could be any recovery from such a calamity – in his own regiment not least.
The recovery had been more rapid than anyone had supposed possible. In part this was due to Major Joseph Edmonds – or Captain Edmonds, as first he was when they came back from Corunna – whose unremitting exertions drove every man to the greatest effort. The best of the non-commissioned officers, too, had shown energy and enterprise of a high order, and the troop-officers themselves – denied leave even to request leave of absence by Edmonds – had achieved much by their mere attendance at parades. But it was the prompt appointment of a new commanding officer, and the nature of that officer, which turned endeavour into spectacular success.
Hervey could picture it still, as if it had been two, not eighteen, years past. Lieutenant-Colonel Lord George Irvine, second son of the Marquess of Tain, arrived at the Sixth’s Canterbury depot the fortnight following their own arrival, and it was at once evident that the new commanding officer was intent on gathering up the reins without delay. Instead of a stately progress from London by a Tain chariot, he arrived in a high tandem cocking cart covered in the mud of the Brighton road, for he meant business, and the earliest start to it. Hervey recalled Edmonds’s surprise as Lord George jumped from the box, in front of the officers’ house, and began brushing the mud from his hat.
Edmonds knew him by sight (and reputation) right enough, which was as well since Lord George’s plain clothes gave little clue to his rank. ‘Good morning, my lord,’ he said, saluting. ‘Edmonds, senior captain. We did not expect you so soon, else I should have turned out the quarter-guard.’
Lord George Irvine smiled as he took off his travelling coat. ‘It is of no matter. And “Colonel” will serve well enough.’
Edmonds took the outstretched hand. ‘Indeed, we had an express only this morning from Lord Sussex saying you were appointed to command. My congratulations, Colonel. I am sorry you will not find the regiment in hale condition.’
‘That is why I am come so soon. Tell me of it.’
‘You will want to retire first, Colonel. Will you come inside?’
Lord George Irvine, invigorated by the drive, was impervious to the cold of the early February morning. ‘I think I will take a turn of the camp, if you please, Edmonds.’
Edmonds smiled to himself appreciatively. ‘By all means.’
They struck off towards the horse lines.
‘I have the scrip for your majority, by the way.’
Edmonds guarded his relief. The promotion by death-vacancy was his by right and custom, but these were difficult times and there was no knowing what the Horse Guards might direct. Money might yet speak. He had advanced free the last time, when two captains had been appointed major on the raising of five new regiments, and before that to lieutenant when the Flanders fevers had laid low so many. A third time was fortune indeed.
‘I am gratified, Colonel.’
‘No, Edmonds, not “gratified”: you are rewarded , if all I hear is true.’
Major Edmonds allowed himself a moment of happy contemplation. Margaret would be as relieved as he at the improvement in their situation: it was no easy thing raising two daughters and keeping an establishment on captain’s pay and two modest annuities. It was a pity the three of them had quit the depot for Norfolk when the regiment sailed for Portugal, for he had seen so little of them in the decade of war with Bonaparte, and news by letter would be flat . . .
And then he remembered there were others who would benefit from his free promotion. ‘Lennox will be obliged, as senior lieutenant, Colonel. He is nicely fitted for a troop.’
‘Capital.’
Two dragoons approached, throwing up sharp salutes as they passed.
‘I would speak with them, Edmonds, if you please.’
‘Crampton, Hardy!’
The two men spun about and stood at attention.
‘Your troop, Edmonds, I
The recovery had been more rapid than anyone had supposed possible. In part this was due to Major Joseph Edmonds – or Captain Edmonds, as first he was when they came back from Corunna – whose unremitting exertions drove every man to the greatest effort. The best of the non-commissioned officers, too, had shown energy and enterprise of a high order, and the troop-officers themselves – denied leave even to request leave of absence by Edmonds – had achieved much by their mere attendance at parades. But it was the prompt appointment of a new commanding officer, and the nature of that officer, which turned endeavour into spectacular success.
Hervey could picture it still, as if it had been two, not eighteen, years past. Lieutenant-Colonel Lord George Irvine, second son of the Marquess of Tain, arrived at the Sixth’s Canterbury depot the fortnight following their own arrival, and it was at once evident that the new commanding officer was intent on gathering up the reins without delay. Instead of a stately progress from London by a Tain chariot, he arrived in a high tandem cocking cart covered in the mud of the Brighton road, for he meant business, and the earliest start to it. Hervey recalled Edmonds’s surprise as Lord George jumped from the box, in front of the officers’ house, and began brushing the mud from his hat.
Edmonds knew him by sight (and reputation) right enough, which was as well since Lord George’s plain clothes gave little clue to his rank. ‘Good morning, my lord,’ he said, saluting. ‘Edmonds, senior captain. We did not expect you so soon, else I should have turned out the quarter-guard.’
Lord George Irvine smiled as he took off his travelling coat. ‘It is of no matter. And “Colonel” will serve well enough.’
Edmonds took the outstretched hand. ‘Indeed, we had an express only this morning from Lord Sussex saying you were appointed to command. My congratulations, Colonel. I am sorry you will not find the regiment in hale condition.’
‘That is why I am come so soon. Tell me of it.’
‘You will want to retire first, Colonel. Will you come inside?’
Lord George Irvine, invigorated by the drive, was impervious to the cold of the early February morning. ‘I think I will take a turn of the camp, if you please, Edmonds.’
Edmonds smiled to himself appreciatively. ‘By all means.’
They struck off towards the horse lines.
‘I have the scrip for your majority, by the way.’
Edmonds guarded his relief. The promotion by death-vacancy was his by right and custom, but these were difficult times and there was no knowing what the Horse Guards might direct. Money might yet speak. He had advanced free the last time, when two captains had been appointed major on the raising of five new regiments, and before that to lieutenant when the Flanders fevers had laid low so many. A third time was fortune indeed.
‘I am gratified, Colonel.’
‘No, Edmonds, not “gratified”: you are rewarded , if all I hear is true.’
Major Edmonds allowed himself a moment of happy contemplation. Margaret would be as relieved as he at the improvement in their situation: it was no easy thing raising two daughters and keeping an establishment on captain’s pay and two modest annuities. It was a pity the three of them had quit the depot for Norfolk when the regiment sailed for Portugal, for he had seen so little of them in the decade of war with Bonaparte, and news by letter would be flat . . .
And then he remembered there were others who would benefit from his free promotion. ‘Lennox will be obliged, as senior lieutenant, Colonel. He is nicely fitted for a troop.’
‘Capital.’
Two dragoons approached, throwing up sharp salutes as they passed.
‘I would speak with them, Edmonds, if you please.’
‘Crampton, Hardy!’
The two men spun about and stood at attention.
‘Your troop, Edmonds, I
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