Fire and Folly (Man of Conflict Series Book 3)

by Andrew Wareham

  "Interesting! Perhaps you would like to make contact with my brother, Mr George Pearce, who generally looks after my financial interests. You will appreciate that I am often overseas and he is my overseer, as it were."

  The agent knew of George Pearce - every man of business in Hampshire knew the name and the face and most of the major figures of commerce outside of London would recognise the firm. He nodded glumly. The Sheriff, who would give the final approval of any price, would be much inclined to favour George Pearce and would have little concern for the agent's commission on the deal.

  "He quoted two thousand seven hundred and fifty, George, as his first price. We would very much like to make the purchase, brother. Over the years one might throw out a wing, or two, and buy more of the hillside... It is prettily enough placed in the valley, sheltered in the downland to catch the sun. It is a seat, George."

  "And a general must have an eye to his future dignity, must he not, Septimus!"

  "He must indeed, but a thought for the comfort of the family does not come amiss, either!"

  The purchase was put in hand and the house was theirs to walk into before spring when a Royal Command, no less, was placed before Septimus.

  "We are bidden to London for next month, Marianne. We are to present ourselves at a Drawing Room!"

  The Drawing Room was presided over by the Queen and those attending were expected to bring their wives, unlike the Levee, which was normally male. It was a commonplace for the King to be present as well, if he was feeling sane that day, and it was often the case that Honours were awarded there. The Danish campaign had been successful and it was assumed that Admiral Gambier and General Cathcart would be awarded English Baronies for their part; there might be knighthoods for lesser mortals, a ribbon or two perhaps, possibly the odd sinecure. Presentation to the Queen, and the King if he was there, was an Honour in itself, and one that would aid Septimus' career. Born into the merchant class, and not East Indies rich, he expected no more.

  It was not an inexpensive affair. There was a laid-down Court Dress which ladies must adhere to - old-fashioned Eighteenth Century hoop and feathers - and that had to be tailored in London, for lack of a dressmaker elsewhere who had access to the patterns. In itself that demanded at least a week in Town. Septimus had to refurbish his formal attire as well - one could not display the least suspicion of faded scarlet or tarnished gold lace. There would be little left from two hundred guineas by the end of the week; a poor man living on his pay would be impoverished for years by the award of an Honour.

  The carriage brought them into St James on a wet and windy day, involving much struggling with oilcloth and umbrellas to protect their finery, but they reached cover without permitting their feathers to droop. It was, they felt, quite possibly a test of their virtue - the best-bred would not be incommoded by a mere rain storm.

  The Drawing Room was held in a state room slightly smaller than that used for the Levee, and better furnished and far cleaner. Perhaps it was the female eye that ensured the floor was sometimes mopped and the paintwork scrubbed.

  A coterie of self-important secretaries identified those commanded to be present and placed them in order to the right of the room; the left was occupied by members of Society who had the right of entree and often attended to see and be seen.

  "We are in the second row, I see," Septimus whispered to Marianne. "Near enough to the Presence to be spoken to individually rather than favoured with a general nod. You will be addressed by Royalty, my dear."

  He identified the military figures present, was pleased when Cathcart caught his eye and nodded to him and half-bowed to Marianne - very courteous of the old gentleman!

  There was a stir and the Queen was led in, King George at her side but the lesser figure on the day. All present made their deep bows and curtsies, as was protocol, straightening as the Royal Personages placed themselves to their convenience.

  They were not a handsome pair; the Queen short and with a mouthful of teeth over a receding chin, the King fat and bulging-eyed. Both seemed amiable enough, however. The Duke of York stood behind them as it was essentially a military occasion; he too had a benevolent expression carefully assembled on his face.

