by Regan Walker
Mary nodded. “A few. Diane Brancalis, from the south of France. She is here with her father. She reminds me of Lizzy. Perhaps it is her blue-gray eyes, or maybe it is because she is kind. Diane’s family lived through the riots in the south, though, so she is glad to be in Paris. I’m not certain where her sympathies lie, but I rather think she believes in the recent reforms. Why dwell on the past when the future is such a challenge? And there’s another young woman I am fond of as well. An Austrian, Theresa Koller.”
“That name is familiar to me. Is she the one with brown hair I saw you talking with last evening?” Lord Baynes’s eyebrows drew together as if he were trying to recall the girl.
“Yes, she has brown hair and eyes. You remember her, Uncle. Her older brother—or rather half brother—is General Koller, whom you met in Vienna on my first trip with you. Theresa’s mother is French and married General Koller’s father after his first wife died. There is quite an age difference between them. Her half-brother is more like an uncle to her, I think.”
“Ah, yes. Now I recall. General Koller is an Austrian general. He is quite popular among the allies, and I believe he enjoys a close relationship with the king.”
“Theresa has been here with her brother before and has many friends in Paris,” Mary explained. The two had met for coffee one morning after being introduced at the Tuileries, and the Austrian regaled her with stories of the former emperor. “Her stories about Napoleon could hold my attention for hours.”
Her uncle nodded. “I think you will enjoy meeting Comte Decazes, too. He is the leader of the moderate royalists in the new Chamber, and another favorite of Louis. You will no doubt approve of his ideas. They could result in great economic rewards for France if he succeeds in seeing them implemented. I am trying to assist him in the meetings where he sets forth the reform he seeks. He brings a balance to the extreme ideas of the ultra royalists—and of course as minister of police he is the one who must rein in the ultra royalists’ excesses.”
The carriage slowed and Mary peered out the open window to see an elegant three-story town house with a chateau roof and decorative iron fence and gate. Behind the fence was a small but well designed garden. Pink rhododendrons bloomed on either side of the black front door, and there was a tall wisteria vine flowing down the corner of the town house like a lavender waterfall.
The front door opened as they stepped out of the coach and approached. Just outside, a butler greeted them and accepted her uncle’s hat. Just behind him, standing in the entry, was a handsome man with brown hair Mary judged to be in his middle thirties.
“Welcome, Lord Baynes.”
“Comte Decazes. How good of you to invite my niece and me to tea—a concession for you French, I imagine.”
“C’est bon. We enjoy tea as well as coffee. We do.” He smiled at Mary and added, “Is this your lovely niece I’ve heard so much about?”
“Yes, Comte, this is Lady Mary Campbell.”
Mary curtsied briefly and allowed the comte to bow over her extended hand. “Enchanté. You are as charming as I have heard. But I have also heard of your intelligence, so it is with great anticipation that I look forward to our conversation.”
“You are very kind, Comte.” Mary gave him a sweet smile, but before she could say more another man approached, a slightly younger version of the comte with light brown hair curled around the edges of his face. His dark blue eyes stared intently at her.
“Your Excellence, Lady Mary, this is my younger brother Joseph, Vicomte Decazes. He often assists me in my work when he can be pried from his own assignments with the new government.”
The vicomte acknowledged her uncle and then turned back to Mary. “Lady Mary, you must allow me to show you some of my favorite places in Paris.”
She liked his face. Both he and his older brother were handsome men. “I would be most happy to accept your invitation, Vicomte, providing my uncle agrees.”
Her uncle winked at the comte. “I think it a splendid idea. Mary has been eager to see your beautiful city. The last time we were here, she spent most of her days in our apartments.”
The vicomte’s expression showed his distress over learning this fact. “C’est terrible! Had I but known…. But of course I will make it up to you. You shall see some of the sights that Paris is best known for, and I can also introduce you to some of our more interesting citizens. With the king restored, some of those we thought lost have returned. I think you would enjoy meeting Germaine de Stael.”
