'I sure hope so! Oh, Marianne, Marianne! For months I have dreamed of this moment… when I'd be alone with you again at last… Just the two of us, you and me… with nothing between us but our love. Don't you reckon we've deserved that much?'
His voice, so warm and yet with a sardonic undertone never far away, was roughened and he was putting her hair aside to kiss the nape of her neck. Marianne shut her eyes. Already she was in torment.
'We are not alone,' she murmured, disengaging herself once more. 'There is Jolival… and Agathe… and Gracchus – any one of them might come in at any moment. This house is practically public property! Didn't you hear them clapping on the stairs?'
'Who cares? Jolival, Agathe and Gracchus have all known for long enough how matters stood. They'll understand that we want to be together, now, this minute.'
'They will, yes – but they are not all. The people here are foreigners and I must respect—'
Abruptly he had had enough. In a voice sharpened perhaps by disappointment, he flashed back:
'Well, what? The name you bear? It's a good while since we heard much about that! And if Arcadius is to be believed, you'd be a fool to waste too much consideration on a husband capable of abducting you and keeping you prisoner! Marianne, what's come over you? You're playing propriety all of a sudden, aren't you?'
Marianne was spared the necessity of answering by the arrival of Jolival. Jason stood frowning, somewhat put out, it seemed, by this untimely interruption which appeared to support Marianne's previous arguments.
Taking in the scene at a glance, Jolival saw Marianne at the mirror pinning up her hair while Jason stood at a little distance with folded arms, looking broodingly from one to the other in evident displeasure. Arcadius's smile was a masterpiece of conciliation and fatherly tact.
'It's only me, my children, and, believe me, I hate to interrupt your first meeting. But Lieutenant Benielli is here and he insists on coming up at once.'
'That confounded Corsican again? What does he want?' Jason growled.
'I didn't stop to ask him, but it may be important.'
Marianne stepped quickly over to her love and, taking his head between her hands, stifled his protests with a swift touch of her lips.
'Arcadius is right, my darling. We had better see him. I owe him a great deal. But for him, I might be lying drowned in the harbour by now. Shall we at least see what he wants?'
The cure was miraculous. The captain calmed down at once.
'The devil fly away with the fellow! But if that's what you want… Go and fetch the nuisance, Jolival.'
As he spoke, Jason turned away, straightening the dark-blue coat with the silver buttons which fitted so closely to his wiry, muscular form, and took up his stance at the window, clasping his hands behind his back, which he kept firmly to the unwanted visitor.
Marianne's eyes followed him lovingly. She did not know exactly why Jason should feel such antipathy towards her bodyguard but she was sufficiently well-acquainted with Benielli to guess that it had probably not taken him long to rub the American very thoroughly up the wrong way. So she respected his evident wish to have no part in the conversation and prepared to receive the lieutenant. His entrance and initial bow were punctilious enough to have wrung approval from the most exacting commanding officer.
'If your serene highness will permit, I have come to take my leave. I rejoin the Duke of Padua tonight. May I tell him that everything is now satisfactorily settled and that you are safely on your way to Constantinople?'
Before Marianne could reply, an icy voice spoke from behind her.
'It pains me to have to tell you that there is no question of this lady's travelling to Constantinople. She sails with me tomorrow for Charlestown where it is my hope that she will be able to forget that women were not made to be pawns on some political chessboard. That will be all, Lieutenant.'
Stunned by this uncompromising declaration, Marianne looked from Jason, pale and angry, to Jolival who was chewing his moustache with an air of embarrassment.
'Arcadius, didn't you tell him?' she asked. 'I thought you would have explained to Monsieur Beaufort about the Emperor's orders?'
'And so I did, my dear, but without a great deal of success. Our friend simply refused to listen and I thought it best not to insist, relying on you to be better able to convince him than I.'
'Then why didn't you tell me at once?'
