A Battle Won

by Sean Thomas Russell

  ‘Bourdage.’

  ‘The debts of Madam Bourdage and her daughter… we do not yet know their full extent. It appears they are many and various and might not all come to light for some time. You must place notices in the Times and the Chronicle warning merchants and shopkeepers that Mademoiselle Bourdage is not your wife and stating that you will not honour any debts accrued by her or her mother. I will instruct you in the precise wording. I fear, however, that you shall be forced into court more times than you would like by diverse merchants and innkeepers who have been victimized by the charms of these women, which are, apparently, considerable.’

  ‘Certainly I was deceived.’

  ‘As was as formidable a gentleman as Sir Gilbert Elliot, if that draws a little of the sting from it.’ The barrister made a sour face. ‘I think you will win all of these various actions but I fear your legal fees might be considerable if numerous merchants come forward with claims.’

  ‘I should rather give the money to you than pay the debts of those two women – though I do feel compassion for their victims, among whom I count myself.’

  ‘They have certainly placed you in a most difficult situation but we will take on these creditors one at a time, and, I dare say, we will rebuff most if not all of their claims. I will not lie and tell you this will be easy or pleasant, but I believe, in the end, we will prevail. Set your mind at ease on that score.’ He tried to smile. ‘May I ask you a question, Captain, on another matter entirely?’ An upward gesture with a hand. ‘That is, if we have concluded this business.’

  ‘Yes, certainly.’

  ‘How progresses my younger brother’s career? I ask this out of the most profound concern for his future and well-being.’

  Hayden was a bit surprised that his legal situation, which seemed utterly impossible and complex to him, had been so summarily dispatched. The barrister’s assurances, though welcome, had done very little to relieve the dismay he felt but he hoped the much-looked-for relief of this anxiety would arrive shortly. ‘I believe Mr Archer’s career progresses apace. I have noted a marked increase in zeal in your brother since Captain Hart quit our ship. Indeed, he has proven something of a revelation, these last months. I have come to believe he will make an exemplary officer.’

  ‘I suspect you did not hold this opinion formerly…’

  ‘Situations alter, as do men. I am very pleased with his progress.’

  ‘I am happy to hear it. In truth, I am relieved. He has long been a worry to me. Perhaps Ben has told you that I am his legal guardian – or was?’

  ‘I did not know.’

  ‘Since the death of his mother. We are but stepbrothers, Ben and I. Our father passed on some years ago and then his mother followed – far too young. As I am his elder by just shy of fifteen years, I became his guardian. He seemed inclined to do little, lest the reading of rather tawdry adventure novels is now counted a vocation, so I pressed him to choose a more pragmatic path. To my great astonishment, he chose the Navy. This was, to my way of thinking, a rather misguided decision, as it seemed to me nothing could be further from his nature than such regimentation, but he had some romantical idea of going to sea and I eventually gave my consent. It has always been my belief that young men should be allowed to make their own mistakes’ – a quick smile – ‘and then employ lawyers to extricate them. I found him a position with Captain Hart through the agency of friends. It was, I now realize, a grave error. My brother, who has always been rather… contained within himself, became even more so. I thought him deeply unhappy and expected him to give up this foolish idea at any moment. I still marvel that he did not. And now you tell me he might become an exemplary officer. I rather expected his fate was to be an author of tawdry adventure novels – a good-natured ne’r-do-well. After but a few years in my profession, you come to believe that human beings can no longer surprise you – but my own brother has done just that.’

  ‘He has not lost his taste for reading, I will tell you, but he was not alone in that pursuit aboard our ship. Our midshipmen formed a debating society and read all manner of books and pamphlets so that they might argue their merits and demerits. Your brother joined in with great enthusiasm. But I do not think that reading is harmful unless one is inclined to believe everything cast into print.’

  For a moment the barrister’s mask of neutrality seemed about to be cast aside, as a little tide of emotion swept over him. Instead, he produced a sheet of paper and a pen.

