Company Of Spears

Hervey inclined his head. His guess had indeed been apt. ‘Then I must take up the violin, ma’am, like the Duke of Wellington.’

She frowned. ‘Then I would that you practised at a good distance from me, Major Hervey!’

It was strange, he thought: there were moments when Kezia Lankester seemed to be sporting with him, and with a distinct coyness – and then there would come a remark whose edge was decidedly cutting. But these were surroundings unfamiliar to her, and she had been widowed but a year …

Their hostess joined them, full of praise for Kezia’s singing, and Hervey was able to content himself with the odd nod and word of agreement for a quarter of an hour. Then, as the first of the squires’ ladies began gathering herself to depart, Kezia took a rather formal leave of her hostess, and withdrew.

The following day, Saturday, there was no hunting; or rather, the Fitzhardinge hounds were meeting with Lord Croome’s, too far distant to drive. Instead the party spent the morning at archery. Hervey had not held a bow since his youth, and it took him a good deal of practice before attaining any consistent accuracy. Both Emma and her husband were capable – they had practised regularly in India – but the true proficient was Kezia Lankester, which was evident the instant she picked an arrow. Without the slightest ostentation she first examined the fletch, then held it to her right eye to look down the shaft. She took up one of the bows, flexed it and drew back the string twice, fitted the arrow, raised it to the aim at fifty yards (ignoring the nearer target positioned for the novices) and loosed it. The arrow flew straight, striking high on the straw roundel. She took another, corrected her point of aim and then loosed again. It struck in the centre of the bull’s-eye, and with greater force than the first.

Hervey was at once impressed. Kezia Lankester had not merely corrected with a view to making a second and final correction, she had made the one adjustment and then loosed with certainty. Arrow after arrow of hers now struck firm, all within the six-inch white circle. Hervey was now captivated, for not only was the proficiency evidence of much application (as well as of a ‘martial’ side which stood in pleasing balance with the cultivated), the archer’s posture and the drawing of the bow were admirably suited to displaying the female figure to advantage, its tautness of abdomen and prominence of breast. In Kezia Lankester’s profile there was nothing of the mystery of the Bengal beauties (of Vaneeta, indeed), nor of the allure of Isabella Delgado, nor even of the statuary of Kat dressed for the Court, elegant but sensuous; yet he found the constrained grace powerfully attractive – reinforcing, strongly reinforcing, his resolve to make her an offer of marriage sooner rather than later.

Indeed, he was now resolved to do so before leaving Sezincote. He was certain he must, for he could have little opportunity to press his suit later; she would return to Hertfordshire and he to Hounslow, and thence…? He could only hope that he had at least established his worth in her estimation, engaged her respect and interest. He would not, of course, expect an answer at once (let alone acceptance), but he would, in the parlance of the colony to which his great friends were bound, at least have staked a claim. She would have ample time to consider it, see its merits, come to believe that it was seemly (he was not without position and prospects, after all, even if he was perennially short of means). First, however, he would have to find the favourable moment to acquaint her with his proposal.

* * *

That afternoon the ladies of the party went visiting to the almshouses and with a new curate. Hervey and Somervile rode out together towards Evesham.

‘I’ve been thinking over the Waltham Abbey business,’ began Somervile as they started climbing the steep, wooded slopes beyond the house. ‘I confess to being doubtful of your conclusions when first you told me last night, but I’m inclined now to think you may have something. There’s a deal of resentment regarding the Catholic Association. I hear it frequently. Peel stays his hand as far as the suppression law’s concerned, but he’d not be able to resist the clamour following an outrage on English soil.’

‘That was the basis of my supposition,’ replied Hervey, rather surprised that Somervile seemed not to have appreciated his own sensibility.

‘But I hadn’t myself come to any conclusions hitherto; it’s one thing knowing the price of corn is high and quite another to judge the true political consequences. The point is, the business in Portugal may not be entirely unconnected.’

Hervey was intrigued. ‘How so?’

‘The government gives every impression of dither over the intervention, perhaps fearful of drawing the sword there with a discontented Ireland by our side.’

‘I had not considered that.’

‘You should dine more in St James’s; or even Bloomsbury.’