Close to the Colours (105th Foot. The Prince of Wales Own Wessex Regimen Book 2)

by Martin McDowell

  “Thur! That’s plenty. An’ I expects to see a special shine on that bloody short-arse bundook that thee thinks so much of!”

  Miles looked daggers at Deakin. His Baker was ten inches shorter that the standard musket, but he would stand no criticism of him nor anything of his. His voice rose petulantly.

  “That’s as maybe, but I can hit more with this than you can with that broomstick you carries!”

  Deakin scowled back

  “Ah, shut thee gob an’ get on with that polishin’.”

  He craned his neck up.

  “Seems to me that you’ve let that rifle get into none too good a state!”

  Miles flared up and would have stood up, had Davey not passed him his own mug containing a good measure of rum.

  “Here, have a drink! He’s prodding of you.”

  Davey smiled good naturedly over at Deakin, before returning to the affairs of his own rifle.

  “What’d you expect from a Sergeant?”

  Deakin growled something but the tension had passed. Mary looked over at Bridie, mending the hole in a child’s shirt, one from a French drummerboy at Vimeiro.

  “Bridie, how’s your foot?”

  Bridie looked up.

  “Oh fine, 'tis fine. The pitch’ve dropped off. Look, I’ll show you.”

  She leaned back and brought her bare foot up onto the table. The gap from the missing centre toe stood out like that from a missing tooth, as all stopped their work to make an examination. Byford, somewhat more constructively, leaned over to examine the stump. First he nodded his head.

  “Hmmm. Thoroughly healed! All thanks to our sawbones Sergeant!”

  Reminded again of the nature of the operation, Bridie dealt a blow to the top of Deakin’s arm.

  “An’ I’ve not forgot, neither, how the thing was done. What with an old chisel and a mallet! An’ me drunk as Paddy’s sow!”

  Deakin looked askance at her.

  “What you complainin’ to me for? The thing’s worked out fine! And if you want someone else to blame, go to him, him there!”

  He pointed at Joe Pike.

  “’Twas him as fetched the tools. Wouldn’t have happened otherwise.”

  She hit him again.

  “Now wasn’t he just followin’ orders. Orders from you!”

  “Ah! Yes. An’ I got my marchin’ orders after, straight from you. That punch! I can’t chew the same since. Army beef now gets swallowed a lot more whole than it used to.”

  At that all laughed, but Bridie had more.

  “Serves you right! So it does.”

  More laughter, then Deakin looked across to Davey.

  “Have you heard back from Molly?”

  Davey’s face lit up.

  “Yes. I got a letter this week gone. Parson here read it out. She can’t come as she’s too pregnant.”

  Miles looked over, his face astonished.

  “Pregnant! You’ve already got one and now another’s due. You’m knockin’ childers out like pots from a factory!”

  Much amusement passed around the table, then Nelly spoke. Her memories of Molly were not of the best, but the news of a family mellowed her thoughts considerably.

  “So how is she?”

  Davey brightened again.

  “Fine! Just fine. They’ve turned the smallholding over to layin’ birds of most sorts and the eggs is sellin’ well. An’ Tilly’s at school. That’s right, Parson, b’ain’t it?”

  Sedgwicke nodded and grinned.

  “Yes, she is. In fact it was Tilly that wrote the letter!”

  The sounds of satisfaction came from all round, until Tom Miles had a more restraining thought, which he just had to give voice to.

  “That’s all to the good, but don’t think you’ll be joinin’ of ‘em too soon. The army’ll get shot of you when you’m either dead or they don’t want to pay for your keep no more!”

  Nelly Nicholls dropped her hands full of sewing down onto the table.

  “Well now, is that not just like you, Tom Miles? Spreadin’ your full misery when all others is sat lookin’ on the bright side of things, at the good in it all.”

