Hervey finished his tour of the horse lines alone, then went to the troop office, where he found Myles Vanneck and his new cornet, Green.
'Good morning, Hervey!' said Vanneck, and with evident pleasure - even though his captain's return meant he would no longer have charge of things.
Hervey had found it easy leaving the troop in his lieutenant's hands. It was, after all, what was intended by the name of that rank. But in Myles Vanneck he had especial trust, as much as he had known in Seton Canning, even. Vanneck had been with the Sixth scarcely five years, but he had taken to command with the greatest of ease - the same ease, indeed, as that of his elder brother in the Eighteenth, whom Hervey had known in the Peninsula. And Vanneck had been lucky, too, for the means to buy a lieutenancy when the time came had been but a trifle to him at 'India rates', though when it was his turn for a captaincy the regiment would, for sure, be back in England and he would thereby have to pay well over price. Not that that should present the Honourable Myles Vanneck with too much difficulty, however: Lord Huntingfield's sons did not go in want of anything. And it was one of the reasons that Hervey so liked him, for he could easily have bought into a home regiment and enjoyed the pleasures of London or Brighton rather than the dust and heat, and the doubtful society of Calcutta. And, of course, the young Cornet Vanneck had comported himself so admirably in the affair of the river. Blue blood, and not afraid to shed it - it was hardly surprising the men regarded him.
Hervey smiled and took off his cap.
'This is Cornet Green.'
Hervey held out his hand, which the cornet took a shade hesitantly.
'How d'you do, sir,' said Green.
The cavalryman's coup d'oeil was not always faithful when it came to the man rather than the situation. That much Hervey would freely acknowledge. But Green was not of the usual stamp: that much was impossible not to observe. He looked ungainly, a touch heavy-limbed to be a man at home in the saddle. And his features were a deal less fine than the subalterns prided themselves on. In the few words of his salutation he revealed that he came from the north of England (although that in itself said nothing, for the proud and independent gentry of the northern counties had provided many a son to the regiment during the war). But there was just something . . . No, thought Hervey; here indeed was a queer card.
'When did you come?' he asked, with deliberate kindness.
'Three months ago, sir.'
'Did you come via the depot?'
'No, sir.'
Nothing more volunteered than the precise answer - this was going to be heavy.
Vanneck sought to help. 'He has bought two fine chargers, I might say. One of them was that bay of Williams's in the bodyguard.'
Hervey nodded. 'I much approve. I had a mind to buy him myself if ever he came up.'
'Thank you, sir.'
Green's hair was sticking up by his right temple, like a duck's tuft. Hervey found himself staring at it.
Vanneck kept trying. 'Green was just about to go to the adjutant. He's picket-officer today.'
'So I see,' said Hervey, glancing at the cornet's review order.
Green's tunic, and all, looked in themselves immaculate, but even Mr Gieve's best efforts could not make a military coat hang well on a dumpling.
'Very good, Green,’ said Hervey, trying hard not to sound dismayed. cWe’ll speak at length tomorrow when your duties are done.’
Cornet Green coloured a little, put on his shako (askew, but Hervey thought best to say nothing -the adjutant would correct it soon enough), saluted and took his leave.
When he had gone, Hervey sat down and looked at Vanneck quizzically.
Vanneck sighed. 'I know. But he means well. The others have given him quite a rousting, though. His nickname's "grocer’’.’
'Green—, I suppose?’
Vanneck nodded. 'That, and his father's a tea merchant, in Lincolnshire.’ He paused, then added, 'In Stamford,’ as if that fact might be of some use.
Hervey smiled ruefully. 'Evidently they drink a lot of tea in Stamford if he can afford Williams's bay.'
'Oh, he's not short of money. On the contrary. The trouble is his ambition is rather in advance of his capability. He's yet to pass out of riding school.'
'Indeed?'
'I did tell him that he might buy a more tractable charger to begin with, but he seemed keen to make a splash.'
'Poor fellow.'
'Yes. And the RM's been sick the while, so the rough-riders have had their fun with him, I'm afraid.'
