Any Approaching Enemy: A Novel of the Napoleonic Wars (11 page)

“He did, possibly,” she answered doubtfully. “But I should not say.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Exactly?”

“Word by word.”

She blushed a pale pink. “He said, ‘Where in damnation is he?’ ”

“I see,” Charles said. “Did he say where he was going with his fleet?”

“No. Is it important?”

“I have been searching for him,” Charles said flatly. “I would like to know where in … heavens … he is.”

“I am sorry, I did not think to ask.”

Charles smiled. “That’s all right,” he said. “Tell me, what is your opinion of our Horatio Nelson?”

She looked seriously ahead. “I can see why thou thinks him a great man. He is very gracious and of considerable charm.”

Charles nodded in agreement.

“But in some ways he is like a child in his emotions. I believe him to be very lonely.”

SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON received them in the library of his villa, a comfortable book-lined room with numerous curios and statuettes here and there, and an excellent view looking out on Mount Vesuvius. The diplomat was a slender man of medium height with a high forehead and a polished manner that quickly put Charles at ease.

“So you have discovered your husband at last,” Hamilton said to Penny. To Charles, he half bowed. “Captain Edgemont, I am honored to make your acquaintance. Mrs. Edgemont has spoken of you at length, and of course, I have read of your exploits at the Battle of Cape St. Vincent. There was also an affair with a Spanish frigate, was there not?”

“Your servant, sir,” Charles answered, bowing in his turn. “Thus far I have been fortunate in war.”

“And in love, I should say,” Hamilton added with a wink to Penny. “I have ordered tea, won’t you please sit.”

“William Hamilton,” Penny said directly, “I will leave thee to speak in confidence with my husband. I must find Molly Bridges and see to the transfer of our luggage.”

“Certainly, my dear,” Hamilton said. When she had left the room, he turned to Charles. “I do love Quakers, don’t you? Your wife and I have had the most delightful disagreements. There’s no artifice with them; one always knows where one stands.”

“Yes,” Charles said, finding no argument there.

The tea arrived in an elaborate silver service and was poured out by a smartly liveried butler. “Now, how may I be of assistance to you?” Hamilton said, leaning back in his chair.

“There are three things, Sir William,” Charles said. “The first is, would it be possible to provide for the resupply of my two ships? The brig
Pylades
is also in my company.”

“That can be arranged. Admiral Nelson forwarded a similar request on behalf of the crown when he visited these three days past. It has been approved by the government of His Majesty, King Ferdinand. If you would prepare a listing of your requirements, I will see if it can be done tomorrow.”

“Thank you, I have it here, sir.” Charles removed a folded paper from his coat pocket and passed it across. “Secondly,
Pylades
has lost her mizzenmast in an action off Genoa and is sorely in need of a replacement. Do you think we might obtain suitable mast sections in the port?”

Hamilton frowned. “It may be possible. I shall have to make inquiries. You must understand that the situation is delicate and the court is extremely wary of offending the French, as well they should be. The double kingdom cannot be seen to be of too much assistance to the enemies of the republic. Still, Nelson’s appearance with a powerful squadron may have bolstered their courage somewhat. I should know one way or the other by tomorrow.”

“Any assistance you may render would be greatly appreciated.”

“Rest assured I will do my utmost,” Hamilton answered, “but I am not certain as to the outcome.”

“My third point you may have anticipated,” Charles said, moving to his central concern. “Do you know where I can rendezvous with Admiral Nelson’s squadron?”

Hamilton smiled. “I understand that he is quite vexed about the absence of his frigates.”

“But he was reinforced,” Charles said.

“With seventy-fours, and I believe a fifty and a brig only. He has no frigates and, I am told, sorely feels their want.” Sir William leaned forward and steepled his fingers. “I have only the slightest notion of Nelson’s intentions. I don’t believe that he knew them himself when he departed Naples. Let me tell you what I do know so that you may draw your own conclusions.”

Charles nodded.

“The French, as you are no doubt aware, have swept the field in northern Italy. The Kingdom of the Two Sicilies is practically the only outpost on the peninsula that has not fallen under their sway. The commander of the Republic’s Army of Italy is a very young Corsican, Brigadier Napoleone Buonaparte, a protégé of the powerful deputy Paul Barres in Paris.”

