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    Mark Arbour
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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Peace of Amiens - 10. Chapter 10

A day late to celebrate Arbor Day here in the US, but I hope you'll excuse my tardiness. The end of the semester looms, so chapter posting may be delayed for a bit.

September 7, 1801

Weymouth, England

 

“The Right Honorable Earl of Brentwood, Captain Francis Calvert,” the chamberlain boomed as they entered the room His Britannic Majesty King George III had adopted as his reception chamber. It was dowdy and unimpressive, which Granger had expected. The King did not seem overly concerned with the opulence of his homes under normal circumstances, so it was no surprise that he would be even less bothered about holiday lodgings. He pondered how the Prince of Wales would react to using such a venue to receive visitors and almost laughed out loud.

They approached the King, bowing reverently to their sovereign. They had arrived too late on the 5th to call on His Majesty, and as yesterday was the Sabbath, they’d postponed their formal call until today. As St. Vincent had gone ashore on the 5th and had undoubtedly spoken to the King already, Granger was almost gripped with fear at how his sovereign would treat them. “We are pleased to see you in such good health, Captain,” the King said to Calvert. Protocol dictated that the King should speak to Granger first, so addressing Calvert was a singular sign of distinction. More importantly, if the King had heard about Chalmers’ letter, he was showing that he did not hold it against Calvert. Granger decided that even if he had not, he was still showing Calvert remarkable favoritism. He stopped his ruminations and focused on the encounter unfolding before him.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Calvert said, smiling broadly at his sovereign.

“We will be aboard Endymion the day after tomorrow, Lord Brentwood,” the King announced.

“Thank you for giving us the honor of hosting you again, Your Majesty,” Granger said. He and Calvert backed away from the throne until they were out of earshot.

“That was quite an honor His Majesty paid you,” Granger said. Calvert looked at him questioningly. “He addressed you before he addressed me.”

“To temporarily eclipse the charming Lord Brentwood is truly an achievement,” Calvert joked.

“One would think so,” Granger said vapidly, making them both chuckle. Their playful interlude was interrupted when Calvert suddenly found himself facing Princess Amelia.

“You are looking very well,” Amelia said to him.

“Your Royal Highness, allow me to formally present Captain Francis Calvert,” Granger said a bit playfully, getting a frown from Amelia that was mostly faked.

“I have already met Captain Calvert, but I do not know if he was alert enough to remember me,” Amelia said. She was flirting with Calvert, but she wasn’t very good at it, probably because she spent all of her time with her family.

“I must beg Your Royal Highness’s pardon, but you are incorrect,” Calvert said gallantly. “I remember your visit vividly, and visions of you along with your kind wishes have surely hastened my recovery.” Granger hid his surprise stoically. Calvert had never been very good at charming women, but he was certainly doing a superb job of it now. Granger wondered if that was because, with Chalmers letter, he was considerably more worried. He’d let his own musing distract him from the conversation until the Princess addressed him.

“Lord Brentwood, I hope you won’t mind if I steal your charming friend away from you,” Amelia said. “I’ve made arrangements for him to stay here with us, so I wanted to show him to his room.”

“I will gladly yield Captain Calvert’s excellent company to Your Royal Highness,” Granger said, bowing and smiling while at the same time hiding the sadness he felt. He’d known this would happen and had prepared himself for it, but it still took all his reserves to keep his feelings hidden. Calvert’s eyes met his, they shared an unspoken desire to remain together, and that did much to steel Granger’s resolve.

“Your lordship is too kind,” she said. She led Calvert off, and if this encounter had taken place at Carlton House, Granger would have expected them to sneak off to have sex. He chuckled to himself, thinking that such a thing was almost impossible here at the Royal Court. Following the couple were two ladies-in-waiting and an usher, a more than adequate group of chaperones.

“I see Captain Calvert is back,” he heard Cavendish’s voice from behind him.

Granger pivoted to find himself facing his good friend. “It is very good to see you,” he said as he took Cavendish’s hands in his.

“I had business in town, but finally was able to extract myself to pay homage to my sovereign,” Cavendish said, smiling cutely.

“I would have thought that as soon as you heard I was attending His Majesty you would have dropped everything and rushed to see me,” Granger riposted.

