Napoleon's Rosebud

by Humphry Knipe

  Only Mary, made turncoat by love, had broken ranks at the wharf and stood with the cluster of Frenchmen and British officers, there to meet some foreign dignitary, who had gathered around the fiery young general, resplendent in his full dress uniform, sword hanging ominously at his side.

  Charlotte, in a daringly low-cut white cotton dress, her cheeks fanned by the tropical breeze, was the focus of the second, much larger cluster, which included almost the whole of her Yamstock tribe and nearly all of their friends and relatives. Charlotte’s mother was there, elbowing her way to the front of the throng. So were her brothers and sisters, her cousins, their spouses, their hordes of snotty, barefoot children. Her brother Henry used the occasion to wear his kilt, as did his mentor, Mr. Porteous.

  The most conspicuous absence was dear Uncle Samuel, Daniel’s sponsor, who was too ill to attend but who had insisted that Daniel and Charlotte call on him at Horse Pasture Farm the very next day. The other was Daniel’s gypsy mother, who lurked somewhere in deep shade, wide eyes fixed on a seagull, which she was seeing as what it really was, a white vulture.

  It came as a delicious shock to Charlotte, the way seven years had perfected Daniel. He had grown tall, over six foot, surely, and was dressed from hat to toe as a gentleman. He looked a little apprehensive, it was true, but who could blame him, facing such a large and noisy reception committee. Her heart soared as she broke through the knot of Yamstocks pumping his hand and slapping him on the back.

  “Daniel!” she cried out. “Daniel, my love!” Moments later they were in each other’s arms. “Promise not to leave me, ever again!” she hissed in his ear. “I was so very lonely without you!”

  “That’s a promise that’s easy to keep,” Daniel said.

  “But you’ve grown so clever, I’m sure!” said Charlotte. “How are we poor Yamstocks to keep up with you?”

  Daniel kissed her full on the lips, a kiss full of promises that lingered almost too long for decorum. But afterwards Charlotte could sense he was distracted. Searching for someone. His mother.

  “Is she here?” he asked.

  “I thought she would have nothing to do with you after your father found himself a wife.”

  Daniel said, “It was Father who forbade it. But we met often, secretly. I told no one, not even you.”

  Charlotte felt a twinge of jealousy. She didn’t want to talk about Daniel’s mother. After waiting for him for seven years, she felt she deserved his full attention. “She’s still very reclusive,” was the best Charlotte could do. “Avoids crowds. I’ve only spoken with her two or three times. Every time she asked about you. I didn’t want to worry you about it in my letters, but a lot of the simpler folk still blame her for your father’s death.”

  “That’s ridiculous! He died of elephantiasis!”

  “Of course. But you know how us Yamstocks are. We don’t believe in medical science. We believe in religion and witchcraft in about equal portions. So after your father left her to marry money and then almost immediately fell ill with the worm disease, they blamed her for casting a spell. Oh, let’s not talk about this now!”

  “I want to see her,” Daniel said very simply.

  “She’d already seen you. I know she’s here, somewhere close, watching. She’ll want to meet you alone.”

  “When? Do you know where she lives? She must have a home. She has children, my half sisters.”

  “Somewhere up the valley. A shack, I think. Invites no one to see it. She works as a scullery maid in the tavern some nights. She won’t want you, a gentleman now, to see her fallen so low.”

  “She won’t work as a maid any longer!”

  “She doesn’t want charity, that much I know. While you were away Uncle Samuel tried to give her a stipend, in spite of her strange ways, for you and your father’s sake. Daniel, things move slowly on Saint Helena. You’ve been away so long you’ve forgotten. Your mother will approach you when she’s ready. Tonight’s the full moon, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, yes, it is,” said Daniel, who had learned how to keep track of the stars and watched the constellations turn upside down on the long voyage to the Southern Hemisphere.

  “I think I know when and where she will be waiting for you.”

  Daniel was about to ask Charlotte how she knew when kilted Henry Porteous, with Charlotte’s kilted brother Henry in tow, pushed his way through the crowd to pump Daniel’s hand. “So pleased you’re here at last, lad,” the affable Scotsman said, “and haven’t ye grown up bonny? We’ll talk business later. The governor, no less, asked me if there may be a position for you in the Botanical Gardens, which means there certainly is. We have so much botany to discuss—boring to everyone but us, eh? Now, you do remember young Henry, don’t you?” he said, squeezing the young man’s shoulder. “I’ve adopted him.”

