'Why did you want to speak to me alone, Marianne?' he asked quietly. 'Are you hoping to persuade me to undertake this ridiculous voyage to Turkey? Well, don't. I haven't come all this way to indulge Napoleon's whims again.'
'You came to find me, didn't you… so that we could begin a new life together? Then, what does it matter where we live it? Why won't you take me, if I want to go and it could be so very important to the Empire? I shan't stay long and afterwards I shall be free to go wherever you like…'
'Free? Do you mean that? Have you finally broken completely with your husband? Have you persuaded him to a divorce?'
'No, but I am still free because the Emperor says so. He has made this mission he has given me a condition of his help and I know that once I have performed it, nothing and no one will stand in the way of our happiness. It is the Emperor's wish.'
'The Emperor! The Emperor! Always the Emperor! You still talk about him as besottedly as when you were his mistress! Have you forgotten that I've rather less reason to love him? You may cherish an understandable nostalgia for the imperial bedchamber and for the life of princes and palaces. My own memories of La Force, and Bicêtre and the bagne at Brest are by far less alluring, I assure you.'
'You are unjust! You know there is nothing between me and the Emperor, and has not been for a long time, and that he really did his best to save you without upsetting a delicate diplomatic situation.'
'So I recall but I am not aware that I stand in Napoleon's debt in any way. I belong to a neutral country and I have no intention of becoming any further involved in his policies. It is enough that my country should be risking her peace abroad by refusing to take sides with England.' He took hold of her suddenly, cradling her close and laying his cheek against her forehead with a desperate tenderness.
'Marianne! Oh, Marianne! Forget all that… everything but us two! Forget Napoleon, forget that somewhere in this world there is a man whose name you bear, forget, as I have forgotten, that Pilar is still living somewhere, hidden in some remote corner of Spain, believing me still in prison and hoping I'll die there. There is only the two of us, nothing else… us two and the sea, there, right at our feet. If you will, it can carry us away tomorrow to my home. I'll take you to Carolina. I'll rebuild my parents' old house at Old Creek Town that was burned down. As far as anyone knows, you will be my wife…'
Carried away by the touch and the scent of the slender form pressed close to his, he was enveloping her again in his disturbing caresses and this time Marianne was too weak and too much enslaved to fight against it. She recalled those dizzying hours in the prison. It could all happen again so easily. Jason was hers, wholly and completely, flesh of her flesh, the man she had chosen from all others, whom no one could replace. Why, then, should she refuse the thing he offered? Why not so with him, tomorrow, to his land of liberty? After all, he might not know it but her husband was dead: she was free.
In an hour she could be aboard the Witch. She could easily tell Benielli she was going to Turkey, when all the time the ship was really sailing to freedom in America, and she, Marianne, would be lying for the first time all night long in Jason's arms, rocked on the waves, and drawing a final curtain over her past life. She could take up her own life again from where it had left off at Selton Hall, at the moment when Jason had first begged her to go with him, and in a little while she would forget all the rest: the fear, the flights, Fouché, Talleyrand, Napoleon, France and the villa of the fountains where the white peacocks roamed but where no ghostly rider in a white mask would wake the echoes any more.
But once again, as it had done earlier, her conscience awoke, a conscience which was becoming a great deal more inconvenient than she would ever have thought possible. What would happen if, during the long journey to America, she were to find herself pregnant by another man? How would she be able to deal with the situation there, in a land where she would never be out of Jason's sight for a moment, for she refused categorically to deceive him? Assuming, of course, that he did not begin to suspect anything in the course of a voyage at least twice as long as that to Constantinople!
Besides, at the back of her mind she seemed to hear Arrighi's grave voice saying: 'Only you can persuade the Sultana to keep up the war with Russia, only you can calm her anger against the Emperor, because you, like her, are Josephine's cousin. She will listen to you…'
Could she really betray the trust of the man she had once loved and who had sincerely tried to make her happy? Napoleon was relying on her. Could she deny him this one last service which was so important to him and to France? The time for love was not yet. It was still the time to be brave.
