Lady Grace’s foot pressed harder on Sharpe’s, warning him to be circumspect.
Lord William sneered. “Napoleon will not land in Britain, Fairley. The navy will see to that. No, the Emperor of France”—he invested the title with a superb scorn—”will strut and posture for a year or so yet, but he’ll make a mistake sooner or later and then there’ll be another government in France. How many have we had in the last few years? We’ve had a republic, a directorate, a consulate and now an empire! An empire of what? Of cheese? Of garlic? No, Fairley, Bonaparte won’t last. He’s an adventurer. A cutthroat. He’s safe so long as he wins victories, but no mere cutthroat wins forever. He’ll be defeated one day, and then we shall have serious men in Paris with whom we can do serious business. Men with whom we can make peace. It’ll come soon enough.”
“I trust your lordship’s right,” Fairley said dubiously, “but for all we know this fellow Napoleon might have crossed the Channel already!”
“His navy will never put to sea,” Lord William insisted. “Our navy will see to that.”
“I have a brother in the navy,” Tufnell said mildly, “and he tells me that if the wind blows too strong from the east then the blockade ships run for shelter and the French are free to leave port.”
“They haven’t sailed in ten years,” Lord William observed, “so I think we can sleep safe in our beds.” Lady Grace’s foot slid up and down Sharpe’s calf.
“But if the Emperor doesn’t invade Britain,” Pohlmann asked, “who will defeat France?”
“My money’s on the Prussians. On the Prussians and Austrians.” Lord William seemed very certain.
“Not the British?” Pohlmann asked.
“We don’t have a dog in the European rat pit,” Lord William said. “We should save our army”—he glanced at Sharpe—”such as it is, to protect our trade.”
“You think we’d be wasted fighting the French?” Sharpe asked. Lady Grace’s foot pressed warningly on his.
Lord William contemplated Sharpe for a moment, then shrugged. “The French army would destroy ours in a day,” he said with a sneer. “You might have seen some victories over Indian armies, Sharpe, but that is hardly the same as facing the French.”
The foot pressed harder on Sharpe’s instep.
“I think we would acquit ourselves nobly,” Major Dalton averred, “and the Indian armies were not to be despised, my lord, not to be despised at all.”
“Fine troops!” Pohlmann said warmly, then hastily added, “Or so I’m told.”
“It isn’t the quality of the troops,” Lord William said, nettled, “but their leadership. Good Lord! Even Arthur Wellesley beat the Indians! He’s a distant cousin of yours, ain’t he, my dear?” He did not wait for his wife to answer. “And he was never very bright. A dunce at school.”
“You were at school with him, my lord?” Sharpe asked, interested.
“Eton,” Lord William said curtly. “And my younger brother was there with Wellesley who was no damn good at Latin. He left early, I believe. Wasn’t up to the place.”
“He learned to cut throats, though,” Sharpe said.
“Didn’t he just!” the major agreed eagerly. “You were at Argaum, Sharpe. Did you see him muster those sepoys? Line broken, enemy raining shot like hail, cavalry lurking on the flank and there’s your cousin, ma’am, cool as you like, bringing the fellows back into line.”
“Arthur is a very distant cousin,” Grace said, smiling at Dalton, “though I am glad of your good opinion of him, Major.”
“And of Sharpe’s good opinion, I hope?” Dalton said.
Lady Grace shuddered as if to suggest that it would demean her even to consider an opinion of Sharpe’s, and at the same time she kicked him on the shin so that he almost grinned. Lord William regarded Sharpe coldly. “You only like Wellesley, Sharpe, because he made you an officer. Which is properly loyal of you, but scarcely discriminating.”
“He also had me flogged, my lord.”
That brought silence to the table. Lady Grace alone knew Sharpe had been flogged, for she had drawn her long white fingers across the scars on his back, but the rest of the table stared at him as though he were some strange creature just dragged up on one of the seamen’s fishing lines. “You were flogged?” Dalton asked in astonishment.