That evening he called upon the Drummonds, to find that his old home lu.d not only been well looked after but in many respects improved, as the banker had spent a considerable amount of money on it. The young couple now had a girl of two and a boy of nine months and Mrs. Drummond was
again 'expecting'. They were very happy in the house’ and wished to stay on there; so Roger willingly agreed to renew their tenancy for a further three years. They then pressed him to stay on to supper and he enjoyed a merry meal with them.
Jim Button, he learned, had gone to live with a niece and her husband in their cottage at Pennington; so the next afternoon Roger rode over there. Jim was now in his middle sixties but still hale and hearty. While Roger talked to him of old times the buxom niece bustled about to provide a bumper English tea, the like of which their guest had not enjoyed for years. But she had four young children and the cottage seemed to Roger too small for such a family to live in in comfort. So instead of doubling Jim's annuity as he had intended, Roger told him that he meant to give him a thousand pounds out of which he could buy a much larger place and still have a good nest egg over. In those days to such people a sum of that kind was a fortune and, full to the gills with home-made bread, jam and cake, he rode away with the blessings they called down on him still ringing in his cars.
On the 18th, having been assured that he would always be a welcome guest at Walhampton, Roger said good-bye to the hospitable Sir William and took coach to London. When he reached Amcsbury House he learned that Droopy Ned was in residence but had left an hour before and was not expected back until the early hours of the following morning, as he had driven down to Sion House at Isleworth, the residence of the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland who were giving a ball there that night. Droopy's father, the Earl, as was his custom all through the shooting season, was at his seat, Normanrood in Wiltshire, and the only person staying in the house was an elderly cousin whom Roger had always found a bore. So, having been installed in his usual room and freshened himself up after his journey, he decided to sup out at his Club.
As he had an hour or more to spare and the evening, although cold, was fine, he went out to stretch his legs in a stroll round the heart of fashionable London. Piccadilly was brightly lit as the shops then stayed open late, the roadway was packed with coaches, carriages and horsemen, the pavements crowded with a motley throng of homeward bound pedestrians, hucksters and ladies of the town dressed in tawdry finery. Roger was always polite when rebuffing these young painted harpies but, finding himself accosted at every twenty paces or so when he paused to look into a shop window, he tired of saying, 'No, thank you, m'dear,' or 'Not tonight, my pretty,' and turned out of Piccadilly into Berkeley Street.
On his left lay Devonshire House and as he walked at a good pace alongside the tall wall behind which lay the Duke's big garden he suddenly realised that he was heading towards Berkeley Square. Immediately his thoughts turned to Georgina. Although her betrayal of him had caused him more bitterness than any other event in his whole life, time had at least healed the wound sufficiently for him to dwell now and then on some of the many happy hours they had spent together.
While riding from Paris to Dieppe he had even hoped that when she learned that he was again in England she might seek a meeting with a view to expressing her contrition for her abominable act, and he had decided that should she do so he would readily forgive her. In any case he meant to get in touch with her to arrange to see his daughter and, if she was agreeable, her boy Charles. But that was a thing apart from healing the breach between them and he felt that after having put the Sheriff's officers on to him the first move must come from her.
Yet now, as he was approaching Berkeley Square, he realized more fully than he had ever done before what an appalling gap their quarrel had left in his life. Although from the age of fifteen he had lived for much the greater part of the time abroad, whenever he had come back to England Georgina had always been there to give him a tempestuous welcome. They had had no single secret of any kind from one another, talked and laughed the hours away and, regarding themselves as two beings bound by a tie that transcended all accepted standards of conduct, made passionate love regardless of marriage vows or any other commitment.
It had long been clear to him that John Beefy had represented something entirely different in her life from her two previous husbands and the many gallants with whom she had had passing affairs; so he had come to condone the fury and distress she had displayed on the assumption that he had killed Beefy in a fit of drunken jealousy. But what he did not understand was her refusal to believe his word that it had been an accident and. in any case, in view of their very special relationsliip, to forgive him. Even more puzzling was the fact that, although she had appeared as a witness when he had been tried for murder and had saved him from hanging she should, four months later, have still felt so bitterly towards him that she had deliberately betrayed him.
