‘I’m sorry, Arthur dear. I did not mean to upset you.’
‘You have not upset me,’ Arthur said coldly.
Arthur did not like to deceive his wife and he knew well enough that the idea of his going off to war would alarm her. Besides, it was one thing to be excited by the possibility of a military command on active service, and quite another to be fortunate enough to be granted such an appointment in practice. He smiled to himself as it occurred to him that it was perverse to think of the prospect of danger as an opportunity to be grasped.Yet without the war with France, he would never have had the chance to improve his lot in life, doomed for ever to be a younger son of a minor aristocratic family casting about for a well-heeled wife to save him from penury.
‘What are you thinking of, my dear?’
Arthur glanced up guiltily, and at once composed his expression into a mask of indifference. ‘Just something someone said to me today.’
‘Oh? And what was that?’
‘It does not matter. It is of no consequence,’ Arthur replied abruptly and instantly regretted his tone as he saw the hurt look flit across his wife’s face. She had been attempting to make small talk, to play the part of the dutifully attentive wife, only to be curtly rebuffed. He decided to attempt to divert her attention from the pain he had caused and clapped his hands together. ‘So tell me, how is our son today?’
Kitty started at the sudden noise and then smiled nervously. ‘Arthur is much better. I think he has almost recovered from the measles now.’
‘As I always knew he would. Good, good,’ Arthur continued quickly. ‘He is a robust little boy, sure enough. Make a fine soldier one day, eh?’
‘Soldier?’ Kitty nodded faintly. ‘Yes, that would be nice. A hero, like his father. That would make me so proud, my dear.’
Arthur cleared his throat.‘My dear, it seems that I may have to travel to London soon.’
‘London? Why?’
‘Official business. I am minded to brief the Prime Minister on the situation in Ireland. With all this trouble we have been having with rebellious spirits, he will be keen to be kept abreast of events.’
‘But I thought the situation was calming down? You told me so yourself.’
‘It is, my dear. Which means that my presence here is not quite so vital at the present. Now would be a good time to absent myself.’
‘How long will you be away?’
‘Hard to say. Some weeks.’ Arthur picked up his cutlery and began to cut at his steak again as he continued, ‘Months, possibly. I cannot say.’
Kitty looked at him with large sorrowful eyes.‘So long? I don’t think I could bear it.’
‘Of course you can, my dear,’ Arthur said smoothly.‘You will need to take charge of the household in my absence. It will be good practice for you.’
‘Practice for what?’
‘Ah.’ Arthur paused and cursed his tongue. ‘It is possible that I may be required to serve in the army again at some time. In which case, we may be separated for a while. Naturally, I could not fight well for my country if I was concerned that you were not coping with running the family’s affairs and seeing to the upkeep of the household. So it would be wise to treat this trip to London as a chance for you to get some experience of managing without me. I’m certain that you will make a fine job of it, Kitty, my dear.’
‘I will try to,’ she replied softly. ‘But do come back to me, to your son, as soon as you can.’
‘I will endeavour to do so with all my might,’ Arthur replied, forcing a smile.
It felt good to be back in London again, even though it had only been a matter of months since he had departed for Dublin. The streets, the coffee houses and the halls of Parliament itself were buzzing with news from Europe. With the coming of spring the French Emperor had renewed his campaign in the east and was marching towards the Russian armies in pursuit of a decisive battle. Few people in London seemed to doubt that he would achieve it. For his part Arthur was not so convinced. It all depended on how far Bonaparte was prepared to advance from his supply depots. If the Russians laid waste to the countryside behind them, then the French army must starve the further east it advanced. In time the Russians could pick their ground and turn on the tired, hungry and demoralised remains of the Grand Army. At least, that is the strategy that should be employed, Arthur reflected. Whether Tsar Alexander would see things the same way was another matter.
As soon as he had returned to the house in Harley Street,Arthur sent a message to Castlereagh at the War Office to request a meeting. He had already written to the minister at the start of June explaining his wish to be included in any army sent to fight the French, even if that meant giving up his current post and all the political prestige that went with it. Castlereagh’s response had been swift and he had promised to discuss the matter in person if Arthur came to London.
So it was that on a fine bright day in the middle of June Arthur was strolling briskly along Whitehall to the War Office.Turning through the gates at Horseguards he passed between the sentries at the main entrance and presented himself at the desk at the end of the hall.
‘Major-General Sir Arthur Wellesley. I have an appointment with the minister.’
The clerk glanced down the list of names and then nodded to one of the orderlies seated behind him. ‘Take the general upstairs. Minister’s office.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The orderly bowed his head. ‘If you’d follow me, sir?’
As they climbed the staircase and passed along corridors Arthur was aware of a good deal more activity than had been the case on his previous visit. Clerks and officers were busy at their desks in each room they walked by. Others hurried along the corridors with sheafs of paper clutched tightly to their sides.
‘It would appear that the War Office is engaged in planning something rather grand.’
‘Yes, indeed, sir.’The orderly glanced back and nodded, before lowering his voice. ‘Word is that there are plans to invade France itself, sir.’
‘Really?’ Arthur doubted it. There was no sense in such a direct approach to the enemy. Not when there was no earthly chance of success against the numbers the French could bring to bear against a British army setting foot on their soil. ‘Any news from the continent?’
The orderly nodded. ‘I heard from a clerk upstairs that the latest despatch says that Boney has forced the Russians to make peace. The beggar’s unbeatable.’
Arthur glanced at him sharply. ‘No general is unbeatable, it is just a question of time. Bonaparte will be beaten one day.’
‘Really, sir?’
‘You have my word on it.’
‘That’s a comfort,’ the orderly replied and Arthur felt a brief spark of anger at the man’s tone, before his mind fixed on the news. So Bonaparte had defeated the Russians.Arthur shook his head at the Tsar’s rashness. He was doing Bonaparte’s work for him.This was the price an army paid when it was led in person by a monarch, rather than a professional soldier. Arthur smiled wryly. France was indeed fortunate that her ruler and the very best of her generals were one and the same man. Fortunate for France, but a curse to her enemies.