In the week that followed the party at Stowe, Arthur received an invitation to attend the Lord Mayor’s Guildhall banquet. He was still waiting to hear if he had been appointed to the army destined for service in Hanover, and hoped that he might have the chance to further his ambitions at the dinner.

Crowds drew William Pitt’s carriage through the streets to the Guildhall, where they cheered him to the heavens as he descended. He acknowledged their acclaim with a bow and a smile. Then he entered the building, between ranks of applauding merchants, politicians and noblemen who fully realised the part he had played in making the victory at Trafalgar possible.

The banquet was held in a grand chamber, filled with long tables heavily laden with fine silverware, crystal and ornate dinner services. The worthy gentlemen of the capital and their guests were decked in their finery and Arthur, in his dress uniform, found himself seated opposite Lord Castlereagh. The Prime Minister, according to tradition, was seated at the head table next to the Lord Mayor, and Arthur was shocked to see that Pitt appeared to be in even poorer health than a few days earlier. Unnaturally pale, with sunken eyes, he hardly touched his food and spoke few words to those either side of him.

‘You seem preoccupied,Wellesley.’

Arthur glanced away from the Prime Minister and saw that Castlereagh was looking at him as he dabbed a spot of sauce away from the corner of his mouth. Arthur pursed his lips. ‘I was just considering the latest news of the war, my lord.’

‘Ah, yes. Grim tidings indeed.’

The details of Bonaparte’s victory at Ulm had reached London a day earlier. It seemed that nearly half of Austria’s army had been destroyed or taken prisoner. French forces were striking towards the very capital of the Austrian empire and there was little chance that Vienna could be saved before Russia and the other coalition powers could intervene.

Castlereagh cleared his throat and continued. ‘It would appear that the best chance of defeating Bonaparte now seems to hinge on the massing of the coalition forces for one decisive battle.’

‘I agree, my lord. That is why it is vital that a British army is landed on the continent as soon as possible.’

‘Of course.’ Castlereagh nodded. ‘The government understands that well enough, and the task is in hand. Despite the setback at Ulm, the Prime Minister is confident that we have the beating of France. It won’t be long before our soldiers are chasing the Corsican tyrant all the way back to his bolt-hole in Paris.’

‘I hope so, my lord.’

Castlereagh took a sip of wine and looked shrewdly at Arthur. ‘I imagine you are wondering if you will be assigned to the expeditionary force.’

Arthur kept his face expressionless as he stared back, and composed his reply.‘Naturally. It is every officer’s desire to serve his country at any opportunity.’