Spies and Subterfuge

by Christopher Hoare

  “Hmm, and then you will change again before we leave for the Admiralty?”

  “Surely you will agree that Lady Roberta Bond should be at least as well dressed for this visit as she was as Roberta Stephenson in July. Does that not please you?”

  “Of course it does, my Dear, but I want to call on the Prime Minister as well as the First Lord, and that will mean conducting my business with them before they go to luncheon—you know how long these political luncheons can take.”

  “Not as a personal observation, but I can well appreciate what might extend their repast.”

  He stepped back into the room to plant a kiss on her lips, which also extended its expected time, before leaving her to go downstairs.

  The grand arrival at his old bedroom last night had not worked out as he had hoped. He had barely got under the covers and pulled off his wife’s negligée when his fatigue of the last two nights had hit like a Cornish gale. He did remember her obliging him with some attention but he had fallen asleep quite quickly, and clearly, she had not attempted to rouse him for more marital duty. He decided that he felt a marked reluctance in her to initiate anything remotely connected with their bedroom adventures. Rather disappointing, really, but it was early days yet.

  He arrived at the foot of the staircase and made for the breakfast room. Both Elise and McNab were there already, but so, surprisingly, was Aunt Caroline. He greeted them formally and helped himself to eggs, a generous slice of brisket, fresh bread and marmalade and took a cup of coffee from the footman as he settled himself at the table.

  “Well. Everyone have a good night?”

  “I think I died as soon as my head hit the pillows,” Elise said with a sly smile. “How did you and Lady Bond fare?”

  “We were also very fatigued.”

  Lady Caroline regarded the exchange carefully, Bond noted. She was not likely to miss anything—the sooner Elise was found other accommodation the better. “Where do you intend to go this morning, Madame?”

  “I have the name and address of an official with the pre-war Dutch government. I want to make enquiries about the family business in Sumatra.”

  “Do you intend to go to the Indies, Madame Timmins?” Lady Caroline asked.

  “I rather think not, My Lady. I came back to the Low Countries because of my health. Mais, I would like to know if I can draw upon the bank account my father had established in Amsterdam.”

  “Is that aye possible with the Frenchies in the city?” Captain McNab asked.

  “It is not easy, but some financial transactions can always be arranged—even in wartime,” Bond answered. “What are your plans, Captain?”

  “Ah was instructed tae go to the War Office, My Lord. They will take my report of conditions among the French Army in the Low Countries and also arrange my return to Scotland.”

  “Ah, then you will be wanting a ride to the Horse Guards this morning. You must come with Lady Bond and me when we go to the Admiralty.”

  “I thank ye kindly, My Lord.”

  Lady Caroline accepted more coffee from the footman. “And what are your plans, Julian? You must not delay long before taking your wife to visit Devon.”

  “I sent a letter to Father in Medusa’s mailbag right after the marriage, Aunt. I expect a reply very soon.”

  “Through the Admiralty?”

  “I am sure he will address it so. Ah, here is Roberta. Be sure to help yourself to some of the brisket, my Dear—it is so refreshing to return to good old English beef after the poor fare in Napoleon’s empire.”

  “Aye, and ah suspect that much o’ that beef were really horse, My Lord.”

  Roberta helped herself to some of the breakfast and then was seated beside her husband by the footman. “Has my trunk arrived from St James yet?” she asked the butler.

  “I have not seen it, My Lady,” Parker said. “The boy who took the message is not long returned.”

  “Thank you, Parker. It is not very large, can you have it sent to our room as soon as it arrives?”

  “It will be done, My Lady.”

  “We were just discussing when you should go to Devon,” Lady Caroline said. “The Marquess will be impatient to meet you.”

  “I would hope we will visit before the end of the week, My Lady. I must also get to Glasgow as soon as I can.”

  “Oh, call me Aunt Caroline. It seems that such familiarity is a product of this war, but I do not feel averse to it.”

  “Why, thank you, Aunt. I wonder if a short visit would be appropriate. I do not want to appear rude.”

