Frederick opened the sealed package, glanced at the two sheets enclosed.
“The Admiral's compliments and a note from Captain Jackman. Trident made port last evening and Captain Jackman has been informed that we are in residence and begs to pay us a visit tomorrow, to stay a day or two before going into Dorset.”
“A change of plans then, husband. We must accompany him to Abbey and then spend a few days arranging celebrations before we go to London.”
Captain Jackman had lost the trace of diffidence that had previously marked him; his years as a captain had made him not arrogant but quite sure of himself. He arrived accompanied by coxswain and servant, as was right for his rank, and greeted Frederick with unalloyed pleasure.
“I have word to look for six months ashore, Sir Frederick! Trident is due for the dockyard, having been long enough at sea in the Tropics to need attention to her hull. We have been pumping for a few minutes longer just of late and I much suspect that she has lost a sheet or two of copper below the waterline and that there is worm in her. The yard will discover if that is the case, I doubt not.”
Elizabeth joined them, shook hands and somewhat quizzically enquired whether Captain Jackman intended to hurry down to Dorset.
“I intend to, Lady Harris. I shall trespass upon your hospitality for two nights, if I may, and then it is down to my own house and give orders to make one or two improvements I have been considering before I pay a call upon your father, ma’am.”
“I believe you will be a very welcome visitor, sir!”
“I much hope so, ma’am!”
Captain Jackman disclosed that he had been forewarned of a call to London, to be expected within the month, and he thought that he might wish to visit a tailor in the immediate future.
“I am, Sir Frederick, in need of something new in the way of uniforms.”
They inspected the faded, weather-beaten cloth he was wearing and gravely agreed; it would be as well.
“Ideally, you might wish to visit a tailor in London in advance of the demand to attend at St James, Captain Jackman.”
“St James? I had thought I was to go to the Admiralty!”
“Both, from all I understand, Captain Jackman. I am told that your successes in the Sugar Islands have rendered it appropriate that you make your bow to His Majesty.”
“I had not expected that, I must say, sir.”
“It is overdue, in my opinion, Captain Jackman!”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“I am told that you have done quite well for prizes, Captain Jackman.”
Jackman grinned, admitted that he had. The Spanish had actually entered the war and he had picked up quite a few of rather foolish voyagers soon thereafter; apparently the Spanish had announced that their great navy had swept the Caribbean clear of the English and any number of their merchants had believed them.
“Not to match Admiral Duckworth’s success, sir – seventy-five thousands they say he made from his treasure ship! But a number of lesser captures of five thousand here and ten there!”
“Amazing how they mount up, is it not, sir?”
“On a serious note, sir, it is quite remarkable! I must give my prize agent his instructions - there was a letter awaiting me at Portsmouth, begging me to give him his orders!”
“I have just put some twelve thousands from this last commission into Consols. They are very low at the moment, for fear of the Combined Fleet. I have no doubts that Lord Nelson will destroy them if they venture out of Cadiz, and Lord Barham tells me that Bonaparte has been threatening Villeneuve with death if he does not stir soon. On the destruction or scattering of the Mediterranean and Spanish Fleets, which Lord Nelson will certainly achieve, then Consols must rise again to their past levels. They are at about fifty points now and were nearly ninety last year; I suspect they will rise to more than eighty even on a minor victory.”
Consols carried a low interest rate and had no redemption date, but were generally agreed to be safe, as long as Britain was not invaded. The price of Consols provided a good indication of how the war was progressing – the lower their value, the worse the City believed Britain’s prospects to be.
“I shall order my man to purchase Consols immediately, sir. An Express to London will be the best idea, I think.”
They wrote the instruction and despatched it to the City next morning, travelling to Winchester to do so. While they were in the old city Frederick and Elizabeth took Captain Jackman to Abrams, the jewellers, in a not so subtle hint that he really should go to her sister bearing gifts.
“Oh, yes! I had not thought of that – what do you suggest?”
