Words of Command (Hervey 12) (Matthew Hervey) (17 page)

The hand of the remaining letter was less familiar, but recognizable enough, and he hesitated before breaking the distinctive seal, certain of finding mischief – if of the most artful kind:

Dover-street,
26th January

My dear Colonel Hervey
,

I thank you for your letter of the twentieth inst. I hope to have opportunity ere long to question you on its contents, for there is much that is of interest to me to which you rightly allude. You will have received the ambassador’s invitation to the levee on the twenty-fourth of next month, but there will scarce be opportunity on that occasion to speak frankly, and I would beg that you call upon me at an earlier date. Furthermore I am to give a supper, very small, on Thursday seven days for Lady Katherine Greville, who returns to London, and were you able to attend I should deem it a great favour.

I remain your most humble servant
,

Dorothea Lieven

Hervey’s stomach tightened as if before an affair of the sword: Lady Katherine Greville returned to London. If, as the letter implied, it was her first return, then she could not have been at Holland Park in … eighteen months – twenty perhaps (he had lost count). Why now did she come? Did she know of his own return? Surely not so soon. But why not: the posts to Ireland, now that there was steam, were but a couple of days … And there was no mention of Sir Peregrine. Would Princess Lieven’s party be for both of them if he were returned too? She could not know the truth, surely? Kat had vowed she would tell no one, not even her sister. And yet what had he expected – that she would remain in that savage place for ever, and Sir Peregrine on Alderney, an absentee ‘father’, just as he’d been an absentee husband? But what did she mean by returning now? And what did the princess mean by this invitation? He could not of course accept. It was insupportable. He could not make Kat’s reacquaintance in a drawing room – if he could make her reacquaintance at all. Not now that … Except, in point of fact, he did not know what was her precise situation.

He sat back in his chair, unable quite to see straight, until at last the words came to him – a duke’s words again, but this time Marlborough’s: ‘No war can ever be conducted without good and early intelligence.’ He could scarcely compare his predicament with war, though it might prostrate him just as finally. But so much depended on knowing Kat’s situation; and that of her husband. This latter he could discover easily enough, and with discretion. It was merely a matter of consulting the pages of the
London Gazette
, beginning with the most recent edition, until it was found what appointment Lieutenant-General Sir Peregrine Greville now held. No, it was not even as cumbrous a business as that: all he would need to consult were the
Gazette
s as far back as the beginning of the year past, when he had left for the Levant, when he knew Sir Peregrine to be lieutenant-governor of Alderney and Sark. He could even avoid the tediousness of that, he supposed, by asking his friend at the Horse Guards, Lord John Howard: he would know at once the appointment of every general not on the half-pay … But it would be shameful to ask such a thing while concealing his purpose. Which was also true of his clerks, for why should they occupy themselves with such work, for the benefit not of the service but of himself (and he had equilibrium enough, still, to discern the difference). No, he must read for himself.

How to discover Kat’s situation, though? And even then, after he had acquired his ‘good and early intelligence’, what was he to do?

But that, however, he could with advantage put from his mind for the time being, for it entirely depended on the precise nature of the intelligence.

He could – must – however write to Princess Lieven declining the invitation. On what pretext he was uncertain – and pretext there must be, to allay suspicion (if the princess were disposed towards suspicion, which he thought she was). Perhaps it might not be too early for him to travel to Wiltshire instead? He must in any case thank her for the present of the silver, and assure her also that he would call to elaborate on his letter – his report of what he saw of her countrymen in the war in the east – at an early date. Beyond that he felt obliged to write nothing more; indeed he thought it imperative to write nothing out of the ordinary that might suggest the least disquiet. He took another glass of claret, then looked in his writing case for the piece of paper on which he had written his intelligence of Princess Lieven before their first meeting a year ago:

Dorothea (Darja) Christorovna Benckendorff. Born 17 December 1785, Riga. Father genl of inf, mil commandt Riga. (Branch of family of Markgrafschaft of Brandenburg had settled in Esthonia and entered Russian svce). Genl Benckendorff m. Baroness Charlotte Schilling of Cannstadt, confidante of Princess Maria of Wirtemberg, who afterwards became wife of Tsar Paul I. On Charlotte B’s death (1797) 4 children commended to Tsarina’s care. M. (at 14) Maj-genl Count Christopher von Lieven (25 yrs) in Russian svc. L. promoted lieut-genl 1807. 1809 L. represented Tsar at Prussian court. When B.parte prepared to invade Russia, L. appointed to London. Received title Prince 1826 when mother created first Princess of Lieven.

