Northern Exposure - 62. Chapter 62

May 25, 1801

Visby, Sweden

Granger disembarked from his gig, followed by Daventry, Fitzgerald and Anson. After them came the eight marines and a sergeant that Captain Pitcairn seemed to think was important for his security. “Welcome to Visby, my lord!” Backstromm said enthusiastically, as if his arrival was a huge surprise.

“It is a pleasure to return to this city that I have come to love,” Granger said, then focused his attention on the dock. A large crowd, at least by Visby standards, had gathered and cheered for him spontaneously. Granger raised his hat and bowed to acknowledge them, getting even louder cheers.

“George, what on earth did you do to earn these kinds of accolades?” Daventry asked quietly.

“I brought them a shipload of food I extorted from the Prussians,” Granger replied in an equally low volume, getting a laugh from his fellow peer.

“My lord, perhaps you would care to join us at the town hall?” Backstromm offered.

“If it is not too much trouble, Your Excellency,” Granger replied, “I should like to stroll around the town for a bit first.”

“That is not a problem at all,” he said. Granger led his entourage beyond the dock and into the narrow streets of Visby, following the same route he’d taken before. Backstromm soon occupied himself with describing the city to the others, allowing Granger to focus on the people. He had brought a purse full of coppers with him and proceeded to hand them out to citizens who stood in front of their homes or businesses to greet him. He glanced back at his marines, who were first shocked by that, but ultimately relaxed enough to smile at the citizens.

Granger heard a shouted “my lord” from ahead and looked in that direction to see the young boy he’d encountered here last time. He had been about six years old then, although he looked older now, which was reasonable considering the speed at which boys grew. Backstromm made to go and admonish the boy, but Granger put his hand on Backstromm’s arm and went forward himself.

“It is good to see you again,” Granger said, shaking the lad’s hand. “If memory serves, your name is Matheus.”

“I am honored that Your Lordship remembered,” he said, surprising Granger. He did not speak like a typical Swedish town dweller, and the fact that he spoke English was even more curious.

“I also remember that you were keen to go to sea, and I had admonished you to focus on your mathematical studies,” Granger said, acting like a severe parent.

“I did as Your Lordship ordered,” Matheus said with a smile. “I received excellent marks in math.”

“Good boy,” Granger said. The boy did not seem to want him to leave, but their procession strained to move on. “Walk with us.”

“With pleasure, my lord,” he said, and strode next to Granger. Granger put his hand on the boy’s shoulder to reassure him.

“Will your mother not worry about you?” Granger asked.

“My mother died two months ago,” Matheus said sadly, and a tear fell from his eye and rolled down his cheek.

“I am sorry,” Granger said, and gripped his shoulder more tightly. “Do you have any siblings?”

“I have no one, my lord,” he said, and sounded totally dejected.

“There was an outbreak of gaol fever this winter, my lord,” Backstromm added. “It has left many families bereft.” Granger wondered whether the townspeople blamed Cochrane for that outbreak, since typhus was the disease that killed him as well.

“That is unfortunate,” Granger said. They walked by the bookstore they’d stopped at before, and Granger surprised all of them by entering the shop. Matheus joined him, while the others did not.

“You are back, my lord,” the bookseller said in a dourly friendly way. “And you have brought a street urchin with you.” The disdainful way he referred to Matheus was disturbing.

“This street urchin is my charge,” Granger said coolly.

“I apologize, my lord,” the man replied, but gamely changed the subject. “I managed to acquire two books similar to the last one you bought.”

“Indeed?” Granger asked. The man went to the back of his store and returned to the front counter with two books, obviously old, and probably very valuable. Spencer would love these.

“I had to pay dearly for them, my lord,” he said, which was his way of starting an argument about price. Granger finally acquired the two books, but it was a lengthy process. As soon as he finished the negotiations, he noticed the bookseller stare off to where Matheus was reading a book.

“What have you found that interests you, Matheus?” Granger asked.

“This is a book on navigation, my lord,” he said to Granger. Granger took the volume and smiled.

“This is identical to the book I was given when I first joined the navy,” Granger replied. He turned around and looked at the bookseller, waiting until the man finally got his meaning. He had spent a small fortune on those two volumes for Spencer, so it was not unreasonable that he would gift this navigator’s guide as part of the deal.

