Vintage Love

by Clarissa Ross

  Eric reminded her of this as he stood on the deck at her side, studying the busy harbor. He said, “This was once the capital of Napoleon’s Kingdom of Naples. His sister Caroline and his brother Joseph held the throne here in turn.”

  She said, “Caroline was not his favorite. He spoke of her bitterly more than once.”

  “He felt that she had deceived him and was in many ways his enemy. Like many others Napoleon found his family hostile to him.”

  “And according to Felix Black he is now here in hiding?” she said.

  “That is the last word I had,” Eric agreed. “There ought to be a message or a messenger awaiting us in Naples.”

  The hotel they had selected was more like a grand old castle than a public lodging place. The rooms were large and well furnished, and the restaurant and lobby had the elegance of a castle. Further it had the advantage of being only a short walk from the busiest part of the city.

  She’d barely unpacked when Eric came to her room and told her, “I have to go out and try and make contact with another of our agents. Kingston will remain in the hotel to keep you company.”

  “I should be all right on my own,” she said.

  “Don’t be too sure,” he warned her. “The game becomes more dangerous as we near our quarry.”

  She gave him an earnest look. “You do believe that Napoleon is here?”

  “Yes,” he said. “That means that Valmy’s agents will be all over the place.”

  “Be careful!” she told him.

  He smiled and kissed her. “I think I can take care of myself. I worry mostly about you.”

  “I’ll be all right,” she said.

  Eric left and she went out on the balcony of her room for a while. Then she became restless. The shopping district was nearby, and she had a few things she wished to purchase. So she left her room and went downstairs to find Kingston seated in the lobby reading a tattered copy of the London Times.

  The veteran actor rose at once. “I’ve been catching up with the news from London,” he said. “Actually there’s nothing new in it for me. This edition was published before we left. I’ve read it all before.”

  She smiled, “At least it will bring back facts you knew.”

  “Covent Garden is having a fine season,” the actor said. “The manager here tells me they have many English guests, but I have not encountered any yet.”

  “It is not the high season,” she suggested. “I propose to go out on a shopping expedition to the streets nearby. I felt I should let you know.”

  Kingston showed concern. “You’re not saying you will go alone?”

  “Yes. I’ll be perfectly safe. It is daylight, and the streets are filled with people. No one will try to kidnap me.”

  He frowned. “I don’t think Eric would approve. Perhaps I should go along.”

  “It would bore you,” she warned him. “And your presence would make me nervous.”

  Kingston looked hurt. “I was not aware of having this particular effect on you.”

  “I don’t mean your personality. I mean I need time to consider the items I’ll be buying, and you would quite properly become impatient. I can manage best alone.”

  “If you are sure,” he said reluctantly.

  “I am,” she promised. “Now do go back to reading your paper. And if Eric returns before I do, let him know where I’ve gone.”

  “Try not to be long,” Kingston said with a concerned look on his pleasant face.

  She left him and headed out to the narrow driveway which led down to the street. Beyond the walled area of the hotel grounds she found herself caught up in the colorful confusion of the many shops. The people were noisy and friendly and the air warm and filled with the delicious smells emanating from the many food shops scattered along the way.

  She spent a long while in a small jewelry shop and then went on to an establishment which specialized in ladies’ clothing. She bought herself a needed cape with a hood attached. Then she wandered on down the street.

  Unexpectedly a hand gripped her arm and a low voice directed her, “You will show no fear and come along with me!”

  She turned in surprise to find that it was a well-dressed elderly man in top hat and blue jacket and brown breeches who had taken hold of her.

  She asked, “Who are you and what do you want?”

  “I am a friend, Miss Chapman,” the old gentleman said. He had a gray moustache, and his face was heavily lined. “I swear I mean you no harm.”

  “What do you want?” she asked. “And how do you know my name?”

  “I’m the messenger of a friend, Miss Chapman,” the old gentleman said. “Someone wishes to see you and has asked me to bring you to them.”

  She held back as they stood on the busy sidewalk with the old man still keeping his grasp on her arm. She said, “I can scream, and someone will come to my aid!”

  “There is no need for that,” the old gentleman told her. “If you refuse to accompany me, I will let you go free.”

  She frowned. “How did you know who I am?”

  “You do not recognize me,” the old man said. “But I have seen you before. On Saint Helena with the emperor. I was a minor member of his entourage on the island.”

  She stared at him. “I cannot recall you.”

  “I did not expect you to,” he said. “But I had no problem seeking you out. You have not changed all that much since those days on the island.”

  “Who wishes to see me?”

  “A good friend.”

  She stood there hesitating. And she wondered if it might be Napoleon, himself, who wished to speak with her. If so, she could not miss the opportunity. It might be that while Eric was out making a search for the Valmy party, she was being given an opportunity of contacting it.

  She said, “Where is this friend?”

  “In a building only a few doors from here.”

  “You swear on your honor as an officer that I will not be harmed or detained against my wishes?”

  “You have my word,” the old man said.

  She still waited, but she knew she would capitulate to his offer. She would be ignoring the purpose of her quest if she passed up a possible contact with the fugitive Napoleon. She might be able to warn him if she managed to have a personal conference with him. Let him know of Valmy’s planned deceit.