Gently, but firmly, she pushed Jason away.
'No,' she said. 'I can't. I must go. I have given my word.' He stared at her incredulously, as though she had suddenly changed before his eyes into a different creature. His dark blue eyes seemed to withdraw more deeply beneath the black brows and Marianne's heart was wrung as she read the vast disappointment in them.
'You mean – you won't come with me?'
'No, my love, it's not that I won't come. All I am asking is for you to come with me for a little while, only a few weeks. A little delay, that's all. Afterwards, I shall be all yours, heart and soul. I'll go wherever you like, to the ends of the earth if I must, and I'll live exactly as you please. But I must carry out my mission. It is too important to France.'
'France!' he said bitterly. 'That's a good one! As though France, for you, didn't mean Napoleon.'
Pained as she sensed the underlying jealousy which still persisted, Marianne gave a little, hopeless sigh and her green eyes dimmed with tears.
'Why won't you understand me, Jason? Whether you like it or not, I love my country. I have scarcely begun to know it yet and the discovery is precious to me. It is a beautiful country, Jason, noble and great! And yet I shall leave it and without regrets or heartburnings, when the time comes to go with you.'
'But that time is not yet?'
'Yes… perhaps, if you will agree to take me to meet this queer Sultana who was born so near to your own land.'
'And you say you love me?' he said.
'I love you more than anything in the world because for me you are the world, and not only that but life and joy and happiness. It's because I love you that I won't steal away like a thief. I want to stay worthy of you.'
'Words, words!' Jason shrugged furiously. The truth is that you can't bring yourself to give up, all at once, all the glittering life that was yours as someone close to Napoleon! You're young, rich, beautiful – and a Serene Highness – of all the God-damned stupid, pompous titles! And now they've sent you on an embassy to a queen! What can I offer to match that? A fairly humble existence, and not altogether respectable at that, so long as neither of us are free of our matrimonial ties. I can understand your hesitating.'
Marianne regarded him sadly.
'You're so unfair! Have you forgotten that if it hadn't been for Vidocq I would have given all that up without a moment's thought? And believe me, this voyage isn't an excuse or anything, it's a necessity. Why won't you?'
'Because it's Napoleon who sends you. Do you understand? Because I owe him nothing but humiliation, imprisonment and torture! Oh, I know, he gave me a guardian angel but if the guards had bludgeoned me to death or I'd died of my wounds, do you think he would have grieved overmuch? He'd have expressed polite regret, and then turned to something else. No, Marianne, I have no cause to serve your Emperor. Indeed, if I agreed, I should feel a fool. As for you, you may as well know that if you lack the courage to say no now, once and for all, to all that has been your life up to this moment, you'll not find it tomorrow. When this mission is accomplished, you'll find another – or another will be found for you. I'm not denying a woman like you is a valuable asset.'
'No, I swear it! I'll go away at once!'
'How can I believe you? Back in Brittany, you asked nothing better than to flee this man, yet now you want to serve him at all costs! Are you even the same
woman? The one I left would have committed any madness for my sake. This one is hidebound by respectability and won't kiss me for fear of the chambermaid's coming in! I can't help noticing it, you know.'
'What are you after? I swear to you I love you and only you, but you must take me to Turkey.'
'No.'
Uttered without anger, the word was none the less final.
'You refuse?' Marianne said dully.
'Precisely. Or rather, no. I give you the choice. I'll take you, but after that I shall sail alone for my own country.'
Marianne recoiled as though he had struck her, knocking over a small table and smashing a fragile piece of Murano glass. She sank on to the sofa where she had lain so short a while ago – a century, it seemed! She stared at Jason wide-eyed, as though seeing him for the first time. He had never looked so tall, so handsome – or so inflexible. She had believed his love was like her own, equal to anything, ready to suffer and endure anything for the sake of a few hours happiness, and how much more so for a lifetime of love. Yet now he could find it in his heart to offer her this ruthless choice.
