Evil in a Mask rb-9

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Evil in a Mask rb-9 Page 38

by Dennis Wheatley


  Already dressed in his best uniform, with a long face, the Captain duly went ashore, expecting to have to resist a de­mand for the surrender of Roger and his bride. He had every intention of keeping the promise he had made in the early hours of that morning; but was greatly troubled by the fact that three Portuguese men-of-war lay anchored in the estuary, so he was hopelessly outgunned and, if the Portuguese turned nasty, he would find himself in a most unpleasant situation.

  Roger, too, was aware of that and knew that if a threat was made to open fire on the Phantom, he would have no alter­native but to throw in his hand. He could only endeavour to comfort himself with the thought that, if the worst happened, luck and his skilful planning had combined to eliminate any evidence that either Lisala or he had had any hand in the mur­der of her father. Nevertheless, he could not escape the charge of having abducted her; so, if they were arrested and taken ashore, things would go hard with both of them.

  For three extremely anxious hours they strolled up and down, or sat about, under the awning over the poop. At last Captain Jackson returned. As he came alongside in his gig, they saw that his thick uniform was stained with sweat, and he was mopping the perspiration from his face with a ban­danna handkerchief.

  When he had been piped aboard and they had followed him into the state-room, he said gruffly:

  'The city is in a ferment concerning the Marquis* death. While I was at the Palace, there was talk of nothing else. People are much mystified, as the accounts of the affair differ greatly. For a slave to have assaulted his master's daughter is a thing unheard of. The only explanation offered is that he must have gone mad; but he is dead, so has escaped torture, and no-one will ever now know the truth of the matter. You, Mr. Brook, are greatly blamed for having abandoned the injured duenna and the Senhorita's aunt. Apparently there was no question whatever of the other slaves mutinying, and you had already driven your sword through the one who might have incited them to do so, as he scrambled out of the window. It is said, too, by the Senhora de Arahna that, sword in hand, you had a violent quarrel with the Marquis before carrying off the Senhorita. The duenna is still too ill to make a statement. But, when she is sufficiently recovered to give an account of what occurred, more light should be thrown on this terrible affair.'

  Roger paled. It was Dona Christina who had pulled his leg from under him when he had actually been crossing swords with de Pombal. The testimony she would give could be re­futed only by asserting that she had temporarily gone out of her mind and had imagined the whole scene. Would that be believed? And the story that Baob had come up through the window, with the intention of raping Lisala? That rested solely on the word of Lisala and himself; and it was with her stiletto that the Marquis had been stabbed through the back.

  With narrowed eyes and his heart beating fast, Roger said, 'Maybe, in the excitement of the moment, I was foolish to adhere to my original plan to abduct the Senhorita. All would have gone smoothly but for the unforeseen aberration of that accursed Negro. What attitude are the authorities taking in the matter?'

  The Captain shrugged. 'Naturally they are anxious to ques­tion you; so they have issued an order for your arrest.'

  'I'll not leave this ship unless the Portuguese threaten to fire upon her,' Roger declared firmly.

  'You will not need to. No-one ashore is aware that you are aboard her.'

  'Thank God for that! And I am greatly your debtor, Sir, for not having divulged that. . . that my wife and I are your guests here.'

  Jackson's leathery face broke into a smile. 'I was not even questioned about you, Mr. Brook. I think now I have suffi­ciently paid you out for the way in which you spoke to me in the early hours of this morning. The rowing boat in which you came out to Phantom was cast adrift and washed ashore on the incoming tide. In it was found a high, tortoiseshell comb that had evidently fallen from your wife's dishevelled hair, and has been identified as hers by her aunt. It is assumed that you went out to a Portuguese barque which sailed on the dawn tide, and paid her Captain well to take you up to Recife.'

  Out of habit, Lisala crossed herself and exclaimed, 'Holy Virgin be praised!'

  Roger gave a wry smile and admitted, 'I deserved the fear you inflicted on me these past few minutes. But, relieved as I am now, I fail to understand why you were sent for from the Palace if it was not to be asked if we had taken refuge aboard Phantom.'

  Jackson returned his smile and drew from the big, flapped pocket of his coat a large envelope with heavy seals. 'It was to receive this. 'Tis the reply to the despatch that I delivered eight days ago.'

