Man Of War

sign of what disturbed her.

No, that would not do; it smacked of deceit. He must speak with her before dinner. Let them have it out, and then if she did not see where sense and duty lay (he could hardly conceive that possible, but then in her present state of evident . . . derangement, anything was possible) – if she could not see the proper course, then she would have the whole of their dinner to reflect on the situation, the whole unhappy, untoward business!

In consequence of the shocking family news, Hervey was able to afford Georgiana only a brief interview, promising to spend the morning with her instead. She told him of her pony – the one he had bought her when he had come back from India – and the Broadwood piano (which he had sent her for her . . . he did not remember quite which birthday). She wanted to play for him there and then. But he had to protest that it was a pleasure he must suspend until the morning too.

Georgiana was disappointed, but not excessively so, for she understood that her father had travelled a very great distance and would wish to rest. And there was his friend Captain Fairbrother to be looked after, and Aunt Elizabeth too . . .

Hervey professed himself grateful to Georgiana for her patience, and accompanied her to her bedroom, where he saw that the housemaid had already brought a bowl of hot water. ‘I retire myself without assistance, Papa,’ she said, matter of fact rather than proud.

‘Very well,’ he replied, kissing her forehead. ‘Until the morning.’

Elizabeth was in their father’s book room when Hervey sought her out. She had put on an evening dress, quite formal, and she looked perfectly composed when he entered.

‘Well, brother, you have spoken with Mama and will know my news. That is why you are come, is it not? Mama sent for you?’

Hervey was thrown disconcerted on to the defensive. ‘I should anyway have come at the first opportunity.’

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows challengingly.

‘But Elizabeth, this is a sorry affair. I—’

‘Sorry? Sorry, Matthew? I see no cause for sorrow. I had hoped you might take pleasure in my happiness!’

Hervey now raised his eyebrows. ‘I did. I most certainly did – last year when you accepted Peto’s offer of marriage.’

Elizabeth looked away momentarily. ‘I am very sorry, of course, to disappoint so good a man as Captain Peto.’ She looked directly at him again. ‘But I took advantage of that same good nature. I should never have accepted the offer, for I did not love him.’

Hervey looked at her, astonished, incredulous. ‘But you would have come to love him. He is so fine a man. What else could you wish for?’

Elizabeth smiled benignly, almost indulgently. ‘I cannot marry a man I do not love, Matthew, no matter how much I admire him.’

Hervey shook his head, lowered his voice and spoke slowly. ‘How can you go back on your promise? And why was I not to know until now, and from Mama?’

Elizabeth returned the challenge in his eyes, calmly defiant. ‘I did not promise. That would have been for the marriage ceremony itself.’

Hervey bridled at what he perceived as casuistry. ‘Elizabeth! You gave your answer to a man who was sailing to face the King’s enemies. Is that not of some moment?’

Elizabeth almost smiled in her exasperation. ‘You mean it mightn’t be so bad if he were merely on a guard- ship at Portsmouth?’

Hervey was positively angering. ‘I mean, is Peto not due some especial consideration thereby?’

Elizabeth sighed. ‘He is, of course. And I shall write to him in the most considerative terms, I assure you.’

‘You have not written to him?’

‘I have written to him, yes. I have written several letters to him – why would not you think that I had? But . . . I am only lately come to the certainty that I cannot marry him, and therefore to the resolve to write to him in those terms. Do you know how long it takes a letter to reach him?’

Hervey was puzzled by the turn. ‘No?’

‘Well nor do I! I have not received a single letter since he sailed, and that the better part of a year ago. I know, of course, that he will have written, but I don’t suppose the mails are obliging at sea.’

‘Elizabeth, there is an irreverence in your tone which I find incomprehensible. Do you not understand that Peto commands the most powerful of His Majesty’s ships presently at sea, or that he has held that command in the greatest of sea battles since Trafalgar?’

A note of pleading replaced the wholly defiant: ‘But Matthew, I cannot be obliged to marry a man against my inclinations on account of his gallantry . . . or on account of my previous error of judgement.’

Hervey found no answer.

‘Besides, I love Major Heinrici.’

‘I cannot believe it!’

‘That I love someone? Whyever not, Matthew? You knew him once indeed: you must admit that he too is a fine man.’

‘I? Knew him once?’

‘In Spain, and at Waterloo.’

Hervey was beginning a very distant recollection . . .

‘In the King’s German Legion.’

Hervey now recalled it – but a Rittmeister, a captain of cavalry, a man several years his senior. ‘I don’t understand . . . How . . .’

‘He is a widower. His wife died three years ago. There are three children – three daughters.’ Elizabeth’s face brightened with a happy confidence that even Hervey could not fail to recognize. Indeed, he had never seen her face thus.

He turned away. He must not let such a consideration cloud his judgement.

* * *

Dinner was not a joyful event. Hervey had told Fairbrother what had transpired between Elizabeth and him, as much as anything to save his friend from any innocent but uncomfortable remark at table. Fairbrother, however, had registered bewilderment at Hervey’s vehemence, and the following morning, while his friend walked with Georgiana and her pony in Longleat Park, he offered to accompany Elizabeth on an errand towards Warminster.

‘I am sorry you have met us in these less than concordant circumstances, Captain Fairbrother,’ Elizabeth began, forthright, before they were long left the parsonage.

Fairbrother was not in the least discomfited. Rather he welcomed the opportunity to address the matter. ‘Do not trouble for my part, Miss Hervey; I am only sorry that there is any occasion for discord in so evidently close a family as yours, about which I have heard much.’

‘You are very gracious, sir,’ replied Elizabeth, and meaning it. ‘I am gratified at least to know that we occupy some part of my brother’s thoughts when he is at his duties.’

Fairbrother sensed the acerbity, for all Elizabeth’s sweetness. ‘Miss Hervey, forgive my interference, but I have spent much time of late in your brother’s company, and I can certainly attest to his thoughts in that regard. He has been more occupied with what he perceives as his familial duty than I have observed in any man.’

Elizabeth smiled, conceding. ‘I am sure it is so, Captain Fairbrother. Indeed, I wish at times he were not so very occupied.’

Fairbrother frowned. ‘You think it ill suited to him in some way?’

Elizabeth sighed. ‘In truth I do, for he cannot think . . . evenly. He is bound still by some sense of guilt in the loss of his wife, and I am sure that it clouds his judgement in all things.’

‘I may certainly attest to the rawness of his feelings in regard to his late wife.’

Elizabeth’s expression became pained. ‘She was my good friend too, sir.’