in his quarters, sir. Shall I fetch him?’
‘No. Have him informed that I shall do picket officer’s rounds myself, please.’
‘Very good, sir.’
Lawrence scarcely waited for the door to close. ‘What in the name of heaven happened at Niagara? There’s all manner of rumour abroad on the reservations.’
Hervey poured himself coffee, took off his cape and shako and sat down. ‘One of the patrol’s pistols discharged accidentally when a hunting party came out of the woods.’
Lawrence frowned. ‘No, Hervey — that will never do! I never expected such a thing from you of all men.’
Hervey sighed. How easy it would be to tell him all, to pretend Major Lawrence were d’Arcey Jessope. And what hard-edged counsel he would have by return. Yes, it would be very easy. But Lawrence wasn’t Jessope. There was no basis for mutual trust — yet — other than instinct. They had not campaigned together, they did not wear the same uniform. Hervey had no right to discuss his commanding officer with Lawrence, no matter what the inducement. ‘I cannot think what you mean. That is the substantive report,’ he said defiantly, though sadly.
‘Well, to begin with, I never imagined I would hear you use the word “accidental”.’
‘Well, it was certainly not deliberate.’
‘Do not sport with me, sir! You know very well that the term is
‘That would be the term if we were talking of the Mutiny Act, yes. But it doesn’t render my report inaccurate.’
Major Lawrence’s powers of observation were not to be underestimated. ‘Hervey, who are you shielding?’
That might well have been impertinent, but Hervey knew it was apt. He supposed the Cayugas had already told him. But much as he was tempted to confide, the circumstances made it impossible, for nothing he told the superintendent could be in confidence. ‘What does that matter, Lawrence? What is the greater problem?’
‘The tribes are saying the white soldiers rode through their hunting land without thought for disturbing the little game there was, and even fired to frighten them away.’
‘We were on a road that appeared on a map.’
It was the superintendent’s turn to sigh. ‘The Cayugas say you are a brave man.’
‘Do they indeed? How would they know one way or the other?’ Hervey managed an expression of innocence as much as puzzlement.
Lawrence narrowed his eyes. ‘They told me what they saw.’
‘You must have a care that they saw enough.’
‘Oh I shall, Hervey; I shall. For it is my duty to apprise the lieutenant-governor of all matters touching on the affairs of the Indian nations. And when he returns I shall give him account.’
Hervey had not known Sir Peregrine was away. ‘Where is he gone?’
‘To Quebec. And he shall be gone another fortnight, too. But on his return I must give him my assessment.’
‘Of course you must. And any report on our encounter with the Indians must properly come from Lord Towcester, not from me.’
‘So I should hope. Do you know when I might have it?’
Hervey was puzzled by the persistence. ‘Tomorrow, I should imagine. The day after, at the latest.’
‘Indeed, Captain Hervey?’ smiled Lawrence. ‘How so?’
Hervey looked at him blankly.
‘Lord Towcester set out for Quebec by sleigh this afternoon. Did you not know?’
After first parade next day — a pale affair with all those of the patrol stood down — Seton Canning went to the troop office. ‘It was good of you to stand my picket for me last night, Hervey.’
His captain smiled. ‘I had rather forgotten myself earlier. I didn’t know it was so late.’
