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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.
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. 

Peace of Amiens - 14. Chapter 14

September 20, 1801

Weymouth, England

 

Granger walked down the street to the King’s house a bit apprehensively, which was unusual. After their unpleasant conversation at the King’s house and subsequent encounter on Endymion, Granger had gone ashore and met with Amelia, and they’d hammered out an agreement that basically gave Calvert his freedom to spend time with Granger, within limits. After that, things had been remarkably friendly, yet when Granger received a message from Calvert asking him to come ashore, and when Calvert made it sound urgent, alarm bells began sounding in Granger’s brain.

No sooner had he walked through the door than he was approached by the same chamberlain who had previously vexed him. His demeanor towards Granger had changed entirely, although Granger was fairly sure this had occurred due to Amelia’s directive, not because the man fancied that Granger was powerful in his own right. “My lord, would you follow me?”

“Of course,” Granger said, and was surprised to be led up the stairs. He walked down the hall to a room where the chamberlain scratched then entered. “Lord Brentwood, Your Royal Highness,” he said, then stepped aside to usher Granger in.

Amelia was in her bed, with a bevy of servants around her, but to her right sat Calvert, holding her hand in an affectionate way. She had been so lively just the day before yesterday, but now she looked as if she were exhausted, the kind of fatigue that comes from an illness, not from exertion. “Lord Brentwood, thank you for calling on me,” she said. She removed her hand from Calvert’s grip and offered it to Granger, causing all three of them to grin.

“I am glad to be of service to Your Royal Highness,” Granger said.

“I would speak to Lord Brentwood and Captain Calvert alone,” she announced. The room cleared but for Mrs. Goombe.

“Your Royal Highness, are you ailing?” Granger asked with concern.

“She is,” Calvert said, his familiar tone telling Granger that their conversation had become more casual. “She has experienced chills and night sweats for some weeks now and lately has become overcome with fatigue.” Granger paused to note how worried Calvert was about her, and how much he obviously cared about her as he resumed his grasp on her right hand.

“Consumption?” Granger asked. It sounded like the beginnings of that dreaded disease.

“They will not tell me that, but it is easy enough to deduce,” Amelia said sadly.

“What can I do to help?” Granger asked, wondering why he had been summoned.

“The King and Queen are willing to give Amelia permission to remain in Weymouth to continue her healing,” Calvert explained, mostly because Amelia seemed so weak that talking was a major exertion. “I was wondering if, instead, you might extend your hospitality and allow her to stay at your home in Cowes?”

“I am reluctant to impose, so please do not feel obligated,” Amelia added, then closed her eyes, as if to help herself recover from the effort.

Granger took her other hand. “You will have full use of my house in Cowes, and the staff will attend to your every need,” he promised. “There are even baths that we can heat up so they can help ease your chills.”

She nodded and squeezed his hand slightly. “Thank you, George,” Calvert said lovingly.

“You act like there was a possibility I would not accommodate you, when that is preposterous,” Granger admonished. “And knowing you both are there will give me a good excuse to escape from London.” Calvert chuckled and Amelia smiled slightly.

Their conversation was interrupted when the doors were flung open and the Queen entered. Granger and Calvert stood up so quickly it was almost as if they’d shot out of their chairs. “Your Majesty,” they said, almost in unison, and bowed. The Queen frowned, and almost became irate until she saw the governess, who was trying not to make eye contact with Her Majesty.

“It was nice of you to call on my daughter, Lord Brentwood, but she needs her rest,” the Queen said firmly.

“Your Majesty, I was just taking my leave,” Granger said, trying to keep his voice from betraying the nervousness he felt. He had done nothing wrong, but being caught with Calvert in Amelia’s bedroom seemed quite improper. “I came to offer the use of my home in Cowes to Her Royal Highness, in the hopes it may help speed her recovery.”

“I have heard of this palace your lordship has built,” The Queen said dourly, then quizzed Granger at length about its various features. “I am uncomfortable with Amelia’s being there when I have not yet seen it.”

“Then with Your Majesty’s permission, maybe I could host you on your way back to London?” Granger offered.

“We are to leave the day after tomorrow,” the Queen noted.

“With your consent, Your Majesty, perhaps I could take Her Royal Highness aboard Endymion and convey her to Cowes in advance of your arrival,” Granger said.

“Surely a voyage would be the death of her!” The Queen exclaimed.

“Begging your pardon, Your Majesty,” Calvert intervened. “As long as the weather is relatively calm and the winds are favorable, it would be a much smoother trip than bumping over the roads in Dorset and Hampshire.”

