The Launching of Roger Brook rb-1

by Dennis Wheatley

  "How wondrous strange," she murmured, when he had done. "Just to think 'twas that absurd doll of mine which caused you to conceal your true identity for so long. And 'tis more like a fairy tale than ever that my miller's youngest son should transpire to be a Chevalier."

  Although he knew within himself that he was on hopeless ground, the brightness of her eyes encouraged him to say: "Think you that if I disclosed the truth to your father he could be brought to consider me as a suitor to your hand? 'Twould mean our waiting for some years yet, but if he'd agree and give me his countenance I might, by that time, have made enough money to purchase an estate."

  "Nay, Rojé, nay," she said sadly. "Put such thoughts from your mind, I beg. My father would never consent to have me unmarried for so long. Besides, he will require me to marry into one of the best famihes in France; so that even if, by some miracle, the King made you a Count to-morrow, he would still not consider you a suitable husband for me. There is, too, another thing. All Englishmen are Protestants, are they not?"

  "Not all, but the vast majority; and I am one. I visited Saint Melaine only to see you; and have gone to other Catholic churches while in France simply so that I should not be thought irreligious."

  "Would you be willing to become a Catholic?"

  Her question was one that had never even occurred to him and with his upbringing, such a step seemed a terrible one to take. "I— I've never thought about it," he stammered. "But I fear I'd be very loath to change my religion."

  "There, you see!" she squeezed his hand. "And, my father apart, I could never bring myself to wed a heretic. 'Twas decreed in heaven that we should never marry, so 'tis best that we should resign ourselves to that."

  "Though it breaks my heart, I must confess you right," he murmured sadly. "Yet 'tis more than I can bear, to think of you married to another."

  They were silent for a moment then she said softly: " Tis time you left me. Kiss me again before you go and think not too gloomily upon the future. Such marriages as mine will be are not of the heart but of convention, and entered into only for the uniting of two great families. What does it matter who I marry so long as you know that my heart is yours and that 'tis you I love.

  CHAPTER XIX

  THE BIRTHDAY PARTY

  ON Roger's arrival in Paris, M. de Rochambeau gave only a moment to Athenais's letter. Having read it quickly through he remarked that the delay in Roger's return appeared to have been fully justified, and ordered him to draft a reply to the effect that, under Chenou's escort, Mademoiselle should proceed to her aunt's at St. Briac as soon as she felt well enough to do so. He then plunged into current business.

  It was soon clear that the Marquis, having failed in his attempt to block the Anglo-French commercial treaty, had now turned his attention to the United Provinces, and that during the past month, he had informed himself in great detail as to the affairs of that troubled country; so Roger got down to mastering such information on the subject as was at his disposal.

  He knew already that it was the French influence with the Republican party that had dragged the Dutch into the war against England in 1780, and that although the war had cost the Dutchmen dear it had done a great deal to strengthen anti-British feeling. French intervention in the dispute over the opening of the Scheldt had saved the Dutch from having to engage in a desperate struggle against Austria, and this had been followed immediately by a Franco-Dutch alliance, which, during the past year, had done much to further strengthen the good will between the two nations to the detriment of Britain.

  Meanwhile, with the rise of French influence, the situation of the Stadtholder had become even more precarious. His mother had been an English Princess and his wife, now that Frederick the Great was dead, was the sister of the new King of Prussia, Frederick-William II; but neither power was in a position to sway the councils of his unruly States-General in his favour. Fourteen months before, he had been driven from The Hague and forced to take refuge in Gelderland, the only one of his provinces still loyal to him, and ever since the country had been in a state of increasing unrest.

  On going into matters Roger found that a new crisis had occurred just before he had left for Becherel. The States of Gelderland had advised William V to take military possession of two towns in that province, which, in defiance of his prerogative, had named their own magistrates. His doing so had resulted in the rebellious States of Holland passing a motion suspending him from his office of Captain-General, and he had appealed to his brother-in-law to maintain him in his authority. Instead of sending armed support, the King of Prussia had sent only a special emissary, in the person of Baron Gortz, to argue with the leaders of the Republican party.

