A Battle Won

by Sean Thomas Russell

  Thus it was later in the afternoon that Hayden found an excuse to venture ashore, ostensibly to deliver some papers personally. No reply had been forthcoming from Lady Hertle, which made him think that his note had gone astray or that Lady Hertle was not at home that day. Once his errand had been dispatched, Hayden resolved to make the short walk up to Lady Hertle’s residence, all the while preserving hopes that the good widow was out visiting with her niece, Henrietta, and that upon their return they would be overcome with delight to discover he had returned, months in advance of his most optimistic predictions.

  The door was answered by Lady Hertle’s footman – the same old seaman Hayden remembered from his earliest visit. The man, who in the past had always appeared pleased to see him maintained, this morning, a stony dignity.

  ‘My note of this morning to Lady Hertle has gone unanswered,’ Hayden explained, ‘which led me to believe it had gone astray or that Lady Hertle was not at home. I have taken the great liberty of presenting myself at her door, in hopes that I might send up my card.’

  ‘I shall inform Lady Hertle of your request, sir, if you will wait.’ Instead of granting Hayden entrance, he then closed the door and left a surprised Hayden standing upon the step.

  A few moments he waited thus, both embarrassed and confused by this unusual treatment, before the servant returned.

  ‘Lady Hertle is indisposed,’ the man informed him, his face betraying not the least emotion.

  ‘I am sorry to hear it,’ Hayden answered. ‘May I leave a note for her?’

  ‘She has your note of this morning, Captain. I hardly think you need disturb her with another.’

  Hayden was so surprised by this he hardly knew what to say. Before he could form a reply, the servant spoke again.

  ‘Good day, sir,’ he said, and shut the door.

  For a moment Hayden stood there, injured and confused, and then terribly, terribly alarmed. Lady Hertle had ever been pleased to see him, and his great ally in his courtship of her niece. To be treated thus… it bespoke the most awful possibilities.

  Hayden returned his ship, unable to focus his mind or energies on the thousand tasks that required his attention. Finally, upon a very insistent enquiry by a concerned Mr Hawthorne, he admitted what had occurred.

  ‘You must speak to Miss Henrietta, immediately,’ Hawthorne said, ‘and put to rest your fears.’

  ‘I cannot leave my ship – not for several days.’

  The two sat in the great cabin, Hayden so anxious and distressed he could hardly keep to his chair.

  ‘If I am to believe you, Captain,’ Hawthorne observed, ‘it is not your ship. Archer is more than capable of doing all that is required, in any event.’

  ‘I have given Mr Archer leave to visit his family.’

  Hawthorne bounced up. ‘Let me have a word with our young lieutenant.’

  Ten minutes later the marine was back.

  ‘All is arranged. Mr Archer has agreed to delay visiting his family. There is a late coach which shall see you in London Wednesday morning before first light. That affords you full two hours to prepare. In what manner might I assist?’

  In short order, Hayden took leave of his remaining officers, all attempting to hide their own anxieties about the future, which occasioned a great sense of guilt within Hayden, who felt ashamed that he had been so preoccupied with his own matters that he had forgotten his shipmates. Not a single officer aboard was the least certain of returning to the Themis, or any other ship for that matter.

  Feeling like a truant, Hayden boarded the coach for London, taking a seat outside in less than promising weather. The physical discomfort of the journey was nothing to the mental anguish he experienced. Why would Lady Hertle, who treated him as a nephew, snub him so cruelly? Certainly he had been irresolute in his courtship of her niece, but not unforgivably so or so he had thought. In truth, he often believed that Lady Hertle comprehended the reasons for this better than others – approved it, even. And Henrietta had said on more than one occasion that she did not believe in precipitate courtships or impulsive offers of marriage. As this was the one sin that could be laid at his door in regards to Henrietta, he was utterly unable to explain Lady Hertle’s treatment of him.

