Earl of Shadows

by Jacqueline Reiter

  ‘John—’ William began, but John raised his hands and turned away.

  ‘No, Will. You have nothing further to say that I wish to hear.’

  ****

  Contrary to William’s optimism the India Bill did not fail immediately, but passed all three Commons readings with large majorities. Aware of the strong opposition at court, Fox was driving his measure through Parliament faster than was usual.

  ‘Now what?’ Lord Mahon asked at one of the meetings William now held regularly at Berkeley Square. ‘We cannot allow the India Bill to pass the House of Lords.’

  John crossed his arms and waited for William’s response, knowing all along what it would be and dreading it. At the head of the table William glanced at Lord Temple, who turned to Lord Thurlow. North’s former Lord Chancellor replied, his eyes hard beneath the dark eyebrows that gave him his famed saturnine appearance. ‘Lord Mahon is right. Should the bill become law, even the King will become powerless to choose his own ministers. Such a state of affairs is unconstitutional; in my opinion, strong measures are justified to ensure it does not come about.’

  ‘Everyone knows His Majesty is opposed to a measure that was not explained to him adequately before being brought before Parliament,’ Temple said, ‘but he cannot be seen openly to frustrate his own ministers. Lord Thurlow and I have written to the King and informed him of the need to ensure that the Lords reject the bill. He has given us permission to use his name in … persuading their Lordships to cast their votes in the desired direction.’

  ‘I’m not sure I like what I hear,’ Rutland grumbled to the lacquered lid of his snuffbox. Thurlow glared at him.

  ‘We have the King’s approval, Your Grace, and that is all that matters.’

  John could stand it no longer. He knew his exit would be remarked upon, but he wanted to get as far away from this grubbiness as possible. He pushed his chair back hard and strode out.

  Mary was in the drawing room, writing letters, while Georgiana embroidered by the fire. Both looked up when John came in. The cold and damp of winter was never friendly to Mary, and she limped perceptibly as she crossed the room to take her husband’s hands. ‘What is the matter?’

  ‘I’m sending you to Frognal to stay with your mother,’ John snapped. Mary blanched.

  ‘To Frognal? But my place is here, with you.’

  ‘If you refuse I will send you all the way to Somerset to stay with my mother.’ She stared at him, and he saw she did not know whether to test his threat or submit to it. His heart wrenched; he had never intended to take out his frustration on her. He took her in his arms. Mary’s body was rigid with injured dignity, but she embraced him back.

  ‘I am not leaving,’ she muttered into his shoulder. ‘Nor can you make me.’

  ‘I cannot but be involved in any stupidities my brother may henceforth commit; but I want you to have no part in it.’

  ‘I am your wife, John.’ She looked up at him, her eyes bright with sincerity. ‘I cannot help having a part in your life, even if you send me away.’

  Warmth swept through his heart, chipping away at the bitterness. He knew he would never be able to send her away, even if she agreed to it. Her fingers pressed into his shoulders as though to anchor herself to him, and he pulled her closer. He needed her, now more than ever. She was a fixed point in a world that was steadily becoming more and more unbalanced. ‘I only wish William had trusted me enough to tell me what he was doing.’

  ‘He knew you would try to stop him,’ Mary said, simply.

  ‘And so I would.’ John’s anger returned; he drew a long, uneven breath. ‘He will make himself a laughing stock… and us with him.’

  ****

  With Temple and Thurlow so active in spreading the word of the King’s opposition to his own ministry, the India Bill could not but fail. It did so in a crowded House of Lords on 17 December by 19 votes.

  Just over 24 hours later, the household at Berkeley Square was roused long before dawn by a loud banging on the front door. John emerged from his room to see cousin Temple skipping up the stairs two at a time, hooded eyes darting left and right. ‘Where’s Pitt?’

  John pulled his bed-gown about him and stifled a yawn. ‘Sleeping.’ He added, reproachfully, ‘As was I.’

  ‘Well then, wake him. I come on important business from the King.’

