Company Of Spears

there is nothing for it but the vermicelly soup, and then the oysters, if there are any, and then the snipe pie, I think: it was good the last time I had it.’

Peto frowned. ‘I think it must be extraordinarily old snipe. Oh, very well. I had hoped for something more choice, but…’

‘You may have a beefsteak, of course, sir, or a chop.’

Peto shook his head. ‘Have the wine steward come, if you will.’

‘There’s a very serviceable burgundy,’ tried Hervey.

‘I am pleased for it, but if your regimen tomorrow will permit, I should prefer we take something more robust.’

Hervey nodded. If his old friend wished to fortify himself in anticipation of their lordships’ laying him up, then he had no objection to claret.

‘Damnable business, beached like some dismasted man o’ war, and at two-score years. Damnable. I applied to Hardy, you know, when I heard he was for Portugal.’

Lord Nelson’s flag captain commanded the naval force which had accompanied the army to Lisbon. Hervey would rather not have been reminded, but he decided to make light of it. ‘It was one of my several regrets that I never met him there. I think you would have been well to have been with him, for they’re bound to see action. The Miguelites are pushing hard again, I read. He had no opening for you?’

‘No, though he said he’d remember me to Blackwood, who’s to have the Nore.’

The butler came with his list. Peto assumed command, taking it and holding it to the light as if intent on studying every word.

‘If you will permit me, sir…’

‘I’m always glad of advice from someone who knows his cellar,’ replied Peto, now turning through the hocks and the burgundies until he found what he was looking for. ‘Is Ho Bryan ready?’

‘Oh, yes indeed, sir, very fine. Lord Exmouth and Sir Philip Broke have just taken a second bottle over there.’ He indicated a table at the further end of the room.

Peto looked with suitable reverence, and closed the list. ‘I can’t want for better recommendation.’ ‘Very good, sir.’

‘Frigate men, Hervey,’ he said as the butler withdrew. ‘Swift and bold. None better!’

‘Broke of the Shannon, is that?’

‘Ay,’ replied Peto, maintaining his watch and making no bones about it. ‘I wonder what brings them up?’

‘Do they serve still?’

Peto turned back to his friend. ‘Yes,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Though neither has an active command. Broke must be close to his flag: he’s been post-captain a long time. He was damnably wounded taking the Chesapeake. I wonder if that’s why he dines with Exmouth?’

Hervey knew how hard it must go with Peto, seeing a man promoted when he himself faced the Half-Pay List, albeit Broke was a captain older and much the senior.

The soup arrived, fortuitously, and a bottle, requiring Peto’s close attention.

He tried it, sucking the wine noisily across his tongue. ‘It is passable,’ he said gravely. ‘Though I would keep it another year. Open a second, if you will.’

When the waiter and the butler were gone, Peto gazed long again at Admiral the Viscount Exmouth and Captain Sir Philip Broke, as if they might reveal something of his own situation. Then frowning, intrigued, but with evident determination, he turned back to his old friend.

‘Imagine they are come with the sole intention of enjoying a good dinner,’ suggested Hervey, smiling.

Peto frowned even more. ‘I shall try.’ Then he resolved to hoist his spirits, and emptied his glass. ‘But you must tell me more of your prospects. How are your people?’

Hervey picked up a spoon and began stirring his soup. ‘They are very well, all.’

‘Your sister?’

‘Elizabeth especially.’

‘And Georgiana?’

‘Georgiana is very well. I intend she comes to live with me at Hounslow.’

Peto looked genuinely engaged by this news. ‘Indeed? That is very agreeable. And as it should be.’ He seemed then to hesitate. ‘And your sister shall come to live with you too?’

‘No,’ said Hervey, drawing out the word as if thinking it over. ‘Not for any length of time, to be exact. The truth is, Peto…’

‘Yes?’

He hesitated again. ‘The truth is … I intend marrying.’

His friend’s mouth fell open. ‘You have said nothing of this! Who?’

‘You do not know her. Lady Lankester, my late commanding officer’s widow.’

‘Great heavens!’ boomed Peto, turning a dozen heads in their direction. ‘A widow!’

Hervey winced. ‘My dear fellow, your discretion if you will! I have not yet proposed!’

‘Bah! A widow? She’ll not turn you down!’

‘She is of independent means.’

‘Of course she is. I’d never take you for a fool!’

Now Hervey frowned. ‘She has a child too, not yet one year.’

‘And evidently therefore of proper maternal sentiment.’

‘Just so.’

Peto looked long at his old friend. ‘Tell me, Hervey: you love this woman?’

‘Peto!’

‘Come, man: mayn’t we speak of these things?’

‘I … do not yet … that is to say I … have not yet had opportunity to form so deep an attachment.’

‘You have met the woman?’

‘Of course I’ve met her! We met in Calcutta after Sir Ivo Lankester was killed at Bhurtpore.’

‘And how many times since?’

Hervey shifted awkwardly in his chair. ‘Just the once. But—’

‘Well, if it’s a mother for Georgiana you’re looking for…’

‘Don’t be absurd, Peto; it’s not only that. She’s a fine woman, a handsome woman – very handsome, indeed.’

‘More handsome than Lady Katherine Greville?’

Hervey glanced anxiously at the ears still inclined in their direction. ‘What is Katherine Greville to do with it?’

‘You ask me?’

‘You know very well the circumstances.’

‘Indeed I do, as does, I suspect, half this dinner room, though they might not put face to the name.’

Hervey shifted even more awkwardly. ‘I do wish you would lower your voice.’

‘Well, I consider it a double occasion for celebration! You will be lieutenant-colonel, and with a rich and beautiful widow at your side. I envy you; I truly envy you.’

This latter was said in a tone of some fervour. And Hervey – for all that both occasions for congratulations were yet but aspiration – felt the true extent of his old friend’s melancholy.

* * *

Hervey had instructed the coachman to return to the United Service Club at eleven o’clock so that he could be back in Hounslow by one. Several times during the evening he had wondered if instead he might go to Holland Park; his letter to Kat of the day before said he would call as soon as he was able, uncertain as he was when that might be on account of being summoned to the aid of the civil power. There were matters about which he must speak with her. One matter, rather. It was insupportable that he should press his suit with Kezia Lankester while continuing to call at Holland Park. He must make a clean breast of things, and at once; certainly before travelling to Gloucestershire. That was what he could do this evening at Holland Park.

Except that it was late. Kat kept late hours, it was true. The trouble was … the affair of Waltham Abbey, the