  A gale forced him into oilskins, and chilled him through, until he shivered uncontrollably, more susceptible to the cold, somehow, since his near drowning in the winter Atlantic. By the time the coach reached the outskirts of London, Hayden, who had hardly slept the entire thirty-six hours, was utterly spent, both physically and emotionally, and his nerves in such a state that he could hardly think what to do.

  Alighting from the coach, it was too early to present himself at the home of Robert and Elizabeth, who he hoped might shed some light on what had occurred with Lady Hertle, but also, more importantly, know the whereabouts of Henrietta. As he hoped to press his suit at the first possible opportunity, he had resolved to speak with his prize agents that morning so that he might have a better idea of how his finances sat, before embarking on married life.

  Sending his baggage on to the inn where he customarily resided when in the city, he broke his fast at the coaching inn, and then walked the half-mile to his prize agent’s, arriving before their hours of business. A bleak half-hour was consumed wandering the nearby streets until the prize agent’s office opened.

  A young clerk went off to announce him to his employer, who Hayden was certain would be pleased to see him, given his recent good fortune. He was, immediately, ushered into the office of Mr Reginald Harris, who rose, a broad smile overspreading his thin face.

  ‘May I offer my most heartfelt congratulations, Captain Hayden. I must declare you one of the most fortunate men in all of England.’

  Hayden felt at least some release of anxiety. ‘Thank you, sir. Have we received so much for the sale of the Dragoon?’

  The look on the prize agent’s face changed, becoming a bit amused and wary, as though he thought Hayden practised upon him. ‘I am referring to your marriage, of course.’

  It was Hayden’s turn to be confused. ‘My marriage? I believe these congratulations are premature, Mr Harris, as I have only recently determined to ask for the hand of a certain lady.’

  Bemusement changed to confusion. ‘Do you jest, sir?’

  ‘In no way.’

  The man seemed unwilling to accept Hayden’s meaning. ‘You have not recently married in Gibraltar?’

  ‘I have not. Whatever are you talking about?’

  Harris slumped down in a chair, an air of utter misery overcoming him. ‘This is the worst possible news.’ He tried to speak a moment but could not find words. Finally he said very softly. ‘I have advanced monies to a woman – to a woman and her mother – who claimed to be your wife, recently married. She produced a certificate to that effect, from Gibraltar, and a letter from yourself, requesting that I advance her funds against your prizes.’

  If the man had produced a pocket-pistol and shot him, Hayden could not have been more staggered. ‘But… you do not advance funds against prize money. That is your policy – “strict and invariable”, as I have been informed on numerous occasions.’

  The man nodded agreement, a hand rising to his forehead. ‘We do not, but in this case, Madam Bourdage and her daughter were in such unmistakable distress… and we were so certain of receiving a handsome sum for the Dragoon…’

  Hayden closed his eyes – the extent of his folly suddenly overtaking him. ‘And Madame and Héloise Bourdage were so very beautiful and apparently guileless…’

  The man looked up. ‘You know them, then?’

  ‘Yes, I aided them after they had been evacuated from Toulon. It was through my agency they were carried safely to England.’ Hayden so wanted to sit but did not. ‘And thus I have been repaid.’

  The agent almost brightened a little, a predatory look in his eye. ‘Well, Captain Hayden, if you aided them in coming to England, then you must bear some of the responsibility –’

  ‘I bear none of it!�
�� Hayden interrupted, his considerable temper unchecked by lack of rest. ‘I made no request that you advance funds to Madame Bourdage, nor for a moment did it ever occur to me that you would do such a thing as it is against your express policy.’

  ‘Did you or did you not provide them with a letter of introduction?’

  ‘Indeed I did, as I have done for many another. The letter said nothing of Héloise Bourdage being my wife, but was only a general letter of introduction – the sort gentlemen write every day.’

  The man waved a hand, as though sweeping this statement away. ‘There it is then, by your own admission.’

  ‘Whatever can you mean, sir? I played no part in this deception that has been perpetrated against your company. It is entirely your own error.’

  ‘I will consult our solicitor, but I am quite certain that we shall not pay you this six hundred pounds twice.’