But all that had happened well over a year before, and surely by now she too would at times think with regret of the shattered love that had meant so much to them. Why not, he thought to himself, be generous and make the first approach? At this time of year it was as good as certain that Georgina would be in London and, at this hour, unless she too had gone down to the ball at Sion House, be dressing either to go out or to receive guests.
Roger's heart leapt at the thought. They had only to come face to face for all to be forgiven and forgotten. Whatever her commitments for that night, she would ignore them, pleading a sudden attack of the vapours. They would sup as of old before a roaring fire in her boudoir and later, fortified by good wine and drunk with the joy of their reunion, lie clasped in one another's arms between the sheets until morning.
When he reached the St. Ermins' mansion, his new-found elation subsided as though a bucket of icy water had been sloshed into his face. The house was dark and shuttered, so evidently Georgina was not in London.
Recovering slightly at the thought that, now he had decided to call bygones bygones, he could go down to Stillwaters next day, he rang the front door bell. After waiting for a few minutes he rang again then, as it still was not answered, he grabbed the bell pull and jerked it up and down until at last an elderly servitor, mumbling apologies for his delay, opened to him.
To his enquiry the man replied, 'Nay, sir; Her Ladyship is not at Stillwaters. She sailed last month for the West Indies to arrange for the disposal of her late husband's estates there. But the children are at Stillwaters in the care of Mrs. Marsham.'
Bitterly disappointed, Roger thanked him and turned away. Gone now was all prospect of restoring his erstwhile happy relationship with Georgina, anyhow for many months to come; for within a few weeks Talleyrand would expect him back in France with a report on all he could pick up about the plot to assassinate Napoleon, and it was impossible even to make a guess at when he would again be able to come to England.
His spirits now very low, he walked back to White's. There he found several old acquaintances, supped with four of them, drank fairly heavily then, although he was not normally a gambler, sat for four hours playing faro. Morosely, as he walked across to Arlington Street at half past two in the morning, he recalled the saying 'lucky at cards, unlucky in love', and the fact that he had come away from the club with three hundred and fifteen golden guineas in his breeches' pocket did not console him.
With the sleepy footman on night duty at Amesbury House he left a message that he was not to be called until Lord Edward roused, and would join him for breakfast. Both of them slept late and it was not until midday that Roger, still in his chamber robe, went along to his old friend's suite. Over eels in aspic, kidneys and bacon, a cold game pie and other trifles, washed down with copious draughts of fine Bordeaux, they lingered for two hours.
Roger, as always when with Droopy, made no secret of the reason for his return to England and consulted him on how best to set about his mission. Droopy peered with his shortsighted eyes across the table at Roger a
nd said:
'Meseems that in this matter you are become a police spy. Hardly a role I would have expected you to play; but no doubt you have squared it with your conscience.'
'I have,' replied Roger firmly. 'Were the French Royalists alone concerned in this I'd have naught to do with it. Only by destroying Napoleon can they have any hope of placing a Bourbon Prince again on the throne of France. After ten years of exile and penury certain among them may have become so desperate that they would even stoop to murder to gain their ends. That they should have sunk so low is lamentable but, in view of their fanatical hatred of the usurper, at least understandable; and their bitter enmity towards him none of our affair.
