A Call To Arms (25 page)

They arrived near the far end of the table. ‘I shall leave you in the hands of Captain Hervey, then, Lady Katherine,’ said Colonel Warde, bowing again.

‘What a delightful prospect, Colonel,’ she replied, inclining her head slightly.

Colonel Warde bowed more formally. ‘Until later, Hervey.’

A footman held the chair for Lady Katherine as she sat, allowing just enough time for Hervey to introduce himself to the aide-de-camp seated on his left, a captain of foot guards. He turned again to his companion.

‘Colonel Warde seems most anxious that you speak together, Captain Hervey,’ said Lady Katherine. ‘You are evidently of some consequence.’

Hervey smiled. ‘Oh, I think not, Lady Katherine. I am a regimental officer.’

‘Indeed?’

Lady Katherine’s smile seemed fixed in a bemused, disbelieving fashion which Hervey was beginning to find slightly unnerving.

‘As a regimental officer, you could tell me what all this silver signifies.’

Hervey was relieved but still inclined to be guarded. ‘I confess I do not know it intimately, but the centrepiece was presented to the duke by the Portuguese a year or so ago. The ornament in the middle of it shows the four continents paying tribute to the united armies – of England, Portugal and Spain.’

‘It is quite magnificent, if perhaps rather severe for my taste.’

‘When I first saw it, in Paris, there was a chain of silk flowers linking those dancing figures about the base. It was then a little less formidable.’

Lady Katherine inclined her head as if to say she might have
further questions on the matter. ‘Colonel Warde tells me you are to go to India soon.’

‘Yes, madam. My regiment is posted to Bengal in two months’ time.’

‘And does this please you?’

‘Yes, yes it does please me. I was there three years ago, though in Madras, which is much further to the south, and for only a very few months.’

A footman leaned between them to serve a plate of soup.

‘My husband spent some time there, though he never speaks of it.’

‘I do not know your husband, Lady Katherine.’

‘Over there – Sir Peregrine Greville.’ She nodded to the other side of the table, further towards where the duke sat. ‘To Lady Combermere’s left, she in the blue.’

Hervey saw a general officer who looked twice Lady Katherine’s age. ‘Forgive me, madam, but what is your husband’s appointment?’

‘He is Governor of Alderney.’

‘Ah.’ Hervey was not a polished conversationalist – he knew all too well – but even so, this was an appointment that did not make for a ready reply.

‘
And
of Sark,’ added Lady Katherine, mischievously.

Hervey returned her smile involuntarily. Her eyes caught the candlelight and for an instant tempted him to some equally mischievous reply. He had had only the one glass of champagne, though, and he thanked God for it, too. ‘That must be very agreeable, madam. The climate, especially.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that, Captain Hervey. I visit there but very infrequently, and then only for a very short time.’

Hervey knew he was making a poor show of it, and the knowledge did not improve matters. ‘Your husband is not resident there, then?’

‘Indeed he is! This is one of his few returns. He says that since the war there is little to engage him from a military point of view, so he can indulge his passion, which is fishing. There is nothing he likes more than to spend the day in a little boat among lines and pots and I know not what.’

Sole, only half warm, had followed the soup, and then there was
partridge. And all the while Lady Katherine pressed Hervey to reveal his exploits in the war, explaining that her husband had nothing to tell her of but the toings and froings of ships past his islands. And all the while Hervey tried equally to deflect the conversation to something less sanguinary. The effort was so great that he ate little, sipped his wine perhaps too often, and was altogether relieved when at last the arrival of the sweet confections allowed the officer on Lady Katherine’s right to engage her attention, and him to seek relief with the ADC. However, the ADC was engrossed in conversation to his left, so Hervey instead occupied himself with a survey of the room.