'Don't you think you had enough to trouble you when you came here?' Jolival said quietly. 'It seemed to me that such diplomatic arguments could wait at least until—'
'I don't see that there is any argument about it,' Benielli broke in harshly. 'To my mind, when the Emperor commands he is obeyed.'
'You are forgetting one thing,' Jason said. 'Napoleon's commands are no concern of mine. I am an American subject and as such answerable only to my own government.'
'So? Is anything being required of you? The lady does not depend on you. The Emperor desires merely that she sails on a neutral vessel and there are a dozen in harbour. We can do without you. Go back to America!'
'Not without her! Can you not understand what is said to you? Very well, I will spell it out for you. I am taking the Princess with me whether you like it or not. Is that clear?'
'So much so', snarled Benielli, his slender patience at an end, 'that short of having you arrested for kidnapping and incitement to revolt there is only one answer—' He drew his sword.
Instantly, Marianne sprang to her feet and flung herself in between the two men who were measuring one another dangerously.
'Gentlemen, I beg of you! I suppose you'll allow me a say in the matter, at least? Lieutenant Benielli, be good enough to leave the room for a moment. There is something I wish to say to Mr Beaufort in private.'
Contrary to her expectations, the officer acquiesced without a word. He clicked his heels and gave a curt little bow.
'Come along then,' Jolival said amiably, leading the way to the door. 'We'll go and try some of Signor Dal Niel's grappa to pass the time. There's nothing like a glass before a journey. A kind of stirrup cup, you know.'
Left alone again, Marianne and Jason stood and looked at one another with some amazement: she on account of the hard, stubborn line which had settled disquietingly between her beloved's black brows; he because, for the second time, he had encountered resistance from that soft and graceful creature with her deceptive air of fragility. He sensed that all was not well with her and in the hope of finding out what it was, he made an effort to overcome his bad temper.
'Why did you want to speak to me alone, Marianne?' he asked quietly. 'Are you hoping to persuade me to undertake this ridiculous voyage to Turkey? Well, don't. I haven't come all this way to indulge Napoleon's whims again.'
'You came to find me, didn't you… so that we could begin a new life together? Then, what does it matter where we live it? Why won't you take me, if I want to go and it could be so very important to the Empire? I shan't stay long and afterwards I shall be free to go wherever you like…'
'Free? Do you mean that? Have you finally broken completely with your husband? Have you persuaded him to a divorce?'
'No, but I am still free because the Emperor says so. He has made this mission he has given me a condition of his help and I know that once I have performed it, nothing and no one will stand in the way of our happiness. It is the Emperor's wish.'
'The Emperor! The Emperor! Always the Emperor! You still talk about him as besottedly as when you were his mistress! Have you forgotten that I've rather less reason to love him? You may cherish an understandable nostalgia for the imperial bedchamber and for the life of princes and palaces. My own memories of La Force, and Bicêtre and the bagne at Brest are by far less alluring, I assure you.'
'You are unjust! You know there is nothing between me and the Emperor, and has not been for a long time, and that he really did his best to save you without upsetting a delicate diplomatic situation.'
'So I recall but I am not aware that I stand
in Napoleon's debt in any way. I belong to a neutral country and I have no intention of becoming any further involved in his policies. It is enough that my country should be risking her peace abroad by refusing to take sides with England.' He took hold of her suddenly, cradling her close and laying his cheek against her forehead with a desperate tenderness.
'Marianne! Oh, Marianne! Forget all that… everything but us two! Forget Napoleon, forget that somewhere in this world there is a man whose name you bear, forget, as I have forgotten, that Pilar is still living somewhere, hidden in some remote corner of Spain, believing me still in prison and hoping I'll die there. There is only the two of us, nothing else… us two and the sea, there, right at our feet. If you will, it can carry us away tomorrow to my home. I'll take you to Carolina. I'll rebuild my parents' old house at Old Creek Town that was burned down. As far as anyone knows, you will be my wife…'
Carried away by the touch and the scent of the slender form pressed close to his, he was enveloping her again in his disturbing caresses and this time Marianne was too weak and too much enslaved to fight against it. She recalled those dizzying hours in the prison. It could all happen again so easily. Jason was hers, wholly and completely, flesh of her flesh, the man she had chosen from all others, whom no one could replace. Why, then, should she refuse the thing he offered? Why not so with him, tomorrow, to his land of liberty? After all, he might not know it but her husband was dead: she was free.
