The Wanton Princess

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘A week or so ago.’

  ‘And what date does it bear?’

  ‘May 30th, if I remember. Anyhow he had been in St. Petersburg for some days when he wrote it.’

  Roger had never felt less like laughing, but he managed a chuckle, ‘Then Your Excellency will admit that it could not possibly have been I he saw. I returned to Paris from the South on June 8th, and you may recall that I attended a reception that you gave that evening. I could not have made the journey from Russia in some ten days unless I’d had a magic carpet. His despatch, you may remark, took nearly six weeks.’

  ‘About that there can be no argument. But, mon cher Colonel, what I should like to know is how you could possibly have been aware that he had written reporting to me his belief that he had seen you in St. Petersburg?’

  Had Roger been confronting anyone other than Talleyrand, or Fouché, he could, in his role of Colonel Breuc, have said that he had heard that his cousin, Roger Brook, had been sent to St. Petersburg and it must have been he that Duroc had seen. But both Talleyrand and Fouché knew that both were one and the same. Now, with a flash of inspiration Roger recalled that, although he rarely used it, he had a third identity.

  ‘You must forgive me,’ he gave another smile, ‘but I must have been woolgathering when you first addressed me, and answered spontaneously impelled by a subconscious memory of a conversation I had some weeks ago with Senhor Pedro Zarolo of the Portuguese Embassy. As Your Excellency may know, before being transferred here early this year he was en poste in London. He mentioned that he had met my cousin Robert McElfic who not long since succeeded his father as Earl of Kildonan, and that he was about to set out on a tour of the northern capitals. McElfic and I are the same age, and said to be as like as two peas. When I last saw him he affected a short curly brown beard, but he may have since shaved it off. However that may be, the moment you said the word “twins”, it flashed into my mind that Duroc must have run into my cousin.’

  Actually Roger had no idea where Senhor Zarolo had been en poste before being sent to Paris, but as he was only a junior diplomat it was unlikely that Talleyrand would know either. And one thing Roger did know was that, as Bonaparte had pushed Spain into declaring war on Portugal, the Portuguese Embassy had recently been withdrawn from Paris; so there was no danger of the congenitally curious Talleyrand checking up on his story.

  ‘ ’Tis strange indeed that Duroc, knowing you so well, should have mistaken him for you,’ Talleyrand remarked. ‘But that is the only possible explanation.’

  His masterly piece of invention having gone over, Roger breathed again. But it had been a most unpleasant episode. After a moment he asked lightly, ‘And what news does the good Duroc send out of Russia?’

  ‘None that bodes well for us,’ the Foreign Minister replied. ‘The young Czar is proving a very different fish from his father. He has lent his ear readily to Pahlen, Panin, Vorontzoff and others of the pro-English party. Russia has already withdrawn from the Northern League and there is even talk of her entering into an alliance with England.’

  Roger hid his satisfaction by putting on his glummest face and making a suitable comment. Then they parted.

  The Concordat with Rome being well under way, the tireless First Consul soon turned his mind to another major undertaking. Before the Revolution the law had differed greatly in the various Governments of France. In Provence and much of the south, Roman law had, in the main, been adhered to, while in Brittany the old laws of that one-time independent Duchy maintained and in the northern governments the laws were still based on ancient tribal customs.

  Throughout the Revolution hundreds of these old laws had been annulled, and hundreds of new ones made, either to bring about equality between all classes or, later, to penalise and persecute the nobility, clergy and rich bourgeoisie.

  During the twenty months that Bonaparte had been First Consul he had caused the most vicious measures to be repealed, restabilised the security of property and put an end to the general lawlessness that had become chronic during the Terror and under the Directory. But the laws concerning business contracts, marriages, inheritance and many other matters remained in an appalling hotchpotch. Bonaparte had determined to reduce this chaos to order and establish a system that would be uniform wherever French writ ran.