“You make a good point, Sir Francis,” the Queen said, then seemed to get some sort of resolve. “If the weather is nice on the day after tomorrow, we will all impose upon Lord Brentwood to convey us to Cowes. If it is not, we will go by carriage.”

“As Your Majesty wishes,” Granger said, then turned to Calvert. “When your schedule permits, Sir Francis, I would be obliged if you would repair aboard Endymion to help me with preparations to receive Their Majesties.”

“I will do so at my earliest convenience, my lord,” Calvert said formally.

“Then with Your Majesty’s permission, I will bid farewell,” Granger said. The Queen nodded. Granger spoke a few encouraging words to Amelia, then exited the King’s house.

September 22, 1801

HMS Endymion

Weymouth, England

 

The weather was clear and the winds were fair to Portsmouth, so that meant that Granger was stuck sailing the Royal Family to his home. He had dispatched a messenger to Cowes to warn Jenkins of the pending Royal arrival, along with a member of the Royal Household to ensure preparations were adequate. He was apprehensive that he was not at Cowes to ensure things were perfect, and he was even more nervous that it was Jenkins and not Cheevers who was in charge of things. Jenkins was not as organized and much more casual than Cheevers, which normally served Granger well for a summer retreat, but in this case, it could be disastrous.

He was struggling with these anxieties when Carmella came up on deck and smiled at him. “Good morning, my lord,” she said cheerfully.

“Just seeing your beautiful face makes it a good morning, signora,” Granger responded, and noted internally that her mere presence calmed him down considerably.

“I had to take extra care with my toilet this morning to try to eradicate the glow,” she said to him flirtatiously, frustrating Granger who was worried thoughts of last night would give him an erection here on his quarterdeck. Carmella was an accomplished lover, and she seemed to especially enjoy having sex with two men. Last night Genarro had joined them again. Granger glanced over at the young midshipman, who smiled briefly before turning away from him. Granger envied his olive skin that hid all but the most severe of his blushes.

“Their Majesties are arriving, my lord,” Austen said, pulling Granger out of his erotic reflections. He glanced at his groin to make sure he did not have an erection, then almost laughed at how embarrassing that would be when greeting the King and Queen.

“Thank you, Mr. Austen,” Granger said, and descended the gangway to welcome the Royal entourage. He stood patiently until the carriage stopped and the King and Queen disembarked. “Welcome, Your Majesties,” Granger said, bowing to both of them.

“We are pleased to be able to sail with you again, what what,” the King said.

“We are honored to host Your Majesty,” Granger said. He escorted them up the gangway, then down to his cabin, which had been completely thrown open to entertain them. “We have rigged a settee for Her Royal Highness, Princess Amelia.” Granger gestured to where that piece of furniture had been enhanced by several pillows to help her feel comfortable.

“That was most thoughtful of you,” the Queen said. Carmella appeared and began conversing with them, allowing Granger to detach himself to go see to the arrival of the others. The Queen was notoriously prudish, but both she and the King had taken a liking to Carmella.

He greeted the other princesses then went to attend to Amelia. She arrived on a stretcher of sorts, and looked no better than when he had seen her a few days ago. Calvert was with her, of course. “It is good to see you,” Calvert said, and they exchanged greetings.

“I have rigged a settee below for Your Royal Highness,” Granger told her. “We also have a canvas screen to cordon it off from the rest of the cabin should the activity become bothersome.”

“You are too kind, my lord,” she said. Once the passengers were aboard, their considerable amount of luggage was hoisted aboard as well. Granger and Austen exchanged a sympathetic look, as if to lament where all of it would fit. It was fortunate that Endymion had not been outfitted for foreign service where every nook and cranny would be packed with stores, and that gave them room for extra baggage.

“I fear we had to stow some things on the lower deck,” my lord,” Austen reported when everything had been loaded. That was where the men slept, so those off watch would find having baggage in their midst annoying, but it couldn’t be helped.

“You must make sure to post a guard,” Granger said. He had a high opinion of this crew, but he would risk no pilfering.

“I have already attended to that, my lord,” Austen said.

“Mr. Austen, as my time in command of this ship winds down, I would be remiss if I did not tell you that I have found you to be one of the most impressive things about Endymion,” Granger said.

Austen’s eyes bulged at such fulsome praise. “My lord, I do not know how to thank you for such kind words.”

“When you have your own command, and you have a first lieutenant who performs admirably, only then will you understand how valuable you were,” Granger said with a smile. “Raise the anchor. Topsails.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Austen said.

