by Griff Hosker
When he had gone, Sir Arthur shook his head, “Rum fellow, what?” I said nothing. Whatever I said might be wrong. “Some of my other officers have been invited to a ball. Lord Ferrers is holding it. It might be an opportunity for you to get to know them, informally, of course.” He scribbled on a piece of paper. “It is in a few days’ time. Here is the address and I have added the date. My signature should get you admitted.” He smiled, “Of course, you and Selkirk are so cunning I daresay you could inveigle yourself without much trouble, eh? You have until noon. I need the room for a meeting later. If you need anything send your fellow to Dighton.” Nodding to me he said, “I shall see you at Lord Ferrers then!”
When he had gone, I called for Sharp. “We have a map to copy.” I nodded to the table where there were writing and drawing supplies. “We will both make one. It is always handy to have a spare.”
We left before noon. There was less detail on the map than I had expected. Sharp and I would have a great number of gaps to fill. Sir Arthur had thoughtfully provided us with a leather tube for the map. When we reached Wells Street, we changed into our number twos. Our best uniforms had escaped damage from both food and drink. Taking the maps, we left one in the tube and studied the other.
“It is a big country, sir.”
“They are two big countries and there are precious few roads. We will need to buy clothes in Lisbon to help us blend in.”
“The Froggies are a bit funny about locals, sir. If we get caught, we might get shot.”
I nodded, “And that is why we will just get clothes to cover our uniforms.”
Sharp nodded, “That is why you wanted Iberian horses eh, sir?”
“Badger is too fine a horse to die in Iberia. I suspect our horses will be ridden hard.”
That evening we met with Jenkins. His news was not what I expected. “So, did our friend follow us to Aspley House then?”
“No, sir, that was the funny thing. He didn’t. I had to go looking for him. I found him close to the shops in Piccadilly. He was following a woman, sir. She was beautiful. She had a carriage but she seemed to be stopping at lots of shops. She went to that bloke you saw, Mr Hudson. Then she went back to a big house on Piccadilly, number one hundred and six. The Highlander looked to be done for the day. I followed him and he has digs in The Rookery.”
That was interesting. Whoever employed this Scot was someone who was not just interested in me. Who was this woman and what connected us? I wondered if Jenkins and the soldier had crossed paths before. “You hadn’t seen him before?”
Jenkins laughed, “The Rookery is like a rabbit warren, sir. There are some disreputable types live there, sir. If the law comes, they can leg it as quick as, sir.”
I nodded, “Tomorrow we will be going into the country. Our Scottish friend can follow us if he likes. I am unconcerned. Try to find out what you can about him. You know the sort of thing. Say you were looking for a friend from your time in the army. Be careful. If he confronts you then make up a name and a place.”
“Don’t worry, sir. I have my mates. That money you gave me helped us all out. They will watch my back for me.”
Satisfied I added, “And tomorrow evening we may have some news for you which might provide an income. I will say no more but know that I appreciate all that you have done for us, Jenkins.”
He grinned, “Sir, for the last three days I have had a full belly. I have supped decent ale and I have had a few pipes of baccy. Add to that the fact that I feel like I have a purpose again and you have made a new man of me, sir. I thought one arm made me useless. It doesn’t. There are poor sods, pardon my language, sir, who would swap places with me in a heartbeat save that their hearts don’t beat any more. You make the best of life, eh sir?”
As we rode, with Mr Hudson, to Bilson’s farm I asked him about the lady Jenkins had mentioned. If he seemed surprised that I knew she had visited him he did not say so. “Ah yes, Mrs Elizabeth Turner; the widow of an East India Company man. Apparently, her husband died during the troubles a couple of years ago when we took Pondicherry from the French. She was young and he was an older man. Her husband was an important chap and quite rich. She took some time to sell their lands and then she returned to England. She arrived just two months ago. She has bought a house on Piccadilly not far from Lord Ferrers. She mentioned his name. I believe they are friends. She wished to buy fine wines, lemons and olives. She intends to host an affair in a month’s time.” Mr Hudson turned and smiled at me, “She would be a good catch, Major. Very rich and very beautiful. That uniform must draw women like flies.”
