Coming up the stairs as he left his dressing room was Ayah Aaby, Sarah’s help, with a tray of tea. She looked confused on seeing him.
He stood aside, smiling, and beckoning her to pass. ‘Matiya vanakkam, ayah.’
She bowed rather anxiously. ‘Vanakkam, sahib.’
‘I come with you, ayah.’
She looked uncertain, but he took the tray and bid her lead on.
Kezia didn’t at first wake when they entered. He put down the tray as Aaby pulled back the gauze curtains and pushed wide the louvres.
Then her eyes opened.
Aaby lowered hers as she left.
It was an hour before they went to the nursery together. Master Hervey was not only in good health but in good voice, and his ayah evidently had the measure of both mother and child. After a while Allegra joined them. ‘His name is “Eyre”,’ she said – for Hervey was a stranger again – bringing mildly rebuking words of explanation from both Kezia and Annie; but he himself thought it amusing, for it was said kindly, and he could judge these things.
Afterwards they strolled in the gardens, then sat for an hour talking before it was time to dress. When he told Kezia that Major Garratt and the adjutant were to call, she said they must stay to dine: ‘Poor Edwin will have an empty homecoming otherwise, for he’s too senior to throw himself on the officers’ house, and without many acquaintances in the garrison yet, I doubt he can invite any to his own table.’
Her generosity warmed him the more.
It was true, he told her, and strange, also, how much he’d come to rely so surely on a man he’d never known before. Fortune, indeed, smiled on him very liberally now. Except, of course, he would soon lose St Alban, and there was no knowing if, or when, he could get Pearce to return.
‘And there’s another letter, which I didn’t mention,’ he said, and somewhat hesitantly. ‘Captain Fairbrother writes that he will come to Madras.’
Kezia put her hand on his. ‘That is the best of news. I think he must be the truest of companions.’
Her good opinion in that pleased him more than he could say. He could never have imagined it before. ‘And he’s of no little account in the field. I would have had great use for him in Coorg.’
‘There will be other occasions, I imagine.’
No doubt there would be. The Company did not keep an army in India to no purpose. Now, indeed, Fort St George – Fort William even – would have him leading every expedition there was against whatever nabob or dacoit had the effrontery to challenge their dominion.
The adjutant came carefully upon his hour, as an adjutant must (the major, he knew, would be a courteous quarter of an hour late). They went to the further end of the garden and sat in the bamboo chairs next to the rockery that Kezia had made in his absence, now the home of butterflies, which he’d not thought to see in Madras, believing it somehow too hot. The heat of the day had become the pleasant warmth of evening, however, so that the ice in their glasses – American ice, brought but an hour ago by a specially got-up tanga (and at a woeful price) – chilled the hock rather than just diluted it.
‘Now, Edward, you were minded to tell me something, and I put you off telling me. I confess I was somewhat preoccupied. Not displeasing news, I trust?’
‘I trust not, Colonel.’
‘Proceed.’
‘Well, I don’t know quite how to say this, Colonel – and perhaps I ought to have put it in writing …’
‘Good heavens, man, you’re not seeking redress of grievance, are you?’
St Alban looked rather abashed, joke that it was. ‘No, Colonel. Not at all. Not in the least. Quite the contrary.’
‘Well then, do not suspend the pleasure!’
‘I wish to beg leave to withdraw my resignation.’
With effort, Hervey managed to keep his countenance. There was no better thing he could have wished to hear, but … ‘Why? Upon what grounds?’
‘On the grounds, Colonel, that my earlier decision was based on poor judgement.’
‘Indeed? Explain.’
‘I had formed the view that our presence in India was inherently unjust, that we exploited the country solely for our own gain, and to its detriment, and—’
‘Wait. You have objection to the principle of trade?’
‘No, of course not, Colonel. Free and fair trade, that is.’
‘Then the new Act will be to your liking.’
The new Charter Act turned India into a colony and the Company from one of merchants into one of administrators.
‘It is one of the reasons I wish to retrieve my papers. If the Company no longer has a monopoly of trade, there is every reason to suppose any present ills may be cured. But I confess I see now, as I didn’t before, that we do good here, even if it is merely consequential on the Company’s trade. Now that it is to be a true administration, I think it will be wholly admirable, and I would be part of it.’
