The Redemption of Sir Edward Denham - A Return to Sanditon Novella

Seventeen

Berwick House, Mount Row, Mayfair

Jack was never more pleased to see his townhouse as he and his fellow travellers rounded the corner of Grosvenor Street into Mount Row. Lights had been left burning, though the hour was late. They walked their mounts around to the mews and handed them into the care of his stablemaster with instructions to have them returned to the ostler on the morn.

Carlisle and Denham followed him into the entrance hall of his London home and were left in the capable hands of his butler, Swinton, who promptly arranged for rooms and hot baths to be provided. Jack hastened away to locate Louisa; finding her sat in the library once more, a game of chess before her. Jack was surprised to see that she was not alone. Kit Ellis sat opposite her and stood as Jack entered the room, his face lit with relief.

Had he found his marchioness in any other man's company; Jack suspected that he would have been a deal more than surprised. However, Kit was obviously as anxious as Louisa for his return. His wife smiled widely upon noticing his arrival and hurried to greet him. After an enthusiastic and much-needed embrace, Louisa blushed and retired from the room, stating that supper trays would be organised for him and his guests as soon as possible.

Kit, who had moved to a discreet distance, allowing the couple a moment of privacy, once more remembered his purpose and enquired about the success of their endeavour.

"We managed to track the shipment to a pyrotechnics manufacturer in Wapping. I need you to organise round the clock surveillance as soon as possible." Jack replied, heading wearily to the sideboard and splashing two fingers of whiskey into a glass. He motioned to Kit, who declined to join him. "What news from the Home Office? They need to be apprised of the urgency of this matter."

"They have a team reviewing the journal and are trying to piece together all known activity. If I may be candid, My Lord, they don't seem to be too concerned at present."

Frowning, Jack took a seat in one of the fireside chairs, "When I advise them of my suspicions, they shall have no recourse but to sit up and take notice. Carlisle believes the attack is imminent and the target is almost certainly the Prime Minister or members of his cabinet."

Three days later Edward was sat reading a newspaper in the library of Berwick House. Political ramblings and the ups and downs of the financial markets dominated the rag was hardly riveting stuff. Tossing the broadsheet aside, he stood and wandered to the long window that overlooked the townhouse garden. There was an elaborate arrangement of rose beds and box hedges that gave the space uniformity. He wasn't one for flowers or plants, but he appreciated symmetry. At the centre of the garden, he saw the outline of an ornamental pond. Rectangular in shape, it reminded him of a similar construction in the grounds of Denham Place with its defined lines and expanse of still water interrupted only by the occasional lily pad. He hadn't thought of that pond in years. How much longer would it take before he was able to go home, he pondered wistfully.

The door to the library opened abruptly, interrupting his contemplation. Hargreaves and Carlisle strode in, quickly followed by Hargreaves' assistant, Kit Ellis. Immediately alert; this could mean only one thing, thought Edward.

"We've had word from our men in Wapping. The cargo left the warehouse this morning and is en route to the city." Hargreaves explained solemnly.

"Then it's as we feared. I've just read that the state opening of parliament was today and the Richmond Ball tonight." Edward replied, "Did your advice make any difference, Hargreaves?"

Carlisle abruptly stomped off towards the sideboard. Pouring himself a large glass of amber spirit, he downed it before choking. "Blasted whiskey, Jack! Hell's teeth. How can you drink this concoction? Where's the damn brandy?"

Ignoring his friends fit of poor humour, Hargreaves instead turned his mind to Denham's enquiry. "I took the advice to the very top. I tried to warn the Home Secretary of the threat and implored with him to keep the Prime Minister away from the event." Hargreaves looked like he had aged ten years in the past few days. Dark circles framed his piercing blue eyes, making them appear grey and lacklustre. "They just don't believe, even with the evidence we have, that the reformists are well organised enough to penetrate such a bastion of the Haute Ton. Imbeciles, the lot of them."

Jack sat heavily in one of the chairs set out for quiet reading. "The numbers under my command are fewer than we need. The Home Secretary will not divert resources to what he calls 'my hunch'. He doesn't want guards placed in Richmond House for fear of causing a panic, so it's just us and about a dozen of my most trusted men. Needless to say, we will be going against the orders of the Home Secretary himself." He looked up at Edward, "You're not obliged to continue to help us, Denham, and quite frankly, if I were you, I'd walk away now, but you've come this far, and we need every man we can get. Will you join us?"

Edward considered for a moment before reaching the only decision his conscience would allow. "I know I'm not your first choice in this - I'm no agent after all, but I can hardly walk away now, can I? I still owe you a debt for allowing me to return to my homeland. I saw the reformists and can identify them, so perhaps, I could be of some small help."

He could feel Carlisles assessing eyes upon him. Edward turned to meet his gaze and nodded. Carlisle acknowledged the action with a rare smile.

After running through their plan several times, it was a few hours later, and dressed in evening finery, that all four men climbed into a coach bound for Richmond House. Hargreaves had persuaded Louisa to forgo attendance, and she had reluctantly agreed.

Edward would have been amused by his appearance, so long had it been since he was trussed up in formal wear, had it not been for the seriousness of the night's endeavours. How was he, a wastrel and a peacock in the eyes of all of polite society, ever going to aid in the defence of the realm? It seemed ludicrous to his own ears, yet here he was.

A short time later they entered the ballroom after being announced by the master of ceremonies. If Edward had expected surprise at his re-entry into polite society, he was disabused. His name caused no whispers or obvious disdain; it evoked no reaction at all. The realisation made him inexplicably relieved.

Leading them deftly through the crowd, Ellis pointed out the prominent figures of the cabinet as they passed. It was disappointing to note how many had failed to heed Hargreaves advice. With luck, the reformist plans could be foiled because if not, there was a real possibility that half the ruling body of Britain would be incapacitated, if not dead by morn.

Edward and the others separated and began to prowl the perimeter of the ballroom. Grabbing a drink from a passing servant, Edward sauntered off in the direction of the terrace. Being early in the evening, it was blessedly empty. The skies were clouded, and only vague strains of moonlight illuminated the dark expanse of the gardens before him. Moving to stand by the terrace railing, he scanned his surroundings and waited.

A short time later, he was joined by Carlisle who nodded towards the partially shadowed parterre garden; shapes and symmetry again, Edward mused. How the aristocracy enjoyed order. That was what they were defending, after all, was it not: order.

"There is to be a fireworks display this evening, according to our esteemed hostess, just beyond the gardens. No expense will have been spared if I know the Duchess. She intends to make this an evening to remember." Carlisle spoke quietly, but Edward could hear his tone was laced with irony.

"Let's hope it's remembered for the right reasons, then." He replied in an effort to calm his apprehension.

"Indeed." Nodded Carlisle sombrely. "There will be an area set out for the most prestigious guests, and I would suggest that will be their target. A cluster of Government officials, all crowded together, enjoying the display. They will be like sitting ducks."