Lawford took Sharpe's elbow. 'They do a cold spiced beef, Richard, which I really must recommend. The salmagundi is truly the best in London. Turtle soup, perhaps? Ah, this table, splendid.
The meal was excellent. It seemed odd to think that their last meeting had been in the convent at Ciudad Rodrigo where, the city still stinking of fire and cannon-smoke, Lawford had lain in bed with his left arm newly amputated. Lawford laughed at the memory. 'Seems I was damned lucky to miss Badajoz, yes?
'It was bad.
'You survived, Richard! Lawford raised his glass of claret and signalled with his head for the waiter to bring another bottle.
Cigars were given to them and Sharpe admiringly watched the skill with which Lawford used his one hand to clip and light the cigar. He refused to let the waiter do it, preferring, he said, always to cut his own. He blew out a plume of smoke. 'So why on earth were you trying to see York?
Sharpe told him. He wanted to tell someone, and who better than this Member of Parliament, magistrate, and old soldier with whom he had fought on two continents.
Lawford listened, sometimes asking a question, more often prompting Sharpe to continue. His shrewd eyes watched the Rifleman and, if the story of Foulness astonished him, he took care to hide it. Indeed, the only real surprise he showed was when Sharpe described the attempt in the rookery to murder him.
When the tale was told Lawford put his cigar down and sipped at some brandy. He swirled the liquid in his glass and stared at Sharpe. 'So what's your private interest, Richard?
'Private? Sharpe was puzzled.
Lawford retrieved his cigar and sketched a gesture in the air, leaving a trail of smoke. 'What do you personally want out of it?
Sharpe paused. This was not the moment to talk of Jane Gibbons, or his wish to save her from an odious marriage. 'I just want men to take to Spain. I want a Battalion to fight into France.
'Ah! Lawford seemed surprised that Sharpe should want nothing more. 'I see, I see. Who else have you told?
'No one.
'Except your Sergeant, of course. He's well, is he?
'Yes, sir.
'Do tell him I asked. Splendid fellow, for an Irishman. Lawford frowned. 'You say he killed a militia man?
'We killed one.
Lawford smiled at the «we». 'A trifle clumsy, perhaps? Better not to have done it.
'They were trying to kill us!
'Bound to be questions asked, Richard, bound to be! Fellows will be up on their hind legs embarrassing the government. It's really too bad.
'Say they were chasing smugglers! Sharpe could not understand this concern for a dead militia man that did not seem extended to Sir Henry's peculations.
'Brilliant! Smugglers! Very good, Richard. We'll do that. He leaned forward and laid the stub of his cigar on a silver plate. 'You do have some proof of these auctions, Richard, of course? Account books, records, tedious paperwork? He smiled.
'Accounts?
'Proof, Richard, proof.
'I saw it!
Sir William shook his head slowly, then sipped his brandy. 'My dear Sharpe! All you saw were some soldiers on Simmerson's lawn! The rest is surmise! Sharpe had said nothing about Jane Gibbons or what she had told him, though now, facing Lawford's sceptical face, he doubted whether her testimony would add any weight to his argument.
'I saw. .
'I know what you say, Lawford smiled to take the sharpness from his words, 'but we shall want proof.
Sharpe leaned back. He felt uncomfortable in this lavish room among these fat men whose chins bulged and wobbled over their silk stocks. 'I heard Lord Fenner say there was no Second Battalion, except as a paper convenience, and I've proved him wrong.
'There is that, Lawford smiled. 'A greedy man, Fenner. Seems as rich as Croesus, but always eager for more. Not a fellow I'd choose as an enemy, at least not without proof, eh?
'The proof is at Foulness. A day's march away!
'I'm sure it is. Lawford held up his one hand in a placatory gesture. His other sleeve was pinned across his coat. 'The nub is York.
'York?
'The Duke. Foolish Freddie. Lawford smiled again. 'Doesn't want another scandal, that's for sure! He had to resign for two years as it was. My dear fellow, thank you. Sharpe had poured more brandy as Lawford cut another cigar. 'I think you'd better leave it to me, Richard. Sharpe said nothing, and Lawford leaned forward persuasively. 'Let me patrol around it, eh? Will you let me do that, Richard? Say to the end of next week? He laughed. 'That'll give you a chance to watch Prinny's battle of Vitoria, yes? You'll enjoy that!
Sharpe was not happy with the suggestion, but he accepted that Sir William moved in circles that understood these matters, while he was a friendless soldier in a capital city where no one cared about him. 'Why don't I just see the Duke of York?
'Richard! Lawford said in a pained voice. 'You'll only upset him, and you know how liverish that damned family is! My dear Sharpe! If I was facing a French army I'd be delighted to have your help, can't you see you need mine now? You want your men, yes?
'Yes.
'Then I shall do my damnedest! I can't promise anything, of course, but I think I can extricate you. Where are you lodging, Richard?
'Rose Tavern. It's in Drury Lane.
'I do know where the Rose is, Richard, Lawford said testily, then noted the name in a silver bound notebook. 'Give me two days, then meet me here for luncheon. You can do that? And don't worry about disobeying those orders to go back to Spain, I'll make sure there's no undue fuss there.
Sharpe frowned. 'Can I ask what you propose to do, sir?
'Do? Lawford snapped the notebook shut. 'The proper thing, the clever thing. A few quiet words, Richard, here and there. Thank God Parliament's recessed so we can keep the whole damned mess secret. And you, Richard, he stabbed at Sharpe with his fresh cigar, 'are going to do nothing. You will keep quiet. No stirring up the enemy from the skirmish line? This is London, not Spain! He laughed. 'Perhaps we can tempt you to dine one evening? Lady Lawford would never forgive me if I didn't snare you for one night.
'That's kind of you, sir.
'Nonsense! Lawford smiled. 'Just leave it all to me, Richard! He picked up a strawberry left over from luncheon and popped it into his mouth. 'Just leave it to me.
'Yes, sir.
Lord Fenner met his guest in the library. His Lordship was not pleased.
Lord Fenner was in the habit of asking the Lady Camoynes to visit him in the early evening, thus leaving his nights free for the pursuit of other pleasures. This evening, as Lord Fenner closed the library door, the Lady Camoynes waited upstairs and Lord Fenner, instead of watching her undress, was forced to be polite to this unexpected and unwelcome guest. 'I usually take a glass of brandy at this hour. You'll join me?
Sir William Lawford smiled his assent. He appraised the pictures that hung between the shelves, noting a fine small drawing of ships at sea and a very good Reynolds. 'Your mother?
'Yes, Lord Fenner had barked his order for the brandy. 'You said this business was urgent, Sir William?
'I would hardly disturb your Lordship otherwise. Lawford ignored his host's barely disguised rudeness, admiring instead a Roman bust of a woman with tightly rolled hair. Everything about this room, from its books to its fine hand-painted Chinese wallpaper, testified to the exquisite taste and wealth of Lord Fenner. Lawford accepted his brandy, waited until the steward had left, then sat in the chair Fenner offered. 'Your Lordship's most excellent health.
'And yours. Fenner sat down. He was dressed in a black suit, with a white silk waistcoat and stock. He tried to guess, from Lawford's demeanour, just what kind of business was so urgent as to preclude an appointment, but the younger man's face was unreadable. Fenner was remembering what he knew of Lawford; an ex-soldier who now sat in the Government's interest on the green-leather benches of the House of Commons. Fenner crossed his legs and brushed at a boot-tassel. 'You'll forgive me, Sir William, if I tell you that I have other engagements this evening?