He did not say also, for he could not without breach of all propriety, that he’d formed such a regard for his commanding officer that he wished to serve here as long as may be.
Kezia came.
‘My dear, Mr St Alban is to stay with us after all. I confess to being a little pleased.’
Kezia expressed herself even more pleased. ‘I have seen little enough of my husband since we came here, Edward, and I would not wish him to spend a moment longer at office than need be.’
St Alban returned the smile. ‘I am doubly honoured, then, ma’am.’
When Somervile came, towards eight, the khitmagar brought a third bottle of champagne, since Major Garratt had arrived not long after St Alban’s vin d’honneur (Kezia had laid in a basket of Monsieur Moët’s best for Hervey’s return) and had found the ice, in his words, a blessed relief, no matter what its provenance.
‘St Alban is to remain with the regiment, Sir Eyre,’ explained Hervey.
‘Capital!’ replied Somervile, beginning on a long encomium to the Sixth.
Hervey’s thoughts, however, were with the Preacher once more, the son of David, king in Jerusalem: To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. There was for him, the soldier, in the end just the two: time of war, and time of peace. He’d seen much of war, and now he hoped to see something of peace – true peace. His wife was restored to him; he had a son; his daughter would join them soon, and his good friend likewise; he had command of that which had been his world for twenty-five years; the people about him were of his choosing, and he had friends close at hand and in London too. He had tasted generalship, and there was the promise of more – and honours. His world was complete.
It was the time to dance.
HISTORICAL AFTERNOTE
ESTIMATES PUT THE number of those involved in the disturbances in Bristol at between 5,000 and 10,000, though perhaps ‘only’ a thousand were active in Queen Square. The city’s infirmary recorded that twelve were killed during the rioting, ostensibly by the military, and 86 wounded. This is generally thought to be well short of the total, however, for many perished in the fires, while others crawled home to die of their wounds. The Bristol coroner’s records for the period are missing.
Once the authorities had re-established control, whole areas of the city were searched for stolen goods. In the subsequent trials, presided over by Sir Nicholas Tindal, Chief Justice of Common Pleas, 114 were indicted for riot, arson or theft. The death sentence was passed on 31, though this was commuted in all but four cases. The population of Australia received a boost.
All the silver at the Mansion House was recovered, with the exception of a large salver. An old woman, confined in the New Gaol on a charge of receiving plunder, hanged herself.
A Special Commission tried Mayor Pinney for negligence, and exonerated him. He seems to have acted with commendable resolve in what were probably the worst civil disturbances in modern history.
Captain Warrington was court-martialled and sentenced to be cashiered. He was, however, allowed to sell his commission i
nstead.
After Colonel Brereton’s suicide, his daughters, Catherine and Mary, were brought up by a great-uncle. Catherine died aged 11 in England; Mary, it seems, travelled to the Cape, whence her mother’s family came, and in 1847 married a cousin.
On 7 May 1834, Coorg was formally annexed to the East India Company’s territory. Nevertheless, there were misgivings in London, and the rajah was subsequently treated with no little consideration, being allowed to live in comfort in Benares. In 1852 he was permitted to come to England to argue for the return of his wealth. He was accompanied by his 11-year-old daughter Gouramma (spelled Gauromma in British newspapers at the time), and both were received by Queen Victoria. Indeed, in July Gouramma was baptized at Buckingham Palace by the Archbishop of Canterbury, with the Queen as one of her godparents. Known subsequently as Princess Victoria Gouramma, she was painted (beautifully as always) by Franz Winterhalter, and later photographed by Roger Fenton.
In 1860 she married a British officer, Colonel John Campbell, a widower with several sons, and in 1861 they had a daughter, Edith Victoria Gouramma Campbell. Princess Victoria Gouramma died in 1864, however, just a year after her father. She is buried at Brompton Cemetery, and he, the last Rajah of Coorg, at Kensal Green.
The officers of the 55th Regiment erected a memorial tablet to Lieutenant-Colonel Charles Mill in St Mary’s Church, Madras, where it remains today.
