“My English friends have been complaining of this lack of coin for years-especially since the onset of war,” said Eliza, “but only you, monsieur, would have the penetration to see it as a defensive strategy.”
“That is just the difficulty-I did not penetrate it until rather late,” said Pontchartrain. “When one is planning an invasion, one naturally makes plans to pay the soldiers. It is as important as arming, feeding, and housing them-perhaps more so, as soldiers, paid, can shift for themselves when arms, food, and shelter are wanting. But they must be paid in local money-which is to say the coin of the realm in whatever place is being invaded. It’s easy in the Spanish Netherlands-”
“Because they are Spanish,” said Eliza, “and so you can pay them in Pieces of Eight-”
“Which we can get anywhere in the world,” said Pontchartrain. “But English pennies can only be gotten in England. Supposedly they are minted-”
“At the Tower of London. I know,” said Eliza, “but why do you say supposedly?”
Pontchartrain threw up his hands. “No one ever sees these coins. They come out of the Mint and they vanish.”
“But is it not the case that anyone may bring silver bullion to the Tower of London and have it minted into pennies?”
Pontchartrain was nonplussed for a moment. Then a smile spread over his face and he burst out in laughter and slapped the table hard enough to make money jump and buzz atop the playing-cards. It was a rare outburst for one of Pontchartrain’s dignity, and it stopped the game for a few moments.
“Monsieur, what an honour and a privilege it is for us to bring you a few moments’ diversion from your cares!” exclaimed Etienne. But this only brought an echo of the first laugh from Pontchartrain.
“It is precisely of my cares that your magnificent wife is speaking, monsieur,” said Pontchartrain, “and I believe she is getting ready to suggest something cheeky.”
Etienne’s face pinkened. “I pray it shall not be so cheeky as to create an embarrassment for our guests-”
“On the contrary, monsieur, ’tis meant to embarrass the English!”
“Oh, well, that is all right then.”
“Pray continue, madame!”
“I shall, monsieur,” said Eliza, “but first you must indulge me as I speculate.”
“Consider yourself indulged.”
“The jacht on which you arrived is under conspicuously heavy guard. I speculate that it is laden with specie that is meant to cross the Channel with the invasion force and be used to pay the French and Irish soldiers during their campaign in England.”
Pontchartrain smiled weakly and shook his head. “So much for my efforts at secrecy. It is said of some that he or she has a nose for money; but I truly believe, madame, that you can smell silver a mile away.”
“Do not be silly, monsieur, it is, as you said, an obvious necessity of a foreign invasion.”
For some reason she glanced, for a moment, at D’Erquy, and then regretted it. The poor chevalier was so transfixed that it took all her discipline not to laugh aloud. This poor fellow had melted down the family plate and loaned it to the King in hopes that it would get him invited to a few parties at Versailles. The interest payments had at first been delayed, then insufficient, later nonexistent. The man with the power to make those payments, or not, was seated less than arm’s length away-and now it had been revealed that he had sailed into St.-Malo on top of a king’s ransom in silver, which was locked up on a jacht a few hundred yards down the hill. A word, a flick of the pen, from Pontchartrain would pay back the loan, or at least pay the interest on it-and not just in the form of a written promise to pay, but in actual metal. This was the only thing D’Erquy could think about. And yet there was not a single word he could say, because to do so would have been impolite. Etiquette had rendered him helpless as effectively as the iron collar around a slave’s neck. All he could do was watch and listen.
“Want of silver is not your difficulty, then,” Eliza continued. “Very well. You must needs translate it across the Channel-very risky. For in the annals of military history, no tale is more tediously familiar than that of the train of pay-wagons, bringing specie to the troops at the front, that is ambushed and lost en route, with disastrous consequences to the campaign.”
