The Ravishing of Lady Mary Ware

by Dennis Wheatley

  The little house was looked after by a couple named Velot. During the Terror, Roger had paid their wages and, in those dark days when food was scarce and expensive, seen to it that they lacked for nothing. In consequence, they had become devoted to him, and looked after his welfare as though he were a cherished son.

  The Velots were old now, but they received Roger and Georgina with surprise and joy. Madame Velot killed a chicken, and got out her most treasured preserves for their supper; while her husband lit a fire in the best bedroom and filled warming pans for the big bed. An hour and a half later, the two life-long lovers lay in it, naked, embraced and without a care in the world.

  5

  The Imperial Divorce

  Next morning Roger duly reported to Marshal Berthier, Prince de Neuchâtel. The only virtue of this ugly little man, whose head was too big for his body, and who made himself ridiculous by wearing fantastic uniforms of his own design, was that, in all history, no soldier had ever equalled him as an efficient Chief of Staff. His great, top-heavy head was packed with facts and figures. He could, from day to day, give the effective strength of every division in the Army, and the position of every unit. He could plan the movement of vast masses of troops across hundreds of miles of country, without their jamming the roads or running short of food and ammunition. At the criticial stage of a campaign, he was capable of going without sleep for several days on end. As he was habitually rude and dictatorial to the other Marshals, all of whom were junior to him, he was far from popular. But, knowing Roger to be a level-headed and competent assistant, he greeted him with a fair show of politeness.

  The following day the Emperor set off for Vienna, as usual travelling at great speed, with frequent relays of picked horses. As he was not going on a campaign, he left Berthier behind him, to plan the transfer from Austria of the divisions that had been earmarked for Spain. This meant for Roger many hours spent working out endless calculations; but he managed to find time to pay his respects to such members of the Imperial Family as were in Paris.

  First he waited on Josephine. On one occasion she had saved his life, and on another saved him from imprisonment; while on two occasions he had saved her marriage, so they were very close friends and, in private, she always treated him without ceremony. As he felt certain that by now she must know that she was to be divorced, he had dreaded her raising the subject, but she made no mention of it. On the other hand, as Lisala had been one of Josephine’s ladies-in-waiting, before his departure Napoleon had told her about the affair at Schloss Langenstein, so she made him give her a full account of it. When he had done so, she said:

  ‘What ill fortune for you that you should have married such a terrible woman. Of course, I greatly admired her beauty; but there was something about those big, widely-spaced eyes she had that made me vaguely distrustful of her. I am so glad that you are now free, and hope that you may soon find another wife more worthy of you.’

  His next call was on Madame Mère. Napoleon’s mother was a tall, gaunt, once-handsome woman, deeply religious, and parsimonious from the belief that her great son’s Empire might not last; so that one day he and her other children would need the money she saved out of the huge income he gave her. She had great courage, despised all pomp, was very shrewd, but of limited intelligence and lived only for her family. Many people dreaded her sharp tongue, but she had always treated Roger pleasantly.

  Joseph, the Emperor’s elder brother, was in Spain. He had, until the summer of 1808, been King of Naples, but Napoleon had sent for him and, without even asking him, insisted on his mounting the Spanish throne.

  Of the younger brothers, the firebrand Lucien had quarrelled with Napoleon and was living in self-imposed exile in Rome. Louis, having been pushed unwillingly into marrying Josephine’s only daughter, Hortense de Beauhamais, had been made King of Holland; while the youngest, Jerome, was now King of Westphalia.

  However, two of Napoleon’s sisters were in Paris: Caroline and Pauline. Caroline was the wife of the dashing cavalry leader, Joachim Murat, who had replaced Joseph on the throne of Naples. She was by far the cleverest of the family: a scheming, boundlessly ambitious woman, with pretensions to being knowledgeable about literature. She owned a unique collection of bawdy books.

