Chapter 2: Georgie’s Confession
He was dressed in his best dress uniform with its gold epaulette on his right shoulder, the gold watch and chain that Caroline had given him hung across from one pocket of his waistcoat to the other, the cross of the Knight of the Bath was pinned to his left breast. Tempted as he was to conceal a few weapons he restricted himself to his dress sword and a barker in his overcoat pocket.
Caroline was in her element; she had run her dressmaker ragged and appeared on the night in a dress based on the latest fashion made of the finest silk from India. Low-cut in the bodice and high-waisted it flowed down her body and out behind in a short train. She ignored the flouncy lace trims that many women favoured but had it decorated with seed pearls sown in an intricate pattern across the bodice. It was at once simple and extremely elegant and would cause a sensation.
She wore a diamond tiara that had a centrepiece of a blue-white diamond of twenty carats matched by a diamond necklace of unsurpassed quality. On her left breast she wore the leaping tiger given her by the Peshwa Baji Rao, its gleaming ruby eyes warning everyone she was dangerous as well as beautiful.
They had aimed to arrive after most of the other guests but when they pulled up in front of Kensington Palace their coach was ushered to the front of the line.
“What’s this all about?” Marty pondered out loud.
“I don’t know,” Caroline replied, “it’s not normal.” They were, after all, the lowest rank of aristocracy as Baron and Baroness and they were being ushered past at least one Viscount.
A footman in royal livery placed steps at the door of their coach and Marty exited first so he could help Caroline down. She had to be careful to neither trip over her dress nor get the train snagged.
A herald led them up through the huge main double doors and to the entrance of the ballroom. Another herald met them inside and announced their arrival in ringing tones. They stepped forward into a maelstrom of greetings and eventually made their way to the end of the receiving line to be greeted by the Prince Regent.
Prince George was dressed in his usual flamboyant style with yet another new consort on his arm and when he saw the pair of them were next in line, he beamed a smile and greeted them in a loud, friendly, German-accented voice that was incapable of pronouncing the letter r.
“My dea’ Marty and Cawoline, what a pleasure it is to see you,” he fairly boomed, “my dea’ you look absolutely wavishing!” and then sotto voice to Marty, “how do you sleep at night?”
Marty put on a smile and replied, “Oh quite well, eventually, you know.”
Which caused his Royal Highness to guffaw with laughter. He then leaned towards Marty and said quietly,
“I need to speak with you on a matter of some sensitivity, please meet me in the games woom at ten o’clock.”
He then stood back, shook Marty’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder like they were old friends.
Slightly bemused but intrigued, Marty and Caroline worked their way out through the crowd to find a quiet corner. Caroline smiled dazzlingly throughout, especially at those women who were openly admiring her new dress. The smile took on a slightly feral look when she noticed women eyeing Marty speculatively.
“What the hell is all that about?” Marty exclaimed in a loud whisper.
“I wish I knew,” Caroline replied.
“Has there been any gossip lately?” Marty asked.
“He’s got himself a new woman, but that’s nothing new and the old one apparently wasn’t too impressed.” Caroline offered.
“Phht, nothing new, that man leaves women lying behind him like discarded clothes,” Marty replied. “Who was the old one?”
“An exiled French aristocrat named Marie Fortin. A minor Contessa I believe.” Caroline answered.
Just then Hood walked up to them.
“Good evening you two,” he greeted them, “have you spoken to the Prince yet?”
Even though Marty tried to get his superior and mentor to talk, Hood wouldn’t say anything to enlighten them. They were sure he knew something of what was afoot but deftly changed the subject whenever either of them tried to question him.
At precisely ten o’clock he was led discretely to the games room by a liveried servant who suddenly appeared at his elbow. He was left waiting on his own for about ten minutes and started knocking the balls around on the billiard table. Eventually the Prince entered through a concealed door that otherwise would be taken as part of the bookshelves.
“Sowwy to keep you,” Prince George said as he shut the door behind him, he looked flustered. “Admiwal Hood said you might be able to help me with a small pwoblem I find I have.” He went to the door Marty had entered by and checked the corridor was empty. Marty noticed that his speech impediment had gotten more pronounced now they were alone.
Marty was beginning to feel worried about what was coming, but he held his nerve.
“I am at your service, your Highness. If there is anything I can do to help, you need only to ask, but please tell me what is wrong so I can consider what could be done.”
The Prince looked at him for a long moment and then sighed.
“You saw that I have a new lady attending me this evening.”
“My wife noticed that and mentioned it, yes.”
“Lady Cawoline is very astute, you are a lucky man. Well my former consort has wun off with something that belongs to my family,” the Prince admitted.
Marty waited. The Prince looked increasingly uncomfortable,
“And, I may have let slip a couple of things that I shouldn’t have in a moment of passion,” he said in a rush.
“Pillow talk, your Highness?” Marty said without much sympathy.
“Yes, well, she knows some things she shouldn’t.”
