After a further interminable moment, the King made an unmistakable bow of dismissal. Hervey saluted, reined back three steps, turned to the right and began his return to the rear. As he passed the first of the two carriages – a pony phaeton – drawn forward of the rest, he turned his head left and saluted. Its occupant, a child of about Georgiana’s age, with long ringlets and a large velvet cap, smiled. Hervey, taken by pleasant surprise (a relief following the King’s uncongeniality), returned the smile with a will, which he then found himself embarrassed by when turning his salute to the occupant of the second carriage, Princess Augusta of Saxe-Coburg. She looked at him with amusement, having seen the smile which Princess Victoria had drawn, as if in some conspiracy of indiscipline. It was a look he might have seen in the face of Henrietta.
When all the officers had been presented, and had retaken their places – Fairbrother the last – the King and his party began taking their leave.
‘Dragoons, three cheers for His Majesty the King: hip, hip, hip!’
‘Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!’
The carriages wheeled right, the King raised his hat, and the trumpeters sounded the royal salute.
‘Not an especially happy king, I should say,’ suggested Hervey, recovering his sabre.
‘I do not suppose I would know,’ replied Fairbrother, a little archly. ‘Was the “Merry Monarch” so very cheery?’
‘You are at times very contrary.’
‘I could not admit it. But I
When the formal dismissals were made, Lord Holderness assembled his principal officers under one of the many great elms in the home park, and read them the general’s orders for the manoeuvres:
Information.
He continued through the various special instructions, the method of communicating with the divisional headquarters (as the general’s orderly room was to be known), the limits of manoeuvre, paroles and the like. Hervey could not but mark how different was the scene from the old days, in the Peninsula and Belgium, for every officer was studying his map, and a good map too – one of the Ordnance Survey’s admirable new sheets. They had had nothing its like in the French war.
‘How great an obstacle is the river?’ whispered Fairbrother. The two sat to the rear of the active officers (his friend already beginning to fret at his status as a mere observer).
‘You saw it as we crossed at Eton, though not so wide as there,’ whispered Hervey in reply. ‘But the rain will have swelled it to some consequence.’
Lord Holderness now laid aside the orders. ‘Well, gentlemen, as you perceive, a straightforward enough assignment, though by no means easy – which, I conclude, is the general’s purpose. We have a bridge to capture, three or so leagues upstream, and by five o’clock tomorrow morning. That is the long and the short of it. I would hear your opinion in the matter.’
It was not unknown for a commanding officer to consult with his troop leaders before action; nevertheless Hervey thought such candour augured well, for many a new man (and this was Lord Holderness’s first manoeuvres with the regiment) would have wished to display early his own mind and will.
Captain Myles Vanneck, in temporary command of First Squadron, spoke at once to the essence of the matter. ‘Colonel, do we believe the “enemy” is of a mind that the river is impassable? Since if he does, he will expect that we have no option but to make a direct assault on the bridge.’
Lord Holderness nodded. ‘As soon as I learned the general scheme of things this morning I sent the riding-master and his staff to reconnoitre the river as far as they might, and to look for boats. They report that every one has been tied up on the far bank or else placed in bond, so to speak, by the general’s staff. The riding-master believes that swimming is too perilous an undertaking: the river is swelled to a great speed. He likens it to the Esla.’