  “My arm is paining from your grip on it,” she told the old ex-officer.

  “My pardon, Mademoiselle Chapman,” he said, releasing his hold on her.

  She stood there knowing she was free; that all she had to do was turn and run back in the direction of the hotel. She doubted that the old man would try to follow her, and if he did, he had only a small chance of catching up to her. Even if he did, she could make a fuss and ask some of the passersby to come to her aid.

  But she knew she wouldn’t make the escape attempt. She would go with him and see if he’d lead her to the fallen emperor.

  She said, “Very well. I’ll go with you.”

  The old man bowed. “A wise decision,” he said.

  He led her a short distance down the street to a building which held a wine shop on the ground floor. Next to the store front there was an open door leading up a dark flight of stairs.

  The old man told her, “We go up here. I will lead the way. It is dark and the steps are not in good repair.”

  “Very well,” she said. And as she followed him up in the darkness, she thought how unlikely a place this was to find the fallen emperor who had known the most luxurious of surroundings for such a large part of his life. He had come back to his early humble days it seemed.

  Reaching the first floor, the old man went down a hall which led further to the rear of the building. He halted at a door there and knocked several times in a manner which evidently was a signal. There was a wait, and then the door was cautiously opened.

  The old man said, “She is here!” And then he turned to her and said, “Please go in.”

  She gave him a wary glance
and then moved on to the open doorway and into a room whose shades were drawn so that she could see only shadows. The door closed behind her, giving her a feeling of sheer terror.

  Suddenly one of the blinds at the window was whipped open, and standing by it, she saw the familiar face and figure of Dr. Barry Edward O’Meara!”

  “You!” she gasped.

  “And who were you expecting? Felix Black?”

  “No.”

  “Perhaps the emperor himself,” the Irish doctor said with a hint of mockery.

  “The thought had crossed my mind,” she admitted.

  The pleasant-faced Irishman said, “I’m sorry it is only O’Meara you’ll see this day.”

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “You must remember Admiral Roche,” he said, indicating a man who had been sitting silently in a chair in a dark corner, so motionless she had not noticed him.

  Now she gave her attention to the rather frail figure in the chair, and she recognized the black patch he wore on his right eye and the head of curly white hair. He had been one of the trusted officers who had gone to St. Helena with Napoleon. Badly wounded in the wars, he walked with a limp, but he had a handsome face despite the eye patch.

  Admiral Roche got up from the chair and bowed. “It brings back nostalgic memories to see you again, mademoiselle.”

  “Thank you,” she said warmly, for she had always liked the man. She felt afraid no longer.

  “You were a great inspiration to the emperor,” the admiral said. “He missed you when you left the island.”

  “I missed him,” she said.

  Dr. Barry Edward O’Meara spoke up in his blustering way and said, “Cannot we not have our discussion in comfort? At least you should sit down, Betsy.”

  “Thank you,” she said and sat in the nearest chair.

  Admiral Roche returned to the easy chair he had been occupying and told her, “I had not truly ever expected to see you again.”

  She said, “Nor I you.”

  O’Meara told her, “The admiral knows why you are here. That you are an agent of Black’s.”

  “So?” she said.

  “I told you I would be here on my own,” O’Meara went on to advise her. “And I warn you the city is alive with Valmy’s agents.”

  “That is to be expected,” she said.

  O’Meara stood before her with a mocking smile on his face. “Tell me, are you still as enthusiastic about being an agent?”

  “To be truthful, no.”

  The Irishman chuckled and told the seated Roche, “You hear that, admiral. She has found out what we all come to know. It is a dangerous and unrewarding business.”

  “None the less I will see my mission through,” she said firmly.

  O’Meara lifted an eyebrow. “I see a change in you. Is it possible you have come to love your enemy?”

  She said, “I understand the enemy is Raymond Valmy. In that case, I can say no.”

  The Irish doctor shook his head. “I wasn’t thinking of Valmy. I was thinking of Major Eric Walters. Didn’t you blame him for your brother’s death?”

  Her cheeks burned. “That was long ago.”

  “So I am right,” O’Meara said triumphantly. “Walters has won you over.”

  “I have great respect for him as a colleague,” she said.

  “Indeed,” the Irish doctor said. “And where is he now?”

  “Somewhere in the city,” she said.

  Admiral Roche said, “You have come here hoping to find Napoleon?”

  “I don’t think that is any secret,” she said.

  “You’ve wasted your time,” Dr. Edward Barry O’Mears told her. “He is here no longer.”

  “How do you know?”

  Admiral Roche spoke up. “Because we are here for the same purpose. To try and get to him before Valmy pushes him further in this mad scheme.”

  O’Meara smiled at her bleakly. “It would seem that for all Felix Black’s organization, I’m still a step ahead of him.”

  She said, “I have no comment. I’m here solely because I would like to talk with the former emperor and tell him of his danger.”

  “We wish to do exactly the same thing,” Admiral Roche told her.

  “We don’t fully trust Mr. Felix Black and his agents,” O’Meara went on. “He was never Napoleon’s friend in the past. Why should he try to save him now?”