  On August 12th he formed a committee of the ablest lawyers in France and set about his greatest work for posterity. For many weeks he attended a high proportion of the committee’s sittings, guiding their deliberations and personally debating points of law with its most learned members. In due course this immense task was completed and the results promulgated as the ‘Code Napoleon,’ a greater monument to Bonaparte’s genius than all his battles.

  Yet during the late summer and autumn these labours did not deter him from making a number of visits to the Channel coast. Measures for the invasion of England had been initiated there over a year earlier but only in a very half-hearted fashion. Now they were gradually taking shape. Roger was of the opinion that they still constituted no serious threat but, with England as France’s only active enemy, ample forces were available to build them up until they would.

  The British Government was well aware of this and of how serious the odds against England had become. The population of Britain was less than eleven million against a manpower controlled by France of forty million. The greater part of the French Army was stationed in countries that France had conquered and their people had to pay for the upkeep of these occupying forces; whereas for the British Army the British people had to foot the whole bill. The cost of the eight years of war had been enormous, so that the British National Debt now amounted to over five hundred million sterling, and the annual expenditure of the nation had risen from nineteen to sixty-one millions; whereas a great part of France’s budget was still being found by indemnities, confiscations and forced loans from the countries she now controlled.

  Worst of all perhaps, Bonaparte’s policy, which was later to develop into his ‘Continental System’, was having a disastrous effect on British trade. By bullying and skilful diplomacy he had succeeded in closing every port from Norway down to Cadiz, and in the western Mediterranean, to British shipping. The great wave of prosperity, brought about by the Industrial Revolution, had been halted and was now receding owing to this loss of all European markets for the sale of British goods.

  In consequence, Roger was not at all surprised when he learned that overtures from Lord Hawkesbury had led to negotiations for a peace; and that Lord Cornwallis, assisted by Mr. Anthony Merry of the Foreign Office, had entered into conversations with Joseph Bonaparte, behind whom stood Talleyrand.

  On October 1st preliminaries for a Peace were signed in London. Roger knew no details of them, as most of the talks had taken place in Amiens, but he assumed that their basis would be similar to those he had taken to London in the last week of ’99, although somewhat less favourable to Britain owing to Bonaparte’s having since so greatly strengthened his position.

  Early in December, winter having set in and the weather become most inclement, he decided that he could now use that as an excuse to take a holiday, and carry out a promise he had made Georgina to spend Christmas again at Stillwaters. Owing to the good progress being made with the peace negotiations Bonaparte had allowed the preparations in the Channel ports to come almost to a standstill; so when Roger told him that his weak lungs were again troubling him, his master made no objection to his request for indefinite leave to spend the worst months in the south of France.

  That settled, he took his usual precautions for obscuring his departure from Paris, changed out of uniform into civilian clothes and made his way to a village near Dieppe, from where one of his old smuggler friends, for a good round sum in gold, put him safely across one dark night to Dungeness.

  In London he spent several nights with Droopy Ned, and again frequented White’s, of which he was a member. As opposed to Brook’s, the stronghold of the Foxites just across the road, most of the mem
bers of the Club were ardent Tories. Many of them had been among Pitt’s staunchest supporters and had been sorry to see him go but, almost to a man, they were now behind Addison in his conviction that Britain should agree to make peace provided Bonaparte’s terms were not too unreasonable.

  Two days before Christmas Roger went down to Stillwaters with a load of toys for the children and handsome presents for Georgina, her husband and her father. Again it proved a royally happy festive season. Having seen in the New Year of 1802 there, on January 2nd both Georgina and Roger removed to London. He again occupied his room in Amesbury House, but most nights it was not until the early hours of the morning that he left Georgina’s big bed to be carried back from Berkeley Square to Arlington Street in a sedan chair preceded by a running footman holding aloft a smoking flambeau.

  By the end of January it was the longest period they had spent together for several years and, far from tiring of one another, they revelled in each other’s company. So often the same thoughts came to them at the same time, they laughed hilariously together at the same absurd trifles, and spent such joyous nights in each other’s arms that, at the end of the month, both of them were most loath to relinquish their intimate and perfect companionship. In consequence, although it was Georgina’s custom to spend the whole of the Spring at Stillwaters, she agreed to come to London again early in March.

