The wanton princess rb-8

by Dennis Wheatley

  Immediately she had been freed from Madame Campan's tutelage she had badgered her brother to let her marry Murat. Bonaparte had demurred because by then he had good cause to dislike and distrust his brilliant cavalry leader.

  Murat preferred to hobnob with junior officers because to them he could boast of his exploits without fear of contradic­tion and not long since he had given a party for a number of them. At this party he had introduced a special Punch which, he said, could only be made with Rum from Martinique. He added that he had been shown how to mix it by a charming lady in whose company he had spent the whole day. Then he produced a new type of silver lemon squeezer which, he said, she had given him. On examining the squeezer one of his guests announced to the raucous laughter of the by then drunken company that on its base were engraved the initials J.B. This, and the connections with Martinique, plainly implied that it was the First Consul's wife with whom Murat had spent a whole day, and that he had enjoyed Josephine's favours.

  Such was Caroline's doggedness of purpose that she had bullied Napoleon into letting her marry Murat; but when the story of the drinking party came to his ears, he had, after Marengo, sent Murat off to subdue southern Italy, and Caroline did not disguise from Roger her intense bitterness that Napoleon should have deprived her of her husband for so long.

  Roger also called upon Pauline Leclerc. He knew that as a young girl, when Bonaparte was no more than a promising junior General who had never conducted a campaign, she had fallen desperately in love with the ex-Terrorist Freron, and that Napoleon had firmly vetoed her marrying this un­savoury character, then old enough to be her father. His selection a little later of Leclerc for her as a husband had been due to the fact that Leclerc was outstanding among his officers as a gentleman, well educated and would prove an asset to the Bonaparte family. Pauline, who was extremely highly sexed. and by then eager to be allowed to get into bed with any good-looking man, had been attracted by Leclerc and readily agreed to accept him as her husband.

  The marriage had been a great success, but not to the extent that Pauline was content to remain sighing for Leclerc when he had been sent off to the Army of the Rhine. Since then, rumour had it she had indulged in a triple affaire with the Generals Moreau, Macdonald and Beurnonville simul­taneously when they had been in Paris at the same time. She had early become conscious of her great beauty and her power to attract men. So now her greatest pleasure was to adorn herself in magnificent toilettes—the bills for which were nearly ruining the unfortunate Leclerc—and, reclining elegantly on a sofa, excite the admiration and desire of her male visitors.

  The only other thing with which she concerned herself was her intense hatred of Josephine. The First Consul's wife had the advantage of her that, although she had never been presented at Court, she had been brought up as a demoiselle of the ancien regime. Her taste in clothes and decor was impeccable, she received her husband's guests with charm and dignity and she was now his greatest asset in helping him to bridge the gap between the societies of the old France and that which had arisen as a result of the Revolution. Pauline, on the other hand, was a vulgar little parvenue; but that did not detract from her beauty.

  And there was another thing which attracted Roger to her. Greedy though she might be to get all she could out of Napoleon, she was the only one of his family who respected and loved him. He had always been her favourite brother and she placed his interests above all else.

  With her Roger considerably outstayed the accepted formal call of twenty minutes. Reclining on a couch, clad in rich but revealing draperies, she was a sight to stir any man's desire, and she made no secret of the fact that she was enjoying Roger's undisguised admiration. When he at length rose to make his devoirs, she fluttered her long eyelashes at him provocatively and said, 'I find you most sympathetic, Colonel Breuc; I pray you come to see me soon again.'

  But Roger was not destined to see her again for a long time to come. During the past few days he had been giving much thought to his future. On one matter he was fully deter­mined—he was not going with the expedition to India. To avoid doing so he intended to pretend a relapse. It would be accepted without question that, with his normally weak chest and a lung wound scarcely healed, he had acted most rashly in leaving the South of France in mid-winter for the cold and windy streets of Paris.

  What then, though? He had not the least desire to return to St. Maxime. His affaire with little Jeanne had been a pleasant interlude but her kisses had already begun to cloy before he left. If resumed it would soon become most wearisome to him; yet, if he went back there and broke it off, she would be terribly hurt. Besides, he had vegetated for more than long enough. Returning to Paris had brought home to him how greatly, if subconsciously, he had missed being au courant with events, privy to secret matters of importance, and the companionship of men and women of his world.

  It then occurred to him that had he still been in the service of Mr. Pitt he would be about to feign a relapse, not to escape going with the expedition to India but in order to get away to England and inform him of it. Thinking matters over, he quickly came to the conclusion that no longer being a secret agent did not relieve him of his obligations to his own country. He might live and make his career in France, but that did not mean that he could stand by and watch a serious blow struck at England if he had the power to prevent it. And this threat to her rich possessions in India could develop into a very serious blow.

  Having sent his excuses to Berthier, he retired to bed at La Belle Etoile and remained there for two days. He then wrote to the First Consul reporting that he had sadly overestimated the extent to which he had recovered from his wound and, greatly as he regretted it, there could be no question of his going to India. Instead, the state of his lung required that he leave the cold, damp capital and spend a further period in the sunshine of the south.

