Steam & Stratagem

by Christopher Hoare

  Nicholas van Aa came to him. “We sail north, when Neuzen is east south-east.”

  “That is correct. I look to find an agent in Flushing. Neuzen will be our next destination from Flushing.”

  Van Aa shrugged. “Flushing is no port today. Napoleon’s money has made Neuzen a better one.”

  “Is that so? I heard he had ordered all the dredging and harbour work that restored Antwerp’s ancient contact with the sea. I did not hear about Neuzen.”

  “The building of new docks and jetties were not only work. Neuzen was the port where much dredging on the Schelde was supplied. It has good harbour today.”

  “Then we might pick up a cargo for Nederlander to carry to Antwerp?”

  “Very likely. You need cargo?”

  “We need a reason to sail to the city. What might we find?”

  “Canal barges bring building stone from inland. This hoogaar might carry twenty tons.”

  Lord Bond nodded. “Enough to pose as a merchant looking for a profitable cargo. You could arrange it in Neuzen?”

  “I have contacts.”

  “What do you know of these French Royalists? They are not Flemish.”

  “The French and their siblings are everywhere. The Comte’s family are Arenbergs—Belgian aristocrats with connections to Austria since the Low Countries were a Hapsberg possession.”

  “I see. I must say you have a good grasp of the subject.”

  Van Aa laughed. “I was a school teacher before Napoleon’s king dismissed anyone who Fouché thought might not like France.”

  “Fouché, the Emperor’s spymaster?”

  “None other. He has been much to Bruxelles and Antwerp since the city regained its link to the sea. I was told your investigations are those secrets Fouché protects.”

  “Very likely. I am looking for information about the steamships.”

  “So we were told by the officers at the Admiralty, but they did not tell us why.”

  “The French steamships are very important to Napoleon’s invasion plans. When we penetrate these secrets, the Royal Navy will be able to defeat the invasion at sea.”

  Van Aa smiled. “Now I understand. If we learn nothing, England is invaded.”

  Lord Bond frowned. “Does that trouble you?”

  “Any success of Napoleon’s troubles me. When England defeats Napoleon, there will be a chance that Neuzen and Antwerp become Flemish once more . . . perhaps part of a new United Netherlands. Not that your fine friend Monsieur le Comte wishes that outcome—which makes his friends and ours poor allies to work together for you. But if we are freed from France again, I should have my school back.”

  Lord Bond had been aware that the French Royalists and the Flemish were only wartime friends but what van Aa said made him worry that neither were completely wedded to the plans the Admiralty followed. Lord Bond quickly tucked away and hid a renewed concern for the viability of his spying venture behind a ready agreement. “Yes. England will reward its friends, I am quite confident of that.” His smile soon faded. He feared the government would find difficulty paying off conflicting debts to different friends and allies it had bought in the campaigns.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Secrets of the Drawing Room

  Roberta enthusiastically joined in the applause as the last strains of the second piece by the German composer Mozart died away. The whole company gathered in the music room of Admiralty House began to speak at once, as the Viscountess Melville herself rose to go to the leader of the ensemble to congratulate him.

  It was a novel experience for Roberta to hear some of the most popular music of the age—particularly that of Herr Mozart whose work was considered somewhat sinful by the church in the north of England. She had heard some speak of Don Giovanni and of The Magic Flute in hushed voices and with pious expressions for their alleged devil worship and licentiousness—but the arrangements for the six piece ensemble here of some of those very arias had been delightful.

  “What did you think of the music?” her seat neighbour, Lady Penelope Finch, asked.

  “I thought it most moving and entertaining, My Lady.” Lady Penelope was about Roberta’s age and beginning to lose the bloom of youth. Her figure seemed quite plump under the exquisite gown she wore to the soiree.

  “Will you rise with me and come next door to look at the refreshment table?” Lady Penelope asked. “I believe there will be a brief intermission before we return to hear the string quartet play something by the Viennese composer Beethoven.”

