Hervey 11 - On His Majesty's Service by Allan Mallinson Page A

done with it now.
    ‘I am greatly flattered.’
    But Hervey intended no flattery, only the truth. ‘Fairbrother, let me speak plainly. I should esteem it the greatest good fortune if you accompanied me either to Hounslow or to Gibraltar – or, frankly, to anywhere else His Majesty is pleased to post me.’
    Fairbrother, for once inclined to cast off insouciance, clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. But there was increase in his sportive humour nevertheless. ‘Might we conditionally visit the Fifty-third’s tailor then, and lay a swatch of red cloth across your breast?’
    Hervey was inclined to enter the spirit of archness. ‘ Scarlet cloth.’
    Fairbrother smiled, conceding the point. ‘Ah, yes – scarlet. It seemed to me in the Royal Africans that the distinction lay solely in the fastness of the dye. A private man’s red coat was a pale affair after a good soaking, whereas an officer’s scarlet remained true – an allegory, as it were, of devotion to duty.’
    ‘The burgundy makes you excessively poetic. I have no intention of visiting the Fifty-third’s tailor. A red coat’s a red coat, and I fancy I can imagine what a button with “fifty-three” on it looks like – as opposed to one with “fifty-two”, or whatever it might otherwise be.’
    The calls of the flower sellers – which with little other than greenery to sell were more importunate than those of the costers – were now intruding on their conversation, so that both men had to raise their voices to continue. ‘Even so, what a world apart are those two buttons. Would not the Fifty-second tempt you dearly?’
    The Fifty-second – the ‘Oxfordshire Light Infantry’ – had been with Moore and the Light Brigade at Shorncliffe, and then Corunna; they were (they considered themselves, at least) an elite. Hervey was certainly tempted to agree with his friend – if only for the purpose of silencing him on the subject of red coats. ‘The Fifty-second would tempt anyone.’
    A flower seller, pretty, Italian-looking, in a cloak with the hood thrown back, stepped in front of Fairbrother, bringing both men to a halt. ‘Buy these snowdrops from a poor, frozen flower girl, captain,’ she said, in a curious mixture of the accent of the streets and somewhere more distant. ‘It’s bitter cold, captain, and I needs buy a hot supper.’
    Fairbrother reached instinctively inside his coat for his pocket-book, before realizing that coin was more appropriate.
    Hervey wondered why the girl had made his friend the object of her entreaty and not him. Was it the affinity of a similar complexion (for he observed that hers was not much lighter than Fairbrother’s), or did his friend possess a more generous countenance? More susceptible, even?
    ‘How much?’ asked Fairbrother, purse in hand.
    ‘Sixpence, if you please, captain.’
    ‘ Sixpence? ’ said Hervey, astonished.
    The girl turned to her questioner. ‘Why, sir, they’re picked this morning and brought a good long way,’ she replied disarmingly.
    ‘Here’s a shilling,’ said Fairbrother, taking no notice. ‘Two bunches, if you please. That will buy a hot supper will it not?’
    ‘It will, captain. God bless you.’ She handed him the snowdrops with a smile that might have been genuine.
    He took them and then gave a bunch back to her. ‘Put these in a window to brighten it.’
    ‘Oh, thank you sir,’ she thrilled. ‘And a very good evening to you.’
    Fairbrother raised his cap as she stood aside to let them pass.
    Hervey said nothing until he was sure they were out of earshot. ‘I will say that I have been similarly done to in the past, but never more charmingly. I dare say we’ll be lucky to make it from the market without having to give a shilling to every girl. She’ll be telling them all this very moment.’
    ‘Oh, I’d reckon not,’ replied Fairbrother, in a knowing sort of way. ‘She’ll wish to sell us a bunch tomorrow if we’re passing. Why tell others and spoil her