by Steven Neil
Francis
Twenty-Six
The New Politics
Towcester and Chislehurst, England
Chantilly, France
1859
Henry Fitzroy, the fifth Duke of Grafton, is at home at Wakefield Lodge, his hunting estate near Towcester, some forty miles north of London. His arthritis troubles him and he is unable to travel. Like his father before him, he has a tidy mind and he has a list of issues and questions he wants resolved. His physician assures him he is generally in good health, but he knows better. He asks Lord Normanby, now retired from diplomatic service, and Sir George Lewis MP if they will call on him. The old families still have some clout in England. Normanby travels up from London and Sir George breaks his journey from his country seat at Radnor, on his way back to town.
The two men arrive at about the same time, turning in off Watling Street at the turnpike, and several footmen and stable hands are waiting to take over the horses and carriages.
‘Any idea what this is all about?’ says Normanby. Sir George shrugs.
The enthusiastic under-butler greets them and they make their way along the north face of the house. The visitors ask polite questions about the architecture and they learn rather more about Venetian windows, flattened arches and semi-elliptical lunettes than is strictly necessary. Nevertheless, it cannot be denied that the overall appearance and style of the place is attractive.
Fitzroy meets them in the main hall. It is a room designed to impress: from the elegant, balustraded, wooden gallery and the beamed, ornamental, plaster ceiling to the magnificent stone chimneypiece, adorned with carved trophies of the hunt: a fox’s head on the left and a badger’s head on the right, undercut with bows and spears. A log fire roars in the grate and a rather splendid oil painting of a mare and foal, by Mr Herring senior, sits above. Candles are alight all around the room and the soft glow bounces off the mirrors and the silverware, set for tea. It has all the appearance of a cosy fireside chat, but that is not at all what the Duke has in mind. He is in no mood for small talk. An apparently chance meeting with Tom Olliver at the Cesarewitch meeting at Newmarket last year has alerted him to the situation Harriet Howard finds herself in. He wants action.
‘Enough is enough,’ he says. ‘She has endured a great deal. I feel an enormous guilt that we did not do more when we had the chance.’
‘It was a matter of national security. We had to do the right thing for the country,’ says Normanby.
‘I am weary of this. I am an old man now. I made a promise on my father’s memory. I will not go to the grave having failed. Let us do the right thing for Miss Howard. Call off the hounds once and for all. I insist upon it.’
‘I am sure you realise that these things take time…’ says Sir George.
‘I don’t have time. And I will not be patronised. Between you two, you have the means to resolve this. Please get it done. Let me know when you have. I won’t hear another word. Do I make myself clear?’
When they are gone, he sends them each a letter, confirming the agreements between them. A month passes without any sign of action, so he copies the letters to Lord Palmerston, now prime minister again following the collapse of Lord Derby’s minority government. Henry Fitzroy and Palmerston are old adversaries in the hunting field. The Duke makes it clear that he holds the prime minister personally responsible for ensuring that the agreements are implemented. He mentions that he is still keeping the matter of Palmerston’s liaison, with the unnamed governess, strictly between themselves. He hopes to keep it that way, he says.
***
South of London, Nathaniel Strode has a property at Camden Place, near Chislehurst in Kent, acquired at the beginning of the year. Harriet is Strode’s guest. He is insistent that she come there, despite her protestations. Château de Beauregard is shuttered up and the doors boarded. She has nowhere else to go and no access to any funds. Strode has other properties and his family does not live here. He assures her that she can stay as long as is necessary. He hopes that he will have better news soon.
Strode tells her, one day in June, that Lord Palmerston himself is calling on them and that he wishes to speak to her. Obviously, Palmerston has decided that he doesn’t want anything left to chance. On the appointed day, Harriet spends the morning in Strode’s well-stocked library.
Strode finds it difficult to reconcile the appearance up close of the prime minister with his great reputation as a hard rider to hounds and serial ladies’ man. Now in his mid-seventies and a man who would long ago have succumbed to grey hair, he sports an auburn pate and whistles through ill-fitting teeth as he speaks. His purple cravat is adorned with the remains of his breakfast. Strode shows him into the drawing room and leaves him with Harriet. Palmerston waits for her to say something, but she stays silent. Eventually, he clears his throat.
‘I am pleased to have this opportunity to set the record straight,’ he says.
Harriet thinks he looks anything but pleased and she has no intention of making things any easier for him. She is prepared.
‘And what record would that be?’ she says.
‘I see you intend to punish me for what has gone before. I understand and I sympathise. I am here to apologise and to let you know the steps I am taking to ensure this sort of thing does not happen again. The government is keen to learn from the mistakes that have been made. I propose a new politics in which we are all directly accountable to the electorate. There will be no more cloak and dagger. I can assure you of that.’
‘How exactly do you propose to ensure this? Your own record lacks some credibility, wouldn’t you say?’
