Man of War by Allan Mallinson

Author:Allan Mallinson [Mallinson, Allan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction
ISBN: 9780593053423
Amazon: B003IQ168S
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 2006-12-31T11:00:00+00:00

XII

A MARRIAGE KNOT

Hertfordshire, 2 May 1828

‘Hervey, I am ever more delighted by your English countryside,’ declared Fairbrother, looking out of the chaise window at the rippling fields of barley. ‘I did not think I should see scenes more pleasing to the eye than those from the Rochester mail, and yet in whichever direction we travel there are prospects to rival those before. And such houses!’

‘It is a green and pleasant land.’

Hervey still sounded . . . distracted, despite the conversation of several hours. Fairbrother thought he would tempt him one last time. ‘The house of your affianced’s people is, I imagine, a handsome one?’

Hervey too was gazing from the window, but not at the country. ‘It is.’

Fairbrother sighed. ‘You are still at Hounslow, I suppose.’

Hervey turned to him. ‘I should have remained with them. At least until Lord Holderness was entirely fit. You saw him: he was not himself.’

Fairbrother had indeed seen him: he looked like a spectre. ‘But the surgeon said he was recovered from the seizure, and you yourself said that the adjutant and the captains were perfectly able to carry on.’

‘So they are.’

‘And the manoeuvres were declared complete.’

So they had been. And Hervey had been as glad of it as he had been surprised. But, as the general had pronounced, the regiment had demonstrated its capability in spectacular measure, and his recognition of it was an early return to barracks. ‘Indeed.’

Fairbrother sighed again, this time audibly. ‘You know, Hervey – I will say it once more – I am at a loss to understand your thoughts in the matter. You concealed the colonel’s indisposition most effectively, and that, I acknowledge, was an admirable instinct, but if in doing so you deny yourself the laurels which are rightfully yours, and a man who is incapable, however fine a fellow he is, remains in his place – and mistake me not: Lord Holderness is the finest of men – how does that serve? How does it serve the regiment? How does it serve the King?’

It was indeed old ground over which Fairbrother picked, and Hervey was no more moved by it than before. ‘You make the case compellingly, except that you discount the injury that would be done when it were known, both inside and out, that a regiment had not remained true to its colonel. I do not wish to debate with you the theoretical limits of loyalty, my friend’ (no, indeed: there was a rawness to that particular wound still – the affair of Lord Towcester) ‘for if we do not admit it to be absolute, then there is no foundation to discipline but the lash.’

Fairbrother was momentarily distracted by the distant sight of rooks harrying a kite, which somehow seemed apt. He turned back to his friend. ‘The lash? What? See, Hervey – and then I will speak no more of it, for the time being at least: it matters only in part that you succeed in preserving Lord Holderness’s reputation with the general; there will not be a man in the regiment who is not speaking of what happened that night.

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