The Shadow of Tyburn Tree

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘Monsieur!’ she exclaimed. ‘Whither are you going?’

  ‘Why, to light the candles you will need for your night toilette, Madame,’ he replied airily. ‘Surely you do not think that I am a man who would leave anything half done. I pray you come with me and show me which lights you will require.’

  She wondered if he meant to pounce upon her immediately he had got her inside, and she was by no means prepared to let him do so as yet. But the casualness of his tone suggested that he intended no more than to complete his service with the candle; so, a little uncertainly she followed him through the door. Then, keeping well away from him, she said: ‘If you will light the candles on my dressing-table and the night-light beside my bed, those will serve.’

  He complied without giving her a glance, set down the candle he was carrying next to the night-light on the far side of the big four-poster, and, stepping into the centre of the room looked round it with the eye of a connoisseur.

  ‘ ’Tis a lovely apartment,’ he declared, ‘and well-suited to be Hymen’s playground for the loveliest lady in all England.’

  ‘Fie, Monsieur!’ she rebuked him. ‘I am not used to hear such outspoken thoughts from a new acquaintance.’

  ‘Indeed!’ His eyebrows lifted in faint mockery. ‘Then Englishmen must be even poorer champions in the lists of love than they are reputed. In my country even acquaintanceship is accounted redundant when two pairs of eyes have met and kindled the Divine spark.’

  ‘Then it must be a plaguey dangerous place for the poor females,’ Georgina smiled. ‘But come, Monsieur, let us return to my boudoir and you shall tell me something of your country before I send you to your rest.’

  She had already turned, to go through the doorway. Suddenly he took two swift strides forward and seized her from behind. One of his arms shot round her waist and caught her to him, the other encircled her breast with the hand raised to grasp her chin. Catching it firmly between his fingers and thumb, he jerked round her head and, thrusting his own face over her shoulder he kissed her full upon the mouth.

  For a moment she let him have his way, then she made a violent effort to free herself; but his grip held her like a vice and he kept his mouth pressed against hers until they were both breathless.

  At last he jerked back his head, smiled down into her eyes, and panted: ‘A demonstration of how a Russian can love is better than any tales I could tell.’ Then, shifting his grip, he picked her up, carried her across the room and threw her down upon the bed.

  As she made no attempt to cry out, or even to protest, he felt that his triumph was assured; but he had reckoned without Georgina’s agility and resource. Within a second of his having thrown her face upward on the bed she had jerked herself over, squirmed off it and stood facing him on its far side.

  ‘Enough of this!’ she panted. ‘Your Excellency is much mistaken if you think that I am to be taken so.’

  He laughed, his dark eyes boring into hers, his white teeth flashing. ‘If you prefer the French style to the Russian, Madame, you have but to say so. I am accounted a tolerably good lady’s maid and would be charmed to assist at your unrobing. I ask only that you should spare me the pretended vapourings, faints and tears, which most English ladies seem to regard as an essential accompaniment to their surrender.’

  ‘I will spare you both that and all other exertions,’ Georgina said regally. ‘The favours you have received elsewhere have led you to count your chickens before they are hatched on this occasion. ’Tis my pleasure that you should now leave my room.’

  ‘Nay. That is too much to ask,’ he shot back. ‘You are a woman in a million, and I have set my heart upon you, I mean you no disrespect when I say that you have long lived apart from your husband and taken other lovers in his place. And you openly encouraged me to hope. Choose for yourself, then, if we are to play Cupid’s game with the leisurely refinement of the French, or if you would have me leap this bed and catch you as I can.’

  Georgina’s heart was hammering in her breast. The novelty of the Russian’s forthright love-making had already surpassed her expectations. She found it wildly exciting; and now the time had clearly come when she must either give in to him or take some drastic action to cut matters short.

  The thought of Roger crossed her mind. She still felt that he had behaved boorishly in seeking to put a restraint upon her contrary to their original pact; yet she knew that she had hurt his pride by breaking away from him so abruptly; and had wanted to be able to salve it the following morning by telling him that she had dismissed Vorontzoff after letting him take only a couple of kisses.

