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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 - 17. Chapter 17

October 10, 1801

#10 Downing Street

London, England

 

“As you can see, I could have easily stayed at Cowes for a few more days,” Granger said to Daventry in frustration, as the carriage stopped in front of the Prime Minister’s residence. He’d hurried back on the fifth, only to be left cooling his heels until today. That had angered him considerably, which was probably not the best way to start this meeting.

“I cannot always divine the whims of these politicians, George,” Daventry replied in a snippy way. He was no happier about being marginalized than Granger was.

“I was here already, so it was no matter to me,” Cavendish joked, getting dour looks from his two friends.

“In any event, let us go and see what Mr. Addington wants,” Granger said, and alighted from the carriage, followed by Daventry. A footman helped Cavendish. Granger and Daventry looked away because they knew their friend was sensitive about the loss of his leg. They walked up to the open door and entered, then were guided immediately into a conference room where Mr. Addington and Lord Hawkesbury waited for them. The contrast between the two groups of men was quite stark. Granger wore his best uniform, complete with his decorations, something he didn’t enjoy because there were so many he was worried they appeared gaudy. Daventry and Cavendish were dressed quite fashionably, with perfectly tailored clothes in dark blue and khaki in Cavendish’s case, and black and khaki in Daventry’s. All three of them had stylishly cropped hair. Addington wore clothes that were about ten to fifteen years behind the times and his hair was long, much like the king. Hawkesbury wore fashionable clothes, but he was so ungainly it was probably impossible to get them to fit well, and while his hair was cropped short, it wasn’t done in a very flattering way. Sartorially, Granger, Daventry, and Cavendish put those members of the cabinet to shame. Sadly, it did not seem to bother those two gentlemen.

“Welcome, my lords,” Addington said pleasantly. Granger had originally been dismissive of Addington because of his plebeian ancestry but had to grudgingly admit that the man was truly likable.

“It is good to see Your Excellency,” Granger said, and similar greetings were exchanged between the others.

“What a pleasant surprise to see you here, Cavendish,” Hawkesbury said, his way of pointing out that Cavendish wasn’t invited.

“I am glad that your lordship is glad to see me,” Cavendish quipped. “That is not a universal occurrence.”

“Cavendish is responsible for managing my votes in the Commons,” Granger said. “Lord Rugby informed me that you wanted my support for the passage of the treaty in Parliament, and for that I needed to have Cavendish present.”

“I did not mean to imply his lordship was unwelcome,” Hawkesbury said.

“Excellent,” Granger said. Addington gestured for them to have a seat and poured them each a glass.

“I would, of course, hope all of you will support the treaty,” Addington said.

“Perhaps Your Excellency would be kind enough to explain the terms,” Cavendish said.

“We are required to give up all of the colonial possessions we have won except for Trinidad and Ceylon. The Cape is to remain an open city,” Hawkesbury said. “The French must evacuate Naples and Egypt.”

“It appears that we are giving up much more than the French,” Daventry said in annoyance.

“The French have agreed to withdraw from most of the Italian peninsula and have agreed to preserve Portuguese sovereignty,” Addington added. “The Newfoundland fishery rights are to be restored to their antebellum status, and we have agreed to recognize the Seven Islands Republic in the Adriatic.”

“It is disturbing to evacuate all of the colonies and territories that we conquered in order to save the Portuguese and Neapolitans,” Daventry said with a scowl.”

“Those provisions do not bother me at all,” Granger said. Daventry looked at him, clearly expecting Granger to explain. “If we go to war with the French again, those possessions are easily snapped up.”

“You think they will be that easy to reconquer?” Hawkesbury asked.

“I do, provided the government maintains the strength of the Royal Navy,” Granger said. “Those colonies will be cut off from all hope of reinforcement and their trade will be destroyed. They cannot long survive like that.”

“That is refreshing to know,” Addington said. “I hope you will make that point in the Lords.”

“I will do my best,” Granger said. “Most importantly, what is to happen to Malta?”

“That has been the biggest sticking point,” Hawkesbury said. “We will evacuate Malta, and the island will be restored to the Order of St. John.”

“Your Excellency, in that situation, Malta will be at the mercy of even a small French force. I cannot support a treaty that allows the French to control Malta,” Granger said firmly. “It is the gateway to Egypt and ultimately India.”

“That is not our intention, but if we retain Malta, there is no peace,” Hawkesbury said. “So what would you prefer?”