  ‘Let us make certain of the wording of the notice that should be placed in the papers, and write the letters to your agent and to the prize court. Tell me again the names of these women?’

  Before he could speak, Hayden’s stomach growled loudly in response.

  ‘Do excuse me,’ Hayden said.

  Archer did not raise his head. ‘Bourdon?’ he asked.

  ‘Bourdage.’

  Twenty-two

  Hayden could not remember feeling so ineffectual. Above all things, he must speak with Henrietta and that was the one thing he was utterly unable to do. Where she was, he did not know and there appeared to be no way of discovering her present location. It was like being becalmed on a glassy sea when one desperately needed to reach a nearby harbour. One spent every second watching the horizon, the sky, praying for any sign of a breeze, even a zephyr. A man in such a situation could be reduced to willing the wind to appear – and there was hardly any endeavour more futile.

  If only Elizabeth Hertle would consent to see him… but she would not. He was not certain she remained in London (was she with Henrietta?). Hayden could not believe that Robert would not grant him a hearing – their lifelong friendship would entitle him to that – but Robert was at sea and beyond reach or recall.

  It had occurred to Hayden that the agency of a mutual friend was required but the two people with whom Hayden was acquainted well enough to ask such a favour could not be found. His frustration was all but unbearable.

  As a result, he was reduced to writing letters of the rather pathetic pleading variety. Mrs Robert Hertle he did not think would read any letter originating with him, but Hayden was too aware that a letter sent to Robert might not find his ship for weeks, perhaps months – far more time than he could possibly wait. Certainly he could write to Henrietta at her family home, but there was hardly any guarantee that she would be in residence there, or that she would open such a letter if she were. Her well-meaning family might even withhold it, for all Hayden knew.

  If only Robert were in London! The worst of all this was that all misunderstandings could, he believed, be easily swept aside by a simple explanation. He had not married Mademoiselle Bourdage – he was merely the victim of a deception.

  Perhaps Mrs Hertle or some friend might find his notice in the papers and inform Henrietta. The frustration of it was that the notice would not appear for full three days.

  Again, he took a seat at his small writing table and dipped his quill in ink.

  Dear Robert:

  I trust, you, in the name or our long friendship, will do me the honour of hearing me out. I have been the victim of the most scandalous fraud. Two French émigrées – a Madame Bourdage and her daughter Héloise Bourdage – have been claiming that I married this young woman in Gibraltar. They have even produced some falsified licence to verify their claim. Nothing could be farther from the truth. The worst of this is, at the request of a man of some consequence, I claimed these women were relations of my mother’s so that they might then travel to England. In other words, I perjured myself, after their escape from Toulon, so that they might find a place of safety. And for this they have rewarded me by running up tremendous debts in my name, convincing my prize agent to advance them monies not yet paid out by the prize court (from Harris, if you can believe it!), and generally ruining my good name. I have engaged the services of a barrister to deal with all the creditors and Mr Harris, who is attempting to hold me responsible for his act of folly.

  All of this, however, is of small matter. What pains me
above all things is that Miss Henrietta somehow learned of these women and their claims and believes that I did marry this young émigrée. At least so I imagine. I cannot discover the whereabouts of Miss Henrietta to have an explanation with her, nor will Mrs Hertle or Lady Hertle receive me or read my correspondence. Had I been guilty of this heartless act, I could not blame them, but my actions have been blameless, if a little naive.

  Please, Robert, I beg you, write to Mrs Hertle and Miss Henrietta at the first opportunity and inform them of my situation. I can hardly bear to be treated like some callous rogue for much longer. I cannot explain it, but accused of some terrible act long enough, even an innocent man begins to feel guilt.

  Your servant,

  After a careful reading Hayden deemed the letter acceptable, folded it, sealed it with wax, and addressed it, taking time to read the address twice lest he made some error that would send it astray.

  For a moment he leaned his weight against the chair back and stared out of the window. Clocks began to chime at that very moment. Three of a morning. Sleep, never a commodity easily procured, had become even more rare. He was, at once, unable to sleep, and almost overwhelmed by fatigue.

