The King, dressed in a plain plum-coloured coat and breeches, moved around the room counter-clockwise. He seemed in a hurry to get away. He spoke to everybody as he always did, but his questions were as brief as possible within the boundaries of politeness. It did not take him long to come level with John and Mary. Through a whistling in her ears Mary heard Lord Hertford, the Lord Chamberlain, intone, ‘The Earl and Countess of Chatham.’
Across the room, Mary saw her parents beaming at her, Georgiana and Harriot close behind. Beside her John bent effortlessly into a bow, his left foot sliding forwards. Mary tried to ignore the sweat beading her forehead and sank into a deep curtsey.
The King had hardly stopped long enough to allow anyone time to kiss his hand, but now he halted. Instantly a hundred or so necks craned to see what was going on.
‘Lord Chatham,’ the King said. ‘This must be your new Countess.’ Beneath her gown, Mary’s knees trembled. She hoped her ostrich feathers were not bobbing up and down to reflect it. She felt the King’s hand under her chin, gently bringing her face up. She fought the urge to meet his protuberant blue eyes; it did not do to look at the King. ‘I well remember your presentation as Miss Mary Townshend. You were not quite 17, I believe, and one of the prettiest young women at the drawing room. I’d say that was still the case, eh, Lord Chatham?’
‘I most heartily agree, Your Majesty,’ John said, and flashed Mary a swift smile. Mary returned it shyly. From the corner of her eyes she saw the King’s lips twitch. He helped her out of her curtsey and she stifled a gasp of relief. Her hip was none too steady, but her ordeal was nearly over.
‘You are lucky, Lady Chatham, to join such a celebrated family,’ the King said. Mary wobbled back into a curtsey, and was about to rise out of it when she realised the King had not moved on. ‘Lord Chatham.’ He nodded at John, who bowed again after a momentary hesitation. ‘Mr Pitt.’ William bowed too, even though the Lord Chamberlain had not yet announced him. ‘It is a pleasure to see two of my most faithful subjects here today.’
Until recently the King had always shown a marked frostiness when dealing with the sons of the hated Chatham. William, however, seemed to have expected no less. He said, ‘Your Majesty knows my brother and I are ever his humble servants.’
John’s head turned towards William a fraction. Despite court etiquette a low murmur arose from all corners of the room. Mary wondered how many here were now concluding that they should pay court to this young man who had only just turned 24, rather than His Majesty’s present ministers.
Nor was the King yet finished. ‘I trust, Mr Pitt, you recall how your father devoted the best years of his life to the struggle against political faction.’
Mary saw her brother-in-law’s eyes flicker to resist returning the King’s searching gaze. ‘I will do my duty, sir.’
The King resumed his hasty circuit of the room. He did not speak to anyone else nearly as much as he had done to the Pitts; he barely spoke to Lord and Lady Sydney, even though he had made such a point of distinguishing their daughter. Less than half an hour later the King left, and the chamber burst into excited chatter.
Lord and Lady Sydney came over. Sydney’s face was a picture of curiosity. ‘Now what was all that about?’
‘His Majesty was just being polite, I suppose,’ William said.
‘More polite than he’s ever been to us before.’ John looked like he wanted to say more, but Sydney forestalled him, placing his hands on Mary’s shoulders.
‘Now let us return to Albemarle Street. We have a court presentation to celebrate.’
Mary smiled at her father then looked back at her husband. John did not seem to be thinking about the King’s behaviour towards William any more, but she suspected he had not forgotten about it any more than she had.
October 1783
John dismounted just as dusk was falling. One of his servants was outside lighting the lamps; the four windows on the first floor blazed with light. His was the only house in the square that had any sign of life. The meeting of Parliament was still a month away, and Berkeley Square’s aristocratic residents would remain in the country as long as possible.
Mary had tried to dissuade John from going to town, of course. She had clung to his reins and kept him riding out of Hayes stables. ‘Send Wood to run your errands, and stay here, with me.’
