And can you blame my brother, when it was he who returned to the horrific sight of his dearest darling Antonia being dragged into the winter night air in her night attire, out into the square, by her son. Her son, Lucian! Not a fiend, or a criminal, or an escapee from Bedlam. But her most precious eldest son, whom she worships almost as much as she does her husband! Yes, it is true I tell you. Her son, my nephew, Alston dragged her from her rooms and down the stairs and out into the night! He cast her out of the house and into the streets, as if she were a whore not worth his spit. And that is what he said to her. Accusing her of being a bawd, and that the child she carried as being the bastard offspring of her lover. My God, can you believe he accused his mother of adultery? Antonia, of all women on this earth? She the beauty of her age who is so utterly devoted to my brother, a reformed satyr, that they have been the butt of many a ridiculous cartoon not fit to print—but print it they do! I tell you, Lucian, such disgusting drawings would never be printed in Paris! At least France has a secret police to protect us! But I am rambling, but who can blame me?
No one, not I, not the Duchess’s physician, not the faithful family retainers, not even his godfather M’sieur Ellicott, who had come up to London to be present for the birth in a few weeks’ time, could tell Alston any different about his mother. At first we were all too shocked by his behavior and his actions to speak. And then it was almost too late to save Antonia from his wrath, when he pulled her after him, down the stairs and out into the night air! And that darling girl did not utter a syllable against him. I think she too was so shocked she lost the facility of speech.
He was drunk, Lucian. He was so drunk and full of angry tear-filled rage that it would not have mattered what Antonia or the rest of us had said to him, because he was incapable of listening to anyone or anything. He was as one blind to his outrageous behavior, and blind to the fact his mother had gone into labor. He had her by the arm and was shaking her, calling her the most appalling names and demanding of her who was her lover and the father of her bastard, and in such a rage that we were truly frightened he meant to hit her! Just the thought of it makes me faint!
And then, as if from nowhere, Roxton he was there! My brother, just returned from White’s, came out of the darkness. He strode up to his son with all the energy and strength of a man half his age, such was his rage, and I do not doubt fuelled with fear for Antonia. He saw and heard no one but the outrageous scene presented to his shocked gaze.
Thank God he is ever the cool-headed one in a crisis. He did the only thing left to him. The only thing none of the servants, not Antonia, not I, or his family would do. He grabbed his son by the scruff of the neck and pulled him off his mother. He then gave him such a backhanded slap that it knocked the boy off his feet! Stunned, he crumpled to the cobblestones. And it was only then that it came to him what he had done, and what he might have done, to his mother and her unborn child. And then Alston he let out such a howl it was as if a wounded animal had come amongst us.
Antonia she fell into M’sieur le Duc’s arms. And within the blink of an eye, as only Roxton’s presence can command, everyone was quiet and everything still. The chaos and the madness it was over with! My brother scooped Antonia up into his arms and marched indoors, leaving his son sprawled on the filthy cobbles, sobbing.
It was only then that our son he appeared out from the darkness, too, and with him his school friend Robert. They were sheepish but not afraid, and very drunk! Both boys were seized upon by Roxton’s servants, and despite my protests, despite my tears, all three boys were taken away, marched from the square, and taken inside the house and locked up! It was left to Roxton’s servants to clear the square of onlookers, and to Martin Ellicott to help me inside, and we followed my brother and Antonia back up to her rooms, where I have been ever since, except now, to write you this letter, to tell you to come home at once!
I cannot lie to you, and you must know for my brother’s sake, that Antonia was close to death and her labor over with so quickly that there is still a small chance of her not recovering from her ordeal. Lucian, she may not return to us. Her infant he breathes and he suckles but he is so very small. I have lit candles and prayed and prayed.
I do not know what will happen to Alston, or to our son. All I do know is that we need you here, that my brother he needs you here. So for God’s sake, get yourself a strong swift horse and ride like the storm which is fast approaching!