These were the material facts, to which might be added the rumour – scandalous, scurrilous, perhaps unfounded (who knew but the other subjects of the rumour?). Her lovers numbered, it was said, Count Metternich, Prince Nesselrode, François Guizot, His Majesty the King, Lord Palmerston, and even the Duke himself. Could any woman be so assiduous? It was one thing – like Kat – to have an aged and distant husband who showed neither interest nor capability, and to seek instead the consolation of the arms of a man more attentive (of whatever age); but it was surely fanciful to imagine seduction (if that word were appropriate) on the basis of system. She was certainly handsome – now, even at forty-four (though that was unremarkable, for Kat was but a few years her junior) – and at the Congress of Vienna, when her star shone irresistibly bright, she must have appeared as the Medici Venus; if bosomless. He half wished he had never met her (but only half, for he had found her hospitality at Dover Street agreeable and profitable, and his mission in the Levant had undoubtedly been made easier by her ‘meddling’). What was it that she wanted from him? It was well known that her paramount interest was the well-being of Russia – the wellbeing exactly as perceived by the Tsar. But he, Hervey, had done all that he might in this cause (not that this had been his intention, rather the result of circumstance). What use could he be now that he was returned to England? He possessed few advantages, beyond the ineffable delight of commanding a regiment of cavalry.

He sighed, took another sheet of paper, opened the inkwell and dipped in his pen.

‘You asked me to ’ave a bath drawn for you at seven o’clock, sir,’ said Corporal Johnson, who had come into the room without his noticing. ‘I mean, “Colonel”.’

Hervey was just dripping wax onto his letter – trying with particular precision for a neat seal, addressed as it was to so high a personage as the ambassadress of the
Imperator
of All the Russias. ‘Thank you, Corp’l Johnson. I had no notion of the time. Rather a bagful of papers. Has Mr Fairbrother left?’

‘Aye, sir – Colonel. ’E said ’e wanted to catch the coach at ’alf past six.’

‘Did he say what time he would return?’

‘No ’e didn’t.’

Hervey pressed his stamp into the wax, but left it a fraction late, so that too much came away as he lifted it. ‘Damn!’ He picked up the stick to begin again. ‘What was it he said he was to see?’

‘
Robert the Devil
.’

‘I never heard of it. Where did he say it was?’

‘T’Theatre Royal.’

‘Which one?’

‘I didn’t know as there was more than one. ’E didn’t say. But ’e did say it were in Covent Garden.’

‘Ah.’

‘Is that good, then, sir – Colonel?’

‘The Theatre Royal in Covent Garden? Why yes.’

‘Cap’n Fairbrother said ’e knew some of the actresses.’

Hervey dripped wax on the edge of the letter. ‘Damn!’

‘You mean ’e doesn’t?’

‘No,’ said Hervey, shaking his head resignedly. ‘I mean that this wax has a malign tendency.’

‘Oh.’

But it might not have had if its handler had been less put out by the discovery of his friend’s assignation. He could hardly begrudge him the company of a pretty girl, though, no matter how painted she was.

He pressed his stamp into the new seal, and this time removed it clean to make a good impression. ‘Capital,’ he said, taking up the penknife to remove the excess wax.

‘That’s what I thought, Colonel. I thought “what a nice thing for Captain Fairbrother to go by ’imself to London”.’

‘No, I didn’t mean that I thought it was a nice thing – though I do – I was referring … It is of no moment. Would you hand me the boot jack?’