I shook my head, “My reasons for the interest are nothing to do with my ambitions. Let us say I believe we have a mutual friend. Now that I know her name it will help me when next I meet him.”
“Ah,” Mr Hudson seemed happy with my response.
I was wondering about the Lord Ferrers’ connection. I had learned, long ago, not to ignore coincidences. I had no doubt that a beautiful and rich widow would be invited to a ball such as the one Lord Ferrers was hosting. I would not have had my interest piqued were it not for the fact that the Gordon Highlander had followed her. I had hoped that the employer of the Highlander would have been identified by now. When we had been in Portugal, I had heard a rumour that there were Imperial spies seeking me. It had been inevitable. Robbie Macgregor had disappeared, supposedly dead, but the higher my rank the more prominent I had become. I was now a major. I had been on the staff of Sir Arthur Wellesley and Sir John Moore. I had been present on the battlefield and all it took was one Frenchman to remember me. I feared that the Highlander was in the pay of one such man.
I had never met the Butcher of Lyons, Joseph Fouché, for he had joined Napoleon after the Emperor had returned from Egypt, but I knew his reputation. He was Bonaparte’s spymaster and police chief. He was clever and ruthless. If my name was known then my former commander would seek to have harm come to me. Bonaparte was a brilliant soldier but in many other ways, he was a vindictive little man. I would be wary.
The farm, when we found it, was, indeed, run down. There had once been a stone farmhouse, although it had been a small one. The house was dilapidated for the roof had fallen in and there was no glass in the tiny windows. It was surrounded by wooden farm buildings. The one building which looked to still be serviceable was a wooden barn. We dismounted and Mr Hudson said, “I have the agent meeting us here at noon.” He pointed to the east, “I thought we could dine in the inn close by the Tottenham Court. It is as near to a rural inn as one finds this close to London. They have passable fare.”
I nodded, absent-mindedly. Food was not a concern. I was assessing the land for a potential home and also as a place I could defend. Sir Arthur was right, I did have a military mind. The farm was on a higher piece of land than the road and afforded a good view all around. The fact that the aspect, especially to the south, was not particularly pleasant was irrelevant. Trees and shrubs could be planted. There was a large pond. I walked over to it and saw that there were fish in it. I knew, from what my father had said, that in times past lords and monks liked to have fish ponds to provide fish in winter. This looked to be one such. I wondered if there had once been a grander house here. I saw humps and bumps around the remaining buildings which suggested something beneath the surface.
“There are just four acres with the farm, Major. That means it would not be viable as a farm. It struck me that it would make a good home for you. There is a wood for hunting,” he pointed to the north and I spied the wood, “and the pasture would suit a gentleman who likes horses. I believe the farm was what they called a mixed farm but as it has been many years since the land was tilled nature has reclaimed it.”
I nodded again. My mind was racing. I did not know the cost of the land or the rebuilding but I was excited. I had not had a home before. My mother and I were little more than servants living in the chateau. Since that time, I had been a soldier living in barracks, in digs or, more normally, sleeping in fields. I liked the ide
a of having a home. I walked over to the remains of the house. The door was no longer on its hinges. As I pushed it open and went inside the first thing to strike me was the thickness of the walls. Despite its diminutive size, they were substantial. Despite that everything else was in disrepair. There had been a staircase to the upper floor but when I viewed it I knew it would fall the moment someone stepped upon it. The house would be demolished and I wasted no time in further inspection of the inside. Instead, I went outside and began to examine the ground. I saw both Mr Hudson and Alan watching me. We had had rain and the ground was soft. I knelt to look along the land. I saw something which intrigued me. The humps and bumps were in straight lines. I took my sword out and slid it into the soil. It did not go far before I felt resistance. I kept walking and inserting my sword until I was able to sink it halfway along the sword’s length. Satisfied, I stood.
“This will do Mr Hudson.” After cleaning my sword on a discarded scrap of material from what might have been a curtain at one time, I sheathed it. “The question is, “Can I afford it?”
