Fire and Sword

by Simon Scarrow

‘Kitty, it is you who honour me.’

  ‘Shh! I know the truth of the situation. Just promise me that you will be fair and honest with me. I could not bear to be hurt by you, Arthur.’

  ‘I promise, my darling,’ Arthur replied as earnestly as he could, and then he turned to stare out of the other window as the carriage rumbled through the cobbled streets of Dublin, closed in on both sides by tall drab buildings that mocked the unblemished blue heavens above.

  They stopped for the first night at an inn on the road to Dangan and ate a cheap but hearty stew in the small back room reserved for the better sort of guest. The landlord built up a small fire and then left them alone with their meal and a jug of his best ale. The conversation was stilted at first, and then, as they shifted the topic of conversation on to the times they had shared many years ago, a genuine warmth entered their exchanges. For Arthur it went some way towards rekindling affection for Kitty, but every time he looked closely at her there was only a shadow of the young woman he had known, and it was hard to stem the growing sense of lost opportunities as the evening wore on.

  At length, they finished the meal and there was an awkward silence before Kitty cleared her throat.

  ‘I think I will go and prepare for bed, my dear. I won’t be long. Give me a quarter of an hour before you join me.’

  ‘Yes. As you wish.’

  They exchanged a brief, embarrassed smile, then Kitty turned and hurried from the room, leaving Arthur alone in the warm glow of the dying fire. He stared at the embers, wondering at the perverse combination of honour and indolence had led him into this predicament.There had been chances to avoid it. He could have ignored Olivia Sparrow’s entreaties to renew the correspondence. He could have taken up Kitty’s offer to meet her before committing himself to marriage. He could even have walked out of the ceremony. But the more he considered these things the more clearly he saw that he was a man driven by a sense of duty. Duty in all things. He could no more have abandoned his obligations to Kitty than he could abandon his obligations to King and country. Once set on a path he would travel it all the way to the end and apply himself to overcoming every obstacle set before him.

  With a sigh he drew out his pocket watch and marked that nearly half an hour had elapsed since Kitty had gone to bed. He put the watch away, drained the last dregs of his ale and rose from the table. Outside, he passed the landlord as the latter wiped down his counter.

  ‘Good night, sir.’ The landlord smiled knowingly. ‘I hope you and your bride will be comfortable.’

  Arthur felt something give way inside and felt the urge to snap at the landlord and tell him to mind his own damned business. But just as quickly as the urge arose, he mastered it and suppressed his anger.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said coolly. ‘I am sure we will. Good night.’

  There was a narrow flight of stairs to the few rooms the inn provided as guest accommodation and Arthur paused as he stood outside the door of the room he had rented. He looked at the brass handle gleaming dully in the light of the candle flickering in a wall bracket. Then, stiffening his resolve, he entered the room. It was a modest size with clean plaster walls. A large bed rested against the far wall, and a candle burned in a holder on the small table to one side. Under the thick bedcovers he could make out the slender shape of Kitty, lying quite still. Her nightcap covered her hair and only a small expanse of her face was visible above the covers.

  ‘Won’t be a moment, my dear,’ said Arthur as he crossed to his travelling chest. He undressed unhurriedly, slipped on his nightshirt and turned towards the bed. Kitty did not seemed to have moved, and she made no sound.The only noise in the room was the faint rustle of the branches of a chestnut tree just outside the window. Arthur slipped under the covers and lay facing his wife. She had her back to him and for a moment Arthur wondered if she might be asleep, and he did not move.Then the covers stirred and her hand reached back towards him, groping across the sheet for his hand. Finding his fingers, she interlaced her own and gave a gentle squeeze.

  ‘Are you ready, my love?’ he whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ came the reply, soft as a light breeze.

  Arthur edged closer and drew Kitty over so that she lay on her back. Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him, terrified by this new intimacy. Arthur leaned over her and kissed her on the lips, feeling hers tremble. He kissed her again, and let his fingers caress her neck, down to the breast of her nightshirt. As the tips brushed her nipple Kitty gave a small cry and Arthur felt a sudden hot stirring in his loins. His hand continued to move over her stomach, and then he began to draw the material of her nightdress up until he could feel the smooth bare flesh. His hand paused a moment before tracing its way down to the soft tuft of hair. Kitty gasped.

  ‘Are you all right, my love?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, yes.’ Her eyes were tightly shut. ‘Arthur, my dear, please . . . please don’t hurt me. Please be gentle with me.’

  ‘I will.’

  He was now fully aroused and he gently eased her legs apart and climbed over her. Kitty’s sex was dry and unyielding as he pressed the tip of his penis against her.There was resistance for a moment, and then he entered her. She cried out in surprise and a little pain and her hands grasped his shoulders tightly. Arthur thrust home, again and again, working his way up to a quick, joyless climax, and as soon as it was over he rolled to one side and lay gazing at the ceiling as his heart pounded passionlessly. Kitty lay still for a moment, and then began to cry silently, though he could feel the little judders through the mattress.