By purest coincidence Elizabeth had a note of the size of Charlotte’s finger.
“A diamond ring is traditional, I believe, Captain Jackman.”
They discussed stones and selected a brilliant of suitable, and not small, worth; Abrams promised that it would be set in a ring that very day and delivered to Boorley Green not later than two hours after dawn. For money anything was possible, and his sailor customers had more spare cash than the great bulk of the local gentlefolk.
“I happen to have some pearls to hand as well, gentlemen, recently come in and rather well put together, I believe…”
They travelled to Dorset on the following day and joined in the celebrations of the betrothal at the end of the week, all in the most satisfactory fashion. Frederick gave a little thought to the matter and then addressed a letter to Sir Iain Farquhar, informing him that he and Captain Jackman were both in England and mentioning purely in passing that Captain Jackman was to marry the second daughter of Lord Partington, sister to his own wife. No stranger, such as Sir Iain’s wife, who came across the missive would read anything into it other than a piece of gossip; there was no hint of any relationship between Captain Jackman and the Admiral.
The first part of October passed in busy journeying between Dorset and London and the introduction of Captain Jackman to Frederick’s tailor.
The whole country seemed to be waiting for news from Spanish waters – there was a general certainty that something must happen, though it was confirmed that the Army of Invasion around Boulogne had broken camp and was marching hard for France’s eastern borders.
The expected instructions arrived from the Admiralty and the pair were bidden to attend the First Lord at the beginning of the third week of the month. Frederick spoke with Lord and Lady Partington and persuaded them to venture to the Metropolis themselves, though the size of Augusta made it ineligible for her to travel and George chose to remain at her side.
The two captains strode into the Admiralty building, informing the porters that they were expected, had appointments, and showing their orders to prove the fact. The waiting room was even more full than normal, confirming the rumour that Lord Barham was dilatory in the extreme in answering his supplicants. The porter who led them to their chairs mentioned that Lord Barham did not like to refuse the poor lieutenants who begged him for promotions and ships and therefore preferred not to see them at all.
The old gentleman had aged even in the few weeks since Frederick had first seen him, but his mind was still alert and he remembered why he had ordered the pair to him.
“Next summer, Sir Frederick, Captain Jackman, will see the need to rebuke the Russians and terrify the Turk – I say, that rings rather well, don’t it? Yourselves together, with a squadron, will have the job. What I would wish to know is, just how you would like to arrange the matter. I would expect, if I am still here, to despatch a pair of two-deckers and three, even four frigates, if I can lay my hands on them, and some smaller craft; a very respectable squadron. The question, Sir Frederick, is whether you are a Commodore of the First Class with Captain Jackman under you as captain of your ship, or whether you each have a seventy-four, thus making it easier to detach a unit, if need arises. What is your opinion, sir?”
“I had rather be of the Second Class and captain of my own ship, my Lord. There will, as you say, be times when it will
be right to send a flotilla away on a particular duty and I could imagine no better man than Captain Jackman for such a purpose.”
Barham chuckled, wiping his mouth afterwards, a certain absence of teeth bringing a tendency to drool.
“They said that would be your answer, Sir Frederick. I agree, it is the course I would have preferred, many years ago when I was still at sea. At five or six months distance I cannot tell what ships may be to hand, sir, but if possible I shall find a Second Rate for you, to add some power, and a Third for Captain Jackman, one of the better, speedier seventy-fours, a French capture, ideally. Your follower, Captain Warren, is at sea again, having taken nearly two years on half-pay following a most eligible marriage; if it can be arranged, I shall add him to your squadron. Captain Forshaw as well is expected to return to England within the next little while; he was made post nearly eighteen months ago and has a very neat little frigate, whose name I forget, but with which he has chased down more than one pirate in the Indian Ocean. He was one of your people and you must wish to see him again under your command, sir – you will have your own Band of Brothers, I doubt not!”
Frederick smiled and agreed – that would be truly wonderful; he was sure Captains Warren and Forshaw would love to serve together again!