“The owners are asking for one hundred and fifty pounds. I believe if we offer one hundred, we shall have it.”
“And the rebuilding?”
“That depends what you wish to build. The grander the house the more expensive.”
“Mr Hudson, I am a simple man. I want something solid. I would have a house of, perhaps, five rooms on the ground floor and four bedrooms. A smaller dwelling for servants and a stable block. And,” I swept my hand around in a circle, “a wall connecting them.”
Mr Hudson laughed, “You would build a castle?”
“Not a castle but a home with a wall and one gate which can be barred and it is not such a fanciful idea, Mr Hudson.” I pointed to the marks I had made with my sword. “The line I marked marks the foundations of a bigger building. I have spoken to engineers and know that a building may fall but if there are good foundations then they can be reused. Could I afford the building I have described?”
“Easily, Major Matthews!”
“Good! When the house is demolished, I would have the ground cleared first to reveal the foundations. The house and walls will use those foundations.”
“Then I will have a friend of mine, who is an architect, draw up the plans.”
The agent arrived an hour later. During that time, we had found the other foundations. Whatever had been here was larger than the farm which had replaced it. Had a family fallen on hard times? I was guessing a manor house of some description. I allowed Mr Hudson to negotiate. I played the part of a bored officer and adopted a disinterested attitude. The result was that the agent ended up persuading me to buy it. We managed to get it for just ninety-six guineas. We retired to the Dog and Gun by the Tottenham Court to seal the deal. After the agent left us I went over my plans with Mr Hudson.
“Time is of the essence, Mr Hudson. Sharp and I will be heading for Spain soon. I want all in place before then. I would have the ground cleared and the first dwelling to be built would be the servants’ quarters.”
He looked surprised, “May I ask why Major?”
“I have a man in mind to be caretaker. He is an old soldier and he can supervise the builders. I do not doubt that you will find me a reliable person but it is in the nature of man to be less than diligent if they are unsupervised. You cannot be here to watch and so I will provide the man. You will pay him weekly wages. When the first dwelling is finished then he will live there.”
“Rafe Jenkins, sir?”
“Aye, Alan, and if he has a mind to bring some of his comrades to live while it is being built then I shall not mind. If they are all old soldiers then who better to watch the men build?”
When I told Jenkins the news, I thought he would burst into tears. To cover my embarrassment I said, “Now, Jenkins you will be working for me.” I gave him half a guinea. “You need to dress accordingly so you must buy yourself good clothes. Mr Hudson has arranged a meeting the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow you get yourself some clothes and any other gear you might need. I want you there when we meet the builders. You have to look the part.”
“Aye, sir but what about your watcher?”
“Do not worry about him. We will keep him busy. Tomorrow Sergeant Sharp and I will be making purchases for our next foreign foray. I do not mind wearing out his shoe leather.”
Chapter 3
The days before the party flew by. There were not enough hours in the day. Sharp and I did not use our horses in the busy London streets. Instead, we walked everywhere. As I told Rafe, if there was a watcher then he would earn his money. My previous experience in Spain and Portugal had prepared me for the coming campaign and I made certain that we would have all that we needed from England before we left. I acquired as much ammunition for our pair of Baker Rifles as we could manage. We bought spare flints for all our weapons. We were already well furnished with stiletto daggers, knives and, of course, our swords. Mr Hudson’s friend had visited Bilson’s Farm and confirmed that what I had found were, indeed, the foundations of an earlier dwelling and he sketched out a plan which met with my approval. For a relatively small fee, he would draw them up for the builder.
The builders were sound chaps. Jenkins had managed to buy himself decent clothes. They were not new but they were well made and he had had his hair washed and trimmed too. He had a short sword hanging from his belt. He later told us it was a memento from Portugal. I showed the rough plan to Harry Harper. At first, the builder was sceptical about my plans but when he had one of his navvies dig where I pointed and he saw the foundations his attitude changed.
“Well Major Matthews, this will save some work and cost, that is certain.”