  Suddenly she decided that she had had enough excitement for one night, and that the present game would lose nothing from keeping; so she took refuge in a clever lie.

  ‘Monsieur,’ she said. I have ordered you to leave my room. I now beg you to do so in order to avoid a most unseemly incident. My father and I are much attached and ’tis his invariable custom to come in and wish me goodnight after I have retired. He will be here at any moment now and I should be mightily shamed if he found you with me.’

  Vorontzoff had no means of telling if she was speaking the truth, yet he could not decently refuse such a request. It seemed that she had completely foiled him, but after thinking furiously for a moment, he said: ‘So be it, Madame. At what hour shall I return?’

  ‘I—I fail to understand…’ she faltered.

  ‘ ’Tis quite simple,’ he said with sudden gravity. ‘While we were admiring your Canaletto we made an unspoken bargain. Under pretext of my lighting you to your room you invited me here. Men and women such as you and I do not make assignations for such an hour and place to tell one another nursery-rhymes. Besides: you cannot have so soon forgotten the clothes that you are wearing.’

  Georgina gave a swift glance down at her embroidered bodice and short skirts. ‘Why no!’ she said, with a puzzled frown. ‘ ’Tis the Russian peasant costume, you gave me. But, what of it?’

  ‘Surely, Madame, you realised that it is a wedding-dress; and that I should naturally take your having donned it so promptly as a clear sign that you were willing to grant me a husband’s place tonight.’

  She shook her head. ‘I donned it in your honour, Monsieur, but with no thought that the garment had any special significance.’

  ‘Then let that pass,’ he shrugged. ‘There still remains our unspoken bargain.’

  ‘Do you dare to infer that I am to be bought for three hundred pounds,’ she cried hotly.

  ‘Nay,’ he protested. ‘You are unfair. The matter hinged upon your desire to save that young man from an embarrassment. The money itself is a mere bagatelle, and I crave permission to place at your feet jewels of ten times that value. But of more worth still are the services that I can render you. I am no fool, Madame, and I know both your love of power and the value that Mr. Fox sets upon the Russian interest. If you will honour the inference upon which you brought me here, and the significance of the dress you wear tonight, I will place all my influence unreservedly at your disposal tomorrow.’

  Georgina hesitated. She had believed that while this hardheaded diplomat might prove a novel and amusing lover, she would probably find it extremely difficult to sway him politically; yet he was now offering her that power to exercise a secret influence on great events which was her most cherished ambition.

  ‘I must think,’ she murmured. ‘Give me a little time, I beg.’

  ‘Madame! You are playing with me!’ His voice held a sudden note of anger. ‘We Russians are not accustomed to such finesse, and when we want a thing we want it badly. You are old enough to know your mind on such a matter. Have done with these delays and give me your answer.’

  She gave him a half smile and pleaded: ‘Tomorrow. Surely, you can wait till tomorrow for it.’

  While they had been talking he had imperceptibly edged round the corner of the bed. Suddenly he moved again and, with one bound was, on its far side; but he made no attempt to seize her. Falling on his knees he
reached up, and grasping her hands he began to smother them with kisses, as he cried.

  ‘Tomorrow! Why tomorrow when tonight can be ours! Oh, my beautiful Georgina, I beg you to take pity on me, I am no pretty, strutting youth, but a strong man worthy of your love. All these winter months since I first saw you in Devonshire House I have adored you with the adoration that we Russians reserve for the Saints. I cannot live unless you will grant me what I ask. I am your slave to do with as you will, but let me return in half an hour to renew my worship at the loveliest of shrines. Let me come back I implore—I entreat you.’

  Georgina’s heart was now beating fast again. Had she been in any state to think clearly she would have realised that the Russian’s love-making was no more than a reversal of the usual procedure; yet his having attacked her first and reserved his impassioned pleas for later had proved more effective, and her brain was in a whirl. As she bent above him she felt all the thrill of having, after all, reduced this strong, virile representative of a great nation to a suppliant at her feet, and emotion now combined with interest to incline her to be merciful.

