The Launching of Roger Brook rb-1

by Dennis Wheatley

  The list of proposed guests had been returned from Versailles and the invitations sent out. They included all the Princes of the Blood, except His Royal Highness the Due d'Orleans, the twenty members of the Royal Council and, excepting the de Rohans, with their kinsmen, the Soubises, Guises and Lorraines, practically every great name that had figured in the history of France for the past three hundred years; Aiguilhon, Beaufort, Biron, Bouillon, Bourbon-Conde, Chatillion, Choiseul, Crillon, Epernon, Estrees, Gramont, Guemenee, Lambesq, Longueville, Luynes, Montmorency, Montpensier, Nemours, Nesle, Noailles, Richelieu, Rochefoucault, Soissons, Sully, Tremouille, Villeroy, Vend6me, together with a host of others, and the whole Corps Diplo­matique as at that date accredited to the Court of Versailles. Monsieur Roland was to be responsible for the service of the guests, and Roger was to be at hand from start to finish, in case during the evening the Marquis wished him to execute any special commission.

  On the great night, Athenais, her powdered hair ornamented with ostrich feathers and little garlands of fresh flowers, and wearing a dress of cream satin sewn with pearls, took her place beside her father at the top of the grand staircase, to receive her guests. By eight o'clock they were arriving in a constant stream, and soon Cardinals, Duchesses, Ambassadors and Marshals of France were mingling together in a dazzling concourse. At a quarter to nine the Captain of the King's guards arrived to take possession of the house in the name of His Majesty.

  At nine o'clock there sounded a loud fanfare of trumpets, announc­ing the approach of the Sovereigns, and Athenais and her father went down to receive them. Bowing or curtseying at every third step, the de Rochambeaus walked backwards before their royal guests right across the parquet floor of the great marquee until they reached the two high thrones, covered in blue velvet spangled with gold fleur-de-lys, that had been prepared upon a dais. When the King and Queen were seated their host and hostess personally offered them refreshments, and they formally broke little cakes on the gold platters and sipped wine from the crystal goblets.

  For the entrance of their Majesties the other guests had formed ten deep on each side of the room into a glittering lane, and sunk in a flurry of silks and ribbons, like corn before a gust of wind, in deep obeisance as the Royal couple advanced. Now they formed in a great half-circle, leaving an empty space before the thrones, to the right and left of which the Princes of the Blood and their ladies had seated them­selves on brocaded tabourets.

  The King signed to one of his gentlemen, who handed him a jewelled casket, which he gave to Athenais with his good wishes for her birthday. It contained a pair of beautiful emerald drop-shaped ear-rings. One of the Queen's ladies gave her a long, carved ivory box. Beckoning

  Athenais to her she kissed her lightly on the forehead and laid the box in her arms. On opening it a feather fan was disclosed made with infinite labour from thousands of woodcock points. "Monsieur" the King's eldest brother gave her a pair of diamond buckles; the little son of the Emperor of Cochin-china, then on a mission to the French Court, a beautiful lacquer box; Monsieur Simolin, the Russian Ambassador, a cape of sables; King George's emissary, the Duke of Dorset, a fine pair of Chelsea figures; the Comte de Mercy, a case of Imperial Tokay; and so for an hour it continued, while the splendidly clad denizens of the ancien regime paid homage to birth and beauty, laying at her feet enough treasure to keep a thousand poor families from want for a twelvemonth.

  When the present-giving was over, at a sign from the King, the band struck up a minuet. Louis of France rose from his throne and led Athenais de Rochambeau out on to the floor; Marie Antoinette laid her tapering fingers on the arm of the Marquis, and the two couples took up their positions to open the ball.

  For two hours the stately dancing continued; myriads of candles making the jewels of the courtiers scintillate and sparkle as they threaded their way in and out of the complicated evolutions, their silks, satins and velvets blending and merging in a kaleidoscope of riotous colour.

