‘A most indirect route to Paris, I should say.’
‘That is the beauty of it, sir. It would stretch Bonaparte’s resources to the limit. Given France’s position on the continent, he enjoys interior lines of communications for all his forays into northern Italy,Austria and the German states. But Spain and Portugal are out on a limb.Any troops he sends to support Spain will be drawn from the armies opposed to Russia, Austria and Prussia. Even Bonaparte cannot endure if he is fully committed to fighting on two fronts. He will have to divide his attention, and his men, between the two. And there is a third front to consider, sir.The home front, as it were.While Bonaparte races from one end of his empire to the other there will be ample scope to encourage discontent amongst his own people.’
Arthur paused to give the Prime Minister time to take in the details and then continued in a more deliberate tone. ‘Of course, there will be risks. If our army is defeated on the Peninsula I have little doubt that public support for the war will fail. That means that whoever is commanding the army must look to its safety as his first priority. Furthermore, the government will need to accept that this is no mere incursion to discomfort our enemies. They will need to commit men and resources to the Peninsular army on a scale that has never been seen before. They will also need to be prepared to maintain it in the field for some years. I do not see this as a question of striking one mortal blow at the enemy, rather a methodical and incremental destruction of his will to continue the fight. Our army will be compelled to fight on the defensive at first, but as it gains experience and confidence it can be deployed to attack, the moment circumstances are propitious. I have seen our men fight in India and I have little doubt that our infantry, in line, can cut down the French columns as they advance to attack.’
‘Then why the need for time to harden our army, if the men are ready?’
Arthur smiled slightly.‘I said the infantry, sir. Our cavalry, alas, is fairly lamentable in terms of quality and discipline.They need toughening up. There should be more of them and they must understand their role both on campaign and on the battlefield. We have the raw ingredients of a fine army, sir.We just need the time to mould the different elements together.’
‘I see.’ Pitt mused for a moment and then leaned back into his seat, his body jolting lightly as the carriage trundled along the turnpike.Then he nodded. ‘Your arguments make fine sense, Sir Arthur. I will have the matter looked into thoroughly. Spain, then, will be where Bonaparte’s empire begins to unravel . . .’
Chapter 12
The mood in the capital was mixed.The news of the great victory won at Trafalgar had brought great excitement and joy to the people of all classes. But the sense of triumph was muted by the public grief over the death of Nelson, and as Arthur passed through the streets and saw the black-ribboned portraits of the admiral in the windows of shops, offices and homes, he could not help wondering at it. Here was a man known to the vast majority of Britain only by virtue of his reputation and yet the people grieved for him as if he was one of their family. In spite of the irrationality of such a seemingly universal response, Arthur felt moved that one man could have such a hold on the emotions of all those in Britain. He wondered if, when his time came, there would be a similar outpouring of grieving, and then shook his head with a bitter smile.The achievements of the Wellesley brothers in India were of minor significance to the British public. If a soldier was to achieve any kind of reputation in this world, it had to be won on the battlefields of the continent.
Arthur had not forgotten Lord Buckingham’s mention of an expeditionary force to be sent in support of the coalition armies marching against Bonaparte, and he was determined that he should be part of it. He made his request for a posting immediately on his return to London and anxiously awaited a response.
Meanwhile, his thoughts turned to Kitty, and Olivia Sparrow’s insistence that she had not cooled towards him. It hardly seemed credible after so long a time apart. And yet he felt a warm ache in his heart at the thought of her as she was, and as she might be now. He murmured her name idly to himself as he entered a coffee house.The atmosphere inside was thick with the aromas of tobacco smoke and coffee, and a fire glowed in the centre of the shop.There were no spare tables and Arthur asked if he might share one that sat in the bay window overlooking the street. The other customer at the table, a bewigged man who looked to be younger than Arthur, barely glanced over the top of his newspaper as he nodded his assent, and then carried on reading.
Arthur ordered tea, and sat and stared out through the recently cleaned glass. Outside the passers-by, wrapped up and hunched into their collars, strolled quickly along, oblivious of his gaze. Life continued as normal, then. Despite the war on the continent, the triumph at Trafalgar and the death of Nelson. What would Kitty think of it all, he wondered.Would the constant procession of officers in gaudy uniforms in Dublin’s streets impress her, or would the whittling down of her old acquaintances have depressed her spirits? And would she be old enough now to have outgrown the careless pursuits of youth? Would she have changed that much?
His tea was served, and Arthur raised the cup and gently inhaled the steam curling up from the clear brown liquid that brought back faint memories of India. For a moment he stared down into the cup, frowning faintly.Then he set it down with a sharp rap and sat back. Fumbling for some coins to pay for the drink, he rose and left the shop. Outside he turned deliberately in the direction of the address that Olivia Sparrow had sent to him on her return to London.
‘Sir Arthur! What a delightful surprise!’ Mrs Sparrow smiled widely as she flowed into the parlour and held out her hand. Arthur took it and kissed it lightly before waiting for her to be seated, and then following suit.
‘Well, it’s not such a great surprise really,’ Mrs Sparrow continued with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. ‘I assume there is more to this than a passing visit.’
‘Indeed. There is something that is perhaps dear to my heart and I would know more.’
‘Something? Surely you mean someone?’
‘Yes. Kitty.’ Now it was out, he would not indulge in coyness. ‘You said that she had written to you about me. I should be grateful to know what she has said.’
Mrs Sparrow smiled. ‘Of course. But first, Arthur, there are a few things I should tell you about what has occurred since you left for India.’
‘Oh?’ Arthur felt a sick feeling stir in the pit of his stomach. ‘Go on, please.’
‘You do know that she loved you before you left?’
‘She intimated as much,’ Arthur replied carefully.‘And I returned the sentiment. But that was not sufficient for her older brother. He was kind enough to point out that no man with any integrity would let his sister wed a lowly army officer with few prospects.’
‘And now you have wealth and title.’ Mrs Sparrow nodded. ‘And every prospect of further fame and fortune. So there can be no further objection on that front.You must admit that her brother acted correctly in defending her best interest.’