“I think we will let Mr. Kingsdale guide us out of port today,” he said, smiling at Austen.

“I think it will be good practice for him, my lord,” Austen said, smiling back.

“Mr. Kingsdale!” Granger called.

“My lord?” he asked.

“You have the ship. Take us out,” Granger ordered. Kingsdale’s eyes bulged, while most of the men on the quarterdeck tried to hide their smiles.

The King and Queen came up on deck and looked at Kingsdale in a considering way, since he was giving the orders. “Don’t take us to Ireland, Kingsdale,” the King joked.

“Aye aye, Your Majesty,” Kingsdale replied, getting a hearty laugh from the King.

The voyage was smooth, and they arrived at Spithead to find the Channel Fleet was in port. He smiled as he looked through his glass to see officers on the decks of the nearest ship stare in shock at the Royal Standard hoisted at Endymion’s main mast. It was not very often that another warship encountered the King at sea. “Your Majesties, I fear you are drawing a great deal of attention,” Granger said. “Mr. Austen, a reef in the topsails.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Austen said, and made that happen. Endymion slowed considerably, while the other warships manned their sides, with the men climbing into the rigging to get a glance at their King. As they passed the Bellerophon, the men began cheering, a cacophony that extended to each ship as they passed.

“My lord,” Carmella said, to get his attention.

“Yes, signora,” Granger said.

“I have prepared a special celebration for their Majesties, and I would like to perform it in the middle of this fleet, if your lordship would be so kind,” she said.

“A celebration, what what?” the King asked.

“If it pleases Your Majesty,” she said.

“Mr. Austen, bring us alongside the Ville de Paris,” Granger ordered, referencing the flagship of the Channel Fleet. Granger had served on that magnificent 110-gun ship that dwarfed Endymion.

While they were drifting towards the flagship, Carmella worked with Kingsdale to round up some twenty men, all of whom formed up along the gangway to the forecastle, where the band was stationed. Granger had no idea what she was doing, but he knew she was a show-woman, so trusted her judgment. Strangely enough, a small group of men rigged up some kind of contraption that looked a bit like a bosun’s chair. “We are ready, my lord, Your Majesties,” she said.

“Carry on, what what,” the King said.

The band began playing a few stanzas, then Carmella started singing God Save the King. The men along the gangway appeared to be her chorus, and sang the first and last stanzas with Carmella, but she performed the other verses solo. Her voice blended with the deep harmony of her chorus beautifully, but the song was even more beautiful when she sang alone. Her strong voice projected so well it must have been enjoyed easily by the ships just beyond the Ville de Paris. In a fleet that was usually quite noisy and active, he was impressed that the only sounds that were heard were the voices singing.

God save our gracious King,
Long live our noble King,
God save the King!
Send him victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us,
God save the King!

O Lord our God arise,
Scatter our enemies,
And make them fall!
Confound their politics,
Frustrate their knavish tricks,
On Thee our hopes we fix,
God save us all!

Not in this land alone,
But be God’s mercies known,
From shore to shore!
Lord make the nations see,
That men should brothers be,
And form one family,
The wide world o’er.

From every latent foe,
From the assassins blow,
God save the King!
O’er his thine arm extend,
For Britain’s sake defend,
Our father, prince, and friend,
God save the King!

Thy choicest gifts in store,
On him be pleased to pour,
Long may he reign!
May he defend our laws,
And ever give us cause,
To sing with heart and voice,
God save the King!

When she was done, there was loud cheering as the men on all the ships within earshot expressed their appreciation for the performance.

“Well done,” the Queen said approvingly, as she clapped.

While the jubilation subsided, Carmella hurried down to the gun deck while the King waved to the seamen on the other ships, getting cheers in return. After some five minutes, the band began to play the opening strains of Rule Britannia. As they did, the men raised the contraption which held Carmella dressed as Britannia, lifting her about fifteen feet above the quarterdeck. Carmella sang the verses, while her twenty men sang the chorus. In what was one of the most fascinating things Granger had seen, the rest of the men on Endymion and those on the other ships joined in for the choruses after the second time they’d been sung.

When Britain first, at Heaven's command
Arose from out the azure main;
This was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sung this strain:

"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
"Britons never will be slaves."

The nations, not so blest as thee,
Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall;
While thou shalt flourish great and free,
The dread and envy of them all.

"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
"Britons never will be slaves."

Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful, from each foreign stroke;
As the loud blast that tears the skies,
Serves but to root thy native oak.

