The Merest Loss

by Steven Neil

  ‘Oh dear. We have a register of escorts?’

  ‘I’m afraid so, yes.’

  Sir James gazes out of the window, apparently lost in thought. The Duke fixes his gaze on Lord Normanby.

  ‘Well, the thing is, the old boy let it be known in his papers that he wanted her “looked after”. What is the form?’

  ‘Are you saying she is named in his will?’ says Normanby.

  ‘No, nothing of that sort. It came to light in his hunting diaries. I just feel rather honour bound to ask what can be done. Do you see?’

  ‘I have met her. By God, she is something. Your father was a good judge.’

  ‘Yes, I have often heard it said. He had a sound eye for the three aitches: hounds, horses and harlots.’

  ‘Shame you couldn’t have let us know sooner. We might have been able to call off the chase.’

  ‘Damn it, Henry, don’t rub it in. I feel guilty enough as it is.’

  ‘Sorry, Your Grace. I spoke out of turn.’

  Sir James strokes his chin and looks from the window towards the ornate, carved ceiling. He is looking for inspiration, but none comes.

  ‘Leave it with me,’ he says. ‘We shall just have to make the best of a bad job, I think.’

  Twelve

  Executing the Plan

  London, England

  1846

  In Nicholas Sly’s office in Whitehall Place, arrangements are being made. Today, Sly is smiling, cheerful almost, although it is as well not to relax in his company.

  ‘Is everything in order, Major?’ says Sly.

  ‘I believe so, sir,’ says Mountjoy-Martin.

  ‘You believe so, is it? Major Martin, you are a military officer. I need more precision from you. Yes or no will suffice.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Very well. You will escort Miss Howard to Gore House at nine o’clock this evening. The Frenchman will be in attendance. You are required only to make the normal introductions and then to withdraw. Lady Blessington will take over from there.’

  ‘How can we be sure the plan will work, sir?’

  ‘Miss Howard will do what Miss Howard does. The Frenchman will do what Frenchmen do. I have no doubt of it.’

  ***

  Evening sunlight still filters through the windows at Gore House, striking the chandeliers and diffusing light into the corners of the rooms. Large arrangements of fragrant pink and white roses greet the guests as they enter through the marbled hallway and make their way into the ballroom. A string quartet plays one of Signor Donizetti’s latest offerings. Liveried footmen stand by, offering drinks and canapés.

  Prince Louis Napoleon arrives, accompanied by an entourage of four gentlemen, who are encased in a great deal of ribbon and other frippery. For his part, the Prince wears a blue evening coat, with gilt buttons and a velvet collar, and a white waistcoat in the “style Anglaise”. His only concession to decoration is the Garter, a blue ribbon crossing his waistcoat, a star on his left pocket and the belted band below the left knee.

  There is much head-turning and murmuring as he moves alongside Lady Blessington. He returns her greeting with a curt bow, a kiss on the hand and an audible clicking of his heels. She catches him firmly by the elbow and marches him towards the assembled throng, where various introductions are made and several repeat performances from the Prince ensue. He makes an imposing first impression at his first soiree back in England – of that, there can be no doubt. There are those in attendance, however, who feel that on closer inspection the impression does not quite carry through. Lady Willoughby thinks the Bonaparte nose a distraction and feels that his eyes are rather too close together. She wonders whether his somewhat mouse-brown hair is entirely his own. Moreover, and there is no avoiding this, when Louis Napoleon stands alongside Lord Normanby, the new British ambassador in France, he barely reaches his shoulder. Subsequent reports have it that Louis Napoleon speaks only in English, eschews any opportunity to speak French and, if anything, affects a vaguely German accent. Lady Normanby comments later, to Nicholas Sly, that she is not at all sure what to make of the man.

  ‘How long has he been in London, exactly?’ says Lady Cowley.

  ‘I understand from Malmesbury that he has been here just three weeks,’ says Normanby. ‘I am told he has taken rooms at King Street, near St James’s Square.’

