by Steven Neil
Your loyal friend
Tom
***
Château de Beauregard
La Celle-Saint-Cloud
Dear Tom
I’m excited about your news. I may even be with you before you receive this letter. Much to relate and I’m feeling optimistic about the future.
Yours ever
Martin
***
At the Élysée Palace, Jean Mocquard is called into Emperor Napoleon’s office. Each elevation of Emperor Napoleon III, real or imagined, brings with it the need for a larger office with more ornate fittings. The new office is resplendent with gilt trimmings on all the surfaces, fine Belgian wall tapestries and grand Italian oil paintings. On this day, the sun bursts through the long windows and scatters shards of light into every angle of the room. A new portrait of Louis Napoleon hangs behind him, replacing the earlier portrait of his illustrious forbear Napoleon I. The whole ensemble is designed to project power and virility, but the attempt at aggrandisement, surely the intention, fails. If anything, the figure of Louis Napoleon is diminished. His uniform hangs limply about him, the epaulettes droop and slide forward from his shoulders and he seems even shorter than when Mocquard last saw him, only a few weeks ago. As Mocquard enters and looks across the wide expanse to Louis’s desk, his impression is of a small, sickly child, lost in a giant’s lair.
Mocquard has no expectation that the call is particularly of note, but he senses that there are other voices in Louis’s ears these days. He still has influence, but he is consulted less often; the Empress is a contrary force and there are those in Louis’ circle with different motives to him. Unusually, he has not heard the latest rumours and he is unprepared.
‘The new chief of police says that Harriet is a spy,’ says Louis. ‘He believes she is in the pay of the British Government, that this was the original source of her wealth. He plans to have her arrested.’
‘Could I suggest we don’t act too hastily. Perhaps I could look into the evidence myself and see if there is any substance to his suspicions?’
‘Very well. I would hate to judge Miss Howard unfairly, but it does rather explain some things I was uneasy about.’
‘I think Monsieur Toulon wishes to make a name for himself.’
‘You don’t think there is any truth in it?’
‘I think I would know about it.’
‘What do you advise?’
‘I think he should concentrate on your security arrangements. There are still those who wish you ill. You and the Empress cannot risk anything less than his full attention.’
‘You have a point, I suppose.’
‘Even if it was true, which I am sure it is not, it would be hard to say that we had come to any harm by it. Imagine if the British Government had funded our campaign. That would be a cause for amusement rather than retribution, I think.’
‘You are right, of course, as ever. Nevertheless, I would be grateful if you would review the case with Toulon for me.’
‘Of course, leave it with me.’
Mocquard wastes no time in dealing with his task. It is an important reminder that nothing can be taken for granted. Harriet continues to live in danger, despite the fair wind blowing at her back recently. She cannot entirely shake off history.
***
It is a bright, cloudless morning on the gallops above Wroughton and two men on grey hacks survey the scene in front of them. In the far distance, three horses and riders appear through a white, painted gate and begin to canter towards them. As the horses pass a stone marker, they switch to a gallop and quicken their pace.
‘Don’t say anything, just watch,’ says Tom. ‘He is the chestnut horse with the white star on his forehead. Freddie Adams rides him. The other two are my best sprinters. They are going to work upsides in front and the chestnut horse in behind. Freddie will see if he can get to them going up the hill in the final furlong. We will know more then.’
As the horses come by the watchers, the trailing horse latches on to the pacemakers and, in a matter of strides, powers three lengths clear. Martin says he has never seen anything like it. Tom smiles.
Back at the yard, Martin can barely contain his excitement.
‘Right, we know we have the horse. I’m a novice in race planning. How do we pick the race? And how do we get the odds? And how do we get the money on?’
‘Patience,’ says Tom. ‘I’ll give him a quiet run somewhere early in the year. Freddie will ride him. He’ll do what he’s told. In any case, the distance will be too short and I’ll leave him short of work. He won’t win. Maybe fifth or sixth. Enough for us to know he can translate his ability from the gallops to the track, but not enough to attract attention. Then we’ll keep him ticking over, getting him in peak condition. When the longer races come into the calendar in September, we’ll find a seven-furlong race with some fancied horses that have already won. We’ll be one of the outsiders. I’ll get one of the top men to ride. Someone who can be trusted. We’ll place the commissions late, so there can be no chance for the bookmakers to know what is going on. We’ll try for some match bets with the owners of the favourites in the race.’
‘It sounds easy, but what if something goes wrong?’
‘It won’t. This is the best horse I’ve ever trained. He could even be a Derby horse, but that is for another day.’
‘By the way, what is he called?’
‘Ely. Like the cathedral.’
Martin goes on to talk about his mother. He and Harriet are on better terms. Jem is discussed openly between them. She calls Jem “my dear friend”, but Martin knows he is more than that.
***
In the week that follows, Tom invites Jem to Wroughton and arranges a repeat performance up on the gallops. Jem is impressed. Anyone would be. While he takes it in, Tom moves the conversation in another direction.
‘It is none of my business, but what are your intentions regarding Harriet?’ he says.