“So, you want me to retrieve this object and eliminate the chance that she could divulge the information to someone she shouldn’t,” Marty said, cutting to the chase.
“Concise and to the point,” Prince George said with a grimace, “but there is a small pwoblem.”
Marty looked at him and waited.
“She has bolted and left the country. I’m led to believe that she has fled to Spain with a view to making her way to her homeland.”
“France,” Marty stated.
The Prince nodded.
“How long ago?” Marty asked
“Did she leave?” the Prince asked and when Marty nodded replied, “thwee days ago.”
Marty sat on the edge of the billiard table and thought for a moment. The Bethany was still in port and was the fastest thing on the water, but a three-day head start?
“Do you know where she was heading in Spain?” he asked.
“She has welatives in a place called Almewia. I believe she would head there initially,” the Prince replied looking hopeful.
“Initially?” Marty noted and then asked, “Where do you think she will go after that?”
“She will twy and hurt me as much as possible so I think she will head to France and twy and bargain the information for permission to stay and get her family lands back,” the Prince replied.
“And what was the object she took?” Marty asked.
The Prince blushed and examined the green baize of the billiard table but eventually said,
“I let her borrow my wife’s state necklace to wear in bed when we were, you know, intimate.”
“The one with the four sapphires the size of pheasant eggs, and about twenty diamonds?” Marty asked, recalling an image of the princess he had seen in a portrait.
“Yes, that one.”
“That would keep the good Contessa in comfort for the rest of her days,” Marty frowned. “And the information?”
“She was vewy interested in the defences we had prepawed in case Napoleon invaded. She was tewified she would be caught and executed, and I just wanted to weassure her!” the Prince explained in a miserable voice.
Marty looked at him for a long moment and then shook his head in disbe
lief,
“I will get started first thing in the morning,” Marty told him as he stood, bowed and left the room. This was turning into a mission of national importance
“I need to use the Bethany. Is she in India dock?” Marty asked Caroline as he hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek after he returned to the ballroom. She raised an eyebrow in query. “Georgie’s been a mite indiscreet and has asked me for help,” he said as he moved in again for a second kiss.
“Aah the French courtesan?” she asked from behind her fan which she used to shield the kiss from prying eyes.
“Quite,” Marty replied through a smile without moving his lips.
The rest of the evening went smoothly. They spent time with Admiral Hood and his wife and the Count and Countess de Marchets, circulated with the other guests and danced. They left at an acceptable hour but as soon as they got home messages were sent to prepare the Bethany for sailing in the morning. The Basques, Samuel, and Rolland were also given the heads up to get ready to leave. Marty gave them the option to stay behind as they were going into territory where, if they were caught, they could be executed out of hand. Not one declined.
At midnight there was a knock at the door and a servant showed in a courier who delivered a package which Marty had to sign for. It contained a portrait of Marie Fortin and a detailed description of distinguishing marks that could only have come from someone who had an intimate relationship with her, or her mother. It also contained the names of all her known family, their last known whereabouts and a picture of the necklace. He looked at the portrait; there was something very familiar about the woman, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it.
Marty calculated that if she had taken a regular cargo ship, she would need at least fourteen days to make the trip to Almeria. The Bethany could do the trip in half that if they were lucky. She had a four-day head start so if they were really lucky, they might just get there at the same time she did.
But when they got to India dock the Bethany wasn’t going anywhere, during an inspection they had found a series of loose planks around the bow which would have to be repaired before the ship went anywhere.
“It was that big bastard of a cannon we had fitted in the Caribbean,” Tarrant, the Bethany’s captain reported, “it shook the bow to pieces. It’s a wonder we got home!”
“How long to repair it?” Marty asked.
“At least a week,” Tarrant replied.
“You have three days,” Marty told him. “I don’t care what it costs, get this ship ready for sea.”
They returned to the house and John Smith unexpectedly showed up. When Marty asked him what he was doing he told him,
“I heard you was off on a mission and there aint no way I be letting you go without me
The mystery was solved when Caroline admitted to having sent for him as she thought him an indispensable member of the team.
“Why don’t you just hire another ship?” Caroline asked him as they lay in bed that night.
“A normal ship would take the same amount of time as hers and we would still be four days behind her. If the Bethany sails in three days we will still catch up a day or so, if we are lucky, and be that much closer,” he explained.
The next morning Admiral Hood paid a visit at breakfast time and tucked in with relish when Marty invited him to join him. . Marty suspected the old fox had heard that Rolland was at the house and knew he made the most exquisite croissants, which he was devouring one after the other.
“When we heard about the delay, Wickham recalled Linette, she was just finishing a survey of the troops encamped along the French coast and he had those Deal fellows fetch her back. She should be here in time to go with you.”
Caroline, who was sitting with them and sipping a cup of tea asked,
“does she know the Contessa?”
Hood wiped the crumbs away from his mouth,
“I believe they have met a couple of times,” he replied, slightly hesitantly.
“Then she will be able to positively identify her?” Caroline persisted.
“I should think so,” Hood replied, “a positive identification will make life easier for you.”
