Inferno

Chapter 1

Eskdale Hall, Wiltshire, England. Summer 1807

The night had turned unseasonally chilly. Captain Sir Thomas Kydd sat before the fire with his particular friend, the Earl of Farndon, and his wife, who also happened to be Sir Thomas’s sister. The evening’s reception and stately ball had been accounted the most splendid held for many years, and he’d been introduced to a dizzying quantity of the county’s highest society, who’d been particularly attentive to the acclaimed sea hero. But now he gazed vacantly into the flames.

‘Are you not enjoying your Armagnac, Thomas?’ Cecilia asked in concern. ‘Nicholas keeps back his ’seventy-nine for your visits alone, my dear.’

‘Pray take no notice of me, sis. I’m in a complicated mood.’

‘Oh? What can this mean?’ she teased.

‘To tell it straight, Cec, my intellects are in a whirl for all the fanfaronade since we made port, and I’ve a mort of things to think on. I confess what I crave most is nothing more than to sit and stare at a wall for above a day.’

‘Well, I’ll allow the lot of a public hero is an active one.’ Lord Farndon – or Nicholas Renzi as he would always be known to his bosom friend – set down his glass and smiled indulgently. ‘Now, my dear fellow, you cannot persuade me that it was all of it a burden beyond bearing. I do recollect your distinct pleasure in telling me of the subscription dinner by members of the Exchange and the presentation of silver at its conclusion.’

‘Yes, that was handsomely done. Baltic traders at the Virginia and Baltick in Threadneedle Street in appreciation of my contribution to the safeguarding of their interests, even if I’m at a loss to fathom why an action in support of the Prussians counts as that.’

‘But that nasty fuss in the newspapers!’ Cecilia added, her face stormy. ‘Such words about your-’

‘Those scurvy villains are a contemptible crew and I’ll thank you to pay no mind to ’em, sis.’

Recalling the bitter turmoil that had followed a True Briton report of Kydd’s opinions after the notorious Popham trial, Renzi chuckled. ‘Well, that’s certainly no longer of any consequence to your sea prospects. Have you not received an intimation of the Admiralty’s entire satisfaction at your conduct?’

‘I did that,’ Kydd agreed. ‘A private letter from the first lord wishing to assure me of his continued interest in my naval career.’

‘Just so.’

‘And this is a rum one, Nicholas. Lord Camden, somebody big in government, wants me to be a Member of Parliament in the Tory interest.’

‘Why not, Thomas?’ Cecilia squealed. ‘You’d make a splendid figure standing up in the House with a speech as will make the scoundrels sit up and listen.’

‘No, sis. I’ve no hankering after arguments all the day long. Besides, when will I have time to take Tyger to sea?’

Renzi looked fondly at his friend. ‘So, Kydd of the Tyger it is, to be sure. Long may he sail the high seas against the King’s enemies!’

There was a trace of wistful envy in his voice, which Kydd knew came not from any wish to be a celebrated hero like himself but the knowledge that he could no longer taste the freedom of the sea in all its lure and mystery.

‘On another matter entirely,’ Renzi added quickly. ‘You said Toby Stirk – or is that Gunner’s Mate Stirk – did survive his injury?’ Renzi and Stirk had been with Kydd since his first days as a pressed man, and Renzi had seen him learn much from the leathery old seaman.

‘He did, Nicholas. Hard as nails but he was sadly knocked about and dead to the world for near two days. Came round after we arrived at Sheerness. We had the devil’s own job getting the beggar to agree to go ashore to the hospital for observing, and only my personal vow he wouldn’t be removed for another in Tyger had him off.’

Renzi gave a half-smile. ‘Dear fellow, I own I’m at the loftiest rank of society but there are moments I’d give it all away to possess the true-hearted devotion of the ship’s company of a fighting frigate like Tyger …’