  ‘What I would not do for jewels I might do from kindness,’ she whispered. ‘For your passion moves me much. Yet I will make no promises.’

  He suddenly released her hands and stood up to renew his anguished pleading. ‘Madame, how can you have the heart to torment me further? Be plain with me or I shall be forced to think you the hardest-hearted of coquettes.’

  ‘Nay, I will not be rushed into yielding on a wave of emotion,’ she declared with sudden firmness. ‘You must grant me, Monsieur, the next half hour to make up my mind while I undress. You may return then if you wish to put out the lights and learn my decision.’

  His flushed face broke into a smile and, stepping back, he made her a low bow. ‘With that, Madame, I rest content. Unless your heart is made of stone, April the first will now prove to be the happiest dawn that I have ever known.’

  Her nerves were still taut, and as he turned away, she gave a little semi-hysterical laugh. ‘ ’Twould be unwise to count on anything on such a date; for ’tis All Fools’ Day.’

  Evidently he guessed that she had made the silly joke in an effort to recover her normal poise, since he did not reply but crossed the boudoir without even a glance over his shoulder; and a moment later she heard the door click as he let himself out into the corridor.

  With a breathless sigh she sat down at her dressing-table and began to unpin the golden headdress. Standing up again she stripped off the gay wedding costume and slipped on her filmy night robe; then she settled herself before her mirror once more.

  For a moment she remained quite still, regarding the lovely image of herself. She was still in the first flush of her beauty; not even the suggestion of a wrinkle marred her skin, and with her abounding health, she saw no reason why they should do so for many years to come. Slowly she gave her face the few touches that it needed with the hare’s foot and the powder-puff; then she combed through her lustrous black hair, and very conscious that this was no night to do it up in curlpapers, re-arranged it with a blue satin bow together her curls in a cluster at the back of her neck.

  Dousing the candles on the dressing-table, she walked through to the boudoir and put the lights out there. On her way back she left the door ajar, then removed the big copper warming pan from the bed and wriggled down into its soft, warm depths.

  The room was lit now only by the glow of the dying fire and the fat, shaded night-light beside the bed.

  Georgina turned on her back and stretched luxuriously, then she relaxed and lay staring up at the draped canopy of the great four-poster.

  Her thoughts were still a little chaotic. She was somehow more certain than ever now that she had never really intended to commit herself tonight, and she realised that it was only Roger’s stupidity at the card-table that had led her into doing so. Yet she could not find it in her heart to blame him. Such a loss of his normally well-balanced head could only have been caused by some secret disturbance that was going on inside it, and for that there could be only one explanation—her own jilting of him without adequate preparation.

  It occurred to her now that she ought to have sent him away a few days ago and said nothing of Vorontzoff’s projected visit. He would have gone quite cheerfully then, knowing well enough that in due course she would take another lover, yet still retaining his romantic feelings for her. It grieved her now to think that she had hurt and offended him quite unnecessarily.

  This was not the first time that she had had to reproach herself with the results of her besetting sin, which was demanding too much of life. That was the trouble; she always wanted to eat her cake and keep it too. In her heart of hearts she had known perfectly well that Roger would take the Russian’s overtures to her badly, yet she had not been sufficiently strong-minded either to send him away or refuse Fox’s request that she should invite the Ambassador down for this week-end. She knew too that the reason for that was not far to seek. In spite of the occasional tiffs that had crept into her intimacy with Roger, she was still physically in love with him and wanted him to stay on at Stillwaters with her through the spring.

  She was already wishing that it was he who would be coming to her in a few moments now. She loved to gaze her fill into those deep blue eyes and feel his strong arms hold her close. He was such a marvellous lover too, because he had such a happy nature. When roused his passion matched her own, but at times he could be very gentle, and he teased her deliciously. She had never known another man who could bring such an element of merriment to his love-making.

