precedents. It is not something to which an objection would be raised: of that I can assure you, Mr Hervey.’
‘I am gratified, Mr Cox. And when do you say I shall be gazetted?’
‘The
‘It would be amusing to spend Friday with the Eighty-second,’ said Hervey, smiling again. ‘Where are they?’
‘I am very much afraid that I do not know, sir. I
‘Ah,’ said Hervey, frowning. ‘Disagreeable as well as impractical.’
‘Quite. And so, Mr Hervey, if I might be so bold as to trouble you for the draft …’
Hervey had been that morning to the St James’s offices of Gresham’s bank, and there made the arrangements to draw on his account the sum of ?4,125, being the price which, by ruses best not known, the regiment’s colonel, the Earl of Sussex, had struck with the seller. It was, he knew, an expensive way to purchase an annuity of ?270, but so few were the commissions compared with but five years ago, when the cavalry stood at more than twice the number of regiments, that the price was the seller’s for the asking. They were supposedly regulated — the official price for a captaincy in the cavalry was nine hundred pounds below what he was now paying — but the Horse Guards turned a blind eye to the practice of overbidding. It suited, now that there was a general peace in Europe, to have the army returned to the proprietorship of those with considerable independent means, for on the whole they were less ambitious and less troublesome. Hervey handed an envelope to the agent.
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Cox, laying it to one side on his desk without, of course, opening it. ‘That completes the formalities, as I imagine you will recall. Is there any other way that we might be of service?’
There was, and Hervey handed him a list of requirements touching his pay and credit arrangements in India, all of which the agent said would be arranged with very little trouble.
‘I am obliged to you then, Mr Cox. And if you will now excuse me, my sister and I have certain other errands to be about. I am staying at the United Service Club until tomorrow only; I shall see tomorrow’s
They left the agent’s and took a chaise to Piccadilly, to the premises of Mr Gieve, the tailor who held the sealed patterns for the uniform of the 6th Light Dragoons. Hervey’s pleasure in the anticipation of this was easily evident to Elizabeth, who had insisted on accompanying her brother on business he had scarcely imagined would interest her in the slightest — despite what was commonly held to be a female’s inescapable captivation by regimentals.
They were greeted warmly by Mr Rippingale, the same genial cutter who had refurbished his military wardrobe at the end of the war, five years past, and attended him since when there were changes to be made. ‘How very gratifying it is to see you again, sir,’ he said, bowing. ‘We received your letter only a few days ago, but we have made a beginning. Is this your good lady, sir? We read of your nuptials in
Hervey faltered only momentarily. ‘No, Mr Rippingale, the lady is my sister.’ He turned to Elizabeth: ‘My dear, this is Mr Rippingale, who can cut and stitch an overall-stripe straighter than any I have observed.’
Mr Rippingale beamed at the recognition. ‘Good morning, madam. I am flattered by Captain Hervey’s approval, though I must say my work is made easier by the captain’s having an exceedingly good leg for a stripe.’
‘I have observed so, Mr Rippingale,’ replied Elizabeth, returning the smile.
‘Well, then, Captain Hervey — I may call you that, may I not, sir?’
‘I do not see why not, Mr Rippingale. From Monday I shall anyway be gazetted as such.’
‘Yes, indeed, sir. And may I say how glad I am that you are returning to the colours, so to speak.’ As he did so, he pulled aside the curtain of an open-front wardrobe, revealing a rack of uniforms part-made. ‘Your measurements we have had for many years in our order book, sir.’ He turned again to Elizabeth. ‘They have not changed greatly with the passing of the years, madam.’
That it was genuine enough praise was without doubt, and Elizabeth saw in her brother’s face the look of a man who might have received some approving remark from a superior officer. She had perhaps learned more about the soldier in him in a single morning than in all the years before: what simple precepts animated him at root — simple, yet not unexacting.
Hervey first tried the jacket: a good fit, as Mr Rippingale had predicted, as too was the pelisse. ‘Not as dashing as the hussar’s, Elizabeth, I’m afraid,’ he said, frowning a touch as the pelisse was hung on his shoulder to check the fall.
‘May I ask what it is for?’
‘Well, I imagine it served originally as a surtout, but I’ve never had my sleeves through one. If it is cold we wear a cloak.’
‘Then it serves no purpose?’
Mr Rippingale maintained a detached air during the exchange, although with the suggestion of a smile. Useless embellishments were not unwelcome in his trade.
‘It serves the purpose of smartness, I suppose,’ replied Hervey, a little put out by Elizabeth’s utilitarian questioning.
She nodded. ‘And the braided belt, too?’
‘Oh,’ he said, puzzled, as Mr Rippingale took the crossbelt from its brushed cotton wrapping. ‘That is not the Sixth pattern.’
‘Ah,’ replied Mr Rippingale. ‘There has been a change in the regulations. There is no longer a red stripe.’
‘Indeed?’ said Hervey approvingly.
Elizabeth looked curious. ‘Why should that be, do you suppose, Matthew?’
Her brother smiled. ‘The stripe was a bone of contention in the mess when first I joined. Some commanding officer come from another regiment had said he wanted his officers distinguished in some way, so that he might recognize them instantly. And so the stripe was added. Before that the uniform had no red whatsoever, and of that the officers were inordinately proud.’
‘And so your new lieutenant-colonel has obliged the former tradition.’
‘It would seem so. And I am disposed already to like him for it, although it must have stung in the pocket rather.’
‘And I understand, sir, if I may,’ added Mr Rippingale diffidently, ‘that the red cloak has also been replaced by a blue one.’
‘Excellent!’ said Hervey, smiling wide. ‘It was ever a nuisance for covert work. And all because someone had bought so much red cloth years back.’
‘I think I prefer red,’ said Elizabeth, examining a scarlet coatee hanging nearby. ‘I thought the Life Guards looked much nicer than the others this morning.’
Hervey looked pained. ‘You sound like one of Miss Austen’s heroines.’
Elizabeth pulled a face. How her brother was enjoying this! It tokened well.
They were another half an hour at Mr Gieve’s. With each minute Hervey parted with yet more of his modest savings. True, there was a margin to his account before he would need to mortgage his pay, and he had not yet received the past year’s rents of the Chintal jagirs; but he was still most conscious of the need for economy. And half of him believed that to be a very good thing in a soldier (for it would keep him lean, so to speak), while the other half craved the means to be an independent-minded officer. If only he had not so precipitately disposed of all his former uniform.
When they left, Hervey asked if they should look for dining rooms. As Elizabeth said she was not hungry, he took her instead to see Mr Bullock’s ‘Museum of Natural Curiosities’ a little way along Piccadilly. He thought to show her the elephant which stood as the centrepiece in the Egyptian hall, so that he might better give her an account of his struggle to save the Rajah of Chintal’s hunting elephant when that great beast had become stuck fast in the quicksands of the Sukri river. But Bullock’s was more than usually crowded, the main exhibit being no less than
