No, the decision would be his. That was the price of command.

It helped, however, that he was still in acting command of the army. It gave him some latitude – some time at least. For with the papers from Fort St George had come a most opportune solution. But to gain that time he would have to move apace. Under the provisions of the new India Act, control of the island of Saint Helena would pass from the Company to the Crown. There was to be a three-year period of transition – the new governor, a major-general, would take up his post in a year’s time – and Madras was instructed to send forthwith a lieutenant-colonel to act meanwhile as garrison commander. The appointment was thus in his, Hervey’s, gift. He had the right to promote to acting rank, with the associated pay and privileges. He would appoint Garratt. Thus exiled, albeit not as permanently as had been St Helena’s most notorious resident, the whole business might conveniently be forgotten. (It could certainly not be pursued except at great cost, not least in time.) And promotion would contradict any hint of taint.

It would serve, he concluded, for the greatest happiness for the greatest number.

He took up his pen and began to write the posting order.

Georgiana, meanwhile, had never enjoyed herself more. In so short a time – not even a year – she’d seen so much of the world, whereas in the whole of the fifteen years before, she’d seen but a page in the great volume. A delightful page – Wiltshire was very bliss, and London, what little she’d been able to observe, was full of wonders – but India … And now she was riding in the company of the finest of men: Lieutenant & Adjutant Edward St Alban was the handsomest, cleverest and most upright subaltern officer in the whole of the army!

‘Miss Gildea, do you suppose we might ask Mr St Alban if we may cross the Krishna today?’

Annie, ever cautious – she had, after all, the care of Colonel Hervey’s firstborn – wondered what there might be on the other side to justify risking any more perilous encounters with ferries than absolutely necessary. The military ones she’d been confident enough of, but the native ones were to her altogether too lackadaisical. But Georgiana was so full of zeal to see the country – she told her what the chatelaine at the haveli had said about the temple carvings in one of the villages – and the weather was as perfect as could be …

‘Shall I ask him, Miss Hervey?’

Georgiana blushed a little. She’d thought to ask him herself, but perhaps it was more proper for her governess to.

He was anyway within earshot almost. He’d only trotted up fifty yards or so to have a word with the syce acting as guide – though what he could be saying when all he had was the stock words of command, she couldn’t imagine. She did think it funny that some of the officers seemed not to be able to make any headway with the language, and not for want of trying – though St Alban himself was undoubtedly so conscientious an adjutant that he could have little time for study. And it certainly didn’t help that the moonshee of whom everyone spoke had so inconsiderately abandoned his post. But that, they all said, was Indians. As Corporal Johnson had explained: ‘Tha sees, Miss ’Ervey, these ’Indoos don’t think like us. They reckon as they do things cos God makes ’em. Well, not t’real God – t’one they ’as. Except they ’as so many as it gets confusin’ for ’em because one god says one thing an’ another says another.’