'What is our concern is that the British Government are, at least to some extent, assisting in the plot. The French espionage system is extremely good and Talleyrand gave me chapter and verse for our government's participation. In August last the Chouan leader, Georges Cadoudal, was landed at Biville from a ship commanded by Captain Wright on the instructions of one E. Nepean, an assistant to Admiral Montagu in our Admiralty. It is also known that towards the end of that month, at the instigation of the royalist Baron de Roll, our Permanent Under Secretary for Foreign Affairs called on His Highness the Comte d'Artois who was then living at No. 46 Baker Street. This resulted in the Prince producing a memorandum naming those Generals and others in France who could be counted on to help in overthrowing Napoleon. Meanwhile Cadoudal, together with Mehee de la Touche. had proceeded to Munich and there, with or without the authority of the Government, our official representative. Mr. Francis Drake, furnished them with funds to further the conspiracy. Mehee then went to Vienna and enlisted the support of the Honourable Charles Stuart, our Charge1 d'Affaires there; but the French got wind of that, seized the go-between and took his papers from him. So. you see, should this plot to assassinate Napoleon succeed, the French will be able to produce evidence that the British government was at the bottom of it.'
Droopy nodded his narrow head, 'I appreciate now why you are deeply concerned. From all you have told me Napoleon's popularity in France is immense; so were he assassinated and the deed laid squarely at our door, the rage of the French people would be such that there'd be no prospect of their agreeing a peace with us for another generation. You are right Roger; even if it means that a number of Frenchmen who are only pawns in the game must lose their lives, the attempt must be stopped.'
After a moment Droopy went on, 'The state of things here is pitiful. On the renewal of the war last May, the British people became united as never before. As you well know, during the Revolution a great part of the masses and the Whig nobility, led by Charles Fox, was undisguisedly pro-French. Although we were at war with that nation, carried away by the new doctrine of "Liberty, Equality and Fraternity" they would have created a revolution here had not firm measures been taken to suppress them. They hailed the conquests by the Revolutionary Generals of Belgium, Holland, the Rhineland States and, later, Bonaparte's of Italy, as triumphs against ancient tyrannies which must benefit mankind.
'But now, matters are very different. By the Peace of Amiens we came near to licking the boots of the French. We gave them back all the conquests that during eleven years of war many thousands of British lives had been sacrificed lo make, agreed to their retaining territories that made France a mightier nation than ever before and, in fact, did everything possible to ensure a lasting peace. And with what result? After barely a year’Bonaparte's grandiose pretensions forced us into war with him again.
'Before, it was felt by at least half the nation that the French were Crusaders, fighting at first desperately to protect their newly-won liberties, then to benefit the people of neighbouring lands by releasing them, too, from serfdom. But now it has become clear to all. The French are not liberators but dcspoilcrs of the lands they overrun; and this new war has but one object; the aggrandisement of Bonaparte. Tis that which has united the British people against him; so that he is known here now as the Corsican Ogre, but our tragedy at the moment is that all this patriotic fervour is being so hopelessly misdirected.'
'From what little I have been able to gather of the matter,' Roger remarked, 'our trouble lies in having a near-mad King who cannot fully grasp the situation, and so will suffer only Ministers subservient to him, instead of ones capable of directing the war against the French.'
'You are right in that. King George's poor bemused brain revolves round one subject only; to resist being pressed into breaking, as he believes, his Coronation oath, which forbids Roman Catholics to hold office. Seeing that Mr. Pitt was set on putting through his Catholic Emancipation Bill, the King fell back upon the hopeless mediocrity Addington and allowed him to choose that imbecile my Lord Hawkesbury as his Foreign Secretary. In such feeble hands now lies the fate of our poor country.'
'Hawkesbury must receive all reports from our Secret Service,' Roger said, 'so must be aware of the activities of the French exiles. Think you he would be disposed to disclose such matters to me did I wait upon him?'
Droopy looked dubious. ' Tis possible; but the man is an utter fool. So much so that those acquainted with him oft refer to his "vacuous grin". The odds are he'd hum and haw and you'd get no further. You'd do better, I think, by approaching your old master. Although he has been out of office for some time, he was Prime Minister for so long that his knowledge of our intelligence system must be unrivalled. Moreover, that quick, clear brain of his would grasp at once the importance of thwarting this conspiracy, so you could count upon his doing his utmost to aid you.'
'Tomorrow then, I'll ride out to Bromley.'