  General Cathcart, possessing a Scots barony already and thus senior, was brought forward and was informed of his promotion to the House of Lords; investiture would take place in a separate and solemn ceremony on another day. For the while he was now Lord Cathcart rather than Baron of the same name. He bowed and retired, clearly delighted. Admiral Gambier was next for his peerage, far more solemn of face, but he was of a sombre, theological disposition. General Wellesley stepped forward and was offered his King's thanks - for political reasons he could not be ennobled at this point and a lesser honour was inappropriate just at that moment while he and his brother were enmeshed in accusations of corruption in their Indian years; he could wait his turn, almost inevitably to come as he must receive further commands. Three other major-generals who had taken part in the expedition were brought forward, collecting two knighthoods and a Bath between them - the army was doing well today. The captain of the frigate who had succeeded in the only single-ship action of the campaign, taking a far larger Danish ship, was given his knighthood, it being the navy's turn. To his surprise Septimus was called forward next.

  The Duke of York stepped to the front and informed the gathering of Septimus' distinguished service, reminding them that he had been twice promoted in the field; his battalion had distinguished itself in the battles around Koge and had provided an example of good conduct in the siege and its aftermath. Septimus was also a member of one of the most outstanding of the new families in his County, the Duke said.

  The King smiled and peered in his general direction, his failing eyesight probably unable to locate him precisely. He cleared his throat rather wetly and announced that he was pleased to make his loyal subject a member of the baronetcy of England; he was now...

  A rather loud whisper from behind gave the name - the old man was becoming a little hard of hearing as well.

  "Colonel Sir Septimus Pearce!"

  Septimus was amazed. He had thought that he might be in line for a knighthood on the next occasion the Hampshires took part in a winning battle, but he had had no expectation of a hereditary title before he made general. He made his bow and stepped back to join Marianne, bathing in her delighted beam.

  Later he was brought into the presentation line and made his bow to the Queen, Marianne at his side. They were favoured with a few words from Royalty and retired to a proper place of obscurity towards the rear of the gathering.

  Wellesley sought them out and added his own words.

  "There is an interesting business going on in Portugal, Sir Septimus. An army is to land to fight the French invaders. I am to have the command in part, sir."

  "I would be very pleased to bring my battalion to the campaign, sir."

  "Good. Your servant, Sir Septimus, Lady Pearce!"

  A stocky gentleman with a piercing eye and rather self-important air - an obvious politician - stepped towards Septimus and announced himself to be Canning. He was dressed plainly in a frockcoat, a dispensation granted to Ministers of the Crown when Parliament was sitting and they might not wish to afford the two hours needed to don and discard Court Dress. He made it clear that he had no need to advertise his importance by wearing fancy clothing. He offered his congratulations and begged that they would convey his compliments to his brother. The implication was obvious even to Septimus.

  "The baronetcy has been given in acknowledgement of George's aid to the Party. They cannot give him a title - he is a merchant, no more, no less - but I can be rewarded, thus to convey glory to the whole family. Jonathan will now be second baronet on my decease, eminently respectable and able perhaps to earn himself a barony in time. He could look to become a Member of Parliament and serve as a Minister of the Crown; he is intelligent enough I suspect to pursue his own interests."

  "General Wellesley wishes you to
serve with him in Portugal, Septimus. Must you go?"

  "Now, more than ever, my lady. The General is in pursuit of a career of glory and I can rise on his coat-tails. I had never wished to be more than a Redcoat, but the opportunity is now upon me. The whole family must gain from my success."

  "And if you fall upon the field of honour, husband?"

  "Then Sir Jonathan will have his title and will take up the burden of service, with great opportunities available to him. You and I shall not grace High Society, my lady - but he may well do so. His sister may marry into any of the best families in the South of England."

  Septimus had achieved much - he had advanced already farther than any provincial merchant's son might reasonably expect. Another ten years of war, or a particularly long and vigorous campaign, and he would be known to the bulk of the powerful in the land, to the great advantage of his children. He was in effect knocking on the door of the aristocracy and his son might well open it.

  An equerry came across to them and directed them towards the front of the room, delayed them a moment until he was free and then took them to his master, the Duke of York.

  "Colonel Sir Septimus Pearce and Lady Pearce, Your Royal Highness!"

  They made their deepest bows.