  'Then, your mission accomplished, you are free to sail’ Roger exclaimed joyfully. 'We'll not have to remain here dread­ing that someone ashore may yet get wind of it that we are aboard.'

  'Yes, Mr. Brook. I deplore having become involved in this whole unsavoury business. But I admire your resolution, and it is clear that the gods have favoured you. Phantom is fully watered and provisioned. On the evening tide we sail for Eng­land.’

  In their role as 'the eyes of the Fleet', frigates were one of the fastest types of ship, afloat, and rarely reefed sail, except when meeting exceptionally bad weather. In consequence, she made the crossing in six weeks. But it was a far from comfort­able one, and the last form of honeymoon Roger would have taken from choice. As was always the case, rough seas made him wretchedly seasick. However, that at least provided him with an excuse for keeping within bounds the amorous de­mands that Lisala made upon him.

  On May 9th, Phantom docked at Portsmouth. Being the bearer of a despatch, as soon as Captain Jackson had cleared his papers he hired a coach to take him to London, and with him he took Roger and Lisala.

  As was Roger's custom when returning from long absences abroad, he went straight to Amesbury House in Arlington Street. It was the town mansion of the Earl of Amesbury, the father of Roger's best friend, Lord Edward Fitz-Deverel, who had permanent apartments there, and was always happy to put him up.

  They arrived shortly after eleven o'clock, and Roger sent up his name, together with the information that he had brought with him from Brazil a lady whom he had recently made his wife. The footman returned to say that His Lordship had just finished breakfast and, if they would forgive his still being in deshabille, he would be delighted to receive them at once.

  Lord Edward was an unusual character. Owing to short­sightedness, he had a permanent stoop, which had caused his friends to nickname him 'Droopy' Ned. He abhorred blood sports and spent much of his time collecting old jewellery, studying ancient religions and experimenting on himself with Eastern drugs. But he was very well-informed, extremely shrewd and had often given Roger sound advice.

  He received them in a flowered silk chamber robe and wear­ing a Turkish turban. After kissing Lisala's hand, he peered at her with his short-sighted eyes, then smiled and said:

  'M'dear, much as I'd like to congratulate Roger, I can hardly find it in me to do so. Now that you are come to London, and the season is in full swing, within a week there will be a score of beaux besieging so lovely a creature as yourself, and he'll not get a wink of sleep from having to drive them off.'

  Roger laughed. 'You're right, Ned, that Lisala will prove the toast of the season. But we have spent the night driving up from Portsmouth, so her present need is a good sleep.'

  Droopy had already ordered wine and ratafias for their refreshment. When the footman brought them, he told him to find the housekeeper and have her prepare a double bed­room for Mr. and Mrs. Brook as speedily as possible. For a quarter of an hour the new arrivals described their journey and the state of things in Brazil when they had left it. The housekeeper then arrived and, after Lisala had thanked their host in her pretty, broken English, led her away. Roger's first question, as he poured himself another glass of Bordeaux, was, 'How fares it with my beloved Georgina?'

  Raising his eyebrows, Droopy replied, 'She married again, over a year ago. Did you not know? Since then she has lived abroad with her new husband, the Baron v
on Haugwitz, a Prussian ex-diplomat who has a castle on the Rhine.'

  Roger frowned. Georgina remained the great love of his life. Between his long absences abroad, they had again and again ignored other ties to spend happy, laughing days and nights together. To learn that, on this occasion, he was to be denied yet another glorious secret reunion with her was a heavy blow.

  At length he said, 'I think I once met the Baron in Paris towards the end of '99. Just before Talleyrand sent me as En­voy Extraordinary to Mr. Pitt in an abortive attempt to agree a peace. If I remember, he was a tall, handsome man of about forty; a cousin of the King of Prussia's First Minister, and had for a while been Ambassador here in London.'

  'That is the man,' Droopy agreed. 'When he was here as Ambassador, he was mightily taken with Georgina, but at that time married. On his wife's death, he returned to England and pressed his suit successfully with our vivacious Countess.'

  *Dost know what she has done about the children?' asked Roger.

  'Her little Earl she took with her; your daughter, Susan, remains at Stillwaters in the good care of her great-aunt Marsham. Not knowing when, if ever, you would return, I have been down on several occasions to see them.'

