The Circle of Sappho

by David Lassman

  ‘So what exactly do the blackmailers hold against you?’

  ‘A number of letters, Mr Swann, composed while infatuated with a girl at a certain establishment in the city and coerced by the recipient into writing them.’

  ‘The contents of which, if made public, would I assume be most damaging?’ said Swann.

  ‘Exactly,’ replied Charles. ‘I have surely paid the price for my indiscretions, Mr Swann, not only in monetary terms but also in anguish and distress. Putting my own political aspirations aside for a moment though, I can only guess what this would do to my devoted wife and young son if these letters were published. I feel that I have so much to offer and it hurts me to even think of its potential loss. I can almost taste success. Pitt is gradually being brought around and coming to his senses. He has to be convinced to seize control from this amateur, to put his own personal promises aside and take power back, it is the only way to defeat Napoleon. And when the day comes, which I believe will be soon, I would like to think I will form part of that government which will help to secure victory for England.’

  ‘If I understand you correctly, Mr Moorhouse, you are saying that you may be part of the next government, if you are successful in the city’s by-election?’

  ‘The by-election is not in Bath, Mr Swann. Goodness no. If I were to pit myself against such stalwarts as Thynne and Palmer I would never stand a chance. No, this is up in Knaresborough. One of the incumbent MPs has unfortunately passed away and his seat is therefore vacant.’

  ‘I do not believe I have heard of this place; it is nearby?’

  ‘No, it is in West Riding, in Yorkshire. It is a burgage borough.’

  ‘Is that similar to a rotten one?’

  ‘Only in so much as any form of democracy is absent within both. Whereas the electorate of a rotten borough are “guided”, let us say, by a certain party or parties with a vested interest as to which way to vote, the main landowner in a burgage borough appoints the MP himself. In the case of Knaresborough this is the Duke of Devonshire. Up until now it has been staunchly Whig, but my supporters believe his allegiance can be swung.’

  ‘Which MP was it that died?’

  ‘James Hare.’

  ‘I remember reading his obituary now,’ said Swann. ‘Was it about a week ago?’

  ‘Ten days to be exact, and I take it as an auspicious sign that it was here in Bath that he expired.’

  ‘He did not reside in Yorkshire, then?’

  ‘Lord no! One does not have to live among the people one represents; merely speak on their behalf in the Commons. Although having said that, from what I understand Hare was not a great orator. A fine wit though. To answer your question about a governmental position, Mr Swann, this would probably not be achieved immediately, but if Pitt does assume position of prime minister, I am certain there would be a reshuffle soon afterwards, a culling of dead wood so to speak, and I believe there would indeed be a place for me in that government. So you see, Mr Swann, it is imperative that this matter of blackmail is resolved satisfactorily and as soon as possible. If this was to continue, then either the scandal would destroy my career or …’

  ‘… or the blackmailers would have something more powerful in their grasp than money,’ finished Swann, ‘political influence.’

  Charles nodded, gloomily.

  ‘And do you think your blackmailers know this?’

  ‘I can only hope they do not, but if I am successful at this by-election they would surely soon find out.’

  Swann thought for a few moments.

  ‘My reason for declining your case, when Fitzpatrick asked me yesterday, was that I have seen far too many of them, with most ending tragically. I cannot say I will be able to resolve this to your satisfaction but I will certainly give it some thought in the next day or so and if I feel I can do anything to help, be assured that I will do so.’

  Charles smiled and rose out of his seat to shake Swann’s hand.

  ‘Thank you Mr Swann, that is as much as I could have hoped for.’

  ‘Please tell me exactly how the handing over of the money is carried out. Would I be correct in assuming you give it directly to them or is there a third party?’

  ‘I hand it over directly. I receive a message early in the morning, which tells me where and when to meet that evening and the amount of money I should bring. It has been a different location each time.’

  ‘And when is the next meeting?’

  ‘I have not been contacted yet, although I expect it to be any day soon. Lately it has been every other week and it will be two weeks tomorrow since the last time.’