  ‘Always torn in two,’ he whispered to the room.

  He reached out and slid before him an undefiled sheet of paper. For a long moment he stared at its pristine surface, wondering what words he might place there to somehow, magically, make Henrietta open the letter. Would she open it out of curiosity? Out of regard for him? Or would she simply toss it in the fire?

  ‘She will give me a chance,’ he said aloud. ‘In her heart she must know that I could not so betray her.’

  But barely a moment later he was not so certain.

  A half-hour of pacing over the creaking floor was required but then he took his seat again before the empty page.

  My Dear Henrietta:

  Before anything else is said, I must inform you, all rumours that I married while parted from you are utterly untrue. No such thing occurred. Two women, French émigrées, mother and daughter, have been making this false claim and using my name to amass a vast quantity of debt, and to acquire substantial sums from my prize agent. Neither Lady Hertle nor Mrs Hertle will speak with me or read any correspondence I write, so I have been at my wits’ end to find some way to send you word of what has occurred. I am also very dismayed to think that the claims of these two women have caused you distress. The worst of all this is, that, at the request of Sir Gilbert Elliot, I aided these two women in coming to England and they have repaid my kindness by using my name to defraud any number of merchants and my prize agent and to cause you pain. Seldom has a good deed been so unjustly repaid.

  I do hope you will read this and understand that I did not betray your trust in any measure and that my heart has not changed in the least these past months except that it is even more your own.

  This letter was not so easily dispatched and was written twice more, though it actually varied little, before Hayden was prepared to commit it to the post. London had begun to shift restively by this time, waking slowly, the grinding wheels of tradesmen’s carts and delivery drays echoing along the still darkened streets.

  Hayden lay down again in his narrow bed, and for a time hoped that either the notice in the papers or the letters he had written would bear fruit. A brief, troubled sleep crept over him and he tossed and rolled like a ship on the sea.

  London had not long risen when Hayden sent his letter off to Mrs Hertle by a servant of his landlord’s and entrusted his other letters to the post. All through the morning he waited, hoping that Elizabeth would relent and read his letter. That was all he asked – that someone would give him a fair hearing.

  Twice, letters were delivered to the inn, and the post came as well, but no one brought word to him; nor did his enquiries produce the desired results. He paced. He ate little. Gazed hopefully out of the window. Then paced again.

  About two of the afternoon, when he sat trying to fix his mind upon a book, he heard a footfall upon the stair and then a knock at his door. Having decided that it was better not to live in expectation every moment, Hayden was quite surprised. Springing to the door he found the landlord’s daughter bearing a letter.

  ‘The letter you have been awaiting,’ the girl said with a curtsy.

  Very deliberately Hayden did not snatch it up, but retrieved it with an air of equanimity he did not feel. He thanked the girl, gently pushed his door to, and tore the letter open with his fingers.

  It was from Philip Stephens, First Secretary of the Navy. His presence was requested at the admiralty – at his earliest convenience.

  The dun brick structure that housed the Admiralty was, by day, ever a scene of blue-coated bustle. The carriage gate and gates that allowed the entrance of men on foot were almost never passed without a polite moment of allowing others to exit or enter before. Beyond, in the courtyard, irregular circles of officers formed here and there, largely by rank, though not exclusively so. Sailors went to and fro bearing messages and names were called out across the yard as sea officers greeted their fellows, some of whom had not been seen in months or years.

  Hayden’s name, however, was not called, and he crossed the courtyard apparently without anyone being aware that he existed. The First Secretary, he was informed, would see him at the first opportunity and Hayden found a convenient column to lean against while he awaited Mr Stephen’s favour.

  Many another’s name was announced while Hayden loitered, becoming more embarrassed by the moment… as though he were of so little consequence he had been forgotten. Just when he became convinced that, indeed, that was the case, and he would have to submit his name once again, it was, miraculously, declared.