  “If my brother takes to you he will excuse any rudeness in a pretty woman. But if he does not, then you may do nothing that will satisfy his dignity.”

  “Oh, come, Aunt Caroline,” Bond protested. “You will frighten my wife half to death. The Old Man is not that bad.”

  “Ah should expect a lassie that has stood afore Napoleon an’ conquered him should take a terrible fright to suffer as ye say, My Lord.”

  Aunt Caroline stared. “What is this? You saw Napoleon?”

  Elise set down her cup. “More than that, Lady Caroline.”

  “Oh, Elise,” Roberta said. “We must not speak of our war stories, at least, not until Napoleon’s invasion is defeated.”

  The butler returned. “Excuse me, My Lord. Your trunk has arrived from Number Six, St James’s Square, Lady Bond. There is a Mr. Potts with it who requests a word with you.”

  “Oh. Mr. Potts is one of the engineers at our Tyneside workshops. I would like to speak with him, if you would show him in.”

  “Certainly, My Lady.”

  Potts was one of those small neat men who seemed to have inherited a deal of quality to compensate for the slight build. He entered the breakfast room only two paces and stood with his cap in hand. “A very good day to you, Miss Roberta, or I should say—”

  “It is Lady Bond now, Henry. I hope all is well with you. What business brings you to London?”

  “Mr. Postlethwait and I are here for some business with the War Office, Miss—My Lady. We are anxious to learn when you would return. Your father is desirous of your speedy arrival at Clydebank.”

  “No more anxious than I am to return there. I must write him a letter this very evening, but perhaps I should hear your news first.” She looked at Lord Bond. “Perhaps we might invite them for dinner this evening? Just the two of you?”

  “Yes, My Lady.”

  Bond shrugged and smiled expansively. “That would be in order. Two more this evening, Parker.”

  “What time will that be, My Lord— Lady Caroline?”

  “Oh, at seven, I think, Parker,” Lady Caroline said. “Will we hear some War Office business, Mr. Potts?”

  “I dare say, My Lady. They has urgent business for the railway shops.”

  “Fascinating,” Lady Caroline said with a wry smile. “Is there any other news from the industrial world you might tell us?”

  Potts seemed unsure of himself, but he directed his words at Roberta. “The new rail line from Carlisle to Glasgow has been completed this past fortnight, My Lady. It would be your quickest way home.”

  “I’m sure she is pleased to hear that—if she only knew where her home was,” Lady Caroline said with a shake of the head.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Business and Social Graces

  Unlike the first visit Roberta had made to the Admiralty, only the First Lord, Lord Paulit, and Commander Ripley awaited them in the Board room, but the proceedings were every bit as intense, with the only civility being the congratulations on their marriage.

  The details of the spying mission were the first item of business, and Their Lordships were incredulous as they listened to the story. “Napoleon’s Chief of Police entertained you to a luncheon, Madame?” the First Lord demanded.

  Roberta took a deep breath. “Fouché clearly had reservations about Lord Bond and me as Americans. He questioned me about our actions at about the same time as another man was interviewing Lord Bond.”
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br />   “And we would certainly been unmasked if our accounts had differed,” Lord Bond said.

  Lord Paulit shook his head. “You both took a terrible chance.”

  “Yes, but the situation and the American Ambassador’s instructions in the letter had dictated our course of action,” Roberta answered.

  Her husband nodded agreement and smiled at her. “And he must have been satisfied with our accounts of ourselves— otherwise he would never have introduced Lady Bond, as Mrs. Paine, to the Emperor two days later.”

  “He did what?” All three gentlemen spoke together and the First Lord insisted that the details must be recounted at once. The technical discoveries were glossed over as the events were heard and questioned until it reached the point where Roberta had seen the ironclad in its drydock.

  Here, Commander Ripley saw a detail he might question. “How accurate are your judgements of the vessel, My Lady? Since you must have carried out your investigation under Fouché’s own eyes?”

