Many of the Officers of the 5th Provisionals rode there on horseback, but an equal number elected to walk, which included Captain Carr and Lieutenant Drake, their billet in the town being just a few minutes away. The walk had been a pleasant stroll, but the conversation was, as usual, wholly one sided, with Ned Drake extolling the virtues of his dearest Cecily Fynings. He extracted from Carr a promise to dance with her once or twice, so that no one could accuse him of monopolising her. They reached the fine portico of the entrance and, before making an entry, they checked their uniforms and brushed any adhering dust off their carefully polished boots.
At this point arrived Carravoy and D’Villiers, wishing to make a show, both on their fine mounts, which were burnished to rival the black carriages that had preceded them. With a flourish both dismounted and handed the reins to the ostlers, then mounted the steps, to observe Carr and Drake making the final rounds of their uniforms. D’Villiers was as good as his word, he had sent for his “best togs” and he certainly looked the part in white doeskin breeches, high black boots with a golden tassel at the peak and his immaculately tailored Lieutenant’s jacket. Carravoy, of equal means, matched him stitch for stitch and it was himself who made the quip, as they passed Carr and Drake, about “high society Officers being most fit for high society occasions”. Carr thought about a reply but let it go, even more so when the next carriage brought Colonel Jamieson and Captain Tavender to the steps, both dazzling in their mid blue Light Cavalry dress uniform, with tthe fur trimmed pelisse jacket hanging, as required, across one shoulder by the regulation golden cord. Carr and Drake immediately came to attention and saluted at the sight of a Colonel’s uniform, but in return came neither reply nor acknowledgment. Instead the two stalked past, on and into the interior. Carr looked at Drake; he was annoyed at such a snub, which ran wholly counter to any military etiquette he had been brought up with, and he followed the pair with angry eyes as they vanished through the imposing doorway.
“Oh, like that, is it? Right.”
Drake picked up his tone of annoyance.
“Never mind, what’s it matter? Cavalry always have had a strange idea of superiority. Why should those two be any different? I expect they were worried that if they saluted then that weird jacket thing they wear might fall off! Or slip to the wrong angle. Come on, let’s get inside, there might be something to eat.”
Carr was soothed and regarded his companion amicably.
“You and your stomach.”
Both entered and felt the warmth already building from a thousand candles and hundreds of humans. They both took their place in the queue that was waiting to be greeted by their host, the General, who was stood with his wife and Jane, his daughter. Carr and Jane Perry noticed each other at the same moment and Carr felt his spirits lift at the light that came into her face as she saw him and returned his gaze. At the appropriate moment she stepped forward.
“Father, may I introduce Captain Henry Carr and Lieutenant Nathaniel Drake. You may remember them from the Christmas just passed. They sang in Lady Constance’s choir.”
General Perry did not offer his hand.
“Yes, I remember Captain Henry Carr, but not for that reason. Still in the Army, are you, Carr? Not resigned again?”
Carr felt his teeth clamp together, but he relaxed his jaw enough to answer.
“No, Sir. I’m still here, Sir, and ready to do my duty.”
“Hmmm, yes, as are many others. However, I suppose I need to thank you for that set of Cromwellian armour you sent.”
Carr felt no need to remove the cold edge to his voice.
“Yes, Sir. I hope that you are pleased with it. I thought it belonged to one of Cromwell’s Ironsides, and I hope it was complete.”
“This time you are right on both counts. Now, I wish you both a pleasant evening.”
General Perry turned abruptly to his next guest as Drake spoke his thanks, but Carr took a step on, to deliver a bow to Mrs Perry and Jane together that was returned with delicate curtsies. Once inside Drake quickly spied out Cecily and no soldier ever marched a straighter line to take himself to his objective, taking Carr in tow. Cecily was with her parents and the introductions were made. Drake soon went off with Cecily to investigate the whereabouts of anything to eat, leaving Carr with her parents. Her Mother turned to Carr.
