Tested by Fate (15 page)

“A great coup, Captain,” Sir William cried, just before he
introduced
the Duke of Amalfi.

“A great burden, sir,” Nelson said, acknowledging the greeting of some count whose name he missed. “The Admiral lacks the means to hold Toulon. The Revolution was already on the march to retake the town when I left. We had soldiers aboard in lieu of marines, but no more than two thousand in all. Even with the loyal French and half the sailors from the fleet we cannot hold out against a
determined
enemy. We must have more men, and Lord Hood has sent me here to request that the Two Sicilies provide them. What prospect have I of an immediate audience with the King?”

“Every likelihood, Captain Nelson. I sent my wife to see the Queen with that request in mind. Since Her Majesty holds her in the highest esteem, I’ll take the liberty of assuming acceptance and coach you directly to the palace.”

Nelson was surprised, but also pleased. He had little knowledge of British plenipotentiaries abroad, but he had them tagged as a slothful crew. Sir William Hamilton was clearly cut from a different batch of cloth, able to act with despatch even before he was asked, to the point of dragging him away from a crowd eager to press his hand. He got Nelson into his carriage, at the same time issuing instructions that would see the Captain’s stepson and the crew of the launch catered for in the article of food and shelter.

“I have sick men aboard, Sir William, who would benefit from being ashore. I require fresh victuals, greens, beef, and citrus fruits. My water is so brackish as to be undrinkable and I have little time for delay.”

“Use the credit of my office, sir, to purchase anything you need.”

“The expense will be great.”

“My credit hereabouts is greater, Captain,” said Sir William, without pomposity. “Longevity and a consistency of policy have seen to that.”

“I thank you, sir.”

“It is I who must thank you and Admiral Hood. My task in Naples is never easy, but these last months since the outbreak of war
have been strewn with difficulty. I must confess that, at times, my own conviction that we would see something of a British fleet in these waters has been sorely tried.”

They had to talk over the noise of cheering and the endless stream of flowers flung at them by an emotional Neapolitan mob, each man sizing up the other as an aid to those first impressions. Sir William, urbane and dignified, was struck by the seeming youth of this fellow, obviously a senior captain, as well as his application. He was in control of both his subject and his mission. While careful to be polite, Nelson nevertheless had a grasp of what he needed and how he intended to go about getting it. He spoke quickly and
succinctly
, describing the situation of Hood and his fleet clearly and graphically, explaining the terrain at Toulon and how he, if he were in command, would go about securing it.

“I fear you’re wasted at sea, sir, given your grasp of the finer points of land warfare. For my sins I am an old soldier, so I know of what I speak.”

“Never fear, Sir William, I have chosen my career well. My name was unknown to you not half an hour ago. That will not long remain the case for our fellow countrymen. Soon they all will know the name of Nelson!”

Such self-assurance would normally have made Sir William uncomfortable, but somehow the way Nelson said it, the lack of artifice and the look of conviction on his face when he did so,
rendered
it truthful rather than conceited. Then Nelson demonstrated that he also had good sense, in the way he listened intently to his host as Sir William gave him a brief account of Naples, its court, its politics, and the personalities who mattered.

“The Marquis de Gallo, who heads the government, is a man who feels his country is best served by doing nothing. He is the type who would neither support a friend nor oppose an enemy. He has one abiding wish, and that is to stay in his post and increase his already considerable fortune.”

“Does the King trust him?”

“It matters not one jot if he does. Flatter the King but place no
store by his promises. The Queen matters most but avoid any attempt at flattery with her. She responds to clear ideas simply expressed, and whatever she decides will be in consultation with her favourite minister, General Acton.”

“Is he party to our cause?”

“He is an Englishman, Captain Nelson. He cannot help but be so. And it stands you in good stead that he is also an ex-naval
officer
. The ‘general’ is an honorific from Ferdinand. Acton knows that he who controls the Straits of Messina controls the fate of the
Kingdom
of Naples.”

