Chapter 11: A maggot in the fruit

It was a hot morning in early July, and I was sitting in my office in Taunton Castle, intermittently signing a plethora of papers and thinking of my sister Rebekah, when the sound of a galloping horse entering the courtyard interrupted my ruminations.
The Somerset Yeomanry provided the regiment with gallopers, stationed at the detached companies, and I thought it might be from Bridgewater.
I straightened my tunic, threw the unsigned paperwork into a desk drawer, and made my way downstairs, glad to be free of my office. However, the galloper was not a member of the Yeomanry but a dragoon, so I knew he had come from Bristol, where General Alten, my divisional commander at Waterloo, commanded the garrison.

As I entered the Regimental Office Otto handed me the dispatch brought by the galloper. My jaw dropped open when I read it:

I sat down in shock.”Boney’s dead” I gasped, and Otto, Casper, and the dragoon sergeant looked at me in the same open-mouthed way.
“Otto, please inform Magistrate Crossley of the news, and you, Casper, will draft a letter containing the information and send a copy to all companies.”

I had regained my composure and now looked more closely at the dragoon standing in front of me. I noted the insignia on his cap badge was that of a harp. “You are of the Eighth Light Dragoons, are you not, Sergeant?”
The man grinned widely. “That Oi am, sorr. Sergeant Gerald Mulligan, at your service, Colonel.”

“I thought I recognised the cap badge. Do you know a Captain Bassett?”

“That Oi do sorr. Oi had the honour to serve in the Captain’s troop until he retired from the army two years ago.”

“Captain Basset has left the army?”

“Yes, sorr. His father died two years ago, and the Captain’s brother became Viscount Carrickfergus in his place, and the Captain then took his brother’s former title of Baron Clonygowan.”

“Well, well, well –– so Matilda Basset is now Baroness Clonygowan –– she will be well pleased with that title.”

“By all accounts she is that, sorr. My family live in Portarlington, which is about two miles from Clonygowan, and Lady Matilda is frequently seen handing out baskets of food to the needy, so she is.”

I pulled a guinea from my purse and handed it to the Sergeant. “There you are, Sergeant Mulligan. Return to Bristol, and drink to the health of Lord and Lady Basset, and to the damnation of the soul of Napoleon Bonaparte.”

Bonaparte’s death would allow the government to bring back the 2000 plus men who had been guarding him at St Helena, and redeploy the frigates and sloops patrolling the waters around the island. It also meant Eloise de la Zouche would not be involved in any more plots to rescue him.
The thought caused me to reflect on her and Maddox. My revenge would not be complete until they were both dead, and yet I had done precious little in searching for either of them. I had allowed the command of the Lincoln Imps to occupy all my time, and most of my thoughts. I wondered if I should relinquish command of the Lincolnshire Militia, thereby allowing me the freedom to search for Maddox, whom I assumed would be in England, and after finding and killing him look for Eloise de La Zouche on the Continent.
I would definitely require assistance for the latter, and probably for the former, and the only place and person that could provide the means to achieve my ends was MI6, and John Stafford.

There was also the problem of my sister Rebekah, who appeared to be in a state of incommunicado. I knew her affair with Lord Byron had ended nearly two years ago, although it was he who had rebuffed her rather than vice versa. I believed Rebekah, or Becky as she is known these days, would then have re-joined the Shelleys, in order to collaborate with Mary on the second edition of the novel Frankenstein. Percy Shelley had agreed to this at the Marlow meeting where ‘rascality’ may have taken place. It could be Becky was so engrossed in literary activity she had no time, energy, or thought, to write to family or friends. Once Becky put her mind to something all her energies were focussed on that one target. I had a duty, as her brother, to search her out and assure myself she was content with her circumstances. This would entail travel to Italy – her last letter to the family had been sent from Naples – and would also require John Stafford’s assistance.

However, before I could make further deliberations on resigning from the Militia and seek employment with MI6, orders came from Horse Guards as how the coronation of King George IV was to be celebrated in the provincial towns and cities of the Kingdom. I was thrown into planning and discussions with Magistrate Crossley, and the Mayors and Aldermen of both Taunton and Bridgewater. By the time of the actual coronation on the 19th of July I was exhausted.

A celebratory church service was held on the morning of the coronation at St Mary Magdalene, followed by a street banquet for the town’s people in the afternoon. The day culminated with a Grand Ball, held in the Great Hall of Taunton Castle. I declined an invitation to the ball but instead sent Otto. I knew he had formed an attachment with a local girl, and conjectured he would benefit more than I from any social intercourse during the evening, which it seems he did.
In order to wet the new King’s head I donated a tun of strong ale, and a puncheon of scrumpy, to the men’s canteen. Even the most hardened of topers in the Lincoln Imps had learned to treat the latter beverage with respect during their stay in Somerset. A quart of scrumpy per man would be enough to lay out most of the regiment in a drunken stupor, so I ensured the handful of Methodists in the regiment, teetotallers to a man, would be available if sober and steady men were required at any juncture.

Once the coronation and its associated celebrations were at an end I looked forward to Major Dymoke’s return to the regiment, hand over command to him, and then seek employment with John Stafford. With the resources of MI6 available to me it should not take long to discover the whereabouts of Silas Maddox, and hopefully Eloise de la Zouche and my sister Becky.
Unfortunately, Major Dymoke was granted compassionate leave directly after the coronation. His wife had been struck down by some ague, and he went from Championing King George IV to the bedside of his stricken wife.
I would now have to stay in Somerset in command of the Lincoln Imps until either he re-joined the regiment or another commander appointed.
Nevertheless, I determined to write that evening to Horse Guards, asking to be relieved of command of the Lincolmshire Militia and be placed on the In Waiting List of half pay officers as soon as another regimental commander was in post.
I had contemplated resigning my commission, but hoped after tracking down Maddox, Eloise de La Zouche, and my sister, I would be able to resume my career in the army.