‘Poor fools like me,’ Thornbury said wryly. ‘Do you not think it a strange state of affairs when D’Antraigues got more time with our foreign ministers than some of their wives did? He fairly haunted the place. Mr Canning wanted to be shot of himwhen he was foreign minister, but even he couldn’t get rid of the man as thecomteproved too useful.’
‘Doing what, for heaven’s sake?’
‘Reporting, analysing, writing critical articles about Napoleon in French for dissemination– whatever was asked of him, he did.’
‘And yet his sources were suspect?’
Thornbury tapped his fingers on his mug thoughtfully. ‘Are you wondering if they were fairytales spun out of moonshine and cobwebs? Not always. D’Antraigues was astute enough to read international politics expertly, keeping abreast of the whole European picture, not just fragments. That made his analysis worth reading. His predictions were spot on.’
That was very interesting. D’Antraigues wasn’t a charlatan then, but someone who was worth listening to, because what everyone in charge of the conduct of the war wanted to know most of all was what was going to happen next. ‘What did he predict for the war this year, Napoleon’s push east and Wellington’s campaign in the Peninsula?’
‘Ah, now that’s an interesting question. We were waiting with bated breath to see what he would say. In the file it said that we were expecting a report from him the very day he died, but it never arrived. What arrived was news of his murder.’
‘And the report?’
‘Not a trace.’ Thornbury stood up to go, the waiter back to clear their plates even before they got out from behind the table. ‘Funny that, wouldn’t you say?’
As they left the inn, they passed an acquaintance of Thornbury who was just entering.
‘Vorontsov! How are you settling in?’ asked Thornbury, shaking hands. He turned to Jacob. ‘Dr Sandys, this is Count Ivan Vorontsov, aide to His Excellency, Pavel Sukhtelen, the special envoy from the Tsar. I’m happy to report that they have been charged with opening the embassy again.’
Jacob bowed. ‘An honour, sir.’
A striking-looking gentleman in a navy uniform and epaulets, curling black hair and muttonchop whiskers, Vorontsov returned the greeting with a smart click of his heels and head bob. ‘Your friend said this place serves the best lamb cutlets in London. Is he correct?’ He graced Thornbury with a wry smile.
‘Yes,’ said Jacob, ‘if you can forgive the lamentable service.’
With a couple of further pleasantries, the Russian proceeded into the inn. The meeting put Thornbury in high spirits.
‘I’m so glad the Russians are finally listening to us, even if it is only about where to dine. You heard of the Treaty of Örebro, I’m sure?’
Jacob had been busy on other cases but had followed the newspapers. ‘That’s in Sweden is it not?’
‘Exactly. Both the Swedes and the Russians have fallen out with Napoleon and are coming over to our side. We in the Foreign Office have great hopes– great hopes!’
It would take more than cracks in the old alliances Napoleon had cobbled together to defeat the emperor. ‘We’ve been jilted once by them already in this war and ended up fighting both Russia and Sweden. Do we trust their change of heart? Isn’t the de facto king of Sweden, Marshall Bernadotte, Napoleon’s old favourite?’
Thornbury grinned and rubbed his hands. ‘That is where old Boney made a serious mistake. You can’t give your top general independent power then expect him to let you walk all over him. The fool of an emperor occupied Sweden’s island of Rügen andPomerania– naturally, Bernadotte would seek peace with us, the great naval power in the world, to get them back.’
It sounded too close to a tactical game of chess for Jacob’s liking, especially when he’d seen the lives lost in the process. ‘How can you stand all this tangle of alliances and counter-alliances, Thornbury?’
‘Stand it? My dear Sandys, it is why I’m in the service. I find it fascinating.’
They parted on Whitehall. Jacob decided to vary his route home and walk along Pall Mall. Carlton House, beloved London residence of the Prince Regent with its white pillars and porticos, dominated the street. This newly built area was an elegant part of the capital, unlike the higgledy-piggledy slums not that far away in St Giles, which reeked of human misery. Barouches and phaetons rattled past and gentlemen exchanged nods as they hurried to their clubs. This part of town gave the illusion that things were under control, Britain heading in the right direction with its spreading empire and naval dominance, all ugliness and poverty hidden.
Jacob didn’t share that confidence. Too many people were being left behind.
A carriage with the royal coat of arms went by, possibly holding the prince, or perhaps his daughter, Princess Charlotte. With George separated from his wife and no more royal babies, it looked like Britain was going to get a queen after George died. Jacob joined the other pedestrians removing their hat as a sign of respect. The country would have to survive the regency first.
Personally, Jacob thought the Prince Regent a disaster. In theory, George no longer had time for the indulgent life of parties and pleasures that he had conducted for the past few decades as the Prince of Wales, not now he was Head of State. He was nominally in charge, though more as a figurehead; his prime minister, Lord Liverpool, did the day-to-day runningof the war and made the decisions. Jacob suspected that the regent wasn’t that much changed and gave no sign he had risen to the new responsibilities. George also hadn’t stuck to the few reforming principles he had professed to support when it hadn’t cost him anything. His accession had been a grave disappointment to people like Jacob who wanted to see change.
Musing on the state of the nation as he was, Jacob didn’t see the attack coming at him from behind. He did, however, feel the shove between the shoulder blades that sent him tumbling onto the road in front of a coach and four.
Chapter Twelve
Carlton House
Dora rushed up the portico stairs, past the Greek statues in their niches, and into the palatial hall of Carlton House. She shouldered her way through the gaggle of men who had gathered, all discussing the accident that had just been cleared up by the grooms from the Prince Regent’s stables. She grabbed the elbow of the nearest footman.
