The wanton princess rb-8

by Dennis Wheatley

  'No, I mean to do no more than lash her with my tongue for her infidelity to mc.’

  Aimee shook her head, 'She has deserved that, and to my mind has made herself a poor bargain. I suppose it means a lot to her to be called "Your Highness," but I wouldn't let her weakling of a Prince share my bed, however much he offered me. Come then, mon Colonel, I'll take you to her; but point your dagger at my back as we go into her room.'

  She led him up the broad pillared staircase, across a lofty landing and into a blue and gold boudoir. Pauline was sitting at the far end clothed in filmy draperies. The only light in the room came from a wall bracket holding candles beneath which she was sitting reading.

  Turning her head she asked, 'What is it, Aimee?" Then in the dim light she recognized Roger, dropped her book and came to her feet.

  At the same moment Roger flashed his knife, so that Pauline caught the glint of steel, and snapped at Aimee, 'You may leave us now. Should you rouse the house I'll seek you out, and I've told you what will happen to you.'

  Aimee backed away and swiftly closed the door behind her. Most women in Pauline's situation would have been seized with fear that Roger, having forced his way in, intended to inflict a bloody vengeance on them. But a smile suddenly dawned on her lovely face and she cried, 'Oh, Roje, what a joy it is to sec you."

  Taken aback by her greeting, he put up his dagger, frowned and replied, 'I am surprised to hear you say so, after your treatment of me.'

  She shrugged, 'You mean my marriage. But you aban­doned me; so you cannot blame me for that.'

  'Abandoned you! Nom d'un nom! I've served two months in prison and was ready to serve two more, so that we might be permanently reunited in November. And what do I find? In August, before even your twelve months of mourning were up, you have married another.'

  ‘I heard only that you had left Paris, and that without a word to me. I assure you that for some weeks I was utterly disconsolate.'

  'Did you not get my letter?'

  'No; to whom did you give it?'

  'To my landlord at La Belle Etoile, for Aimee. I wrote to let you know that Napoleon had as good as promised me your hand, but decreed that I must spend the time of waiting experiencing what the troops go through; so that when I had married you I should be fitted for a post as Governor-General.'

  She shrugged. 'I never received your letter. And you must be aware of the duplicity of which Napoleon is capable at times. Clearly he never intended us to marry and adopted these means of getting rid of you. It seems, too, that he had you watched and, somehow, intercepted your letter to me.'

  Roger could not believe that cither Maitre Blanchard or Aimee had betrayed him; but the landlord was a busy man, so it was possible that he had given the note to a potman to hand to Aimee and that, before Aimee had come to the inn, some police spy had bought it from the potman.

  'Whether or not you received my note,' he cried angrily, 'you could have gone to your brother, enquired my where­abouts and communicated with me.'

  Pauline stamped her foot, ‘Roje, you are unjust. You left me stranded and with the impression that you had run away because you were too frightened of Napoleon to ask him for my hand. I am not made to live like a nun and Borghese pressed his suit with all the ardour of an Italian.'

  'So you fell in love with him?'

  'No, oh no! It was the emeralds he offered me. They are the finest in Europe. I must show them to you. I simply could not resist them. But that bitch Josephine! Would you believe it, she had the walls of a room specially repainted turquoise in which to receive me on the first occasion that she knew I would wear them on going to Court. The colour killed that of the stones utterly. I was so furious that I could have scratched her eyes out.'

  Roger sighed. What was he to do with this magnificently-beautiful but utterly inconsequent creature? After a moment he asked, 'And Borghese. What sort of a husband does he make?'

  'Oh, terrible! I've been an utter fool. I don't think he is attracted by men, but he is practically a neuter. I am as starved of love as when we first met in Bordeaux.'

  Suddenly she advanced on Roger and threw her arms round his neck. As he felt her warm, thinly clad body pressed against his own he was conscious of a swift upsurge of passion and clasped her to him.