Mary enthused, “Oh, I would! I have read her books and find them fascinating.”
The group continued talking, as the comte directed them into the parlor and offered his regrets that his wife was not available to join them. Mary was immediately struck by the bright rose brocade sofas and the elegant draped table set with tea and pastries. As they sat, her uncle elaborated.
“Mary, King Louis calls Germaine de Stael ‘a Chateaubriand in petticoats.’”
Mary did not hide her puzzlement.
“It was quite a compliment, Lady Mary.” The vicomte smiled at her as he spoke, or at least his blue eyes did. “Chateaubriand is considered the intellectual hero of the royalists.”
“So it wasn’t criticism.” Mary had wondered.
“Ah, no, Louis is very fond of her,” Comte Decazes interjected. “He respects her mind as well. He enjoys the wit of Chateaubriand, so the comparison only conveyed his favor.”
Mary recalled the last book she had read by the woman. “I have read Madame de Stael’s De l’Allemagne. It is an amazing study of German culture.”
“Pity Napoleon didn’t think so,” the comte stated. “Madame de Stael believed Germany had some things to teach France, and the suggestion so inflamed the emperor he expelled her from the country.”
His brother eagerly chimed in. “Once Napoleon was gone, she was anxious to return to Paris and has taken apartments here. I think you will want to hear her insights on all that has happened in Europe. Something tells me she will like you very much.”
“I hope you don’t find her too inspiring, Mary,” her uncle remarked with a look of both amusement and concern. “Madame de Stael chose a difficult path being so bold.”
Mary would not be discouraged. Women like Germaine de Stael were rare. “I can think of nothing I would enjoy more than meeting her.”
After that, Mary sipped her tea and listened to the men talk politics. Occasionally she would make a comment or ask a question, but surprisingly her thoughts kept drifting to a tall, dark British lord who had somehow taken root in her mind—and, she worried, in her heart. He was a man of many women, however, with very conventional ideas about a woman’s role: limited apparently to his bed and the home. And, he was clearly not looking for a wife. Not that she was looking for a husband.
She banished thoughts of Ormond and concentrated instead on the comte and his younger brother, both of whom were expounding on the need for certain changes in leadership. Yes, Paris would be good for her. Some time away from England, some time away from that enticing man with the brandy-colored eyes.
* * *
Adrian helped Mary into their carriage, curious to know her reaction. “What did you think of them?”
“They are men with brave ideas,” his niece replied. “I can see why you find the comte’s thoughts encouraging. He strikes a middle road that France appears to need sorely. And the vicomte is most charming.”
“He seemed quite taken with you,” Adrian noted.
“He seemed a puzzle to me. He is polished and polite, of course. Very charming, very French. But I have a feeling much lies beneath the surface. It’s in his eyes.”
The vicomte had a hidden life, as Adrian was well aware. The Frenchman was one of the Crown’s agents in France. As such, he would have two identities and two masters, though if such became known it would jeopardize his work. And still in the back of Adrian’s mind was the thought that someone had passed England’s intelligence to the French. Could it have been the vicomte?
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“Would you rather not accept the vicomte’s invitation to tour Paris?”
“Oh, no,” Mary replied. “I look forward to seeing the city with him. He is very pleasant, and I think quite safe. I can always invite Diane and Theresa, too. They will want to meet Madame de Stael if they can. Besides,” she added with an impish smile, “with the vicomte’s kind invitation, I won’t have to spend all my days reading in your apartments.”
Adrian sighed, but it was safer to imagine her exploring the city with the vicomte available to protect her. “At least he is a gentleman, and his carriage is accompanied by footmen with weapons, should they be needed.”
* * *
The vicomte quickly made good on his promise, Mary was pleased to discover.
“Where are you off to this fine day?” her uncle asked, gazing at her over the edge of his newspaper, Le Moniteur, as he took a bite of sausage. In addition to the meat, the breakfast table was laden with fruit and eggs and the French pastries Mary loved, but she was too excited to eat.