  Pauline, the beauty of the family, was as licentious as she was lovely. She was Napoleon’s favourite sister and the only one of the brood who had a real affection for him. She had had many lovers; and, seven years earlier, Roger had had a hectic affaire with her. It had ended with her marriage to Prince Borghese and, to her fury, being ordered by Napoleon to live with her husband in Italy. For some while she had been back in Paris, and lived in a magnificent mansion, which she had furnished with great taste; but her health had been undermined by a disease she had contracted while in San Domingo, and Roger found her sadly changed.

  As every member of the Bonaparte family, with the exception of Napoleon, detested Josephine on account of her superior birth, both the Princesses retailed to Roger with high delight all the rumours they had heard, which now made it as good as certain that their brother intended to divorce her.

  On October 14th, the Peace of Schönbrunn was signed, by Champaguy, Duc de Cadore, who had succeeded Talleyrand as Foreign Minister, and Prince Metternich; by the 20th Napoleon was back in France and arrived at Fontainebleau. With him came the news that, while at Schönbrunn, a young fanatic named Slaps had attempted to assassinate him. Before the attempt could made, Colonel Count Rapp had taken from the youth a long knife. Staps, who was perfectly sane, had then shouted that Napoleon was the curse of his Fatherland and, when offered pardon, told the Emperor that, if freed, he would again try to kill him.

  At Fontainebleau, poor Josephine’s marriage received its mortal blow. When she was about to go to her husband’s bedroom, she found that he had had a doorway in the passage leading to it bricked up.

  Now that the peace had at last been signed, there was a whole series of official celebrations, and Le Moniteur gazetted a long list of honours. For their special services in the campaign, Prince of Wagram was added to Berthier’s titles, and Davout, Duc d’Auerstadt was made Prince d’Eckmühl, while Masséna was raised to Prince d’Essling.

  The Kings of Holland, Westphalia and Naples all came to Paris, and many other royalties who now owed allegiance to Napoleon. But for these splendid fetes, parades and fireworks the ordinary people no longer showed their old enthusiasm. Even the double celebration on November 25th of the anniversary of the Emperor’s coronation and the victory of Austerlitz failed to draw from the crowds the frantic cheering with which the Emperor had been greeted in former years.

  Roger’s position as a friend of numerous people close to the Emperor enabled him to keep abreast with the moves in the matter that was now uppermost in everybody’s mind. On November 30th, Napoleon and Josephine parted. Their leave-taking was prolonged, and heart-rending on both sides.

  She had married him only because she had been persuaded to do so by her former lover, the then powerful Barras. After only a single night with her, Napoleon had been compelled to set out to take over the command of the Army of Italy, and she had promptly been unfaithful to him. Again, during the many months he had spent in Egypt, she had carried on openly an affair with a handsome army contractor, named Hippolyte Charles. Yet, later she had come to love her husband deeply, and was caused great distress by his infidelities.

  He, on the other hand, during the early years of their marriage had loved her to distraction and, although he had arrogated to himself the right to take as a mistress any woman who temporarily appealed to him, he had never ceased to sleep with her frequently, and often she read him to sleep.

  He had elevated her to the position of the First Lady in Europe, grudged her nothing and smothered her with jewels. For her part, she had been an immense help to him because, as an ex-aristocrat, she had been capable of reigning over his Court with dignity, graciousness and charm.

  At their parting he had not disguised the fact th
at he was desperately loath to put her from him, and did so only because he could not bring himself to forgo his ambition to form a dynasty. She was to receive a huge pension and live at Malmaison, the beautiful private home that she had nearly ruined him by buying while he was abroad and still only young General Bonaparte.

  Even so, Roger wondered how she would manage to maintain it, for she was boundlessly extravagant. It had been estimated that, during the five years she had been Empress, she had spent the equivalent of a quarter of a million pounds on clothes alone.

  On December 16th, the Senate formally decreed the divorce.

  That night Roger again asked his master for leave to go to the South of France, and it was granted; so having spent the following day tidying up the work on which he had been employed, and drawing a considerable sum from the Paymaster’s office, he drove out to Passy in a high good humour.

