‘No, I think they were wrong to execute their king. But it would be hard not to justify almost anything short of that.’
‘Including the abolition of the monarchy?’
Fenshaw shrugged. ‘Maybe, given how far their kings had moved away from the needs and desires of their subjects. The revolutionaries are simply shifting the balance of government back in favour of the people. That is why I do not think that they should be regarded as some elemental force of chaos and evil.’
Arthur shook his head in astonishment. ‘You can’t be serious, Fenshaw. Look at what they have been doing to their own countrymen. Sending them to the guillotine in their thousands. Waging war on their compatriots in the Vendée, in Normandy and in the south of the country. And what of the lands they have invaded? How is that proof of their good intentions to the common man?’
‘They are fighting to keep the revolution alive, Wesley. No monarchy in Europe dares to allow the French republic to succeed for fear of the precedent it would set. It is a beacon to oppressed people everywhere - that is why other powers are bent on destroying the revolution by waging war from without, and by spreading lies and insurrection from within. Faced with that, they do what they must to defend the revolution.’
‘So the end justifies the means?’ Arthur sniffed. ‘That’s been the excuse of tyrants through the ages. The means and end are indistinguishable and only fools and charlatans pretend that they aren’t.’
‘Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good.’
‘Oh, come now, Fenshaw! You can’t really believe that. The scum who have risen to the top of the heap in France aren’t killing their own people, and those of other nations, for the sake of an ideal. They are doing it to protect themselves alone, and to extend their tyranny to other nations. A tyrant is a tyrant no matter what noble cause he may profess to serve. Revolution only breeds chaos, and chaos can only be resolved by a cruel and ruthless tyrant. That is not a fate I want for my country and my people, should the French invade.’
Fenshaw smiled slightly. ‘Wesley, you shouldn’t believe everything that you read in Edmund Burke’s vile pamphlets.’
‘And you should not be fooled by the wretched scribblings of Thomas Paine,’ Arthur snapped back.
There was a dangerous tension hanging over the picnic blanket and Kitty grabbed a small pot from the basket and thrust it between the two men. ‘Goose liver terrine? You really should try it. Our cook makes it. Quite delicious.’
Arthur turned to her with raised eyebrows, then took a deep breath and held out his plate. ‘That would be nice, Kitty. Thank you.’
Fenshaw continued to nibble at his chicken leg as he shifted to take in the view of Dublin, for once free of the usual brown haze of smoke, sprawling either side of the Liffey.
‘It’s such a lovely day, isn’t it?’ Kitty gushed. ‘Far too nice to waste on talking about those wretched Frenchmen. Please let’s not mention them again today. Let’s not give them the satisfaction of ruining our picnic. Come now, Arthur and Charles, eat up.’
There was no attempt to continue the disagreement for the rest of the afternoon and the two men were scrupulously polite to each other as they made small talk, but the friendly ambience had gone and despite Kitty’s best efforts to revive it the atmosphere remained strained. Late in the afternoon, as the sun’s angled rays burnished the slope of the hill and the fields below in red and yellow hues, they packed up the picnic basket and loaded it on to the carriage. Fenshaw strode away to help the groom lead the horses back into their traces. Kitty waited until he was out of earshot before she turned on Arthur.
‘What did you do that for?’ she whispered fiercely.
‘To what do you refer?’
‘Don’t treat me like a fool, Arthur. You know precisely what I’m talking about. Why did you provoke him?’
‘I did no such thing. If anything, he provoked me, Kitty. All that nonsense about the revolutionaries and their principles. The man is a damned fool if he really believes any of that.’
‘He was just being sensitive. I thought he spoke quite well about the unjust way their common people were treated.’
‘What does he know about common people?’
‘Arthur, what do any of us know about them?’
Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but could say nothing. Kitty was right. There was as wide a gulf of incomprehension between the classes as there was between nations. He felt shamed by that knowledge. He was a lieutenant colonel of foot, and yet he knew little of those he led. Something must be done about that, if he was to be trusted with the command of hundreds of his countrymen. He must not only command them, but command their respect and their willingness to serve him to the best of their ability. In the recent campaign Arthur had seen the terrible consequences when officers distanced themselves from their soldiers and took no interest in their well-being.
Kitty nudged him. ‘Charles is coming back. Don’t say another word on the subject.’
Fenshaw flashed a warm smile at Kitty as he joined them, and kept the expression fixed in place as he nodded to Arthur. ‘All ready? Then let’s be off.’
He graciously handed Kitty up into the carriage and stood aside to allow Arthur to go next, but Arthur stood his ground.
‘You first, Fenshaw.’
‘After you, sir. I insist.’
Arthur was about to protest when Kitty began to drum her fingers on the side of the carriage. ‘If you boys have quite finished . . . Arthur, get in.’
He hesitated a moment, then did as she had asked and took the seat next to her. Fenshaw climbed up and sat opposite, his stout knees pressing between Arthur’s boots and the folds of Kitty’s skirt. The groom clambered up on to the driver’s bench, took up the reins, and gave them a deft flick as he clicked his tongue. The carriage lurched into motion and rumbled back down the track towards Dublin.
