Hervey spent a despondent breakfast with Henrietta that morning. He had the greatest difficulty condoling with her to any appreciable effect, for a part of her sorrow was at the loss of an association which, though by no means ever close, was none the less true. Yet he also knew that there was an element of foreboding in her sorrow, and this he felt wholly powerless to ease. But he had to leave her temporarily, nevertheless, since Sir Abraham Cole had sent him a note the evening before, saying that there was business of which he would speak, and in seclusion, and that he would come with his chaise at ten.
The melancholy news from London was dampening Sir Abraham’s spirits too as he and Hervey set off towards Welbeck next morning. Sir Abraham was of the decided opinion that it boded ill for the peace of the country, for with no infant heir to the throne on which the populace might dote, there was all too much opportunity for the Whigs – and even republicans – to exploit the ample shortcomings of the Prince Regent. He was sure that there would be trouble when it came to a coronation: the Princess Caroline was not going to be excluded easily, and might well become a figurehead for forces opposed to the Regent. Hervey questioned whether the princess would take such a course, but Sir Abraham pronounced himself sure that she lacked the sense to realize, let alone resist, such exploitation. Hervey felt some need to speak for his erstwhile royal colonel, but then thought better, for her reputation was now such that any reasonable man could not but share Sir Abraham’s opinion – albeit with the greatest sadness.
Sir Abraham said he was pleased beyond measure that the Luddite troubles seemed abated – finished, even – for throughout the North and Midlands the forces of the law were making inroads on the secretive organization. But he was unhappily of a mind that Luddite violence would soon be replaced by Reform violence – perhaps a more damaging thing than the sledgehammers of the machine-breakers, for its objective was less material than political.
The day was sunny, a fine autumn morning for all that the news and prospects were grim. After a little way further they stopped to drop the barouche’s half-hood, to continue with the senses open fully to the sights, the sounds and the scents of the season in this, said Sir Abraham proudly, ‘the finest of the shires’. In another half an hour they turned through the gates of Manvers Priory, a house about the same size as Sir Abraham’s own, but with a larger park and a small lake within its grounds. Hervey had seen it before only at a distance, for it had neither suffered attack nor threat of it, its occupant being an elderly dowager of the Dukeries. He was intrigued, therefore, as they pulled up to the front, and Sir Abraham bid him step down.
The house bore signs that the occupant was not at home, however: the windows were shuttered, the chimneys idle, and there was no footman to attend them.
‘Lady Anne died three weeks ago, I’m sorry to say,’ Sir Abraham told him. ‘She was a good sort – knew her neighbours and village folk alike.’
‘It’s a fair prospect, the lake especially. Do I suppose that you bring me here because you intend taking the lease?’ Since Hervey had never met Lady Anne, there seemed no reason to express any particular regret at her passing.
Sir Abraham smiled. ‘You’re ever sharp, Captain Hervey. Yes, I had a mind to negotiate for the lease.’
‘Then you’ll not rebuild Clipstone? I thought that surveyors were already at work.’
‘Oh, yes. Indeed I shall rebuild Clipstone!’
‘Then why should you want the lease on this house?’
Sir Abraham smiled again, took a flask from the door pocket and offered it him. ‘Captain Hervey, command of the Sherwood Yeomanry falls vacant soon. The bench and the association are of one mind – that you should have it. And with command shall go the lease of Manvers Priory!’
Hervey had never been more astounded than by this proposition – not even by the appointment to the duke’s staff, nor the brevet and its promise of regimental promotion. He could scarcely make a sound, even of astonishment.
‘And, Captain Hervey – how may I put this? – you would be handsomely remunerated.’
‘Sir Abraham, I . . .’
‘And there are other inducements, indeed. The living of Manvers Parva is vacant – a very presentable one, I’m told – and the tenant of Manvers Priory has the advowson. There are one or two pretty cottages with the estate, too.’
‘Sir Abraham, I confess I am exceedingly flattered, more than I can express . . . but I cannot think entirely clearly.’