  These were Mynheers Van Berkel, Gyzlaas and Zeebergen, the Pensionaries of Amsterdam, Dordrecht and Haarlem respectively. With a few others they appeared to be in complete control of the provinces of West Friesland, Holland, Zealand and Utrecht; and were concerned in a plot to deprive the Stadtholder of his office and declare it no longer hereditary in his family.

  Any such move, Roger felt, must result in war; since, if England and Prussia were pushed to it they would support the Stadtholder by force of arms; and, for the moment, he could not see what M. de Rochambeau stood to gain by an outbreak of hostilities. France was now nearer to bankruptcy than ever, and could not possibly afford to fight. Civil war in the United Provinces could, therefore, only mean that the Stadtholder, backed by France's enemies, would triumph over the Republicans, and the great influence that France had acquired in the country by peaceable means be lost to her.

  That factor was evidently fully appreciated by M. de Vergennes, as it emerged that he was on the point of sending a special mission to the Stadtholders' Court to collaborate with Baron Gortz and the British Minister, Sir James Harris, in an attempt to reconcile William V and his numerous provincial Parliaments. But, as the Marquis was always opposed to M. de Vergennes's pacific policies, Roger felt certain that M. de Rochambeau's sudden preoccupation with Dutch politics was inspired by some deep-laid scheme that boded no good to Britain, and he determined to get to the bottom of it if he possibly could.

  His belief was confirmed a few days later when the Marquis, displaying high good humour, informed him that M. de Rayneval had been appointed Ambassador Extraordinary to their High Mightinesses the States-General of the United Provinces; since he already knew that this high official of the French Foreign Ministry was the creature of M. de Rochambeau and his friends, and would follow their secret instructions to the detriment of those given to him by his Minister.

  On the 18th of November the Court returned from Fontainebleau to enter on its winter season of endless amusements. The move alone cost a small fortune, as Roger learned in conversation with the secretary of the Due de Polignac, who, as Intendant-General de Postes, was responsible for arranging such royal journeys. No less than three thousand one hundred and fifty post horses had had to be placed at the Court's disposal for four days or more, to the great detriment of all ordinary travel facilities. Yet this was but a drop in the ocean of money required for the maintenance of the Court.

  The Sovereigns seemed to have no idea that money, like grain or any other commodity, was not unlimited, and took time and effort to produce. The establishment of the Queen, exclusive of the salaries of her principal officers of State, had that year amounted to thirty-eight millions of francs. The King's expenditure was naturally far greater and, in addition, he was spending huge sums on building additional wings to his palaces at Rambouillet, Compiegne and Fontainebleau, and declared that next year a thorough renovation of the whole of the great palace of Versailles would be absolutely necessary.

  Everyone knew that a crash was inevitable, and it was an open secret that M. de Calonne was now at his wits' end to supply the unceasing demands that the King made upon him. For three years he had juggled with the finances of France with all the ability of a super crook, but the day of reckoning was fast approaching. To stave it off he was resorting to the most desperate
expedients. The Corporation of Paris decided to spend three millions a year for some time to come on public works, so he forced them to borrow thirty millions at once, left them three and took the other twenty-seven into the Treasury, promising to pay it back as required, as at that junction he could think of no other way of meeting the pensions due to certain courtiers.

  The irresponsibility of these favoured few was equalled only by their arrogance, and in December, Roger heard of a particularly flagrant example of it. The Archbishop of Cambrai being out on a shooting party, trespassed on the property of one of his neighbours. Upon the gamekeeper of the adjoining property protesting, the Archbishop did not even deign to reply, but turned his gun on the man and shot him, wounding him grievously.

  Yet, even at the height of the Treasury's embarrassments, the King did not cease from ordering new battleships to be built, or M. de Calonne from financing the most wildcat schemes. One, that aroused much public interest, was put forward by a Monsieur Montgolfier who asserted that he had discovered a method of directing the flight of balloons and could run an air-freight service between Paris and Marseilles at a profit.