  Most of the time Roger stood a little behind the row of tabourets to the right of the thrones, glorying in the beauty of his lovely Athenais, but always keeping the Marquis in view in case some service was required of him. From time to time various friends came up and chatted to him for a while; M. de la Tour d'Auvergne—as anxious as Roger was to know his fate—Count Louis de Narbonne and the Abbd de Perigord among them.

  The lame Abbé, clad in a suit of dove-grey silk, his piquant face alight with animation was, as usual, enjoying himself immensely. The fact that he was lame made other men always get up on his approach and offer him their seats, while he was never expected to extend a similar courtesy to them. In consequence, he gravitated gracefully from one to another of all the loveliest women present, and lingered at their sides whispering amusing immoralities to each of them behind their fans for as long as he listed then, with apparent regret, tore himself away to murmur the latest scandal into the willing ear of another.

  Roger proved poor company that night for the people who talked to him. He knew the programme; dancing till midnight, then the announcing of the engagement, then an adjournment for supper, then dancing again until two o'clock, at which hour their Majesties would leave; but the band would play on till four, and by five it was hoped that any lingering drunks would be carried off to their coaches by their servants.

  The two hours' dancing before supper seemed an eternity to him and afterwards he only remembered one episode during it. He had moved out a little down one side of the room and was standing behind two men who were some way apart from the crowd.

  Suddenly he heard one of them say in English: "I'd give a thousand guineas to know what's inside that damn' fellow's head. If ever there was a mischief-maker, he is one."

  The other replied quietly: "Don't worry, Your Grace. We'll know in due course. We have a very reliable agent here. It seems that he is averse to contacting the Embassy, but, no doubt, should any crisis arise he will return home and report to Maxwell personally."

  Roger saw that they were both looking intently at the Marquis, and he knew that the first speaker was the British Ambassador, the Duke of Dorset. It flashed into his mind that the other was probably Mr. Daniel Hailes, and that he himself was the "very reliable agent" referred to.

  The fact that his King's representatives knew of and counted on him came as a shock, and even more so the intimation that, in the event of a crisis, he was expected to go home and report in person.

  At last the band stopped playing, the Sovereigns returned to their thrones and the glittering throng formed again into a great half-circle before them. Under the direction of Monsieur Roland scores of footmen had appeared carrying silver salvers loaded with glasses of champagne. The major-domo himself brought two lovely Venetian goblets on a gold salver to M. de Rochambeau. Going down on one knee the Marquis offered them to their Majesties and each took one.

  The King then stood up and addressed the assembled company. "Cousins, my lords and ladies; it is our Royal pleasure this night to er—thank Monsieur de Rochambeau for the very pleasant entertain­ment he has afforded us. It is also our, er—pleasure to give our Royal consent to a contract of marriage uniting two great and ancient families, both er—distinguished for their services to the Crown. We refer, of course, to the forthcoming nuptials of Mademoiselle de Rochambeau. It will be our Royal pleasure to sign as witness to the marriage contract on a suitable date at—er—our palace of Versailles. In wishing happiness to this couple it gives us special pleasure to know that M. le Marquis has selected for his son-in-law another great land­owner in our Province of Brittany."

  For Athenais's sake Roger's heart leapt for joy. The King's last words could only mean that the Marquis had decided to give her to M. de la Tour d'Auvergne.

  After a little pause the King coughed, and went on:

  "Mademoiselle de Rochambeau is indeed fortunate, as her husband-to-be is one of the richest men in our realm. But M. le Comte de Caylus is also to be congratulated...."

  CHAPTER xx

&nb
sp; THE BETROTHAL

  AGHAST, choking with shock and indignation, Roger took in the terrible sentence that had been passed on Athenais. As though in a nightmare he heard the heavy-faced, lugubrious King drone on, proposing the health and happiness of M. de Caylus and his future Countess; and saw the burly, sallow-complexioned quadroon step forward from a group of gentlemen on the far side of the thrones.

