Fire and Sword

Chapter 10

Arthur

London, November 1805

In the weeks that followed his return to Britain Arthur gradually renewed his former friendships and other contacts in the capital.Yet at the back of his mind there was always the thought of Kitty, still living in Dublin, as far as he knew. Much as he longed to see her again, he put off writing to her over and over, telling himself that he was too busy for such matters at present. Amid the whirl and glitter of the capital’s social circles Arthur was flattered by the attention of women of quality, although he also spent many evenings in the clubs and drinking dens where he enjoyed the company of courtesans.Yet none of them excited his ardour as much as the mere thought of Kitty. Accordingly, he tried to occupy his mind with other matters.

It was vital that he fully understood the social and political terrain across which the Wellesleys would fight to secure their place at the centre of Britain’s affairs. His older brother, William, was a member of the House of Commons and proved a useful guide to the complex relations between the various factions. In the eleven years since they had last seen each other William had aged poorly. He was growing stout, and his hair was streaked with grey. More disheartening still was the degree to which William had become so acclimatised to politics that he had come to see it as the means to all ends, and he vigorously encouraged his younger brother to align himself with the rising faction of Lord Buckingham.

One morning, the two brothers were sitting in the parlour of their mother’s house as the first wet, windy days of winter closed in over London. Icy rain pattered against the windows and ran down the glass in dull streaks that blurred the details of the street outside. A servant had made up a fire, but even though the coals glowed brightly in the grate Arthur shivered and pulled his plain coat more tightly about his shoulders.

‘There was a time I looked forward to returning to Britain,’ he said quietly. ‘I thought that anything was better than enduring another summer in India. But now? By God, I’d give rank, title and fortune to be back in Mysore. Now that was passing comfortable.’

William smiled faintly. ‘Ah, yes. I’d heard that you and Richard were living like kings amongst the natives.What was the name of that palace you were using?’ He frowned as he tried to recall. ‘Dowley something?’

‘The Dowlut Baugh,’ Arthur replied.‘And it was a summer residence of Tipoo Sultan, not his palace.You really shouldn’t believe everything you hear in London, brother.’

‘I suppose not, but there were stories of the, ah, excesses of opulence that Richard bestowed on himself while he was Governor General. Rumour has it that you did not do so badly out of the situation either.’

‘Stories, William. That’s all. Just stories.’

William pursed his lips. ‘I hope so, for all our sakes. As long as Richard can explain himself to the satisfaction of Parliament when he returns.’

‘He will. And I shall back him to the hilt, as will you and the rest of the family.’

‘Oh, of course.’ William drew himself up in his chair. ‘That goes without saying. And we must make sure that we have secured enough political support to help Richard when - if - there is an investigation.’

Arthur regarded his brother wearily.‘You are referring to Buckingham, I take it?’

‘I am. The man is set to make his mark on the political scene. It would serve our family well if we allied ourselves to him.’

‘Politicians come and go, William. What if your friend Buckingham fails to make his mark? What if we were dragged down with him? Then how could our family hope to wield enough influence to serve Britain effectively? It would be best if we did not align ourselves with any faction. Indeed it would be best if there were no factions for the duration of the war.’ Arthur paused, and thought a moment before continuing. ‘I think it would be risky to tie ourselves to Buckingham.’

‘But what if he succeeds?’ William’s eyes gleamed. ‘Then we might have the pick of the offices of state, and serve Britain to the fullest extent of our abilities. Think of it, Arthur. The Wellesley family would be at the heart of government, where real power resides. That is where we deserve to be.’

Arthur shook his head sadly.‘It seems to me that you care rather too much about power. As I said before, politicians come and go, Tory and Whig alike. They are an ephemeral detail, brother. I will not make political enemies when Britain’s fate hangs by a thread. My ambition, my sole ambition at this moment, is to see Bonaparte and France defeated. I place nothing higher than that. Not party, nor faction, not even the political ambitions of my family. Do you understand? Nothing matters, save the defeat of France.’

William nodded slowly. ‘Perhaps you are right. But one might argue that just as politicians come and go, so do our foreign enemies. And Bonaparte is, after all, just another politician. Might you not exaggerate the danger one man poses to Britain?’

‘No,’ Arthur replied firmly.‘I am certain that he is the greatest threat this island has ever faced. To be sure, Bonaparte is a politician, but he is also a soldier and a statesman and he holds the affections of the mass of his people in his hand. France is an extension of his will, and he means to crush Britain, once and for all. Surely that is obvious to you,William? And that being the case, no Englishman can allow himself to be diverted by petty politics.’