“You were presumptuous enough to assume I would hurry here to see you when I would not do so for His Majesty?” Cavendish asked. Granger decided that he enjoyed bantering with Cavendish almost as much as he did with Calvert.

“I can do things for you that he cannot,” Granger said, and risked a quick wink.

“You make a compelling argument,” Cavendish said.

“I have an issue I need to discuss with you,” Granger said.

“Perhaps if you invited me to join you for supper on Endymion, we could talk then?” Cavendish suggested.

“Someone is missing Lefavre’s cooking,” Granger teased, making them both laugh. “I think Calvert will be staying ashore for the time being.”

“Amelia seems quite enamored with him,” Cavendish said with a smirk. “That should cause tongues to wag.”

“That is probably good,” Granger admitted.

“Being linked to a Royal Princess will seriously diminish the rumors of his being a sodomite,” Cavendish said. “Perhaps I should do that. Which princess should I pick?”

“Elizabeth is the prettiest,” Granger noted, then they both chuckled.

Austen and Bligh arrived, so Granger made sure to escort them up to see the King, then he mingled with the assembled courtiers, and was truly enjoying himself. He saw St. Vincent moving in his general direction, so he detached himself from his current party to engage with his admiral. “Brentwood,” St. Vincent said formally.

“It is good to see you here, sir,” Granger said, which was a blatant lie.

“I would speak with you privately,” he said. He strode off with Granger next to him until he led them into what must be the library of this abode. St. Vincent closed the doors behind them, then gestured for Granger to have a seat. “I’m sorry to pull you away from the joys of the court, but I wanted to speak with you about Calvert.”

“I will endeavor not to miss them too much, sir,” Granger said, smiling slightly.

“Pour us a drink,” St. Vincent said, gesturing to the decanter on a cabinet.

Granger rose up and accomplished that quickly, puzzled by St. Vincent’s behavior. He was much friendlier than Granger had anticipated he would be. “Your drink, sir,” Granger said, then took his seat.

“I shared Mr. Chalmers’ letter with His Majesty, and explained the concerns you raised,” St. Vincent said.

“Thank you, sir,” Granger said, and was sincere this time.

“His Majesty has destroyed the letter,” St. Vincent said. Granger was very surprised about that, but he kept his mouth shut. “He shared your outrage that unsubstantiated accusations should be leveled against a warrior as valiant as Captain Calvert.”

“I am truly appreciative that you achieved that result, sir,” Granger said. St. Vincent would have had to guide that discussion, and the King would have listened to him.

“You are welcome, although I am not sure how much Captain Calvert will appreciate it,” St. Vincent said.

“Sir?” Granger asked, confused. It seemed as if this was ideal. The letter was destroyed, which should send a message to Chalmers that such efforts were futile.

“Captain Calvert will not be given another ship,” St. Vincent said. He saw Granger’s temper begin to rise. He had no desire to vex this powerful and accomplished young peer, so he elaborated. “At least not immediately.”

“I am confused, sir, and would ask you to clear the cobwebs from my brain,” Granger said, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

“I am not sure that is possible, but I will try,” St. Vincent said dourly, even as he let a slight smile escape. “First of all, it appears that peace is almost negotiated. I would expect there to be a cessation of hostilities within two months.”

“That is excellent news, sir,” Granger said, unable to hide his excitement, nor his apprehension. He had been serving in this war since he was a boy. Peace would be a completely foreign experience for him.

“The peace terms do not appear generous, and one of the primary provisions is that we evacuate Malta,” St. Vincent said.

“That island is the key to our control of the eastern Mediterranean, sir,” Granger said, aghast.

“You know that, I know that, the French know that, but Lord Hawkesbury and Mr. Addington do not seem to understand that,” St. Vincent snapped in annoyance.

“I can see why it would be difficult to post Captain Calvert to a ship with peace on the horizon,” Granger said. During peace the fleet would be considerably reduced, with the bulk of the ships being paid off.

“Instead, His Majesty is going to appoint Calvert to be one of his equerries,” St. Vincent said. Granger stared at him, for once visibly speechless. An equerry was a personal attendant to the King, much like an aide-de-camp was to a general. Those positions usually went to those with whom the King had a more personal relationship, and to people with a more distinguished pedigree than Calvert.