  ‘Well, as soon as you find out please inform Fitzpatrick, so that he can tell me. I will be there when you hand over the payment. Do not worry, though, as I will not compromise your situation. I shall not be seen and will only be there in an observertory capacity’

  The two men left the room and headed back along the corridor to the top of the stairs. As they did so, Swann noticed an older gentleman gesturing in an attempt to catch the politician’s attention.

  ‘Thank you once again, Mr Swann,’ said Charles.

  ‘You are welcome, Mr Moorhouse. I will not detain you any longer, as I believe there is someone who wishes to speak with you.’

  Charles looked across at the gesturing gentleman.

  ‘Ah yes. Well, if you will excuse me, Mr Swann.’

  Swann watched as the politician walked over to meet the other man, no doubt, he thought, in order to tell him the outcome of the meeting. Swann went through to the bar, although there was no sign of Fitzpatrick. He had only been in there but a few moments when a gentleman approached him. The man leant forward and spoke discreetly to Swann.

  ‘Good evening, sir, I do not believe I have seen you here before. Are you a member of this club?’

  ‘No,’ replied Swann. ‘I am a guest of Henry Fitzpatrick, although I do not seem to be able to locate him at present.’

  ‘Ah, very good, sir,’ replied the gentleman. ‘I believe Mr Fitzpatrick in is the Faro room, sir.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Swann made his way out of the bar and along the corridor, to the room Kirby had entered earlier. As soon as Swann went in he observed Fitzpatrick, albeit through a dense cloud of cigar smoke. He was sitting at a card table. Swann hesitated, but then went and sat down in the vacant chair next to the magistrate.

  ‘Ah, Swann, there you are. I decided to try my luck at Faro.’

  Across the table came the familiar voice of Kirby. ‘Will you join us Swann? I have the bank.’

  ‘I do not play,’ said Swann.

  ‘Each to their own, I suppose,’ said Kirby. ‘Henry, another round?’

  Fitzpatrick nodded and Kirby dealt the hand. There were four other players gathered around the oval-shaped table. The game was easy to learn and had become popular due to its fast action and odds of winning. Players would participate by placing bets on cards pasted on a board, which had one complete suit – usually spades – on it. A deck of cards would be shuffled and the top card would be discarded. The next two cards were then dealt out by the dealer, the first card drawn being called the ‘banker’s card’, the next, the ‘players’ card’. Any player who had placed a bet on a card pasted on the board and whose denomination matched that of the ‘banker’s card’, lost their money. Anyone who had placed a bet matching the denomination to the ‘player’s card’, however, won and received back double their bet. Two more cards would then be dealt by the banker and the game would continue, with the rest of the rules mostly being picked up as the players went along.

  The game of Faro was, however, as Swann knew only too well, one of the card games where cheating was almost compulsory. Any man could cheat if he knew the game well, though the banker, who also dealt, would normally hold court above all. It was little wonder, he thought, that Kirby was in the banker’s seat. As Swann watched for several hands, he noticed that Fitzpatrick and the other players had their share of luck but that the banker natura
lly had more. By the time they played a fifth hand, Swann could tell Kirby was cheating and by the seventh hand was able to observe how he was doing it. It was an old trick and Swann reprimanded himself for not noticing it sooner, though he had not been in a card room for at least five years. Although he knew Kirby was cheating, the way in which he was doing it meant that he could easily deny it and Swann would not be able to prove it. At the same time, he did not wish to cause disruption in the club, as he was, after all, a guest of Fitzpatrick. He would wait for the right opportunity.

  ‘Count me out,’ said the man two seats to the right of Fitzpatrick, after Kirby had enjoyed a run of six consecutive wins.

  ‘Better luck next time,’ said Kirby, shuffling the pack once more.

  ‘I will take his place, if that is agreeable Kirby?’ said Swann.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Kirby. There was, however, a slight expression of surprise in his eyes, which Swann immediately noticed.