  With a low laugh she murmured in his car, 'Borghese will not be back for hours yet; and when he does return it is certain that he'll go straight to his own room. Oh Roj6, how good it is to feel your strong arms about me again. I want you. Roje. I want you desperately.'

  Two minutes later he was in her bedroom with the door locked behind them.

  In the early hours of the morning Aimec smuggled him downstairs and out into the street through a door in the gar­den wall that led into the Champs Elysees.

  That day Roger lay long abed contemplating his position with very mixed feelings. All prospect of marrying Pauline was now gone, and with it that of some well-endowed post as a member of the Bonaparte family. On consideration he decided that the latter was more to be regretted than the former. He had never been afraid of work or of taking responsibility, so he would have enjoyed using his’ talents as the Viceroy of some French-dominated territory; whereas Pauline's light-mindedness and instability of character might have caused him many irritations if he had married her; and she was now, once again, his mistress.

  It was as clear as crystal that she had married the Roman Prince only for his title, his family jewels and because he was so rich she could indulge to her heart's content in every kind of extravagance.

  She had told Roger that, on the rare occasions Borghese did come to her, it was always before midnight; so at that hour Aimee could safely let Roger in by the door in the garden wall and bring him to her. If at any time there was a risk of his being caught in her room, he could go out on to the balcony and clamber down into the garden. With his happy memories of their tour through Navarre and Provence, and stay at St. Maxime, this opened a prospect that half the men in France would have envied him. But there was another side to his return to Paris which was far from being so satisfactory.

  Napoleon had evidently never had the least intention of letting him marry Pauline and, instead of saying so frankly, had used his guile both to break up the affaire and to prevent it from developing into a scandal. No doubt his ambition had been gratified by his sister marrying a millionaire Prince and he had derived considerable amusement at having rid himself of his troublesome A.D.C. in a way that should teach him not to be presumptuous. But what was he going to say when he learned not only that Roger had returned to Paris but had also, as his police would soon find out, again become Pauline's lover? Added to which there was the most unpleasant fact that by this time Davoust would have had 'Lieutenant' Breuc posted as absent without leave.

  After much thought, Roger dressed in civilian clothes, called a sedan chair and had himself carried round to the Rue du Bec. Having waited for well over an hour in an ante­room, he was received by Talleyrand. Gracious as ever, the Minister rose from his big desk, extended a perfectly mani­cured hand and said:

  'Cher ami, you must forgive me for keeping you waiting but, try as I will, I simply cannot avoid sometimes having to attend to affairs of State. Where have you been all this time, and why are you not wearing your beautiful uniform?'

  Sitting down in a gilt Louis Quinze elbow chair, Roger crossed his long legs, gave a rueful smile and replied, 'The First Consul decided that I should be taught the rudiments of soldiering, so sent me to Davoust's school for young officers at Bruges.'

  Talleyrand raised his eyebrows, 'So that is where you were. Not a very pleasant experience, I imagine. But I did hear a rumour that he had sent you out of Paris because he was annoyed by your attentions to a certain lady.'

  Roger grinned, 'So you know about that. I might have guessed it.'

  'The lady happens to be one of a dozen or so about whose—er—activities I find it useful to keep myself informed. Her marriage must, I fear, have been something of a blow to you. But she w
as so set on it that she refused even to wait until her period of mourning was over; and Napoleon, fancying himself as the brother-in-law of a Prince, was persuaded to give way to her.'

  'Well, it is a fait accompli; and on account of it I've landed myself in a fine mess. When I learned of her marriage I was so infuriated that I took horse and rode straight to Paris; so I am a deserter or, at least, absent without leave.'

  'The devil you are! That is no laughing matter. What stupid things we do on account of women. Really there are times when I feel it would be wiser to become a Trappist monk and be done with them for good. But I simply could not live without these silly creatures.'

  'Nor I,' Roger agreed. 'Of course, what I ought to have done was to write to Napoleon and say that now the cause for his sending me out of Paris was removed, would he give me leave to return here? As things are, when he is informed by that awful man Davoust that I've deserted he will be furious.'