‘As I say, we have learned our lessons. I have instructed the new home secretary, Sir George Lewis, that we must have absolute clarity on the role of State Services…’
‘Some might say you are a very slow learner. By my reckoning, since 1836 you have been foreign secretary for a total of ten years, home secretary for two years and prime minister for three years. You have spent your career at the very highest levels of government and yet you have only now discovered the truth of what has been going on. Either you have been extremely unobservant, which I know you are not, or you have been complicit in allowing your secret service – let us not shirk from the truth with euphemistic titles – to get away, quite literally, with murder.’
‘I was warned that you are inclined to believe all the conspiracy theories. I cannot stop you. I am not here to apologise for things we did not do. On the other hand, I don’t pretend that mistakes were not made. Indeed, they were. You have been poorly treated. I am fully persuaded of that by the account Lord Normanby has provided.’
‘Thank you, but, apart from platitudes and promises, what else are you here to say?’
‘I offer a full apology for our role in any unpleasantness. I offer a guarantee that we are taking steps to avoid this sort of thing happening in future. There will be a financial settlement, of course, subject only to your acceptance that all of this will remain confidential.’
‘What a way with words you have, sir: “unpleasantness”, “this sort of thing”, “settlement”. How prettily they trip off the tongue. Let us call it what it is, sir. You are offering me a bonus payment for whoring for the government, topped up with a bribe to shut me up.’
‘I don’t blame you for having your day. Berate me if you must. Beat me if you wish. Here.’
Palmerston pulls the coat aside from his waistcoat and makes a rather theatrical show of prostrating himself before her. It stops her in her tracks.
‘I really am sorry,’ he continues. ‘I comfort myself with the fact that Europe is a safer place with Napoleon III as our ally. This could not have been achieved without you. But that doesn’t make what we did right. Mr Strode will take care of things. I bid you good day.’
‘There is one more thing.’
‘If I can do something
else, I will.’
‘I would like an audience with Queen Victoria.’
‘Really, Miss Howard, you go too far.’
She turns on her heels and, with a swish of her skirts, exits the room. Palmerston slumps back in his chair and blows out his cheeks.
***
Harriet is rather pleased with her day’s work. When she relates the conversation to Strode, he can barely contain himself. She hardly remembers him even smiling before – perhaps an occasional smirk – but here she has him holding his sides, the tears streaming down his face. She has not forgotten her acting skills.
‘Bravo,’ says Strode. ‘If Mr Boucicault was here, he would cast you on the spot.’
‘I am not familiar with him.’
‘You have been too long in France. I shall take you to see London Assurance in Covent Garden by way of a celebration. There is a character called Lady Gay Spanker. You will see what I mean.’
‘I am intrigued.’
The conversation marks a change in her relationship with Strode. He is always strictly businesslike; always very serious. He never mentions anything personal, certainly not his private life. Whatever he has in mind, it is clear she has much to thank him for. She says as much.
‘You are an important client. I will always do my best for you,’ he says. ‘But it is Tom Olliver you really must thank.’
She looks puzzled for a moment, but slowly the pieces fit into place.
***
Back in France, Jean Mocquard finds Martin a job at a racing yard in Chantilly. Martin rides out his three lots every morning and mucks out until lunchtime. He has his first ride in an amateur race and gets up in the last stride to win by a head. His formal education is further interrupted, but he is an avid reader and Mocquard provides him with a steady supply of English and French novels. Martin devours Dickens, Thackeray, Balzac and Dumas, but it is Robert Smith-Surtees’s tales of hunting that really capture his imagination.
‘Perhaps I shall be an “untsman”,’ he says, in a letter to Mocquard.
‘I think you can be whatever you wish,’ comes the reply. ‘Let me know how I can help.’
***
Politics in France goes from bad to worse, at least from a British perspective. Lord Palmerston seems intent on replacing his reputation as a warmonger with that of Europe’s peacemaker and he makes a great show of disapproval of Louis Napoleon’s foreign ambitions. How times change. In March, Sardinia announces itself at war with Austria and by June Louis Napoleon supports Sardinia to defeat Emperor Franz Joseph at Solferino.
Lord Cowley tells Palmerston what is becoming a familiar story.
‘I think the Emperor has really lost any sense of perspective. He has taken command of the troops himself. He is determined to have his day. He is happy to leave Empress Eugenie in charge of affairs at home. He is taking risks.’
***
Despite British reservations, by November the Treaty of Zurich confirms the Treaty of Villafranca and brings the Austro-Sardinian War to a close.
‘He is making enemies wherever he goes,’ says Cowley. ‘He has no strategy. The Germans are against him and the Sardinians don’t trust him. But he will take Savoy and Nice before he has finished.’
‘Not completely without a strategy then, I suppose,’ says Palmerston.
