Man Of War

He sighed deeply to himself; it could no more be helped (surely Kat could not now persuade her husband to withdraw, not now a convening order named him?). He opened a second letter, from the colonel of the Sixth, Lieutenant-General Lord George Irvine. It acknowledged his own, thanking him for his information that he was returned to London temporarily, and expressed the strongest wish to see him when Lord George returned from his tour of inspection of the northern command in June.

Hervey laid it aside, heartened, as letters from Lord George almost invariably made him, and opened a third, with the stamp of the Hounslow orderly room.

My dear Hervey,I have been acquainted with the facts following from my indisposition at Windsor, of your own exemplary conduct in the matter, and indeed that of Captain Fairbrother. I would that you call on me, when your duties both military and domestic permit, so that I may properly commend your address, and also that of Captain Fairbrother.Believe me &c

Holderness

A handsome communication, thought Hervey, and no easy thing for a proud man to write. What, however, did it change? What ought it to change? He had done his duty, just as he would expect of any man (even unto death . . .). Did he now look to reward for doing his duty? What was become of him . . .? But what manner of system was it that could not promote ability unless it were allied to interest? Why did these things have to be redressed too late, at the price of brave men’s breasts? It had been so in the Peninsula; and ever since peace had come to Europe it had been even more so. He would, of course, call on the lieutenant-colonel, as bidden, but he would not do so with any haste, for it were better that more time elapsed, that sentiments be tempered.

He next read Kat’s, and with some trepidation. He hoped against hope for a line that would overturn Howard’s final intelligence, a sudden announcement of Sir Peregrine’s ‘indisposition’, but the letter was merely an invitation for him and Fairbrother – whom she wished very much to meet – to dine with her as soon as they were able.

He then pondered a moment on which of the remaining letters to open next. Fancying he knew what Elizabeth’s would say at last (and he would wish the time to savour it), he chose that in the unfamiliar hand.

‘Hear this, Fairbrother – the deucedest thing,’ he said, taking in its contents at a glance, a single sentence. ‘My dear Sir, if you would call at the rooms of Sir Thomas Lawrence P.R.A. of Russell-square, you might learn something to your advantage.’ He lowered the letter. ‘The stuff of theatre, eh?’

Fairbrother’s brow furrowed. ‘The Sir Thomas Lawrence?’

‘Just so. I wonder if Somervile did indeed sit for him before we left for the Cape. He certainly had ambitions in that direction. He said nothing of it, though.’

‘Mystery indeed,’ said Fairbrother, raising his Standard again.

Hervey was wrong in his imagining what were the contents of Elizabeth’s letter, however. Indeed, he had wholly misjudged it. Far from acknowledging her fault and reaffirming her acceptance of Peto’s proposal, she wrote that she was travelling to London soon in the company of Major Heinrici to attend a levee at St James’s Palace, which the King was giving for the former officers of The King’s German Legion. ‘My God, there’s no end to it,’ he groaned. ‘She’s lost all sense of decency!’

Fairbrother lowered his paper, looking pained. ‘You are not speaking of your sister?’

‘I am. She’s coming to London with . . . with this German.’

‘Well, I’m sure she will do so decorously.’

Hervey seemed not to hear. He shook his head. ‘I cannot believe it. I simply cannot believe it.’

They engaged a hackney cab to Russell Square. It was Fairbrother’s idea – to take his friend out of the huff and puff of the United Service’s smoking room so that he might stop his most unfraternal invective against Elizabeth. The letter from Sir Thomas Lawrence’s agent had admirably served his purpose.

‘It really would have been better to send word that we would call tomorrow,’ said Hervey as they turned into Bedford Square, where the Somerviles had taken a house when Sir Eyre Somervile had been at the Company’s headquarters in Leadenhall Street: was it that Sir Thomas Lawrence’s rooms were so near that he had been able to prevail on the illustrious painter?

‘I rather imagined you’d be detained at the Colonial Office – don’t you think?’