The prospect of becoming a father relieved Arthur of some of his gloom over the news from Europe that France had abolished the Holy Roman Empire and made itself ruler of a confederation of states in the Rhine area. The mood lasted until one morning, a week later, when there was a sharp rap on the front door. A footman showed his brother William into Arthur’s study. Looking up,Arthur was surprised to see his brother’s strained expression.

‘William? What is it?’

‘It’s Charles Fox,’William said baldly. ‘He died late last night.’

‘Fox is dead?’ Arthur stroked his chin. ‘Dead, do you say? Then there will be no treaty with France. Not now. No other Englishman would dare to treat with Bonaparte.’

‘Well yes, quite,’William responded quietly.‘And you know what that means?’

Arthur nodded soberly. ‘No peace. Just war to the bitter end. And only one of our nations will survive.’

Chapter 20 - Napoleon

Chapter 20

Napoleon

Paris, August 1806

The air was heavy and still and already the first distant rumbles of thunder could be heard amid the dark clouds edging across the city skyline. Napoleon dabbed at the perspiration along his hairline as he stared out of the open window. Even though he was naked he was hot and his skin was clammy. There was a sudden brief puff of breeze and the lace curtains ballooned around him before settling and sliding over his skin, making him shudder at the light sensation. Behind him, on the bed, Josephine stirred.

‘Sounds as if a storm’s coming.’

‘Yes,’ he replied softly, without turning round. Beyond the end of the Tuileries gardens the buildings were fading into the gloom and a dull band of shadow was creeping across the lawns towards Napoleon.There was another breath of wind, colder this time, and the first chilly pinpricks of rain on his face and chest. Still he did not move, and just watched as the leafy boughs on the trees lining the avenues began to shimmer and sway.Then there was a brilliant flash of sheet lightning that bathed the gardens in a ghostly white glare and almost at once the crack of thunder rolled across the city.The concussion rattled the windows of the imperial bedchamber. It reminded him of the sensation of the battlefield as the artillery of the Grand Army reverberated through the air and the earth itself.

‘Napoleon!’ Josephine sat up in alarm, staring across the room to where her husband stood gazing up at the sky as the lace curtains billowed round him like a shroud. His hands were clutching the window frame and he did not move, or respond to her. Throwing back the bedsheet, Josephine snatched up her silk gown and slipped into it as she hurried across the room and took his arm.

‘Napoleon? My love.’