  ‘Six hundred pounds!’ Hayden put a hand to a chair back. ‘I will consult my barrister, for I do not require you to advance me the monies twice. Once will be more than adequate. It is entirely upon your head if you have given money to impostors. Certainly every officer whom you represent trusts that you will not give their prize money away to anyone coming through the door and laying claim to it. Admit it, sir, you were taken in by their beauty and their very accomplished acting.’

  ‘As were you, sir.’

  ‘Yes, much to my regret, but as I was no part of their scheme, and only an innocent victim, you cannot attach any of the blame to me.’

  ‘We shall see, Captain Hayden.’

  ‘Indeed we shall.’

  Hayden exited the prize agent’s and hurried north towards the home of Robert and Elizabeth Hertle. His fears grew with each step, until he was almost running along the paving stones. Oh, how he regretted helping these women! And listening to Sir Gilbert Elliot, who had requested this favour. Now he would be embroiled in a suit in the courts – all because he had attempted to rescue two women who appeared to be in the greatest possible distress. If only he could discover them before they spent the whole of the six hundred pounds, then he could bring the law down upon them.

  The distance to Robert’s home was covered in record time, and Hayden found himself tugging on the bellpull at a very early hour. A moment later, Anne answered the door, and Hayden felt so relieved to see this servant, who had known him many years.

  ‘Anne, I cannot tell you how relieved I am to see you. Please tell me that Captain or Mrs Hertle are within, or that Miss Henrietta is visiting?’

  Anne appeared more than surprised to see him; she almost swayed back a little on her feet. Immediately she recovered but offered no smile or greeting, which only added to Hayden’s distress.

  ‘Captain Hertle is upon his ship, sir,’ she informed him. ‘Mrs Hertle is at home, though it is very early, sir, if I may say so.’

  ‘Indeed, and I am sorry for it. Will you inform Mrs Hertle that I am here and request the honour of speaking with her immediately upon a matter of the utmost importance?’

  ‘I shall, sir.’

  For the second time in three days, a door, which had always been opened to him, was shut in his face and he was left outside, rocking from one foot to the other.

  Anne was absent for so long he began to think that he was to be left there with no response or explanation, which he knew would cause more injury than he might bear. Finally after more than a quarter of an hour, Anne appeared again – not Elizabeth as he’d hoped – and thrust a note into his hand. She made no other explanation but retreated immediately, closing the door behind her.

  With a growing sense of dread, Hayden broke the seal and unfolded the stiff paper and read:

  How could you ever have been so pitiless and cruel? I do not wish to receive you, Captain Hayden, not today nor at any other time, nor do I wish any communication from you.

  There was no signature, but Hayden knew Elizabeth’s hand. He pressed three fingers gently to his brow and closed his eyes a moment. Clearly news of his alleged marriage to Héloise Bourdage had reached all of the people it should not. He thought of pulling the bell again, but decided instead to retire to his inn, where he might collect his thoughts, and write a letter to Elizabeth that he dearly hoped she would read.

  Poor Henrietta, he thought. Certainly she must not have wanted to believe that he had married on some impulse, but then, no doubt, reports of the striking beauty of Héloise Bourdage would have reached her… Many a man would have been swayed by such beauty, despite any other attachments or commitments. Had Henrietta, by some stroke of ill luck, set eyes upon Héloise?

  He was, in short order, at his inn, where he was met by the owner.

  ‘May I offer my congratulations, Captain Hayden,’ the man said.

  Hayden was forced to lean against the wall, so exhausted was he. ‘How do you know of this?’

  ‘Why, Mrs Hayden and her mother stayed here a fortnight. I have never met more gracious or lovely women, if I may say so.’

  ‘And they paid for none of it, I assume?’

  The man looked somewhat taken aback by this. ‘Your own wife, sir? Of course not. They have received quite a lot of post, sir. Shall I fetch it?’

  ‘Yes, why not.’

