by Joan Smith
The lavish couple were not long in town before their presence was causing ripples.
* * *
Chapter 3
Lord Moncrief’s establishment in Vienna was considerably less opulent than his cousin’s. He was assigned one room of the twenty-two-room floor at Minoritenplatz No. 30, where Lord Castlereagh, first plenipotentiary for England at the Congress of Vienna, was billeted. His valet and groom occupied some cubbyhole of the edifice, far enough removed from him that they were virtually inaccessible, though there was a pull cord in his room which, in theory, put him in contact with his servants. In fact, he had not seen his valet, Wragge, in the last twenty-four hours. He dressed himself; clean clothes were miraculously awaiting him, as were polished boots, but he had waited half an hour for hot water for bathing and shaving that morning, finally sending a junior clerk for it. Moving out was impossible. There was not a room in the city to be had, and if there has been, Castlereagh would resent the desertion.
Moncrief was attached to British headquarters as a liaison officer, whose job it was to conciliate the Russian and Prussian delegations to the Congress, or failing this Herculean task, to keep an ear to semiofficial pipelines laid in every hostess’s saloon and discover what nefarious schemes were hatching.
The major political issue to be resolved was what had been termed, for ease of reference, the Saxony-Poland question. There existed a tacit alliance between Russia and Prussia. Tsar Alexander would support King William’s claim to Saxony if Prussia would support the Tsar’s annexing of Poland, under the guise of granting it independence. Austria and England were in an uneasy alliance against them, as was France. They none of them wanted too strong a Prussia at their doorsteps.
There existed a host of minor questions as well. Every country had an axe to grind and a cause to push forward. Loyalties shifted from day to day, depending on the current rumors. Prince Talleyrand was there for France, trying to insinuate himself in where he was not wanted, and having very good success too. Spain, Italy and Portugal were in a pucker at being left out of important meetings. The independent German states, ignored by the major powers, united in a federal league. It was enough to make the most sober head reel.
Baron Hager had been put in charge of policing the international meeting, to look into the daily threats of kidnapping, assassination, intrigue, espionage, counterespionage, treason and revolt. And despite all this converging of the powers, there was really no Congress going on at all, but a series of secret meetings. It was said amongst the wits that the only time the national representatives were likely to get together was when Isabey, the Congress artist, had got them all individually painted, and assembled on canvas.
Moncrief glanced at the slip of paper in his hand, wondering what “urgent matter” Castlereagh could wish to discuss with him. He was soon tapping at a carved oaken door nine feet high and being shown into the Foreign Minister’s office. Castlereagh sat behind a mammoth desk littered with reports. He was paring his nails. He was a handsome gentleman in his early forties, his face already lined from the weight of his responsibilities, his hair turning gray.
“Come in, Moncrief. Come in,” he said. “You have heard the latest?”
Moncrief shrugged his shoulders and advanced to the desk. He was tall and slender, dark-haired and dark-eyed, but with no flavor of the Latin in his appearance. He had prominent cheek bones and a prominent nose and was seldom seen wearing any but a haughty expression. “My most recent news is eight hours old. I expect I am seven hours and fifty-nine minutes behind the times.”
He sat down and crossed one long leg over the other, carefully arranging his trousers to avoid wrinkling. “I was at the Prussian do last night, at the Schweizerhof Wing,” he mentioned. All the visiting monarchs were put up at the Hofburg, each allotted its own wing.
“I refer to domestic affairs,” Castlereagh informed him. “It is Crowell.”
“Yes?” Moncrief asked, searching his mind to put a face to this name.
“An informer!” Castlereagh went on. “One of my own household, imagine! A trusted footman—I have used him dozens of times for carrying highly secret documents. My wife caught him red-handed opening a billet she was sending to a friend. Fortunately it was no more than a request for the name of a modiste, but it could as easily have been a matter of more importance. You see how it is. He was in Baron Hager’s pay—the chief of Austrian police. Every delegation is rife with informers. God only knows what they do with all the scraps of paper they snitch out of the waste baskets, and all the private correspondence they have copies. As though anyone would be fool enough to entrust anything of real importance to the mails! We require another servant we can trust. I hope you don’t mind that I have borrowed Wragge from you. It wouldn’t do to hire a foreigner, and Wragge will still see to your toilette, as a matter of course. Or perhaps you can borrow a valet from your cousin. I hear Palgrave brought his own private domestic army with him.”
“Ah, they have arrived, have they? I did not hear it at the Hofburg last night.”
“Did you not? That’s odd. They have been here a couple of days. They were at the other party last night at the Hofburg—the Amalia Wing, with the Grand Duchess Catherine of Oldenberg. There is some bit of spite simmering between Catherine and the Prussian King. I believe he neglected to flirt with her in passing, or some such detail. Never mind, any cooling between those two is to the good. The Duchess might even talk her brother into welcoming Louis back on the throne of France, if King William comes out strongly enough against it. Anyway, that is really why I asked you here.”
“What, to foster a feud between the Grand Duchess and King William? Sounds like lady’s work to me.”
“No, no—it is your cousin I speak of. Palgrave.”