'No, no!' Droopy shook his head. 'Mr. Pitt is no longer at Holwood. As you know he has no private fortune, and having given all his thought for so long to the welfare of the nation he allowed his own finances to fall into the most ill condition. Even before he left Downing Street and was still receiving his stipend as First Lord of the Treasury the bailiffs threatened to remove his furniture against debts of a few hundred that he could not immediately meet.
'What a shocking thing!' Roger exclaimed, "Tis disgraceful that a man to whom the country owes so much should be harassed by private debts.'
'I'm with you there, and his integrity is such that he'd not take advantage of his high office, as did his predecessors, to make himself a single guinea. From time to time his friends have come to his assistance but, even so, over a year ago he was forced to sell Holwood House and acquire a smaller residence; Bowling Green House on Putney Hill. But you'll not find him there cither. On the outbreak of war, although only a private member, he appeared in the House and made the speech of his life, thereby carrying the miserable Addington's motion, against the opposition of Fox and his cronies who would have had us kow-tow to Bonaparte. Then, since he is still Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, he went straight to Walmer Castle and raised a battalion of militia, of which he is now Colonel.'
'What! Billy Pitt become a soldier?' Roger exclaimed. 'He, so frail and ill a man, so unsuited to being exposed to the elements at all hours, and long night marches. I would ne'er have believed it.'
Droopy smiled, ' 'Tis the fact, though. And 'tis said that his Fenciblcs are the best trained and disciplined on all the Kent coast.'
'If Napoleon docs invade, they will need to be,' Roger rejoined. 'For it will be on the Kent coast that the brunt of the attack will fall. I'll go down to Walmer then, as you advise, and seek the help of Britain's greatest patriot.'
'What of Christmas?' Droopy asked. 'Three days hence I set out for Normanrood to spend it with my family. You should be back by then and would be made most welcome if you'd accompany me.'
‘I thank you, Ned. No prospect could be more pleasant. But my mission is urgent and on my return from Walmcr I ought not to go so far afield from London as Wiltshire. I learned last night that Georgina is gone to the West Indies to dispose of Mr. Beefy's estates there; but the children are at Stillwaters and, if it be possible, I'd like to spend at least Christmas Day with them.'
'I see no bar to that. I'm told Georgina left them in the care of her father and your late wife's aunt, Mrs. Marsham.'
Roger nodded, 'Colonel Thursby was ever my good friend and Aunt Marsham is a pleasant woman. I'll send a note asking if they will have me for a night or two. A reply should reach here by the time I get back from Walmer and I doubt not 'twill be in the affirmative. Meanwhile, so as to lose no time I'll book myself a seat on the night coach for Dover.'
At Dover next morning he freshened himself up then hired a postchaise to take him on to Walmer, arriving there shortly before midday. Outside the Castle he found a great concourse of people watching a parade that was in progress and soon learned that General John Moore, who commanded in East Kent from his headquarters at Shorncliffe, was inspecting Mr. Pitt's two battalions, each a thousand strong, of Cinque Port Volunteers.
Using his postchaise as a grandstand, Roger watched the review, marvelling to see the tall, stooping figure of the Prune Minister that he had seen so often behind a desk now stumping up and down and shouting orders as sharply as a sergeant major. The stumping was caused by one of his boots being much larger than the other; so Roger knew that he must be suffering from an attack of the gout which sadly plagued him, and admired him all the more for his devotion to his country.
When the parade was finally dismissed Colonel Pitt and his officers escorted the General into the castle. Roger realized then that he would stand little chance of a private conversation with his old master that afternoon, and would have to stay overnight in Walmcr; so he sent his driver with his valise along to the inn with orders to book him a room. But he felt that there was no point in delaying making known his presence and, entering the castle, had his name sent up. Five minutes later Mr. Pitt was shaking him warmly by the hand and presenting him first to his niece, Lady Hester Stanhope, who was keeping house for him, then to the assembled company.
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