"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
"Britons never will be slaves."

Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame:
All their attempts to bend thee down,
Will but arouse thy generous flame;
But work their woe, and thy renown.

"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
"Britons never will be slaves."

To thee belongs the rural reign;
Thy cities shall with commerce shine:
All thine shall be the subject main,
And every shore it circles thine.

"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
"Britons never will be slaves."

The Muses, still with freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coast repair;
Blest Isle! With matchless beauty crown'd,
And manly hearts to guard the fair.

"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
"Britons never will be slaves."

When the song was finished, the cheering was deafening. Granger watched as the seamen on the neighboring ships, as well as Endymion, yelled until they were almost hoarse. “Mr. Austen, topsails,” Granger ordered, ending the performance.

“That was marvelous, just marvelous,” the King said happily. Carmella fortunately appeared on deck, still dressed as Britannia. “I feel that it is my turn to bow to you,” he said playfully, as he did. The Queen and the princesses looked amused.

Granger left the Royal party to rave about Carmella, while Calvert joined him at the binnacle. “Your Lordship certainly does know how to put on a spectacle.”

“My lordship had nothing to do with that, and in fact I didn’t even know about it,” Granger said in a jesting way.

“Carmella put this together?” he asked, and was so impressed he was stunned.

“She did, evidently with some surreptitious help from my officers,” Granger replied.

“Your reputation in the fleet will soar now,” Calvert said.

“My reputation was already so high it was soaring to begin with,” Granger joked, because Calvert’s comment made him feel as if this whole performance was designed as a personal boast.

“This much is true, but it is even higher now,” Calvert said. “Cornwallis was smiling broadly the whole time.” Cornwallis was the admiral currently commanding the Channel Fleet.

“I suppose it is important to stay in his good graces in the event that I am posted to the Channel Fleet in due course,” Granger said, maintaining his joking demeanor.

“You will be sent wherever Nelson is commanding, and we both know it,” Calvert said. The crew conned Endymion to a spot close to his house then dropped the anchor.

“Mr. Austen, I must go ashore and see to the arrival of the Royal party; I will trust you to handle things on this end,” Granger said.

“I can assist as well, my lord,” Calvert said. Granger sympathized with Calvert, who was clearly dying to be back in command of his own ship, so even attending to loading baggage would probably be a tonic at this point.

“Thank you, Sir Francis, but Mr. Austen has things well in hand,” Granger said. “I am relying on you to see that Princess Amelia is conveyed safely ashore.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” they both said. While the Royal party was assembling, Granger took Winkler over to his house to await their arrival. He brought Travers and Genarro along to see that he and the staff were alerted when Their Majesties arrived, and to help shepherd them ashore.

As soon as the King and Queen boarded Granger’s gig, he went to the pier to greet them. “Welcome, Your Majesties,” he said.

“This is beautiful, what what!” the King exclaimed, marveling at Granger’s home and especially at his fountains.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Granger said. “My wife was responsible for my other residences, but Mr. Nash helped me create this one to reflect my own style.”

“It is quite beautiful,” the Queen said. He led them past the fountains, giving them the tour he gave to guests where he explained which fountains were genuine Roman artifacts and which ones were crafted by British sculptors. They seemed impressed and quite satisfied when Granger guided them to their rooms.

“Supper is being prepared, Your Majesties,” Granger said. “We will dine when you are ready.”

“Excellent,” the King said, and headed into his room.

The Queen paused and gestured for Granger to join her off to the side. “Lord Brentwood, that was such a marvelous way to travel that we have decided to impose upon you to take us to London.”

“I will be more than happy to accommodate you, ma’am, and will pray for good weather for our journey,” he said. Inside, he was not so complacent. Going to London would require more than a day, and that would mean that sleeping quarters would have to be provided for all of these people.

“I have a favor to ask you,” she said sotto voce. “A bit of a practical joke on the Prince of Wales.”

“Your Majesty?” Granger asked.

“I am dispatching a note alerting him that we will call at Brighton on our way,” she said in a conspiratorial way. “When we get to that port, I would be obliged if you would note in your log that the weather did not permit us to enter the harbor.”

Granger could not stop himself from laughing at that. The Prince of Wales would be in an absolute panic, planning how to entertain his parents, only to find that they weren’t actually going to visit. “I will be more than happy to do that, Your Majesty.”

It had been a very long day, and not an easy one, but Granger still had one thing to accomplish. “This home is like a wonderland,” Carmella said as she slipped her arm through his.