Hamilton, too, was under scrutiny, and Nelson liked what he saw. His manner was open and friendly, and he had about him an air of sound common sense. Accustomed still to the social mores of home, he was taken by Hamilton’s total lack of condescension, his readiness to treat him as an equal and to defer to him in any area of his own expertise. At the same time he had a certain steadiness about him, and gave the impression that ample time was available even if there was, in truth, precious little. Nelson judged that if he had still been a soldier, Hamilton would be a cool fellow in battle, which was the highest praise he could bestow.

The crowds thickened as the carriage approached the gates to the Palazzo Reale. People were there, Hamilton explained, because they were unsure of what was taking place. “They sway greatly, Nelson, from bellicosity to abject fear in seconds.” He indicated the floor of the carriage. “Do not be fooled by these flowers. They’re as fickle as they are emotional. Ferdinand fears his own people as much as he fears the arrival of the French—with good cause.”

“Then he must be eager for a military victory.”

“I daresay, such are his dreams, that he wins one every time he sleeps.”

Ferdinand, dressed in black and grubby in appearance, towered over his visitor. He greeted Nelson fulsomely, naming him as the saviour of his nation, and enveloping him in an embrace both
crushing
and malodorous. That remark raised a round of applause from
the assembled courtiers to which King Ferdinand responded with a joyous shout. Then he introduced his chief minister, the Marquis de Gallo.

He looked as slippery as Hamilton had described: bland of
feature
, with blank black eyes and dry skin, vain in the way he spoke and moved, as if Nelson’s presence had interrupted far more
important
business. It was the royal consort who cut across him. The Queen had a presence her husband lacked, and the wit to discuss with her Minister of Marine and the Army what response Naples should make to the request, which had been communicated to her a mere ten minutes before the audience had been granted. It was Acton who spoke: short, deeply tanned, with sharp bird-like features and a look in the eye that denoted deep intelligence.

“Their Sicilian Majesties are cognisant of the joint
responsibility
of both their nation and yours, Captain. The plague from France must be halted and thrown back into the gutters of Paris from where it emanated. Both my sovereign lord and his queen have had to bear the tragedy of personal loss as well as witness the turmoil released on Europe by these demons. But they are also responsible to the nation God has given them the power to rule.”

“That nation is safe,” Nelson replied, speaking somewhat before he should. “The French have no fleet and what few capital ships they have at sea are poorly manned, ill prepared, and blockaded in Hyerés Bay.”

“We have a land border as well, Captain.”

“You have even less to fear from that source, Sir John. There is no army closer than Toulon to threaten you.”

“It could be said, Your Majesty,” interposed Sir William,
addressing
the vacant-looking King, “that the Neapolitan border stands at that very spot. Hold Toulon and France can never menace Naples.”

Sir William had warned Nelson not to expect any decisions,
cautioned
him that the court of the Two Sicilies moved at a snail’s pace when it moved at all. Acton replied on the King’s behalf. “His Majesty King Ferdinand has already arrived at that very conclusion,
and is prepared to put at the immediate disposal of Lord Hood a force of six thousand men, plus the vessels to carry them, which are at this very moment being made ready to sail.”

The slight nod between Acton and the Queen, allied to the
faraway
look in the eyes of King Ferdinand, was enough to tell all present who had really made that decision. The frown on the face of the Marquis de Gallo showed that not everyone agreed.

“I’ve never known the like, Nelson,” exclaimed Sir William, “in thirty years of being here. Somnolence, not zeal, is the common currency around these parts, hunting and whoring excluded, of course.”

“I would have wished to decline this feast tonight. Apart from being knocked up from months at sea there are matters aboard my ship to see to.”

“It is one of the burdens of my office, Captain Nelson. A royal wish is not that at all. It is a command. And I fear that this means your ship will have to wait. Besides, I would be most upset if you declined to be my guest.”

“Perhaps for tonight. But I must get back aboard tomorrow.”

“Possibly,” replied Sir William, with an enigmatic smile.

