Man Of War

The turbot was brought, which provoked some talk of the sea, and inevitably of Peto. Fairbrother was dismayed at the vehemence, still, with which Hervey spoke of Elizabeth’s intentions. Here, too, was a distortion of duty. He tried once more to moderate his friend’s opinion, but with not the least success.

The cutlets, with a very good Marsala sauce, provided a quarter of an hour’s respite (they spoke of what they might see at the theatre), but the savoury of smoked oysters somehow provoked mention of the court of inquiry. Another bottle of burgundy was brought.

A stew of apples partly restored Hervey’s spirits, so that he began speaking with evident pleasure of the invitation to dine with Kat, assuring Fairbrother that the evening was bound to be diverting, for Lady Katherine Greville presided at the most excellent of soirées.

It had become dark outside, but for the street lamps, though it was still warm, even balmy – like an early summer’s evening at the Cape. Hervey asked his friend if he would like port or more burgundy with his Stilton. Fairbrother chose port, and a bottle was decanted.

Hervey poured a little carelessly, so that he had to dab at the table cloth with his napkin. ‘Damned glass too small!’

‘Or the hand unsteady: I am glad you do not point a Cape rifle above my head!’

The Cape Riflemen practised by holding targets thus for their fellows to snipe. Hervey and Fairbrother had even practised the same.

‘Or a bow?’

Fairbrother smiled the more. There had been archery one afternoon at Walden (Kezia was a considerable proficient), at which neither of them had distinguished themselves. ‘Especially a bow!’

They dug into the Stilton with renewed appetite, replenishing their glasses, remarking on this or that, Hervey no longer so low in spirits. At length he put down his glass, and eyed his friend in some earnest. ‘You found Walden agreeable, did you not?’

Fairbrother was at once all attention. ‘Walden is, indeed, a most agreeable place.’

Hervey hesitated. ‘I mean, you found . . . you found my affianced . . . you approve of her?’

Fairbrother was troubled by the turn of conversation. ‘My dear fellow, what can possess you to ask me such a question?’

‘You have made no remark on it.’

Fairbrother was momentarily in some confusion: he had indeed made no remark; it was undeniable. ‘Would you expect me to?’ he asked in a tone of surprise, hoping thereby to throw his friend off any scent – false or otherwise. ‘Forgive me, Hervey, if I have not congratulated you.’

‘I would have been glad of your good opinion,’ Hervey said, a little unsteadily, the wine at length having its effect.

Fairbrother had perhaps drunk more, but he had begun the evening with his sensibility unimpaired. He sighed.

‘Why do you sigh?’

‘There is no good reason.’

‘Is there any reason?’

Fairbrother studied his friend intently. They had not known each other long in the usual measure of things, but the fellowship of the veld, the common cause against Xhosa and Zulu, made for the most singular bond between them. And if he was to be true to that bond, he must speak his mind now, for there would scarce be better opportunity.

‘My dear friend,’ he began, reluctantly, laying down his glass. ‘I have something to say which may at first give offence, but which yet I must say and trust that you will hear with every certainty that I say it only out of the very deepest affection for you.’

Hervey looked at him uncertainly. ‘Why indeed might I take offence?’

Fairbrother sighed again, trying manfully, however, to keep the sigh to himself. ‘Hear me, Hervey. I am your good friend. Were I to know there was another who could claim a better connection I should be glad to let him have the responsibility, but I do not. I believe I know your mind on a great many things, and I may say also your heart. I have observed you keenly these past weeks, and I observed Lady Lankester too . . .’

‘What is it you say? Come, man!’

‘It is perfectly clear to me that this marriage is ill conceived.’

Hervey made at once to protest, but Fairbrother held up a hand. ‘Hear me, Hervey. Do me the honour – nay, courtesy – of listening to my opinion, for you have sought it.’

Hervey sat back in his chair, his eyes narrowed.

‘For Lady Lankester I cannot speak, though I am equally sure of her feelings. For your part, I have not the slightest doubt that you will make of her a fine commanding officer’s wife, and the equal figure of a mother for your daughter—’

He lifted a hand again to stay another protest.

‘But in a few years’ time – perhaps more than a few, but it must be so eventually – you will meet another with whom your true feelings shall be engaged, and being the man you are you will be unable to act on them. But you will never be happy. Neither do I believe shall she.’

Hervey rose. ‘You forget yourself, sir!’ he said coldly.

Several heads turned, but Fairbrother took no notice.

‘I trust I do not. I trust I speak as a true friend.’

Hervey threw down his napkin. ‘You have not the slightest notion of what you speak!’