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  'Let me go.'

  'In good time. After we've had our fun. Get him up, over that bench.'

  He was seized again, dragged across the floor of the stable and thrust face first over a low bench. Hands held his shoulders down while someone raised the hem of his nightshirt and threw it up over his back to expose his buttocks. Napoleon kicked out his legs and felt his foot strike home.

  'Ouch! Why, you little shit!' A moment later there was a sharp blow to the side of his head and the world went bright white for an instant. As he winced at the pain, Napoleon's chest convulsed.

  'Tears won't save you now, Buona Parte… Shall we get started, gentlemen?'

  'Wait. He's not here yet.'

  'Too bad.'

  'Someone's gone to wake him. He'll be here. He won't want to miss the entertainment.'

  For a while no one else spoke and the only sound was the heavy breathing of the young Corsican. Then the door scraped open behind him.

  'At last. I was about to give up on you.You going to join in?'

  'No,' said the newcomer, and Napoleon recognised the voice instantly. Alexander de Fontaine. 'I'll just watch.'

  'As you will. Pass me that cane.'

  Napoleon heard someone approach behind him. There was a swishing sound and an instant later he felt the first blow strike his buttocks with a searing pain that stung like a burn as the cane was drawn back for the first of many more blows. As the second stroke whipped down, Napoleon screamed.

  Chapter 18

  London, 1779

  Early in spring Arthur and his brothers landed in Bristol and took a coach to London.When they reached Windsor they saw ahead a thick grimy haze hanging over the landscape like some sick bloom. As the coach drew ever closer to the capital they began to make out the silhouettes of St Paul's and Westminster amid the trails of smoke filtering up into still sky.The countryside gave way to the first paved streets and the boys began to get a sense of the true scale of the city and marvelled at its vastness, completely dwarfing the pretensions of Dublin. Then the buildings rose in height on either side and blocked the view as the coach weaved through increasingly heavy traffic. The noise of wheels and hoofs on the paved roads, and the confusion of shouts from pedestrians and street-criers assaulted the boys' ears. But these did nothing to diminish their excitement and their keenly anticipated reunion with the rest of the family.

  At length the coach turned into a large yard close to King's Cross, where several other coaches already stood, some recently arrived and others making ready to depart. Piles of manure littered the yard, the odour mixed with the bitter tang of smoke and soot as the boys climbed down from the coach.

  'Master Richard! Sir!' A voice cut through the air, and Arthur caught sight of O'Shea, waving his hand to attract their attention as he ran across the yard, weaving through the heaps of manure. He drew up, panting and then coughing in the acrid atmosphere. 'I've come to fetch you to the house. How was the journey, young masters?'

  'Fine, thank you,' Richard smiled. 'It's good to see you again. Who else is at the house?'

  'Oh, just misself, from old Dangan, sir. Rest of the staff was taken on in London. On a better wage than I've ever had, so it is.'

  O'Shea called over some porters to take the boys' school trunks to a small cab, drawn by a single horse, and then they set off through the streets towards the address their father had leased in Knightsbridge. As the sun set there was only a gradual diminution of the light in the haze that hung over the city, and by the time they reached the steps leading up to the front door a profound gloom had closed in about them, illuminated only by the wan glow of lamps and candles in the windows of the buildings they passed. Only a few flickering streetlamps provided further lighting in some of the wider thoroughfares.

  'Here we are, young masters!' O'Shea announced, pausing before a flight of steps leading up to a pillared portico. 'Your new home.'

  He led the way up the steps, knocked on the door and then stepped respectfully to one side as they waited for it to be opened. With an unfamiliar clatter of a bolt the door swung inwards and a sallow-faced footman inspected them.

  'Yes, sir?' He addressed Richard, before catching sight of O'Shea and the porters. 'Ah, you must be the sons of His Lordship.'

  'Indeed we are!' said Richard, leading his brothers inside. O'Shea nodded to the porters and they left the trunks in the hall, waited for the fee and tugged the brims of their caps in acknowledgement before returning to the street.The door closed behind them.