Hervey laid his cap and whip on the table. 'Can't you help at all, Myles?'
'I'm doing just that, Hervey. I take him out beyond the syces' huts late of an afternoon, where there's no one to see. But I'm not sure he has the hands or legs for it, and I'm pretty sure he hasn't the head.'
'Oh dear. And the drill season about to start.'
'Quite. I'm afraid the dragoons have a poor opinion of him already. He's too stiff about the place.'
'It's hardly surprising from what you tell me. But there have been stiff-necks before; he can overcome that in time. You will keep at him, Myles?'
Vanneck sighed. 'Yes, Hervey. Of course I will. But the others have no such duty as they see it. The trouble is, he has no conversation - and seemingly no interests. At mess the other night even the chaplain gave up on him, and then he fell off his chair quite stupefied.'
'The chaplain?'
'No, Green.'
Hervey smiled again. 'Well, there at least is sign of a kindred spirit, is there not?'
Vanneck smiled too. 'You would think so, but to hear them you'd imagine the cornets had become temperance Methodists.'
'Seems a hopeless case then.'
But Vanneck's sense of propriety took hold again. 'There must have been worse, Hervey. It's perhaps because there's scarce been anything to do these last few months but bear the heat and the rain.'
It was a decent response, and Hervey would not gainsay it, though in truth he could not think of another officer who had made so unpromising a beginning. 'How has Armstrong been, by the way?'
'It would be impossible to praise him excessively.'
'That's as I supposed. How is his family?'
'All well, I understand. Mrs Armstrong is schoolmistress again. There's an ayah for the three babies.'
Hervey faltered - just an instant - at being reminded there were now three. 'Big babies, two of them.'
'Yes. They brought the eldest to stables the other evening.'
Hervey made an effort to collect himself. 'Now, we must speak of the state of the troop. I think I had better look at the order books of late, and then perhaps the acquittance rolls.'
But first he would need to see the muster, and Vanneck looked pained as he opened it at the first page, for it seemed there were as many names struck through with red as not.
Hervey stared at it forlornly. He had shaken the hand of every man on attesting. These had been his dragoons. The red pen strokes looked every bit as bloody as the sabre's, and not a fraction as glorious.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FAMILY MATTERS
Three days later
Hervey's little Marwari stood motionless, head down to her knees, the fever so great that her neck and flanks ran with sweat as if she had just galloped a mile. 'What do you think, David?' The veterinary surgeon shook his head as he felt the mare's chest and belly. 'A most violent swelling - malignant, certainly. When did it first come to notice?'
Private Johnson answered. 'Last night, sir, when I came after watch-setting. She'd broken out a bit on 'er neck, an' she'd left 'er feed.'
'What exercise had she had?'
'An hour in the mornin', sir, in hand.'
Sledge stepped back to look at the mare again. 'By common practice I should draw at least two quarts of blood, but I hold with it less and less.' He shook his head. 'If the blood's poisoned it will have some beneficial effect, but otherwise we'll only weaken an already weak animal, and I think she's going to need her strength.'
‘I’m content to follow your advice’ said Hervey, sounding mystified. 'I've not seen a horse looking as she. What do you suppose it is?’
Sledge's brow furrowed more. 'The inflammation - quite possibly it is tumorous. Too early to say, though. It might be a case of the feltoric. I think we had better purge her.'
Hervey nodded, and turned to his groom. 'Johnson?'
'Ay, sir.'
'I can make up the purgative myself if you want,' said Sledge, putting his coat back on.
'We can do that well enough, can't we, Johnson?' 'Sir.'
Sledge turned to Hervey's groom. 'A full quart of hot gruel with four ounces of electuary of senna and double of castor oil. Put in a measure of Glauber's salts, too.'
'Right sir.'
'You shall have to watch her carefully, Johnson. I must know if there's any material change. And the swelled part must be rubbed twice daily with the blistering oils. Come to the dispense and I'll have my assistant give you a good measure.'
'Right sir.'
'And I'll make a fever ball. She may take it at evening stables.'