“Now then, gentlemen, you are both to present yourselves at the Drawing Room on Thursday. Wives and intendeds also, gentlemen. I believe Lord Partington is father to your ladies? Is he in Town?”
“He is, my Lord, and his lady.”
“Very good! Let them also attend, if they would be so good.”
“Heigh-ho! To the tailors, Captain Jackman, and let us both be thankful for prize-money!”
London tailors were at the height of fashion, but they were not inexpensive. They were privileged souls in many ways and their clientele were obliged to smile at their pretensions.
“Sir Frederick, I have taken the liberty of raising your collars by as much as one quarter of an inch above the correct height. You will thus discover the scarring across your shoulder and neck to be hidden, sir. It is also the case, I trust, that the fabric will not chafe – new burns can be very tender, I am told.”
“That is very good of you, sir – the skin is still in that stage of itch and I would not like to be seen to be twitching and jerking in front of His Majesty.”
“Nor you should be, Sir Frederick. For you, Captain Jackman, I have been able to emphasize your manly figure, sir. I will make so bold as to presume that long service in the Sugar Islands has left you with no spare flesh at all, sir, thus to give a narrow waist and powerful chest – in many ways a delight to a tailor, sir – it is easy to cut to your shape! For your scarring, being on the cheeks, I can do nothing, sir; it is, of course, a badge of honour in itself!”
Jackman had ceased to be conscious of his face; the splinter wounds on each cheek were no more than a nuisance when he shaved, a minor irritation.
“Will the scars be remarked upon in Society, sir?”
“They must be noticed, and many a man who has never gone to war will feel himself the less for seeing them, sir. They are a mark of pride, sir.”
“Thank you.”
The tailor bowed and promised to make his deliveries to the house in Mount Street in good time for the appearance at Court.
“Does all of London know that we are bidden to St James, Sir Frederick?”
“Not necessarily, but your tailor will always know everything, and normally before you do. It is one of the rules, it would seem.”
A young lieutenant brought a note from the First Lord that evening, saying briefly that the Bath had not been possible for Captain Jackman but that all else was in hand. Frederick shrugged; from all he had heard it would have been unusual for that honour to have been available to a young man who was a number of years away from becoming an admiral.
The King was sane, much to the chagrin of the Prince of Wales, who was reduced to far lesser significance. The Prince was in debt, had more than his share of marital problems, the issue of bigamy in the public eye again, and was said to be making inroads simultaneously into the brandy and the laudanum bottles; he did not welcome frequent and tedious lectures from his moralising father. He was, however, so much in debt that he had to show willing and attend boring Court functions that he would far rather have skipped; he stood behind his parents at the Drawing Room, a petulant scowl on his plump face.
The Prince noticed Sir Frederick and Captain Jackman in the official line to be presented, their blue naval uniforms showing up among the great mass of army around them.
“I know that sailor fellow, do I not?”
He asked the question of thin air but Colonel Georgie Hanger, almost hidden behind him, answered in a whisper, giving the identification and the previous circumstances of their meetings.
“And the scarred one?”
“Merely a naval hero, sir.”
“Ah – who is that over on the left who has just exchanged greetings?”
“I believe that to be Lord Partington, backwoods and poor, of no interest to us, sir. Said to be one of these Evangelicals, as well – a pain in the fundament, sir.”
The Prince had been interested at first – an unknown peer might be the source of a loan, but not if he was poor.
“Partington is father to the two ladies on the sailors’ arms, sir. Lady Harris and the wife-to-be of the other man, Jackman. He is of some slight interest, but why I do not know – something about his parentage. Critchel would know.”
They saw Critchel, the politician and power-broker, making his bow to Frederick.
“He is said to have a friendship for Sir Frederick Harris; besides that, there is the Alton clan, sir. Coming man, Harris!”