Your loving wife,
Estée
TEN
Mr. Martin Ellicott, Esq., Third Hill Residence, Constantinople, to His Grace The Most Noble Duke of Roxton, c/o William Kinloch CDA, His Britannic Majesty’s Embassy, Athens, Greece.
Third Hill Residence, Constantinople
June, 1767
Dear M’sieur le Duc et Mme la Duchesse,
I trust this letter finds Your Graces, Lord Henri-Antoine, Dr. Bailey, and the various members of your travelling party, in excellent health, and enjoying the warmer weather the Mediterranean affords.
Julian and I were overjoyed to read in your most recent missive that you are now only a month away from us. Your imminent arrival reminded us that we have resided in this city for almost three years, when we had planned to stay a mere 12 months. But there is so much to see and do, as you will discover upon your visit, that even after three years we are still uncovering aspects of this city new to us. Not to mention the numerous overnight journeys into the surrounding countryside, by ass or by small boat along the coast, that have taken us to places and sights that are a feast for the senses that, had we been home, could only ever be conjured up in the imagination from readings of the Scriptures.
Before I begin, let me assure Mme la Duchesse that I have managed to secure her desire for a sizeable house close by, a mere ten-minute walk from our own residence. Your party of fifteen will easily be accommodated within its white-washed walls, and this with the complement of some twenty native servants who all have various tasks to do, and who reside within the mansion’s complex of buildings. There is a Syrian native major domo, a M’sieur Anawi, who is fluent not only in several languages common to this part of the world, but his French and Italian are excellent, both being the prime tongues amongst the elite—local and foreign.
The house has an exceedingly pleasant aspect, with views of the surrounding hills and the harbor, and in the afternoon a refreshing sea breeze comes up the rise. All the rooms have cathedral ceilings with large picture windows, no glass, but shutters when needed, and are draped with oriental silks. The floors are marble, which is pleasant and cool underfoot in this warm climate. There is a scattering of sizeable oriental rugs. The ones in your private apartments are woven in brightly-colored silks and are indicative of the area. They were purchased, as you requested, to be taken up and shipped home upon your departure. I only hope that my taste in such furnishings is to your taste. But as you have assured me in the past that this is so, I will own to being proud of the selections I have made on your behalf, Mme la Duchesse.
The main part of the house is built around a large internal courtyard, open to the elements, that has at its center a rectangular bathing pool that is tiled with the most delightful mosaics and is entered at one end by a number of wide shallow steps leading down into the water. All the main public rooms open out onto this area, with its filtered sunlight, large pots containing palms, and numerous divans with their cushions, to sit and rest upon with guests, as is the way here. Or, as often happens, meals are taken in this area, with the bathing pool a welcome distraction before or after meals. Your private apartments also has a bathing pool, smaller in size but deeper. I hope you will approve and find that it is not inconsiderable.
The mansion is set in lush grounds which remind me of an oasis we visited in Syria, with date palms, vines, colorful flora, and a watering hole for the native birds. All of it is surrounded by a very high wall, higher than a man standing upon the shoulders of another. This will afford privacy and allow Lord Henri-Antoine to roam about with
out fear of him wandering off, though the number of servants would preclude this ever happening.
The property is leased for six months as was agreed, with the option to extend for a further six months, though I understand you desire to return to Paris for Christmastime.
One last matter regarding the house. I have had M’sieur Anawi allocate the rooms in the manner Your Grace specifically requested, and that one be set aside for Julian in the family wing so he may stay with you during your visit. I agree with you, that he should do so, if for no other reason than to make a connection with the little brother he has yet to meet, but as to whether he will, that is a matter requiring the greatest tact on your part, M’sieur le Duc, of which I know you are well aware.
