“That little gentleman is in no expectation of a return to command, I presume?”
“No. He is ‘awaiting orders’, and will wait till Hell freezes over before Lincoln trusts him again.”
“Good. I presume the bulk of his followers have been eased out of their positions on the staff?”
“All gone, or so I believe. Some have, one understands, migrated to the service of the French in poor Mexico.”
“’Poor’ Mexico, my lord?”
“’So far from God, so close to the United States’, sir.”
Dick laughed obligingly.
“Would the new Emperor of Mexico have any views on California and Texas, my lord?”
“He would wish them to be returned to their native country, I believe. Mr Lincoln is rather anxious to ensure that Texas is quickly brought back into the safe keeping of the United States government as a result.”
“An interesting set of possibilities, my lord. How fortunate that I have no plans ever to voyage to Texas, my lord.”
“A wise decision, Major Burke. I understand that it is the intention of Whitehall to remain wholly uninvolved in the area.”
Dick was relieved; he had worried for a moment that the Embassy might wish him to travel to the Gulf.
“In all decency, Major Burke, I imagine that I must repack these valises and despatch them to London.”
Lord Robert lifted one of the bags to his desk, stopped thoughtfully peering at it.
“What say you of the substance of the sides of this valise, Major Burke?”
“The left is thicker by a quarter of an inch than the right, my lord. Surprising, one would expect the leather to be of uniform quality – these are not inexpensive pieces of baggage.”
“And the stitchery, Major?”
“Differs internally from that on the outside and begs to opened, my lord! Have you a sharp knife to hand?”
Two minutes with a penknife caused the side of the bag to sag open, disclosing six sheets of notepaper.
“Oh my stars, Major Burke! Details of three bank accounts in Washington and Baltimore, with passwords to establish the identity of the client. That will replenish our secret funds, sir! Given as a contact is the name of Mr Fortescue, Second Secretary at the Embassy here! He will have some explaining to do!”
Dick tapped the holster at his side, carried because he was in uniform in Washington – officers being two-a-penny on the streets and attracting no attention at all.
“No, not in Washington, sir. Besides, the Ambassador might not like it – I must inform him of this part at least of their activities.”
Dick shrugged, noticing as he did so that it really did not matter at all to him; he had grown callous, it seemed.
“Little else of interest to us. Advice from an unknown correspondent not to make contact with Mr Fisk in Saint Louis as had originally been advised – an untrustworthy man it now seems.”
“I would second that advice, my lord. He has many contacts with the South, all of them in the line of smuggling cotton north and luxury goods south. A corrupt man, and given to occasional bouts of carelessness; I doubt he will be long-lived, he is reckless in his arrogance.”
Lord Robert did not ask how Dick came to be so well-acquainted with Mr Fisk, but he would remember the fact.
“So, Major Burke – back to England or to act as observer of the Army of the Potomac?”
It was none too difficult a decision – he had been rewarded with a commission in the British Army, which gave him the status of a ‘gentleman’ and a rank in the lesser levels of society. That could be turned into money in the business world. Another service for the government and he could expect additional rewards, not in cash, but in the intangibles of influence, which could be worth far more.
“I believe that I should continue here for the while, my lord. Let us be quite honest, as well – my father is a self-made man, a rich merchant, and I am sole heir. At the moment I am to be a wealthy outsider in England, known to none of importance. I am very willing to be of service to the Crown as a result.”
“Your children could then easily become part of the upper crust, Major Burke. A son who was made baron would be an achievement to be proud of, sir. Not impossible, either.”
“A letter to General Halleck, do you think, my lord?”
“Better a word from His Excellency to Mr Lincoln, Major Burke. You should meet the Ambassador, I believe.”
A reward in itself – to be on terms with the Ambassador meant that there was a figure in Whitehall to know him in a few years’ time.
The Ambassador was polite and interested to meet Major Burke – he had, he said, heard of him. Kuyper shook his head in the background; not his doing.
“One is informed that you met up with an ex-Guards officer in Wilmington, North Carolina, Major Burke. No need to name names, of course. He had, one is given to understand, been talking loudly of his knowledge of government affairs and had asserted that Whitehall wanted nothing more than to recognise the Confederacy. In itself unimportant, except that he repeatedly claimed to be a confidant of Royalty and to ‘know’ that Her Majesty was pressing for aid to the South. One does not, Major Burke, take the name of Royalty in vain! Your action, assumed in the South to be at Whitehall’s instigation, did much to dispel any belief in Royal favour, much to government’s relief. It is understood in Whitehall, by the way, that you came to hear of the gentleman’s indiscretions and was inflamed to anger by them, your respect for our Monarch being so great. They do not conceive of the concept of fighting to preserve one’s personal honour; they are politicians, after all!”
“Yet it was all the purest accident, my lord. I had no knowledge that the damned man was present in Wilmington, and had arrived there wholly by chance. Not to worry – the favour of Whitehall may always be of value.”
“It can be, Major Burke, but it may be lost as easily as it is gained – loyalty is not a known concept there.”