  Roger was reminded by this of M. Joseph Fouché, who had given as his reason for blackmailing old Aristotle Fenelon his need for money to finance balloon experiments; and he wondered what had become of the lanky, corpselike Oratorian teacher. On Roger's remarking one morning to a group of people at the Abbe1 de Perigord's, on M. de Calonne's folly in adding to his difficulties by backing such hare­brained ventures, the Comte de Mirabeau, who was among them, declared with a laugh:

  " 'Tis not that he has the faintest hope of profiting by it, but seeks to divert the people's attention from far graver issues. He is endeavouring to buy time by the old expedient of giving the populace 'bread and games.'"

  "He would be in no need to provide the latter could he but find the means to purchase the former," smiled de Perigord.

  "You have said it, Abbé," agreed the pockmarked Count. " 'Tis certain now that half France will be faced with starvation again this winter; and, whether the King likes it or not, before the year is out he will be forced to call an Assembly of Notables. 'Tis the only resource he has left for pulling the country out of the mess it is in."

  "But surely that would be tantamount to a surrender of the Royal prerogative and the granting of a Constitution," Roger objected.

  The Count shook his leonine head. "Not necessarily. The nobility, the clergy and the provincial Parliaments would all be represented in an Assembly of Notables, so they would, in the main, express the will of the nation. They would be asked to recommend measures for getting us out of our difficulties; but the monarch would not be bound to accept their advice. Yet it would be a step in the right direction, since once such a body is assembled who knows what powers it might not decide to take into its own hands. Maybe 'twould be the beginning of getting our addle-pated King where we want him."

  "Think you the Court is not also aware of that?" said the elegant Louis de Narbonne, with a cynical smile. "And 'tis for that reason the Royal Council will use all their weight to prevent such a project. No Assembly of Notables has been convened since 1626, and after having managed for a hundred and sixty years without consulting the nation 'tis unthinkable that the Court should expose itself to the perils of doing so now."

  Nevertheless, de Mirabeau proved the truer prophet, for so desperate were the straits in which M. de Calonne found himself by the end of the year that, on the 30th December, he himself advised the King to convene the Notables.

  At this news public excitement reached fever pitch throughout the length and breadth of France, but with Roger it barely registered, as he heard that day that Athenais was expected back in Paris early in January.

  She arrived on the eighth; Roger's nineteenth birthday. When asked his age he still gave it as two years more than was the fact but in both appearance and manner he now looked all of twenty-one. During his 'teens he had had the good fortune to grow steadily, so that he had developed into a tall, dark young man nearly six feet in height and with shoulders in due proportion.

  He was out, on a mission for the Marquis, at the time of Athenais's arrival; but, having learned of it on his return, he hung about the upper hall that evening in order to see her on her way to join her father in the drawing-room, before they went in to dinner. As she came down the passage she was giving an arm to Madame Marie-Ange, who, he thought, had aged greatly in the past few months and was walking slowly with the aid of an ebony stick.

  They both stopped to greet him with the utmost kindness, and remained talking to him for a few moments. Athenais was looking ravishing after her sojourn by the sea, and her eyes sent him the sweetest messages that she could not voice in front of her duenna. He had been puzzling his wits for weeks past as to how he could communicate with her in secret on her return, but he dared not trust any of the servants and had decided that he must wait to see how the land lay when she was actually in residence. To his joy she had evidently been thinking on the same lines and gave him there and then the opportunity that he was seeking.

  "Monsieur Breuc," she said sweetly, "you are so knowledgeable about books, and now that I am back in Paris I wish to read all the new ones that have been published during my long absence. I pray you make out a list of the best titles and bring it to me in my boudoir some time to-morrow morning."

  "I will do so with pleasure, Mademoiselle," he replied, hiding by a low bow the delight he could not prevent showing in his face.