  "I am very pleased at your success, Sir Septimus. You have more than justified our faith in you, sir! General Moore has mentioned that he has had report of you, sir, and I have it in mind to place your Hampshires under his command when he goes overseas in the near future. He has finally managed to return from Sweden and will go to Portugal later in the year. He has his Rifles, as goes without saying, and it will be well to select a few of the more modern battalions to accompany him."

  One did not protest a Royal Command; General Wellesley must come second in this instance.

  Septimus bowed his gratitude.

  "Major Perceval is one of yours, is he not, Sir Septimus?"

  "He is, Your Royal Highness, and has made himself into a fine officer in the field. He knows exactly where he must be when the muskets sound, sir!"

  "Very good! A member of a prominent family, of course, and I have no doubt that he has learned from your example, Sir Septimus!"

  "I have been very lucky in my officers, Your Royal Highness."

  "Many would say the same for them, Sir Septimus, that they have been especially fortunate in their Colonel. I wish you well, sir."

  The Duke turned to Marianne, addressed a few commonplace words to her, saying that he knew of the Osbornes as a leading family of Hampshire, was very pleased to meet a representative of them. He made it clear that he had taken some pains to discover, and approve of, her background.

  King and Queen left the salon and those present were at liberty then to withdraw. Septimus delayed a fraction to avoid the first crush, exchanged bows with a gentleman who had gravitated to his side.

  The nobleman was in full civilian court dress, a number of orders draped across his chest.

  "Castlereagh, Sir Septimus."

  Lord Castlereagh was Canning's greatest rival in the Party; he would feel obliged to make the acquaintance of any coming man Canning chose to take up.

  "A remarkably successful campaign, Sir Septimus. One that has produced much short term gain for the country."

  "It would seem so, my lord. Although I am a soldier, I must accept that England relies upon its navy for its survival and any hope of ever winning these wars. The sailors appear most pleased by the gain in strength that the Danish fleet represents and one can only admire the daring stroke that led to it."

  "Well said, sir."

  Castlereagh was not entirely pleased, as Canning had been the originator of the strategy, but he had himself been a member of the Cabinet that had approved it and was quite happy to associate himself with success. He bowed again and they parted.

  They returned to Winchester and presented themselves to George, overwhelming him with delight.

  "It was made very clear to me, brother, that the baronetcy was awarded to the family and recognised your endeavours at least as much as mine."

  George would have none of it - the promotion was all of Septimus' earning.

  "I will make very sure that it is known, of course, brother. I may well dine merchants of my acquaintance in the very early future!"

  The following day took them and the children to the Osbornes, both bursting with pride that their daughter had been bidden to Court and demanding every detail, all to be passed on to their acquaintance, evidence of the family’s rise in the world. The whole of the County would soon be aware that the Osbornes were a step further up the ladder of Society.

  "Sir Septimus must tell you all, Papa - it is his baronetcy that has made me Lady Pearce!"

  "A baronet! At so early an age! I am amazed, dumbfounded! I am so pleased for you my dear! Jonathan, has your father explained his glory to you?"

  "He has told me that his name has changed, Grandfather, and that mine must do so one day. Mama says that he is now an even greater man, sir!"

  "He is a baronet now, and you will be second, after him, for it is an hereditary title!"

  "But, I cannot be until he dies, sir, and I do not want that to happen!"

  The little boy was much distressed and they explained that it would be many years before he gained the title.

  "Will you attend the Assembly next week, Sir Septimus? I would be so proud to enter the chamber at your heels!"

  The title meant that Septimus must now take precedence over his goodfather - the rules were inexorable and he must be seen to obey them. The very act of entering the Assembly Rooms first would alert the many to his promotion in life.