  William was a deep sleeper and it took his servant several attempts to wake him. When he finally entered the library he was still bleary-eyed. Temple took one look at him in his cap and gown and snapped, ‘Get dressed. We’re going to the Queen’s House. It’s done.’

  William’s eyes widened. ‘So soon? How—?’

  ‘Never mind how,’ Temple interrupted. ‘Fox and North have been required to turn in their seals tonight. By morning the ministry will be no more.’ He grasped William’s arm and guided him out. As they passed John Temple said, ‘Go back to bed, Chatham. This is none of your concern.’

  Going to bed was the last thing John wanted to do. He shaved and dressed and waited for his brother to return. It was nearly the shortest day of the year and dawn had not yet broken when William reappeared, dressed in court wear, a powdered wig on his head and ceremonial sword at his side. His manner held a gravitas that had not been there when he had left. Perhaps William had simply woken up; perhaps it was something more, a reflection of the importance of the position he now held.

  ‘I take it I am addressing His Majesty’s new First Lord of the Treasury?’ John said, stepping into William’s line of sight at the stair-head. William smiled, but nervously, as though not sure how John would react.

  ‘And Chancellor of the Exchequer.’

  So, it was done. Whatever happened now, William was minister. His friends and family were bound up in the fate of a 24-year-old boy’s government. The prospect made John feel dizzy, a little sick, and totally powerless.

  Chapter Eight

  December 1783

  John caught sight of the three other carriages as his own drew up alongside his house in Berkeley Square. A choking, icy fog had prevented seeing them sooner. One belonged to Earl Camden, one to Earl Gower, and one to the Duke of Richmond, and they spoke eloquently of the inter-party alliances John’s brother was trying to cobble together. Camden’s credentials as a follower of the first Earl of Chatham were well established, but Gower had served under Lord North and Richmond was Fox’s uncle.

  Not that William had much choice but to rely on such a motley. His appointment to the premiership had been received by the Commons with a shout of laughter. An attempt to block an adjournment till the following Monday was rejected without a division, Fox and North’s huge majority carrying all before them. Over the next three days 55 office-holders resigned at all levels of administration. A clearer statement of no confidence in the new premier could not have been made; and even existing supporters were proving unreliable. Only the previous day Lord Temple, one of the four lone members of the new Cabinet, had resigned, throwing all into chaos.

  As he stepped down onto the pavement John caught sight of a group standing by a street lamp, rubbing their gloved hands, stamping their feet and pulling their coats closer against the fog. They peered at him keenly as he strode towards his front door. ‘Is that him?’

  ‘Could be. His coach has the family crest.’

  ‘That’s an earl’s coronet. Young Pitt’s taller, and his hair’s lighter.’

  ‘Just the brother then.’ They turned away to peer into the fog in case anyone more interesting appeared.

  Newspaper hacks, flocking to the headquarters of the flagging ministry like jackals attracted by the scent of blood. John set his lips, swept past them and entered the house.

  John knew William would expect him to attend the meeting, but he wanted to steady himself before doing so and in any case had a letter to write before the post went out. He went up to his study and drew some paper towards him. His mother would want to know he was keeping his February promise. No doubt she had guessed from his recent
, stilted letters that his heart was not entirely in it.

  ‘My dear Mother, you will have so far seen by my last letter that my mind was not perfectly at ease on the subject of my brother, and that my congratulations on the situation he had reached were not written with the exultation you might have had cause to expect. I had but too much reason for it, as was confirmed by Lord Temple’s finding it necessary to resign his seals. My brother felt he was obliged to go through with it and has remained.’

  He ran the shaft of his pen against his lip and finished grimly:

  ‘In what hopes of success we stand I know not, but as we now stand on the most unquestionable ground, whether we go on or are beat, we can risk no loss of character in making a stand for King and Constitution.’

  Once he had finished John made his way reluctantly downstairs to the library. William sat at a large table. The youthful First Lord of the Treasury was dressed in a blue suit with only a tuft of lace at his throat and wrists to contrast with the darkness. His hair had been dressed and powdered and he held himself straight and proud, but he still looked like the 24-year-old boy he was.