“Matheus, you may keep that book,” the bookseller said grudgingly.

“Thank you, sir!” Matheus said excitedly.

Granger nodded to the bookseller and led Matheus outside with their purchases. He found Anson waiting for him. “The others opted to go ahead to the town hall, my lord.”

“I am glad you stayed behind to let me know,” Granger said. Looking at Matheus and Anson, it was easy to see the similarities between the two, perhaps a continuing reminder of the blood bond between the Viking nations and England. The three of them began their walk to the town square. Granger stopped at a few more stores, buying supplies that would be shipped out to Calliope, until he finally truncated his shopping spree and arrived at the town hall.

“Thank you for the book, my lord,” Matheus said. He stared at the town hall with a bit of dread.

“I am glad to help you with your naval aspirations,” Granger said. The boy smiled, then frowned as he turned to leave. “Would you like to see a real warship?”

“I would love to, my lord!” he said excitedly.

“Mr. Anson, please take Matheus back to Calliope and show him around,” Granger ordered. “Perhaps you can rig a cot for him in my quarters and then I can return him ashore tomorrow. Will that work for you?” That last sentence was directed at Matheus.

“I would stay there forever, my lord, were it my wish,” Matheus said.

“Enjoy your time aboard,” Granger said with a smile. “And Mr. Anson, I’ll tolerate no tricks on the lad. Anything that happens to him, I am holding you accountable.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Anson said, not a little abashed.

“You can take these back for me as well,” Granger said, handing Anson his packages. He detailed two marines to escort them, although they were less about security and more about carrying Granger’s purchases.

Granger nodded to all of them, then strode into the town hall. He found a sizable gathering with people drinking and fraternizing. There was a large table set, so presumably they’d have dinner shortly. Backstromm hurried over to greet him. “I hope you enjoyed your time in our town, my lord.”

“I was thoroughly enchanted,” Granger replied. Backstromm made to lead him back to the crowd, but Granger stopped him. “Can you tell me about the boy, about Matheus?”

Backstromm got a mildly pained look on his face, then guided Granger to the corner of the room where they could not be overheard. “His mother is dead, and his father is unwilling to claim him, or at least he was before the mother’s death.”

“He is a bastard?” Granger asked.

Backstromm nodded. “His mother, Sophia Soderburg, had a liaison with another man.”

“And who was this man?” Granger asked. Backstromm hesitated, but Granger’s fierce look demanded that he answer.

“Count Axel von Fersen,” Backstromm answered. That would explain some of Matheus handsome features, since von Fersen was renowned for his looks.

“I am surprised he did not provide for Matheus and his mother,” Granger said in annoyance. It was really quite boorish of von Fersen not to live up to his responsibilities.

“He settled an income on Sophia to raise the boy,” Backstromm said. “With her death, I am unsure if he will continue to provide for him. I was under the impression that he thinks the boy is old enough for an apprenticeship or the like.”

“Do you have proof that he is von Fersen’s son?” Granger asked. He was conscious that Sophia Soderburg’s claims might not be valid.

“I do, my lord,” he said.

“Matheus has expressed an interest in joining the navy,” Granger said. “I would like to take him home with me.”

Backstromm’s eyes bulged at that. “I am not sure how Count von Fersen would feel about that.”

“I think that since he is an orphan in this town, he must either go with me or be sent to his father in Stockholm,” Granger insisted. “Leaving him here to fend for himself is unacceptable.”

Backstromm found himself in a dilemma, not wanting to offend either Granger or von Fersen, but evidently decided to rule against the Count who was probably far away in Stockholm. “You have my permission to take him with you. If an issue arises where we must seek his return, I will contact you.”

“Excellent,” Granger said. “It is important that you provide me with some documentary evidence of who his parents are.”

“My lord?” he asked.

“When he lands in England, people will be curious about his parentage, and I would like to answer their questions factually,” he said.

“I don’t understand, my lord,” Backstromm said.

“He comes from a noble Swedish family, and a famous one at that,” Granger said. “Even though he is a bastard, that gives him some status and will enable him to make a limited entrée into society.”

“Of course, my lord,” he said.

“Can you tell me about his mother?” Granger asked.

“She was an opera singer in Stockholm,” Backstromm said. “When she ended up with child, Governor von Rajalan offered to set her up here. The story that was circulated was that her husband was a naval officer killed in the war with Russia.”