But before I speak of Julian, let me say how gratified I am to read you enjoyed your stay in Rome, and that you were pleased with its relics, and more so with the treasures to be found at the Vatican. Of course who could refuse you a tour of those statues, paintings and treasures acquired by His Holiness’s agents throughout Europe and beyond? That you were able to meet up with the Vallentines in Rome, and enjoy some weeks staying at their villa, must have made for a happy reunion, particularly after a separation of some months’ duration. That M’sieur and Mme Vallentine have decided to return to Florence, and to the house of M’sieur’s cousin, who is consul, I am not surprised. And to own to a truth, it is better for Julian that this family reunion is a more intimate affair, and conducted without the presence of the Vallentines, regardless that their son remains in Paris. More on that subject you may discuss with me at your leisure when you are here.
I was greatly encouraged by your report of Lord Henri-Antoine’s health. That he has not suffered a bout of the falling sickness in over a month must surely bode well for his little lordship’s future, and be such a relief to you both. I hesitate to suggest that as you travel south into warmer weather this has had a beneficial effect on his humors? He sounds such an inquisitive child, that perhaps he has been too distracted with not enough time to take ill on your travels?
I must tell you that Dr. Hakim is very desirous of conferring with Dr. Bailey, as he assures me there are treatments and medicinals in this part of the world which may alleviate his little lordship’s symptoms, if not provide a cure. Dr. Hakim comes with the highest recommendation, and lest you think I go by recommendation alone, I had the physician call upon me and over a cup of Turkish coffee we spent a pleasant hour in discussion on all manner of subjects. I found him unassuming and interesting, and never boring. Mme la Duchesse, I think you will find him a great conversationalist.
We are both so looking forward to meeting Lord Henri-Antoine. Can he be almost six years old? It seems only yesterday Julian was running around in breeches for the first time in Mme la Duchesse’s garden at Treat. And to think my godson will be turning one-and-twenty while you are here, makes me shake my head at the passing of time!
Naturally, your visit is badly wanted. Your eldest son has missed you both extremely, as you well know from his letters and mine. If he is not immediately demonstrative of his true feelings upon this family reunion, it will only be because he wishes to appear a man, and thus, even with me and others, he does his utmost never to show his distress in public. As you can imagine, he still carries a great burden of guilt upon his young shoulders, and I fear always will, where the birth and health of his little brother are concerned. I have no wish to distress you or cause you to relive such a sensitive episode, but as I have been charged with your son’s welfare, I think it important you know his state of mind.
This reunion has filled him with the greatest apprehension, not only because it will be the first meeting of the brothers, but even more so because he wonders how you will receive him. I know. I know. You will both welcome him with joyful open arms, but it does not matter that I tell him so. He must experience it for himself, and then I think his mind will be settled.
As you do not keep any secrets from each other, I write openly and always honestly. But as to the next topic, I have enclosed a separate sheet of parchment on the understanding that you may wish to burn this particular page, given its sensitive nature, and yet keep the rest of the letter intact. I trust you will not think this gesture an impertinent one, but one born of necessity. Thus I will continue now on separate correspondence stock before returning here to finish my missive.
[Editors’ note: Here is the aforementioned single sheet, on separate parchment (written both sides), now returned to its original letter. It was not burned as was advised or predicted, but found amongst M’sieur le Duc’s most sensitive correspondence, in one of several locked red leather portfolios found in the secret stairwell within the Treat library.]
M’sieur le Duc, to be brutally honest, your visit here and our return to Paris with you cannot come soon enough. While this delightful sojourn in Constantinople has been one of our most pleasant foreign stays, we have prolonged our departure by a twelvemonth, and all because of Julian’s carnal association with a particular female whose husband is attached to the Russian Embassy.
I do believe had we made our plans just over a year ago, Julian would have acquiesced without question, and been glad of the change of scenery. He was growing restless by that time, for us to make the voyage by sea to Alexandria. We had discussed visiting Cairo and then making another sea voyage along the coast of Africa and on to Gibraltar, and thence up the Channel to France, to return to Paris.
