The sugar-scented air seemed once again to distract his focus momentarily. He inhaled deeply and smiled, before fixing her with his sapphirine gaze.
A frisson slid down her spine as their eyes met. In that instant, she suddenly understood the extraordinary intellectual prowess of this unremarkable-looking little man. Saybrook had been right to warn her not to underestimate him.
“Yes, well,” he said. “It was mathematics that launched me on my career. As a youth in Brienne, I excelled at the subject and drew the attention of the great mathematician Laplace, who interviewed me for a position at the Paris Military School. I completed the three-year course in one year, and then . . .” A tiny smile. “I had some early success on the field of battle.”
The Battle of Toulon, she recalled. In 1793, Napoleon’s brilliance with the artillery had won a major strategic victory for Revolutionary French government against the Royalists and their British allies. From there he had progressed through the ranks like a bright, blazing meteor . . .
“When I became emperor,” he went on, “I used to met regularly with Laplace and the great mathematicians Mascheroni and Legrange. Our discourses as we worked on solving various theoretical problems were quite stimulating. Indeed . . .” A note of pride tinged his voice. “I proved a theorem, which was then named after me—Napoleon’s Theorem. It relates to equilateral triangles.”
Arianna swallowed hard. Another reminder that this was no toothless old lion, simply looking for sweets and companionship. “Very impressive, Your Majesty.”
“You appear to have a formidable talent as well, Lady Saybrook.”
She was about to reply when once again he leaped to another thought. “As your husband is a serious man of science, tell me—has he ever explored the field of divination?”
She doubted that Saybrook would deign to acknowledge the occult arts as a science. Most likely he would call it quackery. But she knew of the emperor’s fascination with mystical talismans and their supernatural powers. Rumor had it that in 1805, he had brought the ancient Bayeux tapestry to the coast of France when planning to invade England with a flotilla of small boats, believing William the Conqueror’s luck would rub off on him. However, the prevailing winds and the might of the British Navy had proven more than a match for whatever magic the frayed weaving possessed. The invasion was never launched.
“To my knowledge, he has not yet had the opportunity to study such phenomena,” answered Arianna, spooning out the last measure of chocolate. “I’m sure he would find it an interesting subject.”
“I’m quite sure he would.”
She set aside the sheet of finished confections. “Now we must wait for a quarter hour for the confections to set.”
He eyed them longingly and then resumed his train of thought. “As I was just saying about your husband, any man of curiosity and erudition can't help but be captivated . . .”
Napoleon hesitated, and then suddenly slid down from his stool. “There is something I wish to show you, Lady Saybrook. Please follow me.”
What a strange and mercurial man. But great men rarely marched in step with the crowd, and despite her feelings about the death and destruction he had wreaked throughout Europe, Arianna conceded that there was something magnetic about Napoleon’s personality and his extraordinary intellect, heightened, perhaps, by the fact that his appearance was so very ordinary.
The emperor led the way back up to the main corridor of the palace, but rather than turn for the public receptions rooms, he opened a door leading into the private set of chambers.
“This way,” he murmured, crossing through a small salon and entering a study filled with leatherbound books.
Arianna darted a look around as Napoleon moved to a large mahogany desk and began fiddling with one of the drawers. A number of carved limestone statuettes sat atop the ornate shelves. She recognized them as Egyptian— several sphinxes and a falcon-headed deity.
“Horus,” he said, looking up and catching her glance. “The ancient Egyptian God of War. He’s also worshipped as the God of the Sky, ruling over both the sun and the moon.”
“I’ve heard you have a great interest in Egypt.”
“Yes, it's a magical land, filled with mystery and wonders.” As a brash young general, Napoleon had convinced the revolutionary leaders of France to allow him to invade Egypt in 1798. The practical reason was to disrupt trade British with India, but even then, Napoleon had been captivated by the ancient mysticism of the East.
“The Pyramids . . .” His breath seemed to catch in his throat. “As for the Sphinx, that creature who guards the great mysteries of Life. She represents wisdom and strength, life and death . . .”
He lifted a finger and gestured for her to come closer.
Arianna swallowed hard, surprised to find her heart was thumping against her ribs, and slowly crossed the carpet.
“You speak of chocolate as having special powers, so I know you have the imagination to see beyond the ordinary.” His voice dropped another notch. “People like you and I can appreciate that there are unseen forces that guide our destiny—we simply must learn how to channel them.”
A small leather case was cradled in his palm. He inserted a tiny gold key into the lock and gave a twist.
Click.
The lid popped free. With a flick of his thumb, Napoleon raised it.
Nestled on a bed of green velvet was a small sphinx carved out of crystal. It sat on a jewel-encrusted pedestal of silver.
An involuntary gasp slipped from her lips.
“Isn’t it magnificent?” The emperor carefully lifted it from its case and held it up to the light. “It was made for me by the great sculptor Canova, and together we designed it to be a powerful talisman for good luck.”
He shifted it slightly, so the sun played off the jewels. “You see the four peridots? They are my birthstone, and green is my favorite color We’ve also added symbols from the ancient Egyptian tarot . . . four signifies “emperor” and thirteen signifies “death.”
