the bounds of proper behaviour, for which Emma was grateful.
Then there was the Chevalier himself, dancing on her as much attendance as his duties would allow. The residence of the King was close to the Palazzo Sessa; a short walk away the Palazzo Reale hugged the shoreline. The journey there and back was one he made several times a day, so ensuring that his beautiful guest was rarely, if ever, alone.
Being an ambassador required frequent attendance on the King, even more upon his wife, Queen Maria Carolina. She was the daughter of the formidable Maria Theresa of Austria, sister to the French Queen Marie Antoinette. Ferdinand, her husband, was a simple oaf, though in truth his lack of dignity was not entirely his fault. When his eldest brother had gone mad it was decided that education of any sort might have a deleterious effect on the unformed mind of this future sovereign. So, instead of being taught those things necessary to run a kingdom, martial skills, financial acumen, shrewd evaluation of advice given, and a degree of manners, he had beenleft to his own devices and passions. The centre of these was hunting, both wild animals and ladies of the court, closely followed by an appetite that bordered on gluttony.
Tall and imposing, with a direct demeanour, he looked at a distance every inch the King. Close to, the corpulence was less impressive, the vacuous look in the eye and the lack of intellect obvious. He was a buffoon, but an amiable one, a combination that had great appeal to his fickle subjects. They saw a man who looked like a monarch and behaved like a peasant, a fellow who was not above relieving himself over the walls of his various palaces, spraying his subjects with a generous dose of royal piss.
Emma was fascinated by the regal goings-on. The Queen was as much an object of interest as her husband: mother of a dozen children, the voice of power on the Royal Council, the real ruler of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies. When he spoke of her Sir William praised her sharp mind and deep intellect, her sense of duty and purpose, as well as her devotion to her husband. This not only saw her forever brought to the delivery couch, but extended to ensuring that when he strayed, which he did often, the women she chose for him were either poor and clean, or well born and already married , so of no risk to her position.
Emma’s mother watched all of this with an acute eye and, when she was reasonably certain of her suspicions, on a day when Emma was out of the Palazzo Sessa visiting a dressmaker, asked the Chevalier if she could have words with him.
Chapter Six
T HE MEETING took place in Sir William’s apartments, which were crammed with the results of his digging and his purchases. It was difficult to move without knocking over some valuable object or bumping into a case full of antique coinage. Seated, Sir William enquired as to what she required.
“Little, sir, ’cept enlightenment. I would like to know, Sir William, why there’s not a soul in the town who does not, by look and deed, think my Emma your mistress.” Mary Cadogan received a dismissive wave. The air of the professional diplomat was more obvious in this setting: the bland face and slight smile meant to convey friendship without commitment, the slow use of the hands to ward off anything unpleasant. “And I has the further impression that such an opinion has been held since we arrived here three months past.”
“Idle tongues, madam. Neapolitans love to gossip.”
“They were not the source, sir, since I’ve yet to comprehend the lingua .”
Sir William responded, in a bluff manner, “Our English visitors are equally afflicted with that particular disease, Mrs Cadogan. They chatter and they write letters home, few of which contain a single grain of truth. It is the bane of my existence mollifying both a court and a ministry that choose to give their ravings credence.”
“I asked for this interview, sir, with the intention of speaking
Then there was the Chevalier himself, dancing on her as much attendance as his duties would allow. The residence of the King was close to the Palazzo Sessa; a short walk away the Palazzo Reale hugged the shoreline. The journey there and back was one he made several times a day, so ensuring that his beautiful guest was rarely, if ever, alone.
Being an ambassador required frequent attendance on the King, even more upon his wife, Queen Maria Carolina. She was the daughter of the formidable Maria Theresa of Austria, sister to the French Queen Marie Antoinette. Ferdinand, her husband, was a simple oaf, though in truth his lack of dignity was not entirely his fault. When his eldest brother had gone mad it was decided that education of any sort might have a deleterious effect on the unformed mind of this future sovereign. So, instead of being taught those things necessary to run a kingdom, martial skills, financial acumen, shrewd evaluation of advice given, and a degree of manners, he had beenleft to his own devices and passions. The centre of these was hunting, both wild animals and ladies of the court, closely followed by an appetite that bordered on gluttony.
Tall and imposing, with a direct demeanour, he looked at a distance every inch the King. Close to, the corpulence was less impressive, the vacuous look in the eye and the lack of intellect obvious. He was a buffoon, but an amiable one, a combination that had great appeal to his fickle subjects. They saw a man who looked like a monarch and behaved like a peasant, a fellow who was not above relieving himself over the walls of his various palaces, spraying his subjects with a generous dose of royal piss.
Emma was fascinated by the regal goings-on. The Queen was as much an object of interest as her husband: mother of a dozen children, the voice of power on the Royal Council, the real ruler of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies. When he spoke of her Sir William praised her sharp mind and deep intellect, her sense of duty and purpose, as well as her devotion to her husband. This not only saw her forever brought to the delivery couch, but extended to ensuring that when he strayed, which he did often, the women she chose for him were either poor and clean, or well born and already married , so of no risk to her position.
Emma’s mother watched all of this with an acute eye and, when she was reasonably certain of her suspicions, on a day when Emma was out of the Palazzo Sessa visiting a dressmaker, asked the Chevalier if she could have words with him.
Chapter Six
T HE MEETING took place in Sir William’s apartments, which were crammed with the results of his digging and his purchases. It was difficult to move without knocking over some valuable object or bumping into a case full of antique coinage. Seated, Sir William enquired as to what she required.
“Little, sir, ’cept enlightenment. I would like to know, Sir William, why there’s not a soul in the town who does not, by look and deed, think my Emma your mistress.” Mary Cadogan received a dismissive wave. The air of the professional diplomat was more obvious in this setting: the bland face and slight smile meant to convey friendship without commitment, the slow use of the hands to ward off anything unpleasant. “And I has the further impression that such an opinion has been held since we arrived here three months past.”
“Idle tongues, madam. Neapolitans love to gossip.”
“They were not the source, sir, since I’ve yet to comprehend the lingua .”
Sir William responded, in a bluff manner, “Our English visitors are equally afflicted with that particular disease, Mrs Cadogan. They chatter and they write letters home, few of which contain a single grain of truth. It is the bane of my existence mollifying both a court and a ministry that choose to give their ravings credence.”
“I asked for this interview, sir, with the intention of speaking
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