“I understand that you sang in my sister’s choir, Captain Carr.”
“How kind of you, ma’am, to call it singing! But, yes, I did, Christmas just gone. It was very enjoyable, and a welcome escape from Army routine. I would go so far as to say, but with only comments afterwards to judge by, that we made a reasonably agreeable sound. I credit Lady Constance with that, she is a very fine Choir Mistress.”
Mr Fynings took over.
“And you’re off to fight the French soon, eh, Captain?”
“Yes Sir. We march out tomorrow, to embark at Weymouth. More than that I cannot say, for I do not know.”
“Eager to capture a couple of Eagles, eh?”
Carr couldn’t bring himself to humour so ignorant a question, but politeness required at lest some measure of indulgence.
“One can only hope, Sir, but my understanding is that they are held deep within any French column that carries one. They don’t always, and a French column is a tough nut to get into. I’ll be happy to see them turn around and carry it away.”
“Now, now. No modesty, let’s have some ambition. They’re only a bunch of Frenchmen. Frogs and crapauds! No match for the likes of you.”
“I can only say that I hope to justify your confidence, Mr Fynings. One thing I can say for certain is that Napoleon’s men don’t give best too easily, but we are determined not to let anybody down.”
“Napoleon! Despicable damned little jumped up Corporal. He made himself an Emperor when he started life with no more than one pair of breeches. If I …….”
Mrs Fynings interrupted.
“No politics, you promised! Captain Carr doesn’t want an argument, he wants a pleasant evening. Tomorrow he marches away.”
Carr had had enough.
“Yes, ma’am. Politics and soldiering really don’t mix. One is too subtle to mix with the other that is too certain. But I’ve seen someone I was hoping to meet. If you’ll excuse me? It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”
He bowed and left. There was no one that he had seen, but he wanted a drink and wondered if Drake had found something to eat. He looked for Jane Perry, but she was nowhere within sight, perhaps still greeting guests with her parents. That was true, for Jane Perry and her Mother were standing stead for their Father. He had gone to a side room with Colonel Lacey who had been “summoned” to attend the Ball. The conversation was not social, in fact, all such niceties were dispensed with, frozen by the frigid atmosphere between them. It began with General Perry handing Colonel Lacey a packet of papers.
“Those are your marching orders, Lacey. At Weymouth, you are to meet Captain Fallway of HMS Ipheion, he is your escort, and Captain Smallcombe of the Bidewell, he is your Senior Captain. Your other two transports are the Llewellyn and the Tansy. The last two are smaller than the Bidewell, but not by much. You will receive further orders once you are on board, but they are not to be opened until you are well out to sea. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir. Perfectly.”
“Buonaparte has spies everywhere, and secrecy must be protected at all times.”
He looked coldly, almost angrily at Lacey.
“So, Lacey, they’re keeping you together. As a Provisional Battalion.”
“Yes, Sir. We remain as a unit. I’m quite content. I feel that we have built up sufficient cohesion and, as for musketry,……
“I don’t agree!”
“Sir?”
“First, I didn’t forget that damn shambles when you tried to form square. I wrote to Horse Guards immediately after, recommending your being broken up and sent to reinforce Line Regiments that are under strength. It seems Horse Guards think otherwise. Desperate times
require desperate measures, it would seem. Perhaps your final orders will show that they have adopted my recommendation. Secondly and above all, I don’t like your appointments. Carr should not be Captain of a Senior Company, he’s far too unpredictable, and D’Villiers should be in a Senior Company, with the rank of Brevet Captain, under a Gazetted Captain, such as Carravoy, whom I would earmark for Brevet Major when the possibility arises. Both are from good families with the right background. D’Villiers especially has been abominably treated. I know you leave tomorrow, but I want you to be aware of my opinion before you embark. I think you’ve done a poor job and my prediction is disaster.”