  His good friend Duroc brought him in person Bonaparte's permission to go again on indefinite leave, condoled with him, sat beside his bed for a while and, much distressed, left him under the impression that his cough was so bad that it might lead to a consumption.

  Duroc had not been gone long when it struck Roger that if he took the diligence next day. he might, provided that he was not held up by bad weather in the Channel, be in England for Christmas. Accordingly he sent out to book a seat, with a message that he would be joining the diligence outside Paris. Then, after darkness had fallen that afternoon he drove in a hired carriage to the first posting stage on the road to Calais and put up at the inn there for the night.

  He was sorry to leave Paris, as he had greatly enjoyed the week he had spent there before taking to his bed, and he thought the change the city had undergone in the past fourteen months more than ever marvellous. Cleanliness, cheerfulness and observance of the law were now the order of the day. Many streets were being widened and fine new buildings put up. Factories that had lain idle for years were now working again at full capacity. Trade was booming. The new styles in furniture created to make the sacked Tuileries again habitable, and Bonaparte's official receptions there, had created a great demand for luxury goods. The silk spinners at Lyons, the porcelain factory at Sevres, cabinet makers, goldsmiths and jewellers, such as Jacobs. Biennais and Bohemer, who for long had been hard put to it to keep going were doing an enormous business: while the salons of the best model's and dress-designers, above all that of Leroy, the veritable King of haute-couture, were making great for­tunes for their owners. For France it had been a stupendous year and everyone knew it to be entirely due to the genius of the little Corsican.

  When Roger reached Calais he went to a small inn on the outskirts of the town and there made contact with a smuggler who had put him over on two previous occasions. He was lucky, as a cargo was being run that night, and the following day, having been landed below St. Margarets-at-Cliff, he was in Dover. From there, instead of taking the coach to London, he hired a post chaise which took him and his baggage direct to Stillwaters. arriving there on the afternoon of Chr
istmas Eve. In the past Georgina had always had big house parties there over Christmas and, knowing how fond she was of the place, Roger thought it probable that, whether she had car­ried out her intention of becoming Mrs. Beefy or not, she would be in residence.

  On enquiring at the porter's lodge he learned that the gamble he had taken had come off; also that Georgina had married in the Spring and now had nearly a score of guests staying in the house. Greatly curious to find out what sort of a man Beefy was, Roger proceeded on up the drive. He wondered, too. about Georgina's guests, as he could not imagine her cheerfully entertaining a number of merchants and their dull wives, yet doubted if her old friends would have accepted a sugar snipper into their circle.

  On the latter question his curiosity was satisfied sooner than he expected. Half way up the drive he came upon a fine-looking man dressed in rich furs who was taking a brisk walk. Although it was a long time since they had met they recognized one another at first glance. The sable-clad gentleman was Count Simon Vorontzoff. the Russian Ambassador. At a time when Roger had been living with Georgina she had been temporarily attracted by the Russian and this had led to the two men each playing a scurvy trick on the other; but later they had buried the hatchet, so bore one another no ill will.

  Having ordered his driver to pull up. Rnircr exchanged courteous greetings with Georgina's old admirer, then asked, 'How is our beautiful Mrs. Beefy?'

  'As gay and delightful as ever, I am happy to say.' replied the Russian. 'Bin, my dear Mr. Brook, you will find no place in her good graces should you call her that. Married again though she is, she made it plain to all that she intended to continue to be known as the Countess of St. Ermins.'

  Roger laughed. 'How like her. Has she then succeeded in maintaining her position in society and establishing her sugar merchant husband in it?'

  'She has handled a difficult situation with great skill,' the Ambassador said with a smile. 'Had she been a man, her strong personality and tact, coupled with her great wealth, would have made her a most successful diplomat. She is, of course, no longer received at Court but she has retained the friendship of the haut monde by refraining from attempting to foist Mr. Beefy upon it. For brief periods she still occupies her house in Berkeley Square and entertains there lavishly, but she never takes her husband to London with her. While here, at Stillwaters, she has to stay only her older friends who, out of affection for her, had no objection to making his acquaintance.'

  'And what sort of a man is he?' Roger enquired.

  'A very pleasant fellow. Naturally he lacks the advantages bestowed by birth, but he has a simple goodness of heart that I find attractive and he carries out his duties as host very adequately. I feel sure you will like him.'

  For Georgina's sake Roger had every intention of making himself pleasant to her husband: and. an hour later, after being received by her and her' father with surprise and delight, when Mr. Beefy returned to the house from selecting the Yule Log, he gave Roger a hearty welcome.

  John Beefy was in his early forties: a tall, broad, fresh complexioned man with pleasant brown eyes in an open countenance. He escorted Roger to a bedroom at the top of the house, apologized that he could not give him a better one as the more spacious were already occupied, said that he had heard a great deal about him from Georgina, and expressed the hope that his stay with them would be a long one.

