The walled section of the old town had streets running from north to south between the quays lining the Yare and a sea road contiguous with the beach. At right angles to the streets, alleys cut east to west, from sea to river, and Drinkwater was hopelessly lost in these before he eventually discovered the Wrestler's Arms in the market place.
He walked past it three or four times before making up his mind to carry out his plan. The metaphor to be hung for a sheep as a lamb crossed his mind with disquieting persistence, but he entered the coffee room and called for a pot of coffee. It was brought by a pleasant looking girl with soft brown hair and a smile that was pretty enough to distract him. He relaxed.
'Be that all, sir?' she asked, her lilting accent rising on the last syllable.
'No, my dear. Have you pen, paper and ink, and would you oblige me by finding out if Lady Parker is at present in her rooms?'
The girl nodded. 'Oh, yes sir. Her ladyship's in sir, her dressmaker's expected in half an hour sir and she's making preparations for a gala ball on Friday, sir…'
'Thank you,' Drinkwater cut in abruptly, 'but the paper, if you please…'
The girl flushed and bobbed a curtsey, hurrying away while Drinkwater sipped the coffee and found it surprisingly delicious.
When the girl returned he asked her to wait while he scribbled a note requesting permission for Lieutenant Drinkwater to wait upon her ladyship at her convenience, somewhat annoyed at having to use such a tone to an eighteen-year-old girl, but equally anxious that the gala would not turn her ladyship's mind from remembering her deliverer in the Strand.
Giving the girl the note and a shilling he watched her bob away, her head full of God knew what misconceptions. She returned after a few minutes with the welcome invitation that Lady Parker would be pleased to see Lieutenant Drinkwater at once.
He found her ladyship in an extravagant silk morning dress that would not have disgraced Elizabeth at the Portsmouth Assembly Rooms. The girl's plain face was not enhanced by the lace cap that she wore. Drinkwater much preferred the French fashion of uncovered hair, and he could not but agree with Lord St Vincent's nickname for her: Batter Pudding. But somehow her very plainness made his present task easier. Her new social rank had made her expect deference and her inexperience could not yet distinguish sincerity from flattery.
Drinkwater bent over her hand. 'It is most kind of your ladyship to receive me.' He paused and looked significantly at a door which communicated with an adjacent room and from which the low tone of male voices could be heard. 'I do hope I am not disturbing you…'
'Not at all. Thank you Annie, you may go.' The girl withdrew and Lady Parker seated herself at a table. There was a stiffness about her, as though she were very conscious of her deportment. He felt suddenly sorry for her and wondered if she had yet learned to regret being unable to behave like any eighteen-year-old.
'Would you join me in a cup of chocolate, Lieutenant?'
He felt it would be churlish to refuse despite his recent coffee. 'That would be most kind of you.'
'Please sit down.' She motioned to the chair opposite and turned to the tray with its elegant silver pot and delicate china cups.
'May I congratulate you, Lady Parker. At our last meeting I had not connected your name with Admiral Parker's. You must forgive me.'
She smiled and Drinkwater noticed that her eyes lit up rather prettily.
'I had hoped, sir, that you had come to see me as a friend and were not calling upon me as your admiral's wife…'
The blow was quite sweetly delivered and Drinkwater recognised a certain worldly shrewdness in her that he had not thought her capable of. It further reassured him in his purpose.
'Nothing was further from my mind, ma'am. I came indeed to see you and the matter has no direct connection with your husband. I come not so much as a friend but as a supplicant.'
'No direct connection, Mr Drinkwater? And a supplicant? I will willingly do anything in my power for you but I am not sure I understand.'
'Lady Parker forgive me. I should not have importuned you like this and I do indeed rely heavily upon having been able to render you assistance. The truth of the matter is that I have a message I wish delivered in London. It is both private and public in that the matter must remain private, but it is in the public interest.'
She lowered her cup and Drinkwater knew from the light in her eyes that her natural curiosity was aroused. He went on: 'I know I can rely upon your discretion, ma'am, but I have been employed upon special services. That is a fact your own father could verify, though I doubt your husband knows of it. In any event please confirm the matter with the recipient of this letter before you deliver it, if you so wish.' He drew out the heavily sealed letter from his coat and held it out. She hesitated.
'It is addressed to Lord Dungarth at his private address…'
'And the matter is in the public interest?'
'I believe it to be.' His armpits were sodden but she took the letter and Drinkwater was about to relax when the sound of raised voices came from the other room. He saw her eyes flicker anxiously to the door then return to his face. She frowned.
'Lieutenant Drinkwater, I hope this is not a matter of spoiling my ball.'
'I am sorry ma'am, I do not understand.'
'Certain gentlemen are of the opinion that it would be in the public interest if I were not to hold a ball on Friday, they are urging Sir Hyde to sail at once, even threatening to write to London about it.'
'Good heavens, ma'am, my letter has no connection with the fleet. I would not be so presumptuous…' He had appeased her, it seemed. 'The matter is related to affairs abroad,' he added with mysterious significance, 'I am sorry I cannot elaborate further.'
'No, no, of course not. And you simply wish me to deliver this to his lordship?'
'Aye, ma'am, I should consider myself under a great obligation if you would.'
She smiled and again her eyes lit attractively. 'You will be under no obligation Mr Drinkwater, provided you will promise to come to my ball.'
'It will give me the greatest pleasure, ma'am, and may I hope for a dance?'
'Of course, Lieutenant.' He stood. The noises from the other room sounded hostile and he wished to leave before the door opened. 'It would be better if no one knew of the letter, your ladyship,' he indicated the sealed paper on the table.
'My dressmaker comes soon…' She reached for her reticule and hid the letter just as the door burst open. As Drinkwater picked up his hat he came face to face with a short florid man in a grey coat. He was shaking his head at someone behind him.
'No, damn it, no… Ah, Fanny, my dear,' he saw Drinkwater, 'who the deuce is this?'
'May I present Lieutenant Drinkwater, Hyde dear.' Drinkwater bowed.
'Of which ship, sir?' Parker's eyes were hostile.
'Virago, bomb-tender, sir. I took the liberty…'
'Lieutenant Drinkwater took no liberties, my dear, it was he who rescued me from the mob in the Strand last October. The least I could do was present him to you.'
Parker seemed to deflate slightly. He half faced towards the man in the other room, whose identity was still unknown to Drinkwater, then turned again to the lieutenant.
'Obliged, I'm sure, Lieutenant, and now, if you'll excuse me…'
'Of course sir. I was just leaving…' But Lady Parker had a twinkle in her eye and Drinkwater, grateful and surprised at the skill of her intervention, suspected her of enjoying herself.
'Lieutenant Drinkwater served under father at Camperdown, Hyde, I am sure he is worthy of your notice.'
Parker shot him another unfriendly glance and Drinkwater wondered if the admiral thought he had put his wife up to this currying of favour. Clearly the other man was forming some such notion for he appeared disapprovingly in the doorway. The shock of recognition hit Drinkwater like a blow. If he thought Parker saw him in a poor light it was clear Lord Nelson saw him in a worse.