  William’s eyes flicked briefly towards his brother and John knew his tardy entrance had been noticed by the strain in his brother’s voice. ‘As I was saying, the situation of the ministry following the resignation of Lord Temple is grave. His Lordship held the seals of office as Secretary of State for both departments, which makes his loss the more regrettable.’

  ‘Do we yet know why his Lordship resigned?’ William’s friend Tom Steele asked. The awkwardness in the room intensified immediately. Even Steele, not the most politically astute of men, seemed to realise he had blundered. ‘I merely wondered … his actions are, after all, open to the strangest interpretations.’

  It was not William who replied but Temple’s brother Will Grenville, his soft, quiet voice cutting easily through the thick silence. ‘My brother recognises the difficulty in which the government is placed by his resignation, but his role in unseating the Coalition has rendered him notorious. He feels he can be of more use to Mr Pitt out of office than in.’

  John caught the tail-end of Lord Thurlow’s smirk. William nodded at Grenville as though to thank him for addressing a troublesome issue. ‘Indeed, it was most noble of His Lordship to sacrifice himself for the sake of the government. In any case our situation is by no means desperate. My Lord Thurlow remains Lord Chancellor, and Lord Gower President of the Council. The Duke of Rutland has accepted the Privy Seal.’ From the glazed look in Rutland’s eyes John guessed the new Lord Privy Seal had been celebrating his appointment, or drowning his sorrows, all evening. ‘My Lords Camden and Sydney, and His Grace of Richmond, are to join us in the new year; and Lord Carmarthen has agreed to take the seals of the Foreign Department.’

  The fact that William had filled many of his Cabinet posts was good news, but John did not think the news was as good as William made it sound. Sydney was bound to William by ancient political loyalty, as was Camden, an old friend of the first Lord Chatham. Richmond was more of a surprise, but he was notoriously prickly.

  William went on, determinedly optimistic. ‘We have also filled several subordinate posts. Mr Dundas is joining us in an official capacity. Mr Steele will partner Mr Rose as Secretary to the Treasury, and Mr Eliot is to join the same department. Mr Arden will be Solicitor General. I have hopes we will be able to make a strong impression in both Houses when Parliament reconvenes in January.’ That was a startling statement given that Fox and North had mustered majorities of over a hundred only a few days previously. William ignored the glances being swapped around the room. ‘We have not yet tried a division in the House of Commons, but Mr Robinson …’ a chilly nod in the direction of North’s former Secretary to the Treasury, who bowed back, ‘… assures me we might acquire a majority of 20 or 30 by the usual means if we dissolve immediately.’

  He did not elaborate on the concept of “usual means”, nor did he need to go into the arsenal of peerages, pensions and bribes the King had at his disposal. Men like Eliot and Wilberforce looked unmoved at the prospect of an election, but those who were more in tune with the way Parliament worked furrowed their brow. Arden spoke for many when he said, ‘Is that truly wise, Pitt? There are certain measures that must be passed in the new year. The Mutiny Act, for example. If that fails, we have no army. And if the Supplies are not voted by March we will have no funds.’

  ‘We may be able to complete the election before then,’ William said, at which Lord Camden spoke up.

  ‘Fox and North will fight the election as hard as they can, and we cannot rely on it taking the usual course. It may be four or five months before all constituencies have cast their votes.’

  ‘Besides, there’s always a chance we’ll lose,’ Steele said glumly.

  ‘But Fox and North might use their majority to block any measures we bring in,’ Wilberforce pointed out. ‘Can we rely on passing the Mutiny Act and the Supplies before an election?’

  ‘They would not dare obstruct the King’s government so blatantly,’ Mahon scoffed, but Camden shook his head.

  ‘The situation is highly irregular.’

  There was a long silence as everyone reflected on the truth of Camden’s words. John glanced up at his brother. William’s muscles were taut, his face glistening with the effort to retain an air of authority. John knew well how swiftly William’s natural optimism could crumble. He felt his heart sink even further, something he had thought impossible.

