Bedford Square - Anne Perry [108]
“Would that not cause a mistrial?” Pitt asked.
“Only if there was a verdict of guilty,” Theloneus replied. “The Crown does not have the right to appeal against an acquittal. If it did, cases might never end.”
“Of course.” Pitt had not been thinking clearly. The idea of Cornwallis in such a situation—that, in fact, he might already be compromised—was even more painful than he had expected. He had said nothing, but he was a uniquely lonely man, used to the isolation of command at sea, where he could never confide in anyone or his power to lead would be damaged beyond repair. The captain was as alone on the quarter deck as if he were the only man on the face of the ocean. The slightest weakness, indecision, possibility of ignorance or error, and his position was forfeit. Everything in the structure of rank, obligation and privilege conspired to make it so. It was the only way someone could survive in an element which obeyed only its own rules and knew neither thought nor mercy.
Cornwallis could not change in a few short years, perhaps not ever. When he faced danger he would revert to the skills he knew, the ones that had carried him through countless perils before. It was an instinct he probably could not have helped, even had he wanted to.
“Is Tannifer involved?” Pitt asked, thinking of Parthenope and her fierce loyalty.
“It is embezzlement. It is possible,” Theloneus answered.
“Cadell?” Pitt went on.
“African funds. The Foreign Office may be concerned.”
“Balantyne?”
“I can’t see how, but there is much yet to be uncovered.”
“I see.” Pitt stood up slowly. “Thank you very much for your time … and your thoughts.”
Vespasia leaned forward to rise, and Theloneus offered her his arm. She took it, but lightly; as a gesture, not an assistance.
“I am afraid we have not helped, have we?” she said to Pitt. “I am sorry, Thomas. The roads of friendship are sometimes strewn with many pitfalls, and some of them can hurt a great deal. I wish I could say Cornwallis will not fail, but it would be a lie, and you would know it. Nor can I say that, even with the utmost courage and honor, he will not be hurt. But we shall not cease to fight with the very few and inadequate weapons we have to hand.”
“I know that.” He smiled at her. “We are not beaten yet.”
She gave a very slight smile back, but was too tense to argue.
They parted from Theloneus, leaving him standing in the lighted doorway, and drove home in her carriage through the lamplit streets, neither feeling it necessary to speak any further.
The following morning Pitt went to see Cornwallis. He was torn between the personal loyalties of friendship and the necessities of his duty to pursue knowledge to its end. Whether Cornwallis understood that or not, he could not deliberately fail in it and remain of use to either of them.
Cornwallis was pacing the floor again. He swung around and stopped as Pitt came in, almost as if he had been caught in some nefarious act. He looked as if he had not eaten properly or slept well in days. His eyes were sunken into his head, and for the first time since Pitt had known him, his jacket did not sit smoothly on his shoulders.
“I have had another letter,” he said baldly. “This morning.” He waited for Pitt to ask what was in it.
Pitt felt his stomach lurch and his body go cold. This was the demand at last. He could see it in Cornwallis’s eyes.
“What does he want?” He tried not to betray his knowledge.
Cornwallis’s voice was rough, as if his throat were sore, and he spoke with difficulty.
“That I should drop a case,” he replied. “If I don’t, then the H.M.S. Venture matter will be exposed in every newspaper in London. I could deny it all I wished, but there would always be those who believed, those who doubted my version of events. I … I should be blackballed from my clubs, perhaps even lose