  Roger's only disappointment was with regard to the children. At their age a year was such a great stretch of time that they hardly recognized him and looked quite startled when he swept them up, one in each arm, and kissed them both heartily. As he set them down they both ran to John Beefy for protection, scrambled on to his knees and buried their small faces in his broad chest.

  Glad as Roger was to see that Georgina's husband loved and was loved by them, he could not help feeling a slight twinge of jealousy; although he felt none when Georgina entered the room at that moment, joined the group and gave all three of them a fond kiss. The life-long bond between her and Roger had long since rendered him impervious to any affection she might display for other men.

  Most of the other guests were people Roger had met and liked in the past. As he had no reason to conceal the fact that he had just come from France, he was able to entertain the company with accounts of the strange new society that now frequented the Tuileries. and the Christmas Eve dinner was a gay one.

  Later that evening he managed to get Georgina to himself for a few minutes. Having congratulated her on the success of her marriage and her skilful handling of the social side of it, and knowing she would not resent such a question from him, he asked:

  'And how does the good John please you as a lover?’

  She returned his smile, 'I have known several more accom­plished, but I have no reason to complain about his virility and he is always most considerate.' Then in a whisper behind her fan she added. "While here, with the house so full, we must be circumspect, but in January I'll come to London for some weeks. While there I’ll let you nibble my ears again as oft as you may wish'

  On Christmas morning Roger produced for Georgina a petit point reticule by Duvalroy and for the children a number of toys that he had had Maitre Blanchard buy for him on his last day in Paris. The novelty of the playthings brought from France entranced the children and soon led to his regaining their affection. Later he enjoyed entering into all the old games and having again a real English Christmas dinner; turkey with all the trimmings, big dishes of mince pies and a huge plum pudding into which had been inserted a handful of guineas and a variety of lucky charms.

  Boxing Day was traditionally the servants' feast. They all received their presents and. after a bumper dinner at which the guests served the food, assembled with them in the ball-room to dance. Georgina led off with her steward and John Beefy partnered the portly housekeeper. Roger danced with several of the prettier maids and took them out to be kissed under the mistletoe. Then, a little fatigued, he made his way to the small library to rest for a while.

  There he found Count Vorontzoff studying a map of Europe that he had spread out on a table. When Roger joined him he said, 'I fear this recent victory of General Moreau's may have a serious effect on the attitude of Austria. According to the latest reports I have received he is now no more than sixty miles from Vienna.'

  Roger nodded. 'Things have certainly gone badly for our allies. It would not surprise me if, as they did before, they agreed to make a separate peace.'

  'It is that I fear; and the more so as I have reason to believe my master, the Czar, intends to enter the war against them.'

  Raising his eyebrows, Roger exclaimed, 'Should Your Excellency prove right that would be little short of calami­tous. I was, of course, aware that there had been a rapproche­ment between His Imperial Majesty and the First Consul, but had no idea that it was likely to develop into an active alliance.'

  'I can hardly doubt now that it will,' Vorontzoff said with a worried frown. 'As the Emperor Paul's representative at the Court of St. James, I should be the last to speak ill of him, but there are certain facts that cannot be ignored. He is of a most unstable mind and dangerously susceptible to flattery. The First Consul, ably abetted by Monsieur de Tal­leyrand, has played upon that weakness with great skill. The state of things in France has changed during this past year to such a marked degree that my master is now persuaded that he and his fellow Monarchs no longer have cause to fear the spread of the dangerous doctrines of the Revolution. He has become convinced that, under the First Consul, the French people have been restored to sanity, and that the war of Britain and Austria against them is no longer justified.'

  'May I ask Your Excellency's own opinion?'

  'It is that Bonaparte is not to be trusted, and that having upset the balance of power in Europe by making himself the master of Belgium, Holland. Switzerland, a considerable part of Germany and all Italy, he will remain a great danger to us all until that balance is restored.'

  'If Austria collapses and Russia comes in against us, it
certainly will not be for many a long year to come.'

  'I agree: and with England left alone in arms against such a combination, how long can she survive?'

  Greatly as Roger had been in favour of a general peace when Bonaparte had made his offer, since then the Corsican's resources had increased enormously and he had often said that nothing would give him greater joy than to crush the stiff-necked English. With Russia as his ally, secured from Austria attacking him in the rear, he might well be tempted to carry out his dream of invading Britain. Regarding the Ambassador gravely, Roger said:

  'Your Excellency is right, that with nothing to fear on the Continent. Bonaparte might yet prove a terrible menace to this country. I have always been given to understand that you are a good friend to us: so may I assume you are doing all you can to restrain His Imperial Majesty?'

  'Can you doubt it, Mr. Brook? Many of your countrymen

  ' The Russian paused, then added with a slight smile, 'and women, are dear to me. Having been en poste here for so many years 1 look on England as something more than a second home. To have to ask for my passports would distress me greatly. So on this question my personal interests coincide with what I believe to be best for my country. But at a distance of eighteen hundred miles it is far from easy to reason with anyone—let alone a madman.'