  “Hello, Henry,” said Daniel. “You haven’t changed a bit!”

  Henry frowned. He didn’t like being teased. “Yes, I have! I’ve grown taller than you!”

  “Henry’s done me the honor of taking my name. Now he’s Henry Porteous Knipe, even in official documents. Sounds very grand, doesn’t it? It’s all arranged,” he rushed on in his Scottish brogue. “You’re to stay with us at Porteous House until we find you permanent accommodation. The emperor’s suite has been made ready—imagine, the very same bed as Napoleon Bonaparte slept in! But that’s after you see Governor Lowe. He wants you to call on him at the Castle immediately, before the ladies eat you alive!”

  Daniel mumbled his thanks. He was distracted by the little group of officers, most of them French, who were observing him from the distance. One man in particular, who wore the uniform of a general, stared at him with an expression of undisguised hostility.

  “Who’s the Frenchie with the thunderous look?” he asked Charlotte. “For some reason he seems to have taken a violent dislike to me. I can’t imagine why.”

  “Oh, that’s General Gaspard Gourgaud. Stay away from him, dear Daniel. He’s a dangerous man.”

  “Why on earth does he look so angry? I don’t even know him!”

  “It’s a long story,” said Charlotte. “Now’s not the time to tell it.”

  Sir Hudson Lowe sat behind his black Chinese desk, which had menacing dragons carved into its legs. In front of it stood Daniel, looking ill at ease. The governor’s suspicious sideways glance had unsettled harder men.

  The interview began affably enough with the news that there might be a position for Daniel in the Botanical Gardens. Then Governor Lowe got to the point.

  “The assistance you provided His Majesty’s government in London has proved very valuable. You are instructed to continue to pass on any information that comes your way concerning Bonaparte directly to me, however trivial it might seem to you. The government, through me, gives you every assurance that this is the only way you can keep the girl called Rosebud safe from prosecution. Do I need to mention her real name?”

  He didn’t.

  “There is one further issue of some importance,” Governor Lowe went on. “There was an incident at the New Year’s ball. Some kind of altercation between your Rosebud girl and General Gaspard Gourgaud. Some sort of jealousy issue. I didn’t overhear them myself, but apparently some words were exchanged. Hurtful words. The lady in question, perhaps flushed with wine, did violence to General Gourgaud’s face. I must warn you that Gaspard Gourgaud has fought several duels during his distinguished service in the French army and won all of them. I am informed that he is once again itching to satisfy his honor. So be careful not to stir things up.” Lowe gave Daniel, who was by this time white as a sheet, a thin smile. “He’s killed three men already. It would be a pity if he made it four.”

  Charlotte wanted to be there in time for moonrise. The ill wind moaned through the crags as she hurried Daniel to the graveyard where his father and the worms that had killed him were intermingled dust. Daniel had told Charlotte nothing, as yet, of Governor Lowe’s dire warning or asked her what she’d done at the New Year’s ball tha
t had driven General Gaspard Gourgaud into a homicidal fury. What was he supposed to do? Apologize? He didn’t even know what for! Because he couldn’t fight. He’d held many a spade in his hand but never a sword, much less a loaded pistol. His chances of survival were no better than if he were blindfolded and set up against a wall by a firing squad.

  He had to know. “Charlotte, what happened at the ball?”

  “Why, we danced, of course.”

  “Stop tormenting me! You know what I mean. What happened between you and this French general Gaspard?”

  “Oh, that!” she said airily, as if it were the most trivial event in a trivial day. “He called me a trollop in public, so I slapped his face.”

  “Why?”

  “Why did I slap his face? I’ve just told you!”

  “Why did he call you a trollop?”

  “Because I wouldn’t bed him.”

  “So now he wants to kill me?”

  She raised an eloquent eyebrow. “He can hardly challenge me to a duel, now can he?”

  “Charlotte, this isn’t a joke. He’ll kill me!”

