The Rising Storm

by Dennis Wheatley

  Isabella nodded. “I have had little chance to do so before, as this morning was the first time we have ever been alone together for more than a few moments. Yet though she be innocent, and despite all she urges to the contrary, I am still convinced that my husband plans to do away with me on her account.”

  “Have you, sweet, any fresh evidence of that?”

  “None, other than the looks of deadly hatred that he casts at me when he thinks himself unobserved. But Quetzal was so very definite. He is outside now, keeping a watch lest Diego should take it into his head to pay a call upon Lady Etheredge, although that is most unlikely at this hour. I will have the boy in, and you can question him yourself if you wish.”

  “If you are yourself convinced upon the matter, that is enough. I will take you away immediately I have completed my arrangements. What, though, of the interim? I had been counting, if pushed to it by dire necessity, on hiding you in Madrid till we could start; but Aranjuez is too small a place to offer any concealment, and the moment you leave your husband a hue and cry will break out. Can you yet guard yourself for a few days?”

  “I trust so. I have put myself on a most careful diet, and I doubt if Diego’s sombre thoughts will actually key him up to an attempt until he is driven desperate by Lady Etheredge announcing her intention to return home.”

  “Even so, I shall be anxious for you every moment until we can get away. But once we are in England I swear I will do my utmost to make you happy.”

  “Life will be far from easy for us,” she murmured. “Diego is a good Catholic and has much influence with the Church; so I am in hopes that he will succeed in putting me from him after a time. But now that I have borne him a child the easiest means of securing an annulment are barred to him.”

  “Let us not think of that. The essential thing is to place you beyond reach of danger as swiftly as possible. Tell me; do you regard it as essential to take Quetzal and Maria with us?”

  “Naturally I would wish to do so. But in that I am in your hands, my love. ’Tis for you to decide if I may.”

  “I should be most loath to deprive you of them. ’Tis bad enough that you should be forced to abandon your infant.”

  She shook her head. “I have not had it long enough to acquire a mother’s fondness for the poor little thing; and the fact that it is Diego’s instead of yours has put a check upon the warmth of the feeling which I would normally have for it. My mother and father were at the castle for its birth. She, I know, will give it the tenderest care, unless Diego decides that one of his sisters shall bring it up, and both of them are kindly women.”

  “That, at least, is a comfort,” Roger agreed. “The difficulty about our taking Maria and the boy lies in the long journey we must make over bad roads before we can reach a port; and I am much perturbed by it. Your disappearance and mine cannot possibly be concealed for more than a few hours, and in such a small place as Aranjuez everyone will swiftly learn of our going. Whether Don Diego has any genuine desire to reclaim you or nay, ’tis certain that, regarding his honour as touched, he will feel compelled to set off in pursuit; so unless we leave on fast horses and without encumbrances of any kind I greatly fear we shall be overtaken.”

  “My clever love, you are right in that; and, knowing in my heart that you would not fail to come for me, ’tis a matter that I have been pondering over ever since I wrote my letter to you.”

  “Have you then devised some plan?” Roger asked with quick interest.

  “Yes. ’Tis to get my husband sent away on a mission, so that once he has left Aranjuez we will have a clear field.”

  “The idea is an excellent one, but are you in any position to carry it out? I gather you have been here only four days, so can know hardly anyone at Court.”

  “I was here for a fortnight before going to the castle to have my child, and during that time made at least one powerful friend. I took special pains to cultivate the Queen’s favourite, Manuel Godoy.”

  “I was informed that he played no part in State affairs, and that all such matters still lay in the hands of Count Florida Blanca.”

  “That is true in the main, but may not continue to be so for long.” Isabella leaned towards him intently. “This is the present situation. Florida Blanca ousted my father from office sixteen years ago and remained supreme in the Councils of Carlos III until the late King’s death; but since the opening of the new reign his position has been by no means so secure. My father, both during his long Ambassadorship in Paris and since his retirement, has always remained the leader of a powerful Opposition. He and Godoy have now formed a secret alliance to oust Florida Blanca.”

