“You’ll be fine! Just do and say what the good Vicar tells you. You’ll be fine.”
Carr leaned slightly towards him.
“And not mispronounce the words, or get them in the wrong order, or trip over my sword, or worse still trip up Jane!”
“Now you’re being silly! Get a grip and get the thing done. You’d think there was a column of French coming up the aisle.”
“That would not concern me half so much.”
He looked at Drake.
“You’ve got the ring?”
“No! I pawned it. Of course I’ve got the ring!”
Carr did not feel any better, so instead he turned for the tenth time to look back along the aisle. On his side were almost all soldiers from the Militia, on the Bride’s side the family of Lady Constance, Cecily Drake and the staff from Fyning’s Court. Together they made a good congregation for the small Church. Then Drake had a thought.
“What about your people? Shouldn’t they be here?”
Carr took a deep breath as he turned to Drake to answer.
“Yes and no. They’re too far North and I’m too much of a black sheep, what with fighting duels scandalously and then getting slammed in the news-sheets. I, we, will get back up there eventually. Seeing Jane will bring them round.”
Carr then faced back to the Altar, for another worry had occurred.
“Does the organ work?”
Drake turned to him, now out of patience.
“Dammit, yes! Lady Constance keeps the thing tip top and it’s just been given the once over, on her orders!”
He looked up to where the organ was placed, to the left of the Chancel.
“And that chap up there is a first-rate musician. He comes from Wells Cathedral, no less. A personal friend of her Ladyship.”
“And what if Perry comes busting in at that point where the Vicar asks if anyone knows of any just impediment, or whatever it is?”
Drake grinned and straightened up.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s going to happen. You’ll see why, when you finally get outside, you and your good Lady!”
Carr turned to Drake with an expression of utter bemusement, but it was at that point that the bucolic Vicar appeared from a side door in the chancel and came forward, beaming, to take his place at the top of the steps down to the transept. Then, the said organ gave a short wheeze and then started up with Bach’s Prelude One in C. Carr heard the congregation rise to their feet, but it was Drake who eased himself around sufficiently to look back.
“She’s coming down the Aisle.”
“Oh Lord!”
“You should turn around and have a look! She’ll be here soon.”
And so Carr did, and what he saw captured his whole consciousness, for there came a vision from which he could not take his eyes until she came to stand beside him and the Vicar called him to order. Utterly removed from anything like full awareness of his surroundings as he was by the revelation stood beside him, nevertheless, some other, more stubborn, part of his character came to the fore and this carried him through the recitations. At the part where the Vicar asked ‘Who brings this woman to this place to be wedded to this man’ the booming voice of the Bishop of Bath and Wells gave the short but unequivocal answer.
“I do!”
It was he, unnoticed by Carr that had escorted her down the Aisle. There was some noise, of some sort during the giving of the vows, but the Ceremony was of the briefest and soon Henry Carr and Jane Perry were pronounced ‘Man and Wife’. The progress back down the Aisle involved no accidents neither with sword nor uneven flagstone and soon they were out into the light, now somehow brighter than when they had gone in.
However, outside was something astonishing, this being forty Militia, twenty each side of the path to the house, forming an arch with their muskets and bayonets fixed. Sergeants Jordan and Nicholls headed the line with regulation Sergeant’s halberds. At that point rice and paper petals came raining in and so the pair embarked onto the path and through the assembled Militia. Many spoke as they past through, simple words came to them, such as “Congratulations, Sir”, “Long and happy life together”, which moved Carr markedly. Once inside the house, drinks were served and Jane was whisked away by Lady Constance to meet the family who had come so far to see her married. Carr and Drake, stood together, suddenly found themselves approached by the Bishop of Bath of Wells, no less, and a Major of the 40th Foot. Both sprang to attention and saluted, as the Bishop made the introductions.
“Major Carr and Captain Drake, may I introduce Major Aykbourne of the 40th. He performed a little service for us, which turned out to be necessary, although I had hoped that it would not, but I do hope that nothing was heard inside, where you were?”
It was Carr who recovered first.
“Sir?”
“Yes. Our less than civil General Perry arrived, with Captain Tavender and some other Officer, demanding entrance, but your good Militia lads formed line and stood them off. All very legal and proper, them not being invited, and this being a civilian affair on private property in a family Church. They took their leave after being pronounced trespassers by Major Aykbourne here, this authority stemming from her Ladyship herself.”
Carr was deeply moved and leaned forward, offering his hand, which the Major took.
“I can only offer my most sincere thanks, Major Aykbourne and hope that there will be no repercussions for you.”
“No fear of that, not with Perry involved, doing the complaining! Mine were at Talavera, like yours, but up at the Pajar, off to your right. Part of Kemmis’ Brigade in Campbell’s Fourth. Both have but scant regard, if any at all, for our General Perry. Ours were reduced to absolute scarecrows because of his lack of competence. You’ll find no sympathisers for General Perry in the Fourth Division, from top to bottom, be very assured.”
Carr grinned.
“I can only thank you again, for preserving what is mine and my wife’s most important day. You must now attend the Wedding Breakfast. I’ll see that a place is set for you.”