  'You must sec him and endeavour to put yourself right with him before he hears from Davoust.'

  'I should have done so yesterday but I missed my chance. As he charged Davoust in a personal letter to put me through the mill, I count it certain that by this morning a despatch from the General reporting my disappearance will have reached him. If I present myself, the odds are that his Cap­tain of the Guard already has an order to arrest me and send me back to Bruges.'

  'That would mean a court martial and your complete ruin. Your only chance is somehow to persuade Napoleon to sec you, complain of his harsh treatment of you, declare that he has punished you enough, and plead your past services to induce him to call off Davoust.'

  'I entirely agree. And that is why I am here. Would it be asking too much that you should speak to him on my behalf and induce him to give me a hearing?'

  Talleyrand considered for a moment, 'Out of friendship alone I will do that; and in any case I consider you too valuable a man to be deprived for good of a place near him, if that can be prevented. I think, too, that you had best send for some things and remain here for the night. If Davoust's courier has arrived in Paris this morning, an order for your arrest may already have been issued. If so, the odds are that the Provost Marshal will go straight to La Belle Etoile as the first place to look for you. I will take you with me to the Tuileries tomorrow. But, should Napoleon consent to see you, I would not count on his restoring you to his good graces. Desertion is a crime that you may be sure he will not look upon leniently.'

  Roger made a grimace, 'I know it; but if I can see him at least I will have some chance of mitigating his anger.' He then thanked his friend most gratefully for the help he had promised to give him and, a few minutes later, Talleyrand sent for his steward to tell him that Roger would be staying there that night.

  That evening the Foreign Minister had first to attend a reception then a ball; so Roger dined alone and spent the time browsing through some of the beautifully-bound books in the library. Next morning there was a breakfast for eight at which many of the topics of the day were eagerly debated; but Roger's mind was so taken up with wondering whether he would be free or a prisoner by dinner time that, though he smiled automatically at the witticisms uttered by the others, he hardly took in what they were talking about

  At midday he accompanied Talleyrand in his coach to the Tuileries. In Napoleon's antechamber there was the usual crowd of Ministers, Generals and functionaries waiting to be received in audience. Several of them smiled at Roger and asked him where he had been. Anxious to avoid being drawn into conversation, he only returned their bows and replied that he had just come back from the coast.

  The twenty-minute wait seemed to him interminable; but at last an usher, with a list in his hand, called out Talleyrand's name. Roger had expected the Minister to go in and plead his cause while he went through another ten minutes or more of agonizing suspense. But Talleyrand transferred his cane to his other hand, smiled at him and said, 'Mon cher Colonel, be kind enough to give me your arm.' And next minute they were walking towards the great double doors.

  Instantly Roger realized how skilfully the great diplomat was handling this difficult situation. If Napoleon was in one of his black moods the very mention of Roger's name might result in a peremptory refusal to see him, and lead to an order for his immediate arrest; but he was not going to be given a chance to refuse. For at least a moment Roger would be face to face with him—but, possibly, only for a moment.

  The big doors were thrown open. There fell a sudden silence in the ante-room. In a loud voice the usher announced, 'Monsieur de Talleyrand-Perigord, Minister of State for Foreign Affairs,' then his mouth opened again to call out Roger's name; but with a swift, imperious gesture Talleyrand motioned him to silence.

  Napoleon was standing with his hands clasped behind his back looking out of a window. The doors closed with a gentle swish. In his beautifully-modulated voice, Talleyrand said:

  'First Consul, I am fortunate this morning. I bring you an old friend of ours whom I chanced to see outside the Palace on the bank of the Seine. He told me that he was in such despair that he intended to throw himself into the river. Knowing that his loss would grieve you deeply I insisted that he should give you the opportunity of restoring his faith in humanity.'

  At Talleyrand's first words Napoleon had swung round. He stared at Roger for a moment then opened his mouth to speak, but before he could do so the Minister added smoothly, 'Colonel Breuc has refused to confide his troubles to me, so it would embarrass him if I remained. My business can wait until you have comforted him.' He already had a hand behind him on the door knob. Giving it a twist and a quick push, he bowed himself backwards out of the room.

