A War by Diplomacy:
At Home and At Sea
1804
by
John G. Cragg
©2017 John G. Cragg
A War by Diplomacy: At Home and At Sea – 1804
Copyright © 2017 by Beach Front Publishing House
[email protected]
All rights reserved.
Dedicated to
My most encouraging and helpful critic
Olga Browzin Cragg
Preface
This is a work of fiction which follows on from the first two volumes in this series, A New War: at Home and at Sea, 1803 and A Continuing War: at Home and at Sea, 1803-4. They are available at Amazon.com and other Amazon sites by searching for my name or the title. The present tale takes place in 1804. A great many things have changed in the more than two centuries that have elapsed since that date, including items and phrases that may be unfamiliar to many readers. To help those who are curious, a glossary is provided at the end of the book. Items which appear in the glossary are flagged on their first appearance in the text by a * as in, for example, taffrail*.
Chapter I
Captain Sir Richard Giles rode his horse up a gentle slope to turn just in front of his house, Dipton Hall. He had been home from the sea now for more than three weeks, but he continued to take great pleasure just at being on his estate. Before him lay the newly designed grounds of his property, still a vista being created so that he could only imagine the finished look. The slope in front of him had been planted with grass seed. It had sprouted nicely and was already up almost an inch. The new lawn was dotted with raised patches of earth where flower beds would go and it was bordered with wide swaths of rich-looking earth that eventually would be perennial borders. The slope ended in a muddy area where a stone wall was being constructed that would eventually surround a pond through which would flow the stream. The water was now diverted around the area in an artificially made new streambed, which made a further scar on the landscape. Beyond the stream, the land sloped upwards towards another construction-site where an open, circular Grecian temple was being built.
The view gave him great satisfaction, even in its present unfinished state. Only a few weeks before it had been a well-tended area of landscaping where shrubs and trees hid the view that was now exposed. His wife Daphne had conceived the new layout. Together with his man-of-business and prize agent, Mr. Edwards, she had also organized the extensive work-crew and contracted with specialists to get the work undertaken. Behind Giles, a stone terrace was taking shape. New doorways to the house were being built coming from narrow and not very useful rooms in the house. There would be no need for glass doors in the French fashion. Daphne thought such doors would made it much more difficult to keep warm and draft-free the large drawing room which would have the best view of the newly reconstructed grounds.
After pausing for several moments, Giles continued around the house to its facade. To the side of the house, some distance away, he could see the new stables taking shape. Beyond them was a paddock holding several horses, the start of his stud farm. At the portico of the Hall, he was about to dismount when he noticed Daphne’s horse being led by a groom towards the stables. She must have just returned and would be upstairs changing. He thought it might be better to wait a while before he entered. Daphne’s long-time lady’s maid, Elsie, had recently left her service to run the inn whose lease she and her husband, Carstairs, had just assumed. Elsie had wanted to understand all aspects of her new responsibilities before her baby was born and her husband returned to the war. Unfortunately, Daphne’s transition to a new lady’s maid had not gone entirely smoothly. She was accustomed to Elsie’s ways and Elsie to hers. She was impatient with her new maid, Betsy, not automatically understanding what she liked or how she thought things should be done. Betsy had her weaknesses, but also areas where she was superior to Elsie. It would just take a while for the two to get used to each other. It didn’t help that the discomfort from the later stages of Daphne’s pregnancy often left his wife uncharacteristically irritable. Giles reckoned that it would be wise for him to wait a while before seeing his wife. He figured that she would be happier to see him after she had completely changed out of her riding apparel. A drink at the Dipton Arms would admirably fill the time that it would be wise for him to wait.
Giles found the new landlord of the Dipton Arms equally desirous of escaping his wife for a spell. Elsie’s pregnancy had not gone very easily from the start, and now she was suffering from swollen ankles and a sore back. Carstairs sometimes had the feeling that he could never do anything right. Despite their vast difference in rank, the two old friends settled down with two pints of ale to recount the latest neighborhood gossip. Giles, in particular, enjoyed hearing about the minor doings in his area and, just as at sea, he knew that Carstairs would bring to his attention any source of dissatisfaction among the tenants or neighbors that might require his attention.
Back at the front door, Giles did dismount, ignoring a slight twinge in his knee as his right leg took his weight. The injury was no longer preventing him from doing anything he wished. The slight discomfort did remind him that he should be getting word any day about the repairs to his frigate, Impetuous. No doubt, he would have to return soon to his duty. But for now, all was well, and he could enjoy his home without feeling rushed to get away.
Giles tossed his reins to a waiting groom and strode to his front door, not even noticing the imposing portico that graced his manor nor how its harmonious placing enhanced the whole structure. Thrusting the door open, he found Steves, the butler, standing with a silver platter containing a letter. Giles took it and was scanning it as he mounted the stairs to his wife’s dressing room.