The Bishop leaned over, conspiratorially.
“Already done, Carr. Her Ladyship beat you to it!”
All laughed, as the gong sounded for all to take their places, and so Carr, Jane, the Bishop and Lady Constance greeted their guests before entering the dining hall. The meal was sumptuous and plentiful and the wine flowed. With all now consumed, the speeches began, first with the Bishop, who dwelt inevitably more on the charms of Jane than the virtues of Carr. That done, up rose Nathaniel Drake, very much looking forward to relating the severe embarrassments of Carr, as much as the Bishop had filled his words with anecdotes in favour of Jane. He had not spoken ten words, when a gasp came to him from the far end of the table. All looked to see Drake’s wife, Cecily, with a look of utter consternation on her face.
“It’s started! It’s started!”
Then the pain of the first contraction arrived across her face. For a long moment, no one moved, but then Drake rushed to her side and Lady Constance rushed from the room. Jane followed Drake and Carr stood up.
“Ladies and Gentlemen! I rather think that another happy event is about to overtake this one! Please remain as our guests for as long as you choose and perhaps, who knows, you may be able to hear the happy news concerning this very imminent birth!”
By now, Cecily had been whisked away with Jane in close attendance and Carr followed Drake to the foot of the staircase where both were bid to remain by Lady Constance’s maidservant. The local midwife arrived, she being the object of Lady Constance’s hurried exit and from then on a very worried and frazzled Drake sat beside Carr on the lower step. Now it was Carr’s turn to steady nerves, but all attempts fell on deaf ears. Drake was now an agitated bundle of worries and fears for the worse. They sat there, all through the evening and well into the night, even the small hours, until they heard the doubly welcome cry of an infant. Drake looked at Carr, still worried.
“And Cecily?”
How
ever, at that moment the midwife came down the stairs, looking directly at Drake.
“Up you go, Sir. You have a fine baby girl. Both are doing well”
Drake rose so fast that Carr’s attempt to place a congratulatory slap on his shoulder missed entirely, but this was soon forgotten as Jane emerged from the birthing room and held out her hand for them both to finally retire for their much delayed wedding-night.
There was little sleep for any in the household, bar a short catnap through the growing dawn and it was bleary-eyed guests who sat for an early lunch that doubled as breakfast. It was Carr alone, him being accustomed to little sleep, who met the Militia for the evening’s training, but he left most of the affair to his instructors, bar informing the men why using half-Company volleys were so important. Come the close of the session, the orders to fire could be left to the three young teenage Officers, which they thoroughly enjoyed.
The following days revolved very much around the infant, especially for Drake. However, Carr and Jane spent all possible time in each other’s company. It mattered little what they did, either walking the local lanes or merely talking whilst sat by the fire. All that mattered was that they were within touching distance, each to the other. During the evening, the four, with the baby asleep, took great pleasure in singing around the piano, Cecily played very well and all could hold their place in most choirs, but Carr had only eyes for his dearest Jane.
The leave of both was drawing to a close and only two major events now remained, these being who amongst the Militia would take the Bounty and the Christening of the baby. One afternoon Drake, Cecily and the baby found Carr dozing by the fire, whilst Jane read a book, some embroidery by her side. It was Cecily who spoke.
“I have a request for you both.”
Carr opened one eye and Jane lowered her book.
“We want you both to be Godparents.”
Jane spoke up immediately.
“We accept!”
Carr looked over at her, but she was continuing.
“Have you decided on the names?”
“Yes. Henrietta Jane Cecily Drake.”
The significance of the first was not lost on Carr, who needed to clench his jaw and swallow hard. He managed to choke out one word.
“When?”
“27th The day before you both leave.”
“On the 26th we find out who’s coming back out with us.”
Drake nodded.
“Correct. That also will be an important day.”
The day did come, all too quickly, and Carr felt the need to stand before his men on the parade ground and speak a few words. Once again Brockenhurst was absent, but Slade was in the background and remained there. Carr had the men assemble into four ranks, as for a square, and he stood before them.
“Men. You are as trained and capable a Company of soldiers as ever I have seen. I have no hesitation in saying that I would have no qualms at all about commanding you in battle. In fact I would be proud to do so. This is the last time we will see you here, for in two days time Captain Drake and myself will return to Spain. We would like to take you all, but this is now your decision. To make your choice, you are now dismissed and you should go into the barracks and tell Sergeant Jordan of your decision, yes or no. He has the coin, there and then to give you the Bounty, should you do, what I hope you will do, and come out with Captain Drake and myself to meet and defeat your country’s enemies.”
He allowed the words to hang.
“Thank you and dismiss!”
However, this was not to happen immediately. One of the ‘squeaker’ Lieutenants, the eldest Ben Quayle stepped forward.
“Men. Three cheers for Major Carr and Captain Drake!”
The cheers rang out and both Carr and Drake lifted their hats in acknowledgment, but, significantly, at the second loud huzza Major Slade turned his horse and left. Now Carr and Drake could only stand and wait. As the men emerged from the arch, having spoken their decision, many spoke both thanks and good wishes to them both. Ben Quayle marched up and spoke, grinning from ear to ear.