  Battle lines drew up, but at that moment the bugle notes sounded for lights out. All stood and returned their appointed places, some to their crib, some to another room. The last act of the evening was for Tom Miles and Nelly Nicholls to exchange a look of full-grown enmity; hostilities to be resumed at the next opportunity.

  ***

  In even greater contrast again, as ‘lights out’ was being enforced throughout the barracks, lights were being replenished at the residence of Lady Constance Fynings, as the candles for the early part of the evening had by now burnt down. With the light restored, the activities of the soiree resumed; cards, small talk, someone on the piano and a game of backgammon. Carr was part of the latter, making up a foursome, and playing for pennies. Carr was a very accomplished player, but he did not show his dismay at the appalling mistakes made by his partner, such that they were about to lose their whole stock of copper. Besides, Carr was making crass errors himself, his mind often wandering elsewhere to where it wanted to be, rather than concentrating on the brightly coloured board, to thereby determine future strategy.

  The company was more than pleasant, the guests being Carr himself, Drake and Cecily, Jane, and a few more from Lady Fyning’s choir. The game was now lost and the winners graciously returned all the brown coins won, as Carr’s partner, a local Magistrate, spoke across the board.

  “Constance hopes to reform the choir again, Henry. Are you game?”

  Carr nodded and smiled.

  “Of course, but I fear for a mere month. We sail again soon.”

  The opponent on the right, looked across to him.

  “Where?”

  Carr sat up with a jolt. Strictly, that was a state secret. On the other hand, British forces were already in Lisbon and the planned expedition seemed common knowledge. He compromised.

  “The Peninsula, again, I feel sure, although I am not privy to the final deliberations of their Lordships at Horse Guards. But I suspect back there, to one part or another.”

  The final member of the four assembled the dice and counters and returned them to the polished mahogany box. Of all those sat around the table he was the least inclined to be agreeable and the most likely to be argumentative.

  “With the same result?”

  Carr sat back.

  “One can only hope not. Events conspired against us, I feel justified in saying. Moore felt honour bound to advance into Spain, when the Spanish decided to defend Madrid, an advance at some risk, especially with Napoleon in attendance. We all know the result, but General Wellesley I feel to be more likely to prioritise the safety of his own army, giving poor second to any pleas from the Spanish. I, for one, feel thoroughly content to be led by Wellesley. Under him we fought two battles and won both, the last inside two hours. He cleared Portugal of all French. Led by him we all feel we have the beating of any French army, even outnumbered.”

  The man tapped the box lid. He was not appeased.

  “Then he signed the Convention of Cintra!”

  The Magistrate now rejoined the debate.

  “Ordered to, Lawrence! Ordered to! That’s now thoroughly established.”

  He looked across, but Lady Constance, as an accomplished hostess, had noticed that the game had finished and also the serious tone of the conversation.

  “Game finished? Good! Perfect timing. We are to test our memories, and voices, in the choir, albeit much depleted. Around the piano, now, all of you.”

  There was no arguing and the four stood to walk the yards of Persian carpet and assemble around the gleaming instrument. Lady Constance placed all according to their registers, meaning that Carr had to sing bass, he was the only one even close to capable. The same girl that Carr remembered from previous rehearsals long ago, arrived at the keyboard and Lady Constance distributed the sheet music. At the sight of the notes so low on the stave, Carr groaned in
wardly, but they were starting with a good tune, the newly penned “Billy Boy” and all cheerily sang with gusto through the discussion of “Is she fit to be your wife?” and “Can she cook an Irish stew?” The lively ditty enthused everyone and several tunes more were sung, some from their past choir and the performance was judged “Passable and encouraging” by Lady Constance.

  It was time to go and all exited to the hall for Maud to distribute the cloaks, capes, bonnets and gloves. Carr and Jane had naturally gravitated together and they were surprised to find Lady Constance suddenly stood just behind and between them. She leaned forward and spoke quietly.

  “Go back into the drawing room. I want a word.”

  With that she sailed forth towards the front door and bid all her other guests a good goodnight. Drake, ever curious, looked back.