In an hour she could be aboard the Witch. She could easily tell Benielli she was going to Turkey, when all the time the ship was really sailing to freedom in America, and she, Marianne, would be lying for the first time all night long in Jason's arms, rocked on the waves, and drawing a final curtain over her past life. She could take up her own life again from where it had left off at Selton Hall, at the moment when Jason had first begged her to go with him, and in a little while she would forget all the rest: the fear, the flights, Fouché, Talleyrand, Napoleon, France and the villa of the fountains where the white peacocks roamed but where no ghostly rider in a white mask would wake the echoes any more.
But once again, as it had done earlier, her conscience awoke, a conscience which was becoming a great deal more inconvenient than she would ever have thought possible. What would happen if, during the long journey to America, she were to find herself pregnant by another man? How would she be able to deal with the situation there, in a land where she would never be out of Jason's sight for a moment, for she refused categorically to deceive him? Assuming, of course, that he did not begin to suspect anything in the course of a voyage at least twice as long as that to Constantinople!
Besides, at the back of her mind she seemed to hear Arrighi's grave voice saying: 'Only you can persuade the Sultana to keep up the war with Russia, only you can calm her anger against the Emperor, because you, like her, are Josephine's cousin. She will listen to you…'
Could she really betray the trust of the man she had once loved and who had sincerely tried to make her happy? Napoleon was relying on her. Could she deny him this one last service which was so important to him and to France? The time for love was not yet. It was still the time to be brave.
Gently, but firmly, she pushed Jason away.
'No,' she said. 'I can't. I must go. I have given my word.' He stared at her incredulously, as though she had suddenly changed before his eyes into a different creature. His dark blue eyes seemed to withdraw more deeply beneath the black brows and Marianne's heart was wrung as she read the vast disappointment in them.
'You mean – you won't come with me?'
'No, my love, it's not that I won't come. All I am asking is for you to come with me for a little while, only a few weeks. A little delay, that's all. Afterwards, I shall be all yours, heart and soul. I'll go wherever you like, to the ends of the earth if I must, and I'll live exactly as you please. But I must carry out my mission. It is too important to France.'
'France!' he said bitterly. 'That's a good one! As though France, for you, didn't mean Napoleon.'
Pained as she sensed the underlying jealousy which still persisted, Marianne gave a little, hopeless sigh and her green eyes dimmed with tears.
'Why won't you understand me, Jason? Whether you like it or not, I love my country. I have scarcely begun to know it yet and the discovery is precious to me. It is a beautiful country, Jason, noble and great! And yet I shall leave it and without regrets or heartburnings, when the time comes to go with you.'
'But that time is not yet?'
'Yes… perhaps, if you will agree to take me to meet this queer Sultana who was born so near to your own land.'
'And you say you love me?' he said.
'I love you more than anything in the world because for me you are the world, and not only that but life and joy and happiness. It's because I love you that I won't steal away like a thief. I want to stay worthy of you.'
'Words, words!' Jason shrugged furiously. The truth is that you can't bring yourself to give up, all at once, all the glittering life that was yours as someone close to Napoleon! You're young, rich, beautiful – and a Serene Highness – of all the God-damned stupid, pompous titles! And now they've sent you on an embassy to a queen! What can I offer to match that? A fairly humble existence, and not altogether respectable at that, so long as neither of us are free of our matrimonial ties. I can understand your hesitating.'
Marianne regarded him sadly.
'You're so unfair! Have you forgotten that if it hadn't been for Vidocq I would have given all that up without a moment's thought? And believe me, this voyage isn't an excuse or anything, it's a necessity. Why won't you?'
