The Long Game

By Ellie Thomas

During the autumn of 1765 in London, Joshua Jones, a young working man of colour and aspiring artist, is grafting hard at his studies while earning his keep as a waiter in an exclusive St. James’ gambling club managed by his uncle.

The only cloud on Joshua’s horizon is the progress of his love affair with Frank Bartlett, an older man and unofficial diplomat who met and seduced Joshua the year before.

After an idyllic summer in Italy together, reality bites when they return to London, and Frank plunges into dealing with the disastrous political fallout from the proposed Stamp Act. Joshua understands his lover’s preoccupation but worries he is being pushed aside as Frank becomes so involved in diplomatic wrangling that he risks injuring his health.

During tough times, Joshua is determined to stick with Frank. But will Frank take notice? And how can Joshua convince his true love that he is there for the long haul?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Dec 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685503284

Book preview

Chapter 1

London, Autumn, 1765

Narrowing his eyes while holding his brush firmly, Joshua carefully added a line of Verdigris to the trees of his Italianate vista. Very good, Mr. Jones, came the melodious tones of Mr. Richard Wilson from behind his shoulder. Those few months in Italy have bestowed some continental polish on your composition. What age are you now, twenty-one? I must say, although you are young in years, you are growing fast in skill.

With a benevolent smile, the celebrated landscape painter carried on towards the next student to critique their progress. Unlike Joshua, a working man of colour, all the other students were sons of gentlemen, but Mr. Wilson distinguished his students’ progress by their talent and dedication. However, on this occasion, his kindly words did not have their intended effect. Rather than being galvanised by his painting master’s rare praise, Joshua’s thoughts wandered to charmed memories of the summer and his first travels beyond England’s shores.

* * * *

Rome had been a revelation. After an arduous journey over land and sea, Joshua had found the city intimidating to the eye and the limits of his palette as he followed the well-trodden path of eager young artists, taking classes, sketching famous landmarks and gardens, learning all the time.

His art studies filled his days, and in the evenings, he acted as a recorder for Mr. Francis Bartlett, whose purpose in Rome was to mingle and report back to his unofficial masters in London on diplomatic business. Joshua’s duties comprised writing notes as an aide-memoire and sketching the important guests and fabulous art treasures for a pictorial record of the glittering conversazioni, the fabulous evening parties held by Roman aristocrats in their vast palaces.

With his height, breadth, rugged good looks, as a man of culture and experience suited to his forty-odd years, Mr. Bartlett was in great demand socially amongst the Roman grandees and their foreign visitors. However, Joshua’s tasks were not too onerous as, despite the title of secretary, he was more of a travelling companion and confidant than an employee to Mr. Bartlett.

A patron in public and a lover in private, Joshua thought with a dreamy smile. The formalities of their stay in Rome depleted much potential for intimacy, a source of frustration since some exclusive time together had been the main intention of the trip. Rome was packed with influential visitors, and Frank’s company was so sought after that Joshua reckoned with mild exasperation, they managed to get more opportunities to be alone back in London.

During the baking heat of a Roman afternoon, Frank conversed and listened as he wandered through the countless piazzas as part of the social round, learning which cardinal to approach for certain political favours, or which hosts would attract those of most influence passing through the eternal city.

Once Joshua had completed his art lessons for the day and had raced back to their lodgings, a few rooms in an overcrowded palazzo, he would scribble down Frank’s conclusions on the day’s discussions before the inevitable evening party. Frank was assisted by his faithful valet, John Walker, into his understated finery, while Joshua speedily dressed in modest clothing suited to a superior servant, together with his artists’ satchel as his entrée to Roman high society.

* * * *

From what he had overheard from English visitors on their grand tour of the city-states, Joshua expected Naples to be as hectic, hot, and rancid as the cramped Roman streets.

So, he was dazzled by his first sight of the Palazzo Donn’Anna, the summer residence of Sir William Hamilton, the newly appointed British Ambassador in Naples. The magnificent building appeared to be suspended on the cliffs, overlooking the bay like a gracious galleon of enormous proportions in full sail. Such a prominent position promised light and airy accommodation, and the display of ancient Greek vases that Sir William had already amassed, made his hired apartments all the more exquisite.

As an old friend of Sir William, Frank’s small entourage was warmly welcomed. Joshua enjoyed the beautiful surroundings that appealed to his senses, and the informal atmosphere created by the Ambassador and his gracious wife Catherine, both talented musicians whose musical evenings were widely acclaimed.

Although Frank and Sir William conferred closely about international matters in private meetings, the atmosphere was more convivial compared to Rome. Having glanced at Joshua’s sketches, Sir William positively encouraged him to make drawings of the views from the windows around the Bay of Naples, as well as giving permission to copy down images of his collection of treasures, a chance which Joshua leapt at with alacrity.

Chapter 2

Towards the end of their stay in Naples, his mission complete, Frank had hired a small villa along the coast. For a full week, he and Joshua were free from any outer demands. Standing at his easel in the art studio on St. Martin’s Lane on a chilly October morning, Joshua recalled those days of sunny relaxation, as they swam in an impossibly blue sea. Afterwards, they lay on the baking rocks to dry off, Frank’s long dark hair clinging damply to those broad shoulders, bronzed by the sun, displaying the defined muscles of his arms and chest. Noticing Joshua’s admiring glance, his shrewd heavy-lidded grey eyes full of tenderness, Frank surveyed Joshua’s lithe, toffee-brown frame and said softly, You look like a merman, a siren from the tales of old, enticing unwary sailors to be cast against the rocks, spellbound by your allure.

In the evenings, they sat on the balcony overlooking the water, Joshua draped over Frank’s lap, sharing a glass of sweet wine as they watched the sun slowly dip below the horizon and tracked the