  “Why, I would be delighted.”

  They had hardly moved from their seats when a gentleman in a garish suit of velvet jacket and striped breeches approached them. “Hey ho, Cousin Penny. Going to raid the food, are we?”

  “I will look at the refreshments and perhaps partake a little,” Lady Penelope answered with a frown. She took Roberta’s hand. “I suppose I had better introduce you to this ne’er-do-well relative of mine . . . since we are unlikely to be able to lose him in this small gathering. Miss Roberta Stephenson . . . please meet the Honourable Bertram Booster, my cousin not quite far enough removed, and the grand-nephew of the widow of the late Lord Doncaster.”

  Roberta dipped into a restrained curtsey in answer to his more casual bow.

  “Oh, don’t make an indictment of it, Penny, old thing. Miss Stephenson—” he regarded her carefully with his head cocked to one side, “pleased to meet you, I’m sure. Are you a member of the family here?”

  “No, Sir. A house guest in London from Scotland.”

  “Ah, but another Scot by your voice. I’m sure you will have a pleasant evening here with all the city gossip from my cousin as well as the music.”

  “Oh, do not speak ill, Bertram. Miss Stephenson will suppose I do nothing but sit in drawing rooms and listen to scandal.”

  “I would hate to give her any such impression,” he answered, “but not a word to my dear Great Aunt for the little contretemps of the other day. My tailor was quite pleased to make me another suit as soon as I wrote him a new IOU.” He paused as they took their turn to leave the music room and follow the other guests to the anteroom beside it where the tables were laden with food and drink. He peered in through the door over the heads of those in front. “I dare say most of the refreshments will be in shells or fillets, as usual.”

  Roberta smiled. “Well, Sir, this is the Admiralty after all. Perhaps bounty from the sea is no more than appropriate—and no doubt quite delicious.”

  “Yes. Spot on. What entertainments have you found in London, Miss Stephenson?”

  “I’m afraid I’m not here for entertainment, Sir. I came on an errand for my father’s business with the Admiralty.”

  He leaned back and presented the palms of his hands in mock horror. “An errand of business? You must be bound to put me to shame. It is known all over London and the Home Counties that Bertram Booster has never been entrusted with an errand nor performed a stroke of what might be called business in his whole life. What business, pray, does your father have with Their Lordships of Admiralty?”

  “My father is Mr. George Stephenson, the railway engineer and inventor, Sir. I come here on business for his shipyard on the Clyde.”

  The Hon. Bertram Booster’s eyes opened wide. “Ah—the noise and wonderful smeech of smoke—railways. I do love trains, such power, such speed. And now ships as well? Do tell.”

  “We build steamships on the Clyde, Sir.”

  “Steamships. How delightful . . . I should love to sail in one of them. The very thought of all that steam burned out of the water by huge fires of coal sends me into ecstasies of admiration. But do not tell me you partake of the practices yourself; as your words . . . ‘we build’ . . . suggest. I really will not have you tell me that your part of the enterprise is any nearer to the . . . machinery . . . than to stand on the quayside and wave as the ships sail past.”

  “Then in that case, Sir, I will speak no other.”

  Lady Penelope stood between them as they re
ached the table. “Bertram, would you go to the other table and find some of that fine Amontillado Lord Melville keeps. Miss Stephenson and I will find you some delicacies in shells and in fillets, and meet you over in that vacant corner by the window.”

  “No sooner said than done, old thing. I will take possession of as much sherry as I can—I’m sure our host sends frigates full of that nectar across the briny continuously from the vineyards of Spain. How lucky we are to have the Marquess of Wellington’s army taking possession of all the delights of the peninsula from those wretched French. More power to them, I say . . . .”

  He was still talking as he left their side and made his way to the other table. Lady Penelope smiled. “Don’t take any notice of Bertie, Miss Stephenson. He’s a harmless ass.”