Their progress to the Palazzo Sessa was just as noisy and
flower-bedecked
as their previous journey, it seemed, with every citizen of Naples eager to show their relief at Nelson’s appearance. The noise died as the gates shut behind them, and Nelson picked blooms out of the brim of his hat. The cool of the entrance hall was pleasant after the heat of the open carriage, and Sir William was flattered by the attention of his visitor to the classical statuary that decorated the vestibule.

The rest of the palazzo was like that, an Aladdin’s cave that he was encouraged to wander, cooling drink in hand, while Sir William went to find his wife, to tell her of their guest, and to forewarn her of the ball at the Palazzo Reale that night. Emma was in her music room, playing an early harpsichord piece by the recently deceased Mozart, from which she broke off as soon as he entered. She stood
up, the loose gown dropping to cling to her figure, in a way that still took away her husband’s breath.

“How fared our naval officer?”

“Captain Nelson fared amazingly, Emma. He has quite enchanted the King, and Acton has pre-empted the request he was about to make for military help. Six thousand troops promised in the blink of an eye!”

“He must be a magician. I was with the Queen when you came ashore. I’m not sure she had quite recovered from her fear that his ship was French.”

“He’s a remarkable fellow, my dear, quite remarkable.”

That gained him raised eyebrows, for Emma knew her husband to be the least impressionable of men. New acquaintances, if they rated a mention at all from Sir William, rarely benefited from a favourable one.

“You will see in him what I did, I am sure.”

“Which is?”

“You know how rare it is, my dear, to meet someone to whom you take an instant liking.”

“I have no experience of you ever succumbing to that.”

Sir William smiled. “I did with you.”

Emma brushed a hand across his cheek, her voice soft and ironic. “It was your breeches, not your heart, that was smitten.”

“I protest,” he responded, without rancour, his hand reaching out to grab her.

Emma slipped into the seat at the harpsichord again and pressed a sharp key. “So, tell me about your naval officer, and why you’re so taken with him.”

“It’s the oddest feeling. I have not, as you know, been a soldier for many a long year.”

“With not a good word to say of the breed in the meantime. Nor do I recall much praise of sailors. I’ve heard you trounce them as an uncouth menace.”

“This fellow is different. He has little height but a
commanding
presence.” Sir William stood with his head bowed in deep
thought. “Is it that he looks you in the eye? That there’s no feeling of any thoughts harboured other than the ones of which he is
speaking
?” He looked up again. “I don’t know. But I would hazard that he will go far in the service. He certainly thinks so.”

Emma pursed her lips, looking doubtful. “How do you know that?”

“He told me.”

“What?” she cried, hitting another sharp key. “How vain!”

Sir William smiled, but there was still a look of wonder in his eyes. “Perhaps you’ll see what I see, perhaps not. He is to be our house guest. The King is throwing a feast in his honour at the Palazzo Reale tonight.”

She stood up. “Then I must shift since I shall require the
dressmaker
. Shall I ask my mother to have a room prepared?”

“The apartments we had decorated for the Prince will serve splendidly.”

Emma could not hide her surprise. Sir William had lavished much money and time on decorating special rooms to
accommodate
the Queen’s sixth son, who even at the tender age of seven was much attached to Emma.

“For a mere naval officer?”

“No, Emma,” Sir William replied. “More than that. I think they are fitting for a man who one day may be vastly more important to both us and our mission here than Frederick Augustus, even if he is a prince.”

Passing, Emma pecked his cheek. “I fear, husband, that you have been too much in the sun without a hat.”

I
NSTANT ATTRACTION
is such a rare thing that those exposed to it must distrust the immediate onset of the feeling. In seeing Horatio Nelson Emma felt as if some chord had been struck in her breast. He wore the blue naval coat and white waistcoat and breeches that had always given her cause to recall her first, heartbreaking, romantic attachment, when she had been no more than a
housemaid
, to sixteen-year-old Samuel Linley. Emma had never been able to see a sailor in uniform without being reminded of the Linley House: of Samuel’s life, their stolen moments, but most of all of his lingering and tragic death.