“Caroline was responsible for refurbishing Brentwood and my townhouse, but with this home I was able to more fully indulge my own whims,” Granger said.

“And just like you, it is extremely attractive and full of surprises,” she said, making Granger blush.

“And now there is one more task we must complete,” Granger said. She looked at him curiously, waiting for him to explain. “You must meet my children.”

“I must,” she said, and smiled as Granger escorted her up the stairs to the children’s area.

He opened the door and found a tranquil scene, with Mr. Pence reading to them as if trying to calm them down before they went to sleep. “Father!” Charlotte shouted, having spotted him first. There was a miniature stampede as they ran over and embraced him.

“I want you to meet Carmella Bellini,” he said, introducing her.

“I’m William,” his son said. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, too,” she said, smiling at him. Granger was very proud of how polite his children were, especially Alexander who was unpredictable. He was happier still at how pleasant Carmella was to them.

“Signora Bellini will be staying with us in London,” Granger explained to them, unsure as to how to explain this relationship to his children.

“Please, I would much prefer if you would all call me Carmella,” she insisted. It was really unheard of for them to call an adult by her first name, but they all seemed to appreciate that gesture except for William. He’d scowled quite obviously at her until he’d caught the look of disapproval in Granger’s eyes and modified his expression.

“The King and Queen are here, along with the princesses,” Granger told them. “Tomorrow, I will introduce you to them, so tonight we will practice.”

“We get to meet the Queen?” Charlotte asked, her eyes showing her surprise.

“You do,” Granger said. “So let us pretend I am the King. Show me how well you curtsy.”

“Your Majesty,” she said, and did a very graceful curtsy.

“That was well done,” Granger said, then spent the next half hour coaching his children on how to greet their sovereigns.

September 23, 1801

Cowes, England

 

An exhausted George Granger stood on the dock, waiting for his next visitor. He was not tired from dealing with the Royal family; rather he was worn out because he’d spent the night with Francis. Even his large house did not have a sufficient capacity to accommodate the Royal Family and their entourage, which meant that some people had ended up sharing a room. Granger had had no problem with that at all. He forced himself not to grin as Admiral Sir William Cornwallis hoisted himself out of his boat, followed by Captain of the Fleet John Sutton, and Flag Captain John Whitby. “Welcome Sir William, gentlemen,” Granger said genially, pasting on the façade of a courtier.

“It is good to see you again, my lord,” Cornwallis said. “You know Sutton and Whitby?”

“It is good to see you again, sir,” Granger said to Sutton. Sutton had been very helpful when Granger had been arguing with the Corsicans at Bastia.

“A pleasure as always, my lord,” Sutton responded. Granger met Whitby, who looked to be about the same age as Granger, only he seemed much wearier. Based on how tired Granger was, he thought that was saying something about Whitby.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a performance like you put on yesterday, my lord,” Cornwallis said affably.

“Thank you, sir, but I really must credit Signora Bellini for orchestrating it,” Granger said. He gave them a tour of his fountains and gardens, then led them to a table overlooking them where there were drinks and snacks waiting. “I have a dilemma, Sir William, and I am hoping you will assist me.”

“What do you need?” Cornwallis asked suspiciously. That he’d omitted the ‘my lord’ at the end seemed to indicate that this conversation had become casual but professional.

“Sir, Her Majesty informed me yesterday that she had so enjoyed sailing to Portsmouth, she wanted me to convey Their Majesties to London,” Granger said.

“That is what you get for being such a good host,” Sutton said, getting chuckles from all of them.

“Indeed, but I do not have room for the Royal Family, their entourage, and their baggage for an overnight voyage without seriously impeding the fighting efficiency of Endymion, sir,” Granger said. “I am loath to sail through the Channel in that state.”

“What would you have me do?” Cornwallis asked.

“I am wondering if you could detach a frigate to escort us, such that I could stow some of Endymion’s guns below and create room for passengers on her gun deck, sir,” Granger suggested.

“I don’t suppose St. Vincent has sanctioned this,” Cornwallis said, hiding a smile.

“He has not, but I would posit that the King outranks him,” Granger said with a smile.

“Indeed he does,” Cornwallis said. “Sutton, we’ll detach the Fisgard and Amelia to escort Endymion to London. Draft orders that they’re to return immediately after Endymion reaches the Thames. I don’t want St. Vincent poaching my frigates.”

“Aye aye, Sir William,” Sutton said.

“Thank you, Sir William,” Granger said. He led them up and showed them to the house, then the King.

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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