'You could leave me – of your own will?' she asked incredulously. 'Leave me there and go away without me?'
He folded his arms across his chest and regarded her without anger but with a terrifying firmness.
'The choice is not mine, Marianne. It is yours. I want to know who is boarding the Witch tomorrow: the Princess Sant'Anna, official ambassadress of his Majesty the Emperor and King – or Marianne Beaufort.'
The sound of that name, coming so unexpectedly, when it had figured for so long in her dreams, cut her to the quick. She closed her eyes, her face as white as her dress. Her fingers curled and the nails dug into the silk upholstery, fighting off incipient panic.
'You're so hard…' she moaned.
'No. I only want to make you happy, in spite of yourself, if need be.'
Marianne gave a sad little flicker of a smile. The egotism of men! She could see it even in this man she adored, just as she had seen it in Francis, Fouché, Talleyrand, Napoleon, and even in the monster Damiani. All of them had this curious urge to make decisions about the happiness of the women in their lives, convinced that in this, as in so much else, they alone possessed the key to real wisdom and truth. They had both suffered so much from all that had come between them. Were the obstacles now going to come from Jason himself? Couldn't he subdue his overbearing pride for the sake of his love?
Once again there came the temptation, so powerful as to be almost irresistible, the temptation to give in, to cast herself into his arms and allow herself to be carried away, without further thought. She needed him so much, his strength and his man's warmth. Despite the mildness of the evening, she felt chilled to the heart. Yet, perhaps just because she had suffered so much to win this love, her pride restrained her on the very verge of yielding.
The worst of it was that she could not really blame him. From his man's point of view, he was right. But neither could she retract, or not without telling him the whole. And even then? Jason's feelings towards Napoleon had grown so very bitter!
Miserably unhappy, Marianne chose, none the less, the course that came most naturally: to fight.
She put up her head and met her lover's gaze squarely.
'I have given my word,' she said. 'It is my duty to go. If I abandoned my mission now, you might still love me as much – but you would have less respect for me. In my world, and in yours too, I think, we have always placed duty before happiness. My parents died for that belief. I will not disgrace it.'
It was said quite simply, not boasting. Merely a statement of fact.
It was Jason's turn to pale. He made as if to go to her but checked himself and bowed slightly, without a word. Then, crossing the room in a few swift strides, he opened the door and called:
'Lieutenant Benielli.'
The lieutenant appeared promptly, accompanied by Jolival, whose eyes went straight to Marianne. She avoided his anxious glance. Signor Dal Niel's grappa had evidently been to the lieutenant's taste. His face was noticeably more flushed than on his previous appearance, although he had lost none of his rigidity.
Jason studied him from his superior height with a cold and barely contained anger.
'You may return to the Duke of Padua with a quiet mind, Lieutenant. I sail at dawn tomorrow for the Bosphorus where I shall have the honour to convey the Princess Sant'Anna.'
'I have your word on that?' the other said, without emotion.
Jason's fists clenched in a visible effort not to drive them into the little Corsican's arrogant face, which must have recalled, all too clearly, another that was out of reach.
'Yes, Lieutenant,' he ground between his teeth. 'You have. And you can have something else, as well. A piece of advice. Get out of here before I give way to my inclinations.'
'Which are?'
'To throw you out of the window. It would not be good for your uniform, your fellows or your own comfort on the journey. You've won. Don't try my patience too far.'
'Oh, please, go!' Marianne breathed, terrified that the two men would come to blows.
Jolival was already laying a discreet hand on Benielli's arm. The lieutenant, while clearly dying to hurl himself at the American, had the sense to look closely at the faces of the other three. He saw that Marianne was on the verge of tears, Jason tense and Jolival anxious, and he realized that something was seriously amiss. His stiffness showed the faintest relaxation as he bowed to the young woman.
'I shall be privileged to report to the Duke that the Emperor's trust was not misplaced. May I wish your serene highness a successful voyage.'
'Accept my good wishes for your own journey. Good-bye, monsieur.'