“Sir. This is neither the time nor the place to debate this in detail. I don’t know what your experience is, but mine has been to serve through the only major war that this country has lost. Defeat teaches lessons, and I have tried to put into practice what I have learnt. I am prepared to stand by my decisions, Sir, come what may. I have made my judgement and I will carry the consequences. Now, if there is nothing further, Sir, I still have arrangements to make for tomorrow’s march. My regards to your wife. I bid you good-night.”
Lacey moved to the table to collect his shako, cloak and gloves, leaving Perry to talk to his back.
“I still say you’re not up to it, Lacey, and time will prove me right. My advice is; take no risks. They’ll fail you!”
By the time Perry had finished his last condemnation, Lacey had his cloak on and had his shako containing his gloves tucked under his arm. Standing by the door, he turned to face Perry, his face bearing the anger that he felt. He saluted and left.
oOo
Carr found Drake and Cecily at the buffet table and selected some of the items displayed. None were what might be called delicacies; all were rather what might be called “solid, from a good Officer’s Mess”. Carr stood, mostly silent, whilst Drake and Cecily indulged themselves in frivolous, but to them deeply important, conversation. Carr looked around. At least two thirds of the male guests were in uniform, many of them familiar to him from the 5th. Carravoy and D’Villiers stood by the fireplace, both drinking, D’Villiers with a disdainful expression, aping the dandy, left arm on hip, elbow jutting out, glass in right hand held before his face at just the correct jaunty angle, right boot up on the fender.
Carr grinned inwardly at the display, but the mood was soon lost. For him the evening was not going well, and he felt it. When the orchestra started up, Drake and Cecily disappeared, leaving him to his own devices. He wandered between the rooms, meeting one or two people that he knew, fellow Officers, and engaged in conversation with them that inevitably was concerned with their embarkation and where they might be going. He thought about dancing, but with the preponderance of male soldiery, very few females that may even want to dance remained without a partner. More wandering of rooms ensued until he stopped before a picture that looked like a depiction of a battle scene from the Monmouth Rebellion. He approached to study it more closely and was examining the detail, when the voice he recognised from all others spoke from behind.
“Not just books, Captain Carr, but a student of art, also.”
He turned and there she was, and she brought a second smile to his face, just as the sight of her had brought the first.
“Ah, yes, well, perhaps not the style and composition and whatnot, more the subject. Soldiers have, after all, more than a passing interest for me.”
A pause and one studied the other. She spoke first, her voice carrying genuine concern.
“How are you, Henry?”
“I’m well. Vigorous soldiering, you see. Good for any constitution.”
The both laughed, then the pause again. Carr’s turn to break the silence.
“I was hoping very much to see you again. I hope that you are well. It’s been a long time, well, since Christmas!”
“I was hoping just as much to see you. Did you get the book I sent?”
“I read it.”
“What did you think of it?”
Carr looked around, hoping not to see Drake.
“Erm, well, he writes all round a lot of things. Clearly a man who thinks a lot, and he likes the word “Effusion”.
She laughed, “You hated it!”
“Well, no. Well, a bit. I did get to the end, however. I did give it a full go and I did read “Lines on a Friend” twice.”
He paused, whilst she smiled.
“Truth is, I prefer history to novels or poetry. That’s how it is, I’m sorry, I wish I could speak better of it.”
“Never mind, at least we got you to read it. Anyway, Father was pleased with the armour you sent. He spent ages polishing it and fitting it around a dummy. It’s now in his study. Pride of place! And he’s having the cloth and leather bits made, whatever they are.”
“I’m pleased to hear that, because it frightened the life out of the soldier who found it. He fell on top of it, complete with its original occupant inside.”
Her face showed genuine concern.
“What did you do? With the original occupant, I mean?”
“We buried him on the spot, or at least my men did. I’m sure it was the right thing. He’s amongst his comrades. Most soldiers would want it that way.”
Her face grew fearful.
“So many end that way, away from home. Is that what you would want?