‘Of course, Captain Hervey, of course!’ said Sir Abraham. ‘This is scarcely a matter on which I would expect a decision from the saddle, so to speak. A week, shall we say?’
Hervey took his leave of Sir Abraham some distance from the grange, deciding that a walk might give him opportunity to assemble his thoughts and objections before sharing them with Henrietta.
Although the new appointment carried the rank of lieutenant colonel, it would hold no seniority within the army as a whole. He would have to sell out from the Sixth, of course. But perhaps if he went on half-pay instead he could rejoin the colours later, as major possibly. Or, if his seniority and means allowed it, as lieutenant colonel, although that rank would require a prodigious sum of money. But Sir Abraham had hinted that the yeomanry command would not leave him impecunious – quite the opposite, indeed – although the upkeep of Manvers Priory and the social obligations of a commanding officer of yeomanry would also make their demands.
Then again, what prospects did he truly have with the Sixth? He stood on the wrong side of his commanding officer, and that would be enough to blight any hope of advancement. Yet how might he like leaving the regiment, perhaps for good, and those who had come to look upon him as more than just an officer? In the army, people came and went all the time. Nothing was permanent, and that, he supposed, was one of the strengths of the system, as well as one of its weaknesses. He needn’t leave everyone behind, though. He could make Armstrong serjeant-major and let him have one of the pretty cottages for his family, Collins could be promoted serjeant, and Johnson corporal. He might even be able to make Mr Lincoln quartermaster. There was much more to this advancement than just his own fortunes.
Hervey thought of his father. Was this not the very solution to his problems with the archdeacon? Why should not the Reverend Thomas Hervey become rector of Manvers Parva, and find his ease in its extensive glebe and two thousand a year? Elizabeth would be content, as the countryside was pleasant and there seemed rather more opportunity here of her moving in county circles. Even Mrs Strange could have employment in the parish school.
Henrietta, too, would have a house in which she might truly feel at home, not the mean little places they would otherwise have to take. Seeing her that night, asleep at the White Hart in Nottingham, he had come to realize how unkind was his transplanting of her from the elegance of Longleat to the soldiers’ camp. At Manvers Priory she would enjoy the company of her equals in the county, and indeed in the neighbouring ones, for driving was a good deal easier than in Wiltshire. She and Elizabeth could see each other often again. Above all, she and he would see each other every day. They need hardly spend an evening, let alone a night, but in each other’s company. And here she could bear their children in comfort and safety, and raise them healthily. If ever a death had been more instructive than the Princess Charlotte’s and her child’s, he did not know of it.
As Hervey walked into the grange yard his mind was made up, and his opinion was strengthened – in respect of his reasoning at least – by the report which greeted him.
‘Hervey! Thunderously good news!’ beamed Seton Canning, rushing over from the picket post. ‘Those rumours these past weeks: well, we’re to see America after all!’
Hervey appeared perplexed.
‘The regiment is being sent to Canada with two others – infantry. There’s a great to-do about warship building on the Lakes. We’re wanted to make a show on the border!’
Private Johnson brought coffee into a sitting room at the grange, where Hervey and Henriet
ta were in earnest conversation.
‘Thank you, Johnson. That will be all. I shall not be at watering parade. Ask Mr Seton Canning to carry on, if you will.’
‘Right, sir.’ Johnson picked up his captain’s cloak and shako and left without another word.
‘No, Matthew,’ said Henrietta when the door was closed.
Hervey was astonished. It had not crossed his mind for one second that she might have any objection whatever. ‘But why, my love? Everything about this offer is so singularly attractive!’
‘No, it is not. Not everything.’
He was now thoroughly perplexed. ‘You have not seen the house, I grant you, but—’
‘It is not the house, Matthew.’
‘Then what is it?’
She sighed. ‘You speak of Serjeant Armstrong: why should he be happy to take his ease in a cottage in Manvers Parva? It would be like taking a foxhound from last year’s entry and putting a collar on it. And Corporal Collins, too: do you think he is so hungry for a serjeant’s chevron that he would wish to join a regiment of catshooters, as you call them?’
