Fire and Sword r-3 Page 12

  ‘How can you know that, sir?’

  Pitt raised a hand to silence Arthur. ‘Before you say another word, and spoil my growing regard for you, spare me any of the polite platitudes men lavish on those they know will die. I am a sick man, Sir Arthur. My doctor’s opinion, for what it’s worth, is that I will endure for a few months, a year at the most, before my life gives out.Therefore I must not waste a moment of what time is left to me. If Britain is to win this war of wars I must do all that is in my power to ensure that I leave my country in the hands of the best men, and give them the means to defeat Bonaparte.That is why I wish to speak to you now.There are two matters I want to discuss. Firstly there is the question of what happens to your brother, Richard, when he returns to Britain.’ The Prime Minister stared at Arthur for a moment before continuing. ‘I know that the Wellesleys are a close-knit family. I know that you served your brother loyally, and with great credit, while you were in India. However, I am generally a good judge of character, Sir Arthur, and I believe you will be straight with me.’

  ‘I will do my best to be as honest as I may, sir,’ Arthur replied carefully.

  ‘I could expect no more,’ Pitt conceded. ‘So, then, I have read the reports sent to me by the board of directors of the East India Company, as well as your own representations and those of your brother William. The Company’s main allegation is that your brother misappropriated vast sums of Company funds and equipment. Is that true?’

  ‘Establishing peace and order across India did not come without cost, sir. It is true that Richard authorised the use of several million pounds of funds and equipment belonging to the company. But there was no dishonesty. He did not misappropriate anything. You have my word on it.’

  ‘Your word?’ Pitt was silent for a moment as he gazed shrewdly at Arthur.Then he nodded slowly.‘Very well. I think I am satisfied that the, er, Wellesley system of government in India was sound. I will do my best to see that your brother, and you, are protected from political persecution. But I offer no guarantees, do you understand?’

  ‘I would ask for none, sir. Only a fair hearing and a just outcome.’

  Pitt smiled wryly.‘If you think you’ll get that in Parliament then you are a madman, Sir Arthur.’

  ‘Then maybe I had better stay as far from Parliament as I can.’

  ‘Yes, that would be wise. I sense that you do not yet have the venal temperament that a career in politics requires. Such a gross deficiency dictates service to your country in some other sphere.’

  ‘A sacrifice I am willing to make, for Britain,’ Arthur replied, and they both laughed, Pitt so much so that he suddenly began to cough violently, and he clutched a hand to his mouth as his lined features clenched into a grimace. Arthur, fearful for the man’s health, leaned closer and reached out hesitantly.

  ‘Sir? Are you all right?’

  Pitt waved a hand dismissively, and closed his eyes as he fought off the coughing fit. When at last it was over he took a deep breath and puffed out his cheeks.

  ‘God, I needed that. It has been a while since I laughed so heartily, Sir Arthur.’

  ‘It is perhaps as well, given the effect on your constitution, sir.’

  ‘I am fine, really I am. Laughter is the best medicine, so they say, though there has been precious little to laugh about in the last few years. And now this business at Trafalgar . . .’ Pitt’s expression hardened. ‘It is a bad blow for Britain that Nelson has been taken from us. The people need heroes. They need men who can win victories and prove that Bonaparte can be defeated.’

  Arthur nodded.

  ‘The difficulty for us,’ Pitt continued thoughtfully, ‘is that our military power rests on the shoulders of the Navy.The army will never be strong enough to take on the hosts that Bonaparte can summon.To be sure, we can pour money into the coffers of our allies on the continent, but it is no secret that such subsidies demean them as much as they impoverish us. So what are we to do, Sir Arthur? That is the question. How can we defeat France?’

  Arthur considered the question for a moment, bringing into focus the ideas and plans he had been pondering ever since his return from India. He cleared his throat and Pitt looked at him expectantly.

  ‘You are right, sir. We cannot defeat Bonaparte if we continue our current strategies. France’s colonies are a mere detail to him, and even if we capture them or disrupt their trade, he will still be master of the continent. If he is to be laid low, then we must defeat him on land, and ultimately on French soil.This is a war we shall have to carry to the very heart of Paris. At some point Britain must assemble an army powerful enough to confront Bonaparte himself. That will not be possible for some years. The men who defeat France will have to be trained well, and fully equipped and provisioned.They must gain plenty of campaign experience and be convinced that they are more than a match for any man in the French army.’ Arthur paused a moment.‘And they will need to be led by the best officers that can be found. They will need a commander who stands beside them whatever the danger, one who is flexible in his methods, and resolutely fixed on his goal.’

