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

made corporal a year ago, won “Sabre and Carbine” and did sar’nt-major’s orderly corporal for the annual inspection.’
    Hervey did recollect: a fine-looking man who might pass for an officer of sorts in plain clothes. And if he had won ‘Sabre and Carbine’ – even in the absence of the competition of his own troop at the Cape – then he was a good prospect for coverman. ‘Where are D?’
    ‘Guildford. I can send for him today if you wish it.’
    Although the adjutant had the authority to act on the commanding officer’s behalf in all matters, Hervey would have preferred the courtesy of asking Lord Holderness. Time was pressing, however; a letter would have to suffice. ‘If you would. Now, to return to the reduction in the regiment: is Lord Hol’ness intending to issue any orders?’
    Malet shook his head. ‘He scarce had time to tell me what the Horse Guards were thinking. He understood there would be nothing decided presently, and in any case he thought it rightly a business first for the colonel.’
    ‘Indeed so. Has there been any communication with Lord George?’
    ‘By the Horse Guards? I cannot say. Lord Hol’ness has not yet written – or rather, he gave me no letter before leaving. As I said, he was told somewhat irregularly, just before leaving for the north. You do know that Lord George is at this time in Canada?’
    ‘I did not know. How so? For how long?’
    ‘He’s gone to inspect the defences at Fort York on behalf of the Ordnance. I can’t say when he’ll return, only that in September he’s to hold a levee for the colonel-in-chief.’
    Hervey groaned inwardly: the absences seemed to be conspiring against him. And he knew he had stretched Malet’s loyalty as far as he ought: these were properly matters for the commanding officer, even if their consequences would – might – be his. ‘Then I must write to Lord Hol’ness and trust that we shall be able to meet over the business before I embark for the East. Meanwhile, might we speak, you and I, about the sar’nt-major?’
    Fairbrother rose. ‘With your leave, gentlemen, I will take a turn around the barracks.’
    Malet stood and made to open the door for him.
    ‘No, permit me,’ said Fairbrother, a shade abashed. ‘I will look over the stables if that is in order.’
    Malet bowed. ‘By all means, Captain Fairbrother. And you are at liberty, of course, to take your ease in the officers’ house.’ He turned to Hervey: ‘You will lunch here, sir?’
    Hervey nodded.
    Fairbrother had no special desire to look over the stables. He had seen the Sixth’s troop horses in the summer and he did not suppose they were in any way changed in the six months since then – what few remained here (except that he had a passing interest in how the Sixth shaved their troopers). His reason for leaving the adjutant’s office was simply to spare both men the discomfort of speaking of a matter of regimental delicacy within his hearing. Besides, he knew exactly what was Hervey’s opinion. Instead of the stables, therefore, he went at once to the officers’ house.
    It was empty, although it had the signs of occupancy. There was a good fire, and a copy of that day’s Times on the writing table, in which he was happy to engross himself for an hour or so until his friend was satisfied with what arrangements he could make, or influence. He had no need of refreshment, so did not seek out the servants. He would read the news in every detail.
    But almost as soon as he had taken up the paper he laid it down again. He was not given greatly to introspection – at least, not recently – but he began wondering about his welcome at Hounslow. He had been most civilly received at dinner, paid compliments by the commanding officer, no less, and every captain and subaltern had shaken his hand. And this morning, too, the adjutant had received him with the greatest courtesy. Was all this not, however, an exaggerated politeness, a way of asserting superiority