06 A Soldier’s Farewell (Man of Conflict #6)

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06 A Soldier’s Farewell (Man of Conflict #6) Page 6

by Andrew Wareham


  Septimus told his father-in-law the tale, expressing his distaste for the whole affair.

  “Instead of breaking the man as a disgusting beast who has no business in the company of gentlemen, I had to connive at his promotion, sir!”

  Squire Osborne was shocked, yet agreed that such doings must be hushed – there was never a gain to creating scandal, he believed.

  Later in the day Septimus asked his brother George whether he knew the name Arrowsmith.

  “Very big in cotton, Septimus. One of the first to operate machinery in great mills, and wealthy beyond ordinary measure. Certainly worth millions.”

  “Then it is as well that I did not offend him, I suspect.”

  George listened and grimaced.

  “Unpleasant, but you were well-advised to take that action. The man will be delighted that you have made his son a major. You may well find him making contact to express his thanks… Probably, in fact, he will speak to me first, as being his sort of person. By the way, Mr Longhurst, young Longhurst’s father, has kept in with me and we have conducted more than one piece of business together. Very profitably so – he is a good one to know!”

  “His son is a lieutenant on a general’s staff now, and will be captain very soon. He has a safe career in front of him.”

  “Excellent! What of you, Septimus?”

  “Damned if I know, George. The war in New England never amounted to much – which must be seen as a good thing, I suspect – but it hardly allowed for glory and laurel wreaths!”

  Having travelled to London, Septimus discovered that Horse Guards did not agree with that sentiment. They knew very little of Nova Scotia, and that small amount from maps.

  “This New Ireland, or Maine, as some call it, seems a very substantial piece of country, Sir Septimus.”

  “Wild, and not a source of wealth, sir. Mountains and rivers and great forests, but a rich sea-coast, I believe. Not a vast population, but room for many more to settle, no doubt. The people were of the state of Massachusetts, but separate from it and wanting to be their own masters. They would not be pleased to be made part of Canada, or to be declared independent even, but they have no desire at all to go to war with us.”

  “A useful bargaining card, would you say, Sir Septimus?”

  “We could certainly use it as such, sir. I am not entirely certain that Washington would wish to negotiate, however. The Americans do not see things as we do – it is this charade of democracy that affects their minds, I believe.”

  “Strange folk, certainly. However, I am informed that you did a fine and almost bloodless job of conquest, Sir Septimus. Some mention of brigands is all.”

  “Little more than land pirates, sir. Villains with no loyalty or notion of decency – their crimes against the poor settlers are not to be detailed in civilised surroundings, sir. As bad as Spain!”

  “Then you did very well to extirpate them, Sir Septimus. The Duke of York wishes to speak with you, sir.”

  Septimus made his very best bow and was greeted with affectionate respect by the Duke.

  “I have had my eye on you these several years, Sir Septimus. I knew you would do well in Nova Scotia, sir! Never unwilling to bloody your sword in battle, but not one to revel in butchery. The best of soldiers!”

  Septimus made his thanks.

  “Now, there is a problem which is tailor-made for you, Sir Septimus. The end of the war has led to the creation of a Dutch-Belgian state, its monarch of the House of Orange. In truth, the captured province of Belgium has been given to the Dutch. The Belgians don’t like it, and the Dutch seem to regard them as a conquered prize. They ain’t working well together, shall we say. They have an army, made up of both sorts, and almost all of them once fighting for Bonaparte. They might have loyalties, you could say, but they almost certainly ain’t to this Dutch-Belgian monarchy!”

  Septimus did not envy the general given command of such an army.

  “I want you, Sir Septimus, to take a brigade of these horrible objects and turn them into soldiers.”

  “A brigade, Your Grace?”

  “Three battalions of foot, a small regiment of dragoons, two batteries of horse-artillery. All of the necessary train. To be garrisoned very close to the French border, on the sea, and to be a forerunner of any invasion, if the war starts again, or, of course, a first bastion of defence. You would have in effect an independent command, not part of any Division. Well, sir?”