“That seems to be a plausible excuse,” Granger noted. It may also have explained Matheus’s fascination with the sea.

“It would have been were she not so famous,” Backstromm told him, clearly relishing the gossip this had caused. “Once people found out the truth, they were colder to her. She was able to maintain herself here with von Fersen’s allowance, so she did not need to work or interact with others.”

“That would still be a lonely existence,” Granger observed.

“It was, and she solved that problem with alcohol,” Backstromm said. “Matheus probably seems mature because he has largely had to raise himself.”

“That must have been quite a trial for him,” Granger said, just to draw Backstromm out more.

“He is a very determined boy, and I think that focus helped him survive,” Backstromm said. “He has wanted to be a sailor since I have known him, so I must thank your lordship for introducing him into the world of the sea.”

“I will do my best to guide him along,” Granger said. That ended their conversation, so Granger and Backstromm joined the party, which was evidently the cue for dinner to begin.

“And what did you do with that young Swedish boy?” Daventry asked him.

“I sent him aboard Calliope so he can see what life as a sailor is like,” Granger responded.

“I daresay he’ll flee ashore in short order,” Daventry said.

“Not this boy,” Granger said as if he were a sage. Granger agreed with Backstromm. The sea seemed to dominate Matheus’s thoughts, and that meant he was unlikely to change his mind.

Anson returned at that moment and knelt down next to Granger. “I left Matheus in Winkler’s care, my lord, per his instructions. Mr. Douglas ordered me back here in case you needed me to carry messages.”

“I think, Mr. Anson, that was a clever way of insinuating yourself into this wonderful dinner,” Granger said with a smile, then gestured for him to have a seat.

“I try not to pass up an opportunity for a good meal, my lord,” Anson said with a grin, making Granger chuckle. It was nice to see Anson break out of his shell a bit. Up until that point, he had seemed uncomfortable around Granger. Granger began to wonder how much effort Smythe spent on grooming his midshipmen.

“I have been meaning to talk to you about a task I would like you to perform,” Granger said to Daventry.

“And what is this task?” Daventry asked suspiciously.

“Calliope’s young gentlemen would benefit from your wisdom,” Granger said. “I fear there is no schoolmaster aboard.”

“You were that impressed with my efforts aboard Valiant?” he asked playfully.

“I am always impressed by your efforts,” Granger said.

“I wonder if your young gentlemen will be as appreciative,” Daventry observed ruefully.

“They will if they do not want to be caned,” Granger noted with a smile.

It turned out to be a dinner where the food was good but the conversation was tedious, so when it ended the relieved and inebriated group of Englishmen took their leave from their hosts. Backstromm approached him with a large canvas packet. “My lord, this is all the correspondence we have accumulated for you and Lord Daventry.”

“Thank you,” Daventry said, even as Granger took the envelope.

“And thank you for your hospitality,” Granger said. They left the town hall and walked into the main square.

“I have been told there are some places in this town where men of quality can enjoy themselves,” Daventry said, raising his eyebrow suggestively. He had clearly found out about a local whorehouse. “I am planning to see if that is true. If any of you wish to accompany me, you are welcome to do so.”

“I will be glad to keep your lordship company,” Fitzgerald said with barely concealed lust. Anson looked a bit nervous, presumably because he was unfamiliar with such places.

“I am going to stop at the sauna and enjoy myself, then I am going back to the ship to read my correspondence,” Granger said. He labored with that decision, because he was torn between rushing back to the ship to read his letters and the joys of a bath. In the end, he decided that with just a little bit of patience, he would be able to do both.

“You are no fun,” Daventry chided.

“But when dawn breaks tomorrow, I will be much better informed than you,” Granger said. “Perhaps you gentlemen would care to join me before your sojourn to this house of ill repute?”

The others looked to Daventry to answer. “A bath would be most refreshing,” he said.

“Mr. Anson, after your bath, you may choose to go cavorting with Lord Daventry and Mr. Fitzgerald, or you may return to Calliope with me.”

“I was tasked with accompanying Your Lordship, so I will continue with my duties,” Anson said respectfully.

“The choice is entirely yours,” Granger said, then led them to the sauna he’d visited before. They were fortunate that they weren’t occupied. There were only two bathtubs, so Granger and Anson stripped down and went into the sauna while Daventry and Fitzgerald washed themselves.