***
Later in the year, buoyed by her success with Palmerston and the news from Strode that her bank accounts are freed up, Harriet turns her mind to Jem again. Strode finds himself operating well outside his brief as Harriet’s financial advisor. Naturally enough, they have become closer over the years, despite Strode’s cool exterior, and he is asked for advice on all manner of things. It is Strode himself, though, who volunteers to speak to Jem Mason and see if the deadlock between Harriet and Jem can be broken. Strode judges that his calm detachment and common sense might have some currency with Jem. He doesn’t know Jem well, but he feels he shares some of Jem’s personality: a man of few words and diligent in his work. Jem is reluctant, but Harriet perseveres and eventually, with Strode’s help as intermediary, he arrives at Camden Place. This time, she will be conciliatory, she tells herself. She will not argue and she will not lose her temper. Tom tells her, in a letter, that Jem’s separation from his wife has come at a cost.
When they eventually sit down for tea in the drawing room, they are awkward together, as if everything that has gone between them never happened. The conversation is stilted. He asks about her parents. They talk about Tom and his latest training successes. There is a long silence. She senses he is about to leave. She feels a tightness in her chest and cannot contain her thoughts.
‘Are you determined that we should never be reconciled?’
He looks down. He adjusts a buckle on his boots.
‘We are both married to someone else.’
‘That is detail. It can be overcome.’
‘It is not so easily achieved as you seem to think.’
Another long silence ensues. They both look as if they may speak at any moment, but they hesitate. Jem pinches his nose between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. He looks down again and shakes his head slowly.
‘What is stopping us?’ she says.
‘I won’t do it now. It must be on equal terms. I will not be beholden. It would be the same if the shoe was on the other foot.’
‘I am not familiar with your financial arrangements. You are implying that my wealth exceeds yours, I think. Why is that important?’
‘It was important to you once.’
‘By heaven, what an irritating man you can be. If I have too much, I’ll give it away. If you need more, then I’m sure you and Tom Olliver can devise a way to find it. Please don’t put excuses in the way.’
‘I must think about it.’
‘Please at least do that. Life is short. We have wasted too much time apart as it is.’
The meeting ends without resolution. She hopes something can be rescued in their relationship, but the more she thinks about it the more she convinces herself that this may really have been her last chance. She berates herself for her lack of patience. Despite what she promised herself, she could not hold her tongue. She thinks she will probably never see Jem again.
By contrast, Jem feels the meeting a positive one. After all, has he not said he will think about things? What more could he say?
Twenty-Seven
A Royal Appointment
London and Chislehurst, England
Paris and La Celle-Saint-Cloud, France
1860
At Buckingham Palace, Harriet waits for her appointment with Her Majesty The Queen. A court official looks her up and down and sniffs.
‘You will be required to curtsey to the floor and remain there for ten seconds or until Her Majesty indicates you may rise. Her Majesty may be addressed on introduction as Your Majesty and then as Ma’am, rhymes with jam. On no account use any other form of address. You may not ask a direct question. You may respond to a topic Her Majesty raises and you may respond directly to a question she poses. You must not attempt to change the topic of conversation. This is for Her Majesty to decide. Her Majesty will indicate when the conversation is at an end. You must not extend the conversation beyond this point. You must not turn your back on Her Majesty, but wait until she has turned away. Are there any questions?’
‘No, thank you.’
‘Then please wait. You will be called forward in due course.’
Harriet is eventually ushered into a library. It is an intimate room. There are family photographs on an ornate mahogany desk, official papers neatly piled on a side table and a log fire blazing in a polished, register grate. When Queen Victoria appears, she strikes Harriet as younger than she expected. She is slim, almost petite. There is a vivacity and alertness about her that does not come through in her phot
ographs.
Of course, no such meeting takes place officially. It does not appear in any diary and no one is party to the discussion. It would be inappropriate to guess at the ground that was covered.
After the meeting, travelling back to Camden Place again, Harriet reflects. Of course, she did not expect an audience. She wanted to make Palmerston uncomfortable and she certainly achieved that much. Queen Victoria proves a willing ally in discomfiting Palmerston. Compared to her other prime ministers, she finds Palmerston a tiresome old man. He has none of Melbourne’s style and sagacity or Peel’s courage and common sense. The Queen impresses Harriet with her keen intellect and adept management of her politicians, but underneath it all Harriet’s lasting impression is of a modest, family-minded woman, who married the love of her life and is happy. Harriet wonders if it is too late for her.
***
The Emperor and Jean Mocquard meet at the Élysée Palace. Louis Napoleon wears the uniform of general, as has become his custom. The tunic rather pulls at the seams and the buttons strain across his stomach. His face is pale and deep lines stretch out from the corners of his eyes. He chews at his nails, biting them down to the quick.
‘Will Harriet not see me?’ he says.
‘She will not.’
‘And is this her final word?’
‘Yes.’
‘I think she may have been more grateful.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘You doubt it?’
‘It is not for me to say.’
‘I am asking you to say what is on your mind.’
‘I am your loyal servant. I do your bidding. Do you press me?’
‘I do.’
‘Miss Howard has supported you from the very beginning. From what I gather, she has asked for nothing in return. I believe it is you who should be grateful. Indeed, all France should be grateful to Miss Howard. That is my honest opinion. I am sorry if I speak out of turn.’
Louis twirls at the ends of his waxed moustache and strokes at his beard. He considers for a moment.