Packing had started, the house was already upside down and arrangements had been made for the Borgheses to set out for Italy in three days’ time. Roger did his best to console Pauline, but he was able to make her forget that she was being driven into exile only for the duration of a last long passionate embrace. Then they took a sad farewell of one another.
Had Roger not learned of Pauline’s infidelity he would have felt their parting much more grievously; but his love affair with her had lasted, with only the two-month interval he had spent at Bruges, for very nearly a year, so the edge had already been taken off their physical desire. Even so, her going left a sad gap in his life and he continued to think of her with longing. Then, early in December, he was given a far more serious matter to think about.
Somewhat to his surprise he received a politely worded letter from Talleyrand, not inviting him to supper but requesting him to come the following evening to St. Cloud to discuss a certain matter. Having ridden out through the Bois to the Palace in its well-wooded grounds on the far bank of the Seine, Roger enquired for the Foreign Minister and was shown up to a magnificent apartment.
The tall windows were now screened by curtains of blue satin embroidered with the golden eagles and bees that Napoleon had already taken as his emblems. The furniture was of gilt and marble embellished with sphinx’s heads and winged griffons which was to become known to posterity as ‘Empire’. Talleyrand was seated there behind a vast desk, as impeccably dressed and smiling as ever. As Roger bowed to him, he said:
Cher ami, I must apologise for having brought you all the way from Paris, but our little man has now insisted that I should spend a certain amount of my time here. At least he has had the decency to provide me with a pleasant setting for me to take my naps between attending to tiresome business.
Do you approve it?’
Roger glanced round and smiled, ‘Your Excellency was born of a princely family and even a Prince could not complain about having to work in such luxurious surroundings.’
‘True, true, cher Colonel. But alas, work I must to justify these trappings. And I need your advice. Your mother, I recall, was a Scottish lady.’
‘Yes,’ replied Roger, somewhat surprised. ‘She was a McElfic and a daughter of the then Earl of Kildonan.’
‘Then my memory has not failed me. And he was a Jacobite, was he not?’
‘Yes. He led his clan in the rising of ‘45, which sought to place Prince Charles Edward on the throne of his Stuart ancestors. After its failure the Earl was heavily penalised and all but a small part of his lands were confiscated. Naturally he became embittered on that account and remained a staunch Jacobite. He would have followed the Pretender to Rome had his health permitted. As things were, you can imagine the antagonism with which he would have regarded a match between his daughter and my father, Admiral Sir Christopher Brook, who was a staunch Hanoverian. In consequence, they eloped and married without his consent; so my contact with my Scottish relatives has always been exceedingly slender.’
Talleyrand nodded, ‘That is unfortunate, because it was information on the present feeling of Jacobites in Scotland that I sought from you. Ireland, of course, has long been a thorn in Britain’s side, and by stirring up trouble there we have several times made good use of it. But it has now occurred to our master that when the invasion of England takes place we might also create a valuable diversion by making a landing in Scotland and rousing the Jacobites there against their Hanoverian King. What think you of the prospects of such a project?’
Roger shook his head, ‘Far from good. The rebellion of ‘45 took place nearly sixty years ago. The Hanoverian Kings have since then ruled Scotland wisely, on a light rein, and won over the greater part of the country’s inhabitants. Only a few die-hards would again take up arms against King George and most of those, like my cousin the present Earl, are powerless to raise their clans because they have for long lived abroad, to begin with as exiles at the Court of the Pretender in Rome and since his death either there or at other places on the Continent.’
With a quiet smile Talleyrand said, ‘That is much as I supposed. It seems though that you are not aware that your cousin died above a year ago.’
Suddenly an alarm bell began to ring in Roger’s brain. After a slight hesitation he said, ‘No. I did not know that. And I am sorry to hear it, for he was the last of his line and the peerage has become extinct upon his death.’