In the aftermath of the Indian Mutiny (1857), by the provisions of the Government of India Act 1858, the East India Company was nationalized and the Crown took over its Indian possessions, its administrative powers and its army and navy. Now began the period of the so-called British Raj.
MATTHEW PAULINUS HERVEY
BORN: 1791, second son of the Reverend Thomas Hervey, Vicar of Horningsham in Wiltshire, and of Mrs Hervey; one sister, Elizabeth.
EDUCATED: Shrewsbury School (praepostor)
MARRIED: 1817 to Lady Henrietta Lindsay, ward of the Marquess of Bath (deceased 1818). 1828 to Lady Lankester, widow of Lieutenant-Colonel Sir Ivo Lankester, Bart, lately commanding 6th Light Dragoons.
CHILDREN: a daughter, Georgiana, born 1818.
1808: commissioned cornet by purchase in His Majesty’s 6th Light Dragoons (Princess Caroline’s Own).
1809-14: served Portugal and Spain; evacuated with army at Corunna, 1809, returned with regiment to Lisbon that year; present at numerous battles and actions including Talavera, Badajoz, Salamanca, Vitoria.
1814: present at Toulouse; wounded Lieutenant.
1814-15: served Ireland, present at Waterloo, and in Paris with army of occupation.
1815: Additional ADC to the Duke of Wellington (acting captain); despatched for special duty in Bengal.
1816: saw service against Pindarees and Nizam of Hyderabad’s forces; returned to regimental duty. Brevet captain; brevet major.
1818: saw service in Canada; briefly seconded to US forces, Michigan Territory; resigned commission.
1819:reinstated, 6th Light Dragoons; captain.
1820-26: served Bengal; saw active service in Ava (wounded severely); present at Siege of Bhurtpore; brevet major. 1826-27: detached service in Portugal.
1827: in temporary command of 6th Light Dragoons, major; in command of detachment of 6th Light Dragoons at the Cape Colony; seconded to raise Corps of Cape Mounted Rifles; acting lieutenant-colonel; Umtata River; wounded.
1828: home leave.
1828: service in Natal and Zululand.
1829: attached to Russian army in the Balkans for observation in the war with Turkey.
1830: assumes command 6th Light Dragoons (Princess Augusta's Own) in substantive rank of lieutenant-colonel, Hounslow.
About the Author
ALLAN MALLINSON was a soldier for thirty-five years, serving first with the infantry and then the cavalry. He began writing while still serving. His first book was a history of four regiments of British light dragoons, one of whose descendant regiments he commanded. It was followed by A Close Run Thing, the first novel in the acclaimed and bestselling series chronicling the life of a fictitious cavalry officer, Matthew Hervey, before and after Waterloo. His The Making of the British Army was shortlisted for several prizes, while his centenary history, 1914: Fight the Good Fight, won the British Army’s Book of the Year Award. Its sequel, Too Important for the Generals, is a provocative look at strategy and leadership during the Great War. Allan Mallinson also writes for The Times, is history editor for UnHerd.com and reviews for the TLS and the Spectator. He lives on Salisbury Plain.
To find out more, visit www.allanmallinsonbooks.com
Also by Allan Mallinson
LIGHT DRAGOONS: THE MAKING OF A REGIMENT
THE MAKING OF THE BRITISH ARMY
1914: FIGHT THE GOOD FIGHT
TOO IMPORTANT FOR THE GENERALS
The Matthew Hervey titles
A CLOSE RUN THING
THE NIZAM’S DAUGHTERS
A REGIMENTAL AFFAIR
A CALL TO ARMS
THE SABRE’S EDGE
RUMOURS OF WAR
AN ACT OF COURAGE
COMPANY OF SPEARS
MAN OF WAR
WARRIOR
ON HIS MAJESTY’S SERVICE
WORDS OF COMMAND
THE PASSAGE TO INDIA
For more information on Allan Mallinson and his books, see his website at www.allanmallinsonbooks.com
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First published in Great Britain in 2018 by Bantam Press
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Copyright © Allan Mallinson 2018
Cover illustration by Robert Papp
Allan Mallinson has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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XXV: A Time to Mourn
fn1 ‘By this holy unction and his own most gracious mercy, may the Lord pardon you whatever sin you have committed …’
The Passage to India Page 33