“I would prefer to have Malta,” Granger said candidly.

“I would not,” Hawkesbury said haughtily. “I think we have reached a compromise solution.”

“I am most interested to hear this,” Daventry said skeptically.

“Malta will be returned to the Knights of St. John, but her security will be guaranteed by the signatories of the treaty, and further, a garrison for the island’s security will be provided by nations to be decided during the finalization of the treaty’s terms.”

“And which nations will be willing to garrison Malta?” Cavendish asked.

“We are working to convince Russia, Austria, or Naples, to fulfill that role” Hawkesbury explained.

“What if those three nations are unwilling, or dilatory in taking up their duties?” Granger asked.

“Our troops will remain until a garrison has been established to replace them,” Hawkesbury said. “We are fairly sure that the Neapolitans, at least, will provide such a force.”

“It is not ideal, but it seems workable,” Granger said grudgingly.

“I think, my lord, that you will find that the cabinet largely feels as you do,” Addington said. “We are hoping this peace lasts, but if it does not, at least it will give us some badly needed breathing room to repair the country’s finances.”

“Do you trust Napoleon Bonaparte?” Daventry asked them.

“I am trying to give him the benefit of the doubt,” Addington said.

“That is my approach as well,” Hawkesbury agreed.

“I do not,” Daventry said firmly, answering his own question.

“Neither do I,” Granger agreed. “I think that he is a warrior who is only happy in that milieu, and he will be unable to maintain peace.”

“Even a warrior gets fatigued,” Addington commented.

“An important thing to note,” Daventry said, “is that when France is at war, her generals are away from Paris where they can’t cause trouble, and the cost of maintaining the French Army can be pawned off on those nations unlucky enough to be hosting it.”

“So you would have us remain at war, Lord Rugby?” Hawkesbury asked acidly.

“I would, rather, advise you to maintain our defenses at a higher degree of readiness than peace would otherwise mandate,” Daventry replied.

“I think that is vital, especially as regards the fleet,” Granger advised. He knew that comment would be considered self-serving since he was an officer in said fleet and he currently did not have a command, but regardless, it was true.

“We are planning to do just that, Lord Brentwood,” Addington said. “Lord St. Vincent plans to use the peace to reform the dockyards. He has asked us to inquire as to whether you would be willing to help him with that venture.”

Granger stared at them and felt himself all but cornered. The last thing he wanted to do was to get involved in St. Vincent’s crusade against the dockyards. He would have to listen to St. Vincent rant endlessly about how corrupt the dockyards were, and even worse than that would be the tirades he would vent on those poor souls who worked there. At the same time, if he turned this down, he would also be turning down a command, at least in the short term. There was no way that St. Vincent would appoint him to a ship if he refused to help with dockyard reform. “His lordship flatters me, but if there is to be peace, I think I will use that opportunity to spend some time at home and unengaged, at least for a bit, in order to get my own affairs in order.”

“You have most definitely earned it,” Addington said, then smiled. “I sense that you are also reluctant to involve yourself in St. Vincent’s battle.”

“That is an astute observation, Your Excellency,” Granger said with a smile, relieved that Addington understood why he was turning down the opportunity.

“Both of us share your concerns about the trustworthiness of the French,” Hawkesbury said. “You must remember, though, that the eyes of Europe are upon us, and we must not seem to be unreasonable.”

“Watching out for our interests is hardly unreasonable,” Daventry quipped.

“If we assert that the French are untrustworthy, the rest of Europe will ask us for proof of that,” Granger said, seeing the situation all too clearly. “We have nothing concrete, since we have not tried being at peace with them.”

“Exactly,” Hawkesbury said, and looked at Granger with more consideration. “We realize this is a risk, and that we may well end up back at war with the French, but the rest of the world will see that we have tried, and we must not be the ones who overtly break the peace.”

“I understand,” Daventry said.

“Lord Brentwood, since you have so adeptly dodged St. Vincent’s plan to enlist you in his campaign against the dockyards, I have another use for your skills, albeit a brief one,” Hawkesbury said.

“After that, you can find a remote part of the country to hide from St. Vincent,” Addington added, getting a laugh from everyone. Granger joined them, but his curiosity was piqued.

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

“It is actually an assignment for both of you,” Addington said. Granger began to wonder what kind of nightmare they had dreamed up this time.

“Next month, we will be sending Marquess Cornwallis to France to negotiate the actual treaty,” Hawkesbury said.