  Richard looked around the attractively panelled and papered entrance hall. 'Very nice. Please inform my parents that we have arrived.'

  The footman bowed his head a fraction. 'I'm sorry, sir. Lord and Lady Mornington are not at home. They are attending a function.They left instructions that you were to be fed when you arrived and a cold buffet has been prepared in the dining room.'

  'When are they coming back?' asked Arthur with a concerned expression.

  'Not until much later, sir. Now, if you'd allow me to take your coats, I will show you through to the dining room.'

  'Cheer up, Arthur!' Richard gently squeezed his arm. 'We'll wait up for them.'

  'I'm afraid that's not possible, sir,' the footman called over his shoulder as he hung the coats on pegs in a shallow cupboard by the front door. 'Her Ladyship said that you would be tired from your long journey and should get a good night's sleep as soon as dinner was over.They look forward to seeing you at breakfast, sir.'

  'I see. And where are Anne, Gerald and Henry?'

  'They have already been sent to bed, sir.'

  'Oh…'

  'Is that all, sir? May I take you through to the dining room now, sir?'

  'Yes… I suppose so.'

  Although the boys ate heartily, there was a peculiar sense of despondency hanging over the table, and as soon as the footman had served their cuts of meat and retired from the room William leaned closer to his brothers and whispered, 'They might have stayed in for us. After all, they haven't seen us for absolutely ages.'

  'Bad timing,' Richard shrugged.'It happens. Besides, it has been a long journey, and I, for one, am utterly exhausted. Good night's sleep will do me wonders and I'll be fresh for the parents first thing tomorrow.'

  'I suppose so,' William muttered. 'But all the same…'

  Arthur felt too tired to eat more than a few slices of pork and then he placed his knife and fork together and sat back and waited for his brothers to finish eating. Glancing over the room, he saw that it was comfortable enough and well maintained, but it was a fraction of the scale of Dangan. Then his gaze switched to the window. The dining room was on the first floor and overlooked the street. Outside, in the gloom a solitary hackney cab trotted past like a grey fish in a dirty aquarium through the stained and pitted glass.

  After dinner he was shown up to a narrow room off a short corridor on the fourth floor of the house. A brass bed lay beneath a sash window. The clothes from his trunk had already been unpacked and neatly folded away in a large wardrobe. He undressed, slipped on his nightshirt and then climbed under the covers and lay down. For a while, sleep would not come and he sat listening for any sound of his parents' return. But the house was quiet and the only sounds were the occasional muffled clop and clatter of a carriage in the street below. Far away a distant bell chimed the passing of another hour.

  Arthur woke to find a pale beam of light shining directly on to his face. For a moment he was startled and confused by the setting.Then the previous night's arrival came back to him and he threw back the covers and hurriedly dressed. He had no precise idea of the time and feared that the rest of the family was already at breakfast.The prospect of being reunited with his parents filled his heart with a warm glow, and as soon as he had laced up his boots he ran downstairs in a cascade of thuds. On the first floor he slid to a halt and changed direction towards the dining room. The door was slightly ajar and he wrenched it open and ran in, breathless and smiling.

  'Morning, Arthur,' Richard said q
uietly. He was the only person in the room. The table was laid for breakfast but none of the settings had been disturbed.

  Arthur frowned. 'Where is everybody?'

  'Still in bed.'

  'Oh…'

  'You might as well join me. I've sent for tea and some lamb chops.'

  Arthur crossed the room and pulled out a chair opposite his eldest brother. 'What time is it?'

  'Half-past seven. Or it was when I asked a little white ago.'

  'Half-past seven!' Arthur could not hide his astonishment. Back in Dangan, everyone would have finished breakfast long ago. 'Do you think they're all ill?'

  'William's a heavy sleeper, but the others…?' Richard shrugged.

  An elderly maid entered the dining room from a small service door in one corner. She carried a tray to the table and quietly set it down beside Richard. She removed the cover from a plate to reveal some lamb chops still steaming.

  'Will there be anything else, sir?'

  'No, thank you.'