“He will doubtlessly carry his own particular brand of mischief into the toils of the Congress. And prices are already so high too! But then you know, with a hundred thousand visitors to outspend, and two hundred and fifteen princely families, he will hardly cause much rise in the rate of inflation.”
“I don’t know about that,” Castlereagh replied, in perfect seriousness. He was clever, but not much given to levity. “He is certainly spending like a drunken sailor in any case."
“Palgrave’s man of business called on me a week ago. I expect there was some ill feeling when the semiofficial group from Württemberg had their headquarters rented out from under them, but really that is nothing to do with me. It is a fait accompli. The Württemberg group were put up elsewhere, were they not?”
“It is not the house I’m worried about. Palgrave is spouting some nonsense about blue diamonds.”
“Blue diamonds?” Moncrief asked, frowning. "The lady has every other color known to science. Now you must own, Castlereagh, blue diamonds would match her eyes very well.”
“It is all fine and dandy for you to joke, but you know well enough what blue diamond he refers to.”
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
“What, you don’t know of the Blue Tavernier, and you call yourself an expert on gems?”
“I don’t, actually, though I don’t trouble to refute it when others bestow the title on me. Certainly I am familiar with the Blue Tavernier.”
“I am glad to hear it. I want you to tell me all about it. Someone was saying last night that it belongs to the King of France, and that it is stolen property. One of the French delegates it was—Chabon. Ready to raise a great stink about it.”
“How much do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
“A comprehensive answer,” Moncrief said, and adjusted his posture to achieve total comfort. He crossed his arms, tilted his chair back, rested his chin on his chest and closed his eyes, to aid memory. “Well then, some several thousand years ago, there was a forest growing in India . . ."
“Let us just skip over the next few millenia till a diamond had formed and been discovered by man, shall we?” Castlereagh asked, in a damping t
one.
“If you like, but the formation of a diamond is really very interesting. The stone commonly known as the Blue Tavernier comes from Golconda, in India. It first became known in Europe when it was brought back to France by Tavernier, a French traveler and gem merchant, who had stolen it from the forehead of a statue of Rama Sita in India. This was around 1668. It was over a hundred carats at the time, but was subsequently recut to two-thirds the size. Badly cut, in the opinion of most experts. I have not personally seen the stone, you understand,” Moncrief said, opening his eyes to regard his listener.
“I don’t see what all this has to do . . ."
“You did say everything. But I shall shorten the history if you like. It was sold to King Louis XIV, to be set in the crown jewels. It is set in a fabulous jeweled insignia of the Order of the Golden Fleece. It picked up rather a nasty reputation as a stone of evil about that time. Tavernier, you see, was eaten alive by wild dogs in Russia. King Louis caught a disease which delicacy forbids mentioning and died, Louis XVI, er—lost his head . . . and the stone is now bringing ill luck to an unknown party.”
“But where is it? Who has it? Chabon spoke as though it were someone here in Vienna."
“Chabon seems to know a good deal more about it than anyone else. It has not been heard of since the French Revolution. It was part of the jewel exhibition put on at that time, when the French crown jewels were claimed in the name of the bourgeoisie and set out for them to see. This was at the Garde Meuble of the Tuileries. The blue diamond, along with the Sancy and the Regent—also ten thousand lesser stones—were all stolen. The robbery was believed to have been executed by twenty men, who were ultimately betrayed by one woman. Five of them were executed, but none of them talked. The Tavernier is still missing, as are many of the others. A few have turned up—the Regent was found in a Parisian attic, hidden in the woodwork. It was the largest of the lot. But it was found shortly afterwards. I have heard nothing of the rest of them for years. What makes you think it is the Blue Tavernier Palgrave is after?”
“He said as much last night.”
“Did he indeed? His lady must be favoring blue this year. It is only natural she should want the most expensive jewel in the country to match her ensembles, but I would not disturb myself unduly about so unlikely an occurrence, milord.”
“I don’t care if he buys her her own diamond mine. What concerns me is that already people are talking about it. It is French property—belongs in fact to the King of France. If Palgrave buys it, he buys stolen French property. Already this A.M. Talleyrand has had that demmed Chabon knocking at my door, asking what we know about the property belonging to the Bourbons. They think it is some English trick—that we got hold of the whole collection I suppose is what he meant, and plan to do God knows what with it. I don’t much care what Talleyrand thinks, to tell the truth. He needs me—us—England. Still, he could stir up a deal of mischief if this story gets afoot. Tsar Alexander will be sure Louis has bribed us with the gift of the collection to put him back on the throne. The Tsar really favors Bonaparte—always has.”
“Louis did not have the crown jewels to bribe you or anyone else,” Moncrief pointed out.
“No one knows who has them. You said as much yourself.”
“We know Louis does not have them. He would have no reason to hide it if he had. They belong to him. More likely it was Bonaparte who got hold of them, he was the gent in power during most of those intervening years.”
“Yes, well I trust you see, Moncrief, that does not decrease the likelihood of mischief. If Bonaparte has an agent peddling those gems, and an Englishman buys them—finances Napoleon’s return in effect . . ."