Johnson nodded again, writing carefully in his notebook.
'Give her only warm water, in small quantities, mind, and the same with mashes. Three or four times in the day. She might be tempted. But she will require every attention.'
'Of course, sir.'
'Good man.'
They left Johnson to begin his ministrations, and walked back along the troop lines. 'You don't think we need move her?' asked Hervey.
Sledge shook his head. 'I see nothing she might transmit. Best keep her be.'
Hervey said nothing.
They walked a few more steps. 'You'll have heard about the RM last night?'
'No.' The rising cadence suggested Hervey was now alerted, however.
'Blind drunk and put to bed by the picket.'
He was not surprised he hadn't heard. It might be a shade embarrassing for the riding master this morning, but hardly of great moment. 'And?'
'He was ranting against Rose.'
'Oh.'
'Yes.'
Hervey thought for a moment. 'How did you come to hear of it?'
'I saw it. I was called out to the colic in B Troop. Broad could be heard the other side of the lines.'
'Then it is known about officially.'
'I don't know for sure, but I think not. I told the picket-corporal to say nothing.'
That was a bold thing to have done for an officer who held no powers of command, thought Hervey. And humane, too. 'Who was it?'
'Someone from A Troop. I forget his name. Did you speak of Broad and Rose with Joynson, by the way?'
When, three days ago, Sledge had told Hervey all he knew, they had talked about it long. And in the end they had decided that Hervey would speak confidentially with the commanding officer. But now he shook his head. 'I had thought to speak first with Rose, as soon as he comes back from his shooting. I think I'd better apprise Joynson now, though. It's not right that we don't warn him if it's come to this.'
'Rather a fine mess in the making, I'd say.'
'Well, it wouldn't be the first time.'
'Hervey, you seem remarkably phlegmatical.'
'You misjudge me if you think I approve. Rose has not acted like a gentleman. There's scarce more to say, is there?'
'Not acted like a gentleman? I doubt Rose would see it that way, since he'd not recognize Broad as one. Just like a bit of foolery with a housemaid, really.'
'Don't be too hard, David. It seems ten times worse here than if we were in Hounslow. And Mrs Broad's a deuced handsome woman.'
Sledge held his peace. Instead he stopped at one of the stalls to look over the new grey that Hervey had bought for his trumpeter. 'The talk in the wet canteen, by the way, is of money changing hands between Barrow and Nirmal Sen.'
Hervey sighed. Two of the troop-leaders on the primrose path, and for all to see. He felt sorry for the major. 'Ay, Johnson told me last night. How do these things get abroad? It could hardly have come from Nirmal Sen. He can't very well own to bribing a Company official.'
'So you suppose the talk is accurate?'
'I suppose no such thing. You must not let on, 'but the major spoke to me of it three days ago. I told him there was no more reason to presume Barrow capable of it than anyone else.'
Sledge stood up having run a hand down each of the grey's legs. 'Very noble. Do you suppose any would agree with you?'
Hervey looked surprised.
'If it were me or Ledley or the paymaster it would be the same,' said Sledge.
'Oh, come. That is a calumny on the regiment. It might have been Towcester's view but that's of the past.'
Sledge raised his eyebrows as if unconvinced. 'I think you chose well, this grey,' he said, nodding to the trumpeter's new pride. 'I think it safe to pay the balance.'
'Even to Nirmal Sen?'
'There's no question but that he's supplying good horses.'
Hervey smiled in a resigned way. 'Shall you come to evening stables?'
'Of course.'
'And shall you dine? I intend doing.' 'Then so shall I.'
★ * ★
Hervey drained his coffee cup and placed it on the major's desk. 'And that is the long and the short of it.'
Major Joynson had taken off his spectacles and begun to polish them. It had become so much his idiosyncrasy that Hervey found himself wondering at what point the polishing would begin, and the length of time and vigorousness of the polishing, for this tended to indicate the process of cogitation and the degree of difficulty presented by the solution. This morning the polishing had been slow and methodical, suggesting that the case of Rose and Broad was not to be treated with summary, and perhaps condign, justice. 'How much of it do you suppose is generally known?'