‘Petty politics?’William’s lip curled. ‘Are you so naïve that you think there is any alternative to politics? Why, it is the lifeblood of government. You must embrace politics, Arthur, or let those who do sweep you aside.’

Arthur stared back at him, frowning. There had been a time when William had been principled, priggish even, but now Arthur saw that his brother had succumbed to the base values of those who had made Parliament their home. He felt tired, and unwilling to continue the discussion. If William wanted to play politics Arthur would not dissuade him. But he would not let himself surrender to the same temptation. Even so, however distasteful it might be, Arthur realised that he would have to bend a little in order to serve Britain’s interests. He leaned towards the fire and shovelled some more coals on to the fire.

‘Very well then, William. I will speak to Lord Buckingham.’

William smiled in warm satisfaction. ‘I knew you would see sense. I will broach the matter with him as soon as possible.’

Arthur nodded, and then fixed his brother with a firm look. ‘Mind you, I will not commit myself to his cause.You understand?’

‘I understand. Trust me, you need only talk to the man.’

As the chilly winter days passed and Arthur made his rounds of the social events of the capital he felt as if he was surrounded by enemies, seen and unseen. So it was that when an invitation came from Lord Buckingham to meet him at his grand house at Stowe early in November, Arthur gratefully accepted the chance to escape London for a few days. It would be good to breathe fresh air. Buckingham was known for his love of the hunt and Arthur, who shared the passion, looked forward to the chance to ride again. William let Arthur use his carriage for the journey and, on the morning Arthur left, his brother gently took his arm as he settled into his seat.

‘Remember, this man could be vital to our fortunes. Be careful what you say to him.’

Arthur smiled. ‘Trust me.’

William did not reply immediately, and a moment later the driver flicked his reins. The carriage lurched into motion and William hurriedly withdrew his hand. Arthur settled back and pulled the travelling rug over his body in an effort to keep warm. As soon as the drab grey facades of the city gave way to open country he felt his spirits rise. Despite his fond memories of the kinder months of the Indian climate, Arthur felt a deep contentment in his heart as he gazed out at the English countryside. Even in winter there was a wholesome beauty to the gentle lines of the landscape, broken as they were by small woods of ancient trees whose bare limbs were stark against the sharp air of a clear sky.The route took the carriage past small villages of timbered and brick buildings from whose chimneys thin trails of smoke curled into the blue heavens. After so many years away from Britain, Arthur regarded it all with a keen interest, and a growing sense of passion that this land must never endure the tyranny of Bonaparte.

The latest news from the continent was grim.The first rumours had reached London that an Austrian army had been forced to surrender at Ulm. Despite this reverse, Arthur reflected that the combined weight of the remaining Austrians and the armies of the coalition powers would surely overwhelm France. He pushed the thought aside as he stared out across the gaunt countryside. There was a special history here, one that made its people unique. A tradition that was worthy of preservation and one that he would give the last drop of his blood to defend.

As dusk drew in, the carriage reached Stowe and turned through the entrance to a large sprawl of parkland. A long tree-lined avenue stretched away from the muddy turnpike towards the pitched roofs and towers of a stately home the other side of a small rise in the ground, enough to keep Lord Buckingham’s country seat out of the sight of those travelling along the road that ran past his estate. As the carriage crested the rise,Arthur could see the full extent of the grand house with its lofty classical columns and tall windows. Light spilled out into the gloom and illuminated the neatly trimmed hedges that bordered the formal gardens lying to the side of the main house. The carriage drew up outside the main entrance and a footman trotted smartly down the steps to open the carriage door.

As he stepped down Arthur heard the unmistakable sounds of a large party: a loud hubbub pierced by the higher voices of women. He turned to the footman.

‘Lord Buckingham is entertaining, it would seem.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Arthur frowned. He had brought with him a minimum of formal wear in addition to his hunting attire.There had been no hint of a party in Buckingham’s invitation. ‘I am Sir Arthur Wellesley. I believe Lord Buckingham is expecting me.’

‘Indeed, sir.Your rooms are prepared. May I take your bags and show you the way, sir?’