For a while no one spoke, not even Kitty, and they gazed unseeingly across the passing countryside, until at length Fenshaw cleared his throat.
‘Colonel, I must apologise if I offended you in some way. It would distress me to think that a good friend of Kitty’s was discomfited by something I had said.’
Arthur flapped a hand. ‘Think nothing of it. I was in an intemperate mood. I shouldn’t have reacted as I did. It was just that your remarks surprised me, coming as they did from a king’s officer. I imagine that you were playing devil’s advocate for the sake of debate.’
Fenshaw stiffened. ‘Indeed, sir, I was not. I stand by my opinions.’>
‘And how do your opinions stand beside your duty to your king and country? Surely sympathy for the enemy must lead to some conflict of interest, given that you may be forced to kill them?’
Kitty slapped her hand down on her thigh. ‘Arthur! You go too far.’
Fenshaw raised a hand to calm her. ‘It’s a fair question, Kitty. Let me answer.’
‘Oh, very well, then!’ She turned away from them and rested her chin on her knuckles, staring fixedly into the middle distance.
Fenshaw looked at Arthur. ‘It is true that my politics are on the radical side. Even for a Whig. But I am first and foremost an Englishman and I know that my first duty is to my country. If France tries to invade England then she will tangle with the Royal Navy first, and I swear to you that I will fight to the last drop of my blood to prevent French soldiers from setting foot on our shores. That is how things stand with me, Wesley. So do not doubt my loyalty. Do not think me a traitor. May we leave it at that?’
Arthur glanced at Kitty, profoundly wishing that he had bitten his tongue earlier in the afternoon, when it would have made a difference. But it was too late now, and he would not be satisfied until he had tested the other man’s point of view, and hopefully shown Kitty that her new beau was playing fast and loose with his principles.
‘We could, sir, but I confess I am intrigued to discover how one who has such perverse obligations will cope with them should he come into contact with French forces.’
‘Trust me, sir. I have thought this through, and my mind is clear on the matter. I will fight them as tenaciously as the next man. And given that it is the Navy who forms our country’s first line of defence, it is likely that I shall be called upon to prove myself far sooner than you are.’
It was a point well made and Arthur saw no further profit in continuing the debate, not least because he sensed Kitty’s growing fury and had the good sense not to strive for a Pyrrhic victory over his rival.
It was dark when the carriage dropped him at his lodgings in Fostertown and he politely bade the others good night before mounting the steps to the front door. As he entered the hall Arthur discovered a letter waiting for him in the mail rack, and at once recognised the hand of his brother Richard. He broke the seal and began to read. Richard was as terse as ever, and informed Arthur that he had managed to persuade Lord Camden to appoint him to a useful position within the government of Ireland.To be sure it was not as significant a post as Arthur might hope for, but it would provide a sound basis for further advancement.
Arthur read on, then frowned and read the last paragraph again before lowering the letter with a sick feeling.
‘Oh, Richard,’ he muttered. ‘What have you done to me?’
Chapter 13
‘This is just what I needed first thing on a Monday morning,’ Lord Camden grumbled. He leaned forward in his chair and continued testily, ‘It was my understanding that you wanted a government appointment. And yet here you are, bearding me in my bloody office on a matter of some vital urgency - so your note said - and now you tell me that you don’t want the job.’
‘That’s not quite it, sir,’ said Arthur anxiously. ‘Of course I want the position, and I’m very grateful that you have considered me worthy of it.’
‘I haven’t, but your brother was a most eloquent advocate on your behalf.’
Arthur did not doubt it, and wondered what political favour had been promised in return for his appointment as Surveyor General of the Ordnance. It did not matter. There was no question of his taking the post. Not if he wanted to stand any chance of finally winning Kitty as his wife.
‘My lord, may I explain?’
‘Please do.’
‘The present Surveyor General is Captain Pakenham.’
‘I know that, thank you.’
‘His niece is Kitty Pakenham.’
Lord Camden stared back at him for a moment and shook his head. ‘Never heard of her.’
‘She is the woman I intend to marry, my lord. As soon as circumstances permit.’
Lord Camden’s eyes widened as he grasped the point. ‘Ah! I see, young man. It would not be good form to depose your lady’s relative.’
‘No, my lord, it would not. Particularly as I have to seek her brother’s permission to marry Kitty, and he already thinks ill of me. So, as you can see, I am forced to decline the offer.’
‘A bad business, Wesley,’ Camden said sadly.
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘And it’s about to get worse.’
Arthur’s eyebrows rose questioningly, even as a sick feeling of dread welled up in his guts. But what could be worse than his current predicament?
‘I’ve already informed Captain Pakenham that he is to be replaced. The letter was sent three days ago.’