  Roberta laughed. “I think him most entertaining, My Lady. I am not used to such jollity in the North—we are far too serious in our activities. Should we take some of these oysters . . . were they harvested in the correct month?”

  She assumed that the younger guests must be friends of the children of the First Lord’s family. She had met two of the older sons and one of the daughters as well as the smaller children; the eldest was not yet twenty. The senior members of the concert party included several peers as well as the Bishop of London and members of the Board of Admiralty. She noticed Lord Paulit across the room and curtseyed as he acknowledged her. He seemed intending to join her but was hotly engaged by two richly dressed ladies in some voluble conversation as they circulated through the gathering.

  When they rejoined the Honourable Bertram Booster, he continued to regale her with his ideas of steam and railways, and she did her best to listen with appropriate gravity to his fanciful explanations. “It seems to me that the railway companies are very wasteful, Miss Stephenson. Whenever I’m travelling and see the huge clouds of steam that escape from the workings I am almost apoplectic at the waste. I think the government should pass a law to oblige the engineers to collect the escaping steam and keep it in the boilers to use again—don’t you agree?”

  “That does seem a worthy desire, Sir. However, it does not completely take into account the difference in temperature of the steam in the boilers and that vented from the cylinders.”

  He stared at her as if she had suddenly transformed into a dressed up harlequin at a masque. “Temperature, you say? What do you mean, pray? Steam is all hot, is it not?”

  A voice sounded from behind them, and they turned to see Lord Paulit. “I’m told that the steam in the boiler is at over two hundred degrees of Fahrenheit, while that blown out from the cylinders of a railway locomotive as it leaves the station is barely warm enough to more than cover the onlookers with a moist fog.” He regarded Roberta with an ironic smile. “Is that what you meant, Miss Stephenson?”

  She tried to keep a neutral expression. Poor Booster seemed dumbfounded. “Fahrenheits; what are Fahrenheits, My Lord?”

  Lord Paulit took him confidentially by the arm. “Why, my dear fellow, I did not realize that you had such an abiding interest in steam propulsion. You may be very interested to know that the Admiralty has a great need of chaps like you to operate the steamships Miss Stephenson has designed. If you would come to the Admiralty tomorrow I could start you on a fascinating course of study. What do you say to that?”

  The Honourable Bertram Booster turned pale and almost dropped his glass of Amontillado. “Designed? Miss Stephenson? I’m really not sure, My Lord. Please let me look at my appointment calendar before I take up your generous offer.”

  Lady Penelope entered the conversation. “Why, Bertie, I think that is a wonderful offer. You must think seriously upon it.”

  “Yes. Perhaps so.” The Honourable Bertram Booster spoke little more—merely dealing with a platter of various delicacies in shells and listening astonished to the rest of the conversation.

  “I was hoping to have the opportunity to speak with you this evening, Miss Stephenson. The First Lord has asked me to accompany you when you visit the shipyard tomorrow to evaluate their proficiency. I do not pretend to be a source of great insight into the business, but His Lordship thought my presence would impart a degree of gravity to their consideration of the Admiralty’s interest in any offer of theirs you might accept.”

  “Why, thank you, My Lord. I will be most grateful for your presence at the meetings. I have never met any of the Thames-side shipbuilding engineers. Would a departure at ten be too early—we have quite a journey to the Isle of Dogs.”

  “Yes . . . ten o’ clock will be quite satisfactory. Has His Lordship offered a carriage?”

  “Yes, he has. I am extremely grateful for all his kindnesses to me.”

  “No more than is deserved, my dear. I must express how much I was impressed by my visit to your Spiteful at Chatham. We are anxious to see the construction of two more begin on the Thames as soon as possible.”

  With that he made his apologies and left them to speak with another gentleman at the refreshment table.

  “I believe that is Lord Liverpool’s son, the Member of Parliament,” Lady Penelope told her. “Bertie, you seem quite green about the gills. You have probably eaten refreshments enough. Please be a dear and go back to the music room and see when the music will resume.”