“I have never been in a contraption like this, my lord,” Anson said as he relaxed and enjoyed the steam and heat. Granger tried not to lust too much at his lithe body. He reminded Granger of Lennox when he’d been aboard Intrepid.

“I have found them to be a wonderful way to relax, and made frequent use of them in Russia,” Granger noted. “They are even more enjoyable in the winter, when there is snow and ice on the ground, a strong wind, and blisteringly cold temperatures.”

“I can see the attraction would be even more pronounced in the winter, my lord,” Anson said. “Are these similar to the baths you have at your home?” Granger wanted to roll his eyes at how his baths had become common knowledge and a subject of discussion in the fleet.

“No, those are more like warm pools, and do not have a steam element,” Granger said. “Although now that I think about it, perhaps that would be a nice addition.”

“My lord, do you have these baths at all of your homes?” Anson asked curiously.

“Yes,” Granger said. “I think the nicest ones are at my home on the Isle of Wight. You must visit me when we return to England and I will show them to you.”

“I would like that, my lord,” he said shyly. They stayed in the sauna for quite some time, until the heat drove them out, and when they returned to the bathing area, they found Daventry and Fitzgerald gone and the baths refilled with clean water. Anson was very attractive, and as a typical young man, had a hard time keeping his body from reacting to the sensations of the bath. Fortunately for both of them, Granger was firmly focused on his correspondence, so he hurried their cleansing along. When they had finished, Granger, Anson, and their marine guard returned to Calliope.

Granger politely acknowledged Douglas’ welcome when he returned, then escaped to his cabin. He greeted Winkler then sat at his dining room table and took out his letter opener. Winkler saw the packet and avoided small talk; he poured a glass for Granger, made sure there was ample light, then left Granger alone.

Granger first sorted through the letters and segregated out those for Daventry, then arranged his in order of importance, starting with Caroline’s latest communique. He noticed that there was nothing from St. Vincent, which disturbed him greatly.

May, 1801

Dearest George,

First, I must hasten to tell you that we are all well here. The big news comes from Russia, where a new Tsar has fueled hopes that we can end the Northern War and renew our former alliance with His Imperial Majesty. Even more important, that news brought letters from you. I had been terribly worried that you would be mysteriously assasinated by that ogre, Tsar Paul, so you can imagine my relief to hear that you were safe and had earned plaudits from Tsar Alexander. I can only hope that this change will ultimately mean you are soon to be home.

I have been approached by every member of the cabinet, and all of them have lauded you and Daventry for your service in Russia. Presumably they will show their appreciation in some tangible way, but I am unclear as to how and when that will happen. I had occasion to attend the King recently, and he asked about you. I know you will be thrilled to hear that he seems much improved, and your father assures me that he is almost his old self. It would seem that with the issue of Catholic Emancipation off the table, His Majesty has been able to work his way back to a relatively sane place.

I have spent a great deal of time at Heathford, trying to sort out the estate, but it is a jumble. Evidently my father left control of the operations to his agent, with the orders to maximize his income. I had intended to see if the agent could adapt to our philosophy, with new directives to care for our tenants, but his harsh ways are too ingrained, and I was forced to fire him. The new man I have found seems to understand that we see not only the obligation of our tenants to us, but our obligations to them. I made considerable progress in reforming things and have left him to continue on while I returned to London. I plan to check on his progress with another visit when Parliament adjourns and the Season ends.

I am anguished by a decision I have made and am even more worried at your reaction. In order to ensure that my father’s estate and title passed to Alexander, I was compelled to agree that we would not allow Catholic tenants on our estates at Brentwood or Heathford. There are 10 catholic families at Heathford and four at Brentwood. It pains me because they are good people, all of them, and the conflict between advancing the interests of our son while betraying our obligation to our people has plagued me. I have assured all of them individually that I will find a new place for them, and have told HRH the Duke of Cumberland, who was the driving force behind this eviction, that I must wait until after the harvest to evict them. He is an awful man, and was unwilling to show any mercy, but I was firm and threatened to go to the King, and he relented. It is disturbing in the extreme that your brother and HRH seem to be allies at this point. I am hoping that you return home soon, as I most desperately need your guidance on how to make sure these poor Papists are not injured by being forced off our land.