  De Caylus bowed very deeply, first to the Sovereigns, then to Athenais. Roger could not see her face but he knew what she must be feeling and he feared that she might faint under the shock. But, with the self-discipline that was one of the virtues of her caste she went through the prescribed formalities without even a tremor. Having sunk almost to the ground in a graceful curtsey she slowly rose to her full height and extended her right hand. The King took it and placed it in M. de Caylus's left. Then raising his goblet the Monarch toasted the affianced pair. A moment later the great marquee was ringing with the cheers of the splendid company.

  The King gave his arm to the Queen. With her on his left and M. de Rochambeau one pace behind him to his right they led the way up the grand staircase to supper. Athenais and M. de Caylus walked immediately behind them, then came the chastely beautiful Princess de Lamballe, who was in attendance on the Queen, escorted by Comte Lucien de Rochambeau and, after them, the Princes, Ambassadors and nobles followed in strict order of precedence.

  It took twenty minutes for the marquee to empty, and for most of that time Roger's brain refused to work. The thought of Athenais married to de Caylus made him almost physically sick, yet he knew that the vast majority of those who had witnessed the betrothal took a completely different view of the matter. They would not give a thought to the human, personal side of the affair but regard the alliance as eminently suitable.

  Their attitude to such matters was brought home to him afresh by seeing the Abbé de Perigord with the young and lovely Countess de Flahaut, whom everybody openly regarded as his wife in all but name, going upstairs to supper. By right of birth the Abbé" should have been the Count de Talleyrand-Perigord but, simply because he had met with an accident when a child, his father had deprived him of his right to inherit both title and estates, and forced him against his will to go into the Church. Yet the Abbé bore no resentment against his father; he recognised that in all things family must come first.

  How Roger got through the remaining hours of the ball he never afterwards remembered. At one time he looked everywhere for M. de la Tour d'Auvergne, but could not find him, and so assumed that, overcome with distress, he had gone home. In due course their Majesties, surrounded by their personal attendants, guards and trumpeters, were ushered to the long train of coaches that would bear the Royal party back to the Palais des Tuilleries. Soon afterwards Athenais, a fixed, strained smile on her face, which was chalk-white under her rouge, begged to be excused; but the dancing and hollow-sounding laughter seemed to go on interminably. At last the crowd began to thin but, owing to the congestion in the narrow street outside, it could not get away very rapidly. Roger saw that it would be another hour at least before all the guests had gone and, deciding that he could stand it no longer, went up to his room.

  When he reached it the summer dawn was already breaking, so he saw at once the small, huddled figure sprawled face downwards on his bed. It took him only a second to guess that when Athenais's maids had left her for the night she must have crept up to the play­room and crossed the roof to climb in at his window. Throwing himself on his knees beside the bed, he took her in his arms.

  She was so distraught with grief that, for a time, she could only sob her heart out on his chest and murmur:

  "Oh, Rojé, Rojé, what am I to do? I cannot bear it. I cannot bear it."

  With the comfort of his arms about her, gradually her paroxysms of weeping eased, and she said bitterly: "Why, with half the gentlemen in France to choose from, must my father give me to that loathsome creature. I would have done my best to make de la Tour d'Auvergne happy; I could have borne with de Porcin, or played a mother's part to httle de la Roche-Aymon. But the very thought of this beast repels me. Oh, Rojé, what shall I do?"

  "Can you not appeal to the Queen," he suggested. "She is said to be kind-hearted, and you say she likes you. Surely she would speak to your father?"

  Athenais shook her head. "Nay, 'twould be useless, dear love. The Queen is kind, but a martinet where duty is concerned. All the world knows how she must have suffered herself when she first came to Court as a beautiful young bride. The King has never been renowned for his address, and so oafish was he as a young Prince that 'twas seven years before he could bring himself to sleep with her. Everyone knew of her humiliation, yet she bore it with quiet pride, and expects others to face things disagreeable to them in a like manner. She would never interfere in a family matter such as this."

  Roger hesitated only a moment, before he said: "Then there is only one thing for it. We must elope together."

  She started up and clutched his wrist. "Elope! How can we, Rojé? Where could we go?"

