Vintage Love

by Clarissa Ross

  “I could not have done anything without your help,” she said.

  “Had a bad evening when you didn’t return that night in Naples,” Kingston said.

  “I can imagine.”

  “With Eric and you both gone, I didn’t know which way to turn. Then Raj Singh came staggering back to the hotel to let me know what had happened to you,” the actor told her.

  Excitedly she asked, “So he lived! Did he recover?”

  “That Indian is difficult to kill,” Kingston said with a broad smile. “I expect we shall be meeting him again in Paris.”

  Eric spoke up, “I managed to escape from the dungeon in which they were holding me the following night. But by that time you were out at sea.”

  “It’s a miracle that you found me at all,” she marveled.

  “Valmy’s operation is growing. He has so many agents now that he’s attracting attention. I was told that someone had taken over that particular palace and placed guards all around it and in it. I deduced it had to be Valmy,” Eric said.

  “But it wasn’t until the one-armed man came to us and offered to get us inside that we had a plan,” Kingston said.

  “I shall always owe Major Lacoste a great debt,” she said with deep feeling in her voice.

  Soon it was time to retire in preparation for their long drive the following day. When they went up to their rooms, a discreet Kingston left them alone. And on this night it was Betsy and Eric who shared a bed. At last she was again with the man she truly loved.

  Chapter Fifteen

  IT WAS raining and the streets of Paris were almost empty of people. Closed carriages and wagons rumbled over the cobblestoned streets and through great puddles of water, sending drops splashing high. Betsy was in one of the carriages with Kingston. She had gone out to do some needed shopping for clothes, and Eric had insisted that the actor accompany her.

  She gazed out the window at the drab brick buildings and the storefronts. They all looked good to her. Just to be free was a luxury to be enjoyed after her long spell as a prisoner. She felt that they were near the end of the adventure on which she had embarked so recklessly. And she was anxious to return to London with Eric and lead a quiet married life!

  Enough of adventure! Eric had professed an interest in going into a profession. He had a friend engaged in the import business from the Far East who had offered him help. Being a secret agent was not a proper career for a man with a wife. George Frederick Kingston longed for Covent Garden and Drury Lane and the backstage gossip of the theatrical pubs. He was more than ready to resume his career as a small-time actor.

  But there was still work to finish! The climax would come when Napoleon was brought to Paris. Valmy must be close to the great capital now. None of them could truly relax until the final act of the drama was played out.

  The journey from Venice to Paris had been a long and tiring one. They had been in Paris for forty-eight hours and were living in a modest pension not far from the Champs Elysées. Whether it was being with Eric again and the romantic mood this created in her or whether it was the beauty and charm of the city itself, she was convinced that Paris was an enchanted place.

  Eric had to remind her that this languid city of serene beauty had not long ago seen the extravagant cruelties of the French Revolution. It had known the First Empire of Napoleon and was now content under a Louis again, paying homage to a king with the same name as the one they had so grimly beheaded.

  Paris was blooming again under the new king. Even in a spring rain such as they were experiencing now, it was a lovely place. She did not want to see it drenched in blood still another time. If Valmy had his way with his planned new revolution, not only Paris but all France would be torn asunder. And after that it could be all Europe in a turmoil for a decade!

  Just at the moment they were waiting. They had not been contacted by any of the other agents yet. Eric was worried, as he had expected to meet Raj Singh at the pension. But thus far there had been no sign of the Indian. She glanced across the carriage and saw that the veteran actor was nodding. A lurch of the vehicle, and he quickly opened his eyes.

  “I do believe I dozed off,” he said apologetically. “Are we near our lodging place?”

  “Soon,” she said. And she lapsed back into silence again. She was thinking of Valmy and her having been his mistress. Eric had chosen to black this all out and treat it as if it had never happened. She knew that while it was generous of him, it was also an example of the thinking of a secret agent. He considered her survival more important than anything else, and she had managed that.

  Valmy had been a proficient lover. Had the circumstances been different, she might have wound up giving her heart to him as well as her body. But because of Eric she had been unable to feel love for the charming adventurer. Yet he had stirred something in her beyond a casual few moments of passion. She knew she would always remember him.

  He was that mixture of villain and gentleman which had confused countless maidens from the beginning of the time of romance. She had known him as a lover, and she had also seen glimpses of his dark side when he abandoned every principle to his thirst for power! She much feared that this evil part of his nature would gain full sway as he lived longer, so that in the end there would only be his devouring ambition.

  What would have happened if she’d been given positive proof that Eric had been executed? She was not sure. She knew there was a large possibility she might have turned to Valmy in her sorrow and given him her full love. Even knowing that he was not a good man, she would have been satisfied with his charm and knowing that he cared for her.

  She tried to imagine what his reaction had been when he’d returned to find her gone and discover the havoc she’d created in her escape. Would he only be angered and frustrated — feel nothing but rage and fear that she would use all she knew against his cause? Or would he feel more? Perhaps the pain of losing someone truly loved? For she felt, despite all, that in his perverse way he had loved her.

  “Will you be my wife?” he had pleaded with her.

