81. Lunch with Captain Carter

Richard and I lunched together. After we had dined, I asked him whether he had met Thomas Raine, who had purchased the rank of Lt.-Colonel in the 27th Foot.

"Of course, Your Grace. It would have been difficult to have been anywhere in the Peninsular and not to have been aware of Colonel Raine. I take it that you served with him?"

"In the West Indies. We must have crossed - he must have arrived in Portugal as I left for England. Were you there, sir?"

Richard Carter knew exactly what I meant, had he been in the fight where Raine had been killed?

"It was where I lost this." He gestured with his forefinger at the stump of his arm. "Our battalion was ordered to take a hamlet on the flank of the army's advance.

"As we progressed, our advance was suddenly stalled in an olive grove, where we were crossing a wall in the face of French musket fire. Of a sudden, we were flanked. The colour party were decimated, Colonel Raine picked up the regimental colour, the Regimental Sergeant-Major picked up the King's colour and the two of them formed an island in the middle of it all. With the men that were left to them, they stood firm. The enemy were piled up around them.

"The French had driven a wedge into our column, the colonel and his men were on one side by the wall, and the rest of us were prevented from reaching them by the intrusion of the French. All order in our column was thrown away, the companies intermingled. Captain Bolton of the Grenadier Company, gathered the remaining part of the battalion and led us forwards towards the colours.

"I never saw our men fight better sir, never." He said slowly, reliving the fight in his head as he spoke, his body unconsciously moving in a vague memory of his actions. "They were ferocious, each man a lion in a red coat. It was all bayonet work. Bayonets, musket butts and fists. Ferocious, to a man.

"Sadly, even as we reached them, Colonel Raine fell from his wounds."

"But the colours were saved?" I asked, Captain Carter nodded. A regiment's colours are its heart and soul, and by his actions Raine had saved the 27th from the greatest ignominy known to the British army - the loss of their colours. "And your part in this, sir?"

"Mine?" Richard Carter laughed, ironically. "I was carried along by it, caught up in the assault trying to reach our colours. I scarcely recall a moment of it, it was so intense as we fought and bit and clawed our way towards the colours. So intense, so fierce was it that I do not even recall being struck. Not until it was all done, and I collapsed from the loss of blood."

I stood up, Captain Carter doing the same. I offered him my right hand and we shook.

"Captain." It was all I could say. Even after all the months away from it, I had great emotions that I found hard to verbalise. That emotion, my regard for Colonel Raine and my sadness at his death even though it was typical of the man, and my esteem for the man in front of me, it all went into that one word.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"If there is anything you need, sir, ever."

I think - I know - it surprised him. It surprised me, and I realised that though the dust of Portugal and Spain had long been cleaned from my uniform, it still lingered on my soul.

After lunch he and I rode out.

Despite his missing hand, he handled his mount well, compensating by riding with more leg aids than I usually use. He was quite fussy about the reins, one of my grooms passed them up to him, and he went to take them with his left hand. Realising his mistake, he cursed himself, before he apologised to the groom and gathered them up in his right hand.

We had talked much over lunch about his return to London, and his situation. He had few friends in town apart from family, but he was less concerned about that. He had only attended his uncle's garden party because the general had insisted.

"Practically ordered me." He laughed.

Captain Carter was still sensitive about the loss of his hand, and was uncomfortable about being seen without it, which I could fully understand. The problem was that Richard Carter, I discovered, was an intelligent, irrepressible man, with an innately cheerful disposition and a keen sense of humour that fought its way through to the front, more often than not. It wasn't that he was putting a brave face on his situation, rather this was his natural character shining through, despite everything. Sometimes there was a dark edge to his humour, biting or self-deprecating, but I have seen that before in men. Suffering the trauma of a wound like Richard's will do that to a person. But I was certain that he would accommodate himself to his situation, and even if he did not fully accept it, he would live a full life in spite of it.

Captain Carter was doing a very passable impression of Sir Arthur Wellesley while we walked the horses on Rotten Row, "Well, damn me, sir," he said, mimicking Wellesley perfectly, "If I thought my hair knew what my plan was, I would cut it all off, sir!" when Arabella's brougham passed us going in the opposite direction.

"Is that not your sister, Your Grace?"

"I do believe it is Richard."

"Shall we catch up with them?" and he wheeled his horse about and nudged it into a trot. The problem normally is stopping Naiad from trotting, so she cheerfully wheeled about, and we set off after them. We soon caught up with the brougham.

"Lady Rogeringham, Miss Dorrington!" We both greeted the passengers, Richard walking his horse up on the same side as Charlotte, and I walking Naiad on the same side as Arabella.

"Edward! How are you this fine day?" I called out to Arabella's footman, who nodded back, looking pleased at being recalled. "Don't worry man, we shall not make you wait with the horses today."

After talking with the ladies for a few minutes, our progress around the park was halted by a troop of the Royal Dragoon Guards (the third regiment in the Household Cavalry brigade) making their way by column of threes into the park.

