The Dominion's Dilemma: The United States of British America (33 page)

___________

     The USBAA commander was standing by himself, observing the crowd’s antics with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. Maria Scott was barely visible in a group that included Floride Calhoun, Sara Polk and Mrs. Latoure. Lucille, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen, though Tom thought he could hear her flirtatious laugh in a separate group dominated by the senior Senator from Massachusetts.
Damn that Webster, he’s just married a year or so…
      Scott was direct: “I’ve considered your request, Lieutenant. Can’t see any harm in you briefing the Latoure ladies on the situation. You may do so Friday. Leave first thing in the morning. I’ll arrange things with The Residency. I assume you’ve already been to their plantation? Cranford, isn’t it?
     “To be fair, however, I want you to stop at Arlington House first. I’ve ordered Mr. Lee here for the speech on Saturday, but I want you to brief Mary Friday morning on your way to Cranford. That way Lieutenant Lee will have some idea what to expect Saturday in case I don’t have an opportunity for a word with him before the Duke’s address. I expect he’ll arrive at Arlington House late Friday evening.”
       Tom was surprised and grateful. He had not expected to be granted formal permission to brief the Latoures beforehand but felt it important enough to at least so request. Briefing Mary Lee, however, could be tricky; he was never quite sure how much Mary understood…or wanted to so let on.
        “Thank you, General. I’ll go over to Arlington House whether or not I go on to Cranford…”
      “Not to worry, Lieutenant. I’m ordering you to Alexandria on War Department business. Mrs. Latoure already has the word to expect you. Meanwhile, see if you can rescue that charming young daughter of hers from that New England Lothario, Webster. That’s an order.”

___________

     George McDuffie hadn’t taken much notice of the one-eyed Russian when their host, Consul-General Jean-Claude, had offered to introduce the fellow, who was standing alone with the towering Russian C-G and his lovely young daughter.
       Jean-Claude, however, had mentioned that the gentleman---a college professor on holiday, the Frenchman had said--was about to embark on a tour of the South after spending the last week observing British American democracy in action.
      “You’ll be leaving at precisely the right moment, Sir.” (McDuffie was not about to attempt the Russian’s unpronounceable name, even if he could have remembered it.) “Spring comes earlier to our part of the South than here in northern Virginia.”
      Andre smiled innocently: “So I have been informed, Congressman. I also understand that with the special session over this weekend, most of you will be returning to your homes in time to enjoy the warmer weather. Perhaps I will have the opportunity to see you and Senator Calhoun when I visit South Carolina. I have so many questions to ask concerning your fascinating democracy…”
         If McDuffie was taken back, he covered his surprise coolly: “Well, Sir, I can’t speak for the Senator, but I will look forward to showing you some real South Carolina hospitality myself. And conversation with an educated gentleman such as yourself is always a pleasure to be anticipated.”

       McDuffie offered his hand and moved away.
        “Well, ‘Andre,’ it appears you’ve made a favorable impression. The Congressman is a leader of the Southerners.” Renkowiitz eyed the intelligence chief curiously.
      “It’s Calhoun I need to make arrangements to speak with, Renkowiitz, not some pompous Congressman. See if you can arrange an introduction. The Frenchman is the host. Have him bring me over.”
        Caroline had remained silent during the exchanges, projecting an air of restless boredom. Count Ignatieff’s blunt proposal to visit the South Carolina leadership in their home state had startled her, however; why on earth would he wish to speak with Calhoun, who was obviously out-of-power? She had expected Ignatieff to insist on an introduction to the new Vice Governor-General. Yet the Count seemed disinterested in meeting Van Buren. It made little sense…

___________

    By the time Tom had located Lucille in the milling crowd, she had rejoined her mother and Maria Scott. “Lieutenant, there you are!” Maria called from across a short carpet-width away, waving him toward them. “Lucille here was just asking about you, weren’t you dear?”
     Lucille’s smirk was as near to a sneer as Southern belles were permitted. “Actually, Mrs. Scott, I was simply wondering if there would be any upcoming openings on the General’s staff which could bring Lieutenant Lee back to Georgetown. You know how lonely Mary is without him. And I’m sure he misses little Custis.” She looked at and through Thomas.
    So this is the way it’s going to be,
Tom thought
. Well, it’s Mrs. Latoure I need to speak with, anyway
.
    “Good evening, Mrs. Scott, Mrs. Latoure.” He turned to Lucille: “I wouldn’t know anything about that, Miss Latoure. The General doesn’t share personnel decisions with junior officers. However, I do know there are no engineering projects scheduled at this time in and around Georgetown, so the odds are Robert will stay at Old Point Comfort until Fortress Monroe is completed.” He smiled innocently.
      
