Fire and Sword (44 page)
Authors: Simon Scarrow
Richard was about to reply when Arthur raised his hand to still his brother’s tongue. He felt a sudden icy grip of terror fix on the back of his neck.
‘Whatever’s the matter?’ Richard asked.
‘It’s gone quiet.’Arthur glanced at the ceiling and muttered,‘By God, if anything’s happened to Kitty . . .’
The two brothers sat in silence for a moment, and Arthur felt his chest tighten anxiously at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. A moment later the door to the drawing room opened and Dr Hoxter entered. His shirtsleeves were rolled up as he wiped his hands clean on a bloodied piece of cloth. Arthur instantly feared the worst and swallowed nervously.
‘Kitty . . . is she all right, doctor?’
‘She is fine, sir.’ Dr Hoxter nodded and then smiled warmly. ‘And so is your son.’>
‘My son?’ Arthur felt the tension drain from his body, to be replaced by the warmth of love and unbridled joy. ‘I have a son.’
‘Indeed, sir. A fine-looking young fellow if ever I saw one.’
Richard stood up, reached across the table and grasped Arthur’s hand. ‘Then I’ll be the very first to offer my congratulations!’
Arthur turned to his brother, still dazed by the realisation that he was a father. ‘Thank you. Thank you, Richard.’
Dr Hoxter tucked the cloth into his waistcoat pocket and strode across the drawing room to shake Arthur’s hand in turn. ‘And here’s my congratulations to you too, sir.’
Arthur was no longer able to contain his delight and smiled broadly at the doctor and his brother. ‘Bless my soul. I’m a father!’
Richard laughed.‘Welcome to the club. Once the first flush of pride and novelty has worn off you’ll soon discover what a mixed blessing paternity can be.Take it from one who knows.’
‘Amen to that,’ said the doctor.
‘May I see the boy? And my wife, of course.’
‘I rather think Lady Wellesley would be rather aggrieved if you didn’t.’ Dr Hoxter grinned. ‘Come along, sir.’
As the doctor turned towards the door Arthur looked to his brother with an awkward expression. ‘Do you mind?’
‘No.’ Richard grinned. ‘I have had more than my share of such events.You go ahead. I’ll leave now.’
Arthur nodded his thanks. ‘I’m sure we will speak soon.’
‘You can count on it. New fathers are inclined to be boorishly persistent in telling all and sundry about their status. I was no exception to that rule.’
Arthur said a quick farewell and followed the doctor upstairs to the master bedroom. As they entered he saw Kitty in their bed, propped up against several cushions as she rested from her exertions. Her hair was plastered to her scalp by perspiration and her skin was pallid and waxy in appearance. She smiled weakly at her husband.
‘Arthur. Dear Arthur. Come to me.’ She raised a hand and he saw it tremble with the effort as he strode across the room and sat down beside her, taking her fingers and giving them a gentle squeeze.
‘I hear that we have a son.’
Kitty smiled. ‘Yes.’
‘Where is he?’
‘The midwife is just cleaning him up,’ Dr Hoxter explained.
Arthur nodded and turned back to Kitty.‘And you, my dear, how do you feel?’
‘Tired.’ She smiled bleakly. ‘Very tired.’
Arthur leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Kitty, you have made me so proud. I have never felt so happy.’
‘I am glad,Arthur dear.’ She stared into his eyes and he felt her fingers tighten around his. ‘I so want to make you happy, my love.’
‘And you have.’ Arthur smiled back and felt a stab of guilt in his heart as he recalled the bitter disappointment of their wedding and the days, weeks and months that followed it. He took a deep breath and continued, ‘I could not have asked for a better wife.And mother to my child.’
The door to the adjoining bathroom clicked open and Dr Hoxter clapped his hands together. ‘Ah! Here’s the little fellow. Come to say hello to his father.’
Arthur turned and saw the midwife approaching the bed with a bundle in her arms. She laid the swaddled infant gently down beside Kitty and Arthur leaned forward for a better look at his son. The face was tiny, wrinkled and pink and the lips moved slightly. The eyes were shut and the hands were raised on either side of the head, each one half clenched and no bigger than a penny.
Arthur felt his heart swell with such emotion as he had never felt before. He had a strange impulse to cry and only just stifled it as he swallowed and spoke with a tremor. ‘May I hold him?’
The midwife looked across the bed. ‘Why, of course you can, Sir Arthur.The moment he has fed.’
‘Fed? But he’s only just been born. By God, is the boy determined to eat me out of house and home the instant he is brought into the world?’
The midwife leaned towards Kitty. ‘If you’d pick the child up, my lady, and offer him your breast.’
‘Breast?’ Kitty looked round, startled. ‘Offer him my breast?’
‘Why yes, my lady. Of course. How else is the young ’un to feed?’
‘Oh, yes. I see.’ Kitty looked up at Arthur and the doctor apprehensively. ‘Would you mind leaving the room? I would feel more comfortable.’
‘Yes,’Arthur replied awkwardly.‘Certainly, my dear.’ He turned to the doctor. ‘I imagine you could use refreshment, sir.’
‘Indeed I could!’ Dr Hoxter paced towards the door, then stopped abruptly and turned towards Arthur and Kitty. ‘Have you decided on names for the lad yet?’
Arthur nodded. ‘He is to be called Arthur Richard.’
‘Capital!’ Dr Hoxter rubbed his hands together. ‘Then let us go and toast the health and long life of Master Arthur Richard Wellesley.’