Arianna wondered how death could be lucky.
Napoleon smiled, as if reading her thoughts. “It signifies the death of the old regime. I was crowned emperor in the thirteenth year of the new French constitution. The pearls stand for divine wisdom, and the red rubies for the power of love.”
His expression turned unreadable. “And ten signifies the tenth letter of the alphabet—J for Josephine. Her love and loyalty remained unwavering throughout the years.” His gaze lingered on the crystal face of the Sphinx. “And she always said she brought me good luck. So, voila, although she has gone to the grave, her spirit remains with me.”
He bowed his head for a moment, then went on to explain the other arcane symbolism.
“It’s most impressive,” whispered Arianna as he laid it back on its bed of velvet and closed the lid. Even though she didn’t believe in the power of trinkets and talismans, she felt a strange current quivering through the air.
“Yes, and it will soon . . .”
She waited, but he turned away and returned the case to the drawer.
“Soon what?” pressed Arianna as the lock clicked shut and Napoleon slipped a tasseled key ring into his pocket.
An enigmatic smile pulled at his mouth. “It's bad luck to speak of a secret wish before it's come true. But I hope to let you know it before long.”
Arianna felt her chest clench but forced an answering smile. “How cruel of you to pique my curiosity, and then leave me breathless with anticipation, Your Majesty.” Her lashes fluttered. “Surely you can give me a hint—must I wait a day? A week? A month?”
Napoleon laughed. “Don’t some things taste all the sweeter for being unexpected?”
Not war and mayhem.
“Now, shall we return to the kitchen and taste your chocolate confections?”
She dared not push him any harder. “Yes, of course, sir.”
* * *
Another half hour passed before Arianna could take her leave from the emperor. T
ry as she might, she hadn’t been able to tease any clue as to his plans out of him. Hardly a surprise, considering he was the brilliant and cunning strategist who had outfoxed every great general in Europe . . . save for Wellington. The two of them had never faced each other on the battlefield.
And she prayed they never would.
Stepping from the shade of the entrance portico to one of the side terraces, Arianna stood in the sunlight, letting its warmth dispel the shivers coursing down her spine.
Numbers—Napoleon believed in the supernatural powers of numbers. He might possess the mind of a genius, but . . .
To the Devil with such occult fiddle-faddle, she thought. What she and Saybrook needed was the date and time the emperor was planning to bolt.
Perhaps then they would have a chance to stop him.
Tonight was another gathering of the emperor’s entourage and the international visitors to the island. A theatrical performance—though most of the evening’s drama and playacting would likely be taking place off the stage—followed by refreshments at the palace.
The truth was there, hidden beneath the swirl of subterfuge . . .
A child’s shout from beyond the terrace wall drew her from her musings. Curious, Arianna edged to the opening overlooking a swath of lawn bordered by a graveled footpath. A young boy, his golden curls dancing in the breeze, was chasing a ball as it rolled across the grass toward the cluster of sharp-thorned rose bushes near where she was standing.
“Alors, don’t trample the flowers, ma petit!” called one of the ladies watching him from the shade of a mulberry tree.
It was Napoleon’s sister, Pauline. Next to her were the emperor’s aged mother, who had come from Corsica to share her son’s exile, and a dark-haired man Arianna didn’t recognize. Unlike the others, he wasn’t smiling at the child’s antics.
In a flutter of pale silk, another lady suddenly darted out from behind the dour-face man and ran to help the boy extract his ball from the bushes.
It was the baroness, realized Arianna.
Jelena let out a peal of merry laughter as the boy’s exuberant dash led him to trip and tumble to the ground.
“Have a care, Liebchen,” she called. “The thorns are—”
“OUCH!”
“Sharp,” she finished as she dropped to her knees beside him. “Here, let me see if I can reach it for you.”
All artifice, all posturing was gone from Jelena's face. There was a light-hearted happiness that Arianna had never seen before.
However, it disappeared in an instant as the man approached and took hold of the boy’s collar. “Enough of games,” he said, yanking him to his feet. “We must be going now.”
Jelena rose, ball in hand, and held it out to the child.
The man batted it away.
“But—” began the baroness, only have him lean close and silence her with a rapidfire response. Whatever he said, it made her flinch.
The man then stalked toward the footpath leading up to the fort, giving the boy another impatient shake when he lagged behind.
Hugging her arms to her chest, the baroness watched them go without further protest.
“Come, Jelena, all this walking has fatigued me,” called Pauline with a languid wave. “Let us go inside and ring for refreshments.”
The baroness slowly bent down to pick up the ball. Her hands were shaking, and when she turned into the sunlight, the gold-dappled glow couldn’t hide the fact that she looked like death warmed over.
Arianna edged back from the opening to avoid being seen. Pressing her back to the cool stone, she drew several deep breaths to steady her own jumpy nerves.
Yet another mysterious piece of the puzzle. But she had a feeling that she knew how this one fit into place.
Chapter 22
“All the world’s a stage,” muttered Saybrook as he stood in the shadows of their balcony box, watching the guests below file out of the theater.
