Company Of Spears

The house dinner room was full, the window wall lined with KCBs and some more senior honours. They took the last table, in a dark corner but convenient for confidential talk, which Hervey at least was pleased with. A waiter brought the list.

‘Great heavens,’ growled Peto, holding it to the light. ‘There’s more crossed out than in! One soup, is there no fish?’

‘’Fraid not, sir,’ said the waiter, matter of fact. ‘We’s been uncommon busy tonight, sir; on account of the—’

‘Not even oysters?’

‘I can ask M’seur Franswar, sir.’

‘And who is he?’ asked Peto, suspiciously.

‘He is the new French cook, sir. Came on Monday.’

‘I’d be obliged. Good and devilled, if he will.’ He looked at his friend. ‘Yours, Hervey?’

Hervey had been studying the list – not that the alternatives before him required great concentration, except that the excisions were of the French dishes that Monsieur Francois had evidently introduced that very week. ‘Well, there is nothing for it but the vermicelly soup, and then the oysters, if there are any, and then the snipe pie, I think: it was good the last time I had it.’

Peto frowned. ‘I think it must be extraordinarily old snipe. Oh, very well. I had hoped for something more choice, but…’

‘You may have a beefsteak, of course, sir, or a chop.’

Peto shook his head. ‘Have the wine steward come, if you will.’

‘There’s a very serviceable burgundy,’ tried Hervey.

‘I am pleased for it, but if your regimen tomorrow will permit, I should prefer we take something more robust.’

Hervey nodded. If his old friend wished to fortify himself in anticipation of their lordships’ laying him up, then he had no objection to claret.

‘Damnable business, beached like some dismasted man o’ war, and at two-score years. Damnable. I applied to Hardy, you know, when I heard he was for Portugal.’

Lord Nelson’s flag captain commanded the naval force which had accompanied the army to Lisbon. Hervey would rather not have been reminded, but he decided to make light of it. ‘It was one of my several regrets that I never met him there. I think you would have been well to have been with him, for they’re bound to see action. The Miguelites are pushing hard again, I read. He had no opening for you?’

‘No, though he said he’d remember me to Blackwood, who’s to have the Nore.’

The butler came with his list. Peto assumed command, taking it and holding it to the light as if intent on studying every word.

‘If you will permit me, sir…’

‘I’m always glad of advice from someone who knows his cellar,’ replied Peto, now turning through the hocks and the burgundies until he found what he was looking for. ‘Is Ho Bryan ready?’

‘Oh, yes indeed, sir, very fine. Lord Exmouth and Sir Philip Broke have just taken a second bottle over there.’ He indicated a table at the further end of the room.

Peto looked with suitable reverence, and closed the list. ‘I can’t want for better recommendation.’ ‘Very good, sir.’

‘Frigate men, Hervey,’ he said as the butler withdrew. ‘Swift and bold. None better!’

‘Broke of the Shannon, is that?’

‘Ay,’ replied Peto, maintaining his watch and making no bones about it. ‘I wonder what brings them up?’

‘Do they serve still?’

Peto turned back to his friend. ‘Yes,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Though neither has an active command. Broke must be close to his flag: he’s been post-captain a long time. He was damnably wounded taking the Chesapeake. I wonder if that’s why he dines with Exmouth?’

Hervey knew how hard it must go with Peto, seeing a man promoted when he himself faced the Half-Pay List, albeit Broke was a captain older and much the senior.

The soup arrived, fortuitously, and a bottle, requiring Peto’s close attention.

He tried it, sucking the wine noisily across his tongue. ‘It is passable,’ he said gravely. ‘Though I would keep it another year. Open a second, if you will.’

When the waiter and the butler were gone, Peto gazed long again at Admiral the Viscount Exmouth and Captain Sir Philip Broke, as if they might reveal something of his own situation. Then frowning, intrigued, but with evident determination, he turned back to his old friend.

‘Imagine they are come with the sole intention of enjoying a good dinner,’ suggested Hervey, smiling.

Peto frowned even more. ‘I shall try.’ Then he resolved to hoist his spirits, and emptied his glass. ‘But you must tell me more of your prospects. How are your people?’

Hervey picked up a spoon and began stirring his soup. ‘They are very well, all.’

‘Your sister?’

‘Elizabeth especially.’

‘And Georgiana?’

‘Georgiana is very well. I intend she comes to live with me at Hounslow.’

Peto looked genuinely engaged by this news. ‘Indeed? That is very agreeable. And as it should be.’ He seemed then to hesitate. ‘And your sister shall come to live with you too?’

‘No,’ said Hervey, drawing out the word as if thinking it over. ‘Not for any length of time, to be exact. The truth is, Peto…’

‘Yes?’

He hesitated again. ‘The truth is … I intend marrying.’

His friend’s mouth fell open. ‘You have said nothing of this! Who?’