  She looked up. 'Will the other gentleman require anything?'

  'Some tea, please. And bread. And do you know what time my parents will be joining us?'

  'Tea and bread.Very well, sir. As to the other matter, I cannot say. They did not return until after midnight. On such occasions they are rarely to breakfast before nine o'clock.'

  'Nine o'clock!' Arthur exclaimed. 'But that's half the morning gone.'

  'You might say that, sir.'

  'What about Anne and Gerald?'

  'They were fed earlier, sir. Their nanny has taken them for a walk. Now, if I may, I'll fetch your breakfast.'

  She turned and disappeared through the service door. Arthur looked at his brother helplessly. 'She can't be right.'

  'We'll see.'

  Richard ate his lamb chops and then sat waiting while Arthur chewed at his bread. Shortly before eight o'clock William entered the dining room and was as puzzled as the others at the absence of the rest of the family. Finally, at quarter to nine, the sound of the parents' voices could be heard and a moment later they entered the dining room, still in their nightclothes. Lady Mornington clapped her hands to her cheeks. 'My darlings!'

  She rushed round the table to deliver kisses to her sons, and then took her seat with a smile as Lord Mornington assumed his place at the head of the table with a smile.'Good to see you again, boys.'

  'We arrived last night,' Richard said curtly.'And you were out.'

  'That's right,' his mother answered. 'There was a ball at the DeVries place on Mayfair.We simply couldn't refuse. Please don't take on so. Not when we haven't seen you for so many months.'

  'Which is why I thought you might be keen to see us.'

  'And I am, I am, Richard dear. But you must understand, it's so important to make the right connections in London. Really, if we could have possibly avoided last night's soiree we would have. Isn't that so, Garrett?'

  'Yes. And I think Richard might show a little more gratitude for all our efforts to smooth the path to good society for him and his brothers.'

  Richard swallowed. 'I am grateful, Father. Truly.'

  'There!' Anne smiled.'I told you he'd be pleased. Boys, you are going to love it here. There's so much going on. So many interesting people to meet. I can't wait to present you to my friends.'

  'I'm looking forward to it, Mother.'

  'And please don't speak that way, Richard.'

  He looked puzzled. 'What way?'

  'With that accent. It really won't do in London society. Makes you sound so… provincial.'

  'Provincial?' Richard looked surprised. 'It's how I've always spoken.'

  'Precisely,' his father cut in.'And that's why it must change.You don't want society making assumptions about you.That applies to you two as well. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it soon enough. Things are different here, and you must make every effort to fit in unless you want to be cut from everyone's list. I'm sure you wouldn't want that to happen to your mother and me, as a consequence of any mistake that you might make.' Garrett looked at his eldest son fixedly.

  'We understand, Father.'

  'Good! That's settled. Now we can enjoy ourselves. Oh, I nearly forgot! Arthur, I've found a new school for you. Brown's in Chelsea.Term starts next week. I'm sure you are looking forward to it.'

  Arthur smiled weakly.

  'Make a nice change from that backwater at Trim.'

  'I quite liked Trim,' Arthur replied. 'Once I got used to it. And Dr Buckleby was a fine teacher.'

  'Yes, yes, he was. How was he when you left? He must be getting on.'

  'He is old, but his mind is sharp.' Arthur looked up brightly. 'He wrote a piece of music for me. I have it upstairs. Would you like me to fetch it?'

  'There'll be plenty of time to see his little ditty later, Arthur. Perhaps we can find some time to sit down together and play it through.'

  'I'd like that.'

  'But not today. I have a head like a blacksmith's and I need to lie down this morning.'

  Anne rang the small handbell on the table. When the maid appeared she ordered coffee to be sent to her bedroom and rose from the table.

  'Now, boys, I must get ready for the day. Please feel free to explore your new home. You can play with the others in the nursery when they return. Then, after lunch we can take a carriage to Cortfields and have you three measured up for some proper clothes. Until later.' She turned and waved over her shoulder without looking round.

  'Well,' Garrett smiled, 'I need to rest my head. It's good to see you again.'