But it was not just this visitor’s attire and a tweaked memory that engaged her. The near-white hair might be less glossy but it was there in all its abundance. The skin was as clear as alabaster, the odd slight scar an enhancement not a blemish. But it was the eyes that struck her: light, blue, and direct in the way they looked at her.

Nelson saw a woman of great beauty, flowing auburn tresses, startlingly green eyes, allied to a vague notion of recognition. The smile she gave him was all-enveloping, her hand held out to kiss far enough away to demand that he move forward to take it. As he bent over he could barely hear Sir William’s introduction.

“My dear Emma, Captain Horatio Nelson of His Britannic Majesty’s ship
Agamemnon.
Captain Nelson, my wife, Lady Hamilton.”

His fingers were under hers, lifting her hand to his lips, Nelson aware that each tip seemed filled with a tingling sensation. Emma was suffused with a rush of memory—youth, purity, and breathless stolen moments in a corridor. There was a slight constriction in her chest, and her heart missed a beat as Captain Nelson’s lips pressed themselves to her flesh with more pressure, and for a longer time than was either polite or necessary.

Nelson kept hold of her hand as he straightened up, looking at her unblinkingly, a stare returned in full measure. “Lady Hamilton, it is a great pleasure to meet you.”

“And you, sir,” Emma replied, aware that her voice held a trace of huskiness. “I cannot say how relieved my husband and I were to see your sails on the horizon.”

He let go of her hand at the mention of the word “husband,” turning in some embarrassment to look at Sir William, who had an odd smile on his face, knowing and amused, which led Nelson to suspect that his wife had the same impact on everyone she met. Then Sir William’s eyes flicked slightly to his left, which reminded Nelson that he had another duty to perform.

“Lady Hamilton, allow me to name my stepson, Midshipman Josiah Nisbet. Josiah, Lady Hamilton.”

Josiah, brushed and powdered for the royal feast, stepped
forward
smartly, hat under his arm, his heels tapping on the parquet floor. He stopped and bent forward as if someone had slapped him on the back of the head, and missed with his lips Lady Hamilton’s hand by the merest fraction.

“Milady.”

“Why Mr Nisbet,” she responded, gaily, “what a smart fellow you are, a credit to your stepfather and your ship.” Accustomed to abuse rather than flattery, the youngster blushed to the roots of his hair as Emma took his arm and headed for the open double doors. “And handsome to boot, in your naval blues. I shall have to guard you well, young sir, for I tell you no secret when I say that the Neapolitan ladies are all rapacity when it comes to fresh game.”

William Hamilton laughed, indicating that he and Nelson should follow, his voice near a whisper as he confided, “Damn me, Nelson, she can spot shyness at a mile off. She has every young man in Naples, including the King’s own son, in thrall to her.”

“Given her beauty, sir, I would hazard it’s not only the young men. Your wife could rejuvenate the ancient statuary.” Nelson, who knew himself to be the least accomplished of men when it came to
repartee, was quite astounded at his own ability to get that sentence out without a stammer.

“Handsomely said, sir,” Sir William responded, “and very true. Emma does attract the eye. I allow my wife the degree of liberty her station commands, yet she has never once given me cause for
misgivings
.”

Nelson could not be sure that the older man told the entire truth, given the attention to which his wife was exposed both before they took their places and afterwards. His eye was drawn to Lady Hamilton in a way that he felt sure must be noticed, given that he had been allotted the place of honour at the King’s right hand, an exposed position even in such a huge gathering. Ferdinand helped him, not being the type to engage in quiet conversation with a neighbour, more inclined to shout to someone a dozen places
distant
, with all his courtiers and their ladies hanging on to his every blaring word. He spoke in Italian, which Nelson couldn’t
understand
, and the rare asides Ferdinand made to his premier guest had to be translated, which clearly bored the King.