“An equerry?” Granger asked and was so shocked he forgot to add ‘sir’ to his question. St. Vincent graciously overlooked that.

“He will mostly attend to the Royal Princesses,” St. Vincent said. Then the gears connected in the machinery that was Granger’s brain, and he understood all too well what had happened.

“I think that is quite an honor His Majesty does for Captain Calvert, but I suspect he will feel out of his element and will crave a ship, sir,” Granger said.

“There are worse things, Brentwood,” St. Vincent said in a slightly admonishing way, then relented. He remembered his own feelings when he was a captain, and understood what Granger was saying all too well.

“There are indeed, sir,” Granger agreed. “I am sorry if I did not express my gratitude to you for salvaging Captain Calvert’s reputation, and by extension, mine as well.”

“You are welcome,” St. Vincent said, then rose to leave the library.

“Sir, may I ask what is to happen to Mr. Chalmers?” Granger asked.

The admiral scowled at him, so much so that Granger braced himself for a tirade, but St. Vincent mellowed. “Mr. Chalmers is to remain in the West Indies. His relatives will be tasked to tell him that his chances of promotion are all but eliminated. That will hopefully serve as a warning to them as well.”

“Thank you, sir,” Granger said. He watched as St. Vincent left the room, then took his seat again. A footman appeared outside the door, so Granger motioned him in. “It would please me if you would find Captain Calvert and ask him to join me here.”

“Yes, my lord,” the strapping young man said. Granger spent the time waiting for Calvert by frantically analyzing the situation, until he had a reasonable hypothesis for what had happened.

“You asked to see me, my lord?” Calvert said as he entered.

“Close the doors and have a seat,” Granger said. Calvert did as he said, while Granger poured a glass for him then joined him. “I have learned your fate.”

“My fate?” Calvert asked nervously.

“You are to be made an equerry to His Majesty,” Granger said.

“I will not be given another ship?” Calvert asked. His sadness drove into Granger’s core.

“Not now, anyway,” Granger said. “It seems that there is a good chance we will be at peace within the next two months.”

“That makes sense,” Calvert said. “Does that mean I will never command at sea again?”

“I think that you will, but you know there are no certainties,” Granger said.

“This much is true,” Calvert agreed. “I do not understand why I am being given this post.”

“I do not know for certain either, but I have a suspicion,” Granger said. “I will share it with you if you will not bear me any ill will if I am proven to be wrong.”

“I am most anxious to hear your thoughts, and I will not hold you accountable for their accuracy,” Calvert said.

“His Majesty burned the letter that Chalmers wrote and was evidently outraged that he’d even dared to write it,” Granger said. “That was most likely St. Vincent’s doing.”

“I shall have to think of a way to thank him,” Calvert said with relief.

“Chalmers has destroyed his career in the navy, and that will be made clear to his relatives,” Granger said, and was unable to keep his anger from showing. “That will hopefully demonstrate to them the price of trying to sabotage my friends.”

“Hopefully,” Calvert said. “But why am I to be an equerry?”

“My understanding is that you will be appointed to attend to the princesses, and if I were to guess, I would suspect you will be tasked mostly to assist Amelia,” Granger said.

“This will make it hard for us to spend time together,” Calvert said sadly.

“I have not thought far enough ahead to devise a plan to accomplish that, but perhaps between the two of us we will come up with something,” Granger said, just as sadly.

“I suppose this is quite an honor, but it is not one that I want,” Calvert said.

“I think it is preferable to being drummed out of the navy and branded as a sodomite,” Granger snapped, then held up his hand to stop what would undoubtedly be a nasty retort. “I am sorry.”

Calvert grinned slightly and shook his head a bit to tell Granger not to worry about it. “Despite your quite rude and abrupt way of phrasing things, I think you are right,” Calvert teased, lightening the mood a bit. “I am relieved that His Majesty does not think I’m a bugger.”

“I am not sure that he does not,” Granger said, getting a surprised look from Calvert. “His Majesty was shown a letter that claimed you were sexually involved with Gatling and were trying to spark a similar relationship with Chalmers. At the same time, you are a distinguished warrior who has just recently fought a very brave action against a stronger foe and then made a bold and daring escape from France.”

