‘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.
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