  As they turned away from him the footman-in-waiting threw open the door of the drawing-room, and Roger caught a glimpse of its interior. The Marquis was standing near the fireplace, magnificent as ever in satin and lace, and with him was a younger man, much more plainly dressed.

  The visitor was about twenty-five years of age, tall, well-built, and good-looking. Roger could not suppress a twinge of jealousy at the thought that this handsome stranger was about to dine with Athenais; and his jealousy was by no means lessened when, on mquiring of Monsieur Roland later that evening, he learned how the young man came to be there.

  "He is the son of M. de la Tour d'Auvergne," the major-domo informed him, "and he escorted Mademoiselle from St. Brieuc to Paris. I have it from his valet that he met Mademoiselle at her aunt's and has formed an attachment to her; so decided to accompany her hither."

  Somewhat perturbed, Roger made his way to his room. He could not possibly complain of Athenais's reception of him, yet it was something of a shock to think that she had actually brought a suitor for her hand to Paris with her. Of the young man he knew nothing, except that his lineage was irreproachable. The family of de la Tour d'Auvergne was as old as that of Hugh Capet who had founded the Royal dynasty of France. There were streets in half the towns of Brittany named after them and Roger recalled having heard it said that, so proud were they of their name that, centuries ago, they had taken for their motto: "I am not Marquis, Duke or Prince; I am de la Tour d'Auvergne," so it seemed unlikely that M. de Rochambeau could have any grounds for refusing to give the young man his daughter.

  Roger tried to console himself with the thought that since Athenais must marry someone during the coming summer, and it could not be himself, it was fortunate for her that it should be a man of a suitable age and pleasing appearance. He then sat down to write her a long love letter, putting into it all the things he had thought of and would have liked to include in letters to her, had he dared to write to her during the past two months. After which he made out the list of books, and went to bed.

  In the morning, as soon as the Marquis had settled himself in his sanctum, he called Roger in and said to him:

  "Breuc, we have a visitor staying with us; M. le Vicomte de la Tour d'Auvergne. You will, of course, know the name. His is one of the few great families that have consistently rejected the blandishments of the Court for the past three reigns; preferring to live in the old feudal manner on their estates rather than succumb to the attractions of Versailles. In consequence, M.
le Vicomte has never before been in Paris; but he now plans to spend some months here. He will require a lodging, but it should not be too expensive, as his family is only moderately well off. As he does not know the town, I wish you to wait upon him this afternoon and go out with him in search of accommoda­tion suited to his means."

  Having assured the Marquis of his diligence in the matter, Roger returned to his work, then at midday went up to Athenais's boudoir.

  Madame Marie-Ange was there with her and, in front of the duenna. Athenais treated him with casual friendliness; but, in the course of ten minutes' conversation on the most successful novels of the day, he managed to pass her his letter and receive one from her.

  Immediately he had taken leave of them he rushed up to his room to read it:

  Roger, my dear one,

  The joy of beholding you again yesler 'een was almost unbearable, but I beg you for my sake to use the greatest circumspection. Madame Marie-Ange has I am sure guessed our love but little knows that we have confessed it to one another. She has a great affection for me and a high regard for you. But her sense of duty is stronger than either sentiment and were she to discover that our lips had met she would surely denounce us to my father. For me that would mean confinement within the grey walls of a convent, perhaps for life, and for you such dire punishment as makes me swoon to think upon. Therefore let utmost caution ever be your watchword in all our dealings.

  I have give much thought as to how we may at times be together yet keep our secret, and have devised a plan. There is at the top of the house in its east wing an old playroom. 'Tis dusty and neglected and no one ever goes there. I could on occasion, but not too frequently, go up there to seek out some old book or toy without arousing suspicion. Inquire circumspectly as to its situation and seek if there is not a way by which you could reach it, without danger to yourself across the roof. Its window looks out on some leads so can you but reach them unobserved 'twould be easy for me to admit you, and no one could observe me doing so from the street or any other window of the house.