Even as Arthur worked conscientiously to improve the lot of the Irish people, his mind was fixed on the political situation on the continent and his desire to serve his country in uniform again. Shortly after his return, news arrived of Bonaparte’s attempt to seize control of the Portuguese navy and every man and woman in Britain had breathed a sigh of relief when they heard of the escape of the Portuguese royal family and their warships, two days before French troops occupied Lisbon.
Kitty cleared her throat and Arthur glanced across the table to see her watching him closely.
‘What is it, my dear?’
‘I was wondering how long you might be spending in London this time.’
‘It is hard to say,’ Arthur replied cautiously. He was conscious that Kitty had still not completely forgiven him for the cavalier way he had joined the expeditionary force setting sail for Denmark. He had given her no warning that he was involved with the planning and preparation for the campaign. ‘But I promise that I shall write to you often and make every effort to return to Dublin as soon as I may.’
‘As long as you promise that, I shall be content, Arthur.’ She was quiet for a moment before she continued. ‘You know that I miss you, and worry for your safety when you are not here.’
‘I realise that, my dear,’ Arthur replied patiently.‘But I am a soldier as well as a civilian official.As a husband and father, it is not always possible to balance the claims of all those duties, and those persons to whom I am obliged to give my attention.’
‘I wish that you would give up soldiering,’ Kitty responded with quiet intensity as she offered her little finger to Charles, who grasped it and squeezed for all he was worth, making his mother smile faintly.‘You have done enough active service for your country already. Surely it is the turn of someone else?’
‘My dear, the long years of campaigning in India are precisely the reason why I am needed in uniform. I have valuable experience of leading men, and indeed entire armies, on campaign, and in battle. My country has profited from what I have learned.Would you deny Britain the benefit of that experience now, when we are almost within the grasp of the Corsican tyrant? Britain needs every soldier that can bear arms.’ He smiled at her. ‘If you must blame anyone for the demands made on me, then let it be Bonaparte.’
‘Wretched man,’ Kitty responded, with feeling. She was quiet a moment, thinking. ‘What drives him to desire power without limit?’
It was an interesting question and Arthur gave it some thought before he attempted to reply. ‘A difficult one to answer.There is a flaw of character in some men, whereby they are never replete with the satisfaction that comes with serving one’s country. Their sense of duty becomes corrupted by ambition to the extent that their only obligation is to themselves and hang the rest of it. I believe that Bonaparte is such a man. But he is also the child of a particular moment in history. Were it not for the revolution in France, I doubt that he would have attained any substantial rank in the French army.’
‘Truly?’ Kitty looked surprised. ‘Surely the man has remarkable talents, otherwise he would never have risen to become Emperor.’
‘Oh, he is remarkable enough,’ Arthur conceded. ‘But if there had been no revolution he would have faced the same restrictions on his advancement as I have in the British army. Indeed, given the obscurity of his social origins, I dare say he would never have been likely to rise above the rank of captain in the army that existed before the revolution. The revolution was the making of Bonaparte, just as it was of many of those who now hold powerful offices in France. It was the revolution that opened the doors of rapid promotion to so many men. It was the revolution that fashioned Bonaparte and fed him the opportunities for advancement that brought him to where he is today, and obliged the rest of us to fight him until the bitter end,’ Arthur added with a mirthless smile.‘I wonder, if our positions had been reversed and I had been born in Corsica, how far I might have risen? Equally, if Bonaparte had been born here in Ireland, to my parents, he would have been fortunate to have attained the posts that I have and be sitting here talking to you, my dear.’
Kitty shuddered. ‘The thought of being married to such a monster makes my blood run cold.’
‘And so it should.’ Arthur was silent a moment before he continued. ‘Though I am not wholly certain whether he is what he is by defect of character, or by transformation afforded him by the revolution. I doubt we shall ever know.What a pity.’
‘As long as he is brought low before too much longer, I don’t care,’ said Kitty. ‘And as long as he is brought low without you or any of my brothers coming to harm I shall be happy. He is an evil man.’
‘Evil?’ Arthur considered the suggestion. ‘I suppose he is . . .Yes, you are right. He is doing evil now. There is no question of it. He has changed the nature of war. There was a time when war had limited aims, when it was the last resort of kings and ministers when all else had failed.The army was the final servant of the nation. Now Bonaparte has made the Grand Army into the master of France and the country exists only to serve its soldiers, and their only purpose is to wage war. And war, to my mind, is the greatest of evils.’ Arthur stared out of the window as images from the past burst, unwanted, into his mind. ‘I have seen enough to know that. And to know the degree to which it corrupts the spirits of men.’
‘Then why are you so keen to return to war?’ asked Kitty plaintively.
‘Keen? I am not keen in the slightest. I mean to do all I can to end this conflict, but there can be no end to it as long as Bonaparte rules France. Once he is defeated, then I can give up war once and for all.’
Kitty stared at him a moment. ‘They are fine sentiments, Arthur, but there are times when I fear that you have become just as addicted to conflict as Bonaparte.’
Arthur pursed his lips briefly and nodded wearily. ‘There are times when I fear that you may be right.’
London was buzzing with the news that the Spanish royal family had been ousted from the throne. It was clear to all that Bonaparte would replace them with a puppet ruler as soon as possible, and extend his grip on Europe from the Straits of Gibraltar to the Baltic Sea. Before his departure from Dublin Arthur had been sent some documents from the Foreign Office outlining possible campaigns that might be undertaken against Spain’s possessions in the Americas. The schemes had all been hatched by a renegade, General Miranda, leader of the rebels in Venezuela who sought independence from Spain. During the journey to London Arthur had analysed the sketchy plans and could see that there was scope for some action in the Americas, but he was wary of backing wholesale revolution throughout the Spanish empire. Revolutions were tricky beasts whose nature and direction could never be anticipated.
As soon as he reached the house in Harley Street Arthur sent a message to George Canning announcing his arrival and preparedness to meet at the first opportunity. So it was that first thing the following day Arthur presented himself at the office of the Foreign Secretary. Canning was a slight man with brilliant eyes and a ready smile.
‘Ah, Wellesley! Come in and sit yourself down.’ Canning beamed from behind his desk. Arthur did as he was bid and settled comfortably into a soft leather chair opposite his host.