  Hayden was not the least surprised to find a sheaf of bills from creditors – milliners, clothiers. Madam Bourdage and her daughter had bought shoes and trunks and all manner of apparel. Clearly they dined in great style, dressed in the height of fashion, and spared no expense when it came to entertainment. And they were gone. Had been so for some time. Hayden expected that they had not only quit London but England as well.

  All told, their bills amounted to something over three hundred pounds – almost three years of his income! A visit to Mr Archer’s brother, the barrister, would be the next order of business.

  Before he had the heart to inform his innkeeper that he had not, in fact, married while away, he was told that a gentleman enquired after him. Expecting yet another creditor with some claim on his limited funds, he descended the stairs and was let into a small sitting room where a man perched on a chair, a hat on his knee.

  ‘Captain Charles Hayden?’

  ‘I am,’ Hayden admitted, though at that moment he wished he could say otherwise.

  ‘Henry Morton. My services have been engaged by the prize agent Mr Reginald Harris. I am a thief-taker.’

  Hayden sat and the man followed suit.

  ‘I am to search for two women who apparently have perpetrated a fraud upon Mr Harris, stealing from him a substantial sum. May I ask, Captain, how you came to know these women?’

  ‘I am not sure, Mr Morton, that I am inclined to answer your question, as my prize agent, this very morning, informed me that I would be liable for the monies these women have taken from him – fraudulently taken from him – though it was done without my knowledge, or my permission, and while I was absent from England.’

  The man leaned a little closer. ‘You do comprehend, Captain Hayden, that were your name to be attached to this crime in any way it would go very seriously against you? The punishment for theft of such magnitude is hanging, sir.’

  ‘I cannot be implicated, Mr Morton, as I have just learned of it this morning. But it does not seem to matter to Mr Harris, who informed me that the full six hundred pounds would come out of my prize money, whether I was aware of the crime or not.’

  ‘The affairs of Mr Harris and yourself are no concern of mine, Captain. I have been engaged only to discover Madam Bourdage and her daughter. Perhaps, if I can find them and prove that they alone perpetrated this fraud, then you will be cleared and this will aid you in the matter of Mr Harris and the six hundred pounds. How did you first meet Madam Bourdage and her daughter?’

  There seemed to be, in this interview, a certain inevitability, and Hayden was encouraged to learn that Harris was making a serious attempt to recover the monies, which would appear to indicate he had little faith in winning a lawsuit against Hayden. Taking a deep breath, Hayden let it out i
n an embarrassingly theatrical sigh, and answered, ‘I had just come from speaking with Admiral Lord Hood upon the Victory, and had made the acquaintance of Princess Marie, who was fleeing the Jacobins.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘It is of no import. Madame Bourdage and her daughter were on the upper deck among the refugees who had evacuated Toulon. They overheard me speak French, promising to rescue Princess Marie.’ His voice thickened. ‘Immediately, they knew me for what I was.’

  Twenty-one

  Percival Archer, KC – the very brother of Lieutenant Archer, who had advised so many of the Themis’s officers throughout the recent court martial – listened to the final words of Hayden’s account with all of the disinterest of a judge trying a man for murder. Not once during Hayden’s narrative did this neutrality of countenance show the least sign of transforming. And now he regarded Hayden with a distressing, reproachful silence, which had the effect of making Hayden feel even more a fool.

  ‘You do realize, Captain Hayden, that I am not a solicitor and my opinion on this matter may be less than authoritative?’

  ‘I trust your judgement completely.’

  A quick gulp of air. ‘Your prize agent, Mr Reginald Harris, fell victim to a deception,’ Archer began, ‘and violated his own stated principles by advancing funds not yet received from the prize court. I do not believe a court of law will hold you in any way responsible for his folly. Immediately – this very morning – you should notify both your prize agent and the prize court that this gentleman no longer represents your interests and has no legal right to collect monies on your behalf. This should be done in writing. Such a step is justified by Mr Harris’s foolishly paying out money on your account, without your permission, to complete strangers. As to the debts of Madam… what was her name?’