  'That was good of you, Ned. How fares the child?'

  'Well enough physically, and she bids fair to become a beauty. But she is sad at heart. How could it be otherwise when, for eleven years she shared nursery and playroom with Georgina's boy; then, by this new marriage, they were reft apart?'

  'Eleven years!' Roger gave a heavy sigh. 'She must then now be rising thirteen; and I have spent little more than that number of weeks with her in her whole life.'

  'Take that not too much to heart, dear friend; for it was duty that kept you abroad, and few men can have served their country better.'

  'Aye, Ned, I've pulled a trick or two on Britain's enemies. But, all the same, I've proved a sorry parent, and I am by way of becoming one again.'

  Droopy raised his eyebrows. 'M'seems you've lost no time, since you tell me you married this Brazilian belle only in March.'

  Roger had no secrets from his old friend, so he gave him an account of his year-long affair with Lisala, suppressing only the fact that she had slain her father.

  When he had finished, Droopy commented, 'All's well that ends well, then. With such a wife you'll be the envy of the town. That Madonna face crowning the body of a Venus; rarely, if ever, have I beheld a female with attractions so cal­culated to bewitch a man.'

  'Bewitch a man! You've said it, Ned. She has indeed put a spell on me, and I still cannot make up my mind whether I am glad or sorry that fate should have thrown me in her path. When I am apart from her for a while, I see her as she really is—-a beautiful mask, behind which lies a mind that lacks all humane qualities. She is utterly selfish and would go to any lengths to gain her ends. At times she displays the temper of a virago; and I have become convinced that for her love means one thing only—the satisfaction of sexual craving. Yet when we are together and her eyes light up, her lips part and she gives me that dazzling smile, I count myself the luck­iest man in Christendom.'

  Nodding his narrow, bird-like head, with its great beak of a nose, Droopy said, 'What you have told me does not bode well for a happy marriage. But I am inclined to think that you have been too long divorced from civilised society so, from lack of other interests, brooded overmuch on certain episodes which have revealed to you your wife's shortcomings. Maybe they are not so ineradicable as you have come to suppose. Fur­thermore, when she has her child, that may make a different woman of her. Tis often so.'

  He then stood up and added, 'But you have been up all night. Now I am sending you to bed. By this time, doubtless, Madame is sound asleep; so you had best occupy the bed in the dressing room. We'll meet again this evening. My cousins Lady Caroline and Judith Stanley are both here on one of their periodic visits. I'll tell them about Mrs. Brook, and you may be sure they will do everything in their power to make her stay with us a pleas­ure.'

  Lisala had only the sadly-worn clothes she stood up in; but the ladies of the family lent her garments that fitted her well enough for her to be presentable at dinner. The Earl was still in the country, but relatives, friends and hangers-on usually numbered from twelve to twenty at every meal. All of them proved most eager to hear about the royal family's flight from Portugal, and about Brazil; so Roger and Lisala were the cen­tre of attention. But, pleading the fatigue they still felt from their journey, they escaped early to bed.

  The following morning Roger went alone to Droopy's apart­ment, to breakfast with him. Over their mutton chops, washed down with good bordeaux, they discussed the future. Roger's intention was, as soon as practical, to take his bride to the

  'Grace and Favour' residence, Thatched House Lodge, in Rich­mond Park, of which Mr. Pin had given him the tenure for life. But first Lisala had to be provided with an entire new wardrobe, and he wished to spend a couple of nights at Geor­gia's lovely old home, Stillwaters, in order to see his daughter.

  Droopy assured him that Caroline and Judith would be delighted to take Lisala to the best mercers, modistes and mil­liners and would also introduce her to many of their friends, so she would have plenty to occupy her while Roger was out of London. Roger then said:

  'Tell me now, what has been happening in Europe? During my long absence I had little reliable news.'