  The others left shortly afterwards. Each of them shook William’s hand as though bidding farewell to a condemned man on the gallows. The sound of the carriages leaving Berkeley Square one by one cut between the Pitt brothers like the hiss of the wind.

  John yawned ostentatiously, plucked a book off a nearby shelf, and pretended to read. He had stared at the page for hardly a minute before William said, ‘Are you going to cut me out all night?’

  ‘Not at all,’ John replied without looking up. ‘I simply felt the need for a little light reading.’

  ‘Then for God’s sake talk to me. Do not think I did not see you come late to the meeting.’

  John snapped the book shut and looked up haughtily. ‘Are you going to take me to task for it? His Majesty may have chosen you as his minister, but that does not mean I must bow before you as my master. If you must know, I was at Greenland’s. I’m cancelling the sale of Hayes.’

  ‘Cancelling it?’ William said, startled. ‘Why?’

  ‘I haven’t the time to deal with it now.’ John’s gaze hardened. ‘Nor can I imagine any man wishing to purchase an estate so closely connected to a name that causes hilarity whenever it is mentioned.’

  William’s face filled instantly with anger. ‘I told you before: this is my chance to form a ministry that is truly my own.’

  ‘William, you are four and twenty. There is no man alive who believes the King means it to be truly your own.’

  ‘I will make it my own,’ William retorted. ‘I could not do that with Lord Shelburne serving with me.’

  ‘But you can serving with Thurlow and Dundas? They must have their own ambitions for your ministry. Have you thought about that? No, I expect you have, and that is why you have been filling up all the minor posts with your own friends. Eliot at the Treasury Board? Arden Solicitor General? My own father-in-law in the Cabinet? Dear God, it reads like a paean to nepotism. That, or it makes you look desperate.’

  ‘I want a union of parties,’ William said, white with anger. ‘That means not just my father’s friends, but all Whigs united under one banner.’

  ‘Your friends will stand by you, and Camden and Sydney will remember their loyalty to our father, but what is to be made of the rest? Richmond, Gower, Thurlow – impressive names, I grant you, but desperate outcasts all. Can they work with you, let alone with each other?’

  ‘I am ready to work with anyone who will work with me,’ William said and John turned to look him directly in the face.

  ‘And if they
will not? How long before they flee the sinking ship? We’ve already lost Temple, and he was your own cousin!’

  ‘I admit that Lord Temple’s resignation was unexpected—’

  ‘No,’ John stopped him. ‘Unfortunate, yes; ill-timed, absolutely; disastrous, no question; but unexpected – no, no, Will, it was never that. Someone had to pay the price for your foolhardiness, and you should be grateful it wasn’t you – yet.’

  ‘You really believe I have made a mistake, do you not?’ William said at last.

  ‘The biggest of your life,’ John agreed grimly.

  ‘You do not understand.’

  ‘In faith, I do not.’

  ‘Once an election has been held my government will have a majority in the Commons. I will not be captaining a ‘sinking ship’ then.’

  John took a deep breath to steady his nerves. ‘A dissolution will look like cowardice, as though you are trying to get other men to fight your battles. You know as well as I do the real reason Temple resigned is because he agrees with me on this. You must face Fox and show the world you were right to overturn his unconstitutional government. If you dissolve, people will assume you are no better than Temple, Thurlow, Robinson and Dundas – the men you are now associated with.’

  ‘I am First Lord of the Treasury and Chancellor of the Exchequer,’ William said, coldly. ‘I am capable of making my own decisions.’

  John stared at William incredulously, then rose. ‘I can easily believe you have weightier issues to contend with than the loss of my goodwill.’

  ‘For once in your life you are right,’ William said with heavy sarcasm.

  He drew some letters towards him and broke the first seal. John opened his mouth to call William a stubborn fool but shut it again. Trading insults would do no good, and he would do better to dissipate his frustration in a game of billiards at White’s.