Dick shrugged; he would take his chances.
“Now then, Lord Robert – let us speak to Fortescue while the Major is here and may act as a perceived threat in the background. We may inform him of how the two came to die.”
Fortescue was of an age with the dead men, had in fact been at school with the pair. He swore that he had no other relationship with them, had not known they were to come out to the States, was not aware of their purpose in so doing.
“So you say it was to assassinate Northern generals, my lord, in order to further the establishment of a true aristocracy in America? A fine aim, obviously, my lord. America would be much the better for an end to this nonsense of democracy, and it sets a shocking example to the mob in England! I would have been much in sympathy with them, as must be any well-born man, do you not agree?”
They did not agree, at all.
“Well, most people would, my lord, of that I am quite certain.”
“Government does not, Mr Fortescue.”
“Oh, well, politicians, my lord…”
“Our masters, to whom we owe unquestioning loyalty, sir!”
“I prefer to think that my loyalty is to my country, my lord.”
Fortescue smiled, seemed to think he had scored a winning point.
“It is clear that your loyalty is not to me, sir! I have no use for untrustworthy men on my personal staff! You will be given the opportunity to resign your appointment, Mr Fortescue, thus enabling you to seek a post elsewhere – in St Petersburg, perhaps, where you might feel more at home. If you have not resigned by close of business today, then you will be formally dismissed in the morning and Mr Lincoln’s government will be requested to remove your diplomatic accreditation – necessarily a public procedure.”
Once dismissed Fortescue would never work for Whitehall again, in any dimension. If he chose to resign then he would be forced to make his own way back to London, and Washington was an expensive posting, the cost of living far in excess of a diplomat’s tiny salary, so he might well not have the price of a ticket i
n his pocket.
Fortescue was in debt and took dismissal and the added humiliation of a second-class passage from New York; they arranged for him to leave before the story reached the Press and the bailiffs came for him. They did not want him locked up in Washington and possibly attempting to buy his freedom.
“He will be an enemy of yours in London, I fear, Major Burke. And one cannot call one’s foes out into the street there, sir!”
“London may look after itself, my lord. I shall not be there for a while, I believe.”
“His family has interests in India, my lord,” Kuyper commented. “They will get him aboard ship with all speed, I doubt not. Dismissal from Government service is an embarrassment and the family will want him out of sight as quickly as may be, to Assam, one expects.”
“There to plant tea, one might imagine, and grow beastly fat with a dozen native women in tow and the whiskey bottle at his side. A worthy fate for such a man!”
They laughed loyally.
“What is for you next, Major Burke?”
“Lord Robert has arranged for me to become an observer with the armies in the East, my lord.”
“Perhaps not, Major Burke. I have received a request only this morning for a man with knowledge of the West to perform a small function in Canada. There is a problem developing, some folk with the peculiar name of Metis, who apparently are falling out with the French in Quebec and with the English in the rest of Canada. They are, it would seem, a possible obstruction to the building of a railway to cross to the West, to Vancouver, and the Hudson’ Bay Company has asked for a source of information relating to the problem. A journey on horse, sir – just a few hundreds of miles; a few questions asked and then a peaceable return to civilisation. One might, as well, detail a route that could be taken across the Prairies for the benefit of the many settlers who will flock to the wheat fields as they are opened.”
“Six months, my lord, at least.”
“You might consider a return to England thereafter, Major Burke. Reporting to the Canada Office in Whitehall and adding to your reputation as an expert in the American field.”
“I will go, my lord. It will, I suspect, be at least as interesting as watching the activities of staff officers in a military headquarters.”
“You will, of course, be compensated for your expenses, Major Burke, in addition to drawing full pay as an officer on foreign service.”
Dick murmured his thanks – a few hundred one way or another was of no great importance, he believed.
“Delay just three days, Major Burke, if you would be so good, until we have removed Fortescue from the scene. You will travel by way of New York as well and would not wish to be in his company en route.”
The bank manager was a very polite gentleman and very kindly accepted Miss Parsons’s instructions. He realised fully that Major Burke was unable to leave his post of duty and had had no other messenger to send across the Atlantic; it was very brave of her to undertake so taxing a commission. She must tell him exactly what Major Burke wished for his money and the manager would see to all the details – there was no need for her to worry her pretty head with such matters! Had she ventured into the town centre yet? There were a number of dress shops in Liverpool almost as fine as could be discovered in London town – he was sure they would provide her with an occupation during her lonely days.
She debated pulling out her pocket pistol and killing him, but that might be regarded as excessive even among sympathisers.
What was most annoying was that she almost had to do as he suggested; if Parsons and Burke were to buy into a shipyard and steel works then she must step back herself. There was no place for a woman here.
She returned to her hotel, angry that she knew so few swear-words – ‘damn and blast it’ was hardly satisfactory. She picked up a newspaper, glanced at an article which gloatingly compared the struggling French iron and coal industries with the gloriously successful enterprises in England. She saw that the French were best suited to activities such as champagne making – and that was mostly controlled by a woman!
