Lady Vixen (38 page)

Belatedly
it occurred to Christopher that this entire episode had been a test—Jason
testing him to see if he could negotiate the freedom of Stout's ill-fated force
and again testing his loyalty. Almost absently he said, "It could all have
been a sham, you know."

At
Jason's sharp glance, Christopher added dryly, "Jean and I could have
connived together. He could have released the men to me merely for the look of
it, by all appearances assisting me deeper into your confidence."

Bleakly,
Jason stared at him. "Do you think I haven't thought of that? I'll confess
I can't quite make up my mind about you. I'll sleep easier once you're on your
way to England, for I don't quite trust you, friend Saxon, where Lafitte is
concerned."

Levelly,
Christopher said, "I'm surprised you trust me to go to England. Do you
want to change our plans?"

"Don't
be ridiculous! Naturally not! It is only with regard to your connection with
Lafitte that I have any doubts," Jason exclaimed exasperatedly. Then, a
most charming smile lighting his harsh features, he offered another drink,
saying, "Enough of our differences. Let us talk of your mission to
England!"

Christopher
agreed readily enough, accepting the second glass of liquor, although he
wondered cynically how the strong brew was going to sit on his empty stomach.
"You mentioned that the sailing date has been moved up?"

"Yes.
As I said, day after tomorrow. I meant to tell you at our last meeting, but got
sidetracked, that Monroe has accepted England's minister of war, Castlereagh's
proposal for direct negotiations."

"Mmm.
My only comment is that Monroe should have done that some time ago. Now the
British will try all the harder to grasp all they can before the peace is
declared."

"I
suspect so. Certainly it becomes even more important to have someone in England
that is attuned to our side."

"Have
we no official representative?" Christopher asked. "Only a gentleman
by the name of Reuben Beasley. He is our agent for our prisoners of war. I
believe Monroe has included a letter of introduction to him for you. And there
is also a young secretary of Albert Gallatin's staying now in London. I believe
he is there merely to observe and let Gallatin know the temper of London. Like
you, he is there unofficially—more so than yourself —and he has no letters of
introduction from the secretary of state."

"Do
I see him?"

"No.
I do not feel he would be of any use to us. But I will give you what
information I have on him tomorrow."

Another
round of whiskey was poured, and swallowing it slowly, almost enjoying its
stinging bite, Christopher decided that he was going to be drunk as a
wheelbarrow if he stayed much longer. But Jason appeared to be in no hurry to
end the conversation and said with amusement, "I must congratulate you on
your ward."

Almost
with misgiving and definitely suspicion Christopher repeated,
"Congratulate?"

"Yes.
You said she wouldn't shame me and she didn't —she did beat me at cards,
though, she
is
very good at them! And it's fortunate that you are
sailing on Thursday, for the suitors will be clamoring outside your house. Her
manners are delightful. We dined at the governor's mansion on Saturday and
Claiborne himself was very attracted, but only in an abstract way, you
understand, as he is unusually devoted to his wife. And Sunday we took her to
the opera. The opera itself was not a great success, but Nicole certainly was!
I vow I thought I would have to fight our way clear."

A
glitter gleamed in Christopher's eyes that couldn't be defined by Jason, but
there was no mistaking the deadly smoothness of his voice as he asked,
"And did Nicole find anyone who took her fancy?"

"That,
I couldn't tell you. But I'm certain you will discover it for yourself—she is,
after all, your ward."

"Perhaps."
And abruptly Christopher changed the subject. "If Monroe has accepted
Castlereagh's offer, has a place for the actual negotiations been settled
upon?"

"No.
Remember that Monroe wrote his reply barely a month ago—it hasn't even reached
England yet. There has been a new commission appointed for us also—John Adams
will be the leader and the others are a Federalist by the name of James Bayard,
our speaker of the house, Henry Clay, Jonathan Russell, and Albert Gallatin.
Madison finally appointed Campbell to Gallatin's post as secretary of the
treasury. It is an imposing group."

"But
can they accomplish anything?" Christopher asked sarcastically.

Jason
shrugged. "Well, Gallatin and Bayard are at the czar's court in Russia at
this very moment supposedly negotiating for peace with England. Who knows what
they will accomplish? You, I hope, will certainly have more success than they
have had so far."

They
stayed talking quietly for several more minutes and decided on two final and
vitally important items. The first, and by far the easiest, was a simple code
to be used for what news Jason could send to Christopher. Knowing the various
improbabilities of the mail during the war, they had acknowledged that the
letters might never reach England. But Jason had agreed that he would try to
keep Christopher abreast with events in New Orleans.

The
second item was more difficult. Leaving England in this time of war with the
United States was something they discussed at length. Obviously no British
ships were sailing to American ports. If Christopher were successful in
obtaining any documents of value, speed would be of utmost importance, and
there would be no time in which to take a more circuitous route—to go from one
port to another before heading to the United States.

After
much thought and argument it was agreed they would make use of several
privateers known by Jason to be plying the waters off the coast of England.
Christopher jibed Jason about it, finding it vastly amusing that he would make
use of them in view of his feelings about Lafitte. But Jason snapped,
"These, my young friend, are honest privateers!" Christopher wisely
held his tongue.

The
most difficult obstacle was the timing. Neither had any idea how long
Christopher would be in England. They dared not set just one date for a
rendezvous. There would have to be several different times that Christopher
could meet with an American ship. Finally it was decided each month, starting
April 25, a privateer would be tarrying off the coast of Sussex, near the tiny
village of Rottingdean. The ship would remain for several hours of darkness and
sail with the midnight tide if Christopher's signal did not appear. The date
would change each month, the next month's date being a day later than the
previous month's. The captain would know nothing except that he was to pick up
one or two passengers and then immediately set sail for New Orleans. A simple
lantern signal would be used.