Arthur nodded, and a moment later followed the footman up the steps into the warm glow of a well-lit entrance hall. Lord Buckingham’s wealth was conspicuously evident in every detail. Large paintings of family members adorned the walls, and gold leaf picked out the details of ornate mouldings in the ceiling high overhead. Opposite the entrance a marble staircase climbed up to a gallery that ran round the hall. On either side classical statuary filled niches painted a pale blue to enhance the lines of their contents. The footman led the way up the stairs and down a corridor into one of the wings, where he paused to open a door for Arthur before following him in with the bags. It was a comfortable chamber with a small dressing room and Arthur gestured to the chest at the end of the bed.

‘Place the bags there, please. I’ll need to change into something suitable before joining the party. How many guests is his lordship entertaining tonight?’

The footman paused to think before he replied. ‘All told, more than a hundred, sir.’

‘Any notables?’

‘Indeed yes, sir. We have the Prime Minister himself here.’

‘Pitt?’ Arthur could not contain a look of surprise.‘Who else, besides the Prime Minister?’

‘Lord Monterey, Lord Paget, Earl Portman, Sir Edward Walsey, to name just a few of them, sir. Quite a gathering.’

‘Yes, it is,’ Arthur said thoughtfully. ‘Thank you.You may go.’

The footman bowed his head. ‘I’ll tell his lordship that you have arrived, then?’

‘Yes, of course.’

As soon as the door had closed behind the man Arthur sat down on the bed with a sigh of frustration. He had assumed that he had been invited for a discreet meeting with Lord Buckingham, a mutual sounding out of opinions and positions. So it was with a heavy heart that he dressed in his best clothes: a plain dark coat, white breeches, silk stockings and buckled shoes. He knew full well that his attire would be rather drab in the whirl of fine lace and satin that would be adorning the great ballroom of his host. He left his room and made his way back downstairs, pausing to take a deep breath before he joined the party.Two footmen stood at the open doors and beyond them Arthur could see the guests, standing in clusters round the edge of the room talking and taking refreshment as a dozen members of a string orchestra took their places at the far end of the salon. Arthur knew Lord Buckingham by sight from his visits to Parliament and made his way across to his host, who was talking animatedly to a slight figure with grey hair standing with his back to Arthur.

‘My Lord Buckingham.’ Arthur bowed as he approached the two men.

Buckingham, a few years older than Arthur and rather more stout, turned his fleshy face towards the new arrival and raised an eyebrow.

‘I’m sorry, sir, you have me at a disadvantage.’

Arthur mentally cringed with embarrassment as he realised that Buckingham had not recognised him. But before he could suffer the humiliation of announcing his name the other man turned round and Arthur saw the familiar features of William Pitt.This was the first time he had been so close to the Prime Minister, and the exhaustion and ill health that was etched into his face shocked Arthur. Fortunately Pitt smiled and grasped Arthur’s hand.

‘Why, it is Sir Arthur Wellesley, the conqueror of the Mahrattas.’

‘You know me, sir?’

Pitt laughed. ‘You have been pointed out to me, Sir Arthur. Besides, I have followed your career, alongside that of your illustrious oldest brother, with great interest over the years. Now I understand that you are seeking a seat.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Arthur admitted. ‘Although I have not had much luck in that respect so far.’

‘I’m sure you will not be kept waiting long. Britain has great need of men of your calibre, on and off the battlefield.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

Pitt still held Arthur’s hand and fixed him with a steady gaze as he continued. ‘Of course, I would hope that you might support my premiership when you do secure a seat. I could use a man like you in government.’

Lord Buckingham suddenly laughed. ‘You are ever the politician, William! Please spare my guest your wiles for the evening. Come, Sir Arthur, let me tear you away from this scoundrel and introduce you to some people of more honest disposition.You will know many here, but not all.’

Pitt released his grip, but raised his hand to stop Buckingham from making off with Arthur. ‘In a moment. First I would like to hear the young general’s opinion on the matter we were discussing.’

‘Surely there is a better time for that,’ Buckingham protested. ‘Besides, the man is here to enjoy himself, not to be interrogated by scheming reprobates such as ourselves.’

Pitt glanced at his host shrewdly.‘Whatever his reason for being here, I am certain it is not wholly for pleasure. So let him speak his mind.’

‘Oh, I doubt that Sir Arthur would be interested in our debate, William. He is a soldier, freshly returned from the battlefield. It would be unfair to expect him to have grasped the niceties of the governance of Britain and her foreign relations.’

‘Perhaps, but then again Sir Arthur might be sufficiently unspoiled by political faction-fighting to offer a fresh perspective. Would you indulge us, Sir Arthur?’