An even more unfortunate sidenote to my decision is still uncertain. Your aunt, Lady Kendal, died last week. I had only received one letter from her since we have been married, and while I have written several to her, she had never replied until recently. A few weeks before she died, she found out about my agreement to evict our Catholic tenants and sent me a scathing letter, denouncing my actions and calling me a tyrant. That has not only made my guilt worse, it has made me worry that any provisions she has made for you in her will may have been changed. It is said that she enjoys an income of some £30,000/year from her estates, so this may all end up being very costly for us.

Your father and brother have, of course, pounced on the opportunity Lady Kendal’s death has presented, clearly hoping they are the prime beneficiaries of her estate. As she has no living children, it does seem logical that she would pass her holdings on to her brother, but I do not know enough about their relationship to know if that is so. They have plagued her solicitor with entreaties to know what provisions she made in her will. In what is perhaps a good sign, he has told them, and me, that he is unable to settle her estate until he meets personally with you.

I am so terribly sorry about this George. I promise you that I tried to make the best decisions that I could, based on the information that I had, but I am worried that in my desire to advance our family and our son, I have cost us dearly. I so long for your return. I miss you terribly. I have realized that you have often served as my moral compass, and I so desperately need your guidance. Even if there is no solution to these problems, just having you here will make it so much easier to survive the storms.

All my love,

Caroline.

Granger had read the letter at a breakneck pace, and now that he was done, he went back and reviewed it in a more methodical manner. He was very relieved that the government seemed happy with him and Daventry, and even happier that the King seemed to be better. He reminded himself that politicians could be fickle, and inevitably contrasted his own monarch to the one he’d left behind in Russia. Both of those thoughts tended to depress him, so he fought off that impression and opted to take things at face value. He hoped that he would make it back to England before the King left for his summer holiday at Weymouth, lest he have to trek to that relatively drab environment in order to pay his respects.

He had been furious with Caroline for evicting their Catholic tenants but hearing how much it anguished her largely erased his animosity. As she noted, she had made the best decision at the time with the information at hand, and had at least met with the tenants to explain her dilemma. Granger vowed internally to find them a place to thrive, even if it required him to buy another estate. He shook his head in frustration at Freddie and his newfound love of the Duke of Cumberland and his extreme Tory views. Granger hoped that this was an alliance of opportunity and not one of conviction, but he could see his brother fitting in with the hard-line Tories. He wondered how his sister-in-law was navigating that political orientation with her family, because the Devonshires were stalwart Whigs.

He allowed his mind to segue to his dead aunt: Lady Kendal. The Duke of Suffolk had two sisters, Lady Kendal and Lady Gatwick. Lady Kendal was the older of the two. She had married Lord Kendal, who had large estates in Westmoreland and Cumbria, and they had a son, Edgar, who had been some 15 years older than Granger, a reflection of how late his father had waited to marry. Granger had childhood memories of Edgar and they weren’t pleasant, as he was a bit of a sadist and enjoyed torturing Granger and his brothers. Poor Edgar had gotten his just rewards for being such an awful person by succumbing to smallpox. Lord and Lady Kendall had refused to inoculate him against that disease, and so they carried the guilt of his death with them to early graves. Lord Kendal had died when Granger was eight, and after his demise Lady Kendal had become a recluse. The last time he had seen her was at his uncle’s funeral, and after that she refused to receive any visitors, even his father. Granger had written her about twice a year and had only received one letter from her in return, congratulating him when he’d been promoted to the peerage. He had been disconnected from her for so long he probably wouldn’t have been able to recognize her, and his family had written her off as a crank.

According to his father, she detested her sister, Lady Gatwick, who lived in Middlesex. Lady Gatwick was also a widow, but rather than live by herself, her home was overrun by animals, mostly dogs and cats. She didn’t want visitors either; Granger wondered if the stench of her house was largely designed to drive any would-be callers away. Granger exchanged friendly, but infrequent letters with her. His father didn’t get along with either of his sisters, so for the most part, they had not played a part in Granger’s life.

He did not know that Lady Kendal was so protective of Catholics, but then again, she lived in the northern counties where that religion was much more prevalent than in the environs of London. She was very rich, but Granger did not worry overmuch about Caroline’s actions costing him a lucrative inheritance. Despite their rather frosty relationship, he imagined she would leave the bulk of her estate to his father and hadn’t thought much beyond that.