Vintage Love

by Clarissa Ross

  In the late afternoon her lonely vigil was broken by the arrival of old Major Lacoste. The venerable army surgeon was tactful about finding her in Valmy’s apartment. “I was told you were here,” he said.

  “I was given no choice.”

  “That does not surprise me,” the old man said. “You are a beautiful young woman, and Valmy is an experienced lover.”

  She looked down. “I feel degraded.”

  The old man touched her arm. “You must not think about it!”

  “How can I help it?”

  “Think of the other problems we have,” the old man said. “Do not cross Valmy, for he can be as vicious as Von Ryn when he likes.”

  “I have sensed that,” she said. “He has promised to spare the lives of my two associates. Do you think I can trust him?”

  “Only as long as you keep his goodwill.”

  “Which means I must remain here!”

  “Perhaps not too long,” he told her. “I believe the plan is to leave shortly for Paris. He will not have any time for love affairs there.”

  For the first time she now gave attention to the old man’s mood, and she saw in it something which had not been there before, something close to despair.

  Staring at him, she asked, “Has something gone wrong?”

  “Why do you ask that?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “There’s a hint of something in your manner — as if you were depressed.”

  The army surgeon turned away from her and frowned down at the crimson carpet. “I am.”

  “Tell me!”

  “It is the emperor.”

  “What about him?”

  “I was given a brief audience with him this morning,” he said.

  “And?”

  “I was shocked. That woman living with him, rather beautiful in a coarse way, was drunk when I arrived early this morning.”

  “That is shocking,” she agreed.

  “A man whose son is the prince of Rome, whose wife was a princess, reduced to living with a drunken slattern!”

  “Why does he allow it?”

  “He rebuked her in my presence, and she jeered at him. Called him by a foul name! My emperor!”

  “Is he truly the emperor or an impostor?” she asked. “This does not sound like the Napoleon I knew.”

  “Nor does he act like the emperor I revered,” the old man said unhappily.

  “But he does look and speak like Napoleon?”

  “I think so,” the old army surgeon worried. “His gray hair and the moustache change his appearance. And he is thinner than when I last saw him. He looks burned-out.”

  “Perhaps that is a true description!”

  The old doctor paced up and down. “I do not know which way to turn. I cannot make up my mind.”

  Betsy said, “One thing seems clear to me. Felix Black was right. The Napoleon who has returned will be no match against Valmy.”

  He looked at her over his shoulder. “Felix Black said that?”

  “Yes.”

  “It could be true though I would never have admitted it before,” Lacoste said worriedly. “I asked him if he were well and had he any need of my services of a physician.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said that Valmy had provided him with doctors.”

  “Valmy has the complete say.”

  “When I see him, I shall demand that he free the emperor from the company of that drunken woman!” the old man raged.

  “Perhaps he wants her there to further demean the emperor,” Betsy said. “To make him more apathetic than he is.”

  “He is surely in a state of apathy if what I saw and heard is any indication.”

  She asked, “Do you still think your group can successfully place him back on the throne?”

  “I’m no longer sure of anything!”

  “So what will you do?”

  “Speak frankly to Valmy for one thing.”

  “Do you think that will help?”

  “I hope so.”

  She warned, “You must be careful not to anger him too greatly.”

  “I know.”

  She said, “I wish he would allow me to visit the emperor. If there is any sort of recognition of me, I would know he is truly Napoleon.”

  The old army surgeon asked, “Has he spoken of allowing you to go down below to the emperor’s quarters?”

  “He promised that I would in due time. I cannot understand his reluctance unless he is afraid I will see this man is not truly the emperor.”

  “He seemed genuine to me,” Major Lacoste said. Then he paused and added, “And at the same time I’m not certain.”

  “I must try and persuade him to let me visit down there.”

  “Yes. Keep after him about it.”

  She gave the old man an anxious look. “If all fails, do you think there is any hope of my escape?”

  “The palace is guarded as heavily as a fortress.”

  “I know.”

  “There is no danger yet,” the doctor assured her.

  “But if things grow worse,” she suggested.

  His experienced eyes met hers. “While I live, I will not desert you,” he promised.

  Chapter Fourteen

  BETSY AND Raymond Valmy lay side by side on the massive bed after a session of lovemaking which had become a nightly routine for them. She knew that he was obsessed with her, and it frightened her. She had also come to enjoy him in a purely physical way. She was hoping to save Eric’s life, and she feared that Valmy might decide to break his vow to her. By having the man she loved killed, he would remove the barrier which kept her from being his fully.

  She turned to him and said, “It has been ten days, and I haven’t been allowed to visit the emperor as yet.”

  Valmy frowned. “You must be patient.”

  “I have been,” she said. “But I confess it now appears that you are afraid to have me meet him. Is he an impostor?”

  “No,” he said sharply, sitting up a little so that he could look down on her.

  “Then why?”

  “He has been unwell. And the woman with him has turned out to be a problem.”

  “Why not get rid of her?”