Arthur nodded slightly.‘I would be pleased to offer what assistance I may, sir.’

‘Very well,’ Pitt responded decisively before Buckingham could make any further attempt to draw Arthur away. ‘Now then, Sir Arthur, the heart of the debate rests on the course that Britain should chart in the near future.You may not yet be aware, but we have received a fresh peace overture from the French government.’

‘I had not heard of this, sir.’

‘Ah, but I am sure you soon will. Secrets have a way of leaching out no matter how closely my ministers and I attempt to keep them. In any case, it is not clear if the provenance of the French offer to talk peace is Bonaparte himself, or Talleyrand and his coterie.’ Pitt arched an enquiring eyebrow at Arthur. ‘The question is what to do about it.’

Arthur thought rapidly. He stood in front of two of the most powerful figures in Britain, men who could determine his destiny on a whim. Having decided that he would not play at partisan politics, he was now faced with a test of his ability to avoid taking sides. He cleared his throat.

‘Well, sir, whoever may be behind this peace overture, I suspect that it is not Bonaparte.’

‘Really?’ Buckingham’s brow creased faintly. ‘On what basis?’

‘It doesn’t seem likely, my lord, when one considers what is readily known to those who read the papers in London. Even now Bonaparte has launched his army against the Austrians. That does not seem to be the action of a man who desires peace.’

‘Quite so.’ Pitt nodded. ‘It seems we share a common view on the matter.’

‘It is still possible that the Emperor does desire peace,’ Buckingham insisted. ‘He has disbanded the army poised on the French coast for the last year. Surely that is a sign of his good intentions with respect to Britain.’

‘The army is not disbanded,’ Arthur replied. ‘It has merely been redirected against the Austrians.’

‘Ah, well, then perhaps Austria’s danger is to our advantage. Napoleon would not be wise to fight on two fronts.’ Buckingham shifted his gaze to the Prime Minister. ‘If the latest reports from the continent are to be believed, Russia is already marching to Austria’s aid. Against the additional forces from Sweden and those we ourselves intend to send to Hanover, what chance has the Emperor? Faced with the threat of defeat, Napoleon will make any peace deal he can get.’

Pitt shook his head wearily.‘You misunderstand our enemy, my lord. Even if Bonaparte did make peace with us, do you imagine he would actually honour the terms of any treaty he put his name to?’

Buckingham looked surprised. ‘He is Emperor of France. His name would be signed on behalf of every man, woman and child of that country.To break the terms of such a treaty would bring down infamy on France.’

‘Infamy?’ Pitt snorted.‘If Britain falls under the heel of this Corsican tyrant, the charge of infamy will be of poor comfort to those who live here.’

Buckingham was silent for a moment before he continued, in a low voice,‘It seems that you have not lost your appetite for war, Mr Pitt. For over ten years now you have been instrumental in keeping our nation in a state of conflict. How much longer must our people be forced to endure this obsession of yours? How many millions of pounds have been expended? How many good men have died because of it?’

Arthur glanced towards the Prime Minister to gauge his reaction to Buckingham’s harsh accusations.There was no anger in Pitt’s expression, nor even a trace of moral indignation, just the weary resolve of a man who had long since committed his life to one end.

‘Sir,’ Arthur intervened. ‘It is the lot of a soldier to face danger on behalf of his country.’

‘Of course it is,’ Buckingham replied soothingly. ‘But there is no virtue in fighting an unnecessary war, particularly when an offer of peace is on the table.’

‘There can be no peace with France,’ said Pitt.‘Not while she is ruled by Bonaparte, and those responsible for the revolution. That is the melancholy truth of the situation, my lord. So there can be no rest for men like Sir Arthur until Bonaparte is defeated once and for all. Now, you may disagree with me on this.That is your privilege. But I assure you, if Britain falls, then we will be ruled by a man who does not tolerate disagreement.Would you have us live under such a tyrant, my lord?’

‘You should not believe everything you read in the London papers,’ Buckingham replied bitterly. ‘The Emperor is open to reason.’

‘I wish you were right. Truly.’ Pitt sighed sadly. ‘But in my heart I know, with certainty, that you are wrong. Since we disagree, I see no purpose in prolonging this discussion. Now, if you will pardon me?’ Pitt bowed his head, stepped back a pace, and turned away to walk slowly across to a group of women clustered around the handsome young Lord Paget. As he approached, the crowd parted and flowed around him while the women glowed with pride at the attention being paid to them by the Prime Minister. Arthur watched him for a moment, noticing that Pitt was clearly exhausted and did little to hide his frailty as his slender shoulders slumped.

