Fire and Sword (31 page)
Authors: Simon Scarrow
‘Look here,Arthur, I appreciate your concern. But there is little I can do about it now.’
‘Rubbish!’ Arthur snapped back. ‘There is everything. Sober up. Smarten up. Go back into Parliament and defend yourself and your policies. If you can’t stop whoring around then at least attempt to keep your private life private, and for God’s sake start cultivating a following amongst the newspaper editors here in London.’
‘Newspaper editors?’ Richard frowned. ‘Why should I want to associate with such vermin?’
‘Because they influence public opinion.’ Arthur spoke patiently.‘And public opinion influences those in government. You might try to be seen in public with Hyacinthe more often and give the impression of being a dutiful husband.’
‘What is the point?’ Richard asked wearily. ‘My enemies mean to destroy me. I hear that votes of censure are being planned in the Lords and the Commons. Of course I will try to defend myself, but you know how slowly these things progress, Arthur. It will be years before my name can be cleared, if it ever is. I will have to employ lawyers to defend me, and they are sure to bleed me dry in the process. So you can see why I feel little desire to play along with public opinion, or deny myself what few pleasures life affords me. I am not the only man in London who indulges his physical needs outside marriage.’
‘True,’ Arthur conceded, ‘but you are one of the few who elevates it to the level of popular spectacle. It has to stop, Richard. For your own good.’
‘For the good of the family,’ Richard countered mockingly.
‘Yes, that is true. Britain has need of us as never before. We have proved what we can do in India. Think what we could do for Britain with you in government and I on the battlefield. Our country needs us, and if we serve her to the fullest extent of our abilities, then people a hundred years from now will honour the name of Wellesley.’
Richard looked at his brother sadly. ‘You seem to have quite an appetite for posterity. But I want my rewards now, in this life. Alas, those bastards on the board of the East India Company, and their friends, are hell-bent on ruining my career.’
Arthur was growing tired of his brother’s obstructive state of mind, and he hissed through his teeth for an instant before continuing in a low, flat tone. ‘I can see there is no point in prolonging this discussion, Richard. I’ll leave you to enjoy your misery, then. Meanwhile, you may rest assured that at least William and I will be defending the honour of our family name. Perhaps, when you come to your senses, you might join us. I bid you good day.’
So saying, he rose from his chair, and strode across the room, leaving Richard to stare after him with a surprised and pained expression.
Once Arthur became the new member for Rye he wasted no time in securing permission to take leave from his command in order to attend Parliament. After he had delivered his maiden speech on the need to be wary of making peace with France, he spoke up on any matters relating to India and the army. Despite the efforts of the Foreign Secretary to promote the notion of peace with France, Arthur and many other members of Parliament watched events on the continent with growing concern.
Early in April news arrived in London that Joseph Bonaparte had been made King of Naples.Then, in June, more worrying news reached Britain: Louis Bonaparte was on the throne of Holland. Meanwhile the French Emperor had been hard at work on the Rhine, consolidating the hundreds of tiny German states into a more manageable number, under the protection of France. Against this background the ambitions of Charles Fox found less and less support in Parliament.
Some weeks after Arthur had returned to London, he was joined by Kitty. At first she stayed with the Sparrows, until Arthur found a house to rent in Harley Street. Once all the furnishings, dinner services, bedding and plethora of other household necessaries had been purchased, Arthur and Kitty moved in.The first days were as awkward as the honeymoon had been and Arthur did his best to play the part of a loving and dutiful husband at home, and in public. For her part Kitty seemed keen to please him, and to be considered a worthy companion, and wife.
As they grew more used to the intimate touch and feel of each other, it became easier to make love. Even so, Arthur felt an aching despair at the loss of the years he might have had if only Kitty had been allowed to marry him before he had gone to India.Then he would have had the Kitty he had loved, and carried in his heart through the years they had been apart. As it was, he felt she was almost a different person, and one he would never have picked as a wife had he encountered her more recently. But he had kept his word and married Kitty, Arthur reflected fatalistically, and he had satisfied his personal sense of honour in doing so. Therefore, he must commit himself to the marriage as best as he could.
Then one day, early in September, as he returned home from a day of wearisome debate in Parliament, Kitty came hurrying downstairs and held her arms out to embrace him.
‘Good God, Kitty!’ Arthur laughed. ‘What was that for?’
She looked up at him and smiled nervously. ‘Are you happy with me?’
‘Of course I am!’ Arthur leaned his head down and kissed her lightly on the lips. ‘How could I fail to be?’
Kitty stared at him searchingly.‘I know you think I am weak-willed, Arthur, but I had to hear you say that. Just to know.’
‘Well, now you have heard it, so tell me, my love, what vexes your mind so obviously?’
Kitty swallowed, and licked her lips before she replied. ‘Arthur, dear, I am expecting.’
Arthur froze for a moment before the full import of the news hit him. He kissed Kitty again, with warm excitement this time.‘Expecting, by God! That’s wonderful news, my love. Quite wonderful.’
‘Do you mean it?’
‘Of course I do!’ Arthur stepped back and took her hands in his and stared into her wide eyes. ‘It is the best news I have had in a very long time.We must celebrate.’
‘The doctor said I am to rest and avoid excitement.’
‘Stuff and nonsense!’ Arthur replied cheerily. ‘This is something worthy of celebration. Oh, I forgot! When is the child due?’