  Just at the point when the evening achieves the desired level of dullness and Louis Napoleon is seen to check his half-hunter, Lady Blessington raises her fan to her face and nods to the footman standing on the right of the main staircase. Moments later, the string quartet ends their performance with a flourish and the polite applause that follows gives way to silence. Harriet Howard makes her way down the long upper gallery at the north side of the ballroom and then, very slowly, descends the stairs, the silk skirts of her vivid blue dress swishing as she moves. An ornate diamond pendant glitters at her neck. All the while, she keeps her gaze ahead of her. At her side, Major Mountjoy-Martin provides a suitably straight-backed aide. They reach Lady Blessington.

  ‘I am so pleased you could find time to attend our little party,’ she says.

  ‘It is our pleasure. I am so sorry we were delayed,’ says Harriet.

  ‘May I introduce our distinguished guest from France.’

  Prince Louis Napoleon dips a brief acknowledgement to Mountjoy-Martin and focuses his attention on Harriet.

  ‘Enchanted,’ says the Prince.

  He lingers over the introduction and seems reluctant to give up Harriet’s hand. Mountjoy-Martin gives a small cough, which breaks the attachment, leaving her free to respond with a long, low curtsey. Once she has reached her resting position, she looks up, fixes Louis Napoleon with her piercing eyes and smiles at him, her lips parting just slightly.

  ‘How lovely to meet you,’ she says.

  All the attention follows the newly attached couple, as the music strikes up again.

  ‘Who is that girl?’ says Lady Willoughby to one of the ladies-in-waiting.

  ‘I understand she has just arrived in London herself. She is a Howard. They say she has been educated in a convent. The Prince seems quite taken with her.’

  ‘Really? A convent? I think I may have seen her before.’

  It is not long after the dancing commences that Prince Louis manoeuvres Harriet onto the terrace, where they remain deep in conversation under the dimmed gas lamps.

  ***

  Mountjoy-Martin reports back to Whitehall Place. It is almost midnight. He thinks that Sly looks as if he has been sitting in the same position since he left him that morning. A single candle lights the room.

  ‘How went the evening?’ says Sly.

  ‘Exactly as you said it would, sir,’ says Mountjoy-Martin.

  ‘Excellent.’

  ‘Could I ask a question, sir?’

  ‘Of course. Out with it.’

  ‘Louis Napoleon, sir. If we are to support his cause, well… is he reliable?’

  ‘He is a Frenchman.’

  Nicholas Sly chuckles to himself as if he has just recalled the punch-line to a rather excellent joke.

  ‘Sir, you are playing with me. You know what I am asking. If Britain chooses to support the Bonapartist cause, how do we know they will co-operate with us?’

  ‘It is a fair question. In fact, Britain will offer nothing and will ask for nothing. Our politicians rarely agree about anything, but Palmerston and Aberdeen are agreed on one thing. We must not be seen intervening directly in French politics. However, we do have a clear cross-party policy and preference. We find that we cannot trust King Louis Philippe. He has no backbone. We need a strong alliance against Russia. On balance, the Bonapartists are more likely to deliver that than the current monarchy. It is a matter of judgement.’

  ‘Would it not be feasible to reac
h some arrangement with the Russians as an alternative?’

  ‘That has been considered. The French are unreliable, but they do occasionally do the right thing. The Russians can always be relied upon to do the wrong thing. That is the lesson of history.’

  ‘And Louis Napoleon?’

  ‘He is the natural heir to the Bonaparte legacy and France is bored again. If we can oil the wheels a little, then we shall. Unofficially, of course.’

  ‘And Miss Howard?’

  ‘Ah, Miss Howard, our secret weapon.’

  ‘I worry about her, sir. I know it is not my place… but I think we expect a lot from the young lady.’

  ‘Your concern is touching. Might it be that it is not just the Frenchman who is falling under Miss Howard’s spell?’