Enough of this sniping back and forth
, decided Mrs. Latoure. “I understand, Lieutenant, that General Scott has ordered you to Alexandria on Friday. I hope you intend to stop by Cranford? It’s been so long since we’ve had the pleasure, hasn’t it Lucille?”
      Before her dumbfounded daughter could interject, Thomas was accepting the invitation. “I’d be delighted to, Mrs. Latoure. The General has scheduled several stops for me in your area that morning. I look forward to visiting Cranford again. With your permission, I will be there in early afternoon.”
      “My daughters and I will look forward to it, won’t we, Lucille?”
      The daughter’s smirk was back in place. “With bated breath, Mother, I’m sure.”
       The Lieutenant politely nodded and moved away, leaving the older women to wink at each other as the fuming Lucille glared at her mother.

___________

     Lucille wasn’t the only one in the increasingly boisterous crowd who was fuming. Captain Bratton was furious that those Liaison Office incompetents hadn’t reported that Karlhamanov was here at the Consulate. (In actual fact, Major Layne had called off the tail on Andre several days earlier when it became evident that the Russian was spending most of his time at the Golden Eagle.)
    Now Bratton---whose anger was strictly professional, as the thought of Joanne Casgrave at a diplomatic reception was inconceivable---could only stare as Andre was introduced to a circle of Southerners gathered around Calhoun.
     The scene had also caught the eye of Frank Blair, who left a group that included the Prussian, Von Benes, and approached Harry. “The stranger with the eye patch, Captain Bratton. Do you know him? I don’t believe I’ve ever laid eyes on him before. And official Georgetown is such an insular place such a thing hardly seems possible.”
     Bratton glanced at the American, whom he knew chiefly by reputation.
Better be
cautious, now, Harry. Don’t make a scene until you know more
. “Met him on the road from New York soon after I arrived, Mr. Blair. Answers to the name of Karlhamanov. Claims to be an exiled Russian liberal, a college professor. Haven’t a clue what he’s doing here tonight, though.”
     “A Russian liberal, eh? Well, it is possible. The French are in one of their own liberal phases at the moment. Perhaps he knew the Jean-Claudes in Europe.” Both men could now see the French C-G move away after concluding the Russian’s introduction to the circle of Southerners. Andre now remained with Calhoun and the others.
    Perhaps he is setting up stopovers for his much-delayed tour of the South
, Bratton thought.
I had dismissed him from my mind, thinking he’d already left. Then
again, he
may be having a difficult time tearing himself away from the arms of his paramour
…
    A few minutes later, after bowing to the Southerners, Ignatieff looked around and saw the British officer and another, older, man watching.
So the good Captain has
accompanied his superior
to the party. Let me be most congenial
. He quickly walked toward the pair, his ‘liberal face’ fixed in place.
    “My dear Captain. It is so good to see you again. And, of all places, on French soil, so to speak.” He bowed formally and turned toward Blair. “I have not had the pleasure, Senator…?”
     Bratton was direct: “Andre, this is Mr. Francis P. Blair, an advisor and confidant of the Governor-General. He was just inquiring about you. I was explaining that I thought you had left Georgetown to tour the South.”
     “A pleasure, Mr. Blair. I am Andre Karlhamanov, a dazzled visitor to your shores.” He turned to Harry. “On the contrary, Captain, since there are two more important speeches to be given before this exciting session of the Congress adjourns, I postponed my trip. Fortunately, as it turns out, as several Southern members of the Congress have graciously extended me invitations to visit them in their home states. Apparently, this famous ‘southern hospitality’ is no myth.”
     