  Septimus was slightly dismayed, but, thinking on the matter, he would like to command his own, distinct brigade, to have a degree of freedom to organise things as they should be in a properly-run army. He might, as well, have the chance of commanding a small battle, and doing it right.

  “You honour me, Your Grace. I shall be pleased to accept such a command.”

  “Thought you would! Do the job the way it should be done, eh?”

  “The way I have often thought would be best, certainly, sir. I have no French, Your Grace. I must recruit staff who have the language… I am sorry, Your Grace, that is my problem to solve, not yours.”

  “Six weeks to do so, Sir Septimus. I want you in Belgium by the New Year. I am one of those who do not believe that Boney should have been sent to Elba. Too close to his old haunts!”

  “You may well be right, Your Grace. From Emperor to princeling on a little island – a hard come-down.”

  “Too hard, I much fear. We shall see. You, Sir Septimus, need the rank and authority to bolster your name. Lord Pearce of Where?”

  Septimus did his very best to seem unmoved, to take the great honour in his stride.

  “Not Micheldever, Your Grace, that I believe is taken as a lordship. The nearest village is Dummer, which is not a name I much fancy.”

  There was a quiet laugh from the assorted hangers on.

  “Waltham is the next village, and has a pleasantly rural ring to it, I think. Lord Pearce of Waltham will do me well, Your Grace.”

  “It will be published in the next Gazette, for distinguished military services in the Sugar Islands, India, Denmark and America – but leaving out Spain, I think!”

  The laugh was a little louder this time.

  “There will be a levee, two weeks on Tuesday, Lord Pearce. I shall be very pleased to greet you there.”

  It was a command and Septimus bowed.

  He was kept the rest of that day at Horse Guards, suffering the interrogation of any number of functionaries who had oversight of his expenditure in the previous two years.

  He had signed Bills of Exchange to the tune of several thousands of pounds during his time in America. Each was now subject to investigation.

  ‘He had purchased six hundred bushels of wheat and five hundred trusses of wheat straw – for what purpose?’

  It took an hour to prove that the garrison had been short of flour due to a granary roof failing under the weight of winter’s snow, and that he had had to purchase anew. The straw had been used to insulate the walls of a particularly decrepit barracks, the men otherwise freezing overnight.

  “Furs, Lord Pearce, bear and wolf and beaver and buffalo pelts and hides. To sew five hundred of coats! I had not known that we equipped our soldiers with fur coats, my lord! Perhaps they were to join a fashionable parade?”

  The sarcasm was unsubtle; Septimus smiled in his appreciation of the stroke of wit, for he could not call the man out and must not beat him to the floor.

  “In mid-winter, sir, there was three feet of ice on the river and the whole harbour was closed by pack ice. In another regiment, a sentry was put on the walls and his relief found him frozen rigid in his greatcoat after thirty minutes. Dead, sir, a healthy young soldier. My sentries remained warm, sir, and lived.”

  They argued and reluctantly conceded that and a dozen other points, but it was a wearisome day.

  At the end of the tedium he set off to Whites, to be seen, and then to Scott, the tailor.

  “Sir Septimus, you are returned from the Americas, sir.”

  “I am
indeed, but not as Sir Septimus. Am I actually ahead of you in my news, sir?”

  “You are indeed – I must presume Lord Pearce?”

  “Lord Pearce of Waltham, a small place in Hampshire, close to my home. I am to attend a levee in two weeks, Mr Scott. I am as well appointed to a Dutch-Belgic brigade on the French border. What should my tailoring be, sir?”

  “Allowing my man to check your measurements again, my lord, you may leave all in my hands. A brigade on the French frontier, you say, my lord?”

  “Newly raised troops; in the nature of things in fact, veterans of Bonaparte’s wars. I much suspect I am given them in the hope of slowing any invasion consequent on the Corsican leaving Elba.”

  “A probable event, it might seem, my lord.”