  The words came back to her all too vividly. There had been love of a sort between them, but basically they were enemies. And now they would be pitted against each other once again for the final struggle.

  Kingston smiled at her. “A penny for your thoughts?”

  “Offer me no less than a pound and I’ll tell you,” she said with a sad smile.

  He grimaced. “Expensive thoughts! I’ll have to be content with my own.”

  The carriage halted before the plain red brick building which housed their pension. Kingston paid the driver and helped her in with her parcels. Their landlady greeted them with smiles and the news that luncheon was ready and Monsieur Walters already at the table.

  Later they joined him at the long table in the pension’s dining room. He looked tense but managed a smile for them, asking, “How did your shopping tour turn out?”

  Kingston beamed at him. “I tell you she has a knack for bargains. You’ll be lucky to have her as a wife, my boy.”

  “I consider myself lucky in any case,” Eric said. “But to know that she is a smart shopper as well as a beauty is truly good news.”

  “Kingston exaggerates,” she said. “I just happened to find some very low-priced things I could use.”

  “Too bad the rain started,” Eric said, glancing at her over his plate of delicious-looking sole.

  She said, “We were able to get a carriage almost at once, so the rain didn’t bother us.” She paused, then asked, “Any word?”

  Eric nodded. “Yes.”

  There was something in his tone which warned her of trouble. She said, “Tell me.”

  He glanced at them. “It is not the most pleasant subject for the luncheon table.”

  “Please tell us,” she urged him.

  “Yes. We’re not all that delicate,” Kingston said.

  Eric hesitated and frowned. “You know that I have been expecting word from Raj Singh?”

  “Of
course,” she said. “It’s strange he hasn’t turned up before this.”

  “No. It is not,” the man she loved said with a grim look on his pleasant face. “Raj Singh was found with his throat slit in an alley last night.”

  “Poor man!” she exclaimed with sorrow.

  “He was trying to ferret out where Valmy was to have his headquarters here,” Eric said. “He thought he had a contact. His contact was the enemy. So now he’s truly dead.”

  “A sad loss for our side,” George Frederick Kingston said.

  “Without question,” Eric agreed. “I learned of his death through one of Captain Gray’s men who had been with him for a while and came back to meet him only to find him dead.”

  Betsy asked, “Who is Captain Gray?”

  “The skipper of the vessel waiting off the coast to take Napoleon on board,” Eric said. “He’s a fine American gentleman, if a little impatient.”

  “Is he here in Paris now?” Kingston wanted to know.

  “He’s been here several days. He planned to take the former emperor to the coast in the company with several of his men. But he’s becoming upset about the long waiting period. Valmy is behind in his schedule.”

  “Likely because of Napoleon’s delicate state of health,” Betsy said. “The brief glimpse I had of him showed him to be much too ill to travel far in a day.”

  “His condition would slow the caravan,” Eric agreed.

  “So what do we do now?” Kingston asked.

  “Wait for Valmy to arrive. I expect further instructions from London before then,” the man she loved said.

  Betsy speculated, “I wonder what the state of Felix Black’s health may be. He was also ill when we left London.”

  “Not good, I’m afraid,” Eric said.

  “Thin bloke,” Kingston recalled. “Not an ounce of fat on his bones, I would say.”

  Eric said, “We’ll simply have to learn to have that patience which Captain Gray is so short of. We may have a long wait.”

  After dinner she went up to the room she shared with Eric to read. She was seated by a rose-bowled lamp on a small table enjoying her book when Eric came into the room. She could tell at once that he had something of importance on his mind.

  She put aside the book and rose. “What is it?”

  “You must come downstairs,” he said. “I have asked our landlady for the use of her parlor. We are having a meeting.”

  “We?”

  “Several of us.”

  “Very well,” she said, wondering if he were joking or if others of the secret agents had made their appearance.

  They went down the shadowed stairway together. She said, “The rain seems to have ended.”

  “Yes, it has,” he agreed. “We’ll probably get some good weather for a few days. Valmy should arrive shortly. He will make better time without the rain.”

  They reached the parlor door, and he opened it. Inside stood Kingston, Dr. Edward Barry O’Meara, and a dignified man in naval uniform. They all gave their attention to her.

  Eric said, “My fiancée, Miss Betsy Chapman, also a member of our organization.” He turned to her. “You know O’Meara. This is Captain Gray.”

  Captain Gray bowed and shook hands with her. He had a weathered, thin face and gray side-whiskers. He said, “I have heard of your beauty, miss. If I had a man capable of carving mastheads, you would adorn my bow.”

  “That is a most gracious compliment, Captain,” she said with a smile.

  It was Barry O’Meara’s turn to step forward. He said, “I told you we’d meet again.”

  “I’m glad to see you,” she said.

  The Irish doctor gave Eric a knowing look and went on, “You’ll also be glad to know that thanks to the persuasion of Felix Black, I have come to believe in the sincerity of your group. And I have agreed to work along with you rather than against you.”

  “That is indeed good news,” she said. “We can use such a strong new member after losing Raj Singh.”

  “Most unfortunate,” Captain Gray agreed.

  Eric brought a chair forward for her to be seated and said, “Let us all make ourselves comfortable, gentlemen. We have a great deal to discuss.”

