your very sorry news.’
Hervey ignored the sentiments. ‘Your lordship, there is one thing which puzzles me. Why was my wife leaving the fort, and by that road?’
‘Captain Hervey, I hardly think this is the time or—’
‘I am sorry, your lordship, but I very much consider that it is. My wife had come here to see me — there is no ordinance against that — and the road she was on had been closed by order of the Americans and myself.’ Hervey’s manner was cold, insistent, but respectful still.
Lord Towcester’s eyes showed no more warmth than they had ever done. His mouth had closed to a slit, and his words began to come with a hiss. ‘Was I expected to know that, sir?’
‘But why did you send her away?’ Hervey’s anger was now only barely concealed.
‘Did I say that I had, sir?’
‘Do you deny it?’ Still Hervey kept his anger just in check, though Lord Towcester could not know how hard he struggled.
‘Captain Hervey, your tone is becoming impertinent!’
Hervey’s tone was still as cold as the air outside, and seemingly as calm. ‘Why did you send my wife away, sir?’
Lord Towcester huffed. ‘Because, sir, she had taken to meddling!’
‘I
‘It seems that she had written to the Duke of Huntingdon, raking over dead coals.’
‘I consider your sending her away improper. And I need hardly add that if you had not done so she would be alive at this minute.’
‘
‘Even if you did not know the road was closed, I consider that it was a reckless thing to have done, and I shall make my complaint to General Rolt.’
‘You impertinent devil!’ roared Towcester. ‘Mr Dauntsey, you will take this officer’s sword!’
The adjutant stood open-mouthed. ‘My lord! Captain Hervey has just suffered the most wretched bereavement!’
‘That is no excuse for insubordination! Take his sword, sir!’
‘There will be no need of that,’ rasped Hervey. ‘I shall send in my papers this very day. But I shall also lay before the major general my complaints, including your late conduct at Niagara, and certain other matters of which I have been made aware.’
‘How
‘You will discover, your lordship. But I believe I may say that it were better that your lordship placed a pistol to his head!’ He saluted slowly and turned on his heel.
Lord Towcester struck the table in so great a rage that the veneer splintered. ‘Stay where you are, sir! I have not finished with you! Mr Dauntsey, arrest that officer!’
But the adjutant made no move.
* * *
Back in his quarters, Hervey took the letter from his pocket. He had had it now for longer than he had known the worst, and his sister’s neat round hand was a comfort, even if, as he supposed, it bore ill news. But what ill news could possibly compound his grief? Elizabeth’s earnest face was before him now, and without doubt there was solace in it.
Hervey folded the letter carefully and put it back into his pocket. He would write to Elizabeth, and at the same time to Lord and Lady Bath, to say that he had lost his wife — that
But for one letter he was certain he could find both words and courage in ample measure. He went to the desk, took out pens and paper, sat upright in the chair and looked out of the window. Despite the bitter cold, his dragoons were going about their business as best they could, for in the army, life must always go on, and with as little interruption as might be.
Hervey dipped his pen in the inkwell, and began to write his report to the major general.
The End
HISTORICAL AFTERNOTE
Something was bound to give in the business of the cavalry and aid to the civil power. On 16 August 1819, at St Peter’s Fields in Manchester, one of the shadowy villains of my tale held another meeting, the numbers approaching sixty thousand. The magistrates ordered the local yeomanry to arrest ‘Orator’ Hunt, but the parttime cavalrymen botched it. An antecedent troop of my own regiment was sent to rescue them and restore order, which they did apparently with restraint. But the damage was done, and ‘Peterloo’, as the press dubbed it, became a