“The vicomte has arranged for Diane, Theresa and me to call upon Madame de Stael. My head is spinning with all I want to ask! I have admired her for so long.”
“You will find her most amusing, though her ideas are somewhat unique. If my memory serves, I met her when she was in Vienna. Like that Pascal character you love, she will encourage you to think.”
“She already has, Uncle. I have read more than one of her works. Her novel Corinne taught me much about Italy.”
Her uncle set down his newspaper and made a prediction. “Germaine de Stael may be the most brilliant woman of our time, Mary. At the very least she is the most intelligent woman in France. Her battle against Napoleon lasted for years and demonstrated great courage. You will think her a kindred spirit for her defense of individual freedoms, particularly for women.”
That afternoon, Mary discovered her uncle’s words to be true as she and her companions sat clustered in the Paris apartments where Germaine de Stael shared her thoughts on the changing face of Europe. The vicomte observed the show from the side, and judging by his many smiles he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.
The politics were fascinating, but another topic ultimately became the subject of the day. They were talking of de Stael’s past when Diane asked, “Madame de Stael, you are a woman of wisdom concerning men. Will you tell us of your opinion of them and of love?”
Mary had been aware of Germaine’s passionate nature. She had found satisfaction in many lovers, sometimes carrying on several relationships at the same time. This was widely known, so it was not surprising the conversation eventually turned to matters of the heart.
“Bon Dieu,” de Stael remarked, “what a question! And call me Germaine, ma petite,” she said to the dark-haired girl. Sitting back, she grinned at the eager faces before her and relented. “I suppose I should not be surprised you ask. I have been open about my lovers, though it has been a while since I have thought much about love. While it may be the whole history of a woman’s life, it is only an episode in a man’s.”
Mary frowned. “That is rather discouraging.” It was what she feared most when she thought about Ormond.
“You may find it discouraging,” said Germaine, “but I find it to be true. Perhaps it is one reason I had so many lovers.” Theresa nodded agreement, and the older woman continued. “In so many things one must choose whether to be bored or to suffer. I chose to suffer.”
Sadness gripped Mary at the woman’s words. She hated boredom, but she had no desire to suffer, either, particularly not for the sake of love. “I do hope those are not the only choices.”
The vicomte, who had been quietly listening, turned his intense blue eyes on her. “I am certain they are not, Lady Mary.”
The only response to his encouragement Mary could muster was a faint smile.
As Decazes escorted the young women home in his carriage, his eyes watched Mary, though his words were for all three. “I hope you found this afternoon interesting, Lady Mary, mademoiselles.”
Mary and the others nodded.
“She has seen so much in her life,” said the brown-eyed Theresa. “It is too bad she and Napoleon were ever at odds.”
“I could listen to her all day,” said Mary, “but still, one can hope for a more optimistic future than a choice between boredom and suffering. I know a truly independent woman will encounter obstacles. Germaine certainly has, and perhaps it is inevitable—”
The vicomte’s blue eyes sparkled. “You can be independent and still find love, Lady Mary. I promise.”
Mary returned his gaze. “It seems Germaine has done just that, though I would not follow her example. So many lovers seems the way of pain to me.” She wanted only one, and that one would have to be a man who would love her as her father had loved her mother or she’d prefer none.
The look the vicomte gave her made the heat rise in her cheeks. Mary realized she knew very little about him, and yet he intrigued her. She was certain he harbored secrets and wondered what they might be.
Decazes helped her down from the carriage when they arrived back at her uncle’s apartments and walked her to the door. “I will see Theresa and Diane home, but I wanted to ask if you might like to see Notre Dame with me?”
“The great cathedral? Oh, yes! I would like that very much. The tales I have heard suggest it is a wondrous place.”
“I am quite fond of it,” the French nobleman replied. “Bon. With your permission, I’ll call for you tomorrow morning.”