  Roger spent February in Brighton. The town had not yet become the favourite resort of all England’s fashionable world, but the day was not far distant when it would have its Royal Pavilion, the splendid terraces facing the esplanade, and become known as ‘London by the Sea’; for the Prince of Wales and his friends already spent much of their time there.

  The Prince’s tutor, Bishop Hurd, had said of him at the age of fifteen that he would be ‘either the most polished gentleman or the most accomplished blackguard in Europe—possibly both,’ and the Bishop had proved an excellent prophet. In reaction to the cheeseparing economies that his mean mother inflicted on the Royal Households the Prince had early indulged in wild extravagance. Again and again he had got hopelessly into debt and resorted to the meanest shifts to stave off his creditors.

  He was by nature profligate, and the Opposition, led by Fox and Sheridan, who were also rakes and inveterate gamblers, had flattered and encouraged him for their political ends. This, together with his morganatic marriage to the talented actress Maria FitzHerbert who was a Roman Catholic, had led to a life-long quarrel with his father. In ’87 his creditors had become so pressing that he had had to shut up Carlton House, his London mansion, and go to live with Mrs. FitzHerbert at Brighton.

  Then, the following year, King George had been afflicted with his first period of insanity, so, with great reluctance, Pitt had a Bill passed making the Prince temporarily Regent, but the Tory government took steps to restrict his powers as far as possible. In February ’89, to the fury of the Foxites, the King’s recovery had put an end to the Regency, so the Prince soon found himself in straitened circumstances again. By ’94 his debts had become enormous and as the price of paying them his father insisted that he should marry Princess Charlotte of Brunswick. She proved to be a flippant and self-willed young woman and he intensely resented having been forced into marrying her. In consequence they soon ceased to live together and he returned to Mrs. FitzHerbert.

  In the eyes of the great hereditary nobles of England the Hanoverian Princes were no more than parvenu upstarts and, since the Prince of Wales’s conduct in several cases had been despicable, many of them refused to know him. Roger, too, as a staunch Tory, looked with ill favour on the Prince and his Whig cronies who, during the war, had so frequently hampered and attempted to sabotage measures that were in the best interests of Britain. But a friend of his named Lord Alvanley insisted on presenting him, and he had to admit that the Prince was a most genial companion with great charm of manner.

  Although Brighton could not offer the warm sunshine to which Roger was used when in the south of France, its climate in February was infinitely preferable to that of rain-sodden London. While there he rode, walked and, following his custom whenever facilities were available, spent a lot of time at a fencing school and a pistol gallery to keep himself in good practice should he happen to be called on to use his weapons. At the end of the month he returned to London and two days later Georgina arrived at Berkeley Square.

  Again for the first three weeks of that month they romped, laughed and loved, interspersing their nights of private delight by attending balls and routs together. But on the 26th Georgina had to leave London to make arrangements for a big party she was giving at Stillwaters on her husband’s birthday, the 30th. Roger was, of course, invited and arrived there on the evening of the 29th.

  To the surprise of his host and hostess, when he greeted them his face was as black as thunder. When they asked him the reason for his ill humour he replied, ‘A peace with France was signed two days ago in Amiens and its terms have just been made public.’

  On entering the room Roger had noticed that John Beefy had failed to give him his usual warm smile; but at the announcement Beefy’s face instantly brightened and he exclaimed, ‘Peace at last! Hurrah for that! We’ll get up our best wine this night to celebrate.’

  Roger gave him a black look, ‘Then I’ll not drink it. On the way here I have been mulling over what it means to England, and the more I think on it the more I’m horrified.’

  ‘Nonsense, man!’ replied Beefy with a laugh. ‘Peace is peace and ’tis that the country needs. To the devil with the terms, say I. With our commerce running at full spate again, whatever they be we’ll soon regain our prosperity.’