“At last!” he exclaimed, as he entered
“What is it?” Daphne asked, looking up at him. As always her heart leapt to see the man she loved. He was quite tall and thin without being in any way willowy. His straight blond hair was brushed back, with only one wayward lock sliding forward to gently adhere to his forehead. His face was weather-beaten and lined by the countless hours he had spent on deck in all weathers, while his habitual expression, whose lines also were etched in his countenance, were ones of mild pleasure at life. His most striking feature was clear blue eyes.
“I have finally heard from the Admiralty. They want to see me at ten o’clock on Thursday – three days from now so there is no rush,” Giles replied. “Odd though.”
“What is odd?”
“That they are not in a great hurry. Usually when the Admiralty summons someone they seem to want him the day before yesterday. I don’t have to leave right away. Would you like to come with me to London?”
Daphne rose from her chair to face him. She was slim and of above average height with her nose almost on a level with Giles’s chin. Her chestnut hair was in slight disarray since Betsy had not finished brushing it to bring out its full luster. Her face was tanned more than was fashionable, a fact that didn’t bother her. Her red lips were slightly open in a smile that revealed her straight, white teeth. Her warm brown eyes that glinted with intelligence.
“Oh, Richard, yes! I have never been there. My father has always tried to avoid the city. Maybe I can see some of the sights while you are at the Admiralty, and do some shopping. I’ll take Betsy so it will all be proper. She is not annoying me quite so much as she did before, are you, Betsy?”
“I hope not, my lady,” replied the servant though her tone suggested that she was not sure that this was more than the calm before another storm.
“Thank heavens for that.” Giles said optimistically. “And in London, we can do some other things together, I hope. Perhaps we could go to the Opera or see a play while we are there.”
“Oh, this is exciting. Thank you, Richard.” Quite ignoring the presence of her lady’s maid, Daphne stepped right into Giles’s arms to give him a kiss, which soon turned into a long embrace.
“I’ll have to get ready,” said Daphne as she reluctantly stepped back. “Betsy, look out what clothes might be suitable for London and I’ll decide later, so you can be sure that they are all ready to go. And everything else that I will need. And you will need to get everything ready for yourself too, since, of course, you are coming with me. I don’t imagine that you have ever been to London before, have you?”
“No, my lady.”
“Then we can explore together when Captain Giles is occupied.”
That was a most unusual invitation coming from her mistress, but then, Betsy reflected, there was nothing very usual about Lady Giles.
Giles went to his own dressing room to get changed. There he found Ralph, the footman who was acting as his valet, ready to help dress his master.
“Ralph, I see you have already laid out my clothes. I can dress myself. I want you to go to the inn and tell Carstairs that I need to see him immediately.”
Giles had almost finished dressing when Carstairs, now in his role of coxswain rather than as innkeeper and pal, appeared.
“Carstairs, I need you to ride to London, starting tonight. Go to Nerot’s Hotel in King Street in St. James’s and reserve rooms for Lady Giles and myself. If they are full, and if they are still full after you’ve slipped the desk man half a crown, ask what other hotels might have rooms. Maybe Lothian’s Hotel in Albemarle Street. Here,” Giles stepped to his dresser to extract a few coins from his purse, “this should be enough to cover your expenses. We will be arriving sometime late on Wednesday afternoon. Meet us at Nerot’s, even if you can’t get rooms there, to tell us where to go.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Carstairs was about to leave when Daphne entered.
“Wait a minute, Carstairs. Richard, are you sending him to London to arrange our accommodation?”
“Yes, my love.”
“I think we should take Lady Marianne and the girls with us. They are rather stranded here, and it might do some good in the way of knocking off some of the girls’ rough edges. Make Catherine more interesting to possible suitors. Lady Marianne too.”
“I think that you are just being kind, Daphne, if truth be told. And I have noticed that you are mellowing towards them. All right, if that is what you really want. Carstairs, we will need more rooms obviously. Better raise that tip to a crown. And ask the hotel to book us a box at Covent Garden if they are doing an Opera, or The Haymarket if they are not, or a play if that also isn’t possible. A play, too, for another night. I forgot to tell you, but we might as well book the rooms until Sunday.”
“Richard, that is very sweet of you.”
“I don’t know about that. I am still surprised that you want to include the others, but you’re right. It is the proper thing to do. If I do have to rush off to my ship, you can, I know, manage on your own. Now, we had better go down and tell the others about our plans.”
“You know, Richard,” said Daphne, “on the way to London we can continue with the French lessons. We never seem to have enough time here.”
Giles had learned that it would be highly convenient if he understood French. When he was in Chatham during his last assignment he had obtained some material that might help in that direction. It included a dictionary and a grammar book as well as a couple of books in French. He had struggled valiantly by himself on his last cruise and had made some headway on being able to translate French into English but had no real understanding about how any of the French passages over which he was laboring should be pronounced. He had, of course, told Daphne about his efforts. She was reasonably fluent in the language having had a French governess for a while, though she had never actually used her knowledge in France or with French-speaking guests. She had suggested to Giles when he returned home with an injured knee that they spend an hour a day on her teaching him French. It was hard work, certainly, but he already was making some noticeable progress.
