instructed to place a brigade in readiness.’
‘And you intend to join it?’
‘Strickland, I hope the
‘Fair Greece! Sad relic of departed worth!’
Hervey looked puzzled.
‘Lord Byron.’
‘You are a clever fellow.’
‘Have a care that Greece is not the death of
Hervey frowned. ‘You would live for ever?’
‘I would live a little longer! At least till I have the dust of Hindoostan out of my lungs. Perhaps you shall learn more this evening.’
Hervey nodded slowly. ‘It is certainly my intention. The duke will be taciturn, no doubt, but I am seeing John Howard before dinner, and he is illuminating company always.’
By three o’clock, Hervey was fair flying along the King’s New Road. It was probably the best turnpike in the country. In an hour and a half, or less if there was not too much carting traffic and the horses could have an occasional gallop, the officers of the Sixth could reach the clubs and drawing rooms of St James’s. This was certainly Hervey’s intention this afternoon as he sped in a chariot with the Greville arms emblazoned on the doors. Lady Katherine Greville had been most insistent. He was to be her escort at Apsley House, and she could do no less than have him travel comfortably, and fast, to town. She had been disappointed when he had declined her invitation to stay at Holland Park, but, he explained, he would have business to transact early at St James’s, and it were better that he lodged, as usual, at the United Service Club in Charles Street. It was not the whole truth, but Lady Katherine’s portion of their correspondence while he had been in India filled a small trunk, and with Lieutenant- General Sir Peregrine Greville not in residence (his duties as military governor of Alderney and Sark, such as they were, detaining him almost permanently on the other side of the English Channel) he judged it prudent to observe a strict decorum. But first there was his engagement with his old friend at White’s. There could scarcely have been a less auspicious beginning to any friendship than that which was theirs. Lieutenant, as he had then been, Lord John Howard had arrived at the vicarage in Horningsham those eleven years past to place the then Cornet Matthew Hervey in arrest and to bring him to London. They had never served together, but the circumstances of their meeting, and their subsequent acquaintance, had been such as to build a mutual regard. It was a regard, too, that might have puzzled any outside the service, since Lord John Howard had risen by purchase two ranks higher than Hervey, and had done so without ever hearing a shot fired in anger. Hervey’s regard for him rested in considerable measure on his friend’s own humility in that respect. But above all the regard was conditioned by Lord John Howard’s evident qualities as a military courtier and staff officer, qualities which, Hervey knew full well, eluded him.
When he arrived at the United Service he found it in some disarray. It had been resolved for many months that the club would give up its premises in Charles Street and move to a new house to be built on land close to Carlton House, which was being demolished, the King having moved to Buckingham Palace, and it seemed that the whole business bore heavily on the club’s functioning. So much so that Hervey found himself allocated a bed in a temporary dormitory, and a place in a queue for a bath.
He now wished he had brought a servant of his own. That way, at least, he might have his levee dress laid out reliably while he had his soak. Doubtless, though, it would all be worth the inconvenience when the move was done, for the present building was scarcely commodious, and the oil gas lighting had a very rank smell – although a hundred guineas per debenture (the members had to raise the extra funds) had come as an unwelcome call on his finances so soon after arriving in Hounslow.
He hoped, too, that hot water might come to the baths in the new house through pipes rather than by the method he had known in India; for his place in the queue meant he had little enough of it now. Nevertheless, he managed to divest himself of what remained of Hounslow Heath, and to dress himself without mishap, and to cross St James’s Square and beyond to St James’s Street in time for his much looked-to appointment. But for all the diversions of this, the greatest capital city in the world, India had many comforts he missed, and he could only hope that his friend at the Horse Guards brought ripe news.
‘One glass, yes,’ replied Hervey to Lord John Howard’s offer of champagne. ‘I should want the clearest head this evening.’
‘For the Duke of Wellington, or . . .?’
The proscription against ladies’ names did not hamper communication. ‘Just so,’ said Hervey, nodding solemnly, yet his face just a shade wry.
‘Hervey, I simply do not know why you will not come to the Horse Guards. I am sure I could arrange it. With the Duke of York in such ill health there is an increase in our work, and your experience of India alone would recommend you to the quartermaster-general.’
Hervey smiled and shook his head. ‘My dear Howard, what colour is my coat?’
Lord John Howard frowned. Hervey was in levee dress; not only was his coat blue but his pantaloons too. Indeed, there was not a trace of red anywhere on his uniform – something the Sixth were rather proud of. ‘You are quite wrong, you know. The Horse Guards is by no means the preserve of the Household regiments. And certainly shan’t be when the Duke of Wellington is commander-in-chief.’
‘A
Lord John Howard raised his eyebrows and drew in his breath as if to say ‘but what’s to be done?’
‘And in any case,’ said Hervey, ‘the duke, despite his own service in the Line, has never shown much inclination to appoint his close staff from within it.’
‘Now that is a moot case indeed, as well your own experience must show. Why do you not at least sit with me there for a week or so and see the work? I warrant you’d find it as absorbing as anything in Hounslow.’
That much was probably true, thought Hervey. The routine of his troop, after seven full years at its head, bore few surprises. His brevet was of no use to him there, and with no prospect of purchase it was a routine that stretched before him indefinitely. ‘I thank you, Howard. I truly do. But I must trust to my instincts in these matters, and I am certain that if there is any distinction for me to be had it must be in the saddle.’
‘Why then do you not exchange, or purchase in another?’
Now it was Hervey who raised his eyebrows and inclined his head, acknowledging the challenge was a fair one. ‘Perhaps I might. For a short time at least. I have worn that uniform since I was seventeen, though, and seen others do likewise. There would be no certainty of returning if once I sold out.’
A candle in one of the wall sconces began to flicker and spit, diverting Howard’s attention for a moment.
‘Are you sure you are not confusing your intention, Hervey? You are ambitious for high rank, I imagine – and justly so – yet only by advancement in the Sixth. What is to be the answer if only the one or the other may be obtained?’
Hervey considered the question carefully, looking directly the while into his friend’s eyes. ‘Perhaps ambition for high rank, naked of such values as a regiment upholds, is to be deprecated.’
‘What sort of answer is that?’
Hervey smiled. ‘The best I can manage for the time being. But your point is not lost on me. I could have had your rank, albeit as a brevet, in Calcutta, but I should have forfeited a degree of honour which the Sixth could not have forgotten.’
‘Ay. And I do not suppose that Lord Combermere’s coat tails would take you far either, from what I hear at the Horse Guards. The Duke of York is vexed with him over Bhurtpore.’
‘I had considered that too, I do confess. But, see, the hour advances and we have not spoken yet of affairs.’
Lord John Howard now returned the smile. ‘My dear fellow, let me first refill your glass. There is a deal to cover.’
Hervey accepted; there was an hour and a half before he was due at Apsley House, with a drive to and from Holland Park in the meantime – long enough to sip and hear the news in tomorrow’s
‘Hah! Would we not all? I am just come from Lord Bathurst, and he said scarce a thing of it. The Admiralty