If women could take part in one industry in France, then probably they could run firms in another. She informed the desk that she would be checking out in the morning and went in search of a guide to France, specifically to the location of the major shipyards and iron makers.
She took the early express train to London where she overnighted and booked her tickets to Dover and Calais.
There were, she soon discovered, only a few modern shipyards in France – but they were already producing ironclads of various sizes and remarkable design. The French engineers had concluded, much as Bleaker had, that small ships with a few and very heavy guns were the model for the new age. Unfortunately they had been betrayed by an inadequate iron and steel industry – armour plate was slow to produce and despatch to the yards and the production of ships made wholly of iron was as yet beyond them; the heavy guns as well existed more in theory than practice. A few weeks and she was convinced that a steelworks could not run at a profit for lack of demand from any other customer. There was certainly less resistance to women possessing money, but there were few opportunities for any enterprise at all.
She returned to Liverpool, disheartened, to discover that Bleaker had arrived and had waited for her a week before making his own way to Newcastle where he had found employment with a large manufacturer of great guns and armour plate, using his knowledge of Dahlgren guns and Ericsson’s monitors to his own advantage. She was forced to admit that there was simply no place for a businesswoman in Victoria’s England.
There was only one course remaining. She visited her bank once more and transferred her money back to Washington and then took tickets on the next Cunarder sailing to New York. She admitted defeat and would go back to the States, there to seek out Major Burke and take her proper place in his shadow.
She arrived in Washington and marched unannounced into the firm’s offices. Larson was there and welcomed her calmly, sitting her down with the books and expressing his pride in the profits made in her absence.
“Wartime, of course, ma’am, means many more opportunities together with rising prices, but I think we have done more than respectably.”
She blinked at the bottom line and agreed.
“As regards the landholdings in the West, ma’am, I have visited once and have made so bold as to appoint Major Burke’s lawyer as our agent as well. The major has made several purchases and more are in the way of completion. He spent a week or two in Kansas City earlier in the year, ma’am, not two months ago, in fact. He was involved in an unfortunate contretemps with a pair of English lordships, neither of whom survived their meeting, and then returned to Washington, visiting several times in this office before he left…”
“When did he go?”
“Two weeks since, ma’am. He deposited a letter with me.”
Sergeant Bill had waved her farewell and was glad to see her go; he did not need the bother an arrogant American woman would create in his existence; he had far too much to do.
Mrs Boswell’s latest tonic had stretched their production capacity to its very limit and a new factory, three times as great as their first, was almost complete. That was all very well, but it meant laying his hands on three times the weight of opium, preferably from the Persian suppliers, their quality being the highest. The latex was there, but the old traders hardly needed new customers; many were so lethargic that he had come to believe they smoked their own pipes. He had to travel to London, to do the rounds of the importers, negotiating deals with each and persuading them to bring in a few tea-chests more of their ‘mud’, as they insisted on calling the product.
The supply of medical alcohol was simple – they installed their own larger still. Customs and Excise raised a few protests but were eventually persuaded that Boswells was not producing unlawful hooch for the black market and allowed the process to continue under the rules governing bonded premises. Strict and honest records were kept of the qu
antities fermented and then distilled and used in the main factory. It was cheaper to be honest, Sergeant Bill found, than to pay the enormous bribes otherwise demanded; unlike politicians, public servants did not come cheap in England.
The earliest, small part-cargoes were sent to New York and sold out within days. The new factory came into production and sent a first run of a thousand dozens of pint bottles across the Atlantic, and a demand came back on the same ship for as much again, every week. The new factory started a night shift and Sergeant Bill took the express train to London to beat on the importers’ doors again.
Everything had to be negotiated, face to face – it was impossible to work by letter. That meant he had to peregrinate across half the country at least once a fortnight – he was lucky to see his own home as often as three nights out of the seven.
He had come to find his own house a most desirable place – not least because of a complaisant wife awaiting his return. He had done very well in his marriage, he decided, and no doubt would enjoy life as a father as well – and that was a real prospect already.
He had recently received a letter from Josh Painter that had disturbed him no little, and he was to go south to Dorset as a result, fitting that trip in between his business needs. Sir Godby was unwell, Painter said, and it might be accounted wise to see him sooner rather than later…
A distressing prospect, for he owed Sir Godby much and had as well a degree of affection for the gentleman. Sure, Sir Godby had made his mistakes, but no man was perfect. At least he knew now that he had a son in many ways worthy of him, could die the more contentedly for that.
The Embassy discovered that a mistake had been made in its cavalier dismissal of Mr Fortescue; they had insulted him and had ended his every prospect of a successful and eligible diplomatic career. He had hoped to make his way to ambassadorial level, to an eventual peerage accompanied by a Grant-in-Aid that would have seen him as head of his own House. Dismissed from the service and the most he could hope for was undistinguished comfort far from London in a remote colony; a life of ignominy as a planter was to be his lot. He had nothing to lose.
Dire Shenanigans (The Making of a Man Series, Book 2) Page 17