‘Wood is a fine servant, but he is only barely literate. I hope to put Hayes on the market in the new year, and Mr Johnson wishes to show me the latest valuations.’
‘Must you go?’ Mary insisted, and John grinned.
‘Are you nervous about running Hayes by yourself for the first time?’
‘No,’ Mary said, so promptly he knew he was right. He laughed and her scowl transformed reluctantly into a smile. ‘I do not enjoy being apart from you. My place is by your side.’
He leaned over further and she stood on tiptoe so he could kiss her. ‘I promise I will return as soon as my business is finished.’
So here he was, stepping up from the street into his London house, still musty and cold despite the efforts of his household to make it presentable. Mary was only a dozen miles away but she might as well have been in a different country. John stripped off his gloves and stood in front of the library fire. He felt cold, and not just because of the autumn chill. Only Mary’s embrace could warm him.
He slept restlessly in the camp bed that had been set up for him, because the great four-posters were still dismantled for cleaning. Halfway through a breakfast of coffee and toast he was interrupted by the sound of the bell. One of the footmen entered the breakfast room. ‘My lord, Mr Dundas has arrived for Mr Pitt. Shall I inform him Mr Pitt is not here?’
John laid his toast on the side of his plate. ‘Mr Dundas?’ John vaguely knew Dundas as a middle-aged, hard-drinking Scotsman with an uncouth tongue, but he was not well acquainted with the men who had long followed Lord North. ‘But my brother is in France.’
‘Shall I send Mr Dundas away, sir?’
‘No, send him up. I am curious to find out why he is here.’
John was still wiping away the crumbs from breakfast when he came into the drawing room a few minutes later and found Dundas waiting. The erstwhile Lord Advocate and Treasurer of the Navy looked astonished to see John, as though it were a wonder for a man to live in his own house. John could tell he was not the man Dundas had hoped to see, nor was he to be trusted. He set his lips. The sentiment was mutual.
‘Mr Dundas,’ he said. ‘An unexpected pleasure.’
‘Many thanks for coming to me,’ Dundas said with a bow, in the thick accent John remembered hearing at Lord Shelburne’s meetings or at Westminster. ‘Your Lordship must be aware, however, that I am here for Mr Pitt. I saw lights in this house last night.’
John kept his voice cold and neutral. ‘My brother is in France, and has been since the middle of September, but any message you may have for him may, I assure you, be left with me.’
‘With respect, my lord, what I have to say to him is in confidence. I expect him to return any day.’
‘I am afraid I must disabuse you. Mr Pitt is not expected home till the beginning of November. You are at least ten days too soon.’
‘Nevertheless, I have received word—’ Dundas began, but John interrupted.
‘What gives you the right to suppose Mr Pitt would prefer communicating with men of your stamp to his own brother?’ Dundas said nothing, but raised his eyebrows. John gazed at him in dislike. He remembered William once referring to Dundas as a ‘notorious turncoat’, and certainly Dundas’s political record – serving seamlessly under North, Rockingham and Shelburne, clinging to his place until finally dislodged by the Coalition – was hardly one to admire. ‘I am certain Mr Pitt will inform you of his return, when he returns. In the meantime, good day.’
John did not have time to think again of Dundas’s visit, or its significance, until he returned to Berkeley Square after four. He was so preoccupied with wondering whether he still stood a ch
ance of riding back to Hayes and Mary before nightfall that he did not at first see the trunks and boxes stacked in the stairwell. Only when he heard a familiar voice coming from the parlour did he realise he was no longer alone.
John pushed the parlour door open. William, still wearing his travelling cloak, was giving instructions to the steward. At the sound of John’s approach, he turned and beamed. ‘John! I must admit I was not expecting to find you in residence already.’
‘I was not expecting to see you here for some days either.’ All the suspicions of his morning’s meeting with Dundas rushed back in on John at once. He did not like the feeling that his own home was becoming the headquarters of secret political intrigue. He clutched the latch and forced a smile. ‘Welcome back to England, William. You’ve been much in demand.’