  The top card was once again discarded and the following two laid face up, one either side of Kirby. The banker immediately began to lose and the other players started to win a little of their money back. Swann himself won the first three games. Kirby laughed at Swann’s ‘beginners luck’, as he called it, after he won the next two hands as well, but soon realised the other man was also cheating.

  ‘Something wrong, Kirby?’ asked Swann innocently.

  ‘You seem to be enjoying an awfully good streak of luck, Swann; perhaps too good one might be inclined to say,’ replied Kirby.

  ‘Nothing you did not enjoy yourself before I joined the game, I am sure.’

  Their exchange brought the room to silence.

  ‘Then let us increase the stakes and see who has the better continuation of it. I suggest ten guineas per game.’

  At this increase several players signalled their departure from the game. After a few seconds Fitzpatrick also gestured his retirement. This left just Kirby and Swann.

  ‘It is time to change the deck, if you have no objection Mr Swann. Perhaps it might put us on an even level.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Swann.

  Despite this move, which Kirby had orchestrated to give him the upper hand, Swann won the first three games. The other players had stayed on to watch and there were murmurings of admiration from several of them. Kirby looked visibly shocked. Nevertheless, after the next hand, which he also lost, he picked up a handful of coins and said: ‘Let’s play one hand for five hundred guineas.’

  ‘You are being ridiculous, sir, there is surely a limit,’ said one of the gentleman watching.

  ‘As banker, I set the limit. If Mr Swann does not want to play for these stakes, he can simply leave the table and let a real gambler sit down.’

  Swann smiled and remained seated. He then placed his bet on the knave card on the pasted board.

  ‘The knave turns fool that runs away,’ said Kirby, smiling.

  ‘“When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again. I would have none but knaves follow it since a fool gives it.” King Lear, Act II, Scene IV,’ said Swann, finishing the quote.

  ‘You know your Shakespeare, Swann, I will grant you that.’

  Kirby then dealt the two cards and placed them face down onto the table. He turned the ‘player’s card’ first. It was the nine of hearts. There were gasps from those watching, the room now swelled by members who had been told of the enormous wager. Kirby now picked up the ‘banker’s card’ and gradually turned it over to reveal the Knave of Spades. He placed it down with a malevolent smile on his face.

  ‘It seems your winning streak has just ended, Swann.’

  Swann stared in disbelief at the card, knowing he had been taken by a truly accomplished cheat. He did not wish to cause a disruption by accusing Kirby of cheating, especially as he had been doing the same, so instead he simply congratulated Kirby on his win, settled the wager and stood up, ready to leave the room with his host.

  ‘Truly bad luck Swann,’ replied Kirby, ‘but then you know what they say: like father, like son.’

  Swann stopped and turned back towards Kirby.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I was just commiserating with you over your loss.’

  ‘You mentioned my father. Why?’

  ‘Well, from what I have heard, before he died he was a terrible gambler and never knew when to stop. It seems you have inherited that part of him.’

  Before anyone else could react, Swann had moved around the table and struck Kirby in the face, sending him sprawling backwards against the wall.

  ‘You can say what you like about me but never insult my father’s name again, or I will end your life!’

  Kirby rose slowly to his feet, helped by two other members.

  ‘Then I will offer you the chance. Bathampton Down at dawn on Sunday. I assume you will be Swann’s second, Fitzpatrick?’

  Fitzpatrick nodded solemnly.

  ‘I will send my second to finalise details with you. Now, I suggest you escort your guest out of this club.’

  Swann turned and left the room, followed by Fitzpatrick. Behind them Kirby wiped the blood from the side of his mouth, but there was a smile upon it.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Bath, Tuesday 27th March, 1804

  What a fool I am! Falling for the oldest play in the book. Why did I not see what Kirby was doing? He was playing the long game, reeling me in with each separate win I achieved until, blinded by arrogance, I allowed myself to be beaten on the final hand. But then this is how these Machiavellian schemers operate; ensnaring their victim, pretending to unintentionally lose, again and again, when in fact they are merely biding their time for when the stakes are high enough to spring their trap.