Henrietta’s forthrightness took him aback, as well as her evident grasp of military cant. She had rallied bravely from the morning’s news – that much was clear.
‘And what about you, Matthew? How should you like it? Do you mean to tell me that the prospect of trotting about Nottinghamshire for the next twenty years shall please you?’
‘My darling, it is not I whom I think of. There is the happiness of . . .’ He looked at the swelling at her skirts, slight though it still was.
She took his hand. ‘Matthew, dearest, if you are not happy then I can never be. And if you care to think on that you cannot but see that this business with the yeomanry would be a very sad affair indeed.’
‘But the orders for Canada?’
‘Matthew, your troop has been abuzz with life since the news came! I have no doubt that you yourself are eager for it too.’
She smiled so warmly that he could not help but concede her point, though with an embarrassed sort of grin.
‘But the consequences, my love: they scarcely bear thinking about.’
‘What consequences, Matthew?’
‘That you and I shall be parted, and at the very worst of times!’
Henrietta’s smile returned, accompanied by the familiar, disarming, little shake of the head. ‘Oh no, my love. We shall not be parted. For I have every mind to see Canada myself.’
PART THREE
THE AFFAIR AT NIAGARA
TREATY OF PEACE AND AMITY BETWEEN HIS BRITANNIC MAJESTY AND THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
His Britannic Majesty and the United States of America desirous of terminating the war which has unhappily subsisted between the two Countries, and of restoring upon principles of perfect reciprocity, Peace, Friendship, and good Understanding between them . . . have agreed upon the following Articles.
ARTICLE THE FIRST
There shall be a firm and universal Peace between His Britannic Majesty and the United States, and between their respective Countries, Territories, Cities, Towns, and People of every degree without exception of places or persons. All hostilities both by sea and land shall cease as soon as this Treaty shall have been ratified by both parties as hereinafter mentioned . . .
ARTICLE THE NINTH
The United States of America engages to put an end immediately after the Ratification of the present Treaty to hostilities with all the Tribes or Nations of Indians with whom they may be at war at the time of such Ratification, and forthwith to restore to such Tribes or Nations respectively all the possessions, rights, and privileges which they may have enjoyed or been entitled to in one thousand eight hundred and eleven previous to such hostilities. Provided always that such Tribes or Nations shall agree to desist from all hostilities against the United States of America, their Citizens, and Subjects upon the Ratification of the present Treaty being notified to such Tribes or Nations, and shall so desist accordingly. And His Britannic Majesty engages on his part to put an end immediately after Ratification of the present Treaty to hostilities with all the Tribes or Nations of Indians with whom He may be at war at the time of such Ratification, and forthwith to restore to such Tribes or Nations respectively all the possessions, rights, and privileges, which they may have enjoyed or been entitled to in one thousand eight hundred and eleven previous to such hostilities. Provided always that such Tribes or Nations shall agree to desist from all hostilities against His Britannic Majesty and His Subjects upon the Ratification of the present Treaty being notified to such Tribes or Nations, and shall so desist accordingly . . .
Done in triplicate at Ghent the twenty fourth day of December one thousand eight hundred and fourteen.
GAMBIER
HENRY GOULBURN
WILLIAM ADAMS
JOHN QUINCY ADAMS
J. A. BAYARD
H. CLAY
JON. RUSSELL
ALBERT GALLATIN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
REUNIONS
York
Upper Canada
12th January 1818
My dear Father,
You will have received by now, I trust, the brief note of our safe arrival in Quebec one week past, and I pray that this letter, too, shall find you and Mama and Elizabeth in good health. I can only add that I pray, also, for your peace and tranquillity in respect of the disagreements with the diocese, and I await news of the proceedings of the consistory court with confidence that Justice shall in the end be done.
Of our own situation I am pleased to send you every good report, and more fully than I was able in my last. The regiment (less one troop to form a depot at Hounslow) left Liverpool on the 28th of November with all its horses, and so well fitted were the transports that we lost naught but half a dozen during the voyage. This was also occasioned by calm seas throughout yet a very favourable wind which made for a faster crossing than sometimes is made, so that we entered the St. Lawrence River on the 2nd of January, and proceeded under tow by steam barge (which I had never seen before) for as far as the rapids above Montreal. There we were disembarked and two troops under the major proceeded to that city where they are to reinforce the garrison. The remaining three troops were transferred to Lake Ontario, and so to here at the western part.