  “Jane and Henry?”

  Lady Constance gave him a firm look, one that said, “there is more to be done.”

  “They are remaining with me for a little while longer. You go on in your own carriage, mine is standing ready to take them home.”

  This fact told Drake all he needed to know, that this was all pre-planned and he had best keep out. He offered Cecily his arm and they left.

  In the drawing room Carr and Jane were seated, still wearing their heavy outdoor clothing. Lady Constance lowered herself into a chair opposite and looked at the pair, quickly from one to the other.

  “You have my blessing, in every way, for your hopes to be married!”

  The sudden outburst took both of her audience by surprise and they exchanged a surprised but delighted look. Carr smiled warmly back at Lady Constance.

  “Well, that is very kind of you, Lady Constance and very much appreciated. Things have not exactly gone our way ………..”

  Carr was about to finish with “…. of late”, but Lady Constance had held up her hand. Carr remained quiet.

  “Which is why I wish to speak to you both, now.”

  She looked at Jane.

  “I have no wish to speak ill of your Father to you, Jane. In fact I have held my opinion back over all these years, but your Mother was a dear friend of mine and I watched the joy and happiness that was in her nature, gradually drain out of her over the years of her marriage to your Father. From that, you can gather my opinion of him and so I’ll say no more on that subject.”

  She paused, as though gathering impetus for what she really wanted to say.

  “I’ve had an argument with your Father, just today. He called this morning. He knows that I have some influence with you and he required me, yes, that’s the word, required me, to persuade you of the wisdom of your marrying Lucius Tavender. I told him frankly that I would do no such thing! He left in high dudgeon! Relations between us are now thoroughly soured, never having been so very sweet in the first place.”

  She looked at Jane, who broke off towards her from sharing a serious look with Carr.

  “Jane! I understand that you have some money of your own?”

  Jane nodded. Lady Constance took a deep breath.

  “Jane, my house is yours to use if ever relations between yourself and your Father deteriorate to such a level as to require it. My niece and myself bounce around in here like peas inside a rattle. If ever you need a roof over your head, for whatever reason…….”

  She paused, the implication being obvious.

  “You may live here and welcome, to remain attached to each other until such time as you are able to be married.”

  She drew another breath.

  “On the subject of money, my man of business will invest your sum for you to create an income, if you so wish. Any losses to the capital, I will make good myself.”

  She paused again.

  “I am offering you my house and my help, such as I can give. This, so that you can pursue your hopes towards each other, and one day be married.

  The interim was a stunned silence, broken only by the loud ticking of the ornate clock behind her Ladyship. Carr looked at Jane, who was showing a hesitant smile on and off, then he rose and went over to Lady Constance to take her hand and kiss it.

  “Lady Constance, you are more than kind. That Jane should be safe, well, and cared for whilst I am abroad has been my constant worry. Your kindness has set me thoroughly at ease. We can now wait, for my Majority, whenever it comes and then be married. I hate to speak so openly of money, but with that promotion my pay will be such that we can buy our own house together and call it our home. I, too, have a little sum of my own.”

  He looked over at Jane, who was now grinning openly, almost laughing and looking all around the room in her happiness and confused surprise. Lady Constance stood up.

  “My carriage is waiting for you outside, to take you home. Both of you.”

  Jane rose and the three took themselves to the front door. Before leaving, Jane threw her arms around her Ladyship. No words were spoken, except finally from Lady Constance.

  “Go now, both of you. And God Bless you both!”

  In the carriage, Carr, installed at last, naturally sat, as convention dictated, opposite Jane, but she soon changed that by bringing herself over to his side, seizing his right arm and draping it around her shoulders, holding two fingers of his right hand in each of her hands. Then she snuggled in under his armpit. Carr was in another place, seeing nothing, feeling everything!

  “I told you things would move our way!”

  The reply was a squeeze of his fingers, so he reached across to take her left hand in his.