It
was perhaps not the best arrangement—it was risky and left much to chance—but
it was the best they could do.

The
problems solved to their satisfaction, they had another glass of the rotgut
whiskey, and it was only when the bottle was finished and they were both as
drunk as lords that Christopher and Jason began to stroll in the direction of
their respective homes. It had started to rain, and swearing with discomfort,
Christopher pulled his thin jacket closer to him. Seeing his actions, Jason
laughed, "Wait until England, my friend. Wait until it rains in
England."

"I hate and
I love. Why I do so, perhaps you ask. I do not know, but I feel it and I am in
torment."

—Catullus

In
February, while Christopher and Mrs. Eggleston had been drilling Nicole in
deportment, London had been gripped by the longest and hardest frost in
centuries. The Thames River between London Bridge and Blackfriars became a road
of solid ice, and the populace traveled across its frozen expanse by way of
"Freezland Street."

At
the ends of local streets signs were mounted announcing that it was safe to
cross, and before too long there sprang up a "Frost Fair." It was a
marvelous affair to see; crowded side by side were booths for bakers, butchers,
barbers, and cooks. There were swings, bookstalls, skittle alleys, toy
shops—exactly like a regular fair. But the "Great Frost" ended, only
to be followed by a tremendous fall of snow that continued without intermission
for six weeks.

The
weather was still beastly on one of the last days of March when Christopher and
his party disembarked. Cursing the wind and rain, Christopher had promptly and
efficiently removed them to Grillions Hotel, a fashionable hotel on Albemarle
Street.

All
in all the first three months of 1814 had been bitter and icy in England, but
beyond that swirling curtain of snow and ice, across the Channel, Napoleon's
empire was in ruins. Schwarzenburg led his Austrians, and von Blücher his
Prussians, into Paris. Wellington defeated Soult at Toulouse, and on April 6,
1814 Napoleon finally conceded defeat and abdicated. He left Paris at midnight
on the following day on his way to exile on the island of Elba, and Louis, the
Bourbon, who had become old and fat in exile, was now King of France, Louis
XVIII.

By
April the cruel winter was over, the long war with Napoleon was over, and in
England there was exuberant rejoicing with the white cockades and the flags of
the Bourbons everywhere. Despite the festive atmosphere, neither Nicole nor
Christopher felt any sense of homecoming. For Christopher it was
understandable—he had left unwillingly, under painful and brutal circumstances.
England was simply a foreign country to him, one that was at war with his own
adopted country. Nicole had no strong feelings for England, having left it so
many years before. But she was glad to leave the ship's confinement, for she
had been tortured by Christopher's nearness during the long voyage.

Of
the three of them only Mrs. Eggleston was truly happy at the return to England.
She was home again— and she had Christopher and Nicole with her! During the
week following their arrival they had absorbed all the latest news and gossip
circulating about the city. With something like dismay Christopher had heard
the news of Napoleon's abdication. The end of the war with the French Empire
freed British troops for service in America, and bitterly he cursed the
necessity to act cautiously. For the moment there was little he could do but
smile and act the part of the returned native son.

The
first week of April passed swiftly. Christopher was taken up with a variety of
mundane but time-consuming affairs—seeing a banker in the city, establishing
his credit, the hiring of horses and carriage, the selection of an agent for
whatever business he might have, and finding his feet in a strange city.

The
ladies had promptly discovered the delights to be found in the shops on Bond
Street and proceeded, after a certain amount of reluctance on Mrs. Eggleston's
part, to add a number of elegant trifles to their wardrobes. Christopher took
out a subscription from Colburn's Lending Library for their amusement and even
managed to escort them on a few sightseeing tours: the National Gallery, the
London Museum, and the wild beasts at Exeter to name a few.

There
were two notable and curious omissions in all Christopher's activities; namely,
he did not present any of his letters of introduction nor did he seek out
Nicole's guardians. He undertook one personal task his second day in London,
paying a quiet visit to Somerset House, that monumental institution where the
records of all births, marriages, and deaths were kept and discovered to his
relief and satisfaction that Simon Saxon was still the sixth Baron of Saxony.
His grandfather lived, and not for the first time, Christopher wondered how the
irascible old gentleman was going to take his return.

Yet
knowing his grandfather was alive, he kept the knowledge to himself, and beyond
discovering that Simon Saxon was presently staying in his London residence, he
did nothing to bring about a meeting between them. He was busy adapting to
London, discovering the temper of the populace, familiarizing himself with the
city itself, and absorbing the currents, rumors, and news that flew like
wildfire. After about ten days he knew he could no longer remain in the
shadows.

His
first official call was to Alexander Baring, head of the great banking firm of
Hope and Baring, which served American interests in Europe. Baring was also a
member of Parliament and had campaigned vigorously against the war with the
United States and for the repeal of those damaging Orders of Council that gave
Britain the right to stop American ships and remove at will whomever they
desired. He greeted Christopher cordially, and after producing a chair, cigars,
and some refreshments, he proceeded to read Monroe's letter of introduction.
Glancing up from the letter he remarked, "I do not mean to be
discouraging, but there is little I can do for you at present. You are here
unofficially and we are still at war with one another. I can introduce you
socially, but I'm afraid that will be the extent of my patronage."

Christopher
nodded. "Of course. It is no more than I expected and I appreciate your
difficulties." He smiled, the gold eyes very bright. "I can only hope
you will continue your efforts on our behalf in Parliament."