  Her mouth twitched in a subtle smile, as she went on: “The mission I have in mind is one to France. Their Majesties have for some time been contemplating sending a special envoy there to consult with Louis XVI. As members of his family they are naturally much concerned by the weakening of his power, and are anxious to do anything they can to infuse new strength into the French monarchy. Florida Blanca maintains that all that can be done is already being done by our Ambassador, Count Fernanunez. The Queen, on the other hand, favours sending one of our great nobles to reinforce him. My father was suggested, but he is set upon remaining here, so that should Florida Blanca make a false step he will be at hand to take advantage of it. But my father and Godoy are anxious that whoever is sent to Paris should be pledged to their interests; and Diego possesses all the necessary qualifications. I suggested him to my father, and having obtained his consent put the idea to Manuel Godoy three evenings ago. He thought it admirable, and is at present working on the Queen with that in view.”

  Roger looked at her a shade apprehensively. “But if they settle upon Don Diego for this task, would not you, as his wife, have to go with him?”

  “Normally I should be expected to do so; but not in my present circumstances. My recent delivery, and the care so young a child still requires, will serve as an admirable excuse for me to remain behind, for a few weeks at least. And I should give out that I intended to follow him later.”

  “What view does Don Diego take of this proposal?”

  “As yet he is unaware of it. I asked Godoy to make no mention of it to him. I said that should the matter be settled favourably I would like to tell him of it myself, as it is a considerable honour and would prove a pleasant surprise. The truth is I feared that, did he become aware of what was afoot before the Queen’s choice was fixed, he would seek to oppose the plan on account of its separating him from Lady Etheredge.”

  “Think you, should he be nominated, that he will go without protest?”

  “If ’tis the King’s order he will not dream of questioning it. No Hidalgo of Spain would even contemplate refusing a mission from his Sovereign.” Isabella was smiling a little grimly as she spoke, but after a moment she added with less confidence: “We can count on nothing yet, though. Everything still hangs upon Godoy persuading the Queen of Diego’s suitability for the mission.”

  “I would that I could forward this excellent project in some way,” Roger said, with a thoughtful smile. “Tonight, you, I and Don Diego are to have audience of Their Majesties while I recount to them something of my experiences in France. It is just possible that the question of sending a special envoy to Paris may crop up then.”

  Isabella’s dark eyes sparkled. “You are right. A word in season is just what is required to decide the Queen, and this may prove the very opportunity to speak it. Could you insert into your discourse some mention of the high regard in which King Louis and Madame Marie Antoinette still hold the d’Aranda, and how they still speak with affection of both him and myself, I pray you, as you love me, do not neglect the chance.”

  “On the contrary, I shall seize upon it,” Roger assured her quickly. “And I am filled with admiration for the way in which you, my own, have thought this out and paved the way so skilfully. Should your clever plan succeed, we’ll be spared all the nerve-racking anxiety of a pursued elopement. About mid-May you could ann
ounce that you felt your child strong enough to permit of your following your husband, and set out with Maria, Quetzal and a whole coach-load of luggage. I would leave a few days in advance of you, and in a different direction, so that none of Don Diego’s relatives could form the least suspicion that there was any connection between our departures. Then we would meet at a prearranged rendezvous, make our way to Lisbon and be safe aboard a ship before our elopement was even guessed at. Oh, what a blessed relief it will be if only things are made so easy for us!”

  Simultaneously, they sighed in happy anticipation of such a fortunate solution to their difficulties and slid once more into one another’s arms.

  Nearly three hours later they were still embraced, when there came a discreet knock on the door. They had no idea that the time had passed so swiftly, but it was Georgina who had come to warn them that they ought not to linger for much longer.