‘Late January or early February next year.’
‘Wonderful,’Arthur muttered as his mind began to race.‘We must tell our families and friends.’
‘I’d really rather we didn’t, in case . . .’ Kitty’s gaze fell away from his face as she stared at the ground.‘In case we lose it for any reason. I could not bear facing people if I lost our child before it was born.’
‘Hush, my dear. That is not going to happen. I will ensure that you are well looked after, by the best doctors that can be found in London. I swear it.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied softly.
Arthur smiled at her, and then leaned forward to kiss her lightly on the forehead. ‘Dearest Kitty, it is I who should be thanking you.’
The prospect of becoming a father relieved Arthur of some of his gloom over the news from Europe that France had abolished the Holy Roman Empire and made itself ruler of a confederation of states in the Rhine area. The mood lasted until one morning, a week later, when there was a sharp rap on the front door. A footman showed his brother William into Arthur’s study. Looking up,Arthur was surprised to see his brother’s strained expression.
‘William? What is it?’
‘It’s Charles Fox,’William said baldly. ‘He died late last night.’
‘Fox is dead?’ Arthur stroked his chin. ‘Dead, do you say? Then there will be no treaty with France. Not now. No other Englishman would dare to treat with Bonaparte.’
‘Well yes, quite,’William responded quietly.‘And you know what that means?’
Arthur nodded soberly. ‘No peace. Just war to the bitter end. And only one of our nations will survive.’
Chapter 20
Napoleon
Paris, August 1806
The air was heavy and still and already the first distant rumbles of thunder could be heard amid the dark clouds edging across the city skyline. Napoleon dabbed at the perspiration along his hairline as he stared out of the open window. Even though he was naked he was hot and his skin was clammy. There was a sudden brief puff of breeze and the lace curtains ballooned around him before settling and sliding over his skin, making him shudder at the light sensation. Behind him, on the bed, Josephine stirred.
‘Sounds as if a storm’s coming.’
‘Yes,’ he replied softly, without turning round. Beyond the end of the Tuileries gardens the buildings were fading into the gloom and a dull band of shadow was creeping across the lawns towards Napoleon.There was another breath of wind, colder this time, and the first chilly pinpricks of rain on his face and chest. Still he did not move, and just watched as the leafy boughs on the trees lining the avenues began to shimmer and sway.Then there was a brilliant flash of sheet lightning that bathed the gardens in a ghostly white glare and almost at once the crack of thunder rolled across the city.The concussion rattled the windows of the imperial bedchamber. It reminded him of the sensation of the battlefield as the artillery of the Grand Army reverberated through the air and the earth itself.
‘Napoleon!’ Josephine sat up in alarm, staring across the room to where her husband stood gazing up at the sky as the lace curtains billowed round him like a shroud. His hands were clutching the window frame and he did not move, or respond to her. Throwing back the bedsheet, Josephine snatched up her silk gown and slipped into it as she hurried across the room and took his arm.
‘Napoleon? My love.’
The rain was sweeping in through the window now and he blinked as if recovering from a trance, and looked at his wife.‘What? What is it?’
‘Close the window. Close it and come back to bed. Before you catch a chill.’
Josephine gently drew him away from the window and closed it behind them, securing the latch firmly. Outside the rain pattered off the glass, streaking the view of the gardens as they were brilliantly illuminated by lightning again, before the thunder crashed out over Paris. Napoleon walked slowly back towards the bed and climbed in under the sheet, while Josephine lay down on the other side and then edged across so that she could cradle his head against her breast.
‘What’s worrying you so?’ she asked softly.
Napoleon was silent for a moment, his eyes wide open and staring at the gilded mouldings on the ceiling. His brow furrowed slightly. ‘There is going to be another war. It cannot be avoided.’
‘We are already at war. Unless the British have changed their minds.’ He smiled her light-hearted tone. ‘We are always at war with Britain. I’m talking about Prussia. I thought we’d humbled them for some years yet. Seems that I hadn’t counted on that vixen wife of Frederick William’s. He is a weak fool and Talleyrand can play him like a fiddle. But that Queen of his, Louise, is made of tougher material. She has been agitating against us from the moment the peace treaty was signed.’
Josephine smiled, and wound one of his dark curls around her little finger. ‘You should never underestimate women, my love.’
Napoleon’s gaze flickered away from the ceiling and he tilted his head round so that he could look into her eyes. ‘I know. I made that mistake once before.’
Josephine felt an old anxiety well up in the pit of her stomach as she recalled the affairs she had conducted while Napoleon had been away campaigning in Italy and then Egypt in the early years of their marriage. She had nearly lost him when Napoleon discovered her infidelity.There was a quick flicker of anger as she recalled that he had been unfaithful himself.Then the thought was banished and she turned her mind back to Prussia as Napoleon continued.
‘I had thought the Prussians lacked the nerve for war.There we were, on the eve of Austerlitz, and the Russians and Austrians thought I was as good as beaten. It was only then that the Prussians decided to throw in their lot with my enemies and demand that I let them broker a peace. And after Austerlitz?’ He sniffed with contempt. ‘Frederick William sends me his congratulations on a magnificent victory.The man has the heart of a mouse. He could not sign a treaty with us fast enough.At one stroke of the pen I had humiliated Prussia and left Britain to continue the fight alone . . . And now my spies tell me that Prussia is planning to make war on France. Why? Why do they want war?’
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