The child thrived well enough, in spite of Kitty’s misgivings that she would not be able to feed him adequately.The pregnancy had not been comfortable on her thin frame and the birth itself had taken the best part of a day before the baby was delivered. She remained in bed for several days to recover from the ordeal. Arthur would have spent more time with his wife and son but for the increasingly serious situation in Parliament.The government was besieged by opposition to some of its more progressive measures. In addition to the Catholic relief bill there was the vexed question of the abolition of the slave trade. The debates raged on through the remainder of February and into March. It was on the seventeenth day of that month, emerging from the chamber as dusk fell across London, that Arthur caught the first scent of a new crisis. Members and clerks were clustered about the hall talking in excited tones. Arthur crossed to the nearest group and nudged the elbow of a Tory member he recognised.
‘Hello, Sidcup. What’s the news?’
Sidcup glanced round. ‘Have you not heard? The King demanded a meeting with the Prime Minister this morning.’
‘What for?’
‘To discuss the Catholic relief bill, what else?You know as well as any how bitterly he opposes it.’ Sidcup raised his eyebrows. ‘Now it seems that his majesty has told Lord Grenville that he will not give his assent to the bill, if it is passed. Not only that, but he has demanded that the Cabinet swear an oath never to bring such a bill before Parliament again.’>
‘By God,’ Arthur said in shock. ‘The King can’t be serious.’
‘He is. Deadly serious by all accounts and he won’t take no for an answer. And you have to admire his complete lack of tact in making his demand today.’
‘Eh?’ Arthur frowned a moment before he got the point. ‘Ah, I see. St Patrick’s day.’
‘Quite. Ever the sensitive monarch, our George.’
‘But this is madness,’Arthur said quietly, glancing round to make sure that he was not overheard.‘The country is already divided enough over the issue. Now the King threatens to make it a constitutional matter.’
‘So it seems,’ Sidcup agreed, and smiled ruefully. ‘We live in interesting times, Sir Arthur. Pray that his majesty comes to his senses before it is too late.’
Arthur returned to his home on Harley Street filled with a sense of growing despair over King George’s intransigence. It was a divisive enough prospect for England, but in Ireland it would play straight into the hands of those who wanted an end to British rule. Arthur could think of nothing so calculated to foment a general uprising. His dark mood was evident to Kitty the moment he joined her in the parlour. She sat in a chair by the fire. Beside her the infant lay in his crib, fists twitching furiously as he wriggled on his back and made a strained gurgling noise.
‘Arthur, what is the matter?’
He forced himself to soften his expression and smiled as he leaned over Kitty and kissed the top of her head. ‘It does not matter now, my dear. How are you today?’
‘Well, thank you. My strength is returning.’
‘Good. And our son?’ Arthur knelt down and tickled the infant’s stomach gently.
Kitty smiled fondly as she glanced down into the crib. ‘He has been feeding like the five thousand. I don’t know where he fits it all. He’s like a bottomless well.’
Arthur wrinkled his nose as a familiar odour rose up from the crib. ‘I fear that the boy’s bottom has welled up somewhat.’
Kitty laughed and swatted her husband gently. ‘I will have him changed. Then he can be put to bed before we eat.’ She looked at her husband closely for a moment and then touched his arm. ‘Is there a problem? What happened today?’
‘It’s not important. Not yet, at least.’
‘Can you tell me about it?’
Arthur shook his head faintly.‘I’d rather not even think about it.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll be in the study while you attend to the boy. Send for me when dinner is served.’
‘Yes, my dear.’ Kitty looked at him reproachfully.‘You can talk to me about whatever it is that concerns you.’
Arthur smiled and patted her on the shoulder. ‘I know. But not tonight, my dear. In any case, there is nothing we can do about it.’
He took a last look at his son and then turned to leave the parlour. Kitty watched him go, with a sad expression at his subdued mood, and then rose from her chair to call the nursemaid and have the nappy changed.
Eight days later the bill to abolish the slave trade was put to the vote before Parliament.When the count had finished and the members were allowed back in the chamber the house waited in silence as the spokesman for the tellers turned to address the speaker.
‘The ayes, two hundred and eighty-three.The nays, sixteen. The ayes have it.’
The house erupted with a mixture of cheers from the abolitionists, drowning out the cries of protest from the supporters of the trade. As tears of triumph glistened in his eyes, William Wilberforce was surrounded by supporters eager to offer their congratulations on the success of his lifetime’s work. Despite his ambivalence Arthur was moved by the sight and could only hope that the man’s moral victory did nothing to undermine his nation at the hour of its greatest peril. The shouting and excited hubbub gradually died down as the speaker rapped his rod on the floor and called for silence. Eventually the chamber was quiet again and the speaker waited a moment before he indicated Lord Grenville.
‘The Prime Minister wishes to address the House.’
The attention of the members was fixed on Lord Grenville as he rose from his seat and paused a moment to draw a breath before he spoke. When he did, there was no mistaking the weary frustration in his tone. Arthur was surprised, since Grenville was a firm supporter of Wilberforce’s long campaign, and he leaned forward to hear the Prime Minister’s words as clearly as possible.
‘I can think of no better piece of legislation to honour the service this government has given to our people. The abolition of such an abhorrent trade in humanity will send a message to the world concerning the finest values that Britain holds dear even in this darkest hour, when we are beset by an enemy intent on tearing the very concept of liberty to shreds.’
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