Chapter Seven
November 1783
‘This had better be good, Chatham.’ The Duke of Rutland wore an extravagantly embroidered velvet coat and an anxious expression under his blue-powdered wig. ‘I wasn’t planning to leave Belvoir for another week, but your brother positively insisted I come up now. Has he received another offer to form a government?’
John was glad to hear his own suspicions voiced aloud by another. He clasped Rutland by the hand. ‘That is possible, although I fail to see why circumstances are more propitious now than they were in February. But I daresay William intends to enlighten us tonight – at least,’ he added grimly, ‘I certainly hope so.’
Mary had discreetly disappeared to visit her parents at Albemarle Street, and Berkeley Square was overrun with William’s young friends. Apart from Rutland, Lord Mahon and Eliot, who were virtually family, John knew very few of them, at least until the ringing of the bell preceded the arrival of John’s cousins Lord Temple and his brother William Grenville.
George Grenville, Earl Temple since the death of his uncle Richard four years previously, had all the hallmarks of the Grenville line – the up-tilted nose, the dimpled chin, and the heavy-lidded eyes – but already at 30 he was unattractively plump, and his manner was abrasive. He ignored John completely and strode up to William. ‘I apologise for the delay, cousin, but I have just come from Lord Thurlow. Am I late?’
‘Not at all,’ William said. ‘You are most timely.’
Temple nodded and sat down. William Grenville looked abashed at his brother’s rudeness. He was about William’s age, short and plump with an overlarge head, but his large brown eyes were full of intelligence and he gave John an apologetic smile to show he at least knew who was master of the house. ‘Lord Chatham.’
John smiled back, but tensely. He was wondering why the two men were here, for they had never been especially close to their Pitt cousins.
It was as though Temple’s arrival was a signal William had been awaiting. He rose and rapped at the table with a spoon. ‘Gentlemen …’ his voice, so accustomed to filling the chamber of the House of Commons, echoed effortlessly round the dining room, ‘… I am sorry I have had to curtail your holidays, but I have something very important, and very particular, to tell you.’ He held each man’s gaze in turn. ‘Mr Fox has offered me a Cabinet post.’
That was the last thing John had been expecting, and he saw his astonishment reflected in nearly every face around him. He said, ‘Fox has offered you office? Did you accept?’
Temple gave a harsh burst of laughter. William gave his cousin a quelling look. ‘No. I will never serve in government with Lord North. Fox and I might, once, have worked together, but by his alliance with North he has rendered a junction impossible.’
‘Then why offer?’ Dudley Ryder asked. ‘Fox must have known you would refuse.’
‘Why does any man seek to make coalitions? Because Fox is desperate. He knows his government will need an accession of strength to survive the new parliamentary season. He intends to introduce a bill to reform the governance of India – a bill that may well bring down the Coalition.’
All around the table William’s guests exchanged glances. John threw a knowing look across the table at Rutland, who arched his eyebrows. It was Rutland who said, ‘How can you be certain the bill will provide a weapon against government? We do not even know the terms of it yet, and Fox and North are not secure enough in the King’s good graces to risk controversy.’
‘Do you not see, Your Grace?’ Temple rose from his chair. ‘It is precisely because Fox does not enjoy the King’s confidence that he has been so secretive with this Bill. Mr Fox knows it has the power to destroy him.’
‘If Fox succeeds he will guarantee the continuance of his ministry for years to come,’ William agreed grimly. ‘He proposes to set up an India Board consisting of 16 commissioners. Seven will be nominated by the government for a term of four years.’ John was struck dumb by the audacity of the suggestion that the government might appropriate the King’s prerogative to nominate his own servants. ‘I am told Portland will nominate Fox’s cousin Colonel Fitzpatrick and Lord North’s own son, amongst other loyal adherents.’
‘Needless to say,’ Temple observed, ‘His Majesty is not best pleased.’
‘How do you know all this, if the government has been so secretive?’ Rutland asked. ‘Surely Fox did not tell you?’