The name Buonaparte sparked a chord in Charles’s memory. Barres he had never heard of. “Yes?” he said, wondering what all of this had to do with Nelson’s whereabouts.

“Point is,” Hamilton said, perhaps sensing Charles’s impatience, “Italy is now subdued, at least all of it that France has any interest in, and Austria is driven from the war. This young Corsican is said to be brilliant, ruthless, and, most important, highly ambitious. I have heard from several usually reliable sources that he has regrouped the Army of Italy; loaded them on transports in Toulon, Genoa, and other ports; and sailed with such French warships as were available for protection. The assembled flotilla includes fully thirteen ships of the line, including the hundred-and-twenty-four-gun L’Orient, a number of frigates, and some two hundred and eighty transports. The army on board is said to number in excess of fifty thousand men.”

At last, Charles thought, he was coming to the point. This was obviously the expeditionary force that the American at Cádiz had been so exercised about. “What is their destination?” he asked.

“If I knew that, I would know everything,” Hamilton answered. “It is the same question your admiral asked. It is the question everyone asks. I don’t know their objective and can only speculate. I have heard that the fleet stopped to collect additional resources along the eastern coast of Corsica and has been seen sailing south to the east of Sardinia. I relayed all this to Nelson.”

Charles thought this not very helpful information. From the southeastern tip of Sardinia, the French could have sailed anywhere. He opened his mouth to speak, but Hamilton raised his hand.

“I received an additional item of intelligence only this morning. Malta has fallen to the French on the twelfth of June, nine days ago. The island is certainly not their final objective. One doesn’t need fifty thousand men to reduce the defenses there.”

“And your speculation as to French intentions?”

“The obvious choices are Sicily itself, or the eastern Mediterranean: Crete, Egypt, or the Levant. If I were a betting man, I would put my gold on Egypt.”

Charles thought this fanciful. “Why would anyone, the French especially, want to strike at Egypt?”

“Why indeed?” Hamilton said, raising his eyebrows. “Except to use it as a stepping-stone to deprive England of her most prestigious and lucrative possession: India. Without the riches of India, His Majesty would be hard-pressed to prosecute the war.”

Charles chewed on this for a moment. “I see,” he said doubtfully. “You think Nelson may have sailed for Alexandria?”

“Nelson sailed three days ago without knowledge of the capture of Malta. His course was southward, through the Strait of Messina. If he learns of Malta’s fall, which he must, he may well come to the same conclusion.”

“Thank you, sir,” Charles said.

“Our business is concluded, then?” It was a statement as much as a question.

Charles nodded his assent.

“Good. Shall we rejoin the ladies?” Hamilton picked up a small silver bell from the table beside his chair and rang it once. The butler who had served their tea appeared from a side door. Sir William spoke to him in Italian, of which the only words Charles caught were “Signora Hamilton.” The butler nodded and departed as silently as he had entered. Sir William pushed himself up from his chair. “This way,” he said.

Charles followed into a spacious drawing room tastefully furnished with chairs, tables, and divans along the walls. An empty gilt picture frame, fully six feet tall, leaned in one corner as if it were a prop. Near the center of the room sat Penny, Molly, and a not quite young but arrestingly attractive woman whom he took to be Lady Hamilton.

She had fine pale skin, rich auburn curls that fell about her shoulders and breasts, a perfectly oval face, and large, round, almost violet eyes. The fact that she wore such a low-cut dress and had such an ample bosom made it hard for him to pull his eyes away. The fact that Penny immediately rose and moved to stand beside him helped.

“This is my husband, Charles Edgemont,” Penny said, introducing him. “And this is Emma Hamilton, who has been so kind as to shelter Molly and me since we arrived.”

“Your servant, ma’am,” Charles said, extending a leg and bowing deeply. “I am in your debt.”

“Captain Edgemont,” Mrs. Hamilton said in a softly modulated voice, “I am so pleased to meet you in person. Your adorable wife has told me much about you. How fortunate she is.”