Marty glanced at Caroline who was eyeing Hood with a distinctly suspicious look. There’s something he’s not saying, he thought, but he chose to wait and see rather than try and force the issue.
Impatience drove, Marty to visit the docks to see how things were going and he was amazed to find the carpenters from the Tempest, Alouette, and Eagle all working on the Bethany along with their mates. He found Fletcher on deck next to Tarrant.
“I wondered where you had gone,” Marty said as he walked up to him, Blaez at his heel. He nodded to the men clustered around the bow and on the dock, sawing timbers to length to replace those that had split, steaming them, then bending and hammering them into place. “Your idea?”
“Didn’t think it would hurt,” Fletcher replied with a smile.
“And you found a supply of teak. Thought there was a shortage at the moment?” Marty observed as the Bethany had been built in India.
Fletcher didn’t answer that, as the source of the wood probably didn’t know it had left his possession yet. He would square the account with him later.
With the extra hands and Fletcher making sure that everything they needed was supplied in time they were making better than expected progress.
Fletcher had joined Marty to avoid the retribution of some gentlemen of dubious distinction and violent tendencies who felt that he had cheated them. He had used his prize money to pay them off when they returned from the Caribbean. He could have returned to his prior life and business, but that would be boring now he had experienced the excitement of sailing with Marty.
The Admiralty and the Government had argued over how to treat the treasure that Marty and the others had captured from a Spanish treasure fleet in the Caribbean. The Government wanted to take all the treasure as ‘Droits of Admiralty’ and just pay what was effectively a salvage fee. The Admiralty had argued that it should all be treated as prize money. In the end they compromised, and they treated half as Droits and the other half as prize money.
Marty had his bank, Coutts, look after the distribution of the, still very large, prize to his men and to the freelancers, many of whom chose to open bank accounts rather than take that much money in cash and make themselves targets.
Chapter 3: The Hunt for Marie
With the extra hands and Fletcher greasing the wheels the work was finished in two and a half days. Unfortunately, the tide was against them and there was no way Tarrant was going to try the Thames and estuary in the dark, so they had to wait until the next morning’s tide to sail.
Linette arrived at dawn with Ryan. They had managed to grab a night together, and their arrival signalled it was time to go.
“Keep chasing those idle bastards at Chatham,” Marty called to Fletcher as the gangplank was sent crashing to the dock.
“Will do, Captain!” Fletcher called back as they warped away from the dock and the lightermen waited to take up the tow to get them out onto the river.
As they slid downstream, the team gathered on the main deck out of the way of the sailors to check their equipment. Tarrant was astonished at the array of weapons that appeared as the team, including the French girl, laid them out to sharpen or service them. Some he recognised, an array of knives, daggers, stilettoes, punch knives, knuckle dusters, pistols and crossbows. He didn’t recognise the blackjacks or garrottes, as he had never seen them before, or the latest innovation from the Workshop which was an explosive device sealed in a cast iron cylinder with a clockwork timer fitted in one end. John Smith had a box of them which he was showing to the others and explaining how to use them. He decided that he was better off not knowing.
He turned his attention back to getting the Bethany safely down the river to the estuary. Once out into the English Channel he made the best of the Northeast wind and steered to take them almost due West to a point off t
he isles of Scilly where he would turn a point West of due South to clear Brest and stay out of the Bay of Biscay. The Bethany flew, this was her element and she revelled in it. The Atlantic rollers presented no challenge at all and she seemed almost to skate over them, only occasionally spearing through an exceptionally big one.
They arrived at the Straights of Heracles in what must have been record time and shot through with neither a ‘by-your-leave’ nor ‘thank you’ to the Rock of Gibraltar. But their progress didn’t go unnoticed and a report was sent to the Admiralty of a clipper under British colours racing through the straights at ‘a reckless pace as though the devil himself was after them.’
They arrived in Almeria just seven days after they left, flying an American flag, the crew tired from keeping up the relentless pace day and night. The merchant ship the Contessa had taken was still anchored in the bay flying a Danish flag and would be the first point of call for Marty and Samuel.
Almeria wasn’t much more than a fishing village with a small wooden dock normally used for offloading the catch. The bay was bordered by a village of fisherman’s huts and further inland, as the land rose, were several grander looking houses surrounded by olive and orange groves.
The visit to the merchantman confirmed that they had indeed carried a French lady to this port and yes, she did go ashore but no, the captain didn’t know where she went after that. She had paid in gold for them to get there as fast as they could, and they had done the trip in twelve days, which he was very proud of, after which she had left as soon as they had docked. They were only two days behind her!
Back on the Bethany he called the team together.
“We need to move fast so only Linette, Ryan, Matai and myself will go,” he announced. Samuel looked like he was about to object so Marty forestalled him by saying,
“You don’t speak Spanish or French and you don’t ride well. You need to stay here with the rest of the men and make sure we can get out of here when we get back.
Vendetta: The Dorset Boy - Book 6 Page 2