  “I must draw everyone’s attention to the fact that I had a companion in this investigation, Madame Elise Timmins, who was my husband’s contact with the Dutch resistance. At this time, Fouché was more intent on interrogating her, since he had been aware of some activities under the name she gave him, and challenged her with the authenticity of it.”

  “It was not authentic?” Lord Paulit asked.

  “Not at all,” Bond said with a laugh. “I had warned her she was overusing the identity.”

  Roberta smiled. “I believe Fouché said ‘you would have to be eighty years of age to be the legitimate Freiherren von Langenhorst’. Poor Elise almost collapsed, but she is made of sterner stuff. She kept up the conversation which allowed me to study the ironclad while Fouché’s attention focused on her.”

  “Good heavens. So he had her arrested?”

  “No, he gave her a task to act as a double agent of his own,” Roberta said. “Which she accepted but did not carry out. Because of it, she was able to help me escape Antwerp the following day without my being followed. She came to London with us and is a guest at Tiverton House.”

  “She is in London as a double agent?” The First Lord frowned.

  “No,” Lord Bond said. “She suspected carrying out Fouché’s task would have subjected her to the mercy of the Comte de la Marck. Scant mercy. She cannot return to the Low Countries and is looking for refuge.”

  Their listeners’ doubts were eventually settled, except the First Lord instructed a written account to be placed in the files, and the discussion of the steamships was entered into. Roberta unrolled the sketches Mr. Holmes had assisted her with aboard the Reaper. “You will see that my dimensions of the pyroscaphes are more certain, since I was aboard one of them, those of the ironclad are estimates made from the top of the drydock where it was being built. I did see that certain parts of its machinery seemed to be no more than enlarged versions of those I had seen in the pyroscaphe.”

  “Yes,” Commander Ripley said. “One would expect as much.”

  “And you say that the American inventor, Robert Fulton, is the engineer of the ironclad?”

  “All of my informants said the same, even Fouché spoke of his presence in Antwerp,” Roberta said. “However, he was reported ill, which prevented his attending the steamship demonstration for Napoleon.”

  “He had designed a submersible boat for Napoleon’s first attempted invasion,” Lord Paulit said.

  “He worked for us after 1805,” the First Lord said. “Designed some underwater torpedoes, but they were not a practical success.”

  “This ship design, with the paddlewheels located between two conjoined hulls, is certainly his,” Roberta said. “They solve the problem of the paddles being destroyed by enemy fire, but I am dubious of the sea worthiness of the vessel so built.”

  The First Lord regarded her soberly. “It seems that you are destined to put that question to a practical test, my dear. You have but ten months to prove your answer to Mr. Fulton’s contraption.”

  Lord Bond saw her to a carriage when their Admiralty meeting was over. “You had best have that conversation with my Aunt after luncheon, but do not be too much cast down by her gloomy predictions.”

  “I will try not to be. I assume she is dependent on your father for her living arrangements?”

  “Lord, no. She is a wealthy widow, the late Earl of Silchester has left her with ten thousand a year or better. She is in London to try to wean Lizzie away from her dratted horses. The Old Man has insisted she will be married next year, or he’ll have the stable master shoot her.”

  “Oh, Julian. Do not be so flippant. I can tell that you all have driven the poor girl to live with the horses for her own peace of mind.”

  “Take care with your compassion or you may receive the duty of marrying her off instead of the Countess Caroline. Anyway, I will see you this evening for dinner—the First Lord is coming to see the Prime Minister with me so the discussions about my American peace negotiations may last hours. Or conversely they may dislike what I have done and will send me out the door in short order. Wish me luck. I would feel more at ease if you were coming with me, you are my lucky charm.” They kissed and then he helped her into the carriage and went back into the Admiralty.

  Mr. Postlethwait and Mr. Potts arrived for dinner wearing black jackets and waistcoats over grey breeches and stockings, with large white cravats. Rather the fashion of the time of the poor old King than that of the Regency. Roberta noticed that Lady Caroline took pains to conceal her opinion, while Lady Elizabeth hid her face behind her napkin.