Two afternoons later, the coaches carrying the party from Dipton pulled up to Nerot’s Hotel. A footman gave Daphne a hand to help her descend from the lead carriage. She was followed by Giles. Carstairs was on hand to help them to their rooms and to make sure that Betsy and the attendants of Lady Marianne and her daughters knew where they would be working.
“The hotel has secured a box for you tonight at the Haymarket Theatre, Captain,” Carstairs reported, “and another one the following night. The other theatres royal are closed for the summer. And I’ve arranged for a private dining room this afternoon with roast beef as the main dish. I hope that is all right.”
“Very good, Carstairs. Do you know what is being performed at the theatre?”
“Tonight it is Artaxerxes, sir, by a Mr. Arne, and tomorrow the play is Pizarro, by Mr. Sheridan,” Carstairs read from a note-card.
Daphne and Giles started ascending the curved staircase that was one of the features of Nerot’s Hotel, a carved staircase in the fashion of the time of the Restoration. Its panels featured allegorical paintings of Greek gods and goddesses.
“Look at that nymph, Daphne,” commanded Giles.
“I see it. What makes it worth remarking?”
“It depicts Daphne, being chased by Apollo.”
“Does it? Poor Daphne. I am so much luckier to have you rather than Apollo if that is how he looked.”
“Poor Apollo. His Daphne does not bear comparison with mine!”
After changing and eating dinner, they all went downstairs to their carriages. It was not a long trip to the theatre, but the streets were thronged and the crowds became thicker as they approached the Theatre Royal in Haymarket. It must have been very stressful for their coachman, Daphne thought, as she heard him shouting from the box. He didn’t encounter crowds like this at Dipton, or even at Ameschester, the nearest real town to Dipton. She noticed a large number of garishly dressed women in the crowd, rather vulgar-looking with painted faces. It was clear that they were not chaperoned.
“Who are those woman, Richard?” she asked. “Why are they in the street?”
“They are … are… are ladies of the night, my dear.”
“Do you mean whores?” Daphne had read Shakespeare and her father had never hesitated to explain what strange words and phrases meant. “They do not look at all attractive. I can’t see why men would be interested in them. Have you ever used a whore?”
“Ugh … ugh … Oh, look, do you see the children selling nosegays*? London is very malodorous.”
Daphne left the subject. Giles had revealed the answer by his response and she would wait for a better time to pursue the matter.
At the theatre, attendants maintained a passage so that those alighting from carriages would not have to push through the crowd to enter the theatre. Giles’s party was shown to their box, a good one, Daphne realized, quite close to the royal box with a full view of the stage. Daphne, Giles, and Lady Marianne sat on chairs at the railing of the box while Catherine and Lydia Crocker sat behind them. Servants brought refreshments before the performance began. Daphne, looking around, realized that they were lucky not to have seats on the benches in the main part of the theatre or in the gallery above them. The gallery was filled with raucous patrons who seemed to toss orange peels and apple cores down on the people on the main floor. Some loud thumping induced some reduction in the noise from the audience and the orchestra launched into the overture.
Daphne was fascinated. She had never been in a theatre before, though she had seen some plays put on in the assembly rooms at Ameschester, and she had never heard a proper orchestra. When the singing started, she realized how much more exalted was the technique and expression relative to the singing of guests and hosts that entertained them at home. She was also delighted that the opera was in English, though it was not always easy to make out the words. She had been afraid that the wor
ds would be in Italian and so be totally incomprehensible to her. She was annoyed that many in the audience did not remain silent so that a constant murmur underlay the music.
Giles’s party stayed in their box at intermission, though Daphne noticed that a great many other people left their boxes. Some people entered boxes where they had not been during the performance. Going to the opera seemed to be quite a social occasion. No sooner had she noticed this than there was a knock on their own box’s door and two men entered. Giles obviously recognized them and welcomed them warmly before introducing them as two naval captains whom he had known as lieutenants in the West Indies, Captain Bolton and Captain Greenway. Both were delighted to be introduced to Daphne and the others and Captain Greenway kept Daphne amused and interested by discussing the performance. He seemed to know a lot about opera and music as well as being up on the latest gossip about the performers. Captain Bolton spent some time sharing naval gossip with Giles before turning his attention to Lady Marianne’s daughters. He and Catherine struck up a conversation about painting and he was astounded that she had never seen any of the great paintings, even though she was quite knowledgeable about them from sketches and comments in magazines. Captain Greenway slipped away when it was clear that the performance was about to resume, but Captain Bolton remained and he and Catherine continued talking until a very pointed look from Daphne indicated to them that they should be quiet while the opera was being sung.
When the curtain had fallen for the final time and everyone was about to leave, Captain Bolton suggested that he would be happy to show the ladies the paintings at the Royal Academy the following day while Giles was at the Admiralty. Daphne begged off, wanting very much to explore the shops in London, but Lady Marianne, sensing that a budding romance might be possible, accepted with enthusiasm, quite silencing Lydia who did not want to go, but who could hardly be left on her own unchaperoned.
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