  Once he had left the room the three boys were alone again. Arthur felt that an important bond with his father had been broken and he feared that it would never be restored.

  Chapter 19

  Brown's in Chelsea was an undistinguished prep school on the fringe of a fashionable area. Arthur was escorted to school early each morning by O'Shea. The headmaster was a bilious ex-army officer, Major Blyth, whose educational philosophy was that a curriculum needed to be limited to the fewest possible skills delivered in the most repetitious manner. William had been sent to Eton and Richard had gone up to Oxford as soon as a place had been found for him at one of the colleges. Accordingly, the house felt strangely empty and, since it was rented, very impersonal. The thick, gritty air of the city became even more of a stew as spring gave way to summer and the almost permanent haze that hung over the centre of London shrouded its inhabitants in a sweltering gloom that depressed Arthur's spirits.

  By the time he returned from school it was suppertime, and more often than not he ate with his younger siblings while his parents dressed for yet another engagement. When it was not a ball, or a party, it was the theatre, occasionally opera or even a prizefight. His father was still composing and had scheduled a series of free public concerts at venues across the city. However, the busy social scene left Garrett too little time for recital sessions with his son and Arthur was left to practise alone in his room. At first he made a great effort to learn Dr Buckleby's composition, but time passed and his father showed no sign of setting aside a few moments to hear the piece.

  Occasionally there was a family outing. Usually it was to one of Garrett's concerts, in order to boost the numbers in the audience and Anne prompted them to wild applause after each piece. At other times the children were taken to the races or cricket, and were frequently left in the care of one of the staff while their parents circulated amongst the other aristocrats and swapped invitations. Whenever Lord and Lady Mornington entertained at home the children were expected to keep discreetly out of the way in their rooms or the nursery.Thanks to the war in the American colonies the capital was filled with the colourful uniforms of officers either on their way out to fight the traitor General Washington and his ragtag army, or recently returned from campaigning. From what Arthur heard from such men the war was not going as well as the London papers implied.

  In any case, the people of the capital were concerned with events much closer to home that summer of 1780. Lord George Gordon
, a fervent opponent of the Church of Rome, had been stirring up the London mob. At a series of public meetings he claimed that there was a conspiracy behind the Catholic Relief Acts that had been passed two years earlier to restore some of their civil rights. Arthur and his father had been walking in Hyde Park one Sunday when they came across a crowd listening to one of Gordon's fiery attacks on the Catholics plotting to seize power in England. Gordon, red-faced and spluttering, punched his fists into the air as he raged against his enemies, and played his audience like a cheap fiddle. Their grumbling assent to his rhetoric soon turned into a seething expression of hatred. It was the first time that Arthur had witnessed the raw emotions of the mob and the experience frightened him.

  'Father.' He tugged Garrett's hand. 'Please can we go home? That man is scaring me.'

  An old woman with black, crooked teeth overheard the remark and leered at Arthur. 'Why bless you, young 'un, that's 'is point. We've plenty to be scared of. Them Catholics'll 'ave us for breakfast, less we 'ave 'em first!'

  Garrett stepped between them. 'Please leave my son alone.'

  She glared at him. 'I'm only tellin' 'im the truth, sir. Best he knows it, 'fore it's too late.'

  Garrett, holding tightly to Arthur's hand, eased them away from the old woman. He paused a moment longer, listening to Gordon's impassioned ranting, and gauging the response of the crowd. Then he said to his son, 'He's scaring me too. Come, let's go, before there's trouble.'

  At the start of June a crowd gathered outside the Houses of Parliament, and shouted their fury at the politicians as Gordon and his followers stoked up their rage with yet more speeches and pamphlets. Inevitably the mob turned to violence and in the days that followed,Arthur saw thick clouds of smoke spiral into the sky as the mob raged through the streets of the East End. On the morning of 7 June, on the way to school, Arthur had had to stand in a shop front while a drunken mob of men marched past, yelling anti-Catholic slogans, as they hurried to join the rioters. He stared at them in wide-eyed fright until they had passed by, and then ran the rest of the way to school.