Charles could just hear the remnants of a rural Cheshire accent in her voice, heavily overlaid with the more genteel tones of London society. If she had been a kept woman, as Penny had implied, she had probably been highly sought after and extremely expensive. That she was married to a man as accomplished and highly placed as Sir William, although he was at least thirty years her senior, spoke of her ambitions and abilities. “You are much too kind, Lady Hamilton,” he answered, conscious that his wife had taken his arm firmly in her own.

Mrs. Hamilton rose from her chair, and Charles noted that she was full-figured. “Voluptuous” was the word he wanted, like a Dutch painting he had once seen. She moved gracefully, with a kind of mesmerizing quality, and he could easily understand how she would turn any man’s head. “I have heard,” she said, her deep eyes focused fully upon him, “that you are the hero of the Battle of St. Vincent, the veritable savior of England. You must tell us about your exploits in arms.”

Charles felt greatly flattered.

“We would be pleased at another time, I am sure,” Penny said hurriedly. “My husband would not be so rude, but I know that he has responsibilities on board his craft that require his urgent attention.”

“What responsibilities?” Charles asked.

Penny rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Surely thou hast not forgotten,” she said, squeezing his arm.

“Oh, yes,” he said. A vivid memory of himself and Penny in his cabin at the moment Attwater had burst in went through his mind. “I do have duties, urgent duties, that absolutely require my personal attention,” he said seriously, almost gravely. “I am afraid that we must return as quickly as possible.”

“I understand,” Lady Hamilton said with a disappointed look. “Perhaps another time, then.”

“Yes,” Penny said. “Another time. I thank thee again for thy hospitality. Thou hast been most generous.”

Sir William provided a carriage and matched grays to carry them to the waterfront. The women’s trunks were secured to the back. Charles, Penny, and Molly Bridges stepped inside and seated themselves. The footman mounted, the driver cracked his whip, and they started off.

“Ain’t I glad to be out of there,” Molly said suddenly as the landau rattled along. It was the first time she had spoken.

“Why is that?” Charles asked.

“Didn’t that old man not half chase me from room to room every chance he got.”

“Really,” he said with a grin. “Did he catch you?”

“No,” Molly said primly. “I ain’t in that line anymore.”

Charles took a moment to appraise the young woman. Molly was barely recognizable as the optimistic and highly imaginative bumboat trollop who had visited
Louisa
with the other “wives and sweethearts” in Portsmouth harbor the year before. She was still the pretty, dark-haired woman with the freckled face and lively eyes that he remembered, but her expression had a serious, determined aspect he hadn’t seen before. For some reason he could not fathom, Penny had taken sympathy on the girl and insisted he give her honest employment on his estate. Bevan, he thought, also held some affection for her, but Charles couldn’t imagine them having a deeper relationship. She sat demurely facing him, dressed conservatively and rather attractively, he thought, in a plain gray dress that covered her from her neck down to her shoes. He wondered for a moment about his wife and the odd things that were important to her. Glancing sideways, he saw Penny sitting comfortably beside him, her arm linked in his, staring straight ahead. “A penny for your thoughts,” he said.

A smile flashed across her face. “A Penny for my thoughts? I’d be paying with myself.” She snuggled closer.

“Still,” Charles persisted.

“I was thinking about Molly,” she said, looking across at her companion, “and how far we’ve both come.”

“Penny—Missus Edgemont,” Molly said, “has been teaching me my sums.” There was a touch of pride in her voice. “She helps with my letters also.”

“She’s teaching you to read?” Charles said.

“Well, yes. That, too, but she helps me with my letters to Daniel.”

“Oh,” Charles said. He’d had no inkling that Molly and Bevan were communicating.

The carriage halted on the strand where his boat was tied up, its crew lounging nearby. Hamilton’s footman opened the door, and Charles, Penny, and Molly stepped down. The trunks were lashed in the gig’s bow while Charles and his companions crowded the stern.

“Push off,” Williams commanded.

Charles turned his mind to his “urgent duty.” Arranging for it would be complicated.

“Stephen,” he said the moment he gained
Louisa
’s deck, “do you have the watch?”

“Yes.”

“I do not wish to be disturbed for the next hour or so for any but the most pressing of reasons. Can you see to that?”

“Of course.” Winchester grinned, then, as Penny was being hoisted over the rail, he assumed a serious expression and said, “Aye-aye, sir.”