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CHAPTER 8
London - March
1815
Colonel Christopher
Brandon and his companion walked down a London street in early
evening. The men then paused before the door of a gentleman's
club. "Are you sure you cannot join me for a spot of supper,
Denny?" Brandon asked the major. "You are acquainted
with Colonel Fitzwilliam, I believe."
"Thank you,
sir, but I have some friends that are awaiting me at the Crown
& Lion." Which was true enough, yet Denny was thankful
for the excuse. He liked Colonel Brandon well enough, but Denny
was not sure of the reception he would receive from Colonel Fitzwilliam
- Denny being a friend of George Wickham. "I suppose I shall
not see you again until Brussels?"
"That is so.
Farewell, Denny - until then." The officers made their goodbyes
and Brandon entered his club. Seated at a table at the far side
of the room was Richard Fitzwilliam.
"Good evening,
Brandon," greeted Richard.
"I hope you
have not been waiting long, Fitz."
"No, no, think
nothing of it. May I pour you a glass of this excellent Madeira?"
"Thank you,
Fitz. Yes, this is uncommonly fine. What is tonight's fare?"
"I took the
liberty to order a tasty-sounding ragout of mutton. Are you up
for it?"
"I should like
it of all things, though a bit of chicken would be welcome, as
well." Brandon called the waiter over and amended the order.
"Well, Brandon,
'tis good to see you again, although I wish the circumstances
were different. Have you received orders?"
"Yes,"
Brandon replied. "I am to join Wellington's staff in Brussels
within a month. And you?"
"Once more
into the breech! The regiment sails in May; we must wait until
the heavies have been delivered." Richard was referring
to the heavy cavalry. "So you do not join the Life Guards?"
"No. Wellington
asked for me particularly. I met an acquaintance of yours - a
Major Denny. New ADC to Wellington." ADC meant aide-de-camp.
Richard frowned.
"If he is the same Lt. Denny that used to be in the ____shire
Militia - yes, I know him."
"You have objections
against the man? I wish I had known; I invited him to supper."
"Nothing against
him - just his choice of friends. But you, Brandon - will you
have time to return to Delaford?"
"Yes; I will
have ample opportunity to make my farewells. You?"
"I leave for
Matlock in two days," said Richard. And Rosings after
that. "Have they called up the Life Guards?"
"Yes,"
answered Brandon. "The Scots Greys and Inniskillings, as
well." Brandon was referring to three regiments of heavy
cavalry.
"Brandon, they
have no experience. At least the Light Dragoons saw action in
the Peninsula."
"They'll get
experience the same way we did, Fitz." Richard was getting
ready to respond to that in his usual caustic manner when Brandon
exclaimed, "Wentworth, as I live and breathe! Wentworth!
Over here, man! You must meet this fellow, Fitz!"
Richard was surprised
at Brandon's outburst and was interested as to the cause. He
observed a tall captain of the Royal Navy strolling over, his
face open and smiling. "Richard, allow me to introduce to
you Captain Frederick Wentworth of the Royal Navy. This is the
gentleman who pulled my bacon out of the fire in the Year __!
Wentworth, this is Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam."
"Pleased to
meet you, Colonel," said Wentworth as they shook hands.
"But I already
know of you, sir. Are you not of the Laconia?" Frederick
Wentworth was not as famous a frigate captain as Thomas Cochrane,
Horatio Hornblower or Jack Aubrey, but few did not know of the
feats of HMS Laconia.
"Guilty, sir."
"Wentworth,
can you not join us for supper?" asked Brandon.
"I am afraid
not, Brandon. I have an engagement already. But I shall join
you for a glass or two before he shows."
"Capital! Allow
me," Brandon poured a glass of wine. "Perhaps your
friend may join us?"
"Uh…no,
old man…navy business, you see..." Wentworth was uncomfortable.
"Do not be
troubled, Captain," urged Richard. "Besides, I believe
I should wish you joy. My cousin's sister is acquainted with
Mrs. Wentworth."
"Yes, yes…of
course! You finally married, you old sea dog!" cried Brandon.
"But it was very recent, was it not?"
"A little over
a fortnight, yes. Who is your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam?"
"Mrs. Bingley.
She knew Anne Elliot from school."
Brandon started.
"Anne Elliot - the daughter of Sir Walter Elliot of Kellynch
Hall?" At Wentworth's nod Brandon laughed. "After all
these years - why, you are more dedicated to matters of the heart
than I!" His face then fell. "But I am sorry we could
not join you. If we had but known…"
"No chance
of that, Brandon. We were in a bit of rush. The Laconia
sails in a week."
"So soon -
why, you are still on your honeymoon!"
"'Tis neither
here nor there - we are to the North America Station in Bermuda
and Mrs. Wentworth sails with us."
Brandon laughed
again. "Do I hear right? The famous Captain Wentworth sails
with a woman on board? The Laconia becomes a 'hen frigate?'
Ha, ha! Miss Elliot that was must be an extraordinary lady!"
Wentworth broke
into a wide grin. "That she is, Brandon."
Richard lifted his
glass. "To all our extraordinary ladies!"
Brandon raised his
glass. "Yes - to Marianne."
Wentworth: "To
Anne."
Richard, to himself,
Yes, to Anne. "And mine - Lady Matlock. A boy must
be good to his mother. Drink!" The three drained their glasses.
"Brandon,"
said Wentworth, "I hardly recognized you in uniform. Are
you to the Continent?"
"Yes, as is
Colonel Fitzwilliam."
"Then I have
a toast." They refilled their glasses. "To the British
Army - thank God I'm not in it!"
"We wouldn't
want a lanky fellow like you, Wentworth!" cried Brandon.
They drank to their continued laughter.
The three spent
the next few minutes in pleasurable recollections. Brandon told
at length the story of how Wentworth, leading a cutting-out expedition
against the French, had also freed some British prisoners, their
number including Brandon, that were being held awaiting transport.
The feat had helped Commander Wentworth rise to post-captain
rank and gained him a life-long friend in Christopher Brandon.
No wonder Brandon is so animated, thought Richard.
Wentworth spied
his party. "Forgive me, gentlemen, there is my appointment.
Brandon, Colonel Fitzwilliam, good luck and good hunting on the
Continent, and the devil to Bonaparte! Farewell!" The captain
took leave of his companions and went to greet an elderly gentleman
across the room. They shook hands cordially and retired into
a back room.
Richard turned to
Brandon. "I say, isn't that Sir Joseph Blaine? Isn't he
in the Admiralty?"
Brandon nodded silently
and Richard began to look for the supper. He hardly remarked
how quiet Brandon had suddenly become. It was nothing unusual
- Brandon always was a moody sort.
Brandon appreciated
the peace; his thoughts were in a whirl. He thought he knew Wentworth
well. He now had his doubts. He could think of no reason for
Captain Wentworth to be meeting privately with Sir Joseph Blaine,
naturalist, obscure member of the Admiralty and supposed head
of British Intelligence.
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