“He is an odd choice,” Daventry said. “I would have thought the assignment would be worthy of a much more skilled diplomat.”

“Cornwallis is a general, so Bonaparte should be better disposed towards him,” Hawkesbury said.

“I think that is highly unlikely,” Granger said. “Lord Cornwallis will find himself dealing with Bonaparte’s rumored erratic temper, and Monsieur de Talleyrand, who is a very adept diplomat.”

“That is why we are hoping to send Lord Rugby with him to help the process along,” Hawkesbury said, his eyes falling onto Daventry.

“So I will go to France as Cornwallis’s assistant, he will make a hash of things, I will have to fix them, and he will get all the credit,” Daventry commented acidly.

Addington sighed. “Cornwallis has already volunteered and been accepted for this mission. It is impossible to remove him at this point. That is why we want you to go, to make sure the treaty gets done.”

“And while Cornwallis may get public credit, we will know to whom we owe our thanks,” Hawkesbury said.

“I will consider your proposal when it has been proposed, and I know what will be expected of me and what my rewards will be,” Daventry said in annoyance.

“This is all fine and good, but I would like to discuss something far more important,” Granger said. They looked at him quizzically. “I want to know what my role is to be?”

Addington smiled, appreciating that Granger had brought out some humor to lighten the tense atmosphere of the room. “As you have been to France more recently than any of us and you know most of the important people in the government, and since you are on friendly terms with Talleyrand, we would like you to go to France with Daventry and Cornwallis to introduce them.”

“You would not be expected to remain in France for more than a month,” Hawkesbury added.

“I am willing to do that provided that the proposals to us are amenable to Lord Rugby,” Granger said, telling them that he wanted to know what was in it for both of them, and confirming that he and Daventry were a united team.

“Excellent,” Addington said. “There is one more thing, but it is a bit more delicate to discuss.”

“Your Excellency?” Daventry asked.

“Bonaparte has developed what appears to be a strong aversion to Lord Brentwood,” Hawkesbury said.

“Hard to blame him,” Daventry teased. Granger was too shocked to let Daventry’s humor impact him.

“To me?” Granger asked. “Why?”

“I do not know, but perhaps this will explain the issue,” Hawkesbury said, and handed Granger a sealed envelope. “This came to us courtesy of Mr. Otto. It is addressed to you, and as you can see, considerable effort has been made to prove that it has not been tampered with.” Mr. Otto was the Frenchman in charge of prisoner exchanges but had also been the go-between in negotiating this preliminary agreement.

Granger studied the envelope and found it sewn up carefully and sealed with wax. He looked for signs that it had been opened surreptitiously, and found nothing. He handed it to Cavendish, who in turn handed it to Daventry. “It appears pristine,” Cavendish pronounced.

“Then let us see what message Mr. Otto has brought for me,” Granger said with a playfulness that belied the anxiety he felt. Addington handed him a letter opener, and Granger carefully broke the seals and took out the letter. “It is from Monsieur de Talleyrand.”

“He is a friend of yours, is he not?” Hawkesbury asked hopefully.

“Inasmuch as Talleyrand is capable of having a friendship in the political environment, I think our relationship can be described as such,” Granger said, making them chuckle.

“We would be most obliged to hear what he has to say,” Addington said. He was tempted to tell them that the letter was addressed to him, and that he would read it and share what he wanted to after, but that was just being petulant.

“I will read it to you,” Granger said. Talleyrand had naturally written to him in French, so he translated it into English as he went.

Mr Dear Lord Brentwood,

I truly hope this communiqué finds you in good health. The latest news that has reached me is that you have succeeded in capturing Carmella Bellini as your mistress, something that I am sure has aroused the envy of the men in England, and perhaps further afield. I behold your wanton and lustful ways with jealousy as I live my life fully focused on the affairs of state and removed from the charm of female company.

(He had to stop as they all laughed at that, since Talleyrand was a notorious womanizer.)

Ironically, the reason that I have crafted this particular missive has to do, in part, with the way women apparently raise their petticoats when faced with your charm and your looks. Upon his return from Egypt, the First Council of France, His Excellency Napoleon Bonaparte, was told by friends, or perhaps spies, that his wife, Josephine, had engaged in sexual relations with an English prisoner. Since you were known to be on parole here during that time, his suspicion has landed on you. I considered it ungentlemanly to inquire or otherwise inform myself if you had had any liaisons while you were in Paris, so I could not readily disavow the rumors.