'Because it's Napoleon who sends you. Do you understand? Because I owe him nothing but humiliation, imprisonment and torture! Oh, I know, he gave me a guardian angel but if the guards had bludgeoned me to death or I'd died of my wounds, do you think he would have grieved overmuch? He'd have expressed polite regret, and then turned to something else. No, Marianne, I have no cause to serve your Emperor. Indeed, if I agreed, I should feel a fool. As for you, you may as well know that if you lack the courage to say no now, once and for all, to all that has been your life up to this moment, you'll not find it tomorrow. When this mission is accomplished, you'll find another – or another will be found for you. I'm not denying a woman like you is a valuable asset.'
'No, I swear it! I'll go away at once!'
'How can I believe you? Back in Brittany, you asked nothing better than to flee this man, yet now you want to serve him at all costs! Are you even the same woman? The one I left would have committed any madness for my sake. This one is hidebound by respectability and won't kiss me for fear of the chambermaid's coming in! I can't help noticing it, you know.'
'What are you after? I swear to you I love you and only you, but you must take me to Turkey.'
'No.'
Uttered without anger, the word was none the less final.
'You refuse?' Marianne said dully.
'Precisely. Or rather, no. I give you the choice. I'll take you, but after that I shall sail alone for my own country.'
Marianne recoiled as though he had struck her, knocking over a small table and smashing a fragile piece of Murano glass. She sank on to the sofa where she had lain so short a while ago – a century, it seemed! She stared at Jason wide-eyed, as though seeing him for the first time. He had never looked so tall, so handsome – or so inflexible. She had believed his love was like her own, equal to anything, ready to suffer and endure anything for the sake of a few hours happiness, and how much more so for a lifetime of love. Yet now he could find it in his heart to offer her this ruthless choice.
'You could leave me – of your own will?' she asked incredulously. 'Leave me there and go away without me?'
He folded his arms across his chest and regarded her without anger but with a terrifying firmness.
'The choice is not mine, Marianne. It is yours. I want to know who is boarding the Witch tomorrow: the Princess Sant'Anna, official ambassadress of his Majes
ty the Emperor and King – or Marianne Beaufort.'
The sound of that name, coming so unexpectedly, when it had figured for so long in her dreams, cut her to the quick. She closed her eyes, her face as white as her dress. Her fingers curled and the nails dug into the silk upholstery, fighting off incipient panic.
'You're so hard…' she moaned.
'No. I only want to make you happy, in spite of yourself, if need be.'
Marianne gave a sad little flicker of a smile. The egotism of men! She could see it even in this man she adored, just as she had seen it in Francis, Fouché, Talleyrand, Napoleon, and even in the monster Damiani. All of them had this curious urge to make decisions about the happiness of the women in their lives, convinced that in this, as in so much else, they alone possessed the key to real wisdom and truth. They had both suffered so much from all that had come between them. Were the obstacles now going to come from Jason himself? Couldn't he subdue his overbearing pride for the sake of his love?
Once again there came the temptation, so powerful as to be almost irresistible, the temptation to give in, to cast herself into his arms and allow herself to be carried away, without further thought. She needed him so much, his strength and his man's warmth. Despite the mildness of the evening, she felt chilled to the heart. Yet, perhaps just because she had suffered so much to win this love, her pride restrained her on the very verge of yielding.
The worst of it was that she could not really blame him. From his man's point of view, he was right. But neither could she retract, or not without telling him the whole. And even then? Jason's feelings towards Napoleon had grown so very bitter!
Miserably unhappy, Marianne chose, none the less, the course that came most naturally: to fight.
She put up her head and met her lover's gaze squarely.
'I have given my word,' she said. 'It is my duty to go. If I abandoned my mission now, you might still love me as much – but you would have less respect for me. In my world, and in yours too, I think, we have always placed duty before happiness. My parents died for that belief. I will not disgrace it.'
[Marianne 4] - Marianne and the Rebels Page 15