“Now you are sure you understand how this will work Mr Harper? You will see Mr Hudson for monies but Mr Jenkins here will supervise your work. You will be building his home first. It is he who will be site foreman.”
He looked at Rafe and nodded. My caretaker might only have one arm but old soldiers who were not lying dead drunk in a gutter had steel in their eyes. “Aye, no bother, sir. My dad was a soldier who served in the colonies. I will do a good job for you, sir.”
And then Sharp helped to prepare me for the party. I did not like such functions but I knew that my position on the staff of Sir Arthur meant I had to attend. As Sharp was helping me to dress I decided that whilst I would attend, I would stay for the minimum amount of time. I would meet with my fellow officers, I would smile. I would drink sparingly and then slip away as soon as I could.
I knew which house it was as soon as I turned on to the fashionable street which was Piccadilly. Fine carriages disgorged richly dressed women and their husbands. Officers pranced up on expensive hunters. They were taken away to stables in the rear. I had my piece of paper from Sir Arthur. It felt inadequate somehow. I hoped there would be no embarrassment when I tried to enter.
The doormen looked like ex-soldiers. They were dressed in fine livery but they had the hands of fighters and their faces displayed the marks of punches, blows and beatings. These were not pretty doormen, these were guards. One of them must have recognised me for he nodded and gave a gap-toothed smile, “Good evening Major Matthews.”
I smiled back, I was relieved. “Sorry, I don’t remember your name.”
“No reason why you should have, sir. I recognised you straight away. You were one of the officers your troopers rated.” He suddenly realised what he had said, “No offence.”
“None taken.”
I stepped inside and saw that Lord Ferrers had spent a fortune on his home. A liveried footman glided up to me with a tray of drinks, “Wine sir?”
I took one. I would nurse it. I sipped it and found it to be a good one. I sniffed at it and. holding it up to the light, smiled; it was Alpini and had been supplied by Mr Hudson.
I had not arrived early and the affair was already in full swing. I heard music from a ballroom. There would be dancing. I doubted that Sir Arthur would be found there. If this was summer then he w
ould have been in the garden. As it was February the garden would be too cold and he would be somewhere quiet. I needed to show my face to the General and then leave. I headed for the library. I knew it would be at the rear of the house and close by the garden. That was the way they did things in this sort of house. Even Wells Street had a small library and double doors leading to the small garden and patio.
I passed rooms with ladies sat around tables, their heads almost touching they huddled together to gossip and tittle-tattle. In other rooms, couples spoke. It was an enormous house. I also spied Colonel James Selkirk. He did not see me for he was speaking to a dark-haired woman. She was beautiful. Her skin showed that it had been touched by the sun and that meant she was not English. I did not wish to speak to the spymaster and so I scurried by him. As I did so, I was engulfed by the woman’s perfume. I felt drawn to it like a sailor to a siren! The fug of smoke I spied ahead led me to the library. I wondered how many books would actually be read. Certainly, they would all reek of tobacco.
I entered and saw Sir Arthur. He was surrounded by senior officers. There was one sharp-eyed man in civilian dress. I did not recognise him but, if he was with Sir Arthur, then he was important. The lowest rank I saw was a colonel of the 23rd Light Dragoons. I had been spied, for as I appeared in the doorway, all faces turned towards me. I could not wait for a quieter moment and so I stepped forward, clicked my heels and gave a slight bow.
“Sirs!”
Sir Arthur rarely smiled but the hint of one played around his lips, “Gentlemen, as you know this is a somewhat clandestine gathering. Parliament still dallies.” I saw him glance at the civilian. “I think it is appropriate, therefore, that you meet Major Matthews. Although he will serve on my staff and when we fight will lead men, his main purpose is to discover where the French are to be found and how to winkle them from their positions. Major Matthews here is adept in such matters.” I gave another bow. He went around the men and gestured as he said each name, “Sir John Murray, General Rowland Hill, Sir Edward Pakenham, Brigadier Stapleton Cotton, Brigadier Henry Fane, Colonel Hawker and Lord Castlereagh, the Secretary of War.”