Johnson set it up for him, and fetched the slippers from his dressing room, talking the while. ‘That were a good thing that Serjeant-Major Collins did this morning, weren’t it?’

‘Discovering their hiding place, you mean?’ replied Hervey, pulling off a boot with a deal of straining. ‘You should have seen it. B Troop did uncommonly well.’

‘No – I mean stopping Mr Kennett shooting the man as was getting away.’

‘But he didn’t. Mr Kennett fired into the ground to force the man to come out of the hedge.’

Johnson raised an eyebrow.

In the many years – twenty and more – of their happy connection, Hervey had become finely attuned to the various expressions of (rendered verbally) ‘please yourself’. ‘What?’

‘I’ve ’eard different.’

‘How different? And from whom?’

‘Wouldn’t be right to say from who, Colonel.’

Hervey was of a mind to acquaint him with the Mutiny Act, in which, as far as he recalled, there were no provisions for anonymity. But he had to concede that in this first instance of the unique privilege (and benefit) of his groom’s being able to impart intelligence direct from the barrack room to the commanding officer, it did not do to stand on the letter of the law. ‘Very well,’ he said, with just enough testiness to make his point. ‘What is it you’ve learned different?’

Johnson handed him the slippers and picked up the second boot. ‘Mr Kennett was intent on shooting the man, and the serjeant-major knocked ’is pistol down with ’is sword, and that’s when it went off.’

Hervey’s brow furrowed. ‘Was it, indeed.’

‘Saved ’im a deal o’ trouble, I’d think, the serjeant-major did.’

Hervey looked at him intently. ‘You’re assured of this?’

‘I ’eard it from one as saw it, an’ ’e told me there was somebody else who’d seen it, an’ I went an’ asked ’em, an’ they said t’same an’ all.’

‘Mm. Well, well. How general is this knowledge?’

Johnson looked at him as much as to ask what knowledge was not general in the canteen.

‘Quite,’ said Hervey. But then, suddenly cautious, ‘You weren’t told this on the understanding that it would be passed to me?’ Useful as the intelligence was, it wouldn’t do for there to be a ‘speaking pipe’ from canteen to commanding officer. That way all discipline would be up-ended – and, indeed, the reliability of the intelligence would diminish.

‘No, Colonel. It came out matter o’ fact. An’ none of ’em’ll ever know what I says to you.’

Hervey felt rather chastened. ‘No, of course not. I hadn’t meant to suggest … But a difficult thing, discerning the aim of a pistol, unless you’re looking straight into it.’

But this was something Johnson didn’t feel obliged to give opinion on. ‘I’ve laid out yer towelling, Colonel,’ he replied, nodding to the dressing room.

Hervey sighed to himself. ‘Thank you. Would you ask the innkeeper to send up my dinner in one hour?’

At office the following morning, Hervey pondered once more on the veterinary returns, and at length called Malet in.

‘I think I shall make a formal inspection of Tyrwhitt’s stables tomorrow.’

‘Very well, Colonel,’ replied the adjutant, writing in his order book. ‘Tyrwhitt’s especially?’

‘I want to see what is the general state of things, and Tyrwhitt’s is the senior troop.’

‘Very good, Colonel.’

Hervey nodded, pleased to have resolved on a clear course of action. ‘By the bye, have you warned Vanneck for Brussels yet?’

‘I have, Colonel – on the day you instructed me to.’

‘Ah.’

‘Do you wish to rescind the warning?’

Hervey hesitated. ‘I don’t much care of warning for such a thing and then reversing the decision, especially for something that I imagine will be pleasing to all, but I had thought last night to send Worsley’s troop instead. But it is done now, and should stand.’

‘Is there anything else, Colonel?’

Again Hervey thought for a moment. ‘I ought rightly to have told you this on the morning I took command, though I believe I said that it was no use your being adjutant unless you know my mind, and that you may speak yours.’

‘You did, Colonel.’

‘But I must have you know – must have you perfectly understand – that we speak with absolute candour.’