  "To England, angel"

  "But did yon not tell me that your father had forbidden you his house?"

  " 'Tis true," he admitted. "But at least I am no servant there. My mother would help us, and in time my father will come round."

  "Are you sure of that? I love you, Rojé; oh, I love you dearly; yet I know only too well that I should make but a poor wife for a pauper."

  "All will be well. I'm certain of it," he said as firmly as he could manage.

  During the past nine months he had thought a hundred times of asking her to run away with him, but he had always put the thought from him because he had so terribly little to offer her. It was for that reason he had hesitated a moment back, before proposing such a desperate expedient. He knew that his mother would help them, as far as she could, but she had not a penny of her own; and, if his father remained adamant, even the best employment he could hope to get would produce an income that, to Athenais, would seem little better than penury. Yet, save her he must from de Caylus, and this seemed the only possible way that offered; so he went on with more confidence.

  "I've a hundred and fifty louis saved, which would keep us in reasonable comfort for a while. Then your jewels, with those you received to-night, must be worth a small fortune. God forbid that I should live on you like some shiftless adventurer; but they would provide a sheet anchor, were there some delay in my obtaining a suitable appointment. That should not be hard, though, after the experience I've had with your father. We would not be rich, but I've confidence in myself now, and once given a decent opening I vow I could earn enough to keep us like gentlefolk. And we'd have each other."

  She flung her arms round his neck. "Oh, Rojé, dear miller's youngest son; I've not a doubt but that in time you'll make your fortune, and I'd be content to wait for that. I hate the Court, with all its boring ceremonies and stupid etiquette. I'll leave it gladly if you can make enough so that we'll not starve."

  "Very well!" he cried, pressing her to him. "Oh, my beloved! I swear you'll not regret it. My father will come round. He could not do otherwise once he sees you. But that apart, we'll make a place for ourselves and have such joy in doing it. With you to work for nothing can stop me."

  "I know it," she laughed, turning her tear-stained face up to him. "As for my jewels, they are yours to do as you wish with. At least they would buy and furnish a pleasant little house. Then what you earned could be devoted wholly to food, clothes and servants, and— and children, if they came to us."

  "I hope they do. I'd adore to have a daughter just like you."

  "Oh, but I must have a son first. A son, Rojé, with your blue eyes and those lovely, long dark lashes."

  "We'll have both, dear heart; and more if you wish. Would you like lots of children?"

  "Yes. And I would keep them with us in our home. I'd not let them be put out to nurse as is the custom here in France."

  "I wouldn't let you, anyway," he smiled. "There is little point in
having children unless one has the fun of playing with them."

  "And telling them stories," she added. "I know so many lovely fairy stories that I shall be able to tell ours."

  "Our own story is better than any fairy tale, and you will be able to tell them that, my sweet Princess."

  "Dear miller's youngest son! I fear I'll find it very strange in England at first, though. Shall we five in London?"

  He nodded. "Yes, since 'tis there that I shall find my best oppor­tunities. And with you for my wife I'll be the proudest man in the whole city.

  "Your wifel" she whispered.

  Suddenly she gripped his arms with all her strength and her fingers dug into his muscles.

  "Your wife!" she breathed again. "But, Rojé, I had forgot. I never think of you as one, but—but you are a heretic. I could never marry a heretic."

  He too, had temporarily forgotten that last sinister barrier, of man-made bigotry, intolerance and superstition, which, towering high above all others, still separated them.

  "You would be an Englishwoman if you married me," he muttered, still dazed from the sudden shock to all the castles in the air they had been building. "And nearly everyone in England is a Protestant.

  "Don't ask me to recant!" she cried. "Don't ask me, I beg. I couldn't do it. 'Twould be to imperil my immortal soul."

  All Roger's love for her, all the mental pictures of the dream world they had been creating and his acute reluctance to leave her in her present desperate situation, fought within him against the inherited teachings of the Reformation; yet they were not strong enough to prevail entirely.