“And all the men and women merely players,” added Arianna, repeating the lines from Shakespeare that they had just heard. Of all ironies, the evening’s performance had been As You Like It. “The Bard was a keen observer of human nature.”
“Let us hope our skills are half as sharp.” The earl was in a testy mood. His meeting with Eduardo’s fellow officer had brought new revelations and new leads to follow—but maddeningly enough, still no clear-cut clues as to his cousin’s guilt or innocence.
“We are making some headway,” she pointed out. “From what I learned this afternoon, we have further proof that Napoleon is planning an escape soon. And as for the baroness . . .” She looked down on the mezzanine and spotted Jelena standing with Pauline and two officers of her brother’s Imperial Guard, waiting for the crowd to thin. “I think we now know what hold our enemies have over her.”
“Johannes.” Saybrook’s mouth thinned. “But precious little good it does us.”
“Not necessarily. Now that I know, I’ve some ideas on how to press her to confide in us.”
The earl huffed a low snort. “Loyalty to the child will win out over any obligation to Grentham.”
“Perhaps the two aren't mutually exclusive,” said Arianna. But she knew his skepticism was likely more realistic. “For now, leave the baroness to me. Tell me more about what you learned.” He had returned to Portoferraio late in the afternoon, and there had been little time to discuss his discoveries before the theater engagement. “And what you have planned for tomorrow.”
“Castillo told me that he and Eduardo had made friends with several of the local men, and occasionally went on hunting forays for wild boar up in the mountains. On one of these trips, they learned that for the last six months there have been a number of strangers going back and forth between Elba and France by small boat. They land in Viticcio, a small fishing town which is just an hour's ride from here.”
“In order to avoid the strict regulations imposed by Campbell concerning who may visit the emperor?” said Arianna.
“Yes,” he replied. “Castillo shrugged it off as petty smuggling, but apparently Eduardo felt compelled to do some investigating. Not long after that, he began to act strangely—according to Castillo he became more guarded, more furtive.”
“And then poof, he vanished into thin air.”
The earl made a face. “Before you tell me that some perverse black magic has seized hold of the island, I soon hope to have an alternative answer. I plan on visiting the town tomorrow.”
“The illicit visits explain how such a complicated plan as the emperor's escape could be put together,” she mused. “It seems to me that there's a good chance someone there not only knows about Eduardo's disappearance but also has heard whispers of exactly when it's going to take place.”
“The same thought has occurred to me,” answered Saybrook. “Be assured I will be making inquiries.”
“Inquires?” The soft echo fluttered through the velvet draperies, followed an instant later by the scuff of boots as Major Standish parted the fabric and joined them. Wolff was right behind him. “Inquiries as to what, milord?
Damnation. Arianna cursed herself for being so careless. How long had the two men been standing there? She tried to read Standish, but his expression gave nothing away.
“Given my familiarity with all that goes on here in Elba,” continued the major, “perhaps I can be of help.”
“Perhaps you can,” replied the earl. “Might you be able you recommend the best place to have a riding boot repaired? The heel on one of mine has come loose.”
Standish responded with the name of a shop and its location.
“Now that we have settled sartorial matters, shall we go to the palace and partake of the emperor’s rather mediocre champagne?” suggested Wolff. He offered Arianna his arm. “How did you enjoy the performance, Lady Saybrook? I must say, I found the acting surprising good . . .”
* * *
All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.
Arianna sipped h
er wine, the effervescent bubbles feeling like daggerpoints pricking against her tongue as she watched the various plays-within-a-play going on around her. Jelena flirting furiously with the French officer who was Colonel Campbell’s second-in-command . . . Wolff conversing with Piersault and several visitors from Rome . . . Hamilton exchanging pleasantries with Standish—or were they discussing something darker?
“I have been thinking,” she murmured as Saybrook drifted away from the crowd and came to join her by the terrace doors.
He raised a brow.
“Why the devil didn’t Grentham simply have the government dispatch an armed force to put Napoleon under house arrest until he and his operatives could root out the conspiracy to restore him to the throne?” she continued. “One doesn’t require spectacles to see that a spark is about to be struck under this powderkeg. It’s not like him to let such conniving blow up in his face.”
“If it were up to him and our government, I’m sure he would have Wellington and a regiment of Hussars riding at full gallop from the endless talking in Vienna,” replied the earl. “Having been forced to dance through that viper’s nest of intrigue, you know as well as I that it’s not that simple. Talleyrand, Metternich, Tsar Alexander—Ye God, the tangle of international scheming has Britain’s hands tied.”
“And the people of Europe will pay in blood for the self-serving machinations of their leaders.”
“Indeed,” he said grimly. “Unless by some miracle—” He fell silent as Merriweather and General Bertrand, Napoleon’s grand marshal, approached them.
“Quite a change from the cramped quarters of Basilisk, is it not, Lady Saybrook?” The glittering light from the chandelier sparked off his crystal glass as Merriweather lifted his champagne in salute. “One doesn’t experience such glamor and grandeur at sea.”
His eyes, noted Arianna, looked overbright. Perhaps he had drunk too much wine.
“I have just met the emperor,” he added.
“And what was your impression?” she asked.
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