"Oh, how magnificent!" Charlotte enthused, clapping her hands, as the column made its way past us. They wore nearly full uniform, all accoutrements, but rather than their bicorne hats the troopers rode out in forage caps. The officer in charge rode a dark bay stallion that curvetted and pranced - and darted and jumped at anything and everything. He was a vociferous chap, shouting all sorts of commands and comments, though he was courteous - he tipped the peak of his bicorne in the direction of the carriage.

I could sense that Naiad wanted to go with them, but she waited dutifully, until they had gone and we made our way onwards.

Charlotte looked at me, "You do not seem to have been impressed, William? Nor you Captain Carter?"

"I think it is because they have seen too many cavalry men like that, all puff and show." Arabella told her.

"How so?" Charlotte asked her.

"That captain was trying too hard at his work, he should have given one order and let his corporals do the rest," Arabella explained.

"Astutely observed, Miss Dorrington." Richard observed approvingly.

"Arabella, please captain?"

"Miss Dorrington spent some time with the army in Portugal," I told my younger friend. "What else did you notice, Arabella?"

"He has a very fine mount, but it would be no use when 'the ball opens', as they say. He is too highly strung - the poor fellow would spend all of his time controlling his own horse and not handling his troop."

"But they looked most excellent?" Charlotte suggested.

"They did indeed, Lady Rogeringham." Captain Carter agreed. "A very good turn-out. Do you not think, Your Grace?"

"Passable." I granted.

At which point Arabella chipped in, "Spoken like a true foot soldier, Your Grace. Lady Charlotte, I believe you will find that your brother is not a great believer in the qualities of English cavalry. Is that not so, Your Grace?"

I believe that when written down the sound I made was an 'harumph!' Arabella laughed at me, her girlish laugh, a pleasant sound.

"William very rarely speaks of his military experiences," Charlotte told her. "I do not recall him expounding on the virtues of our cavalry."

"Most of our foot soldiers do not feel they have any." Arabella explained, "The English cavalry stationed in the Peninsular are believed to be good for charging at the horizon, and very little else. A cavalry man will tell you different but their role is to support the infantry and not the other way about. If they are not there, they have no use."

I looked across the carriage to Richard where he rode on the same side as Charlotte. He was listening attentively as Arabella explained the situation to my sister, "On the other hand, the German émigré horsemen with Lord Wellesley's army - they call them the King's German Legion, they are most capable soldiers."

Charlotte nodded, "William has mentioned them before. "If they ride into camp at the gallop, --something is afoot", was that not it?"

"It was indeed!" I laughed, "Well remembered."

By this point we had arrived at the place where Richard would leave the park and go to his uncle's house. He took his leave of the ladies as I paused with him.

"Well, that was an education and no mistake. Miss Dorrington is most proficient in the ways of the army." He laughed.

"Never make the mistake of labelling her as a mere girl," I suggested. "She is an intelligent young lady."

"If I may, Your Grace, your sister is a very fine woman as well. I would like to call on her further, if I may?" Well, this was hopeful I thought.

"I suspect that she would be amenable, but I would like to be certain before I grant permission, Richard." He nodded.

"At the risk of being indelicate, dear chap," I said, "May I know your tailor's name? He has done a fine job on the presentation of your sleeve there and that jacket is particularly well cut. I should like him to come and see me."

Captain Carter said that he would send the man a note to call on me. As he turned his horse to go, he paused and said seriously, "Thank you, Your Grace, thank you for allowing me this." He waved his arm at the park and the horses. "I was considering going back to my regiment, where I could face the French, rather than come home and face polite society. But I am giving it some serious thought now."

Naiad side-stepped as she imagined something on the slight breeze. "Think nothing of it, sir, as I told you, I found changing from the army back to being a civilian, deuced tricky. If I can help a fellow soldier do the same, then my work here, as they say, is done.

"Now I am off, Richard, I need to run some of the fizz out of this one, before I return her to the stable. Will we see you at the concert tonight?"

Richard signalled that we would and I turned the mare's head for home.

On my return to Rogeringham House I found Charlotte in the sitting room, "Well?" I asked her.

My sister would not meet my gaze for a minute, until finally she broke down.

"Very well!" she blurted out, "I admit it. Captain Carter is quite personable, and he is quite attractive as well."

"And he does not remind you of me at all, does he?" I smiled.

"There is that too." Charlotte scowled, though not so severely that it spoiled her face, "But at least when he tells a joke, it is funny." She said as she broke into a smile.

"Touché!" I laughed. "Anyway, he has asked me if he can call on you."

For a moment Charlotte looked shocked. "And what did you say?"

"Simply that I would ask you first."

Charlotte came over and embraced me, "Thank you." She said, and then after a moment, she added "It would be acceptable for him to call on me."

After she had gone, I wrote Captain Carter a short note, and despatched it to him. If this worked out, I thought to myself, then we were three down and two to go.