'I'm not sure I'm quite ready to commit myself just yet,' said Arthur. 'A few more months in London should allow me to mature to the point where I can make a decent soldier.'
'Arthur, you are almost eighteen. I know of scores of youngsters who have been in uniform for over a year already. If you are to make up for lost time and compete with them then we must secure a commission for you at once.'
'Supposing, for argument's sake, that I didn't want to join the army just yet?'
'Arthur!' Lady Mornington snapped in frustration. 'Be quiet! You are going to join the army, whether you like it or not. And do you know why? Because it is all you are fit for. You are so lacking in aptitude for anything that we have been forced to make the choice for you.'
Inside his breast Arthur felt something give way and a torrent of injured pride and anger finally poured through his veins and found its voice. He stood up. 'Enough! I've had enough. All my life I've had to listen to you berating me. Sure, I'm not as clever as Richard and William. I'll never show the promise of Gerald. I won't ever be as accomplished a musician as Father. I know all that, Mother! And you know what? The knowledge sits in my heart like a rock.'
'Calm down.' Richard raised a hand. 'This is not solving anything. Arthur, can you blame us for the perception you create of yourself? I, at least, believe that you have some potential.'
'Why, thank you, brother.'
'So why act the fop?'
Arthur made a hurt expression. 'I thought I was acting the dandy.'
Richard smiled. 'Either way, you can't keep this performance up for ever.'
'We'll see. I'm game.'
'I'm sure you are, Arthur. But the question is, when are you going to stop punishing us for what you see as your own failings? Acting as you do will not change things. It makes you look foolish and irresponsible. And it reflects badly on the rest of the family. So you see, no one wins. In fact, we all lose.You most of all.You must see that?'
Arthur shrugged. 'So what should I do?'
'Just as Mother says. Join the army. Commit yourself to the career. I'm sure you will do well. And, if any opportunity comes up outside the army, for which I deem you suitable, then you might want to pursue a new path instead.'
'I see.You quietly thrust me into the army so I can stop being an embarrassment to the family. If you're lucky there might even be another war, or some plague-ridden posting halfway across the world for which I might be deemed suitable. That would dispose of me very satisfactorily.'
'No one's trying to get rid of you, Arthur. We just want what's best for you. If there is a war, who knows, it might be the making of you.'
Arthur suddenly felt very weary of it all. He had hoped for some kind of a reconciliation with his family, some kind of acceptance that he could do just as well as them, in a field of his own choosing.
'I need to think about this. I need a rest. Somewhere quiet. Mother?'
'Upstairs,' she replied. 'First door on the left. Be sure to take your shoes off before you take to the bed. I'll send for you when the meal is served. Please be in a more convivial mood at the table.'
'Thank you.'Arthur left the room.As he mounted the stairs the conversation in the parlour resumed at a low level. He was tempted to stop, and listen, but it was pointless. He already knew what would be said.
As if to confirm his expectations William's voice suddenly rose up.'I've never known such monstrous ingratitude! Why, the fellow has the audacity to blame us for his shortcomings!'
'Thank you, William,' Richard cut in. 'But we need to be a little more productive in our contributions right now.'
Arthur smiled tiredly, and carried on up the stairs. The room his mother had suggested was dark and cold, but the bed was comfortable and had been made up with thick quilts. Once his shoes had been removed he drew his stockinged feet up beneath the covers, curled up in a ball and closed his eyes. For a while his mind turned over his prospects. In truth he was tired of being directionless.The diversions that he had enjoyed in London were just that and nothing more. His heart and mind ached for something more nourishing, and he was not yet wholly convinced that a life in the army would fill that need. Even though Colonel Ross had cut an elegant figure, and one that Arthur would happily emulate, he could not help suspecting that the military regime was as subservient to routine as the dull halls of Eton, though marginally more dangerous.
Chapter 35
On 17 March 1787 a message arrived at Lady Mornington's house. It was addressed to the Honourable Arthur Wesley and although there was no external indication of where the message had come from, she knew at once what it must be and had it sent up to her son's room as soon as it arrived. At the tap on his door Arthur laid down the book he had been reading.
'Come.'
The door opened and one of the two footmen that Lady Mornington could afford stepped into the room. He carried a small silver tray on which rested a letter. Arthur tried not to smile. The letter salve was one of his mother's latest affectations, picked up on the tail end of a fashion that had swept through the best houses in the capital.
'For you, sir.' The footman offered him the salve with a slight bow. 'Arrived just this minute.'
'Thank you, Harrington.' Arthur took the letter. 'You may go.'
The footman bowed again and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Arthur wasted no time in breaking the wafer that sealed the letter and unfolding it.The message was terse and formal, as he had expected, and briefly informed him that he had been gazetted as an ensign in the 73rd Highland Regiment. Not terribly exclusive, Arthur mused, but Richard had done his best. Arthur would have preferred a cavalry regiment commission with all the associated dash, but Richard had been adamant that such a commission would have been unreasonably costly to obtain and sustain. The artillery was out of the question since it would make quite unfair demands on Arthur's intellect. Besides, that branch of the army tended to be so professional that its officers might as well be employed in some form of trade. So his commission had to be in an infantry regiment. But, by God, did it have to be a Scottish regiment? Did that mean he had to wear one of those bloody ridiculous kilts? Or were officers permitted to dress in a more civilised manner? Arthur read on.
The regiment was temporarily attached to the garrison in Chelsea Barracks. Ensign Wesley was requested and required to attend the barracks to formally take up his commission on 24 March. Thereafter, he would be inducted into the duties of an officer of infantry by the drill instructor at the barracks.
Arthur folded up the letter and tapped it against his chin as he reflected that his military career was at last about to begin. In the months since Christmas he had resigned himself to this path, and had therefore done as much background reading into military matters as possible. Whatever else he may have failed at in his life so far, Arthur was determined that he would be a good soldier at least. One that even his family would come to admire, however grudgingly.
The uniform and other accoutrements he had ordered arrived from the tailor the day before he was due to attend the Chelsea Barracks.With a sense of excitement that was palpable to all those who shared the house with him, Arthur dressed in the full uniform and then stood in front of a full-length mirror in his mother's room and gazed at his reflection. He presented quite a striking image, he decided. He buffed the shiny buttons on his coat with his sleeve and left the room, descending the narrow staircase into the hall, before striding purposefully towards the door to the parlour. Inside, his mother and oldest brother turned to look at him.