  There was a wicked hint of a humor in her green eyes. “A small price to pay for my honor, don’t you think?”

  “How can you say that?”

  “I’m teasing, of course. I won’t allow anything to happen to you.”

  With an effort, Daniel pulled himself together. He couldn’t allow her to see how afraid he was. He forced himself to change the subject.“How can you be so certain my mother will be here?” he said.

  “Because it was a full moon the night they buried your father. Just hours after his death, because of the condition of his poor body, crawling with those dreadful parasites. She has strange beliefs. You know that better than I do. She comes back every full moon, they say, to pay her respects, by dancing round and round the grave, wailing some strange song. One night I saw her with my own eyes.”

  The round rising moon was bright, but there was no dancing figure when the graveyard’s rusty gate screamed open. Instead, it seemed, Captain Daniel Hamilton’s gravestone had a twin that grew as tall as a standing woman. Daniel’s mother, Ann Isaack.

  Charlotte’s breath was hot on his cheek. “Go to her,” she said.

  Samuel Knipe, Charlotte’s rich uncle, did his best to sound cheerful when she and Daniel were shown into his bedroom the next morning. “Oh, what a fine young gentleman you’ve become!” he wheezed, scraping together his last resources to make a good first impression. “Summoned by the governor the moment you set foot on land like a visiting dignitary, I hear! What did he say to you?”

  Daniel told him what he’d told Charlotte. “He welcomed me home. Said there may be a position for me in the Botanical Gardens.”

  “Botanical Gardens my hat! Governor Lowe wanted to talk about Bonaparte, didn’t he?”

  Daniel did his best to sound offhand. “Yes, he did. Mostly wanted to know what the man on the street in London was saying about Napoleon. That sort of thing.”

  “And what did you tell him?”

  “The truth,” lied Daniel. “How everyone thought Napoleon was getting his just desserts and that the governor was right not to let him get away with his high jinks.”

  “Splendid! Lowe does keep the poor devil on a tight leash, all right. Some say too tight. Tell me, what did you make of Sir Hudson Lowe?”

  “I met him at the New Year’s ball,” Charlotte cut in. “He has a red face and red hairs growing out of his nose and ears! Goes perfectly with his angry expression!”

  Samuel ground out a dry chuckle. “Which I’m sure was in full display when one of his French guests got his face slapped in public by an outraged local lady!”

  “I don’t want to talk about it!” said Charlotte, a touch of color flying to her cheeks.

  “No need to, my dear. Everyone else is. Daniel, do tell me all about yourself. I want to hear more of your fancy new accent! Not a trace of Yamstock in it. Grown up to be quite the dandy!”

  “Uncle Samuel,” Daniel said, because he’d called him that all his life, although they weren’t actually related, as far as he knew, “I’m so sorry to hear about your health.”

  “Nonsense, my boy, no need for tears. Man shall live threescore years and ten, the Good Book says, and in my case it has already kept its promise!” He patted the bed. “Come and sit by me.” Daniel took his hand. It was cold and shriveled and covered with the blemishes of old age. “Welcome to Saint Helena, son. I wish your father had lived to see you grown so fine!” A troubled look crept into the watery eyes. “Have you visited your mother?” he asked.

  “Last night. She was at Father’s grave.”

  “I wonder how you knew she would be there,” he said with a sly glance at Charlotte.

  “I told him she goes there every full moon. She’d certainly be there the full moon her son returned.”

  Samuel had enough mischief left in him to tease her. “A fine family gathering!” He seemed to be struck by some kind of painful spasm, after which he abruptly changed his tone to one of sadness. “Poor woman, so unjustly blamed for his illness. Your father’s physician, Dr. Crout, laughed at the superstition. It was just a bad case of elephantiasis, he said. Picked up in west Africa, probably. But of course the local people blame poor Ann, because of her gypsy heritage.” He laughed, which seemed to hurt him, took back his hand, and put it on his chest. For a long moment, he closed his eyes. “But what do you expect from us ignorant islanders?”

  Daniel gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Isolated no longer, Uncle. Because Napoleon has made it the center of the world. That’s what I told Governor Lowe when he asked me what they were saying in London.”

  “What did you make of him?”