  The Lord Lieutenant was informed by the Lord Chancellor's office of Septimus' title and reacted properly. An invitation to become a magistrate, to sit upon the Winchester Bench was sent within the week and it was suggested that he might wish to discuss taking a part in the governance of the City, joining the ranks of the Mayor and Burgesses,

  He accepted magistracy without question; it was very useful to the colonel of a battalion to be able to enter into discussions behind the scenes when his soldiers broke the law. An unfriendly bench could be a source of great difficulties - it was not unheard of for whole platoons of drunken, brawling private soldiers to be transported. A well-disposed set of magistrates might choose instead to remand the miscreants to their own officers' tender care. Four dozens for bringing the regiment into disrepute was a preferable solution, the soldiers in question returning to the ranks after a few days of recovery.

  The matter of joining in the governance of the town he begged to be held in abeyance as he could not take a part when overseas, which he soon expected to be with his battalion.

  Septimus sent messages to Majors Carter and Perceval, begging them to attend him in his office.

  "General Moore is to take an army to Spain, I am told, gentlemen. We will probably be a part of it. I had hoped to join General Wellesley in Portugal, but the Duke of York has made his dispositions and we are not to complain."

  Septimus explained, primarily for Perceval’s benefit, that the two young Lieutenant-Generals were the coming men of the whole army. Wellesley was deeply involved in politics, which gave him a certain advantage, but Moore was highly intelligent, very handsome, and advanced in his thought, which made him the darling of High Society – the pair were neck and neck in the race to be the next great General, the successor to Marlborough.

  “Are we now made part of Moore’s camp, colonel?”

  “Not wholly, I hope, Major Carter. The Duke of York has given his orders, and we have no freedom to argue. The Hampshires are known as one of the better battalions at the moment and there is some competition to land us, which Moore’s people have won this time. Wellesley will know that we must do as we are told – I have no voice at Horse Guards and have no alternative to immediate obedience; he is also an intelligent man and he will use his sense, I believe.”

  “Is it important, sir, this campaign in Spain?” Perceval
was expressing the views of very many in England who could only see the backward countries of Spain and Portugal as insignificant in Europe. The aim of the war was to defeat the Corsican Tyrant, Bonaparte, not to play games on the periphery of his Empire.

  “I do not know, Major Perceval. He has sent his Marshal Junot to conquer the Peninsula and the Spanish people have risen and offered him a first defeat. It is to embarrass him, I think, in the eyes of Russia and Austria and the Ottoman so as to strengthen the coalitions against him, that British armies are to enter the campaign. Bonaparte is the great military man of Europe, the one who has never failed; a defeat in Spain, unimportant in itself, must tarnish his reputation, make him just another and more ordinary figure. Add to that, Britain must be seen to fight, to do more than blockade Bonaparte’s coasts, and this is where there is an opportunity.”

  “Could we not perhaps land a force on the French coast, sir? There has been talk of an expedition to take Boulogne and establish a foothold in France. Surely that would be a more direct challenge.”

  “Would it be successful? Bonaparte could send a million troops against such an invasion, given two months to march them from the frontiers. I do not see how we could put more than fifty thousand into the field – and I do not much fancy fighting at twenty to one!”

  Even Perceval could understand those odds.

  “So, as I understand you, sir, the Spanish are to provide numbers while the British make up the edge of the blade?”

  “To a great extent, yes – though it is not impossible that the Spanish may not see the war in that light. And one must not forget the Portuguese, of course…”

  They could not quite see why they should not forget the Portuguese, for, if Spain was insignificant nowadays, then Portugal was not the tenth part of Spain, had not been for centuries.

  “What must we do, sir, in preparation?”

  “Not a great deal, gentlemen. Recruit a few more men to replace those lost in Denmark and to enable us to get rid of the elderly and less strong of our people. Drill the men, to keep them up to standard. March them, especially – Spain is, or so I am told, a land of mountains and harsh, dry plains. The men need their stamina; they must be fit and strong. Finally, keep them up to the mark with their muskets – three rounds a minute, correctly pointed and wholly together, that is the very least we can accept. Four is to be aimed at, as always, but we must accept that will only occur when holding a wall, when conditions are at their most favourable. The Frogs are said to be strong in their cavalry, so we must be able to form company and battalion square quickly; it would be well to practice on rough ground, I think.”