‘No, he did not,’ William admitted. ‘But at the same time that Mr Fox came to me, Lord North tried to recruit Lord Thurlow’s support, and told him all.’ He gave a thin smile. ‘Unfortunately for North, Lord Thurlow had already approached me on the King’s behalf.’
A murmur of astonishment filled the room. So William had received another offer of the Treasury after all. John had half-expected it ever since William had begun consorting with notorious court men like Dundas, but he was surprised at the strength of his own dismay. Nine months ago, William had been offered the premiership after the government’s collapse. Now, Fox and North would have to be forced from office to provide an opening for a new ministry. John looked at his brother’s flushed, eager face and wondered whether William saw the difference between the two situations as well as he did.
‘Lord Thurlow is very much the King’s man,’ Temple said, ‘but rest assured Mr Pitt and I have weighed that fact carefully against the desirability of forming a viable ministry. Should the India Bill be rejected by Parliament, government must necessarily fall; and with the Crown active on our behalf the Coalition will soon be broken.’
John felt his uneasiness deepen with every word Temple said. His voice sounded unnaturally loud in the silence. ‘What if the bill is not rejected?’
‘We must ensure that does not happen,’ Temple said, his words chilling in their simplicity.
The meeting broke up with Temple’s promise that he would transmit new information at the first opportunity. John and William found themselves alone. Through the large windows overlooking the square the night was black, as silent and mysterious as the plot to which John was now party. William kicked back his chair and nursed a glass of port. John wondered how William could look so relaxed after that night’s revelations, then remembered his brother had already had several months to get used to it.
William set down his glass, his eyes bright. ‘Well, John, I told you in February it would not be long before I returned to Downing Street.’
‘Have I been such a poor host that you are in such haste to leave?’ John said. William’s expression wavered, but his triumphant smile remained.
‘You must remember trying to persuade me to take office nine months ago. I did not take your advice then, for the time was not ripe, but now …’
‘Now it is?’ John’s shock and betrayal nearly choked him. He jabbed at the fire with the poker. ‘In case you had not noticed, Will, the India Bill has not yet even been proposed in Parliament, let alone defeated. What will you do if it passes? What then?’
‘Once the King makes his opposition known, the bill must fail.’
‘The King cannot oppose a government measure,’ John said. ‘To do so would be unconstitutional.’
‘By forcing themselves on
the King after Lord Shelburne fell, the Coalition have altered the rules. What might be termed “unconstitutional” in other circumstances cannot be deemed such now.’
‘So one unconstitutional act excuses another?’ John could barely believe what he was hearing. He threw the poker into the basket so hard a cloud of coal dust fell onto the carpet. ‘You mentioned Lord Shelburne. What does he have to say about the King’s offer?’
‘Lord Shelburne?’ William repeated, stunned, as though John had suggested the Emperor of China might have an opinion.
‘Yes, Lord Shelburne. Shelburne, who brought you into his Cabinet. Shelburne, who suggested you as First Lord of the Treasury in February. Shelburne, who adheres to Papa’s political principles.’ William said nothing, but folded his long legs under his chair and sat forwards. ‘You have not spoken with him, have you?’
‘I told you in February I disliked his influence,’ William said curtly.
‘At least in February you would have headed a government of Papa’s friends. What do you think Papa would say, to see you sell yourself to the Crown now, all for the opportunity of heading a ministry independent of Lord Shelburne?’
‘You have no right to tell me what I can and cannot do,’ William bristled, and John felt the fury he had been trying to keep under control rushing over him like a wave.
‘You are wrong. How you choose to destroy yourself is none of my business, but it is not merely yourself you will destroy. You will drag our family’s name – Papa’s name – through the mire. You may be the statesman, William, but I am the head of the family. It is my duty to inform you that you have gone too far. It is yours to listen.’
‘I wish to make the name William Pitt great again,’ William said, his voice dangerously quiet. ‘You cannot resent me for that.’
Earl of Shadows: A moving historical novel about two brothers in 18th century England Page 9