“So this is designed to hush those rumors up?” Calvert asked.

“I think that the Queen probably heard of this, and she, along with St. Vincent, persuaded the King that the letter should be destroyed. Instead, you are to be posted to attend the princesses,” Granger said. “It is quite possible that they believe what the letter implied and have decided that makes you a safe escort for the princesses.”

“That is not good,” Calvert said automatically. “I cannot see the King sanctioning this.”

“Neither can I, which makes me think that the Queen has engineered this and has kept her reasons to herself,” Granger said. “I suspect that she voiced considerable outrage over Chalmers’ letter, and convinced the King it was false.”

“I am not sure how to feel about this, nor how to escape from this situation,” Calvert said.

“It is quite an honor to be appointed as one of His Majesty’s equerries,” Granger said firmly.

“It may be an honor, but it is an empty one, since it will keep me from the things that make me happy,” he responded. Granger stared at him, waiting for him to go on. “Commanding a ship and being with you.”

“I understand,” Granger said, and reached over to take his hand in an affectionate way. “I would recommend that you settle into your post and then you can plot a way to escape from it.”

“You will help me?” he asked.

“I will help you,” Granger promised. Calvert looked down, still saddened by the news. “Francis, your presence will probably compel me to attend my sovereign much more diligently.”

“You have not always enjoyed your time at court, so that is quite a concession you make,” Calvert said.

“I’ll bet I enjoy it now,” Granger said.

“I have been gone for a bit, and I suspect my new employer will be looking for me,” Calvert said grumpily. They exchanged a very quick kiss, then went back to fulfill their respective roles.

September 8, 1801

Weymouth, England

 

“My lord, this just arrived for you,” Austen said, handing Granger a note.

Granger took it and smiled at the smell it emanated, for it was heavily perfumed. He opened it carefully and smiled even more broadly when he read it. “I will be going ashore shortly,” he announced. “I will be returning with Carmella Bellini and her party.”

“The opera singer, my lord?” Austen asked, then got nervous, because he had quite inappropriately intruded upon his captain’s affairs.

“The very same, Mr. Austen,” Granger said, dismissing him. While Austen left his cabin, his presence was replaced by Winkler. “Signora Bellini and her party will be coming aboard.”

“Do you know how many people are with her, my lord?” Winkler asked.

“I know that she has a woman with her acting as her chaperone,” Granger said. “I believe her name is Signora Martello.”

“Will they share your quarters, my lord?” Winkler asked.

“Why don’t you set it up so that there are two cabins for them, and two cabins for me,” Granger suggested. “I can thus retain my office.”

“I will make the changes while you are gone, my lord,” Winkler said. Granger strode up the ladder to the quarterdeck, and from there took his gig to the pier. Jacobs thankfully left him to his thoughts and did not engage him in a lengthy conversation, which was something the gregarious American was quite capable of. Shortly after Granger had assumed command of Endymion, he had sent Carmella Bellini a letter offering her a substantial sum of money if she would join him aboard his ship to serenade the King while he was aboard. Granger knew that the King was a great lover of opera, and suspected that none of the other captains who had been on this assignment had thought to indulge His Majesty in such a way. He had sent subsequent correspondence to the beautiful singer, only to receive no response. His surprise at receiving her note this morning, alerting him that she had just arrived in town, was quite understandable.

His gig pulled up to the pier and he deftly jumped out of the craft. He found himself facing a gaudy carriage of sorts. It was painted in yellow, orange, and green colors, and was quite old and rather worn out. The suspension on it looked to be no better than that of a farmer’s cart, making Granger cringe at the thought of how bumpy their ride from London must have been. Two footmen were attending the coach, both Italian in appearance, and upon his arrival, they quickly moved forward to open the door. Granger smiled as Carmella Bellini descended from the vehicle, managing to exit the tacky carriage with very contrasting grace and aplomb. It was no wonder that all of the men in the realm were chasing after her. She was svelte and graceful, but with a foreign exotic air. “Signora Bellini, what a pleasure to welcome you to Weymouth,” Granger said, bowing as he kissed her hand.

