local food and ales, had a flavour the mere sense of which opened a whole treasure chest of memories. But most of all it was the light, that translucent glow from the setting sun that created mile long shadows across open fields, the light with which he had grown up.
That he was arriving here in the King George mail packet still rankled. The Admiralty, despite repeated requests, had failed to despatch a frigate to Hamburg to fetch him and the party of the returning Ambassador. It was a slight both to Sir William Hamilton and himself.
Four months was a long time to be unavailable for service, but he had told his superiors that he needed to restore his health, and he had done something beneficial as well in the political sphere. The diplomatic effect of the victor of the Nile turning up in person at the central European courts while Bonaparte was rampant had been of immeasurable importance, but this seemed not to have registered with the Admiralty.
From the Grand Duke of Tuscany, the Emperor of Austria, the aristocracy of Bohemia, to a raft of German dukes, margraves and electors, he had set out to charm his hosts and encourage them to see that France was not invincible. His visits had been well received, andhe looked forward to stressing this to his political masters when he met them. Sir William and Emma, both accomplished in the diplomatic milieu, had aided that cause admirably. And at no time had it seemed to Nelson that their hosts suspected he and Emma were lovers.
Sir William, with a sharper eye and more experience knew differently. The attentions paid by Nelson to Emma were more evident than the Admiral supposed, not least the open admiration in his look whenever Emma spoke, sang or moved around the room at some distance from him. She would sit with him at the Faro table, playing cards with his money, gifting him her winnings or burdening him with her losses, all the time in such close physical proximity that a blind man would have suspected an association.
Yet even Sir William had to admit that Emma had handled her pregnancy, which she had never admitted to him, with discretion. She was visiting places where she was known only by reputation as a beauty and a performer of classical attitudes, and in the earlier stages of their travels the bloom of her condition had added to that. In northern Italy and Vienna she had scored no end of triumphs: the elderly genius Joseph Haydn, who had insisted she sing for him, had made it plain that he was prepared to be more than just a distant admirer.
The only one who seemed oblivious to the true nature of affairs was Cornelia Knight. Emma’s close companion seemed unaware of the affair and its burgeoning consequences. Perhaps it was enough for her to bask in the fame of the man with whom she was travelling: perhaps it was a desire to see nothing but good or simply that Cornelia Knight was unworldy. No great beauty, she was not particularly attractive to the opposite sex and her tendency to gabble and her very strident voice were off-putting too. Sir William had often seen male companions frown when she brayed some remark. When she laughed, which she did frequently, Cornelia could be heard across a crowded room.
But she clearly loved Emma and admired Nelson, forever penning songs and odes to the hero that she recited at every opportunity, her favourite being the new words she had put to the tune of Rule Britannia. On the road, in the discomfort of a swaying carriage, her enthusiasm for any sight, sound or event that took her eye lifted rather than diminished the spirit. As a travelling companion, Emma claimed she was without peer, given the ease with which she could make her laugh.
As the journey progressed Emma began to put on weight, but thatmattered little; she was amongst strangers or people who had not seen her for years. Nelson watched her closely for any sign of ill health, Sir William with the jaundiced eye of a man who had at one time contemplated fatherhood by the
That he was arriving here in the King George mail packet still rankled. The Admiralty, despite repeated requests, had failed to despatch a frigate to Hamburg to fetch him and the party of the returning Ambassador. It was a slight both to Sir William Hamilton and himself.
Four months was a long time to be unavailable for service, but he had told his superiors that he needed to restore his health, and he had done something beneficial as well in the political sphere. The diplomatic effect of the victor of the Nile turning up in person at the central European courts while Bonaparte was rampant had been of immeasurable importance, but this seemed not to have registered with the Admiralty.
From the Grand Duke of Tuscany, the Emperor of Austria, the aristocracy of Bohemia, to a raft of German dukes, margraves and electors, he had set out to charm his hosts and encourage them to see that France was not invincible. His visits had been well received, andhe looked forward to stressing this to his political masters when he met them. Sir William and Emma, both accomplished in the diplomatic milieu, had aided that cause admirably. And at no time had it seemed to Nelson that their hosts suspected he and Emma were lovers.
Sir William, with a sharper eye and more experience knew differently. The attentions paid by Nelson to Emma were more evident than the Admiral supposed, not least the open admiration in his look whenever Emma spoke, sang or moved around the room at some distance from him. She would sit with him at the Faro table, playing cards with his money, gifting him her winnings or burdening him with her losses, all the time in such close physical proximity that a blind man would have suspected an association.
Yet even Sir William had to admit that Emma had handled her pregnancy, which she had never admitted to him, with discretion. She was visiting places where she was known only by reputation as a beauty and a performer of classical attitudes, and in the earlier stages of their travels the bloom of her condition had added to that. In northern Italy and Vienna she had scored no end of triumphs: the elderly genius Joseph Haydn, who had insisted she sing for him, had made it plain that he was prepared to be more than just a distant admirer.
The only one who seemed oblivious to the true nature of affairs was Cornelia Knight. Emma’s close companion seemed unaware of the affair and its burgeoning consequences. Perhaps it was enough for her to bask in the fame of the man with whom she was travelling: perhaps it was a desire to see nothing but good or simply that Cornelia Knight was unworldy. No great beauty, she was not particularly attractive to the opposite sex and her tendency to gabble and her very strident voice were off-putting too. Sir William had often seen male companions frown when she brayed some remark. When she laughed, which she did frequently, Cornelia could be heard across a crowded room.
But she clearly loved Emma and admired Nelson, forever penning songs and odes to the hero that she recited at every opportunity, her favourite being the new words she had put to the tune of Rule Britannia. On the road, in the discomfort of a swaying carriage, her enthusiasm for any sight, sound or event that took her eye lifted rather than diminished the spirit. As a travelling companion, Emma claimed she was without peer, given the ease with which she could make her laugh.
As the journey progressed Emma began to put on weight, but thatmattered little; she was amongst strangers or people who had not seen her for years. Nelson watched her closely for any sign of ill health, Sir William with the jaundiced eye of a man who had at one time contemplated fatherhood by the
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