Hervey raised both eyebrows.
'Yes. You're right,' said Joynson wearily.
'And if it's not known about already then it can be but a matter of time. Broad is a sick man, his wife is unfaithful, and with a brother officer. These things can hardly conduce to tranquillity.'
Still Joynson polished. 'What would you do were you me?'
'What could I do? Would I have any option but to require Rose to leave?'
Major Joynson had not hoped for a reply in the interrogative. Nevertheless it gave him an opportunity to exhaust all hope of alternatives. 'Would he have to leave the regiment? Sell out,
I mean. Or might he go elsewhere for a time? Somewhere else in India, even. The staff?'
Hervey paused to consider. ‘If Broad had been other than riding master or another from the ranks, and had Rose intended marriage with Mrs Broad, then I suppose it might just have been arranged. But very evidently these are not the conditions.'
'And so Rose must sell out?'
Hervey was becoming exasperated at the major's unwillingness to draw the remaining conclusion. 'Neither you nor I make the rules, sir.'
The major sighed. 'If only we were ordered on campaign.'
'There is that, I grant you,' said Hervey. 'But very evidently that is not a condition on which we can count either.'
'I suppose, then, that first I must have Broad before me and ask what he wishes to be done. Or perhaps first I should see Rose?'
Hervey sighed to himself. 'Really, sir, I think it makes no difference whatever. You shall have to see both of them.'
'And Mrs Broad shall have to leave the cantonment at once.'
Hervey hesitated. 'I think she must. But do let us be kind.'
'Yes, yes,' said the major, suddenly increasing the speed of his polishing. 'Oh dear. Poor woman, poor woman. These things in my experience are never quite as the Commandments suggest.'
Hervey was not sure of the major's point, but he judged it of no matter. 'And as for the tattle about Barrow, I'm afraid I can add nothing but that David Sledge has told me it is the talk of the wet canteen. Indeed, I had heard so myself.'
Major Joynson stopped his polishing and replaced his
spectacles. 'Very well. I shall summon Nirmal Sen. We had better lance this sore in the same way.'
Hervey got up and took his cap.
The major took off his glasses and unaccountably began polishing again. 'Oh, and Hervey, I am very gratified by your counsel. As you say, neither you nor I make the rules.'
'No, sir.'
'And in that connection I would urge you most earnestly to look to your own arrangements regarding . . . regarding your arrangements. There has been talk, I hear ... in the drawing rooms.'
That night in the mess there were few officers, and Hervey, more tired than he had supposed after his first full day in uniform, had not been greatly inclined to join them. However, he had been absent from the table for so long that he thought it a positive duty to dine. He had arrived not many minutes before the khansamah announced dinner and found himself at once the senior.
It was the Sixth's custom for the most junior dining officer to sit on the senior's left, with any guest of the mess on the other hand. It was usually an agreeable position to find oneself in, for both senior and junior, but this evening Hervey found that it promised otherwise, for the junior was Cornet Green and the senior of the two guests was the bishop's chaplain, there at the invitation of Seton Canning with whom he had been at school.
'Reverend sir,' said Hervey as they stood by their chairs. 'Would you say grace?'
'Benedic Domine . . .' began the bishop's chaplain solemnly, and continued at some length.
'Per Jesum Christum Dominum Nostrum. Amen,' answered the table, as best they could, when at last he was finished. Strickland made the sign of the cross - evidence, indeed, of Sir Ivo's benevolent dominion. Poor Strickland had almost been forced onto half pay by Lord Towcester's malignance in matters of religion.
Hervey turned to his right as they sat, to begin what he feared must be an unedifying conversation. He had formed no very high opinion of the Bishop of Calcutta, and he supposed his chaplain to be of the same stamp. But from the other side of the table the senior lieutenant addressed him on behalf of the subalterns. 'We were deliberating, sir, on the efficacy of the sabre's point as against the edge, and wondered what was your opinion in the matter.'
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