His own expression changed to mirror her concern.
“Yes. Absolutely. The men at your shoulder in battle are special to you. That’s how it is.”
He paused and tried to smile.
“Enough of all that, this is more morbid than your famous “Effusions”! This is a Ball, and perhaps we should dance. Shall we go into the ballroom and see if there is any room. Hey, that rhymes! Coleridge would have been proud.”
She laughed, “No it doesn’t rhyme. They’re the same word!”
She took his arm and they followed the sound of the music. In the ballroom the military orchestra were volleying out a Muzurka. They joined in and Jane proved to be an expert dancer, whilst Carr made a reasonable fist of keeping his place. He, however, made a thorough hash of the Quadrille that followed, but counted it a draw when he completed a Polonaise with some style. He heard with gratitude the call for the main buffet and they took their places to wait, during which Carr held forth about Army food, especially on campaign. Each was obtaining a necessary plate, when General Perry came to them both, clearly not content with developments. Carr he ignored.
“Jane, there is someone that I wish you to meet. Never mind the food, you can get some later.” This reinforced by his hand through her upper arm to lead her away. The General turned to Carr, his tone dismissive, barely giving Carr a glance.
“You will excuse us, Captain Carr, but I need Jane elsewhere.”
Carr fully felt the contempt in both the voice and face of the General and felt no need for excessive courtesy, nor to reassure him about the future.
“Of course, General. It has been a pleasure to meet you again, Miss Perry. I hope we can meet again before we march away.”
“I hope so too, Captain Carr. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’m needed elsewhere?”
Carr bowed to both, but not before he had caught the anxiety in her eyes. However, the General was impatient.
“Perhaps, but I doubt it. Now, we go, Jane, if you please.” She was led away.
Carr studied the food before him on the table, trying to make a choice, even whether to choose anything. His deliberations were interrupted by a voice from the far side of the table, again one he recognised, but with a very different reaction.
“You seem out of favour with the General, Captain Carr. Not fit company for his daughter, was it?”
Carr raised his eyes to see Captain Tavender, still resplendent in his dress uniform, an amused and insulting look still on his face, which matched his tone. Carr changed his gaze to the uniform itself. It was the most amazing collection of brocade and embroidery, cords and arrows going in all directions, doubled by the pelisse j
acket.
“Well, Captain Tavender, at least in my uniform I look like an escort, however much in passing, rather than someone who needs to be carefully chaperoned and escorted onto the dance floor!”
He returned his plate and walked away, giving Tavender no further regard. He kept moving, in black mood, wondering whether to return to their billet, but he remembered that this was his last night in England and he should make the best of it. Luckily he found Drake and Cecily, both at the peak of cheerfulness and his spirits rose.
“Ah, Henry. There you are. Cecily wants to dance with you. Something about higher military rank causing a move up the social strati. She’s decided I’m too lowly.”
“You’re talking nonsense again, Nathaniel, be quiet! Yes, Captain Carr, I must insist that you honour me with a dance.”
“The honour is all mine, Miss Fynings, but I can only hope that it is not a Quadrille. I’ve just made a most fearful jumble of one of those.”
Drake had been listening.
“So you have been dancing, not prowling about like some “out of sorts” bear. With whom?”
“You can guess, I feel sure,” and he and Cecily joined the lines for a Polonaise, to Carr’s great relief. However, that was short lived. Tavender was in the line and clearly smarting at Carr’s earlier jibe. As they passed, and it was quite often, Tavender lost no opportunity to deliver a goading “hurry up, Carr”, “close the line”, “must be quick”. For the sake of Cecily, who was thoroughly enjoying the moves involved, as was her nature, Carr said nothing, but he was grateful when the music ended and he escorted her back to Drake. However, Tavender was not done. He followed Carr and, whilst stood behind him, leaned over to say into his ear,
Worth Their Colours (105th Foot. The Prince of Wales Own Wessex Regiment.) Page 26