Talleyrand took snuff, flicked the fallen grains from his lace cravat and remarked with, for him, unusual gravity, ‘Enquiries through our Ambassador in Rome about these Jacobite nobles has led to my receiving certain authentic information about them. Over three years ago your cousin was knocked down by a runaway horse. The injuries he sustained were so serious that he was never afterwards able to do more than limp about the apartment that he occupied. He met his death when his crutch slipped on a polished floorboard and he fell down the stairs, breaking his neck. It is, therefore, obvious that it could not have been he whom Duroc mistook for you when in St. Petersburg. What have you to say about that?’
20
Poised on the Precipice
The alarm bell that had begun to tinkle in Roger’s brain a few minutes earlier suddenly increased to a shrill clangour. He knew Talleyrand far too well not to realise now why he had been sent for. It was not to get his opinion on the chances of stirring up a Jacobite rising in Scotland. That had been only his devious lead in—the sort of cat and mouse game that he loved—before resurrecting this dangerous question of the identity of the man Duroc had met in Moscow.
Masking his perturbation with a shrug, Roger replied, ‘Then since it could not have been my cousin it must have been some other person who closely resembles me.’
Talleyrand had ceased to smile as he asked, ‘And who could be so near a twin to yourself as that English Admiral’s son, Mr. Roger Brook?’
Roger had rarely felt less like laughing; but he threw back his head, chuckled and said, ‘Oh come, Excellence! To you it has been no secret since we first met that he and I are one and the same person. But you will recall that within a fortnight of Duroc’s having imagined that he saw me in St. Petersburg I attended a reception you gave in the Rue du Bac. For me to have made such a journey in so short a time would have been utterly impossible.’
‘I wonder,’ the Minister picked up an ivory paper-knife and began to twirl it between his elegant hands. ‘Impossible I grant you to all but a very few exceptionally determined men capable of great endurance … such as yourself.’
‘You flatter me mightily by the comparison.’ Roger made a little bow. ‘But I do protest. After being wounded at Marengo I could not possibly have travelled at such speed over a distance of seventeen hundred miles.’
Still unsmiling, Talleyrand returned the bow, ‘I congratulate you on your knowledge of geography. It must be considerable to be able to give the distance between the two capitals without reference to a map.’
Silently Roger cursed himself for having made such a slip, while the deep melodious voice went on, ‘As to your wound, a year had elapsed since Marengo; ample time for your health to have been fully restored. Yet, I recall, you arrived at my reception so exhausted that you could hardly stand and I sent you off to bed. Your explanation was that you had just returned from recuperating at your château in the south of France, that to test your recovery you had ridden thirty leagues that day, and it had proved too much for you. Might the fact not have been that you had fully recovered and were exhausted from having ridden fifty leagues?’
That was indeed the distance Roger had ridden. Intensely anxious now about the outcome of this interview, he could only hope that Talleyrand was simply fishing and had no definite information to support his evident suspicious. Raising a smile, he said in as light a tone as he could manage:
‘That is a hundred and fifty English miles; and even before Marengo I could ne’er have done it. For the life of me I cannot imagine what could have put such an idea into Your Excellency’
s head.’
Talleyrand ceased toying with the paper-knife, laid it down and said with cold deliberation, ‘Then I will tell you. Reluctant as I have ever been to give my mind to business, I much enjoy allowing it to roam in idle speculation. From the first Duroc’s report intrigued me and, knowing your antecedents, I wondered if it could possibly have been you that he met in St. Petersburg. The alibi you produced appeared indestructible; but when some weeks ago I received a report about the Jacobite nobles living in exile in Rome and learned that it could not possibly have been the Lord Kildonan that Duroc saw, I once more began to speculate upon the matter. So intrigued was I that I went further. I instructed my agents to make certain enquiries.’
Pausing, the Minister continued to hold Roger’s gaze steadily while taking a pinch of snuff. Roger, meanwhile, felt his heart beginning to pound so that he had difficulty in keeping his breathing even. He knew now that the cat and mouse game was over and the cat was coming in for the kill.