In a moment she had turned back, imploringly, to Jason but even before Benielli had quitted the room, Jason too was bowing coldly.
'Your servant, madam. My ship will weigh anchor at ten o'clock tomorrow morning, if that suits you. It will be ample time if you are on board half an hour before that. Allow me to wish you a good night.'
'Jason! Have pity…'
She held out her hand to him, begging for him to take it, but he was encased in his anger and resentment and either did not or would not see it. Without a glance, he strode to the door and went out, letting it swing shut behind him with a bang that echoed in the very depths of Marianne's heart.
Slowly her hand fell and she threw herself sobbing on the sofa.
There, a moment or two later, Jolival found her, half-choked with tears, as he came hurrying back, sensing disaster.
'Good God!' he cried. 'Has it come to this? Whatever happened?'
With much difficulty, a good many tears and hesitations, she told him while he busied himself with a handkerchief and some cold water in trying to calm her sobs and restore her face to something like the appearance of a human being.
'An ultimatum!' Marianne hiccupped at last. 'A – a beastly b-bargain! He told m-me – told me I m-must choose… And he said it was… for my own good!'
She turned suddenly and clung to Arcadius's lapels, saying beseechingly:
'I can't… I can't bear it! Oh, my friend, for pity's sake, go and find him. Tell him…'
'What? That you've given in?'
'Yes! I l-love him… I love him s-so very much… I c-can't…' Marianne was beyond knowing or caring what she was saying now.
Jolival gripped her shaking shoulders with both hands and forced her to look at him.
'Yes, you can. I am telling you that you can, because you are right. Jason is abusing his power by offering you such a choice, because he knows how much you love him. Not that, from his point of view, he isn't right. He has little enough cause to love the Emperor.'
'He – he doesn't love me!'
'Of course he loves you. Only, what he hasn't understood is that the woman he loves is you, as you are, with all your inconsistencies and follies, all your enthusiasms and revolts. Change, make yourself into the cool, submissive person he seems to want and I
wouldn't give him six months to stop loving you.'
'Truly?'
Gradually, by dint of much persuasion, Jolival was beginning to penetrate to the slough of despond where Marianne was floundering, letting in a little air and daylight to which, unconsciously, she was already turning.
'Yes, truly, Marianne,' he said seriously.
'But, Arcadius, think what will happen at Constantinople! He'll leave me. He'll go away and I shall never see him again, never!'
'It's possible… but before that you will have lived with him, almost on top of him, in the confined space of a ship's quarters for quite a long time. If you aren't able to drive him out of his mind in that time, then you're not Marianne. Play his game for him. Let him enjoy his bad temper and the blow to his masculine pride. If anyone goes through hell, it won't be you, I promise you.'
As he talked, the light came back, little by little, to Marianne's eyes, while that other light of hope was reborn within. Meekly she drank the glass of water with a little cordial in it which he held to her lips, then, leaning on his arm, she managed to walk as far as the window.
It was dark by this time but everywhere lights shone like points of gold reflected in the dark water. A smell of jasmine floated in, along with the sound of a guitar. Down below, by the waterside, couples were drifting slowly along, pairs of dark shapes, moving close together, that melted into one. A decorated gondola passed by, steered by a lithe figure like a dancer. Light streamed golden from behind the drawn curtains, and with it came the happy note of a woman's laughter. Away beyond the Dogana di Mare, the masthead lanterns of the anchored ships swayed gently.
Marianne sighed and her hand tightened a little on Jolival's sleeve.
'What are you thinking?' he asked softly. 'Feeling better?'
She hesitated, not quite knowing how to phrase her thought, but with this one faithful friend she had no need to dissemble.
'I was thinking,' she said, somewhat regretfully, 'that it is a beautiful night for love.'
'That's true. But remember that one night lost may add to the joys of others still to come. The nights in the east are unrivalled, my child. Your Jason doesn't know yet what he is in for.'
Marianne and the Rebels Page 15