  When she joined them a few minutes later, Isabella thanked her with special warmth for having arranged the rendezvous, and it was only then that Roger learned how fraught with difficulties their intrigue would have been without her. For it transpired that although Isabella was married, as she was under thirty Spanish etiquette still required that she should have a duenna, and she was never allowed to go outside the grounds of her house without being accompanied by this dragon.

  Before Isabella left them she told Roger that she had suggested to her husband that he should dine with them that evening, as the three of them could then go on afterwards to the Palace together; so he would find a note inviting him, at the Embassy villa. Then, when she had gone Roger and Georgina settled down for another talk and a few minutes later Colonel Thursby joined them.

  Georgina had no secrets from her fond, indulgent father, and knew that Roger had none either—as far as his love affairs were concerned—so she had told the Colonel that morning of the projected elopement. He had been greatly distressed on hearing of it, and, standing as he did almost as a second father to Roger, he now did his utmost to dissuade him from making an alliance that must prove so disadvantageous to his future. But Roger’s three hours with Isabella had revived much of his old feeling for her, and in the three weeks since he had received her letter he had come to accept it as a fact beyond all argument that, cost what it might in worldly prospects, his life was now irrevocably linked with hers.

  At five o’clock, now dressed for the Court, Roger presented himself at the Sidonia y Ulloa mansion, where he found that the party consisted only of his host and hostess, Georgina, Colonel Thursby and Isabella’s duenna. Don Diego received him with extreme politeness and he took special care not to arouse the Count’s jealousy by showing too great a familiarity with Georgina; moreover, knowing that Spanish gentlemen did not even allow their wives to tread a minuet in public with another man, unless they had first received permission to do so, he treated Isabella with the utmost formality, speaking to her only when she addressed a question to him.

  Even Georgina showed an unusual restraint in this frigid atmosphere, and the dinner would have proved an exceptionally dull one had it not been for Colonel Thursby. Although he was well aware of the tempestuous undercurrents that lay beneath the restraint of four out of five of his companions, he showed no sign of it. With the ease and polish of a highly cultured man who had spent half a lifetime moving in the best society of the European capitals he opened up a dozen subjects, drawing first one and then another of them into the conversation.

  As they rose from the table at the end of the meal, Georgina asked Don Diego how a portrait that he was having painted of himself was progressing. He replied that the Court painter, Goya, seemed quite a talented fellow and bade fair to produce a reasonable likeness; but as to that he would value her opinion. He did not include anyone else in his invitation to see the picture, and as Georgina took his arm Isabella tactfully showed that she had no intention of following them, by drawing Roger’s attention to a fine Velazquez over the mantelpiece in the dining-room.

  Out of the corner of his eye Roger caught sight of the old duenna’s face, and was amused to see her give a shocked glance first at Georgina’s back, then in Isabella’s direction. Obviously she was highly scandalised both by the brazen behaviour of the one in going off alone with her host and at the other’s breach of convention in failing to give her guest the protection of her company. As clearly as if the old woman’s skull had been made of glass he could see the thought agitating it, that the moment Don Diego had Georgina outside the door he would commit an assault upon her. Knowing his Georgina so well he was quite certain that Don Diego would get no more than a few kisses, unless she chose to let him; but he thanked his stars that he was not forced to live in a country such as Spain, where a man and woman could not walk down a corridor alone without being suspected of the grossest immorality.

  After only about ten minutes the truant pair joined the rest of the party in the salon, and Roger was intrigued to see that, while Georgina appeared completely at her ease, Don Diego could not conceal traces of the most violent emotion. His handsome face had gone quite grey, causing his knife-like nose to stand out grotesquely from it, and his big dark eyes were so limpid that it looked as if tears were likely to roll down his pale cheeks at any moment. His distress was such that he could not speak, and only nodded, when Colonel Thursby reminded him that it was time for those of them who were going to the Palace to start; but Georgina gave him a chance to pull himself together by launching out on a lively appreciation of Señor Goya’s painting.

