Simon Scarrow - Fire and Sword

His attention was abruptly drawn to a man who had just entered the salon, and stood at the threshold scanning the guests. His boots, breeches and cape were spattered with mud and his chest heaved with the exertion of his ride and final sprint into the house. Then, spying the Prime Minister, the man hurried across to him and spoke hurriedly in a low voice. The conversation in the room died quickly as the guests became aware of the man, and the warm air grew tense with excitement.

Pitt and the messenger conversed a moment longer, and then Pitt patted the man’s shoulder and turned to face the silent crowd. It was clear to Arthur that the Prime Minister was torn by mixed emotions. For a moment Pitt said nothing and stood ashen-faced, a shaking hand stroking his chin. Then he took a deep breath and addressed his audience.

‘I have just heard news of a great victory. From first reports it seems that Admiral Nelson has met and engaged the combined fleets of France and Spain off Cape Trafalgar. The enemy was annihilated.’

‘Good God,’ Arthur muttered as the impact of the news struck him. The immediate danger of invasion was over. Bonaparte had been humbled.

Some of the younger men began to talk excitedly and a voice bellowed out, ‘Hurrah for Nelson! Three cheers for Admiral Nelson!’ The orchestra hurriedly made ready to play a patriotic jingle, scrabbling through their sheet music.

‘Hah!’ General Sparrow clapped Arthur on the back. ‘They’ll make him a duke for this!’

But Arthur was still watching Pitt. There was no joy in the Prime Minister’s expression, only grief and despair as he raised his hands to attract the audience’s attention once more.

‘Please! Quiet, please, I beg you. There is more.’

Gradually the crowd hushed and stared expectantly, hardly daring to believe there was even better news to follow.

‘It is with the very greatest regret that I have to announce that Admiral Nelson fell in the battle, at the hour of his greatest service to the nation.’

‘Dead?’ Olivia Sparrow whispered and clutched her hand to her mouth. ‘Nelson is dead?’

The silence was total in the salon as the party guests stood, stunned into stillness. Pitt tried to say something further, but the words died on his lips. He shook his head and turned to leave the room, the first tears gleaming in his eyes.

Chapter 11

The following morning Lord Buckingham’s guests returned to London. They were desperate to discover the full details of the victory at Trafalgar. The politicians were also aware that it would be useful to be seen in Parliament paying tribute to the fallen hero. A few choice words of sorrowful rhetoric would be sure to be quoted somewhere in one of the country’s newspapers.

As Arthur rose from his breakfast at one of the tables that had been set in the salon, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see the Prime Minister.

‘Sir Arthur, I take it you are returning to London today.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Are you leaving soon?’

‘As soon as my bags are packed and my carriage is ready.’

‘Ah, that is good. I wonder if you would do me the honour of sharing my carriage on the road to London?’

Arthur was taken aback. It would indeed be an honour, but for Arthur rather than William Pitt. Instinctively he wondered if the offer was being made in order to derive some kind of political benefit for the Prime Minister. Perhaps he was trying to drive a wedge between Arthur and his host, Lord Buckingham.Arthur glanced across the room and saw Buckingham engrossed in conversation with a fat, pasty-faced man whom Arthur recognised as one of the Whig members of Parliament who had made a reputation for himself in constantly advocating peace with France. Pitt saw the direction of his gaze and smiled thinly.

‘Put your fears at rest, Sir Arthur; I will make sure that your presence in my carriage is not detected. I suggest you take your own carriage as far as the nearest village and send it on from there while you wait for me.’

It seemed a strangely covert arrangement and Arthur was tempted to turn the offer down politely, for fear that he would be seen as something of a conspirator if the ruse was discovered.

Pitt lowered his voice and leaned closer. ‘Sir Arthur, I do not make this suggestion lightly. I was impressed by your directness last night. In government one finds oneself surrounded by placemen, and those who would be placemen. They cut the cloth of their advice to suit their audience, and I would be glad to hear a more honest opinion on two pressing matters. Now then, will you drive with me?’

Arthur stared at the Prime Minister for a moment and came to a decision. He nodded.

‘Very good, then I shall see you later.’ Pitt leaned back and raised his voice. ‘A pleasure to meet you in person, Sir Arthur. I wish you a safe trip back to London.’

They exchanged a brisk shake of hands before Pitt moved off, heading for his host to take his leave. Arthur waited a moment before he followed. Buckingham clasped Arthur’s hand and composed his features into an expression of regret.

‘It is a shame that we did not have time to talk properly, but events have overtaken us. We will speak again soon, you have my word.’

‘Thank you, my lord. I will look forward to the occasion.’

‘As will I.’ Buckingham looked meaningfully at his guest. ‘In the testing times that lie ahead of us a man should be careful that he picks the winning side. Eh?’

Arthur smiled. ‘It is always my intention to win the struggle against the French, sir.’

Buckingham frowned. ‘I was referring to conflicts somewhat nearer to home.’

‘Of course, my lord. I misunderstood,’ Arthur replied smoothly, and then bowed his head. ‘I thank you for the invitation to your house.’

Lord Buckingham smiled graciously and acknowledged the bow before turning to the next of his departing guests. Arthur made his way out of the salon and into the entrance hall. A small crowd of guests stood in clusters with their baggage while they waited for their carriages. Footmen hurried in and out of the door, laden down with bags, chests of toiletries and hat boxes. To one side, Arthur spotted the Sparrows, but before he could avoid their gaze and move off Olivia caught sight of him and raised her laced glove to wave excitedly.

‘Sir Arthur! Good morning to you!’ Pulling on her husband’s arm, she hurried across the hall towards Arthur, who stood torn between a desire to hurry off for his meeting with Pitt and the obligation to be well mannered. Stifling a weary sense of resignation, he smiled a greeting.

‘Good morning to you, madam. Good morning, sir.’

‘Joining the stampede back to London, Wellesley?’ asked General Sparrow. ‘It’s going to be busy on the turnpike this morning, eh?’

‘Indeed.’Arthur, still musing over their mention of Kitty the previous evening, was tempted to ask for more news of her. Before he could speak Olivia took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

‘Sir Arthur, do please look us up in London. And there’s one other thing: the moment you get back to London, make sure you write to our mutual friend. A letter from you would warm her heart.’

‘I, er, will give it some thought, madam.’

‘Make sure you do. A lady can only be kept waiting for so long.’

‘Do get in.’ Pitt smiled as he held the carriage door open, and Arthur bent his head to climb inside. Although the interior was large by the standards of most carriages, it was upholstered in plain leather, which was heavily worn. Pitt noticed Arthur’s searching glance and could not help laughing.

‘A bit spartan, is it not? Not quite what you expected the Prime Minister to be travelling in. Well, this is not France and I am not the Emperor, so there is no need for an ornate toy with which to impress the common herd.’ Pitt laid his hand down on the cracked leather and stroked it with a fond expression. ‘I have been using this carriage for over ten years, on and off, and it has served me well enough. Though I think I shall not be able to use it for much longer.’