These plans I had almost in place when they were thwarted. Julian caught the eye of the wife of the Russian Chargé d’affaires, one Prince Vladimir Rostovsky. The husband is frequently away from the city and to other parts of the empire, on business, leaving his childless wife behind, she preferring not to travel. She, too, is nobility, a princess of the Gargarins, and they both conduct themselves as if their umbilical cords are attached to the Empress herself. Meaning, they look down upon those who are not of equal status, and are as one blind to any menial below that of an Imperial lady-in-waiting. She expects all gentlemen to be in awe of her beauty, and he that every gentleman bow and scrape before him. In short, they are a well-matched couple.
The Princess Sonia Natalia Gargarin-Rostovskia is a willowy beauty, with pale skin, dark eyes and coal-black hair. She is eight, possibly ten, years Julian’s senior, but looks younger. And so she should, because her time is spent almost exclusively in the upkeep of her person. And yet, for all her vanity, she is an accomplished linguist, and such are her abilities that she is often called upon by the embassy to sit in on meetings requiring an interpreter. I concede she is a gracious hostess and pleasant enough company, from what I have witnessed on the handful of occasions I was in her presence at an embassy function. But of course, it is not for her conversation that Julian seeks her out.
When the Princess first showed an interest in Julian, I was not surprised. As you will discover yourself, your son has grown into a handsome young man, tall, broad-shouldered, with a wide lean frame. He has a devastatingly handsome smile, has inherited Mme la Duchesse’s extraordinary eyes, your deep smooth voice, M’sieur le Duc, and has a deference and natural noble bearing about his person, all of which combine to make him irresistible to females.
What surprised me was that he would be interested in this female, and that she would continue to hold his interest. Until the Princess, Julian has shown only polite curiosity in the opposite sex, and never expressed the desire or need for sexual congress with any woman, despite the many overtures he has received over the years, from females of the highest rank to those paid for their services, from Dover to Rome, and now here in this city. Thus it is not through lack of opportunity but a natural reticence, and dare I say an innate prudishness, which has kept him chaste. That is, until now.
As she is a married lady, and one who is discreet, I was inclined to look upon their affair, for that is what it is, as no bad thing. After all, with her he has received the best sort of introduction to the pleasures of the flesh, without the attendant worry of scandal had she bee
n younger, fertile, and less accomplished.
But their affair recently took a dangerous turn when the Princess’s husband walked in on his wife entertaining Julian. For while Rostovsky was aware of his wife’s indiscretions, to find her on her knees for a vigorous male some fifteen years his junior was a severe shock to his manly pride. It has caused a public rift in their marriage, and he has demanded she break off her association with Julian. This she has refused to do.
Her refusal and subsequent behavior has led her husband to throw caution to the winds and air this very private of matters in public. One evening, while drunk at the Occidental Club, and when I happened to be in the reading room after dinner and thus within his hearing, Rostovsky crudely announced that his wife had the most talented tongue in the Ottoman Empire. Of course this double entendre shocked those present by the very manner of its delivery rather than the revelation itself. I believe most members were unsure to what Rostovsky alluded, knowing his wife to be a renowned linguist.
However, the Prince could not leave it there, and continued to strut about the room pontificating. Firstly, that the duel fought between Lord Braithwaite and the Count Montessori, which had caused a sensation when Braithwaite was mortally wounded, was fought over the Princess. Secondly, that his wife was a cradle robber. Up until this drunken outburst, Julian had not been linked with the Princess, and there had been no public declaration on the part of her cuckolded husband as to his wife’s infidelity. Yet this outrageous outburst followed up with the crude quip that his wife’s young lover was a nobleman who was not only known to be a handful, but had given his wife quite a mouthful as well. He did not go so far as to state Julian’s name publicly but I fear that is unimportant now. Particularly as Julian fails to see the seriousness of the rapidly deteriorating situation between the husband and wife, and continues to visit the Princess.
Eternally Yours: Roxton Letters Volume 1 Page 5