They were thirty-four at table. Besides two or three junior officers such as him, there was an equal number of generals in their braid and ladies in their finery. Hervey mused that each in his or her own way had dressed to please or gain the attention of their host. There was no end of pleasing him, at the most exalted and the most personal levels alike. The fruits of victory at Waterloo were bountiful indeed. The gifts alone spoke volumes: the marble nude of Bonaparte from the Prince; the Portuguese service, a thousand pieces of silver and gilt; the Saxon service, finest Meissen; the Prussian service, Berlin green china, with its magnificent obelisk centrepiece depicting the duke’s orders and titles, perforce incomplete, for the honours still came; the Deccan service; the Egyptian service; paintings, furniture, statuary, porcelain of every description; field marshal’s batons of half a dozen nations and more. And many hundreds of thousands voted by parliament so that the duke might acquire a country seat, as Marlborough before him had acquired Blenheim. Hervey could scarcely believe that he himself had refused the duke what little he had to offer.

‘Do you enjoy your evening, Captain Hervey?’

He turned to the ADC and smiled. ‘Yes, I do, very much.’

‘Let us hope His Grace does, for he has been in high dudgeon these past three days.’

Hervey knew it was not a rare occurrence for the duke to be discomposed, but he had had no intimation of ill humour on arrival. Quite the opposite in fact. ‘Indeed? How so?’

‘Do you know what day it is?’

‘No.’

‘I think you must. The duke’s time in India?’

Now that he was given the hint, the answer came quickly enough. ‘The battle of Assaye.’

‘Just so. The duke had invited Sir John Vandeleur to be guest of honour, as colonel of the Nineteenth Light Dragoons, whose victory it was, in large part. But he declined in protest of the disbandments.’

Hervey was intrigued. He had heard that the Twenty-first were to disband – the Twentieth had gone already – but nothing more. In any case, the Nineteenth, the heroes of Assaye, had only lately become lancers – with the Sixteenth, the first in the King’s service. ‘I am very sorry for it, on all accounts.’ There were evidently other men, then, who were not disposed to obliging the duke in every particular.

‘Indeed. So we must hope that the ladies are sufficiently diverting this evening.’

Hervey glanced up and down the table. ‘For the main part, I should say there is no doubt of it!’

The ADC smiled and nodded while tucking into a cheesecake with surprising gusto after all that had gone before. ‘Lady Katherine is engaging company,’ he suggested between mouthfuls.

‘Yes, yes,’ said Hervey, a little unsure. ‘We have had plenty of conversation.’

‘She greatly enjoys company when she rides every day.’

Hervey heard the suspicion of a warning, but before he could press the ADC to more, Lady Katherine turned again to him. ‘We ladies are being bidden to retire. Will you attend upon my husband and me afterwards, Captain Hervey – when, that is, Colonel Warde has done with you?’

‘With great pleasure, madam.’ He rose as a footman drew back her chair.

She smiled warmly at him. ‘Until later, then.’

Hervey turned back to the ADC, but that officer was already moving to attend on the duke, as, it seemed, was the officer who had been on Lady Katherine’s right. So he himself closed further towards the middle of the table, to begin an interesting discourse with a peer, whose name he did not catch, about the prospects of reform. But soon the several conversations deferred to the duke’s, in which he expressed himself glad to see so many of rank and distinction at his table, that he considered it a worthy ‘inauguration’
of his new dining room, and that he intended hereupon to hold a banquet each year in commemoration of the battle of Waterloo.

The unreforming peer on Hervey’s right evidently wanted some association with Waterloo too, if only in conversation (for he did not have the look of one who had ever served). But he sadly misjudged his subject. ‘Did you have a good view of the battle, Duke?’

The duke’s benevolent smile turned at once to a look like an angered hawk. Hervey felt himself trying to lean as far away from his neighbour as he could.

‘I generally like to see what I am about,’ came the icy reply.

It fair chilled the company. Hervey did not relish an encounter with the duke in such a humour.

The day was saved by the only man at the table who could do so. ‘And thank the great God that you do see what you are about, Duke, for I am in no doubt England would not have triumphed without you!’

The great man turned to his right. ‘Thank you, Bathurst.’ He said it gravely rather than with any surprise or gratitude. He had heard as much many times.