‘Come, Sir Arthur!’ Buckingham suddenly grasped his arm and drew Arthur in the opposite direction. ‘A friend of mine wishes to speak to you. I told her you would be here tonight, and you and she have a close friend in common, it would seem.’

Lord Buckingham did not elaborate, and a short while later Arthur found himself being presented to a couple somewhat older than himself.The man was tall and thin and had the reserved air of one who held himself in high regard. Beside him his wife was short and plump, with an ample bosom and bright sparkling eyes that gleamed with an easy-going hint of mischief.

Buckingham bowed to the lady as he made the introductions. ‘Sir Arthur Wellesley, it is my pleasure to present General Charles Sparrow and his charming wife, Olivia.’ Buckingham exchanged a quick smile with the woman and then continued. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to attend to some other guests. I am sure that you will have plenty to say to each other, Olivia, my dear.’

Once their host had moved on General Sparrow gave Arthur a cursory examination. ‘Wellesley? Any relation of the recent Governor General of India?’

‘My brother.’

Mr Sparrow’s wife swatted him playfully. ‘Oh, Charles! You know that perfectly well. Don’t play the fool with the young man.’

‘Oh, very well.’ General Sparrow’s face creased into an amused smile. ‘I’ve heard a great deal about your recent exploits, as it happens.’

‘Really?’

‘Unfortunately, most of it is second hand, gleaned from the letters my wife receives.’

‘Letters?’ Arthur frowned. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand.’

‘Sir Arthur.’ Olivia took his arm and beamed, revealing two rows of small, sharp-looking teeth.‘I am a firm friend of someone you know, or knew, exceedingly well. Miss Kitty Pakenham, to be precise.’

Arthur stared at her for an instant, a sudden surge of passion coursing through his heart. He swallowed and tried hard to contain his feelings as he tilted his head slightly to one side. ‘Miss Pakenham . . . Kitty. And might I enquire after her health?’

‘I should hope so!’ Olivia Sparrow burst into laughter. ‘Especially since she has written simply volumes to me concerning her feelings regarding you, Sir Arthur.’

‘She has?’ Arthur could not hide his surprise. In the years he had been in India, he and Kitty had exchanged a handful of letters, mostly about the affairs of friends and family and more general news. Arthur adopted a neutral expression. ‘I am sure that you exaggerate, Mrs Sparrow.’

‘Me? Exaggerate?’ She clasped a hand to her breast with a pained look and then quickly broke into another smile. ‘Well, perhaps just a little. But I know the girl’s mind, Sir Arthur, and her heart. She has missed you greatly.You should write to her.’

‘That’s enough, my dear,’ her husband broke in. ‘As ever, you go too far with other people’s confidences.’

Olivia stared meekly at her husband before leaning closer to Arthur and squeezing his hand. ‘Write to her.’

‘Er, yes, of course,’ Arthur replied awkwardly.

General Sparrow cleared his throat. ‘Sir Arthur, as a soldier, tell me, what chance has Bonaparte got of beating the Austrians in the present conflict?’

It was a clumsy attempt to divert the conversation away from his wife’s gossip, but Arthur was grateful not to have to talk about Kitty in front of them. His mind was filled with a jumble of images and emotions, and he needed time to consider his intentions towards her. For now he forced himself to focus on General Sparrow’s question.

‘The Austrians have a large enough army to counter Bonaparte,’ he began. ‘If the Russians join forces with them in time, they will outnumber the French overwhelmingly. I am no expert on the relative merits of the soldiery, but I have heard that the Austrians are well disciplined and brave, and their cavalry is without equal. However, the Frenchman has proved time and again to be a most valiant and hardy individual. He can outmarch any enemy, and fight like a demon at the end of the day. He is also well led by young commanders who can inspire their men to great acts of courage. And then, of course, there is Bonaparte himself.That man is perhaps the most brilliant general of our age. His very presence on the battlefield is worth ten thousand men.’

‘You speak as if you admire him, Sir Arthur.’

‘Admire him?’ Arthur thought for a moment and then shook his head. ‘I might have admired him once, when he was just a soldier. But now? No. He is a tyrant, and all his achievements are mere symptoms of that evil.’

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.