  ‘And would you be such a man?’ Pitt asked with an amused expression.

  ‘I would. But there are others who would serve as well.’

  ‘And many who would not.’

  Arthur did not respond to the comment, and continued with his train of thought. ‘Then there is the question of where such an army might gain the experience it requires to defeat Bonaparte. Too often Britain has hurled her forces piecemeal on to the continent to support our allies, with little tangible benefit to our war aims. Sir, we need to concentrate our forces in an area on the periphery of Europe where the men can be forged into a fine weapon.’

  ‘Where do you have in mind, Sir Arthur?’

  ‘The Iberian Peninsula.’

  ‘Spain?’

  ‘Portugal, to begin with.That would serve as a fine base of operations for taking the war to Spain, and ultimately France.’

  ‘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 m
ust 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.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘You were not the first, nor the last, to be rebuffed on those grounds.’

  ‘Not the last?’ Arthur felt his heart quicken with anxiety. ‘What do you mean?’

  Mrs Sparrow folded her hands in her lap. ‘Arthur, you must understand that ten years is a long time.’

  ‘I think I know that,’ Arthur responded with bitter feeling.

  ‘Of course. But while you were busily occupied with your duties in India, Kitty was sitting at home. Losing you broke her heart, I think. She did not go to the soirées at Dublin Castle. In fact she rarely ventured out to any social event for some years. At length, however, she felt that you might not return from India, and even if you did you were sure to have transferred your feelings to someone else. So she re-joined the world.’ Mrs Sparrow noticed his pained expression and leaned forward to pat his hand reassuringly. ‘Please, Arthur, don’t think that she had forgotten you. After all, the odd letter did pass between you from time to time. Kitty just felt that she had to continue with her life.That’s when she met young Galbraith Lowry Cole.’

  She paused to let the implication of her words sink in. Arthur swallowed and nodded. ‘Please continue.’

  ‘Galbraith was a handsome young man. And very earnest, much like you in many respects. He fell for Kitty and courted her as only a young man desperately in love can, bombarding her with notes and letters and gifts until he wore Kitty down and she began to form an attachment to him. I could see that he was not suitable for her, but she just said that you would never be coming back for her and she must make do. By and by I think her affections did begin to turn towards him, once she had convinced herself that she could not have you.’

  Arthur closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in steadily. Even though he had known that there was every chance that Kitty would meet another lover, somewhere deep in his heart he had hoped, fervently, that she would believe theirs to be as real and enduring a love as two people could ever know. Now he cursed himself for a fool. He should have written to her more often. He should have told her of the depth of his feelings for her, of his dreams for their future together.The sense of loss cut him to the soul and waves of bitter self-reproach coursed through his heart.With great difficulty, he repressed his despair. Opening his eyes, he stared bleakly at Mrs Sparrow.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Galbraith proposed to her.’

  ‘Proposed?’ Arthur repeated softly through clenched teeth. ‘When was this?’

  ‘Nearly three years ago. It came as no surprise to anyone observing the two of them. Just as the consequence came as no surprise.’

  ‘Why? What do you mean?’

  ‘Her brother refused to give his permission. One thing you can say for Tom Pakenham, he is consistent. Galbraith, like you, was a junior officer with no fortune of his own. Once again, Kitty’s heart was broken. Honestly, Arthur, you should have seen the poor, dear thing. She has been wasting away ever since.Thin as a stick.’ Mrs Sparrow shook her head sadly before co
ntinuing. ‘But all is not lost, as far as you two are concerned.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I said that Tom Pakenham was consistent, did I not?’ Mrs Sparrow smiled faintly. ‘I seem to recall Kitty once telling me of a letter you wrote. Not long before you left for India. In it you said that if you came back, having won your spurs and some wealth, your offer of marriage to her would still stand. Is that true?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Well, now it seems that you are Major-General Sir Arthur Wellesley, returned from India with a handsome fortune. In which case, what reason could Tom Pakenham possibly have for refusing you a second time? If your offer still stands, that is.’

  Arthur stared at her, for the first time feeling his pulse quicken with hope, and excitement. ‘Do you really think I would be accepted?’

  ‘I am sure of it. I know Kitty’s mind well enough. I know that you have but to write to her and tell her of your enduring feeling for her and she is yours.’