  Heavily buttering a muffin, his friend replied, 'The war goes on, of course, but oh! how drearily. Since Billy Pitt's death, England seems to have lost all power of initiative. The so-called "Ministry of All the Talents" failed lamentably, both in its attempts to agree a peace and to prosecute the war. Since His Grace of Portland became Prime Minister, with Mr. Can­ning as his Foreign Secretary, we have had hopes that matters would improve. But, so far, the only notable success—of which you must have heard—was the seizing of the Danish Fleet at Copenhagen. The expedition to Egypt proved a fiasco. We took Alexandria but were defeated at Rosena and, in September, had to evacuate our forces. Admiral Collingwood has, alas, become a tired old man. Although he had a fleet of some eighty ships in the Mediterranean, he failed to prevent the French from entering the Adriatic, revictualling Corfu and returning unmolested to Toulon. That apart, we continued to be mis­tress of the seas. Two sizable squadrons despatched by Bona­parte into the Atlantic to disrupt British commerce did us little damage, and have since become dispersed and impotent.

  'But Bonaparte now rules the roost unchallenged on the Continent, from the Baltic to the Mediterranean. His alliance with the Czar leaves him nothing to fear in the North. They treat their third partner, Prussia, with contempt and have despoiled her of half her territories. 'Tis said, too, that they plan to divide the Empire of the Great Turk between them. Meanwhile, Alexander's army has overrun Sweden's Finnish lands and Napoleon bullies the states in the south into accept­ing his "Continental System".

  'Portugal, Spain, Etruria and the States of the Church are now all occupied by his troops, and in January he even suc­ceeded in coercing neutral Austria into closing her ports on the Adriatic to British shipping. His policy is inflicting the gravest hardship upon both his own people and all others who have submitted to his will. Our industrial revolution gave us a virtual monopoly in manufactured goods. Europe had be­come dependent on Lancashire cottons, and Yorkshire wool­lens. They are, too, starved of the many exotic goods brought by our merchant fleets from the Indies and the East. Sugar is now almost unobtainable on the Continent, and coffee is worth its weight in gold.'

  'It surprises me that supplies are as short as that,' Roger put in. 'Although British bottoms carried to the Continent far more than those of any other nation, there remain the neu­trals, particularly the United States. The merchants there must be making fortunes out of such a situation. Surely, too, neu­tral ships could be used to take in our manufactured goods?'

  Droopy shook his head. 'On the contrary. The Government is carrying out a counter-blockade. Our merchants are much opposed to it, because
by using neutral ships they could con­tinue to export their goods. But that has been forbidden, bring­ing trade almost to a standstill and threatening many mer­chants with bankruptcy. Neutral ships sailing from their own countries are also barred from entering Continental ports. You can well imagine the resentment that such a high-handed action by U3 has caused. We are already at war with half the world, and the other half would now like to sec us speedily defeated.'

  'Then things are come to a sorry pass,' Roger commented, 'and no-one seems the gainer. Smugglers excepted, of course. They must be reaping a golden harvest.'

  'They are indeed, for they no longer have to fear the Ex­cise men on the other side, at least as far as Bonaparte's allies are concerned. In secret they defy his ordinances and wel­come cargoes of illicit goods. Even the French themselves are prone to do so on occasion. Would you believe it, not long since Bourrienne, who was once the Emperor's Chef de Cabinet, and is now his agent at Hamburg, was ordered to supply fifty thousand uniforms for the French troops up in Poland. At his wits' end where to find them, and not daring to disobey his master, he had the cloth for them smuggled over from England.'

  Roger laughed. 'Poor Bourrienne. I knew him well. He was a charming man and of the very highest intelligence. His only fault was that, having made a bad speculation, he recouped himself from the Public Funds. Although a thousand others were doing the same, Napoleon dismissed him for it; and, after years of invaluable service. Never did a master more surely cut off his nose to spite his face. But what of Spain? While waiting at an inn for the coach that brought us up from Portsmouth I heard two officers say that the French are having trouble there.'

  'So I beard in White's some days ago. The course events will take in Spain has been the main subject of speculation for the past two months. I think it as good as certain that Bonaparte intends to take the whole country over, just as he has Portugal. In mid-March Murat, or the "Grand Duke of Berg" as he is now styled, arrived in Madrid as Napoleon's Lieutenant-General. With him he brought a considerable body of French troops. The pretext for doing so was that they are to assist the Spaniards in resisting a British invasion. But ob­viously their presence was to enable Murat to coerce King Carlos into doing as Bonaparte wishes; so he might as well have named him Viceroy.'

 

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