‘There is something afoot here. This is not a casual enquiry, is it?’
‘We have known each other a long time. We shouldn’t need to dance around the subject. This horse will win, probably at Doncaster, later in the year. There is a great deal of money to be made. I want you to be a part of it. I would want you in anyway, as a friend, but there is a motive.’
‘Go on.’
‘Harriet thinks you still love her. Is it true?’
‘Are you my keeper now?’
‘No games, Jem. Just tell me.’
‘It is true, but …’
‘But nothing, Jem. Don’t be a fool. You think she is too good for you?’
‘I know she is.’
‘Well, we are both agreed on that much, at least.’
‘Where is this leading?’
‘She thinks you have some idea, that because she is wealthy and you are not, your pride does not allow you to go to her. She is free and she wants you with her. Is that hard to understand?’
‘It is not hard to understand, but it is complicated.’
‘No. It is simple. You are the only complication.’
‘I have been a fool. You are right. I married twice, but I managed to make the same mistake twice. I ended up being married to the boss’s daughter. It never works. I know the woman I love has been in front of me all the time, but we always managed to argue. It has been my loss.’
‘Listen to me, Jem. When we win at Doncaster, we will all be rich. What stands in your way, then?’
‘Nothing, I suppose.’
‘What a romantic you are. I know things have not gone well for you with women. And I know there have been problems with money, but it doesn’t have to be like that. I was always the one in debt. You were the one who baled me out, time and again. Now it is my turn to help you. Think of it as payin
g you back for all those times before.’
Tom tells Jem the plan, just as he outlined it to Martin. Jem lights a cigar and takes a long pull on it.
‘Alright, I’m in,’ he says. ‘Thank you. I am fortunate to have a friend like you. By the way, I’m sorry to be so secretive. Things have moved on, even since you heard from Harriet last. Harriet and I are on good terms again. We are seeing each other. We are taking it slowly.’
***
All is calm at the Château de Beauregard. Harriet and Mellie are settled into a routine of elegant domesticity. However, it is a long time since they ventured into Paris and, Harriet’s trysts with Jem apart, they both feel a certain lack of excitement in their comfortable existence. Lavinia Lampard brings tidings that spark them into life, although it is news of a death that prompts the change. Their old accomplice at Carisbrooke School flits into their consciousness only occasionally. They know most of the story already, but not how it ends. After leaving school on the Isle of Wight, Lavinia and Harriet enjoyed London society and Lavinia formed a close friendship with Tom Olliver. Her father, however, was unimpressed with her London friends and sent her to Dublin in search of a husband. She soon found a wealthy Irish landowner, some twenty years her senior, who took her off to his country estate in Waterford. In Lavinia’s eyes, the lack of London entertainment was more than compensated by her own stable of hunters and racehorses and a seemingly unlimited budget for clothes and house parties. Raymond Fitzgerald may not have been everyone’s idea of a love match, but he suited Lavinia well enough and their long marriage lasted where others failed. And when Raymond was carried into the Manor House on a makeshift stretcher one afternoon, having suffered a crashing fall at a black ditch, while out with Lord Waterford’s hounds near Tramore, she was genuinely moved to sorrow. She nursed him for three days and nights, but the injuries proved fatal and by the time the priest arrived Lavinia, who thought a good deal during her time at the bedside, already knew how she would spend her enforced widowhood.
Leaving matters with her lawyer and her estate manager, she travels first to London, then to Paris, where she installs herself at the Hotel Windsor, overlooking the Jardins des Tuileries, and sends word to Harriet and Mellie that she would be delighted if they could meet again to talk over old times and tour the sights.
At about the same time, Harriet receives news that Princess Mathilde is also back in Paris. Relations with her lover, Count Alfred van Nieuwerkerke, ebb and flow and, from what Mathilde says, things are at a very low ebb.
***
And so it is that at noon, on Friday 5th June 1863, Harriet Howard, Melliora Findon, Lavinia Lampard and Princess Mathilde present themselves at Vefour restaurant on the rue de Beaujolais, beside the Palais Royal in Paris, and order a jeroboam of champagne. They are all attractive women, around their fortieth year, but there the similarity ends. Mathilde wears the most extraordinary purple and white striped, half-domed, crinoline dress, with a French lace shawl. It is an awkward construction and it takes the assistance of two waiters to arrange her at the table. Beside her, Lavinia’s black mourning dress in the style of Queen Victoria and Mellie’s beige, tunic dress merge quietly into the plum-velvet banquette. Harriet’s fuchsia-pink, crinoline dress, in other circumstances strikingly bright, looks a model of restraint beside Mathilde. Suffice to say that the four women make an impression. Even Vefour, all gilded mirrors, chandeliers, inlaid carvings, gold ceilings and painted neo-classical panels seems muted in comparison. The afternoon goes downhill rather swiftly and four hours and two more jeroboams later, the ladies, now the only diners – if that is the right word – left in the restaurant, are in a philosophical mood.