She did not refuse.
Her uncle was waiting for her in the parlor when Mary came in. “Good, you’re back. Did you enjoy Germaine de Stael as much as I said you would?”
She dropped into a chair next to him. “Oh, yes. She is an amazing woman, like a great cup brimming over with knowledge. She has so much to say that one visit is not enough. I want to see her again.”
“Well,” her uncle replied, “you might see her tonight. We dine at the Tuileries with the leaders in the king’s government. Some of the ministers I’ve been meeting with will be there, and I think you’ll find them interesting.”
“Will we see the king?” she asked hopefully.
“I think not,” Lord Baynes admitted. “He has been unwell, and recently his condition has worsened, so I expect he will avoid the evening festivities.”
“Do you know him well, Uncle? I have yet to catch even a glimpse of him, though I know he meets with the ministers and military leaders.”
“I first met him when he lived at Hartwell House in England during the latter part of his exile. We became friends. He is well-read with a great wit, and both a charming companion and an insightful leader.”
“Diane and Theresa have told me stories of him,” Mary replied. “Diane especially admires the king.”
Her uncle nodded. “It is too bad he is so affected by age and ill health, because his wisdom is much needed. I am afraid at this stage obesity and gout have taken their toll. Though, even with his health issues he has managed to put some good ministers in place. You should have a chance to meet them. They will all be there tonight.”
Chapter 11
Mary was on her way to dress for the evening and paused on the stairs. “Shall I wear the rose gown, Uncle?”
“I think that would be very nice,” Lord Baynes replied, standing near the bottom landing. “You will certainly gain compliments and yet look the young lady you are. They already consider you unique, and that is to your advantage. But do be careful if you listen in on others’ conversations as you are wont to do.”
She took that as license to listen in on others’ conversations. After all, French wine flowed freely at the Tuileries Palace, and wine freed tongues. It would make the evening more interesting if she was engaged in a task to help her uncle, though Mary also knew why her uncle had told her to be careful. It was difficult to say what would happen if she was caught eavesdropping.
They arrived at the palace to see uniformed men at the outer
doors dressed in the blue, silver and red of Louis XVIII’s livery. Their white trousers and stockings were immaculate above silver buckled shoes.
Mary took her uncle’s arm as they entered the large room where the reception was being held. The décor was opulent. Even the walls were gilded, and the furniture fairly glowed in reflection in the many large mirrors. White and gold satin brocade chairs in small groupings at the corners of the room encouraged more intimate conversation. The vaulted ceiling was adorned with paintings, drawing the eye upward. Exquisite crystal chandeliers created prisms of dazzling light. The art on the walls was old and classic in its style, showing scenes of France’s history and its royalty.
“Uncle, have you ever seen such a fine gallery of the royal and noble?”
Her uncle smiled at her. “The allies raided the Louvre—or as Napoleon called it, the Musée Napoléon—just before the king arrived in Paris, eager to recover the art the emperor stole from them. Some of the museum’s walls were left empty while others held only empty frames. Can you imagine? Even so, there was much art left in Paris. But some of the portraits you see were brought back with the Bourbons when they returned.”
Mary surveyed the gathered assemblage. The allied military officers clustered together like proud roosters, their uniforms bright with color and rank. Diplomats like her uncle and the French ministers wore dark jackets, silk waistcoats and fine trousers. The women, dressed in beautiful silks, satins and brocades, decorated the room like flowers in a garden. Mary was reminded that, as with her trip here the December before, the colors were brighter and the necklines lower than in London. It was Paris, after all.
Conversations were already erupting into a cacophony of sound as servants passed silver trays of champagne and tongues loosened in response. From across the room, Joseph Decazes’s head rose as he spotted Mary, and he quickly came to her side.
“Bonsoir, Lady Mary, Lord Baynes.”
It is easy to smile at him. His dark blue eyes welcomed her, and Mary gladly allowed him to sweep her off to introductions to his many friends.