  But in a fit of temper she had forbidden Roger her room, and the evening’s events had made it quite certain that he would not risk a fresh humiliation by ignoring her prohibition. By now he was either asleep or tossing restlessly in his bed, a prey to bitter, angry thoughts about her. For a moment she thought of getting up and going in to him, but she dismissed the idea almost as soon as it arose. To do so now might result in a most appalling scene culminating in a duel. It was too late now to undo the web of her own spinning in which she had entangled herself. She must stop thinking about Roger and think about the strange, dark, violent man who was coming to her instead.

  She had forced him to give her half an hour’s respite and insisted that her mind was not yet made up; but she knew full well that on his return that would count for nothing. There was no escape now from the grasp of those strong, square-fingered hands, and the avid mouth that had crushed itself against hers so fiercely. He was considerably older than any lover that she had previously taken but she felt certain that he did not lack virility. Perhaps, just as she had first thought, his very strangeness would prove terribly exciting. She had not relished his hot flat face being pressed against her own, yet she had given way before to men who had attracted her less, in order to satisfy her curiosity. In any case she had made her bed and must now lie upon it. She wondered then how long he would remain with her, and with a sinking heart recalled his mentioning the dawn. In vain she sought to fight off the conviction that she would hate him before the morning.

  A soft footfall caught her ear, followed by the gentle closing of a door. She gave a start, then quickly shut her eyes and stilled her breathing as though she had fallen asleep. It was a last poor little effort at defence on the slender chance that, finding her so, he would grant her a reprieve and refrain from waking her. Yet she knew all the time that it was childish to think for an instant that such a scruple would induce him to forego his victory.

  The footsteps drew nearer. They crossed the soft carpet and halted beside the bed. For a moment that seemed to her of almost unendurable length nothing happened. She could hear her heart thumping wildly; a lump was rising in her throat. She felt that unless the tension ended in another instant she would scream.

  Then a quiet voice said: ‘ ’Tis a pleasant change to find you without your hair done up in curl papers.’

  ‘Roger!’ She started up on her elbow; her eyes wide, the blood drai
ning from her face, as she gasped. ‘What brings you here?’

  ‘To see that you were well, happy, and to wish you a good night,’ he replied lightly.

  ‘But I forbade you to come!’

  ‘As a lover, perhaps; but you have not withdrawn from me the privilege of a brother.’

  ‘ ’Tis no time for splitting straws,’ she said in a fierce whisper. ‘You must go—go instantly.’

  ‘Why this perturbation?’ he smiled. ‘And your prodigious eagerness to be rid of me?’

  ‘Because—because Vorontzoff’s coming back, and will be here at any moment. If he finds you here …’ her voice trailed away on a note of panic.

  ‘And what if he did?’

  ‘Oh, are you mad?’ She sat up and wrung her hands. ‘Spare me, I beg, a brawl in my own room! Or worse! He may challenge you to a duel in which one of you might be killed.’

  ‘Nothing would please me better than the chance to spit him like the conceited turkey-cock he is. It made my gall rise till it near choked me to see the way in which he treated you as if already you were his, this evening.’

  ‘Oh, Roger, please!’ she begged. ‘I have been at fault, I know. I did not originally intend to bring matters to a head this weekend. I swear it! If I have hurt you ’tis I who am paying for it now. I would with all my heart that I could stop his coming. But ’tis too late. Add not to my distress by creating soma dreadful scene that may end in tragedy.’

  ‘So you would stop his coming if you could?’

  ‘Yes, yes. But that is of little moment. ’Twill be no more than un mauvais quart d’heure; then I’ll get rid of him. What matters is that he should not find you here, Leave me. I implore you!’

  He smiled down at her. ‘Then it seems that I have been able to render you a service. You may set your mind at rest m’dear, regarding this meeting that you now find distasteful, Count Vorontzoff will not be returning to you tonight.’

  ‘Roger!’ she cried, starting forward in fresh panic. ‘What have you done?’