“I’m coming with you, Sir, and Joe Underwood.”
Carr leaned forward and shook his hand.
“Proud to have you both. Thank you.”
Finally the last of the Militia emerged and began their journey home, followed by Sergeant Jordan, who could be seen grinning even in the gathering gloom.
“122 Sir. And two Lieutenants. On top, Corporal Mat Green, as lost an eye, will sign up again, if you’re willin’, Sir. Says he still has the right, as can still sight along a barrel, Sir.”
Carr laughed.
“Tell him any man who stood at Coruna and Talavera will do for me, with one eye or two!”
“I’ll add him on then, Sir, so that’s 125. Officers and men.”
As they returned home, Drake leaned over conspiratorially.
“That’s made an awful dent in Brockenhurst’s Sunday parade!”
Carr grinned and nodded, but with little mirth.
“Time for home.”
The day for the Christening arrived and was to take place in the same family Church as the wedding, the first for decades and therefore much effort was lavished on the ancient font, the wooden lid, the copper and the stonework. The Reverend Pendlebury again officiated and Henrietta howled her indignation as Jane passed her over to the good Vicar and he gently palmed the water onto her infuriated brow.
That night, their last night together, Jane came and stood before Carr, her husband, and looked up at him.
“Do you still have the medallion I gave you before you left for Scilly?”
Carr looked puzzled.
“Yes. I still wear it. You know I do.”
She brought her hands from behind her back.
“This is something else. I want you to keep this.”
She raised up to his face a small miniature in a silver frame.
“It’s me!”
Carr took it and studied it carefully as Jane looked at him.
“I think it flatters me!”
Carr shook his head.
“It does you no justice.”
He transferred his fond gaze to her face.
“You could come out with me, you know. I don’t want you to, but you could.”
She shook her head.
“No, it’s best. From what you say, it’s just too awful out there. I’d have to stay back in Lisbon anyway and I’d see little more of you there than I see of you now. At least there will be a very good reason for you to come home more often, if I stay here.”
Carr nodded.
“One less thing to worry about. No-where is safe, not really. Spain is full of French. One day we could be penned in around Lisbon. Under siege! That would drive me frantic!”
Suddenly something broke within her and she flew into his arms.
“Come back to me!”
He buried his face in her hair.
“It’ll take a lot to stop me, neither any sea nor any army. I’ll be back. There are just too many reasons why I should.”
The following day began with a sombre breakfast then, during the short hours before their departure neither couple; Carr and Jane, nor Drake, Cecily and their baby daughter, were much more than arm’s length from each other. Finally came the hour and each Officer carried their baggage to their horse, each standing saddled at the front of the house. Little was said and little was done, beyond a fierce but brief embrace. Tears were held back as Carr and Drake mounted, lifted a last hand in farewell and then left. The ride into Taunton was conducted in silence, each man with his own thoughts, but they were both concerned with the same topics, of loved ones left behind and the sights now around them, of their own country, damp, barren and bleak in late November, but, nevertheless, all the sights of that month carrying the deepest poignancy. They wasted no time, but rode to the head of the column of Militia. Mat Green, of one eye, now made up to Sergeant and with a neat patch over his left eye, yelled the orders, at which signal the fifes an
d drums stuck up ‘Brighton Camp’. The whole then took the road South, through a long avenue of waving handkerchiefs and tearful faces.
oOo
“Is this Christmas Day?”
In response to both the question and to a sharp nudge in his ribs, Byford opened one eye.
“Yes. Or near.”
Zeke Saunders drew the horse blanket closer up to his chin.
“Well, I’ve had one in better places, warmer and a damn sight more easy on the bones.”
“Ah, but not one with a better view!”
Saunders dismissed the comment with a guffaw.
“What better view can there be on Christmas Day than a good fire and a table well set?”
Byford chuckled.
“None. I agree.”
Saunders looked at his good friend.
“What’s the name of this place we’n marchin’ to? The next to come.”
Byford pronounced the name carefully.
“Theee ooo dad Rodrigoh.”
Saunders adjusted his blanket.
“I’ll settle for Roger’s Town!”
At this point Miles rolled over, next to them.
“Can’t you two shut up! They’ll have us marchin’ again within the hour.”
They were all in a long line, the men and Followers of the Messes of Jed Deakin and John Davey, all on a road that was carried by what was no more than a perilous shelf etched into the side of one the mountains of the Sierra De Gata. It was this high point that provided the view, on what was still a clear, although dying day. The temperature was far into freezing, but, on this day, mercifully there was no wind. They were not resting off the road but on it, because there was no space to the side, yet nevertheless they were making good use of the cliff overhang above. In addition, they were also making good use of what had been provided to enable them to make the march, within even the hours of darkness, from Badajoz to the Northern town of Coimbra. All had new greatcoats, boots and trousers and the more astute and veteran, such as these, had obtained thick horse-blankets. Thus they all lay, buried in blankets, of a variety of colours, with a variety of Regimental numbers displayed in the corners.
The Plains of Talavera Page 46