  The Hon. Bertie Booster wobbled away across the room as if the technical discussion had completely upset his buoyancy. Lady Penelope guided Roberta to an even more remote corner of the room. “I do believe your business with the Admiralty means you must be the mystery woman who came to town with Lord Bond in July. Please tell me if that is so.”

  “I did not think I was considered any mystery, Lady Penelope. But it is true that I came from Dover on Admiralty business in Lord Bond’s company at that time.”

  “Do call me Penny. All my friends do.” She smiled as they seated themselves on a chaise longue beside a window. “You also went to Almack’s rooms at that time?”

  “Yes . . . we did. My Aunt and I accepted Lord Bond’s invitation and accompanied him there. I’m astounded to consider that our presence was that well noticed by fashionable London.”

  “Ahah. Now you do, but the gossip was mostly focused on His Lordship. You are aware that he is forbidden entrance to Almack’s since the difficulties of 1810?”

  “I was not aware of any difficulties, Lady Penny.”

  That lady smiled and leaned closer to speak in a more confidential voice. “You have not heard of the breach of promise, then?”

  “I was told something of the sort, but I doubted my informant’s veracity.”

  “All true. It cost the Marquess a thousand pounds to settle the case, and the young lady in question is now the wife of a prominent member of the Commons. But there is more. Not content with that escapade, the following year there was the worse scandal of the . . . ,” she paused to glance about them before leaning closer to whisper, “elopement!”

  Roberta’s heart jumped. “Surely not.”

  “It is said that they were apprehended before they had gone but a day’s carriage ride from the city—so no harm done—if you see what I mean. But that was more than the Ladies of Almack’s could tolerate—he has been barred from the balls ever since. That is why he waited until the City function before attending another ball in the premises. Did you meet his half-brother there?”

  “Half-brother? Who do you mean?”

  “Why Mr. Holmes, of course. Surely you did meet him—I was told he became a member of your party.”

  “Why, yes, he did, but I do not understand your calling him half-brother.”

  “Because that is what they are—although Mr. Holmes was conceived on the wrong side of the blanket. He lives with his mother in Kent when not in London. She is a veritable dragon, I understand.”

  At this moment Viscount Melville’s butler entered the room and informed everyone that they should resume their seats as the music was about to begin. Roberta returned to her seat beside Lady Penny with her thoughts in a whirl. Were these stories true? From what
she had already been told, it seemed all too likely that they were.

  She hardly heard the next music. She had to change course from discounting whatever she was told of Lord Bond to attaining a stance whereby she might believe almost anything of him. And poor Mr. Holmes. How cruel the world was to innocents who suffered calumny not of their own begetting. No wonder his attentions to her seemed so marked with irresolution. She was told that such men were torn between an aversion to all women, and a fear of their regard being rebuffed.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Contract Discussions

  Roberta rode in an open barouche to the Isle of Dogs with Lord Paulit and an Admiralty clerk named Wilson on a fine Thursday morning, the second of September. Once they left the city proper at the Tower of London, they drove through Wapping, Stepney, and Limehouse before turning south and crossing the lifting bridges over the exit basins of the new West Indian Docks to the West Ferry Road.

  Lord Paulit pointed out the long line of five storey warehouses of the unloading docks, almost invisible behind a veritable forest of masts and yards of perhaps as many as two hundred vessels. “The north dock is called the unloading dock,” he said. “When a ship discharges its cargo into the warehouses, it leaves the dock by the Limehouse Basin, where we have just crossed, and sails down the river to the entrance of the south dock—which is the loading dock. There it picks up a new cargo for its outward voyage. Of course, we could see more of the activity of the docks if it weren’t for the twenty foot high walls surrounding the whole dock complex.”

  “The activity in the docks is secret?” Roberta asked.

  Lord Paulit and the clerk laughed. “Secret from smugglers and thieves, most certainly. One of the incentives for the immense work of dredging and building was to reduce the amount of property stolen from cargoes unloaded at older quays along the river.”