  During the past seven weeks, his attendance on the Emperor at State functions, gala nights at the Opera and balls given by numerous Ambassadors, had prevented him from being with Georgina as frequently as he would have wished. But he had managed to spend two or three nights a week with her. Realising his situation, she had not complained, but resigned herself to the quiet life, made pleasant by every comfort the good Velots could devise for her, and amused herself by again taking up her hobby of painting.

  Now, on hearing Roger’s news, she joyfully embraced him and cried happily, ‘At last, then, we shall be able to spend all our days together, and soon get back to England!’

  Kissing her fondly, he replied, ‘Yes, my love. We’ll be together; but I have other plans for our immediate future, should you approve them. ’Tis now much too late for us to get home for Christmas and, much as you long to see your Charles, within a few weeks he will be returning to Eton. At this time of year England, with its cold, rain and mud, is a dreary place. Why, therefore, should we hurry to it when, instead, we could enjoy the sunshine at my little chateau near St. Maxime?’

  After considering for a moment, she said, ‘Dear Roger, you are right. ’Twill be a splendid opportunity to enjoy a honeymoon before, instead of after we are married.’

  Next day in Paris he paid farewell visits to Talleyrand and a number of his other friends. He also called on an ex-brother A.D.C., the Comte de Lavelette, who had been made Minister of Posts, and asked him to expedite a letter he had written the previous night. It was to a couple named Dufour who, although he went to his little château very infrequently, he had arranged to have paid a good salary regularly, to keep the place in order for him. In the letter he said that he would shortly be arriving with his wife, and that everything must be made ready for their reception.

  On the 18th they said good-bye to the Velots and set off in a comfortable travelling coach that Roger had bought the day before. Their route lay through Fontainebleau, Auxerre, Chalons, Lyons, Valence, Avignon and Aix, then by the inland road that ran parallel to the coast in the direction of Nice. The distance was something over five hundred miles, but they travelled by easy stages, so that they had time to visit the buildings of historic interest in the cities through which they passed. The inns at which they stayed were comfortable and, as since the days of Louis XIV the French had been famed for their cooking, Georgina enjoyed for the first time many of the excellent local dishes.

  But there were several occasions on which she was saddened by what was happening in the towns and villages. Moncey’s gendarmes, assisted by troops who cordoned off inhabited areas, were ruthlessly hunting down deserters. Youngsters and quite elderly men alike were being dragged from houses and farms, and hauled off to the nearest barracks, regardless of the tears and pathetic pleading of their women folk. Even a game leg from an old wound received in battle, or the loss of one eye, did not save them from enforced re-enlistment as cannon fodder for the Emperor.

  When they reached their destination, the Dufours greeted them cheerfully, and they had proved good stewards during Roger’s long absence. The house was clean and orderly, the furniture had been kept polished and they had filled every available vase with carnations. With appreciation, but furtively, they eyed the beautiful Georgina; for the last time Roger had brought a lady to the house as his ‘wife’, she had been, although they had remained ignorant of her true identity, the equally lovely Princess Pauline, not long since the widow of her first husband, General Leclerc.

  They had arrived on the last day of December, so were able to celebrate the coming in of the year 1810 with a dish of freshly-caught lobsters, forced asparagus and peaches, washed down with a magnum of champagne. Both of them were in excellent health and took such joy of each other that they remained in bed together for the whole of New Year’s Day.

  Next morning, when Roger took his beloved round his small domain, she was delighted with it. There was no garden in the English sense, but masses of flowers, a hothouse in which an old gardener grew peaches and pineapples, orange, lemon and mandarin trees on which the fruit was already ripening, and a little vineyard. A still greater attraction was the blue sea dappled with sunshine, and the long beach of golden sand which, as the house lay some distance from the town, was nearly always deserted.