  “I would, but he refuses to let her go. He is weary of her, but he fears if he lets her go, we will have her silenced so she cannot brag of her conquest.”

  She stared up into his handsome face. “Would you?”

  “Yes. We would have no choice. We couldn’t risk her talking at this time.”

  “When do you go to Paris?” she asked.

  “As soon as I have word everything is ready there,” he said. “It will begin with a series of political rallies. Our group will storm the people into a fury. Then at just the strategic moment we will appear with Napoleon.”

  “But he is old and weary, so Major Lacoste says,” she pointed out.

  The handsome Valmy sighed. “If I tell you something, will you promise not to repeat it to that old surgeon.”

  “If that is what you want?”

  “Swear!”

  “If you like.”

  “Napoleon is dying.”

  It was her turn to sit up now. “What?”

  “He is dying. One of those pranks which fate plays on us. When he left the island, he was pretending illness. But since then he has become really ill — that damn liver disease which has infected so many who lived on Saint Helena.”

  “My father died of it. In a very short time.”

  “And Napoleon is slowly wasting away and becoming less able to carry out our plan as the days pass.”

  “What can you do?” she asked.

  “I’m trapped,” Valmy admitted. “I cannot hurry the business in Paris. We must wait until the time is right. In the meanwhile I’m having to try and nurse the emperor along.”

  “The major felt he was ill. He offered his services, and Napoleon refused them.”

  “He knows that word about him mustn’t get out,” Valmy worried. “I hav
e doctors looking after him, men whom I can trust.”

  “What about their abilities?”

  “Good enough.”

  “Major Lacoste seems to have special talents. Why must you keep this from him?”

  Valmy gave her a troubled look. “Because Lacoste is of the old guard. The emperor represents everything for him. If he felt Napoleon could not see this plan through, he would abandon it as well. As so would many others of the old army crowd. We need them.”

  “I see,” she said quietly.

  He lay back on the pillow and stared glumly upward. “I only needed the emperor for a few months. By that time I would be established in the eyes of the people. Then I could manage without him.”

  The words bit into her mind. She remembered what Felix Black had told her in London. It was all coming true, though in a rather different way than she had expected.

  She said casually, “You never meant to use him long. You planned he should be eliminated so you could take his place.”

  “But that was different. It threatens everything to have him ill. If he should be unable, to make an appearance in Paris, the whole project is threatened.”

  “You’d rather have him live to die a martyr by an unknown assassin’s bullet and will the throne to you. That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

  “You witch!” he said angrily, reaching out and grasping her wrist and twisting it until she cried out. “What evil spell did you use to come by that information?”

  “It was given to me by Felix Black,” she said.

  “He’s mad!” Valmy said, releasing her wrist. “Your whole theory is mad!”

  “I wonder. You will not let me see the emperor. Are you afraid of what I might say?”

  “Yes,” he told her with a grim smile. “I’ll be more careful than ever to keep you apart now.”

  “You despise my motives and you distrust me,” she said. “Why do you want me around you?”

  He laughed bitterly. “You have a lovely body.”

  “There are many as good available to you at any time,” she said.

  “All right, I’ll confess. It is the combination of your mind and body. You have enchanted me. I still want you as my wife.”

  “You know that is not possible,” she said.

  He sat up. “Would you not like to be the wife of the new emperor of France?”

  She stared at him. “So that is your ambition.”

  “Napoleon was only a corporal, and he gained the throne. I was a general!”

  “And you have the same magic quality, I will not deny that,” she said. “But to be a true ruler, one should have more than mere ambition.”

  “Ambition will suffice for a while,” he said. “Later I can develop the other qualities.” And he got up and put on his robe and left her naked and alone on the big bed.

  His telling her that Napoleon was slowly dying of the same disease which had killed her father had come as a shock. And she could see that Valmy was truly bothered by this unexpected turn of events. The situation had been further complicated by the woman chosen as the emperor’s companion turning out to be an unmanageable drunkard. The emperor’s desire to protect the woman made it impossible for them to get rid of her.

  All was not going as well as Valmy had hoped. And in his musings beside her in the bed he had let drop the plot that had always been his blueprint. He had scheduled the emperor’s death when it would do him the most good. Now the unforunate Napoleon might die before they were able to get the plan under way.

  Napoleon appearing in Paris and seeming ready to take on the duties of emperor again was imperative to Valmy’s scheme. If the emperor were too ill to speak or show himself, the whole plot would be in jeopardy. She must somehow convey the gist of this to Major Lacoste without actually breaking her vow to Valmy.

  She was sick of being confined in the apartment. Valmy had gone as far as to unshutter some of the windows facing the ocean so she could have fresh air and sunshine. But he refused to let her leave the apartment or even venture out in his company. She was still very much a prisoner.

  Not until the following afternoon did the elderly Major Lacoste come to visit her. When he was sure they were alone, he spoke to her in a low, tense tone, “I am finally convinced that Valmy is an utter scoundrel.”