General Acton was close enough to converse with, as was Sir William Hamilton, and much was exchanged about the need for Great Britain to protect such a stalwart ally as the Two Sicilies. Nelson agreed, with genuine feeling, being of the opinion that
holding
the Mediterranean without good bases was militarily impossible. He was less sanguine about a quick peace, convinced that, without a major rising of monarchical forces all over France, such a hope was wishful thinking.

“Even if Provence rises in its entirety, General Acton, it will not answer. It is an under-populated part of the French nation, and far from the seat of real power. Lyon, I am told, has suffered the same butchery as Marseilles. A coup in Paris might give grounds for hope.”

“I wouldn’t hold out for that, Captain Nelson,” said Sir William. “My wife and I came through the city on the way back from
London
, in the time of the Convention, before Robespierre and his regicides took over. Nothing depressed us more than the sheer
stupidity
of the mob. Parisians are drunk with power, so drunk that every man must fear even to be their leader.”

He could not avoid looking at her again. The object of his
surreptitious
attention was seated near the Queen, able to engage in pleasant conversation with her and her offspring, which made Nelson jealous. He also observed that Josiah, some distance away with the rest of the
Agamemnon
’s officers and midshipmen, couldn’t take his eyes off her. But that bothered Nelson not one jot: young swains were supposed to be bowled over by such beauty and charm.

“Then we must fear for Italy, gentlemen,” said Acton, dragging his attention back to the conversation. “Lombardy provides a route to Vienna. Let the Revolution defeat Austria, and the wolves will be at our throats next.”

Nelson thought Acton unduly pessimistic, but diplomacy
forbade
him to say so. For an ex-naval officer he showed a scant grasp of reality. France, having murdered its king, was isolated, with even their common ally Spain ranged against them. Their enemies included Austria, Prussia, the Russians, the United Provinces to the north, as well as a substantial number of French émigrés encamped on the Rhine. In turmoil, she could feed neither herself nor her armies. British naval power would choke off a goodly portion of what could be imported, taking ships and cargoes to deny French armies the means to sustain themselves. Defeating France was far from certain, but containing the Revolution within her borders seemed eminently possible.

He stole another glance as he raised his wine glass to propose a toast: “Then let us hope that they murder each other until not a Frenchman is left alive to keep their damned Revolution going.”

He felt a delicious thrill as Lady Hamilton, mistaking the
purpose
of the raised glasses, nodded to accept what she took to be a compliment to her. Rejoining a conversation about fleets, bases, victualling, and the progress of armies seemed to act like a strain on the muscles of his neck.

What Nelson failed to see was that Lady Hamilton was throwing
as many glances in his direction as he was in hers, which was why she had mistaken the toast. Too experienced to suffer turmoil, Emma was drawn none the less towards Captain Nelson, without being sure why. His smile, which looked slightly melancholy as he listened to the King’s translator, entranced her, as did the way he moved his hands as he ate or responded to a question: slowly, as if each
gesture
required deep calculation. The slight air of loss when the King made an obscene gesture to one of his subjects contrasted to the certainty that animated him when he made a point to her husband or Acton.

When not talking, listening, or thinking about Lady Hamilton, Nelson was wondering how this monarch had stayed out of
confinement
. He had heard that Ferdinand was uneducated, his ignorance a source of humour all over Europe. But the King was more than a buffoon, he was deranged, and would most certainly have been removed as the nation’s ruler if he had resided in England, as King George had so nearly been when he had gone temporarily mad.

“He is a child, Captain,” said Sir William, once they were back in the coach. “No more and no less, with a child’s passion for that which pleases him. Hunting and procreation seem to be his abiding traits. The poor Queen is rarely out of the delivery couch, so ardent is he in the bedchamber.”

“She confides in me that conception is as painful a chore as birth,” said Emma.

Sir William responded with a weary air—but he was checking his wife none the less. “I think that is one confidence that Her Majesty would not wish to be disseminated.”