Arthur lowered his head, and the nausea within briefly made him feel as if he was teetering on the edge of a precipice. Three days ago. Even if it hadn’t been delivered already there was no hope of overtaking the message. More likely Captain Pakenham had fired off a bitter protest to Lord Camden and sent a letter to the other members of his family to denounce the move. Good God, he thought in a panic, it might already have arrived. For a moment Arthur visualised the scene as Kitty opened the letter, read the contents and turned her face for ever away from him. It was too bleak a vision to entertain and he shook it off, and concentrated his thoughts once again.
‘My lord, I most humbly request that you rescind the decision to replace Captain Pakenham with me. Even though I know the damage is already done, I cannot allow other people to think that I was complicit in this matter. I must be able to defend myself against any accusations of dishonourable conduct. You must see that.’
‘Of course I do!’ Lord Camden shouted. ‘What do you take me for, an idiot? Once this gets out I think you’d be lucky if some young man in that family didn’t call you out to eat grass before breakfast.’
‘That’s my fear. If it should be Kitty’s brother . . .’
‘Then you’re damned if you win, and dead if you lose.’
‘Quite.’
‘Blast you and that interfering brother of yours!’ Lord Camden slapped his hand down on his desk. ‘How do you imagine this is going to look for me? First I take the man’s job away from him, to give to someone less than half his age, then I toss it back to him as if I’m teasing a damned hound. It won’t do, sir!’
‘No, my lord.’
For a moment neither spoke as the Lord Lieutenant glared at his aide, and Arthur stood and endured the burden of disapproval, and the dread of the consequences of Richard’s intervention. If only Richard had consulted him first . . .
‘I’ll have to write another bloody letter to Captain Pakenham now. Only this time I shall have to humbly ask the man to take his job back. I hope for both our sakes that he doesn’t go off in high dudgeon, broadcasting his shabby treatment to one and all.’ He leaned forward and wagged a finger at Arthur. ‘And I think that you can forget any notion that I will help you find another post in my government. Now get out of my sight,Wesley. I’ve got a letter to write.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Arthur snapped to attention, saluted and then turned and quickly marched out of the office as Lord Camden bellowed for his secretary.
Arthur hurried from the castle and made straight for Russell Square. There was no time to waste. He had to find Kitty and explain the situation before she heard the news from her uncle. When he reached the house Arthur bounded up the stairs, paused to catch his breath, remove his hat and straighten his jacket, and then rapped the gleaming knocker. An elderly servant answered the door, smiling when he recognised the caller, and Arthur felt his spirits rise as he realised that the staff could not have been instructed to cold-shoulder him yet.
‘Is Miss Pakenham at home?’
‘I’m afraid not, sir. She left over an hour ago.’
‘Do you know where she has gone?’
‘Shopping, I would imagine, sir. Miss Pakenham has most likely gone to buy some materials from Thorns, the haberdashers on Fitzroy Street.’
‘Are you sure?’
The servant smiled again. ‘Miss Pakenham is a creature of habit, sir.’
‘Thank you.’ Arthur turned away and descended two steps, then paused and turned back. ‘If she returns before I find her, please tell her that I have something very important to relate to her. I’d be obliged if she stayed here and I’ll come back once I’ve looked for her.’
‘Yes, sir. Any other words you wish me to convey to her?’
‘No. I’ll tell her everything.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The servant nodded and closed the door.
Arthur hurried back into the centre of the city, weaving through the morning shoppers and stepping nimbly round the beggars as he made for Fitzroy Street. He entered Thorns and scoured the store, with no luck. He returned to Russell Square, but she had not yet returned home. In exasperation Arthur left a message requesting Miss Pakenham to send word to his lodgings the moment she got back, so that he might come and speak to her on a matter of great urgency.
Feeling his world tumbling into turmoil around him, he walked slowly home, head down, hands clenched tightly behind his back as he tried to frame the words he would use to attempt to persuade Kitty of his blamelessness in this whole sorry mess. It began to rain, and he realised that he had left his cape at the castle in his haste to find Kitty. By the time he reached his lodgings in Fostertown he was soaked through. The caretaker of the hous
e frowned as he saw Arthur dripping in the hall. He began to speak but Arthur cut him off.‘Earnshaw, how much to draw me a bath?’
‘Cold will cost you threepence, sir. Hot will be sixpence.’
‘I’ll give you a shilling if you can have a hot bath ready within the half-hour.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Arthur started towards the stairs but the caretaker called out to him. ‘Sir!’
‘What is it?’
‘There’s someone waiting to see you, sir. In the parlour.’ The caretaker smiled. ‘A proper lady, sir.’
‘Oh, Christ . . .’Arthur muttered. For an instant he desperately hoped it was a coincidence.Then he cursed himself. Of course it wasn’t. Kitty had already received the news. He stared down at the floor for a moment before he summoned enough resolve to straighten up and walk steadily towards the parlour door. He opened the door and saw Kitty sitting in a chair by the window. Over her shoulder the rain streaked the cheap glass and made the outside world waver indistinctly. She stared at him, lips drawn in a tight line across her ashen face.
THE GENERALS Page 10