An Act Of Courage

regiment not least.

The recovery had been more rapid than anyone had supposed possible. In part this was due to Major Joseph Edmonds – or Captain Edmonds, as first he was when they came back from Corunna – whose unremitting exertions drove every man to the greatest effort. The best of the non-commissioned officers, too, had shown energy and enterprise of a high order, and the troop-officers themselves – denied leave even to request leave of absence by Edmonds – had achieved much by their mere attendance at parades. But it was the prompt appointment of a new commanding officer, and the nature of that officer, which turned endeavour into spectacular success.

Hervey could picture it still, as if it had been two, not eighteen, years past. Lieutenant-Colonel Lord George Irvine, second son of the Marquess of Tain, arrived at the Sixth’s Canterbury depot the fortnight following their own arrival, and it was at once evident that the new commanding officer was intent on gathering up the reins without delay. Instead of a stately progress from London by a Tain chariot, he arrived in a high tandem cocking cart covered in the mud of the Brighton road, for he meant business, and the earliest start to it. Hervey recalled Edmonds’s surprise as Lord George jumped from the box, in front of the officers’ house, and began brushing the mud from his hat.

Edmonds knew him by sight (and reputation) right enough, which was as well since Lord George’s plain clothes gave little clue to his rank. ‘Good morning, my lord,’ he said, saluting. ‘Edmonds, senior captain. We did not expect you so soon, else I should have turned out the quarter-guard.’

Lord George Irvine smiled as he took off his travelling coat. ‘It is of no matter. And “Colonel” will serve well enough.’

Edmonds took the outstretched hand. ‘Indeed, we had an express only this morning from Lord Sussex saying you were appointed to command. My congratulations, Colonel. I am sorry you will not find the regiment in hale condition.’

‘That is why I am come so soon. Tell me of it.’

‘You will want to retire first, Colonel. Will you come inside?’

Lord George Irvine, invigorated by the drive, was impervious to the cold of the early February morning. ‘I think I will take a turn of the camp, if you please, Edmonds.’

Edmonds smiled to himself appreciatively. ‘By all means.’

They struck off towards the horse lines.

‘I have the scrip for your majority, by the way.’

Edmonds guarded his relief. The promotion by death-vacancy was his by right and custom, but these were difficult times and there was no knowing what the Horse Guards might direct. Money might yet speak. He had advanced free the last time, when two captains had been appointed major on the raising of five new regiments, and before that to lieutenant when the Flanders fevers had laid low so many. A third time was fortune indeed.

‘I am gratified, Colonel.’

‘No, Edmonds, not “gratified”: you are rewarded, if all I hear is true.’

Major Edmonds allowed himself a moment of happy contemplation. Margaret would be as relieved as he at the improvement in their situation: it was no easy thing raising two daughters and keeping an establishment on captain’s pay and two modest annuities. It was a pity the three of them had quit the depot for Norfolk when the regiment sailed for Portugal, for he had seen so little of them in the decade of war with Bonaparte, and news by letter would be flat . . .

And then he remembered there were others who would benefit from his free promotion. ‘Lennox will be obliged, as senior lieutenant, Colonel. He is nicely fitted for a troop.’

‘Capital.’

Two dragoons approached, throwing up sharp salutes as they passed.

‘I would speak with them, Edmonds, if you please.’

‘Crampton, Hardy!’

The two men spun about and stood at attention.

‘Your troop, Edmonds, I presume?’

‘No, Colonel: D.’

‘Indeed?’ Lord George Irvine marked his major’s recognition of dragoons other than his own.

‘Both chosen-men; distinguished themselves in Portugal.’ Edmonds eyed them directly. ‘Your new commanding officer, gentlemen.’

‘Sir!’

Lord George Irvine looked them up and down, carefully. ‘The patching is well executed, I must say. There’s more of it than serge, though.’

‘We’ve had to scour the county for cloth to patch with,’ said Edmonds. ‘I’ve had promised an issue of cloaks by the end of the month, but coats and breeches there’s no sign of.’

It had been a point of some pride in the Sixth, even among those officers not usually given to administrative detail, that the regiment was able to patch itself into a passable state so quickly. For years after, Edmonds was as much revered for his address with interior economy as he was for the way he handled a squadron. But even Edmonds had not been able to restore the regiment’s spirits entirely, for something of their pride had gone, as it had, indeed, in the army as a whole. The retreat to Corunna had cost them dear, and the storm-tossed passage through Biscay had taken a heavy toll as well, so that all the army could do on landing in England was lick its wounds and hide from public gaze in the tatters of their regimentals. They would not be fit to send back to the Peninsula in six months, perhaps a year. Not even the cavalry, for their horses were but maggot-ridden meat on the cliffs of Corunna.

‘Which of you is Crampton?’ asked Lord George.

‘I am, Colonel.’

‘Do you have a cloak?’

‘No, Colonel. Lost it at Corunna.’

‘And you, Hardy?’

‘Lost mine an’ all, Colonel. We was in the same boat, an’ it tipped over.’

Lord George shook his head. ‘And your sabre and carbine?’

‘Managed to hang on to both, Colonel.’

‘Good man. And you, Crampton?’

‘The same, Colonel. I think we all of us ’ad us carbines clipped on us belts. That were the orders, Colonel.’

Lord George turned to his major. ‘Your orders, Edmonds?’

‘I’m afraid so, Colonel. I had assumed command the day before.’

Lord George knew the unhappy circumstances well enough; Colonel Reynell’s death by his own hand was remarked throughout the service. He turned back to the dragoons. ‘What else did you manage to save? Not much, I imagine.’

‘Nothing, Colonel, not even us small-pack things,’ answered Crampton for them both.

‘Half the regiment will say the same,’ added Edmonds. ‘We didn’t save a single trooper, burned every piece of leather, and we brought off only a few of the chargers. The paymaster has sent in a return, and we can draw from the imprest account until the losses are adjusted. But we’ve had few remounts so far. I’ve ridden as far as Lewes, buying.’

‘Mm. Thank you, gentlemen,’ said Lord George, turning about and touching the peak of his hat as they saluted. ‘Tell me of the captains, Edmonds.’

Edmonds took him by way of the empty manege to ensure a little privacy and freedom from salutes. ‘You may know that Rawlings advanced to major, and has gone onto half pay.’

‘Yes, and Sussex believes he will remain thus for a year at least. He is really quite ill. I know him a little: he will fight to get back on the Active List, but his doctor is adamant on the matter.’

Edmonds nodded, doubly grateful for the information, for even though Rawlings was senior, it confirmed him in the regimental (as opposed to the second) majority. ‘Twentyman has D. He boughtin a year ago from the Tenth. Very steady, he was, in Spain. Lennox shall have my troop, C. He will have a good lieutenant and quartermaster, which he will need. He is inclined to upset when things go wrong.’

Lord George made a mental note. ‘A Richmond Lennox is he?’