We have reached a preliminary agreement for peace, one that despite requiring France to make considerable concessions is a positive event for both of our countries. I am concerned that the First Council will have difficulty agreeing to the final treaty’s terms if this issue continues to fester. Just prior to writing this letter, I attempted to reason with him and was treated to a relatively strong statement from him that he bears you considerable animosity for bedding his wife while you were enjoying a comfortable parole in Paris. He was most assertive in reminding me that at the same time that this affair was presumably playing out, he was stranded in Egypt, blockaded by the very fleet of which you were an officer.

It is my opinion that the only way to resolve this issue is for you to face the First Council in person and attempt to remove this thorn from his side. I would therefore recommend that you accompany the delegation that comes first to Paris before it moves on to Amiens, where the details of the treaty will be hammered out. I am fairly confident that you will be safe, and I cherish our friendship to such a degree that I am willing to vouch for that to the degree that I can. During your visit, it would please me if you would be my guest at my home here in Paris. Please know that I have your best interests at heart, but my main focus is on the peace that must happen for the good of the world.

Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord

 

He could sense that the others were close to laughing at him, which made Granger grimace. It was no surprise that Daventry started the ribbing. “I have heard that Madame Bonaparte is quite alluring.”

“Some may find her to be so,” Granger replied stiffly.

“My debauchery has often been derided, but I do not recall that it was ever sufficient to cause a major diplomatic problem with a foreign power,” Daventry quipped, while Cavendish snickered.

“In fact, you performed quite well with the Dowager Empress in Russia,” Granger shot back, only that just made Daventry smirk at him.

“Based on this information, I would suggest that it is vital for you to do as Monsieur de Talleyrand has requested,” Hawkesbury said.

“I will most likely do that, Hawkesbury, but I intend to take a few days to ponder my actions,” Granger said. He was not about to let these men use this incident to bully him. “In the meantime, that should give you gentlemen time to complete your proposals for Lord Rugby and me.”

“Did your lordship have an intimate relationship with Madame Bonaparte?” Addington asked.

He recoiled as Granger glared at him. It was incredibly crass for him to ask such a question, and he saw that even Hawkesbury had recoiled at that faux pas. “Monsieur de Talleyrand was polite enough not to ask such a question. I would expect that Your Excellency and Your Excellency’s cabinet would accord me the same respect.”

“My apologies, Lord Brentwood,” Addington said, abashed. “We will communicate with Lord Rugby about our proposals.”

“Excellent,” Daventry said. Granger, Daventry, and Cavendish then got up and left.

They said nothing until they got into the carriage, then of course Cavendish and Daventry opted to laugh at him. That lasted until they realized he was not going to laugh with them. “I am wondering, now that it is just us, if you would reveal the extent of your relationship with Joséphine Bonaparte?” Cavendish asked.

“Did you fuck her?” Daventry asked, and that crass statement actually did make Granger laugh.

“I did not,” Granger said. “But I know who did.”

“There was another Englishmen being held prisoner in Paris?” Daventry asked.

“Eastwyck!” Cavendish said, figuring it out. “He was with you in Paris. Did he sleep with Madame Bonaparte?”

“I am fairly certain that he did,” Granger said.

“Then this is relatively easy,” Daventry said. “All you have to do is go to Paris and tell Bonaparte that it wasn’t you; it was Eastwyck.”

“And what will Bonaparte do with that information?” Granger asked. “Will he turn his anger against Eastwyck, and send agents to make him pay for his indiscretion?”

That possibility squeezed out any humor Daventry and Cavendish may have retained. “You can hardly reveal that to Bonaparte if it will end up as a death sentence for Eastwyck,” Cavendish said.

“Especially since I do not know for certain that Eastwyck was with her,” Granger said, although that was largely a fabrication. He was all but certain Eastwyck had actually had sex with Madame Bonaparte. “I think that I should try to contact Eastwyck and get his input.”

“He lives up north, does he not?” Cavendish asked.

“Yes, in Durham,” Granger said. Eastwyck had been wounded in battle against the Barbary pirates and had been sent home to recover. Thanks to Granger’s influence, the Admiralty had posted Eastwyck as a Captain and let him retire on his half pay. “I am not sure that I have time to get a message to him and receive a response.”