The conversation moves through various subjects, but the condition of the male of the human species is the one to which they return. Mathilde, who betrays a certain disdain for the men in her life, of which there have been many, is moved to announce that “men can never be trusted”.’
‘I think that may be too sweeping,’ says Lavinia. ‘My dear husband was always as good as his word. He possessed many positive qualities.’
‘I am happy to hear it. What would you say was his best quality?’
‘He was a very kind man. I think that is a characteristic often overlooked.’
‘Indeed, but what about passion? Surely a relationship cannot survive on kindness.’
‘I think it survives very well. Passion is fleeting and capricious. I would never trust passion if that was all there was between a man and a woman.’
‘Perhaps that is where I am going wrong. What about you, Harriet? Kindness or passion? What would you have?’
‘I aspire to both.’
‘Nicely said. And you, Mellie? You are quiet on the matter.’
‘I speak little because I know so little. Men are not my specialist subject. I am happy to listen and learn.’
Melliora’s reply slows Mathilde for a while. She is not sure what to make of it. However, she is soon back on track.
‘Harriet, let us not skirt around the subject any longer. Is it true you will be reconciled with Jem Mason at last?’
Lavinia and Mellie sit forward and rest their chins on their forearms as if choreographed by an unseen director, their eyes fixed on Harriet.
‘And what does Jem Mason have to commend him, after all these years?’ adds Mathilde.
‘He was the first man I cared about and that emotion never left me. He was always his own man. I admired his independence. He put into words what I felt, about making my own way in life, when I was a young girl. That stayed with me.’
‘When will the great romance be reinstated?’
‘There are some small obstacles to be overcome. I will tell you all about it when I can. I think it really will be our last chance, but we are determined not to fail this time.’
‘How marvellous. I can hardly wait.’
***
Nearby, Jean Mocquard and Martin sit at a café on the rue de la Paix. Mocquard knows about the plot for Ely.
‘I think about what could still go wrong,’ says Martin.
‘But Monsieur Olliver remains very confident, does he not?’
‘I am sure of Tom. That is not my concern. I worry that Louis may come back into Harriet’s life somehow and ruin everything.’
‘I am pleased to say there are no difficulties there. I would not have been able to say that a few months ago, but an awkward situation has been resolved.’
‘You didn’t mention it.’
‘I didn’t want to worry you without reason.’
He relates the story about Toulon and his supposed evidence.
‘I was able to intervene to some effect. My influence is not entirely faded.’ He smiles. ‘I also took the precaution of briefing Princess Mathilde,’ he adds. ‘She applied her own special means of persuasion to Monsieur Toulon. He saw the wisdom of dropping his interest in Harriet.’
‘Can we be sure?’
‘Louis will not trouble her. He has a new fascination: her name is Marguerite Bellanger. She is an actress, but that will not surprise you. He and Eugenie are hardly on speaking terms. I can only think it will end badly, but he heeds my advice only infrequently these days. You need not concern yourself with him now. Nor should Harriet. The chapter on that part of her life is closed. She must only look forward.’
‘Thank you.’
‘By the way, we should probably keep this between us and Mathilde.’
Thirty-One
Landing the Odds
Wroughton and Doncaster, England
Paris and La Celle-Saint-Cloud, France
1863
Martin and Tom meet again at Wroughton. Tom is all smiles again. The horses are fit and healthy and seem to be running well. Even at this early stage in the season, Tom sits at the top of the trainers’ table. Martin has news of Harriet and Nathaniel St
rode.
‘She told me there are only two people in the world that she trusts implicitly. One is Nathaniel Strode and the other is you.’
‘That is an onerous responsibility. I hope I will not let her down.’
‘Strode is to help me with my financial affairs. He seems a clever man. He is rather unenthusiastic about putting stake money up for our scheme, but Mama has insisted upon it. He says it is the only time she has ever gone against his recommendation.’
‘We are playing for high stakes. It is not just the craic and giving the bookmakers a bloody nose. If we pull this off, Jem will be financially secure and on equal terms again with Harriet. It is all that stands between them.’
‘No doubt they will find other barriers.’
‘I think they are finding their way, from what I understand. Maybe they don’t need our help, but it is too good a plan not to see it through and it will do no harm. The rest is up to them.’
‘I won’t ask. I will just thank you for your help.’
‘Thank me when we win.’
At the mid-year, Tom finds a nice quiet race for Ely, first time up and all goes to plan. The horse finishes fifth.
***
In July, news comes that Lord Normanby is dead. It is a sign that the old order is changing. Harriet’s perception of Normanby troubles her. Of course, he and Lady Normanby were always very kind to her, but there are nagging doubts now about his role in the wider politics. Could he have done more to protect her from Sly? Could he have stopped things altogether? She doesn’t dwell on it, though. It is all in the past and it is too late now.
***
In August, Martin’s twenty-first birthday begins quietly, with Harriet and Aunt Mellie at Beauregard, but a carriage arrives mid-afternoon and by five o’clock Martin walks into Chez Brébant on the boulevard Poissonnière in Paris.