  As soon as Don Diego had somewhat recovered, he, Isabella and Roger said good night to the others and went downstairs to a waiting coach. On the short drive to the Palace Don Diego sat hunched in gloomy silence, and Isabella was greatly puzzled as to what had come over her husband; but Roger was delighted to see him so suddenly and completely overwhelmed. He felt confident that it was due to a measure that he had concerted with Georgina that afternoon, after Isabella had left them, and he could now only pray that the other half of the plot he had contrived would prove equally successful.

  On arriving at the Palace they went first to Manuel Godoy’s apartments. The young courtier received them with the usual ceremonious compliments, then led them through several lofty, vaulted corridors to the presence chamber. It was a square room, painted white and gold and hung with tapestries depicting the life of John the Baptist; but it was very sparsely furnished. There were no settees, chests or side tables round its walls; only two high, stiff-backed elbow chairs with foot-rests in front of them stood in the centre, and grouped in a semi-circle before them half a dozen low, upholstered stools. King Carlos and Queen Maria Luisa occupied the chairs, behind them respectively stood two gentlemen and two ladies, and two of the royal children were seated on the stools nearest to their parents.

  After the ritual of reception had been observed the Sidonia y Ulloas, being of sufficient rank to enjoy the honour of the tabouret, as the stools were called, sat down on two of them; but Roger was not invited to sit, and during the entire audience he remained standing—a distinction he shared with Manuel Godoy, who, father and grandfather of Kings and Queens as he was later to become, was as yet also considered as too lowly a person to be permitted to ease his feet in the presence of the Sovereigns.

  But Roger did not regard this marked discrimination in accordance with birth as strange. He had been privileged to sit on several informal occasions when talking to crowned heads; but the Spanish Court was notoriously rigorous in the maintenance of strict etiquette, and even in England such distinctions were still carefully observed. He remembered once when at Holwood House he had heard Mr. Pitt remark to the company that at official interviews King George III always received hin standing, because the Monarch was too polite to sit down while keeping his Prime Minister on his feet, yet felt that he could not possibly allow a Minister who was a Commoner to be seated; and that on one occasion, although at the time the King was seriously ill, the two of them had discussed business for over four hours while remaining th
e whole time standing one on either side of a table.

  The fat-faced, hook-nosed King Carlos opened the conversation in French—as Roger knew only a few words of Spanish—by enquiring after the health of his cousins Their Majesties of France. Roger replied that when he had last seen them, two months previously, they were both much worried but otherwise in as good health as could be expected. He added that now King Louis was virtually a prisoner in the Tuileries he greatly missed his hunting, but got such exercise as he could by wielding a hammer at his locksmith’s anvil, and also consoled himself to some extent by spending a good part of his time at his other hobby of making clocks.

  Queen Maria Luisa then took charge of the proceedings and during the next hour and a half plied Roger with scores of questions.

  Among other things she asked him if he had met the Spanish Ambassador; so, while not unduly depreciating the qualities of the Conde Fernanunez, he had an excellent opportunity for saying how highly the Conde d’Aranda and his family were still esteemed at the Court of France. But most of her questions concerned the new powers assumed by the National Assembly and the scenes of violence that had taken place.

  The Spanish Sovereigns were incredibly shocked by his description of the attack on Versailles and the events that had followed it; as, although they had had numerous written accounts of these matters from various sources, they had never before heard them described by an eye-witness, and had little idea of the indignities to which the Royal Family of France had been subjected.

  When the Queen could think of no more questions to ask she turned her beady little eyes on the King and said something to him in Spanish.

  Up to then Don Diego, evidently occupied with his own sombre thoughts, had paid only the attention demanded by politeness to what was going on; but at the Queen’s words Roger saw him give a violent start.

  After a moment the dull-witted King nodded his head and, still speaking in French, replied: “Yes, we must certainly send a special envoy, if only to show our sympathy. He could, at the same time, press them on that other matter.”