  “I am told so, Mr Scott.”

  “Your Colonel Perceval and Major Taft have done very well in Spain, my lord. The regiment has kept its good name and has shown well in His Grace of Wellington’s battles. I must imagine, my lord, that you will wish to recruit to your military family.”

  “It is essential, I have but one lieutenant – a very pleasing young man with a future as a soldier - but I need others of course. Men who have seen war and wish to make a career would be best. Very useful indeed would be those who have a smattering of French or Dutch – for I have neither language.”

  “You will be in Town for the levee, of course, my lord.”

  “And for a few days before and after would be sensible.”

  “It would indeed. At your hotel, I presume, my lord?”

  “As ever, Mr Scott.”

  Septimus made his way back to the Dorchester, knowing that the word would be passed and that there would be applications to join his family when he returned to Town. He ordered his dinner before going to his room.

  “Certainly, Sir Septimus.”

  “No, I am sorry, I should have mentioned. I am become Lord Pearce of Waltham as of today, rather to my surprise!”

  It was very pleasant, Septimus thought, to revel in his new glory. He would be permitted to do so for a day or two; thereafter he must avoid vulgar display.

  “Post chaise for the morning, please. I must return home but will be back to attend the levee in a fortnight. From the Saturday, perhaps, and for three days afterwards.”

  “Certainly, my lord.”

  There would be some disparaging comments, he knew, referring to merchant’s sons rubbing shoulders with their betters, but they would rarely be made to his face, and there were families who had an affection for him and would come to his support.

  A long day on the road, slowed by rain that forced him to overnight a few miles north of Micheldever, unable to make the final stage. He arrived at ten in the morning, Atkins trotting off to the quarters big with his news.

  “Good morning, ma’am!”

  “What is it, sir? What have you done? I see that expression on your face!”

  “I am made Lord Pearce of Waltham, my dear. First Baron! Services as a soldier, and all of the rest. We should send a note to brother George and then to your parents – Peter can ride in. We shall visit tomorrow, of course, but they must know as soon as possible.”

  She was delighted – in one stroke she had risen to almost the head of society in the County, the children with her.

  “Sarah is eleven now, husband! She must learn to comport herself as befits the eldest daughter of a baron. She will dance in the Season! Jack is eight, of course, and is young still, but he must be taught his own worth. As for George and Henry – if they are to be soldiers, then it will be in the best of regiments!”

  “And Rachel?”

  “Is our ward and daughter, as ever she was, sir. And if she should become close to one of the boys, I see no problem at all, even if her birth is that of a merchant – for, when all is said and done, so was ours!”

  “Well said, ma’am! A celebration of sorts, I think?”

  “There is to be a goose for dinner, and we might find a bottle from the cellar… though I really do not know what we shall discover there.”

  “I must do something about that, my dear. The County will come to visit over the next few days, responding to the honour done me, and we must offer refreshment. Another message to George – he will at least know the best wine merchant in Winchester and can give him his orders.”

  The butler had been sent to the town house in Winchester, to bring the people who had taken the lease a little of dignity. In his absence, the housekeeper was flustered, was unsure what she must do.

  “A new man, quickly. Mr Portland may stay in Winchester and we shall set on a second butler here.”

  “Old Mr Foulsham died three weeks last Thursday, sir, and the house is to be sold, with its little bit of land. His butler, Jukes, must be seeking a place, sir. No more than forty, sir, and probably set to become no more nor a footman, if he be so lucky as to find anything at all, sir.”

  Foulsham was a younger son who had lived in a small way on a sufficient inheritance and house left by his mother. He had no family of his own, no natural successor for the servants to turn to.

  “Can Alfred walk across with the message to Jukes, do you think?”

  “Not more than a mile, he can indeed, sir, my lord, that is!”

  Septimus turned back to his lady, smiled apologetically.