Emma laughed, in a way that showed she was slightly
intoxicated
. “You cannot chide me, sir, for there is no greater gossip in Naples than yourself. Believe me, Captain Nelson, you must beware in my husband’s company for no gaffe will go unrecorded. Few English visitors to Naples leave without adding to his store of
anecdotes
.”

The light of the carriage lamp was just enough to let Nelson see that the rejoinder had been well received. Sir William wore a
self-satisfied
smile.

“I confess that is true. But I also sense Captain Nelson to be an upright man, my dear, so he has nothing to fear.”

“I daresay I shall find out if he has,” said Emma, nudging Josiah, who was sitting beside her. “Young Master Nisbet here will tell me all.”

“You’re in for a dull exchange, milady,” said Nelson, without much thought. “Josiah’s mother and I hold each other in the
highest
regard, is that not so, boy?”

“It is, sir,” Josiah replied, with such conviction that he made his stepfather, who had had time to consider the statement that prompted the response, feel like a scrub.

“They say she was a whore, sir,” Josiah exclaimed, as soon as the servant closed the door to their rooms, “and that she tricked Sir William into matrimony.”

“Enough of this!” Nelson was rarely sharp with any of his
youngsters
and that applied most to Josiah. The evidence of this was plain in the crestfallen expression on the boy’s face. “Is that the first thing you can say of someone who has treated you with kindness? Lady Hamilton is our hostess, so you will oblige me by containing the kind of talk that passes for conversation in the mid’s berth.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Josiah, stiffly.

“I suggest that you retire. We have a busy day tomorrow, that is, unless you’d rather not accompany me.”

Nelson knew that he was being cruel because his stepson was merely repeating things he too had heard, and which he had believed before making Lady Hamilton’s acquaintance. Yet, having met her, how could he give credence to them now? His expectation of some coarse creature had been quite swept away on that first encounter.

The introduction, in her music room, had underlined what Sir William had told him: that she played more than one instrument and sang like an angel. No one had cut her at the Palazzo Reale, quite the reverse: people of both sexes and obvious merit had lined
up to greet her. He had heard her speak French to one of the King’s guests, German to another, and her Italian appeared close to fluent, accomplishments to make the most aristocratic woman proud. In translating the conversation between him and the Queen she had demonstrated the regard in which she was held in that quarter. No London trollop could attain such a position—surely her reputation was the result of malicious and jealous tongues.

“Well Josh, do you wish to go to Portico tomorrow?”

“I do, sir,” Josiah replied softly.

“The company of kings clearly suits you.” Nelson put a hand on his stepson’s shoulder and smiled. “Well, I can say that your desire outweighs mine. Another royal feast will be the death of me, I’m sure. And I fear we will have to depart at such an early hour that it will afford me little time to visit those of our seamen who have been brought ashore.”

“Sir William assured me they were being well looked after, sir.”

“It is my duty to ascertain that for myself. The men expect and deserve it. Remember that when you command your own ship. Put the well-being of your crew above all other considerations. Then when they are required to fight, they will do so willingly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I will require you to deliver some orders for me while I am thus engaged, so I suggest it is time we both retired.” He paused, looked around the well-appointed rooms, his mind full of the image of the lady of the house. “This will be something to tell your mother, will it not?”

Sleep was hard, partly because of the amount he had been obliged to eat, all of which seemed stuck somewhere between his throat and his ribcage. But he was equally troubled by his thoughts. His
relationship
with Fanny, easy to suppress while afloat and occupied, was now thrown into such sharp relief by the vision of Lady Hamilton that he could not erase it.

There was guilt too, the memory of the relief he had felt when they had finally weighed, the cutting of the umbilical cord to wife
and home, a feeling of being released from a prison of his own
making
. Home was never ashore, it was on a ship in the company of like-minded men: officers commissioned, warrant and appointed; topmen and upper yardsmen, able seamen and even landsmen fit only to haul on a rope. Lepée, for all his drinking and his foul moods, took on the attributes of a saint when compared to the dull, insular servants at Burnham Thorpe.