  “Please permit me to recognize my great pleasure in my heartfelt congratulations upon the happy couple,” Martin Postlethwait said before they seated themselves.

  Lord Bond clearly received the words with a degree of astonishment, and with a look, passed the duty of the reply to her. Roberta, her mind filled with distaste at his obsequiousness and his hypocrisy, managed to smile graciously. “I thank you both on behalf of my husband and me. It is a surprise but a great pleasure that we are able to entertain you both at our table.”

  “We have been at our deliberations with the military authorities for most of the day, My Lady,” Postlethwait continued. “Should we have had more time we would certainly have arrived this evening with something of a suitable object of commemoration.”

  “Oh, please do not think that necessary, sir. The suddenness and location of the marriage ceremony has caught both families entirely by surprise.”

  Postlethwait’s eyes glinted. “Surprise, My Lady? Suddenness?”

  Lord Bond cleared his throat. “We were married aboard the frigate Medusa, eleven days ago. That is all we need to mention on the subject.”

  “Yes, My Lord. Certainly, My Lord.”

  Postlethwait took refuge in staring at his place setting, surely more kinds of silver knives, spoons, and crystal glasses than he had heretofore hardly imagined. Roberta tried to soften the rebuke. “We have only been in London since midnight last night, so you see that we have barely begun to have made contacts with everyone who must be informed. Later this evening, I will write the letter to my father.”

  Lady Caroline provided a distraction. “You young gentlemen must excuse my inquisitiveness, but I must ask you about the topics discussed at the Horse Guards. My husband, the late Earl of Silchester, was always interested in army affairs, even though he had not been in the field himself since the loss of Yorktown.”

  “I see, Lady Silchester,” Henry Potts answered. “I am sure you will not be surprised to learn that we were discussing the construction and operation of military railways.”

  Postlethwait recovered enough to add his few words. “The Marquess of Wellington is planning the defence of Kent, should the French forces actually land.”

  Lady Caroline paused her serving instructions to the footman. “Lord Arthur Wellesley? I thought he commanded the army in Spain.”

  “I did hear that the government was calling him home for consultations,�
� Lord Bond said.

  “What plans are there for military railways?” Roberta asked.

  “Only preliminary discussions at present,” Potts answered. “They want to know how quickly rails can be laid, where the materials might be stockpiled, and what locomotives and rolling stock might be commandeered.”

  “His Lordship wants your father to survey and advise on the necessary routes,” Postlethwait added.

  “Oh no. I will need his help to keep the construction of eight more spitefuls running smoothly.”

  The diners received this plaint with equanimity as they regarded the savoury course they were about to consume. “It would seem that there must be many opportunities for young engineers at Clydebank, My Lady,” Potts said with a smile. “I hear the work is carried out in the open rather than in smoke filled locomotive workshops.”

  “If you suppose working through the winter out in the elements is so ‘desirable’, sir, I will certainly discuss such a change for you with my father, but I do not think trying to learn shipbuilding under such conditions and haste will result in the kinds of results we require.” She contemplated a new task to add to the forces already gathering about her. “Oh drat, I may have to steal some shipyard superintendents from our competitors.”

  “Steal, Lady Roberta?” Lady Elizabeth chimed in. “That sounds like fun. Does one throw them over the shoulders of a stallion and ride off with them through the night?”

  “I will certainly forbid anything of the kind,” Lord Bond said with a laugh. “That goes for my sister as well as my wife—although it does offer a good thought for you, dear Lizzie. Perhaps you should be riding to more hunts and fewer balls.”

  “I wish you could convince our father of that, Julian.”

  Roberta barely listened to this turn in the conversation. All of a sudden the enormity of the task before her, before them all, weighed heavily on her as the First Lord’s words returned. They had but ten months to build ten spitefuls and the larger vessel, still without even a name or the necessary draughts, and to train their crews for war duty. And to maintain their progress while the exigencies of war took their trained men and valuable materials away for other purposes.