  He was quickly upon the stair among the throng of officers coming and going. Here, someone did call his name, and though Hayden raised a hand in response, he was never certain who it had been. With his heart pounding from more than the exertion, Hayden was ushered into the room of Philip Stephens, First Secretary to the Admiralty.

  Since their last meeting, a few days before the now infamous court martial of the Themis’s officers, Stephens appeared little changed. The same inflamed arteries afflicted a bulbous nose. The same spectacles sat, slightly askew, upon his narrow face. Immediately the First Secretary rose to greet him, emerging briefly from behind his desk, then retreating there again. Both lowered themselves into chairs, and Stephens, who had removed his spectacles, gazed at him a moment with the same emotionless stare that Hayden well remembered. Men would commonly size up a cut of beef with more feeling.

  ‘Are you well, Captain Hayden?’

  ‘Very well, sir. I hope you are the same.’

  The First Secretary made a noncommital little shrug. ‘I understand you are embroiled in some legal troubles?’

  How Stephens knew of this Hayden could not say. Had the story been so quickly circulated?

  ‘It appears I am, though a very reputable barrister assures me that I will not be held responsible for any of it.’

  ‘Well, it is nothing to the service, thankfully. I do hope it turns out well. Such matters are invariably unpleasant and rob us of much-needed sleep.’ Stephens produced a square of linen and began the familiar ritual of cleaning his spectacles. ‘I do hope your barrister can take the matter entirely in hand. I have arranged to send you back to sea…’ the hands stopped working the linen… ‘immediately.’

  ‘But I cannot possibly leave England!’ Hayden blurted out. ‘There are matters that require my entire attention.’

  ‘And why is that, pray?’ Stephens asked, his mouth turning down but a little.

  ‘It is this legal matter you have mentioned. Well, not precisely that, but it has unfortunately spilled over into my private life. There are matters I must attend to – matters of the greatest urgency.’

  Stephens sat back a little in his chair, steepled his fingers just as Hayden remembered, and regarded him cooly. ‘I will tell you in all honesty, Captain, there is but one route
that will carry you to the destination you desire – making your post. That route involves proving to the Lords Commissioners that you are thrice worthy of this rank. You must prove yourself and then prove yourself again, and yet once more until the powers that be can have no choice but to grant you your post. My position will not allow me to explain further, but if you do not accept this commission, Captain Hayden, it may never be within my power to offer you anything like it again. I will own that I have secured you this position at no small… sacrifice to myself.’ The steepled fingers flexed once. The gaze did not falter.

  Hayden had so few supporters in the service, he could not afford to alienate the most powerful and steadfast, even if the First Secretary’s efforts often seemed to produce mixed results. It was very clear that Stephens’s continued support depended on Hayden’s full co-operation.

  In a voice both small and dry, Hayden replied, ‘Of course. I accept it most gratefully. Excuse my… my hesitation.’

  For a moment the First Secretary said nothing. ‘There is a French frigate inflicting substantial losses among the ships of our merchant fleet. For some time now we have been endeavouring to discover from where it sails, with little result. Most recently, however, it has come to light that it is almost certainly sailing from Le Havre. Are you familiar with this port?’

  ‘I am,’ Hayden answered, his mouth going unaccountably dry.

  ‘So I hoped. It will be upon you to take this frigate a prize or destroy it. The sooner this is managed the better.’

  ‘What ship shall I be given?’

  Stephens looked mildly surprised by this question. ‘The Themis, of course. It is to your great good fortune that no other will have her. I should never have been able to secure you such a vessel without your post.’

  Hayden’s mind was racing. ‘I will need to gather my crew.’

  ‘They are all speeding towards Plymouth as we speak,’ the secretary informed him, ‘and your lieutenants have been busily watering and taking aboard stores. I believe you shall find your ship ready to sail or very nearly so. I suggest you secure a place upon the mail coach this evening. I want you at sea – and beyond recall – as soon as can be arranged. Is that understood?’