  “I forgot to say that we are bidden to the levee, two weeks on Tuesday. And I am to become a brigadier, without a divisional commander, on the French border with Belgium in the New Year. A message to Rowlands that he is to come with me, of course, and we must lay our hands on more good men. I could wish that I had not left Longhurst in America, but one must do one’s best and that as seems most favourable at the time.”

  “Are we to come with you, husband?”

  “Not at first, for there is the chance that the Belgians will be unsettled, having been given to Dutch masters for whom they have no love. The Duke of York thinks Boney will be up again soon, as well, says it was unwise to send him to exile so close to France.”

  “What should have been done, sir?”

  “The rope, my dear. If an excuse had been needed, then the murder of the Duc D’Enghien would have served. There were other reasons that could have been adduced as well, but that was a well-known and certain killing of an innocent civilian.”

  “Is it wise to kill a deposed Prince, husband?”

  Septimus laughed, said that he was no judge of wisdom, but in his opinion, a dead Emperor was far less a threat than a live one.

  “Let us inform the children of their new glory. Will Miss Lonsdale permit an interruption?”

  The governess was a stern taskmaster, demanding that the children perform their lessons five days a week and for six hours a day – habits of industry being, she said, more important than actual learning.

  “In the circumstances, I am sure she will, husband.”

  Miss Lonsdale was delighted to do so in fact. If ever she was forced to seek another post, for lack of a female charge of an age, then the governess to a lord was far better placed than one who served a baronet.

  Lord and lady left the schoolroom, leaving much speculation behind them.

  Sarah required to know the precise significance of her father’s ennoblement.

  “He is now a lord, ma’am, a baron. Mama is thus a baroness. What am I, ma’am?”

  “The Honourable Miss Pearce, eldest daughter to the baron.” Miss Lonsdale informed her. “Honourable is never actually spoken, but you use it when signing your name and it should appear on letters addressed to you.”

  “Ah! And what are Jack and George and Henry, ma’am?”

  “The Honourable Mr Pearce, to show he is eldest, the Honourable Mr George Pearce and the Honourable Mr Henry Pearce as befits younger sons.”

  “I see. I must not forget the distinctions. Would they ever change, ma’am?”

  “Should Lord Pearce ever become an earl, then it is Lord or Lady in place of Honourable, and those titles are used in speech. Your eldest brot
her would be addressed by the title of the barony, the junior honour.”

  “I should like to be a Lady. How does Papa become an Earl, ma’am?”

  “He might become Prime Minister, and be made earl on his retirement. More likely is that as a general, he should win a very large battle.”

  “Yet the monster Bonaparte has been overthrown, ma’am, and there are none left to fight. A pity! I must be content to be an Honourable!”

  Miss Lonsdale made no comment on that, merely hoping that she might be.

  The Lord Lieutenant paid them a call and congratulated Septimus on his so merited enlargement; Mr Longhurst came and said it was a bloody good thing. The great bulk of the County made their morning visits as well, the few exceptions almost all occasioned by ill-health.

  “Excellent, husband, the sole significant absentee is Lady Maria Edgeworth, second daughter to the Marquis and the highest of sticklers. It is said that she never addresses any person below the rank of viscount, and never pays morning calls on anyone short of an earl. She is regarded with slight affection in the County, so my father informs me.”

  “Then we are accepted, it would seem, my lady.”

  “Almost entirely, my lord! However, having risen so high, we must still find there are those who are higher, who we shall never match, but I am more than content, sir. I did not dream so much to be possible.”

  “Nor me. The Army has been good to me – it has changed me and made me far more than ever I was as a boy. I wonder whether it would have done so had I joined in peace? It sounds – what shall I say, impious? Let us just say somewhat perverse, for I am no man of piety, that the horrors of war have made me the figure I am – successful, well off and honoured, while peace would have left me an unknown. One final military task, I believe, my lady, this brigade to make into a success, and then to find an occupation for my peaceful years. There must be ten thousand officers facing that prospect, you know, Marianne. Men in their thirties who have known nothing other than war for twenty years – what are they to do with the rest of their lives?”

 

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