Beneath the aurora

'Bess, you know James has no means of support beyond his half-pay; he yearns for a ship…'

You promised him his swab, Nathaniel, yet he remains on the lieutenants' list.'

'You know I recommended him, but…'

'The matter proved only your obscurity,' Elizabeth was quick to point out.

'Touché,' he muttered. 'Well, I can't guarantee him his swab, but I can put him in a good position to earn it. He can have the Kestrel, d'you remember her?'

'She's only a little cutter, isn't she?'

'Yes, but she provides him with an opportunity,' countered Drinkwater, increasingly desperate. You know too damned much about naval affairs, Elizabeth,' he said, rising from the bed and tearing testily at his stock.

And though they lay in each other's arms until dawn, they were unable to find the satisfaction true lovers expect of one another.

CHAPTER 4 Departures

October 1813

On the last Thursday in September, Drinkwater rose before dawn. Elizabeth, as used to the regime of the byre as her husband was to that of a ship, was astir equally early. She was to leave for Gantley Hall after breakfast, though without orders for James Quilhampton who had been sent to Chatham the instant Drinkwater learned the cutter Kestrel was mastless.

'My dear, I have to go to the Admiralty. I shall have the coach brought round for you.'

'As you wish.'

Bardolini, in shirt and overalls, caught him on the landing as he prepared to leave.

'Captain, please, today ...'

'Colonel, today I promise. I told you not to expect a response until Thursday, and you shall have your answer today.'

'But I have yet to meet Lord Castlereagh ...'

'Lord Casdereagh has been informed of your arrival. Now do be a good fellow and be patient. I shall send for you before this evening, rest assured upon the matter.'

'This evening? But Captain…'

Drinkwater hurried on down the stairs and met Williams in the hall. 'Williams, be so kind as to send word for the coach. My wife's portmanteau is almost ready to come down.'

Elizabeth, in grey travelling dress and boots, her bonnet in her hand, joined him for coffee. He nodded at the sunlight streaming in through the window.

'Well, my dear, you should have a pleasant enough run. D'you have something to read?'

'You know I have trouble reading in a coach, Nathaniel.'

'I'm sorry. I had forgotten. You used to ...'

'We used to do a lot of things,' she said quietly, and the words stung him with reproach.

'The Colonel will have to break his fast alone this morning,' she continued. 'It is curious, but I always thought soldiers were early afoot.'

'I think not Neapolitan soldiers,' he said, smiling, grateful for the change of subject and the lifeline she had thrown him.

'He is a strange fellow, though well enough educated. He reads English books. I found him reading your copy of Prince Eugene's Memoirs yesterday, but he seemed distracted. Has he been out since his arrival?'

'I cautioned him not to venture far and not to be absent for more than half an hour. His uniform is somewhat distinctive, even when he wears a cloak.'

'At least he doesn't wear his hat.'

'No,' Drinkwater laughed, 'though there are so many foreign corps in our service today that I doubt one more fantastic uniform among so many peacocks will turn any heads. Have you seen what they have done to our light dragoons? They've turned them into hussars with pelisses and more frogging than ratlines on a first-rate's mainmast. How the poor devils are supposed to campaign, let alone fight in such ridiculous clothes, I'm damned if I know.'

Williams looked in to announce the coach.

'Well, my dear, looks like goodbye.' He stood as she dabbed at her lips with a napkin and rose, picking up her bonnet. He took it from her and kissed her. He felt her yield and stirred in reaction to her softness.

'Oh Bess, my darling, don't think too ill of me.'

'I should be used to you by now,' she murmured, but both knew it was the unfamiliar and uncertain future that lay between them.

At the Admiralty Drinkwater called upon Barrow and received the orders he had drafted. 'God speed and good fortune, Captain. Lord Castlereagh will receive Bardolini this evening.'

'Thank you, Mr Barrow.'

In his office he removed Pocock's painting and asked for a porter to take it to Lord North Street, then sent for Templeton.

'D'you have all your dunnage, Templeton?'

'I believe so, sir.' Templeton's tone was, Drinkwater thought, one of miserable and reluctant martyrdom.

You have done as I asked?'

'To the letter, sir.'

'Good. That is a sound principle.'

'The papers you were anxious about are secured in oilcloth in the corner.' Templeton pointed to a brown parcel secured with string and sealing wax.

'Very well, I shall take them myself.' Drinkwater looked round the room. The bookcase which had contained Templeton's meticulously maintained guard books was empty.

'This is a damnable place,' Drinkwater said curtly. Templeton sniffed disagreement. 'It is better to be pleased to leave a place than to mope over it,' Drinkwater added.

'It is a matter of opinion, sir,' Templeton grumbled.

Drinkwater grunted and picked up the parcel. 'Come, sir, let us begone.'

The clock at the Horse Guards was chiming eleven as he walked back to Lord North Street to take his final departure. Williams greeted him and Drinkwater asked that his sea-chest be made ready.

'Mrs Williams is ironing the last of the shirts, sir.'

'Very good. Where is the Colonel?'

'He left an hour ago, sir.'

'What, for a walk?'

'No, sir, a gentleman called for him. He seemed to be expected.'

Drinkwater frowned. 'Expected? What d'you mean?'

'The man said he had called for Colonel Bardolini. I asked him to come into the hall and wait. When I brought the Colonel into the hall, he asked the gentleman whether he had come from Lord Castlereagh. The gentleman said he had, and Bardolini left immediately.'

'You are quite certain it was Bardolini who mentioned Lord Castlereagh?'

'Positive upon the point, sir. I could not have been mistaken. If you'll forgive my saying so, sir, I could not...'

'No, no, of course not, Williams, I just need to be certain upon the matter.'

'Is something amiss, sir?'

Drinkwater shrugged. 'I'm not sure. Perhaps not... Come, I must gather the last of my traps together, or I shall leave something vital behind.' And so, in the pressing needs of the everyday, Drinkwater submerged a primitive foreboding.

At four in the afternoon an under-secretary on Lord Castlereagh's staff arrived in a barouche to convey Bardolini to his lordship's presence.

Drinkwater met the young man in the withdrawing-room. 'Is the Colonel not with his Lordship already?'

'Not that I am aware of,' said the under-secretary with a degree of hauteur. Drinkwater, in grubby shirt-sleeves as he finished preparing his sea-kit after so long in London, felt a spurt of anger along with a sense of alarm.

'But I understand one of his Lordship's flunkeys called for him this morning.'

'Mr Barrow was told that Colonel Bardolini would not be received before noon, very probably not before evening. His Lordship has rearranged his schedule to accommodate the Colonel, not to mention Captain, er, Drink ...'

'Drinkwater. I am Captain Drinkwater and I am obliged to his Lordship, but I fear the worst. It would appear that the Colonel has been carried off by an impostor.'