“I am not sure what he would tell you anyway,” Daventry said. “The only thing that you may get from him is his agreement that you may reveal that it was he who copulated with Josephine. I suspect you are unwilling to do that anyway.”

Granger nodded. “You are right. I will have to deal with this on my own.”

“So you are going to Paris with me?” Daventry asked.

“Yes, but I am not going to Amiens,” Granger said. “I will leave managing Cornwallis solely to you.”

“Thank you for that privilege,” Daventry said sarcastically.

They got back to Portland Place and Daventry went off to attend to his own affairs while Granger went into his library, planning to finish his correspondence. He found that the more esteemed he became, the more letters he ended up writing. He was a little surprised that Cavendish followed him, even more surprised when he shut the door, and more surprised still when he took a seat in one of the large leather chairs. “I sense that you are worried about making sure this issue does not get out.”

“It seems to be counterproductive to have the world know that Bonaparte hates me,” Granger said, but it was more of a question.

“Perhaps, but I think it ultimately will get out, and when it does, I think it will be a good thing,” Cavendish observed.

“Why would that be a good thing?” Granger asked, confused.

“Because it is a further endorsement of your attraction to women,” Cavendish said. “It is one thing to marry, another to have a mistress, but to be a rogue who seduces the wives of heads of state is at an entirely different level.”

Granger nodded, understanding clearly what Cavendish was saying. “The problem with that is that I may end up being pursued by crazed women,” he said, smiling.

“Most men would not consider that to be a problem at all,” Cavendish said wryly.

“This man does,” Granger said. “In any event, I must disavow that I have had sexual relations with Madame Bonaparte, so that should end such speculation.”

Cavendish shook his head at Granger, who occasionally showed signs of naivete like this. “That will not stifle tongues from wagging. It will remain in the back of people’s minds.”

“As long as this does not derail the peace, I agree it may end up being a good thing,” Granger acknowledged. “Thank you for explaining it to me.”

“We are a team,” Cavendish said.

“We are indeed,” Granger agreed. They stood up and embraced, an embrace of friendship such that the passion was still there, but was restrained.

Granger walked out, looked into the drawing room, and smiled. Carmella had not been impressed with Caroline’s sense of style, so Granger had enlisted her to help him redesign things a bit. She’d brought in colors that were bright but muted, and added nice touches to make it seem more cheerful. In addition, there were always fresh flowers, something Caroline had never focused on, and that made the entire home more fragrant. In essence, she had brought a feminine touch to his home. He remembered how when he’d taken command of Calliope, he’d found his cabin to be done mostly in colors like primrose that had made the entire thing seem like a woman’s boudoir. Carmella’s approach was so much more tasteful. She added touches, not radical changes, and it was perfect.

“You are back,” she said pleasantly, as she walked up and put her arm through his.

“I am, and I have just been admiring this room and how nice your modifications are,” he said to her.

“I am glad that you are pleased,” she said. He leaned in to give her a nice kiss.

“I have a present for you,” Granger said, and led her back into his library. He opened his safe and pulled out a long box.

“I love presents,” she said, making him chuckle. He handed her the box, she opened it, and gasped. “These are beautiful! Are they rubies?”

“They are indeed,” Granger said. He led her over to a mirror and helped her put the necklace on. He had taken some of the rubies he had managed to seize from the Guild in Rhodes and had a jeweler intersperse them with diamonds, with the whole thing set in gold.

“Look how dazzling they are!” she said, gaping at them. Granger almost chuckled, thinking about how the Guild had managed to find expert gem cutters, and he had now become the beneficiary of their attention to detail. “They are gorgeous!”

“Yet something is still missing,” he said, smiling playfully. He retrieved a smaller box from his safe and handed that one to her as well.

She excitedly opened it. “Earrings! These match the necklace perfectly.”

“That was the plan,” Granger said. She gave him a huge hug.

“Thank you, George,” she said. “They are wonderful.”

“I am glad you like them,” Granger replied.

“I am not sure how I can repay you for such generosity,” she said a bit nervously.

“I know exactly how you may repay me,” he flirted, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive way. She frowned at him, because while she was his mistress, she did not want to seem like a whore. “You can teach me how to speak Italian.”

“We will see if you learn as fast as your children,” she said.

“You are teaching them to speak Italian?” Granger asked, shocked.

“I am,” she said. “And I am even trying to help poor Mr. Pence along, but he cannot pronounce the words correctly.” Granger laughed at that, then led Carmella up to his room and made love to her.

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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