Words of Command (Hervey 12) (Matthew Hervey) by Allan Mallinson Page B
Authors: Allan Mallinson
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not mean that he was in the least condescending – quite the opposite – rather that he seemed perplexed by a dark skin and a plain coat in an otherwise very military retinue.’
‘You could scarcely call Johnson very “military”. And besides, neither your skin is dark nor your dress very plain. I am all envy of that collar, which the landlord must have seen when you came.’
Fairbrother had acquired a swatch of curly black wool from the Cossacks with whom they had ridden in the Levant, and had lost no time in having a coat of his trimmed with it (and a riding cloak too), though he joked that when his collar was turned up he looked like a Hottentot in want of a barber – which vexed Hervey, for it seemed to him that it was a device to claim that his friend was ever the stranger, when in truth he was more genuinely a kindred spirit than any man he knew. Fairbrother’s complexion was not that of a man who had spent his years in a library at Oxford, it was true (though neither was his own); but it was no darker than that of any man who had spent his years in the sun. Neither were his features anything like the Hottentot’s – only, perhaps, his hair, which tended to the tight curls of the lambskin, though it was brushed long and pomaded. No, there was nothing of the stranger, not to speak of; not to his eyes anyway. Indeed, if only Fairbrother could be induced to wear the King’s coat again, there would be no occasion for doubt.
‘Tomorrow I shall inspect the cellars,’ said the ‘Hottentot’ as he began ladling the soup.
‘A wise precaution. And I think I shall ask Malet to dine with us tomorrow – or the day after, if we’re detained at Maidenhead.’
‘Capital.’
‘I’m pleased Malet’s content with my scheme for keeping him at his desk for the time being. The business of the major’s leave of absence will take some resolution.’
‘How so?’
‘I fear he is of, shall we say, the country party.’
‘The “country party”?’
‘Forgive me. I meant that the major was evidently not on terms with Lord Hol’ness, and is perhaps not quite …
biddable
, as Johnson would say. In Walpole’s day the country party were ever agin the court – would do all manner of things to contest the King’s authority. It would be tiresome.’
Fairbrother raised his eyebrows. ‘A misfortune indeed.’
‘But one that might be overcome were
you
to purchase the majority from him.’
Fairbrother laid down his spoon and looked very directly at his friend. ‘Hervey, I should be content to be your valet, but not your major – as I have told you more than once. Even if your captains were to welcome it.’
Hervey smiled wryly and took a sip at his soup. ‘I will leave the matter for now.’
Fairbrother shrugged and picked up his spoon again. ‘Tell me instead of the regimental staff. Are you pleased with what you find?’
Hervey conceded the diversion. ‘In the main, yes, I am, though I met with only the paymaster today – Marciandi, come from the Maltese Regiment, who appears to have his doubts about the supper fund …’ And Fairbrother found himself suddenly trying to follow the peculiar economy of the Sixth’s institution of a third meal at public expense – an initiative of Lord Holderness’s and one that had brought warnings of ‘No good will come of it’ from all quarters beyond Hounslow.
Of the others of the staff, whom Hervey had met in passing at mess, he gave his friend the merest of pen pictures: the surgeon, Milne – a fine Aberdeen physician who had joined the 2nd Dragoons after his wife had died; the riding-master, Kewley, lately of the 7th Hussars – full of the gospel of St John’s Wood; and Lincoln of course – quartermaster
sans pareil
– of whom Fairbrother knew well already; and the veterinarian, Gaskoin – ‘not of the stamp the regiment has known of late, but I suppose he will serve.’
‘And you said there was a matter of distaste to you?’
Hervey sighed. ‘I
‘You could scarcely call Johnson very “military”. And besides, neither your skin is dark nor your dress very plain. I am all envy of that collar, which the landlord must have seen when you came.’
Fairbrother had acquired a swatch of curly black wool from the Cossacks with whom they had ridden in the Levant, and had lost no time in having a coat of his trimmed with it (and a riding cloak too), though he joked that when his collar was turned up he looked like a Hottentot in want of a barber – which vexed Hervey, for it seemed to him that it was a device to claim that his friend was ever the stranger, when in truth he was more genuinely a kindred spirit than any man he knew. Fairbrother’s complexion was not that of a man who had spent his years in a library at Oxford, it was true (though neither was his own); but it was no darker than that of any man who had spent his years in the sun. Neither were his features anything like the Hottentot’s – only, perhaps, his hair, which tended to the tight curls of the lambskin, though it was brushed long and pomaded. No, there was nothing of the stranger, not to speak of; not to his eyes anyway. Indeed, if only Fairbrother could be induced to wear the King’s coat again, there would be no occasion for doubt.
‘Tomorrow I shall inspect the cellars,’ said the ‘Hottentot’ as he began ladling the soup.
‘A wise precaution. And I think I shall ask Malet to dine with us tomorrow – or the day after, if we’re detained at Maidenhead.’
‘Capital.’
‘I’m pleased Malet’s content with my scheme for keeping him at his desk for the time being. The business of the major’s leave of absence will take some resolution.’
‘How so?’
‘I fear he is of, shall we say, the country party.’
‘The “country party”?’
‘Forgive me. I meant that the major was evidently not on terms with Lord Hol’ness, and is perhaps not quite …
biddable
, as Johnson would say. In Walpole’s day the country party were ever agin the court – would do all manner of things to contest the King’s authority. It would be tiresome.’
Fairbrother raised his eyebrows. ‘A misfortune indeed.’
‘But one that might be overcome were
you
to purchase the majority from him.’
Fairbrother laid down his spoon and looked very directly at his friend. ‘Hervey, I should be content to be your valet, but not your major – as I have told you more than once. Even if your captains were to welcome it.’
Hervey smiled wryly and took a sip at his soup. ‘I will leave the matter for now.’
Fairbrother shrugged and picked up his spoon again. ‘Tell me instead of the regimental staff. Are you pleased with what you find?’
Hervey conceded the diversion. ‘In the main, yes, I am, though I met with only the paymaster today – Marciandi, come from the Maltese Regiment, who appears to have his doubts about the supper fund …’ And Fairbrother found himself suddenly trying to follow the peculiar economy of the Sixth’s institution of a third meal at public expense – an initiative of Lord Holderness’s and one that had brought warnings of ‘No good will come of it’ from all quarters beyond Hounslow.
Of the others of the staff, whom Hervey had met in passing at mess, he gave his friend the merest of pen pictures: the surgeon, Milne – a fine Aberdeen physician who had joined the 2nd Dragoons after his wife had died; the riding-master, Kewley, lately of the 7th Hussars – full of the gospel of St John’s Wood; and Lincoln of course – quartermaster
sans pareil
– of whom Fairbrother knew well already; and the veterinarian, Gaskoin – ‘not of the stamp the regiment has known of late, but I suppose he will serve.’
‘And you said there was a matter of distaste to you?’
Hervey sighed. ‘I
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