  But what could I do? I know there is a sickness in me, which takes hold whenever a game of probability offers its chance of exhilaration; an opportunity to pit one’s skill against that of another and lady luck herself. At the same time, there is Fitzpatrick. I was his guest tonight but behaved abominably. I shall seek out his forgiveness tomorrow and offer to send a formal written apology to the club. No, wait! I am away from Bath all day and will not return until late. I will send a note to him in absentia and inform him I will endeavour to meet him personally the following day.

  As to the challenge Kirby has set down, I can simply refuse to take part in the duel and if my honour becomes sullied as a result, then so be it. A misheard word, an unintentional gesture, a wrongly interpreted expression; all these things I have witnessed as being the reason for a duel and in each case one of the participants was subsequently killed.

  I am angry that the magistrate insulted my father’s memory but I will not take a life over it, not even Kirby’s, however much I may dislike him. At the same time, I do not wish to put my own life at risk. To what purpose would either of our deaths serve? If I were to kill Kirby, what would I have achieved? I will have the blood of a magistrate on my hands and, given the illegal nature of the duel, there is every possibility I might end up in prison and would then not be able to continue my pursuit of justice for my father’s death. Of course, if I myself was to be killed, this would naturally conclude that quest as well.

  What demands to be answered though is why Kirby made the remarks he did? Where did he obtain his information? How did he find out about my past and why insinuate that my father was also a gambler? Did Kirby know about my time in France, when I recklessly gambled away my allowance twice over? It was only the disappointed expression on my adoptive father’s face on my return to England which brought this addiction to its end. Or was it the time in London, with my lawyer, when I once more allowed myself to be taken over for a short period, at the expense of several thousand pounds?

  My father was fond of watching other people play and learning about the various con games – his particular favourite being the three cups – but my father had been a responsible man and not one to frivolously gamble his money away.

  It was in my father’s memory and his fondness for confide
nce tricks and the men who perpetrated them that I learned as much about it as I could. That is why I can easily mark a man out who is cheating. But, it means nothing if one is not playing in an honest game; there is always someone who will be a better cheat than you, as tonight proved, especially if they hold both bank and cards. I allowed my heart to rule my head because I wanted to teach Kirby a lesson. Yet it was Kirby who taught me one and I have learnt it well.

  Unlike before, I can now afford to lose five hundred guineas, although I resent the fact that it was won by a man whom I have come to find so disagreeable. But more than that, I am ashamed of my behaviour when I think of men such as George and Bridges, and others in the Avon Street district, who struggle every day to feed and clothe themselves and keep a roof over their heads. George confided to me at the Fountain that Bridges’ companion Rosie, the woman who confirmed Thomas Malone’s identity to me last October, is about to lose her lodgings through an inability to pay her ever-increasing rent. I do not know exactly how much it is, but it can only be the most trifling figure in comparison with the sum that I lost tonight on one turn of a card. In fact, between the three of them – George, Bridges and Rosie – I doubt they will ever accumulate five hundred guineas, even if all the money they possess in their lifetimes were added together.

  The events of this evening have therefore given me a sense of perspective. Tonight has also made me reflect on what might have happened if my life had been different, if my father had not been murdered and I had not been adopted by the Gardiners. What would my position in life have been today? Would I be living a meagre existence ‘on the street’ like George and Bridges? Or would I have somehow still risen above my station, or at least that of my father’s, and achieved wealth in another way? I would have learned to read and write, as my father would still have been alive to teach me, but what of education? Would I have had one? It seems most unlikely. And what of my career, my occupation; would I have been destined to follow in my father’s footsteps and become a servant, to live a life in service? Of course, the key question that has to be asked is would I have gambled so much if I did not know there was money to recompense my debts? These are all passageways of conjecture my mind could wander endlessly the entire night, but the simple truth is this is my life and I am who I am.