  Roger had formed a mild but indifferent liking for John Beefy, because he was such a kind and transparently honest fellow. That apart, he felt for him the faint contempt of a man who had achieved great things in the world, talked familiarly with Princes and defied Prime Ministers, for one who was of mediocre mind, knew nothing of great affairs and had never lifted a finger in the service of his country. Rounding on him, he snapped:

  ‘Does it mean nothing to you that our weak-kneed Prime Minister has given away all our conquests made these last eight years except for Trinidad and Ceylon? That many thousands of British lives have been sacrificed for the declared purpose of restoring to their rights the Bourbon Princes, the King of Sardinia and the Statholder of Holland, and that these monarchs are now not even to receive one penny of compensation for the loss of their realms? That having sent an expedition to reconquer Egypt, we are to recall it? Yes, and that we are even to give up Malta, the key to the Mediterranean?’

  ‘Oh come,’ Beefy expostulated mildly. ‘Such matters are of small account compared to our having peace and the opportunity again to trade freely. And your criticism of Mr. Addison I count most unjust. In this he has served our country far better than did Mr. Pitt.’

  At that Roger’s gorge rose and he cried angrily, ‘You imbecile! What do you know of such matters? How dare you belittle the greatest Prime Minister that Britain has ever had? The man who has worn himself to a shadow mobilising Europe to resist the hideous octopus arising out of the French Revolution and preserved our liberties. Dam’me. You know nothing and care for nothing apart from the selling of your sugar bags.’

  ‘Roger!’ exclaimed Georgina sharply. ‘You go too far!’

  John Beefy’s face had gone a deeper shade of red. At the same moment he burst out, ‘Mr. Brook, I resent your imputation. ’Tis more than enough that I should have to put up with the association between you and my wife. Oh, I know about that, and your attentions to her while she is in London are more assiduous than can be justified by however long a friendship. Servants talk, you know. And while I have remained complaisant out of my great affection for her, I’d been of a mind to tell you after tomorrow night that I consider it most unseemly that, as her lover, you should frequent this house.’

  Georgina, now very flushed, swiftly intervened, ‘John! Before we married it was understood between us that wh
en I went to London I should be free to lead my life as I pleased. I’ll neither confirm nor deny your allegations against Roger. But this is not your house; ’tis mine. And I’ll have whom I will to stay in it. Even so, I am with you that Roger has behaved most unbecomingly towards you. He will apologise and that is to be the end of the matter.’

  Never before had Roger seen John Beefy even approach losing his temper. Realising now that he had every justification for doing so, he regained control of himself and said quietly, ‘I pray you forgive me, John. I had become overwrought by brooding on this terrible peace that has been imposed upon England. As for myself and Georgina, I plan shortly to go abroad again; but if it is your wish I will depart now and send my seconds to you.’

  Beefy shrugged his broad shoulders, ‘I accept your apology for the slur upon my patriotism. But as an honest merchant unused to handling weapons I’d be out of my senses to engage in a duel with a professional killer. Regarding Georgina’s claim that I’d not call into question any associations she might form during her stays in London, she is in the right. But for her to expect me to sit at table with her lover is another matter.’ Drawing himself up so stiffly that he looked slightly ridiculous, the injured husband stalked from the room.

  Georgina and Roger stared ruefully at one another for a moment, then they both began to laugh and he said, ‘How prodigious pompous he was. Head in air and his back as stiff as a ramrod. But there it is, we are caught out.’

  ‘Alas, yes,’ she chuckled. ‘If only he could have seen himself as the honest merchant looking down his nose at the professional killer. But ’tis no laughing matter. He is a dear fellow and loves me to distraction. One cannot wonder that knowing you now to be my lover he cannot bear having you in the house.’

  Roger shrugged, ‘In the world to which we have been used a few husbands elect to defend their honour, but most accept such a situation gracefully. Since he’ll do neither, what’s to be done? Shall I order that my bags be repacked and get me hence?’