  She said, “Because he feels it will also save England from facing another revolution in France and a disastrous war led by Valmy’s party. It is known that Valmy has an intense hatred for England.”

  Admiral Roche nodded gravely. “He is a firebrand. I was always fearful of his political theories. Now, using the emperor, he is especially dangerous.”

  She asked, “How long since Valmy and the emperor left here?”

  “We aren’t actually sure,” O’Meara said. “We arrived here a week ago, and they had gone by then.”

  “Where?” she asked.

  “We have heard Valmy has a palace in Venice, and that is where they have headed,” O’Meara said.

  “Venice would make an excellent hiding place,” the veteran Admiral Roche agreed. “It is full of dark corners and mystery.”

  Betsy asked, “Have you talked with anyone who saw the party?”

  O’Meara nodded grimly. “Yes. I had a long talk with someone who spent quite a bit of time with them. He is a kind of organizer for Valmy.”

  “What about the emperor?” she asked.

  “Distressing,” Admiral Roche said sadly. “He has grown more corpulent. And Valmy has made him grow a moustache. The story is that he has become apathetic and has no heart for this venture.”

  O’Meara spoke angrily, “It is Valmy who pushes him on. Napoleon is not a well man. And as a final indignity Valmy has saddled him with a bad-tempered mistress who gives him little peace. A scheming widow named Giselle Manton, who was once Valmy’s woman friend. Probably still is.”

  “Undoubtedly,” Admiral Roche agreed, “Valmy is using this woman to spy on the emperor and sway him to do Valmy’s bidding. It is sad!”

  Betsy agreed. “He deserves better than that.”

  “He has fallen into the worst possible hands,” Admiral Roche worried. “If we are not able to rescue him, there will be a major tragedy.”

  O’Meara nodded. “Our work is far from over now. It is on to Venice.”

  “We only pray we are not too late, for it is from Venice that Valmy plans to directly move the emperor into France. All the groundwork has been laid for regional insurrections, with a major outbreak scheduled for Paris.”

  Betsy rose. “I must be going now. I will be missed, and they will worry.”

  “Walters and that actor,” the Irishman said glumly. “I cannot think they will manage all that well.”

  “I’d rather not think of us being in competition,” she protested.

  “Wouldn’t you now?” O’Meara said with a hint of sarcasm. “Well, let me tell you this. I don’t know what Felix Black has in mind. But if we get to Napoleon first, you will never see him.”

  She sighed. “It is too bad there could not be more trust between us.”

  Admiral Roche had also risen. He explained, “We fear that in the end Black, like Valmy, means to see the emperor executed. We distrust his plan for sending him to America. We, on the other hand, want to see him free and living his remaining years in comfortable seclusion.”

  Betsy said, “I know you to be an honorable man, admiral. And I think Dr. O’Meara is sincere. But I believe Felix Back has the best plan, and I will continue to dedicate myself to it.”

  O’Meara eyed her with some annoyance. “You will remember that the emperor trusted you — that once he showed something close to love for you.”

  “I will not deny that,” she said. “It is the reason I am here in Naples. To warn him!”

  “I think Black means to use you as an instrument of the emperor’s destruction,” O’Meara warned her. “I believe we should
make you our prisoner.”

  “I have put myself at your mercy. I did so because I had an idea I was going to be ushered into the presence of Napoleon. And that I could save him.”

  Chapter Eleven

  THERE WAS a tense silence in the low-ceilinged room with its whitewashed walls. Then Admiral Roche moved over to her, emotion showing on his lined face. The eye free of the black eye patch fixed on her, and he said, “You need have no fear, mademoiselle. We are, as you have said, men of honor. We will not detain you!”

  “More the fools we may be!” O’Meara worried.

  She smiled at him. “I remember you as anything but a fool. And the emperor relied on Admiral Roche more than on anyone else in his entourage.”

  “That is why I hope he will listen to me and loose himself from the domination of Valmy,” the old admiral said.

  “What a story it could make!” O’Meara said. “And I would like to be the one to write it.”

  “If it goes the other way, the story will be equally hair-raising,” Betsy said sobering. “But infinitely more tragic.”

  O’Meara told her, “You can give Walters the information we’ve passed on to you. And you can also tell him that we’ll be in Venice before him. And we hope to have the emperor safely on his way to real safety before Felix Black can reach out to get him.”

  “Our motives are identical,” she said. “It is too bad you lack trust in us.”

  “So be it!” the big Irishman said.

  “Our man is waiting outside,” Admiral Roche told her. “He will escort you back to your hotel.”

  The elderly ex-officer was standing in the hallway, and she joined him as the door to the room behind her was closed. It was evident that neither the admiral nor O’Meara intended to expose themselves to Valmy’s agents or even her own associates. This way they could deny ever having spoken with her.

  The old man who was her escort said little as he led her back along the busy street. Her own mind was too filled with troubled thoughts for small talk. The big disappointment was that Napoleon was no longer in the city. And she did not doubt that O’Meara had told her the truth about this. She expected that Eric Walters would also have this information by now.