“Yes—I see the problem. But surely it is all a rumor. You exaggerate the danger.” Then he fell silent and began to consider the affair in more depth.
“Of course the jewels must be somewhere,” he went on. “Somebody has them. What better time and place to dispose of them than here, and now. Virtually every person of wealth and influence in the western world is collected here in this one city. It is like a giant international public auction—the biggest auction ever assembled. Yes, the price will never be likely to go so high again, and as well, the seller would have a good chance of covering his traces. The collection might have been brought here from any country. The transaction could be made quietly and privately, and the seller nip back to wherever he came from, a million or so pounds the richer. An intriguing idea. But still,” he said, shaking himself to attention, “it is no more than an idea. That Palgrave happens to want a blue diamond for his lady is not to say the Blue Tavernier will materialize.”
“Chabon thinks it will. He spoke of some ruby—a star ruby he said, that was apparently associated with the blue diamond. Part of the same stolen collection I daresay. I did not like to tell him I didn’t know what the deuce he was talking about, but certainly that must be it. He said Palgrave had given his wife a star ruby that was associated with the Tavernier, and he meant to buy her the blue diamond as well.”
“The Star of Burma,” Moncrief said, nodding his head. “Yes, there was a star ruby in that collection—a favorite of Marie Antoinette’s, according to court gossip of the day. And Palgrave had this stone, you say?”
“Lady Palgrave was wearing a ruby as big as a cherry last night, and boasting she would soon have a blue diamond to go with it. See that she does not,” Castlereagh said.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Moncrief said, arising.
“Oh, and my wife said to give the Palgraves these invitations to her soiree. You might drop Lady Palgrave the hint the Metternichs entertain on Monday nights, my wife on Tuesdays, and the Zichys on Saturday. It would be better if the Palgraves plan their parties for other evenings. I know they will be active socially. I assume at least that is their purpose in being here.”
“I wouldn’t worry my head they have turned diplomats. I daresay the only thing they have learned is when the parties are held. And of course where to buy rubies and blue diamonds at an exorbitant price. Did you happen to hear what he paid for the Star of Burma?”
“They got it at a bargain. That is all they said.”
“If Harvey struck a good bargain, I daresay he didn’t pay more than twice what it is worth. I wonder if it is actually a ruby at all, or only a garnet with the back scooped out to give it a luster, like the ring he bought his little woman a few months ago when she became enceinte. Dear me, he will have to commandeer an Indiaman from the EIC and bring back the hold full of diamonds from India when she is finally delivered of the child.”
“My wife says she lost the baby. Sorry to hear it if it is true.”
“Pity. But then, one wonders at times whether everyone ought to be allowed to breed. Googie did say, when she discovered the state she was in, that she would have Harvey spayed if the pledge of her love turned out to be a male, and her duty in providing an heir achieved. She meant castrated, I expect. In my opinion it would do him a world of good. Is there anything else, or shall I go to visit the Star of Burma now?”
“You can go. You might just drop around at Talleyrand’s place and say hello to Dorothée. He often uses his niece as a mouthpiece for his ideas. If reaction is unfavorable, it remains her idea, and if it is good, he is soon spouting the same thing himself. See what she has to say about this blue diamond business.”
“I wonder where he learned such a devious stunt. Oh—before I leave. I hinted to the Grand Duchess yesterday that England would be ready even to go to war if the Tsar insists on annexing Poland. She says her brother would welcome it. Better pull in your horns, milord. Liverpool would have you drawn and quartered if you get us into battle again.”
He left, with a sardonic smile playing about his lips, while Castlereagh tore open his correspondence, to read firm injunctions from the Prime Minister of England, that nothing was to be allowed to draw England into any further wars. America was already depleting the treasury, what remained in it after fighting Napoleon for
more than a decade.
* * *
Chapter 4
The mansion hired by Palgrave was well known to Moncrief, situated as it was at the very heart of the doings of the Congress on Schenkenstrasse. It was an overly ornate rococo building, very close to the Austrian Chancellery, and across the road from the Palais Palm. This last edifice was as important socially as the Hofburg, housing as it did the rival Austrian hostesses, the Princess Bagration in the left wing, the Duchesse de Sagan in the right. The two halves of the palais were unofficially known as Russian Headquarters, due to Bagration’s being a favored flirt of Tsar Alexander, and Austrian Headquarters. The Duchesse had captured the heart of Prince Metternich, the Austrian plenipotentiary to the Congress.
Moncrief amused himself as he went along by wondering which of the hostesses would win the Palgraves. He was himself committed to Bagration’s camp. It would be useful to have another pair of ears in the opposite side. Of course there was much sharing of friends between the two groups, but for more intimate do’s, where secrets were more apt to be discussed, the English would welcome any colleagues, and whichever group they chose, the Palgraves were bound to be soon on an intimate basis. Their wealth, their social cachet, would certainly give them a choice in the matter.
Strange, he thought, how eager folks were to make the silly pair welcome everywhere, on the basis only of their wealth, for while Googie was pretty, neither she nor Harvey was what one would call a wit, nor served any but an ornamental function at a party.