Eventually, the Prince would become King. When that day came it would be useful to him to have a coterie of followers of ability. The Prince was sufficiently intelligent that he knew most of his current intimates to be utterly self-serving; they were using him in the hope of gaining advancement, or of re-establishing themselves in Society having been ostracised for their ill-conduct. His friends and partners in vice would be of little use to him as King; he must recruit others of a trustworthy nature. He was vaguely aware that would be a difficult task, as very few were left who trusted him.
The line wound its way past Queen and King, Her Majesty to the fore as it was a Drawing Room rather than a Levee. Most bowed and curtsied, merely stating their loyalty by their presence; a few were honoured by a brief conversation; some received marks of His Majesty’s favour.
“Captain Sir Frederick Harris, Your Majesty, and Lady Harris.”
“Ah, Sir Frederick! I am informed that you have distinguished yourself on the coast of Spain, sir, in a number of actions in Euripides, a small two-decker.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“In process you defeated and destroyed several times your own weight of Spanish vessels. To note those acts, sir, you are awarded the smaller Naval Gold Medal, a mark of your zeal in my service!”
The Medal was placed round Frederick’s neck with great solemnity.
The Medal was a rare mark of distinction, fewer than three score yet having been awarded, all to the victors of particularly meritorious actions.
Frederick bowed, Elizabeth curtsied and they moved a pace to the side, watched as an aide produced a light dress sword.
“Captain Jackman and Miss Hackett, second daughter to Lord Partington.”
“Captain Jackman, you have been victorious in a number of actions as a frigate commander, often closing to pistol shot of far larger vessels. You have recently played a part in our most successful campaign in the Sugar Islands, and are to be congratulated and, indeed, rewarded. Kneel, sir.”
Three quick taps on the shoulders with the dress sword and Sir Iain was bidden to rise and further honoured with his King’s smile. The old gentleman turned to Charlotte, stood proudly beside the newly-made knight.
“I understand you are to become Lady Jackman, ma’am.”
&
nbsp; “I have that honour, Your Majesty.”
“I wish you happy, ma’am!”
She curtsied in acknowledgement.
They stepped away, into the mildly interested throng, inevitably found themselves facing Mr Critchel.
“Knight Bachelor, Sir Iain – and, may I make so bold as to say, thoroughly deserved, sir! Our sailors are our sole defence for the while and must be honoured as such.”
“Thank you, sir. I am envious of Sir Frederick’s distinction, however – and will claim it to be far more deserved than mine.”
“Your valour was much commented upon, Sir Iain – how many times did you cross Santiago at pistol shot, sir? His Majesty could not mention the name, as you know, but Society will, with admiration!”
“It was necessary, Mr Critchel – and on such occasions one does what one must.”
“You have learned from your mentor, Sir Iain! I remember some years ago Sir Frederick saying much the same!”
Critchel passed to Sir Frederick, quietly commented that he had done his best but that the Bath had not been possible because there was some slight doubt in the air about Sir Iain’s parentage – a vague feeling that he might have hitherto unsuspected naval connections.
“Has there been talk, do you know, Mr Critchel?”
“A little; there is an increasing commerce with the Sugar Islands and inevitably as Sir Iain has become more prominent so his name has been mentioned, with the effect of triggering memories. It happens!”
Lord Partington joined them, austere, still disapproving of war yet with nothing other than respect for courage; as ever he was torn between his own principles. His lady was nothing other than proud, however.
“I know not how it comes about, my love, but we now have two daughters wed into the aristocracy of Mars – or should it be Neptune? We must be most respectful of our family, I believe.”
“We must, my lady. In time of war and of our country’s need then we cannot be other than thankful that there are men such as Sir Frederick, and now Sir Iain, who will perform such dire duties. But, you know, I could wish they took perhaps a little less glee in their tasks! I am pleased for our daughters – their happiness is a delight. I am also, I must reluctantly confess, not upset by the existence of prize-money; Sir Iain disclosed his circumstances to me, of course and I was amazed at the sums he mentioned.”
A Busy Season (The Duty and Destiny Series, Book 8) Page 17