Earl Bathurst, Secretary for War and the Colonies for the past seven years, had been raised in Apsley House, indeed had sold it to the duke’s elder brother, but it was not the time to make any reference to it. ‘And we thank you for your magnificent hospitality this evening.’

There were tentative ‘hear, hears’ from around the table.

The duke nodded. Then he rose suddenly. The gentlemen were to rejoin the ladies, and sooner than both had expected.

In the drawing room, Hervey refused any more wine and began to contemplate instead his opportunity to take leave. Colonel Warde had not sought him out, and he had just judged the moment right to approach the duke; but to his considerable surprise he saw Lord Combermere himself striding across the room towards him.

‘Captain Hervey, I fear I did not recognize you at first. It is a long time since that day at Toulouse, and indeed Paris. Do you recall?’

Hervey smiled broadly at the recognition, and at Combermere’s engaging humility. ‘Indeed I do, sir. Of course I do!’

‘You’re back with the Sixth, I gather?’

‘Yes, sir.’ He presumed ‘back’ referred to the assignment in India.

‘Lankester’s a good man. The Towcester business – dreadful, quite dreadful.’

Hervey was astonished that Combermere should know of it, but he had not time to reply before a hand grasped the general’s arm. ‘What do you say to this officer, Combermere? He refuses an order.’

Combermere threw his head back. ‘Hah! I should think he has very good cause, Duke!’

Hervey felt the same hawklike gaze on him as he had seen at table.

‘That is just as I told my secretary. I shall say good night then, Hervey. I wish you fortune in the east.’ He turned again to his former commander of cavalry. ‘A word with you, Combermere, before Bathurst leaves.’

‘Of course, Duke,’ said Lord Combermere, and then, holding out his hand, ‘Good fortune to you, Hervey!’

When they had turned, Hervey placed his coffee cup on a side table and made to leave, but he felt a tap on his shoulder.

‘You did not keep your word, Captain Hervey.’

He turned to find Lady Katherine. ‘Oh … I am sorry, madam. We were overlong in the dining room, I fear. I was about to leave.’

‘You do not have to leave London this minute, do you?’

‘No, madam, but it has been a long day, and—’

‘Of course. I would not detain you, Captain Hervey. I know how hard is an officer’s day in service. Why do not you accompany me in the park tomorrow? I ride most days there. You will find it most invigorating.’

‘I . . I did not bring a horse, Lady Katherine.’

‘Then I can certainly provide you with one. Where are you staying?’

Hervey saw there was no way out of it save by the severest measures. But Lady Katherine’s eyes twinkled very appealingly, and her face had a most tempting blush. ‘The United Service Club, ma’am.’

‘I shall have one of my grooms there at eleven, Captain Hervey. And you shall join me for luncheon afterwards. Oh, and you must call me
Kat
.’

*

Hervey did not sleep well that night. His pleasure in Lady Katherine’s eyes, her entire form indeed, was intense, for they were charms which even prodigious effort could not have ignored. And then in the middle hours, when the wine had begun to lose its effect, he had been visited by remorse in succumbing to her attractions. Repose came only after four, but he was woken as arranged at seven, whereupon he rose and penned a letter to Lady Katherine explaining that duty would prevent his keeping their luncheon appointment (he considered that riding in the park need have no improper tendency), and craving that she would forgive him. He called a steward to have an express boy run with the letter to Holland Park, then he shaved and ate breakfast before walking to Mr Hatchard’s bookshop in Piccadilly to buy the new edition of Clator’s
Farriery
. He was greatly discomposed when he learned that it would cost him twelve shillings, and he returned to his club, to meet Lady Katherine’s groom, in even poorer spirits than in which he had left.

When he took the post to Tilbury that evening he thanked God that his duty called him away, for such had been his pleasure in Lady Katherine Greville’s company in the park that he was glad of not being put further to the test. She had, however, extracted a promise from him to write to her with a description of Calcutta, and that, he now saw, was indeed a perilous pledge.