  For a moment he thought about trying to comfort her, but no words came, and he turned away and blew out the candle on his side of the bed and lay in the dark, not sleeping and filled with a deadening sense of despair.

  Chapter 19

  The honeymoon was over in less than a week and when the newly married couple returned to Dublin Arthur was riding on top of the carriage with the driver, while Kitty sat alone in the cab. Gerald immediately offered to accommodate his brother and his bride. The following morning Arthur booked passage on a ship leaving for Bristol the same afternoon, and then made arragements for Gerald to escort his wife from Dublin once she had settled her affairs in Ireland. With his travelling chest packed Arthur sent for a cab and made ready to leave. Gerald and Kitty were sitting in the front parlour when Arthur joined them, his coat and gloves already on.

  ‘My goodness,’ said Gerald. ‘You don’t waste any time!’

  ‘Alas, I have none to waste,’ Arthur replied briskly. ‘Duty calls me back to London. I have to support Richard in Parliament, and there is a brigade to command. Not only that,’ he turned to Kitty and forced a smile, ‘I have to find a home worthy of my bride.’

  Kitty smiled back and it pained him to see how easily she could be pleased. As easily as she could be hurt, he realised. Arthur felt shamed by his duplicity. In truth he was burdened by the dreadful knowledge that he had made the mistake of his life in marrying Kitty. That had become clear enough in the long days of the honeymoon as they travelled in frequent silence, the gulf between them merely becoming even more starkly apparent when they did start to talk. While Arthur had voyaged to India, fought battles, commanded armies and become the ruler of the kingdom of Mysore in all but title, it was as if Kitty had sat on the shelf gathering dust. Conversation was awkward. There was much he wanted to tell her, to discuss. Yet Kitty’s world had been utterly different from his own these eleven years and they struggled to find common ground on many issues. Their talk was stumbling and broken and the silences filled with self-consciousness. The only comfort was that their lovemaking at least had improved as Kitty’s initial apprehension about the act dissolved. Even so, after five days Arthur found her company stifling and was desperate to return to London, where he could busy himself and not dwell on the mistake he had made.

  ‘When are you going?’ she asked.

  ‘As soon as the footman finds a cab.’

  Kitty’s expression crumpled momentarily, then she s
wallowed and recovered her composure. ‘I will come to the dock with you.’

  ‘There’s really no need. It’s cold out and, in any case, the cab won’t afford you much space.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I wish to come with you and say goodbye.’

  Arthur was silent for a moment, and then nodded. ‘Oh, very well, then.’

  By the time Kitty had got her coat, bonnet and gloves the cab had arrived.The driver loaded Arthur’s chest on to the rack on the roof and then held the door open. Arthur shook hands with Gerald and hurried down the steps. He turned and saw Kitty standing in the hall adjusting her bonnet, and his foot tapped impatiently as he waited. Having satisfied herself about her appearance, Kitty emerged and exchanged a chaste kiss with Gerald before stepping lightly down the steps and into the street. Arthur handed Kitty up into the cab and quickly climbed in after her, squeezing on to the seat beside his wife. An instant later the cab lurched into motion and turned out of the street and down towards the forest of masts and furled sails of the ships thronging the Liffey.

  They did not speak for a while, and then Kitty asked,‘Will you look for a house immediately, Arthur?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Good. I could not bear to be apart from you a day longer than necessary.’

  ‘I know, my dear. It is the same for me. But we must be patient so that I can find something suitable.’

  ‘I understand. But really, Arthur, there’s no need for me to wait here in Dublin while you hunt for a house. I am sure that I could live with Olivia Sparrow in the meantime. And if I was there in London, I could help you look for a house.’ She glanced at him and smiled weakly. ‘Would that be entertaining?’

  Arthur nodded. ‘I imagine so.’

  ‘Then I will make arrangements with Olivia to join you there as soon as possible.’ Kitty took his hand tentatively and gave it a squeeze. ‘I will be a good wife to you, I swear it.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Arthur. ‘And I will be a good husband, as far as my duties permit.’

  The cab rattled out of a side street and on to the broader thoroughfare that ran alongside the wharves. Moored ships clustered as far as the eye could see and the driver flipped down a small hatch and called through. ‘Which vessel, sir?’

  ‘The Ardent, about two hundred yards further on.’

  The hatch clacked shut as the driver slowed his horse and began to look for the names of each vessel as they passed.A short distance further on he drew up and stopped. Opening the door, he indicated a sturdy-looking merchant vessel moored a few paces away.

  ‘Here you are, sir.’

  Arthur climbed out and offered his hand to Kitty as she stepped down on to the cobbles. Her nose wrinkled at the smell: salt, fish and tarred cordage.

  ‘Wait here,’ Arthur told the driver. ‘The lady will be taken back to my brother’s house shortly.’

  ‘As you like, sir.’

  Arthur summoned a porter to carry his chest aboard and then walked with Kitty to the end of the gangway. ‘Well, here we are, my dear. Now we must say our farewells. Just for the present,’ he added quickly.

  Kitty stared at him with wide eyes and her lips trembled as she responded. ‘Can I not stay and see the ship off ?’

