It was a good question. Hervey had every reason to believe he would. Lord George’s solicitude on his returning from Portugal, his immediate entrusting of acting command to him, spoke volumes. And, indeed, there were very nearly two decades’ association in peace and war. These were no mere things. But the lieutenant- colonelcy of a regiment of cavalry in peacetime was a much coveted prize. There would be no shortage of bidders.
‘I believe he will.’
‘And ten thousand shall be sufficient?’
Hervey was pulled up short again, as ever, by Elizabeth’s percipience. There had been much speculation in the mess about the figure. Over time, officers had found more or less legal means to circumvent the regulations, and the price had crept up, whatever the Horse Guards said. Ten thousand
‘I think so, yes, with my own captaincy taken into account and a little extra.’
‘You don’t then have poor Benedict Strickland’s majority?’ Elizabeth knew the regulations only partially.
Hervey shook his head. ‘If the enemy rather than the Oxford mail had killed him then I should have.’
‘Well, I do not imagine that your amiable Colonel Joynson would wish to sell to anyone else once he knows that you are entering the lists.’
That was a highly questionable proposition. Hervey had not the slightest doubt that if command were in Eustace Joynson’s gift he would have had it by now. But the lieutenant-colonelcy, although it had come to Joynson free on the death of Sir Ivo Lankester at Bhurtpore, was now the means of his subsistence in retirement. ‘Frankly, Elizabeth, he’d be a fool to part with it for a penny less than the maximum bid.’
‘Entering the lists’ reminded him too: there was a procedure. He was meant to have submitted his name in the quarterly returns – ‘suitable for promotion and willing to purchase’. It was for the general officer commanding the London District, now that Hervey was acting in command, to certify both, and the appropriate financial guarantees, but he himself had to instigate it. And he would have to make sure that the recommendation for promotion was to lieutenant-colonel, for he held the substantive rank of captain; his majority had come by brevet and by temporary assignment as second in command. There must be no bureaucratic slip: he held more than enough service to qualify for promotion to the lieutenant-colonelcy. Except that the deuced rules had changed, had they not? That is what Myles Vanneck had told him.
He made to get up.
‘Sit still, Matthew! What is it you want?’
‘The portfolio by my bed.’
Elizabeth went herself rather than ring for Hannah.
When she returned Hervey began searching the portfolio with a degree of anxiety. Then he found it, an extract from
He put down the file and cursed to himself. Did anyone take notice of this? In the past when an officer wanted to sell out it was all arranged decorously by the regimental agents: the one would name his price, another would offer to pay, and the colonel of the regiment would approve it. Now it seemed that
He cursed beneath his breath. No, there was a way round every regulation: that much he had learned, and should have learned a dozen years before. He would write at once to his friend John Howard at the Horse Guards; and, of course, he would press his case in person.
‘Elizabeth, I fear I shall have to return to Hounslow rather sooner than I had expected.’
His sister looked puzzled. ‘But you said you would be able to spend a little time with us.’
Hervey looked preoccupied. ‘Yes … indeed. I’m sorry. But something has most unquestionably come up.’
V
STABLEMATES
Hervey reached the cavalry barracks just as watch setting began. He had forgotten that today it would be at three o’clock since there was a levee at Windsor and every other dragoon was required for duty there. For all but the commanding officer the gates would remain shut until the inspections were complete and the guard posted, any who had business in or out of the barracks seeing to it that they were clear of the guardhouse by the orderly trumpeter’s ‘parade for picket’, otherwise suffering the delay. It had been a long drive, but if he had remembered the advanced time of guard mounting he would have adjusted their speed over the last mile or so. He would exercise his privilege now of interrupting the sacred proceedings.
‘Commanding officer!’ shouted Corporal Denny from the leader of the regimental chariot, not allowing the horses to halt and thereby acknowledge that the commanding officer of the 6th Light Dragoons, even an acting one, could be impeded at his own gates.
The sentry scuttled through the postern like a rat started by a terrier. Seconds later the big iron-clad doors swung open, dragoons heaving with all their strength.
‘Details, atte-e-enshun!’ bellowed the corporal for the inlying picket (the detailed men were not actually designated ‘picket’ until the picket officer had finished his inspection).
With scarcely checked speed, the chariot rolled through the gateway arch. Hervey acknowledged the salutes, the gate sentry with his carbine at the ‘present’, the picket officer, a mint-new cornet from his own squadron, and the orderly serjeant-major saluting with the hand, and the rest standing rigidly to attention.
Corporal Denny reined up outside regimental headquarters. The orderly dragoon, who had doubled from the guardhouse, pulled down the chariot’s folding step, and opened the door. It had been six days since Hervey had left for Horningsham (the bout of remittent fever had detained him two days longer than he had intended) and he wanted to see District Orders and the adjutant’s occurrence book before appearing at mess.
There was no one in the orderly room, but in his office were several letters. Three were in hands he recognized: Lord George Irvine’s, Kat’s, and that of his old friend Captain (sometime Commodore) Sir Laughton Peto. He hesitated before opening his colonel’s, for likely it contained the reply to his express asking leave to purchase the lieutenant-colonelcy. Not that he entertained the slightest doubt as to Lord George’s support. Nevertheless he laid it aside for the moment to deal instead with the four unrecognized hands. These, however, turned out to be matters of no great account, which could wait for the morning. Next he opened Kat’s. Before he had left for Wiltshire he had sent her a brief note saying he would be gone some days, but expected to return within the week.