  “Charlotte’s quite right,” he said. “He does have red hairs growing out of his nostrils!”

  Samuel did his best to smile. “I didn’t ask you to come all the way out here to talk about the governor’s nose hairs,” he said. “I sent for you, Daniel, to keep a promise. Virgin Hall. Of course you know I bought it from your father shortly before his death. But what you don’t know is that he sold it to me at a substantial discount on one condition—that if you two should marry, I rent it to you at a rate you can easily afford. I gave him my word of honor.”

  Virgin Hall, its tropical fruit, its majestic view of Sandy Bay thousands of feet below! Virgin Hall, where, one hot night under a guava tree, Charlotte was very nearly a virgin no longer, her honor preserved only by the appearance of her slave, Molly, who had a suspicious nature and a loud voice that called out, “Miss Charlotte! Where is you, Miss Charlotte?” although she knew perfectly well where Miss Charlotte was and had a very good idea what she and Master Daniel were up to.

  They were to have Virgin Hall when they married!

  Samuel’s plain, unadorned statement could have been the last trump, for the impact it made on Charlotte. “Uncle Samuel!” She embraced the old man and then his old friend’s son.

  Daniel returned her hug, but his heart wasn’t in it. The trailing coat of his thoughts was snagged on the word honor. As in “honor that must be satisfied.” The wet wing of terror brushed him. A French general, a marksman, wanted to kill him.

  No one can be avoided for very long in Jamestown any more than date palms can. Daniel ran into his nemesis the next day at the Almond Tree, where Gaspard was being fawned over by Mary Porteous. Daniel would have pretended not to see him if he could. But Charlotte, arm locked in his, dragged him toward his doom.

  “Mary!” she called out, “we have the most wonderful news! Uncle Samuel is going to rent us Virgin Hall!” She pecked the newly made botanist on his rapidly blanching cheek. “But only on condition Daniel marries me! Isn’t that delicious?”

  Mary looked at Gaspard for permission to speak, but his face had suddenly set like cement neither giving permission nor withholding it. Mary jumped to her feet, kissed Charlotte on the cheek. “Be careful!” she whispered.

  Gaspard’s eyes remained r
iveted to Daniel’s face. Although he was shaking in his shoes, Daniel forced himself not to look away.

  At last the Frenchman spoke. “We have a small matter to settle, monsieur, you and I, but before we do so, you are instructed to call on the emperor with your”—he sneered in Charlotte’s direction—“companion. His Majesty hopes this afternoon at four will be convenient. Here are the passes.” He held the folded sheets of paper out languidly, pointing them at the cobbles as if they were scraps for a very tame dog. Then, very deliberately, he dropped them. Charlotte gasped. A wave of anger flushed away Daniel’s terror. He was about to say something that could have been fatal when Mary hastened to the rescue.

  “Gaspard!” she said, “you’re so clumsy, always dropping things!” As quickly as her corset would allow she picked up the passes and handed them to Daniel. “There you are!” she went on, much too brightly. “You don’t want to keep the emperor waiting!”

  Daniel’s anger was rapidly on the wane, but he summoned up enough courage to look Gaspard full in the face. The calmness in the Frenchman’s eyes brought back the damp wing of fear. It told Daniel that General Gaspard Gourgaud had looked death in the face many times and never blinked.

  Chapter 8: The Duel

  Gaspard was nowhere to be seen when they arrived at Longwood. The valet Marchand, who answered the door, told Charlotte that the emperor was in the garden and pointed out where.

  “Do I throw myself at his feet?” asked Daniel, nervous as a mouse.

  “Of course not, silly. But remember to keep you hat off, whatever you do.”

  “Ha!” crowed Napoleon, “so this is your stallion, back on the farm at last! Tell me, boy, have you rutted with your filly yet? You can tell me, because, as you can see, I have no one to gossip with. I am as alone as Jonah in the belly of the whale! What say you, Rosebud? Was he worth waiting for? You could have been rutting with Gaspard—I know he wants you. But then, he wants everything on two legs, or even four. I worry about the chastity of my goats. He even asked, very politely, for permission to bugger me! Can you believe such insolence? He is in love with my beautiful hands, you know. Perhaps he’s in love with yours, do tell…”