  ‘There’s really no point. She won’t be leaving Dublin for some hours yet. Best if you didn’t, Kitty.You’ll only get cold and might catch a chill. Come, be brave. Give me a kiss and hold me.’

  He opened his arms and Kitty stepped into his embrace, pressing her face against his chest so that he would not see her tears, but he could feel her thin frame shudder all the same. At length she drew back slightly, dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief, which she hurriedly stuffed down her sleeve. Arthur cupped her cheek in his hand and tilted her face towards him and kissed her on the lips. It was not a passionate kiss, merely perfunctory, and he drew his head back quickly and smiled.

  ‘There! Now you must get back into the cab and go, Kitty.’

  ‘I don’t want to go just yet. Please don’t make me.’

  Arthur looked at her in silence. Inside he was struggling to contain a growing sense of irritation. At the same time he did not want to hurt her and the tension between the two impulses only made the situation even more intolerable. He took her hand and guided her gently but firmly back towards the cab, where she climbed in and took her seat with a show of reluctance. Arthur closed the door on her and stepped back.

  ‘Goodbye, Kitty. I will see you in London, my love.’

  ‘Goodbye, dear Arthur.’ She raised a hand and waved it weakly.

  Before she could speak again Arthur nodded to the driver. ‘Take her straight back to my brother’s house.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  At a crack of his whip the horse broke into a trot and the cab began to move away. Kitty’s face appeared at the window and she waved her hand as the cab drew off. Once she was no longer visible Arthur drew a deep breath and puffed his cheeks in relief, but he had the good grace to wait until the cab turned up a street and disappeared, with one last frantic wave from the occupant, before he turned to climb the gangway on to the deck of the Ardent. A fresh breeze was blowing up the river Liffey and Arthur paused to fill his lungs and relish the sense of freedom.

  Five days later he was back in London. Arthur quickly hired some rooms for himself and arranged to meet his brothers to discuss their strategy for dealing with the accusations being made against Richard, and by extension the rest of the family. Richard was still claiming to be ill, but his scandalous disregard for the opinion of his social peers meant that he openly consorted with courtesans, with little regard for the effect this had on his wife, Hyacinthe, and their children: a state of affairs that was prejudicing more and more of the non-committed amongst the members of Parliament, not to mention provoking the wrath of those who owned the newspapers that seemed to fill every coffee shop and club in the city. But try as he might Arthur could not shift his brother from his course and matters came to a head one Sunday towards the end of April when Arthur paid a visit to Richard’s home in Chelsea.

  The servant showed him into the drawing room, and Arthur picked his way over the toys and dolls that lay scattered about the floor. He took a seat by the window that overlooked the street and waited. After quarter of an hour had passed the door clicked open and Richard entered. He had not shaved for some days and his thin jaw was dark with stubble. His hair was roughly tied back with a ribbon and he wore a silk gown of the type favoured by Indian nabobs. He greeted his guest with a tired smile and stepped over the obstacles to join him at the window.

  ‘You look terrible,’ Arthur began.

  ‘I thank you. So kind of you to say so. How is married life, brother? Not that you can have enjoyed much of it as yet. I heard from William that you left Kitty in Dublin when you returned.’

  ‘She will be joining me soon enough.’

  Richard looked at him with a sharp expression.‘Too soon, from your tone.’

  ‘I’m here to discuss your problems.’

  ‘Rather than your own?’ Richard sat back in his chair and winced. ‘Ahhh. Sorry, too much drink last night. I can’t cope with the consequences as well as I used to. Anyway, you mentioned problems.’

  ‘Richard, I have the seat for Rye, as you know, and will be taking my place in Parliament tomorrow. Naturally I will speak up for you.’ Arthur paused to ensure his next point was given its full impact. ‘The thing is, Richard, that your behaviour is not helping our cause.’

  ‘My behaviour?’

  ‘This flagrant cavorting around the capital with your latest mistress on your arm. Have you no sense of decorum?’

  ‘Decorum is for asses and hypocrites,’ Richard sneered. ‘I love the woman, and I don’t care who knows it. We are exceedingly happy together. How many men of our class can say that?’

  ‘That’s all very well, but you cannot ignore the impression it is creating on other people. They regard it as a scandal, Richard. And as long as they do, there is no hope of y
our achieving the high office you deserve, and no hope of Britain’s benefiting from your talents.’

  Richard chuckled. ‘Quite the patriot, aren’t you, brother? Perhaps I am not quite so public-spirited as you think.’

  ‘I know you, Richard. I know that you gave several years of your life to promoting the fortunes of our country in India.And I know that you feel aggrieved over the scant recognition of your achievements that has been accorded to you by the people here in Britain. It is most unjust, I grant you that. But squatting here in your self-pity and indulging yourself in outraging public morals is a self-defeating form of revenge, I’d say. Richard, you cannot continue like this, for all our sakes.’

  Arthur fell silent and stared at his brother earnestly for any sign that his words had had their intended effect. Richard sighed and stared out of the window. At length he shrugged, then coughed to clear his throat and winced at a sudden pain in his head.