  “There is no question he means to use the emperor,” she agreed.

  “All that Felix Black told you is ture,” the old man said bitterly. “I have been deceived. All of us faithful to Napoleon are being used in a crass manner. The emperor himself is but a puppet in all this.”

  “If he is to be saved, he must be removed from Valmy’s charge,” she said.

  “That will not be easy,” the army surgeon worried. “In fact it is probably impossible.”

  “It should be tried,” she said.

  “I’ll be satisfied for the moment if I can get you free,” Lacoste said. “Valmy is planning to move everyone to Paris in a few days. You should escape before the move is made and alert the other agents in Paris to what is going on!”

  “The problem is that Major Walters and Kingston are also prisoners somewhere. That is why I consented to live here with Valmy. It’s my only hope of saving them. If I run off, he will surely order their execution.”

  “You cannot let that halt you at this time of crisis,” the veteran army surgeon said. “Be sure that they are also making their own escape attempts. They could even be free now.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yes.”

  Betsy said, “Valmy would never tell me as long as my fear for their safety was keeping me with him.”

  “Exactly,” the old one-armed man agreed. “So you must concentrate on a plan for your own escape. I shall try to help you.”

  “If I could get out of this apartment, I would try to find the emperor and warn him!”

  Lacoste shook his head. “There are guards on this door and at the emperor’s door. Guards everywhere! But if you manage to escape, you might in passing be able to get at least a few minutes with the emperor.”

  She looked at him eagerly. “Have you any ideas?”

  “A plan is slowly forming in my mind.”

  “Tell me!” she urged him.

  His lined old face showed concern. “You must not be too impatient,” he said. “Let me develop this. It will begin with your complaining of illness to Valmy.”

  “Will he guess I’m pretending?”

  “No. I shall give you a potion which will make you slightly ill, produce the symptoms of a fever without your actually having any.”

  “And?”

  “Then I will ask his permission to bring in a Venetian doctor or two to consult with me on your case. I will explain that the fever is a rare type particular only to Venice, and thus it will take a Venetian doctor to properly understand your condition and treat it.”

  “It sounds plausible so far,” she said.

  The old man paced up and down as he planned, his hand on his chin. “I will arrange for the doctor to be your rescuer. Either you will don his dress and escape in this disguise or together with his help we will fight our way to freedom.”

  “You will come with us?”

  “I will have no choice,” he said with a shrug. “Once I help you escape, I will no longer be able to remain here. I believe I can do more to help the emperor on the outside.”

  “I’m sure you can,” she agreed. “There is supposed to be a ship waiting off Calais. If we can only get in touch with its captain, the best move would be to somehow get the emperor from Valmy’s custody and have him safely transferred to the ship.”

  Lacoste nodded. “We can work on that next.”

  “When will we begin?” she said.

  “I’ll bring you the potion in an hour or so,” he said. “Take it and by this evening you should be showing symptoms of a fever.”

  “What if he has those other doctors looking after the emperor come to see me?” she worried.

  “Tell him you don’t want them,” t
he army surgeon said. “A female is entitled to her whims — especially when she’s been sharing your bed. Tell him you will only see me.”

  So the project of her escape was set in motion. Lacoste returned with the medicine. She took it as he’d directed, and by the time Valmy returned to dine with her, she gave all the appearance of having a bad fever.

  The handsome dark man was upset at once. He asked her, “How long have you felt like this?”

  “I started to have a headache and chills this morning,” she told him, stretched out in the bed.

  He frowned. “This is bad! Especially as we’ll be taking off for Paris in a day or two. I have a doctor down with the emperor now. When he finishes examining him, I’ll have him come and take a look at you!”

  She shook her head on the pillow. “No! No! I do not want him!”

  Valmy’s handsome face showed frustration. “You must have a doctor!”

  “No, I’ll be all right!” She groaned and closed her eyes.

  “I insist!”

  She opened her eyes again and mournfully said, “If I must have a doctor, bring in Major Lacoste. I know him and respect his talents.”

  “That old man!” Valmy said disgustedly. “I only keep him on because he is popular with the emperor. I do not think him worth anything as a doctor!”

  “I disagree,” she replied firmly. “And if I’m to have a doctor, it must be Dr. Lacoste.”

  Valmy was annoyed. “You’re being unreasonable! The doctor downstairs is younger and has an excellent reputation!”

  “Still I want Dr. Lacoste,” she insisted. “I have not asked much of you.”

  He sighed. “Very well! Since you are so clearly ill, I shall give in to you.”

  “Dear Raymond!” she said with a weary smile.

  He came and sat on the bedside and took her hand in his. “You know how much I care for you. I cannot lose you as we near the moment of our return to Paris. I want you to be well and happy.”

  “This will pass, I’m sure,” she told him.

  He summoned Dr. Lacoste, and the old man appeared and examined her. When he’d finished, he told Valmy, “It is a fever. One I cannot name. The city of Venice is known for its several varieties of fever.”