  Dr. O’Meara sat next to her and asked, “Is it true you have seen the emperor?”

  “Yes.”

  “How is he?”

  “In poor condition,” she said. “He has the liver disease. And he has aged in a shocking manner.”

  O’Meara shook his head sadly. “And this is the man Valmy would put on the throne!”

  “Not so,” Eric told the Irish doctor. “He means to put himself on the throne. Napoleon is just his means of getting there.”

  “So what now?” O’Meara asked.

  “I have information Valmy and his group arrive in Paris tomorrow,” Eric said. “But I have no idea where his headquarters will be.”

  “Raj Singh was working on that,” Captain Gray said.

  “So we must begin again,” Eric commented.

  Betsy asked, “Since this planned revolution is of much consequence to the present ruler, shouldn’t he and his government be informed?”

  O’Meara jumped up in anger. “I’m against that! If we can’t manage it on our own, then there’s no hope. Put Louis and his troops on the alert, and Paris will become an armed city. They will descend on Valmy, and both he and Napoleon will be whisked off to prison and presently executed.”

  Captain Gray sighed. “If we propose to save the former emperor, it does not seem likely we can afford to notify the authorities here.”

  Eric said, “The chances are they wouldn’t take us seriously if we told them of the threat. They are singularly naïve about such things.”

  “So we must work alone?” Kingston phrased this as a question.

  “I say so,” Meara said, siting down again. “If we can get the emperor away from Valmy, it will be like leaving a shell without a fuse.”

  Eric agreed. “Without the emperor there can be no successful new revolution.”

  He had barely finished speaking when the door of the parlor opened and a familiar figure in shabby dark clothing came in. It was Felix Black, master spy, thinner even than before and leaning on a stick as he walked feebly to the center of the room.

  “Good evening,” he said. “I trust my arrival has not upset you too greatly.”

  Eric rose to greet their leader. “We are delighted to see you!”

  “Of course!” Betsy chimed in.

  Felix Black smiled in his bleak fashion. “I felt I could not be out at the end of this last chance. So like a veteran huntsman hobbling to his last following the hounds, I have come to Paris.”

  O’Meara offered him a chair, “Please sit down, sir.”

  Captain Gray’s stern face had even lighted up. “Good to see you again, Black. I’m having a bad time here. That Valmy is keeping us all waiting.”

  Felix Black seated himself carefully and placed his black top hat on the floor beside his chair. Looking for all the world like a grim schoolmaster, he studied them in turn.

  “You’ve all survived, save Raj Singh,” he said. “My congratulations.”

  “It has been touch and go several times,” George Frederick Kingston informed him. “I shall never consider a stage spy drama exaggerated again. More happens in reality!”

  The old master spy nodded approvingly. “You have been an apt student, Kingston!”

  “Thank you, sir,” the actor said looking pleased.

  Felix Black fixed his eyes on Betsy. “And so you saw the emperor for a few moments?”

  “Only for a very brief time, sir,” she said.

  “You believe he is truly Napoleon?”

  “Yes.”

  “The report says you found him ill and prematurely old.”

  “That is true.”

  “Is he well enough to carry through Valmy’s plan?”

  “That is hard to say,” she told the man in black. “I would be skeptical of any other man. But N
apoleon is no ordinary mortal.”

  Felix Black nodded grimly. “I agree with your judgment of the situation. It is all too likely that he will survive long enough to be shown to the people and to get Valmy in power. Then Valmy can have him executed without anyone aware that he is removing a dying man from his path to glory!”

  O’Meara said angrily, “I’d like to get my hands around Valmy’s fine throat for just a few moments!”

  “I’m sure you would do well,” the ailing master spy said. “But the chances of your having that opportunity are unfortunately few.”

  Eric asked, “What do you think will happen next?”

  “Valmy will arrive tomorrow,” Felix Black said. “You will pick up the threads which were severed with Raj Singh’s death. You will work through the night if need be to learn where Valmy is taking the emperor.”

  “Yes, sir,” Eric nodded.

  “You O’Meara will make a round of the taverns where Valmy’s agents are known to gather and find out what you can by eavesdropping,” Felix Black said.

  “Cannot I have a more active role?” O’Meara pleaded.

  “You will find your assignment active enough if you should be recognized,” the master spy said. “You know what happened to Raj Singh.”

  Captain Gray spoke up. “My men have picked up word here and there. They say there have been underground political meetings in the back rooms of some of the taverns.”

  “Valmy’s men have been busy preparing the way,” Felix Black said.

  “What are my duties to be, sir?” Kingston asked.

  “Assist Major Walters in any way you can,” Black told him. “You two seem to work well together. And now if you will all be on your way, I have some private conversation I would make with Miss Chapman.”

  Eric rose and Betsy also got to her feet and faced him Concern in her voice, she said, “Do be careful!”

  “I will,” he promised. “You will be safe here with Black.”

  “I’ll be waiting your return,” she said.

  They all straggled out, with Dr. Edward Barry O’Meara the last to leave. He offered her a wry look before, he closed the door after him. Now she and the old master spy were alone.