Company Of Spears

Guards!’

‘I don’t think that touched on the decision. You’ve seen the rooms upstairs here.’

‘I have. Tolerable, I’d say.’

Hervey pulled a face. He knew when his old friend was being perverse.

‘Now, this business at Waltham Abbey: the coffee room was awash with the crack earlier. Talk of cavalry, and fire exchanged. Do you know of it?’

‘I’m sorry to say I do. That is why I could not come before. We were most particularly engaged.’

‘A pretty kettle of fish, by all accounts. Or rather, by those accounts to be had. And by God there were plenty to be had in the coffee room. None mentioned your gallants, though. I shall be all attention. You were not discomposed greatly, I trust?’

‘Discomposed?’ Hervey sighed. ‘One of ours killed, and four more wounded.’

Peto looked suitably aghast. ‘My dear fellow. Who was your man killed, any I should know?’

The waiter returned, and they took their glasses.

Hervey shook his head. ‘A dragoon called Lightowler, not long with us, joined just before Bhurtpore. He had an uncle a serjeant. I always thought it a most pleasant name. A good sort too; never complained said the corporals. He had a blood-red right eye, most strange.’

Peto looked approving. ‘I have always admired your knowing your dragoons as men.’

Hervey looked faintly puzzled. ‘You, I recall, knew all your crew.’

‘Hervey, do you suppose those fine fellows in red who drill each day over yonder’ (he nodded in the direction of the Horse Guards) ‘are known to anyone but as a number?’

Hervey’s brow furrowed. ‘That is rather different. To see a company of infantry load and volley is like seeing a machine working, a machine with a deuced lot of parts.’

‘You have seen many machines working, have you?’

He reflected the smile. ‘Now that you mention it…’

‘Just so.’ Peto looked solicitous again. ‘Was anyone else hurt?’

‘Worsley, one of the troop captains, and Mr Hairsine, the sarn’t-major. You remember him?’ Peto nodded.

‘And two others. They’ll all be well in due course says the surgeon, but…’

‘The Evening Mail’s saying it was a papist affair.’

Hervey inclined his head. ‘And very convenient that is for the opposition to the Catholic Association. There’ll be motions in parliament this very week to set the law on them, I shouldn’t wonder.’

Peto took another sip of his sherry. ‘Damned fine, this, Hervey,’ he said, holding it up to the light to appreciate it fully. ‘But I must say, I had not appreciated you were quite so strong for emancipation. You keep your opinion to yourself, I trust? Not exactly the way to honours with your new commander-in-chief.’

Hervey raised an eyebrow. The Duke of Wellington had always made plain his opinion, not that that would have made any difference to him. But above all the duke was pragmatic. ‘I think now the Duke of York is dead you may find Wellington is of a different mind. That, at any rate, is what John Howard says. But see, I have no very strong opinion. I only object to being drawn into the game of it. And I very much suspect that last night was such a game.’

Rather to Hervey’s surprise, for his old friend had never been what could be called circumspect, Peto glanced left and right and lowered his voice. ‘They buy at Berry Brothers, you know, as do I.’

Hervey was mystified.

‘Who?‘

‘Our club!’

Hervey kicked himself. He was out of practice in his friend’s methods of conversation. The signal to change subjects had not been so obscure. ‘You will be laying in more for your next commission, then? Or shall you be able to buy directly whence it’s shipped?’

But Peto looked suddenly pained. ‘Hervey, my old friend, there will be no more commissions. I shan’t get another ship. They’re being laid up as we speak in every creek between Yarmouth and the Isle of Wight. I shan’t even make the “yellow squadron”. Certainly not now that Clarence is Lord High Admiral.’

Hervey was taken aback. His old friend was frequently acerbic, but never despondent. ‘I cannot believe it. You were commodore twice. You were made K.C.B. but six months ago. I cannot believe the admiralty would dispense with such a record.’

‘The record is by no means singular. And Clarence has no opinion of me.’

‘After Ava?’ Hervey was doubly incredulous. ‘Wherefore does Clarence have no opinion of you?’

‘Perhaps because I have none of him.’

‘Ah.’ Hervey recognized the condition. ‘But Clarence will not be appointing captains, surely?’

‘That is his prerogative, and I’m told he intends exercising it. I’d as soon throw in with Cochrane and his Greeks.’

Hervey nodded thoughtfully. He had read that Admiral Cochrane had taken command of the Greek navy. ‘And do you see that Colonel Church is to be “generalissimo” of their army? I’d thought at one time to apply to him myself.’

‘I don’t know any Colonel Church,’ replied Peto, absently.

‘Nor do I, but I’ve read of him. He was with the Corsican Rangers, then raised a battalion of Greeks in our service.’

‘What stands in your way, then? You’d have the sun on your back again.’

Hervey smiled, with a touch of modesty. ‘I believe I shall soon have the regiment. I’ve been left a considerable legacy for the purpose – by Daniel Coates. You remember Dan Coates? He died not a fortnight ago.’

‘I do remember. I’m sorry to hear it. Salt of the earth.’

Hervey nodded. ‘Just so. And ever generous.’

Peto brightened. ‘But this is good news: lieutenant-colonel! And not before time – long after time, indeed! We must have champagne. When is it accomplished?’ He beckoned the waiter eagerly.

‘Wait! It is not accomplished. There are formalities. I have applied to the colonel. I know he wishes me to have it, but there are other irons in that fire and it may be some time. Besides, Somervile’s to be lieutenant-governor at the Cape Colony and has made me a most tempting offer.’

‘And you’re disposed to accept?’

‘I’m certainly disposed to thinking of it, especially if the alternative is to be more as last night.’

Peto looked disappointed. ‘I don’t believe you would refuse your regiment even for a brigade of Marines! … We can at least have a good claret?’

Hervey smiled. ‘I can see no reason why not; there is still your own honour to celebrate.’

Peto rose. ‘It gets me a table next to the window here, but that, I think, is the extent of its usefulness. But let us go and dine. I hear they douse the galley fire at nine.’

The house dinner room was full, the window wall lined with KCBs and some more senior honours. They took the last table, in a dark corner but convenient for confidential talk, which Hervey at least was pleased with. A waiter brought the list.

‘Great heavens,’ growled Peto, holding it to the light. ‘There’s more crossed out than in! One soup, is there no fish?’

‘’Fraid not, sir,’ said the waiter, matter of fact. ‘We’s been uncommon busy tonight, sir; on account of the —’

‘Not even oysters?’

‘I can ask M’seur Franswar, sir.’

‘And who is he?’ asked Peto, suspiciously.

‘He is the new French cook, sir. Came on Monday.’

‘I’d be obliged. Good and devilled, if he will.’ He looked at his friend. ‘Yours, Hervey?’

Hervey had been studying the list – not that the alternatives before him required great concentration, except that the excisions were of the French dishes that Monsieur Francois had evidently introduced that very week. ‘Well,