“I cannot imagine anyone I would rather see at this point, my lord,” she said pleasantly, and in perfect but accented English. Her voice was melodic even when she wasn’t singing, while her brown eyes twinkled brightly, making her seem vivacious. “Especially since that means that my onerous carriage ride is over.”

Granger laughed with her about that. “I am assuming that your arrival here indicates you are accepting my offer to join us aboard Endymion for a bit, Signora?” Granger asked.

“Provided you take good care of us, my lord,” she said, flirting with him. Another woman descended from the carriage, causing Granger no small amount of surprise. “This is my companion, Signora Sofia Martello.” Granger had expected her ‘chaperone’ to be an old and wizened woman, but this lady was probably the same age as Carmella, which seemed to be somewhere around 25. She was just as beautiful as Carmella, although with lighter coloring.

“I had no idea that I would have the honor of meeting two beautiful ladies, and not just one,” Granger said, bowing in turn to Sofia. “George Granger, Earl of Brentwood.”

“Everyone knows who you are, my lord,” Sofia said, and let him kiss her hand. Her English was good as well. That should make things considerably easier on board, negating the need for interpreters.

“If you ladies will follow me, I will escort you to Endymion, where we will make sure you are comfortable,” Granger said. He helped them into the boat while his gig’s crew stowed their baggage. It appeared that Carmella’s only servants were the two footmen and a maid. “When we get to the ship, they will lower a chair to lift you aboard. Jacobs will make sure you are secured, then I will meet you again on deck.”

“That sounds exciting, my lord,” Carmella said. Sofia viewed her with a bit of trepidation but said nothing. The gig rowed toward the ship, while the two Italians gazed at this vessel that would be their home for the short term. When they reached Endymion, Granger boarded the ship even as the bosun’s chair lowered itself into his gig. Granger just had time to greet Austen when he heard shrieks of delight as Carmella was hoisted up out of the gig and lowered onto the deck. Granger stepped forward to release her, and then they stood there, waiting for Sofia to be hauled aboard. “That was indeed exhilarating,” she said.

He escorted the two ladies over and introduced them to his officers while Austen detailed a few men to help her footmen get situated. Prince Genarro had been sent ashore on an errand, so he was unfortunately not there to greet them in their native tongue. “Allow me to show you to your quarters,” Granger said. He led them below to his cabin, where Winkler was waiting to greet them. “We have allocated these two compartments for you, and while they are small, I would anticipate that you would only use them for sleeping. During the day, you will most likely be out here,” he said, gesturing at the main area where the sunlight poured through the stern windows.

“And who will be in those cabins, my lord?” Signora Martello asked suspiciously, pointing to the compartments allocated to Granger.

“That is my cabin and my office,” Granger said.

“Being in such close confines with you, my lord, could negatively impact Signora Bellini’s reputation,” Martello objected.

Granger smiled. “Signora Martello, space aboard a warship is inevitably cramped. This is the safest place to accommodate you both while protecting your virtue.”

“I am not sure, my lord,” she said nervously, while Carmella said nothing. “It would perhaps be better for us to stay ashore and only board the ship when you require us.”

“That would be most disappointing,” Granger said. He had not foreseen that these women would create such an issue, but he was sensitive to their concerns. He noticed that his use of the word ‘disappointing’ alarmed both of them. “I would like to propose an alternative.”

“My lord?” Martello asked.

“Your maid can sleep out here. In addition, I will pledge my word that I will not enter your cabins, and since I am the only one here, that should serve to insulate you from worry,” Granger said smoothly. “If you require additional bonafides, I can station a guard in this cabin at night to ensure your safety, although you would have to conversely trust that the guard would not be so inflamed by your beauty that he would opt to breach his orders.”

“Your word is more than sufficient, my lord,” Carmella interceded. “I hope you do not find Signora Martello’s concerns to be offensive.”

“Not at all, madame,” Granger said with a smile. “I am glad you raised such an issue that may cause you discomfort so I could allay your fears.”

“We are most appreciative, my lord,” Martello said, a bit cowed by the whole exchange.

“Welcome aboard,” Granger said, then left them to get settled in.

 

 

 

Copyright © 2023 Mark Arbour; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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