  ***

  At Gore House next morning, the sunlit orangery is alive with bougainvillaea and oleander. The plumbago is just starting to flower. It is a little Mediterranean oasis. It is enough to put everyone in a good mood, but this is not the only reason Lord Normanby feels pleased with himself. He greets Lady Blessington with a beaming smile. She, however, does not reciprocate.

  ‘Our Frenchman didn’t know what hit him. What a joy to watch,’ he says.

  ‘We must look after her. She seems tough, but she is fragile.’

  ‘We are fortunate we still have her.’

  ‘We are, but why do you say that?’

  ‘I thought you knew about the intervention.’

  ‘You will need to enlighten me. It seems I have been overlooked.’

  ‘The Duke of Grafton wanted us to pull her out of service.’

  ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘Last year, if my memory serves me. He came to see the home secretary. I was there. There was some story about the old Duke wanting her “looked after”, whatever that means.’

  ‘You mean we could have put a stop to this?’

  ‘Well, yes and no. Strictly speaking, we could have done, but Sly kicked up a hell of a fuss and Sir James was not really on top of his brief sufficiently to overrule him. I did what I could, of course, but, frankly, the direction was already set and having seen the magic at work last evening, well… who can say we chose the wrong track?’

  ‘Men are so weak sometimes. I fear Harriet is a victim of her own success. You should all be ashamed.’

  ‘I think you are overstating things somewhat, Margaret. The home secretary came up with a very sensible compromise, I think. Miss Howard stays as she is, but we make a much improved financial arrangement with her. Strode will deal with it.’

  ‘I suppose that may be some recompense for her loss of freedom.’

  ‘That old chestnut again, Margaret. Who among us is really free? We all have a role to play in life. You are always harping on about freedom, but you have not done too badly. Watch out our young beauty doesn’t eclipse you. Don’t underestimate her.’

  ‘I don’t, but we are asking a great deal from her.’

  ‘We ask because there is a great deal at stake. Europe’s politics are finely poised. France can be an enemy or a friend. I would rather the latter.’

  ***

  Harriet is asked to call on Lady Blessington at teatime. When she arrives at Gore House, however, it seems that she is not expected and she is asked to wait. When she does enter the drawing room, there is someone else there. He is tall, over six feet and rather exotically handsome. If anyone ever oozed attraction, it is he. The scent of eau de jasmine lingers in the air.

  ‘Allow me to introduce Count D’Orsay.’

  ‘Good afternoon, sir.’

  ‘We have met, I think?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I am sure I would have remembered.’

  ‘As would I.’

  D’Orsay is clearly in a hurry to leave and Harriet hears whispered farewells in the hallway before her hostess returns to her. Lady Blessington fans herself. It is no longer a warm day, but her cheeks seem unusually red and she looks as if she may have been crying.

  ‘Have you known each other long?’ says Harriet.

  ‘Yes, Alfred and I have enjoyed a long relationship. We fight all the time, of course. He is the most terrible young man with money. He knows where to find me, though. He quite made me forget you were coming this afternoon.’

  ‘But I am here now.’

  ‘Yes, yes… of course.’

  ‘And you wish me to bring you up to date with developments?’

  ‘Yes, yes… I’m sorry I am not myself today.’

  Harriet provides her report, as she knows she must, but her mind is racing. She is starting to tie the strands together.

  Thirteen

  Playing the Cards

  London, England

  1847

  Whitehall Place has few visitors today. A nearby clock strikes ten times and Harriet Howard is back in familiar territory. She has several engagements and is anxious to get the first appointment over with.

  ‘To business, Miss Howard,’ says Nicholas Sly. ‘You have done all that we ask so far. We are about to entrust you with a great deal of money and a great deal of responsibility. You will not let us down, because the consequences, for those close to you, would be unthinkable. Do you follow me?’

  ‘Please don’t threaten me.’

  ‘It is as well to have things clear, I always think. No room for doubt, as it were.’

  ‘I am clear.’