  It was a brilliant demarche and Roger took swift advan­tage of it. Looking angrily at Napoleon he asked in a bitter voice, 'Seeing the way you have treated me since last we met, can you be surprised that I was about to take my life?'

  'Psst!' Napoleon made an angry gesture. 'What nonsense! Surely you did not expect that I meant to give you my sister?'

  'You led me to suppose so. Then having got rid of me, pushed her into marrying this Italian Prince. What a way to behave!'

  'I did nothing of the sort! I even tried to dissuade her from marrying him until the end of the year. But she forced me to give my consent by telling me that the ardour of this Italian had led to her letting him get her with child.'

  Roger suppressed a gasp; for if Pauline had been in the family way it must have been he who was responsible. But she had made no mention of that, so had evidently since got herself out of that trouble. After a moment he said:

  'Nevertheless you gave your consent to her marriage, and so spoiled for good our chances of happiness. And you prepared the way most skilfully, leading her to believe that I had deserted her by stealing the letter I wrote her after I last saw you.'

  'Letter! What letter! I have more important things to do than steal other people's billets doux!'

  'Your police intercepted it. They must have, as it never reached her. You'll not deny that you set them to spy on me and make certain I left Paris.'

  'Of course. I gave orders that in no circumstances were you to be allowed to enter the Hotel de Charost. Had you openly appeared there to take leave of Pauline it would have been certain to end in a lovers' parting that would have set the servants' tongues wagging. You might even have declared yourself her fiance. I should have been mad not to take pre­cautions against your doing something of the kind.'

  'I might have. I loved her desperately, and had the right to. But out of respect for you, I refrained. And what was my reward for behaving honourably towards you? You had me reduced to the rank of Lieutenant and put through a more brutal course of training than is inflicted on any raw, rebel­lious conscript.'

  Napoleon gave a short, harsh laugh, 'That was no more than you deserved for holding your head too high. And it is still too high! I'll not have you attempt to browbeat me in tin's fashion. Such leave as General Davoust gave you is cancelled from this minute. You will return to Bruge
s immediately.'

  'Have you not then received a despatch from the General this morning?' Roger asked with a pale smile.

  'No. Why should I have? What had he urgent to com­municate to me?'

  'Only that I never asked for leave, but had simply taken it.'

  'What!' Napoleon's eyes grew black with anger. 'D'you mean you actually dared to leave Bruges without permis­sion?'

  Roger's dark blue eyes blazed back into those of his master, 'Dare!' he cried. 'Surely you know mc well enough to realize that having risked my life for you a dozen times I'd not hesitate to dare anything on my own account? On learning of Pauline's marriage I took horse at once for Paris. And how can you blame me? Since you'd gained your end and married her off to this Italian, how could it longer serve you to keep me in slavery at Bruges? Naturally, I returned expecting you to reinstate me; but this morning I was seized with a morbid fit and decided that you were a master not worth serving, so I would make an end of myself.'

  'Do you realize that you have laid yourself open to a court martial?'

  'Of course. But whatever you may do to mc, I now have at least the consolation of knowing that Pauline still loves me.' 'And how do you know that?'

  'Because on arriving in Paris I at once sought an explana­tion with her, and we spent last night together.'

  'You . . . you!' Napoleon stammered, his eyes bulging. 'You actually had the audacity to ... to... '

  'Why not? She loves me, and I had the right to.'

  'Mon Dieu, your insolence knows no bounds. I'll have you court martiallcd for desertion and that will be the end of you.'

  'Do, if it pleases you,' Roger sneered. 'First you plan to wreck the happiness of your favourite sister and a man who would have made her an excellent husband, then you decide to ruin the career of one of your most faithful servants. People will not think so well of you when they learn how you have treated your poor brother-in-law.'

  'Brother . . . brother-in-law,' Napoleon stared at him. 'What the devil do you mean?'