  Roger had always sent generous contributions to the local charities, and the church. Moreover, as one of the Emperor’s A.D.C.s and a hero of the Army, the people of the district accounted it an honour that, at times, he should reside among them. In consequence, he was informed by Dufour that the citizens of St. Maxime intended to come out to the château and welcome his new wife. The same thing had happened when he had brought Pauline there, and he had awaited the demonstration with considerable anxiety; but fortunately no-one had realised that she was Napoleon’s sister. Preparations were hastily put in hand: a large supply of food got in, a cask of good wine from the vineyard broached, and tables set up on the terrace, which had a fine view of the bay.

  In due course the crowd, headed by the Mayor and the Curé, arrived. Addresses of welcome were read by both, and a little girl presented to Georgina a huge bouquet. Roger replied, and took the occasion to announce that he and his wife were on their honeymoon, so wished to be excused from offering or accepting any invitations. This in no way damped the cheerfulness of his self-invited guests. A good time was had by all, and it was not until late in the evening that the last of them, a little unsteady after the amount of wine they had consumed, happily took their departure.

  The lovers then entered on a halcyon existence. For over eight weeks they lazed in the sunshine, strolled hand in hand among the vineyards and olive groves, rode up into the hills, or picnicked on the beach. Long ago, as a boy at Lymington, Roger had mastered the art of sailing, so he bought a small yacht and they went in her on expeditions to towns and villages along the coast. Both of them were well read, and had travelled widely, so they never lacked things to talk about, or episodes in their past to laugh over. During those long weeks in which, night and day, they had only each other for company, Georgina became convinced that Roger had proved his contention that, now they were older, they would never tire of each other; and she looked forward happily to their being married when they got back to England.

  It was early in March that an event occurred which caused Roger considerable perturbation. A courier arrived from the Emperor. Such a thing had never happened before and, had it done so while he was supposed to be at St. Maxime but was actually away on one of his secret trips to England, his absence could have proved far from easy to explain.

  The contents of the despatch also gave him much food for thought. It was in Napoleon’s own almost illegible scrawl, and briefly conveyed that he was worried about Josephine. Apparently the officer whom he had appointed to act as the Comptroller of her Household at Malmaison had proved far from satisfactory, and she had asked if Roger could replace him. Anxious to please her, Napoleon had granted her request, with the proviso that he could spare Roger for only a few months, until she was more satisfactorily settled. He then ordered Roger to return to Paris, in order to take up
his new post as speedily as possible.

  This summons placed Roger in a nasty quandary. He had intended, later in the month, to take Georgina across to Bordeaux and, in a village somewhere along the coast there, find a smuggler who would run them across the Channel. But could he, with any decency, deny the consolation of his friendship to the unhappy Josephine?

  That night he discussed the situation fully with Georgina. Being of a most generous nature, she said that, as the appointment was to be only for a few months, he must do as he had been asked, and that she would remain on at St. Maxime until he could rejoin her.

  He accepted her view that he must leave her for a while; but was worried that her return home would be so long delayed. After some thought he hit upon an idea that would enable her to leave France more speedily. The British Navy, being dominant in the Mediterranean, constantly patrolled the coast from Gibraltar to Genoa, and hardly a day passed without one of the patrolling frigates passing within sight of St. Maxime. If he could put her aboard one of them, when it next put in to Gibraltar for supplies it could land her there and, as the one-time Countess of St. Ermins, he had little doubt that the Admiral in command would give her passage in another ship to carry her to England.

  Three days elapsed before a ship came close enough in for her to be reached without undue risk and, fortunately, at midday the wind dropped to hardly a breeze; so for the afternoon she lay about three miles offshore, almost becalmed.

  As Roger was anxious that no-one in the town should see him put Georgina aboard, they waited until an hour or so before twilight was due to fall before leaving the house. Early in the afternoon he had made certain through his telescope that the frigate was British; Georgina had then packed most of the clothes he had bought for her while she was living at Passy and, having told the Dufours that they were going for a trip in the yacht, they had carried the bags down to her.