  ‘You will share a house with the Frenchman in Berkeley Square. I am sure Mountjoy-Martin has explained things. It will be very congenial. The financial arrangements will be taken care of by Mr Nathaniel Strode. We have arranged a meeting with him later today. He has already been working on your behalf. The Frenchman will believe the wherewithal comes from you. He is gaining the impression that you are a wealthy heiress and that you may be prepared to help him in his ambitions. We will do nothing that might dissuade him from that view. When the time comes, money will be made available. All you need to do is continue playing your part. Are there any questions?’

  ‘No.’

  ***

  Rockingham House is a comfortable family home in a desirable, new part of town and Harriet is sorry to leave. Martin is happy there and so, in many ways, is she. Still, she feels awkward about the last two years. They are an elaborate sham, of course, and although she feels apprehensive she also feels spurred on by the new circumstances, however uncertain the outcome.

  ‘I will miss your company, Francis,’ she says. ‘You have been a good friend. Now I must face the next part of the journey on my own. I am nervous.’

  ‘Don’t be. You are extremely capable. Everyone is impressed. You will have help. I will be close by. If I am ever needed, I will come.’

  ‘Thank you, Francis.’

  ‘You will always have my support. As will Martin. This is beyond my role. This is a personal pledge. You understand that, don’t you?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘I wanted to say that when this is over I would like to make our relationship more permanent. I think we could be very good together. Can I hope for that?’

  ‘Let’s not make plans. I cannot promise anything. I am resigned to my situation now. You have helped me see that. My parents’ living is secure and Martin is growing up in pleasant surroundings and with a good education. I am thankful for that. This is not the life I wanted, but it is a life I can accept. Perhaps one day my assignment will be complete and I can have my freedom back. If that day comes, we will talk about the future then.’

  ‘Very well.’

  ***

  Berkeley Square is something altogether different. Here are grand buildings. Here is history. Here is a small piece of English countryside, nestled beside the seething mass of London. Here is Number Nine Berkeley Square and here is Nathaniel Strode, a new entrant in Harri
et Howard’s world. At first glance, he looks like an accountant, she thinks. He carries a well-worn document case. Yet there is something else about him. His hair is slightly unkempt. His waistcoat is rather garish – a sort of dirty, salmon pink. She searches for the word. Raffish comes to mind.

  ‘I am so pleased to meet you. I have heard a lot about you,’ he says.

  ‘Some of it may even be true.’

  ‘I hope we will know each other better in time. I understand that you will have reservations about me. I recognise that my proximity to Nicholas Sly will not commend me. However, I can give my assurance that, while I will do my duty by Her Majesty’s Government, I will also do my best to look after your interests.’

  ‘That is thoughtful, sir, but what am I to you?’

  ‘I have heard that you cut through to the heart of the matter.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘I am sorry that I must remain ambivalent about some things at the moment. I can do nothing about the essential details of your situation. Some things cannot be undone and I understand that you have accepted your role and everything that it entails. Suffice it to say that there are friends who will look after you, as far as is possible. The road to the Élysée Palace is not straightforward, but that is the destination. It may not be achievable. Should you become surplus to requirements, or should the strategy change, my task is to ensure that you are not disadvantaged and that your future is guaranteed. I cannot ask you to trust me, as there is no basis to do so. Nevertheless, my actions will prove me worthy of your trust. Don’t judge me yet.’

  ‘You are also straight to the point, sir. I am grateful.’

  ‘I am at your service.’

  ‘Francis has spoken about you. He was very complimentary.’

  ‘Francis is a good man. He cares about you. Don’t doubt him.’

  ‘I don’t. But tell me, how will my future be guaranteed? I am intrigued.’

  ‘That I can say. I will explain as simply as I can. Louis Napoleon will need resources to support his campaign. You will provide the money. Her Majesty’s Government will provide the money to your account. Once the draft comes across, the government will see that budget as spent and the treasury will write it off. They will lose interest in how it is managed. Questions will only arise if it does not produce the desired effect. I think you will be motivated to succeed.’