  “You are my love!”

  The result was her head moving, in the dark, but it was light enough for him to know that she was looking up at him and smiling, then her head fell against his chest. His left hand came back to hold the handle beside the door, to steady them both from the coach swaying on the uneven road, but the coach rattled on, the dark world beyond the door and the polished glass completely irrelevant.

  ***

  The following afternoon, exactly eighty miles away, William Bentinck sat in his office, this being in the highest part of a tower, for he worked not in the relative luxury of a common barracks, instead he spent his days in a fortress and it gave frequent reminder of that function, being bleak, bare and formed from large, unaesthetic, blocks of stone. Bentinck was a man of the country, therefore fresh air was a priority requirement and all windows were open to allow in both the sea air and the sounds of the preparation of an army, or at least his Brigade of it. The sounds came in of marching men, screaming instructors and squabbling seagulls. On his desk, and trying his patience, for he was necessarily a busy man, were two letters, both concerning the remembered Captain Carr, but one asking for support for his Majority, the other condemning the idea utterly. However, the first gave clear explanation of support, whilst the second contained little more than ill-tempered invective, this from a General Perry, of whom Bentinck had no knowledge. The first, from Colonel Lacey, whom he remembered, gave details that he could well recall, prominent being the fight to hold the farmhouse above Elvina. This same letter also made the very reasonable point that Lacey needed to establish his Officer Corps soon, as they were ordered to be part of the army being despatched back to the Peninsula.

  His impatience was not improved by the fact that, to deal with this, required three replies, one to Horse Guards, a second to Lacey and a third, a courtesy reply, to General Perry. He sighed, this was irksome on a busy day amongst other busy days, but there was one simple way out. He raised his head and looked through the door.

  “Tavender!”

  A voice came from the outer office.

  “Sir?”

  “Are there any clerks there?”

  “No Sir. They are taking their midday meal. Its just me and Captain Templemere.”

  “You’ll have to do. Bring pen and paper.”

  The two appeared and came in, both resplendent in their Light Cavalry uniforms, their outlandish decoration, which Bentinck always found to be somewhat irksome. They spoke in unison.

&n
bsp; “Sir?”

  “Bring up a chair, opposite, here. We have letters to write.”

  He pointed to the space before his desk. With the two seated, Bentinck pointed at Tavender.

  “Yours is a copy to Colonel Lacey of the 105th Foot at Taunton.”

  He pointed to Templemere.

  “Yours is a copy to General Perry, Regional General Western Counties at Taunton.”

  He watched as the two wrote their headings.

  “Mine is to Horse Guards.”

  He began writing his own heading, then he looked up.

  “Now, have you written your recipients?”

  Both nodded and again in unison.

  “Sir.”

  “Very good, so, as I dictate, so you write.”

  He dipped his pen again in the ink and shook off the surplus.

  “Sirs. Concerning the Brevetcy of Captain Henry Carr of the 105th Foot, Prince of Wales Own Wessex Regiment. This has my full support, therefore it is my wish that his current rank should now be confirmed and Captain Carr promoted to full Major. In support I would list the following.”

  He reached over for Lacey’s letter, which gave the details that he wished to add of Carr’s record in the Peninsula; ‘Why take the trouble to compose my own words?’ he thought. Whilst he did so, Tavender and Templemere exchanged a disturbed look, one that conveyed their shared distaste with what they were now part of. By now, Bentinck had Lacey’s letter in front of him and he called out, for all three to write, the details as given. That done, Bentinck composed his final sentence, which he again dictated.

  “I consider this record to provide ample justification for Captain Carr’s Majority to be confirmed.”

  He signed his own, then signed the two copies.

  “Wax!”

  Tavender stood and fetched the small pot of sealing wax suspended above a small candle, whilst Bentinck folded all three. The wax was poured and the letters sealed. The wax dried quickly, then Bentinck wrote above each seal the recipient and then pushed all three across to Templemere.