And why would this ‘liberal’ be so interested in visiting with the most reactionary group of all the British American leaders?
, Harry thought. A quick glance at Blair revealed that the American also seemed skeptical.
     He decided to change the subject slightly. “Mr. Blair thought your presence here tonight might indicate a prior acquaintance with the Jean-Claudes, Andre. But I told him you had not mentioned it on our ride from New Jersey.”
      “On the contrary, Captain, Mr. Blair. I am here tonight on the coattails of Count Renkowiitz. He said this would be the most glittering night of the social season. I must agree. No one stages receptions like the French. I shall remember this while I am traveling the South. Though I doubt I will see the like till New Orleans. Even at Fort Hill Plantation.”
       Perhaps it was the unintentional reference to the site of his most dangerous assignment as a diplomatic. Or perhaps it was the Russian’s arrogant hinting of an invitation to visit Calhoun. But Bratton would later remember this moment as when his instincts and training convinced him that Andre was no mere ‘liberal Russian professor on tour.’
     Blair too had been studying the Russian while elaborately lighting a cigar. “Well, sir. It is a pleasure to meet you. However, I believe we separately should circulate. I’m sure we all have people we have yet to meet and greet this night. I will look forward to seeing you again, Mr., ah…”
     “Karlhamanov, Mr. Blair. I look forward to seeing you again, also.” The Russian bowed in the European style. He then turned to Harry. “So Captain, how was your trip?”
     “My trip, Andre?”
     “Yes, I thought it common knowledge that you accompanied the Duke to some Northern states. Was it a successful tour?”
     “Quite, from the Duke’s perspective.” He paused.
And how did he find out where we
went? There’s definitely more to this than meets the eye
. “I say, Andre. All this touring and exploring would make a fine travel book! Perhaps we could collaborate after our tours are completed.”
Let’s see his reaction to that
.
      Andre looked startled, but recovered his aplomb quickly. “Why, what a brilliant idea, my good fellow. Perhaps we should met tomorrow and discuss it.”
       Bratton was direct. “Yes, Andre, that may be advisable. However, now I must attend to His Grace. We will talk again.”
But not until I have determined your real identity, Russki.  That will be tomorrow’s first task…
       Ignatieff watched as the man he increasingly considered his nemesis worked his way through the crowd.
There may well be a book in this, my dear Captain. If so, however, it will not be by us, but
about
us…

CHAPTER-TWENTY SIX

The Residency
Georgetown, D.C.
February 28, 1833:
   Wellington had earlier today formally requested that Jackson clear his schedule for tomorrow afternoon so that he and the G-G could “review a number of matters regarding my presence here, including Saturday’s speech to the Congress.”  Further, the Duke’s note had mentioned, the meeting would take place at the Liaison Office. 
     Jackson, although privately grumbling that the session would adversely interfere with the writing of his inaugural address (scheduled for Monday), had of course agreed. His advisors had been surprised by the choice of locations. Jackson however recognized the request for what it was: a summons.
    “Private tour or whatever the case, Wellington is the King’s representative while in the USBA. And now His Majesty’s designated alter ego wants a word with the chief colonial. So I am summoned to his presence. This would, of course, be well nigh impossible if we met in
my
office,” he had sarcastically explained before exploding:
   “Ah, the Court of St. James! By the Eternal, I do so despise their whole damnable system!   
    “Sometimes I think we’d have been better off if Franklin and Burke had been lost at sea, allowing Washington and Howe to fight it out.”
     He had slammed his desk in anger; then, slowly looking up, had smiled at Blair and the other advisors. “However, sometime after noon tomorrow I will board my official carriage and ride in state to the Liaison Office. We’ll show these ‘Royal gentlemen’ that we simple Americans have a sense of protocol, too, by the Eternal!” 
    Pleased with the way the special session was winding down, the G-G planned to concentrate on his banking system revisions and a plan for stepped up Dominion-funded internal improvements in his second inaugural address, while also calling for further exploration and settlement of the West. He and the ‘kitchen cabinet’ had been concentrating on these key points ever since yesterday’s Senate vote had demonstrated that, as expected, the opposition could not override his planned Bank charter veto.
    Now he would have to put that work aside to sit with Wellington, who had, strangely, stated that the two would meet with a single designated aide apiece. The Duke would presumably be attended by Bratton. He had requested that Frank Blair sit in with Jackson. The G-G thought Blair could be more useful crafting the final drafts of his own address, but, sighing, had given Frank the word. Though thinking Andy Donelson would have been more appropriate.