I shall not describe the difficulties we had on account of the severe cold (though it is said that the winter this year is much less severe than usual) but the men and horses bore it unexpectedly well, perhaps because the air, though cold, is very dry and there has been little wind. Above all, Henrietta has suffered it without distress or complaint. We had good quarters on the ship which brought us, and the two dozen wives who accompany the regiment are treated with every consideration by the agents. For much of the transfer to Lake Ontario the ladies were taken by sledge and, covered with furs, they had a very pleasant ride of it indeed! At first I thought that Henrietta might remain in Montreal for her confinement, but, there being still two months, and she feeling in hale condition, she has accompanied me here.
York is the most unlikely capital you ever saw. There are scarce a thousand inhabitants, not counting military. It was burned by the Americans five years ago and there is much bitterness still at it. But it grows almost by the day, even in the depths of winter. What is so very pleasing, though, is that the Lieutenant Governor here (in Upper Canada, I mean) is Sir Peregrine Maitland, who commanded the Guards at Waterloo. He is the finest of men. And his wife is Lady Sarah Lennox, an acquaintance of Henrietta’s, and his aide-de-camp of but two months is Charles Addinsel, whose reacquaintance from Peninsular days I never felt more pleased to make. He was a good friend of d’Arcey Jessope’s, of whom you heard me speak much. So neither Henrietta nor I shall be wanting in engaging company, it seems, no matter how hard a winter it goes.
As to the military purpose for which we were hastened here (I feel that I may say this without prejudice to safety) it would appear that the alarm is past, and we may find ourselves altoget
her more agreeably employed than was supposed . . .
Hervey put down his pen and read over the letter. What his father would make of the vivid ink, he did not know. Perhaps he should have explained that his own had frozen solid on the last leg of the journey, broken the glass of the bottle, and then, when the baggage had been brought inside, thawed into his unexpectedly absorbent pelisse coat. Private Johnson said he could remove the ink without too much trouble, but Hervey doubted it, and thought he would have to reconcile himself to writing off a second coat in ten years. He’d see a pauper’s grave yet, he sighed.
He looked again at the last paragraph. It was not untrue; he need not concern himself there. But it was so far from the whole truth that he worried it was more than he habitually allowed under the general principle of not alarming his family (which had always made his letters from the Peninsula read as if he had been little more than a spectator). Of course there was no present danger of renewed fighting: that much was clear to him in Quebec. This man Bagot, whom Lord Liverpool had sent to settle the question of warships on the Great Lakes was, by all accounts, not a man to misjudge things: it seemed that he had drawn the sting that remained of the late war with a new protocol. Hervey was looking forward to meeting him at dinner at the lieutenant-governor’s that evening.
But the evening would not, of course, be unalloyed pleasure, for there would also be the brooding presence of Lord Towcester. What a joy the last two months had been, separated most of the time by a mile or more of ocean in their respective transports. However, any hope that the sea air had improved his lordship’s disposition, in essentials, was dashed in Quebec, where he had stomped about the governor-general’s apartments in petulant rage, his desire for easy glory thwarted by the tidings of peace. There, Hervey had wondered yet again if he should have accepted Sir Abraham’s handsome offer. In truth, he had wondered long about it during the Atlantic passage, but so pleasant was the cruise that the offer had faded greatly in its temptation by the time they reached Canada. But all of Towcester’s baseness had been laid bare again since their landfall, at least to Hervey’s eyes, and he could scarcely hope to avoid any more trials of loyalty. And try as he might to see this country favourably (and there was much in its raw beauty that appealed) Hervey could not detach his feelings from those he supposed Henrietta must have. How, in Heaven’s name, might she be happy in this frontier of nature? He would love her with all the intensity a man could, but was that – in the spirit’s sense – enough to keep the cold from her?
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