Flicking away the grains of snuff from the satin lapels of his coat the elegant human cat went on, ‘Having been given the relevant dates my agents reported to me that during the first half of 1801 you did not at any time occupy your château at St. Maxime and that the register of post services chargeable to the Army shows that on June 6th a Colonel Breuc was furnished with a mount in Frankfurt, lay in Verdun for a few hours the following night and arrived in Paris on the 8th, the evening of my reception.’ Suddenly Talleyrand leaned forward and pointed an accusing finger:
‘Touché, Mistair Brook; et touché encore.’
With a sigh Roger put up both his hands palms outward, ‘I admit it. I might have known that although I could fool Duroc I could not fool you. That is if it occurred to you to go into the matter; but I saw no reason why you should.’
Talleyrand smiled but his smile had no humour in it, ‘The gamble you took was a good one. It would have come off had I not learned of Lord Kildonan’s accident and its having made it impossible for him to leave Rome during the last years of his life. ’Tis upon just such slender chances that the fate of empires hang. In this case it is your own. Now, Mr. Brook, be good enough to inform me of your reason for going to St. Petersburg.’
‘I spent some time there in ’87 and, having become bored by my long convalescence after Marengo, I thought it would be interesting to pay another visit to the city.’
‘Indeed!’ The Minister’s mobile mouth curved into a sneer. ‘And, no doubt, you found a swift cure for your boredom in plotting the murder of the Czar?’
‘You wrong me, Excellence,’ Roger protested with a frown. ‘I would never make myself a party to assassination.’
‘In that I believe you. I should have said in plotting his removal from power. I have much information on that affair and it seems that the original intention was only to place the Czar under restraint. I also know that an Englishman was among those who forced their way into Paul’s room. From the description I have had of him I’ve now not a doubt that he was yourself. Can you deny it?’
Roger shrugged, ‘Since Your Excellency is convinced of that I have no means by which I can alter your opinion.’
‘I would have wagered a fortune that you could not.’ Talleyrand’s deep voice had taken on a harsh note. ‘And so we have the true picture. Long since I suspected you of being an English secret agent. In ’98 I charged you with it, but you assured me that you were no longer working for Mr. Pitt and intended to carve out for yourself a career in France. Still only half-convinced of your sincerity I nullified your prospects of sending information back from Paris to London by insisting that your duty lay in accompanying Bonaparte on his expedition to Egypt. On his return you played a valuable part in the coup d’état of Brumaire and, your prospects of advancement being so good, it seemed to me that you had everything to gain by remaining loyal to France. With a skill that one can but admire you have since led me to believe that my suspicions of you were entirely groundless. Napoleon, myself and many others have made you privy to our most secret intentions and you deceived us all. Now, it is revealed that for all these years we have been nurturing a viper in our bosoms.
‘For your activities while in Russia there can be only one explanation. Mad as the Czar Paul may have been, we had made him the friend of France, so it was in our interest that he should retain his throne; whereas the interests of England lay in his removal from it. Taking advantage of the indefinite leave granted you to recover from your wound, I haven’t a doubt that you went to London and that there your real master discussed with you the situation in Russia. He would have told you that the Czar had many enemies but that they were a cowardly, woolly-minded, irresolute lot. You are the very antithesis of that, and he sent you to persuade, urge, bully, bribe them into taking action. History will not record the part you played but it will the result of your mission. You temporarily altered the balance of power in favour of your country. That was a great achievement, Mr. Brook. But it is your last. You have deceived us far too long and will deceive us no more. You must know, too, the penalty for a spy who has been found out. It is death.’
Never before had Roger seen Talleyrand in such a mood, nor thought him even capable of displaying such harshness. Gone was the urbane, charming friend and another personality had emerged; a ruthless intriguer who had had his cherished plans brought to naught and for that meant to exact vengeance.
Roger had gone slightly pale. The knuckles of his hands showed white as, with rising tension, he clasped them on his knee. He had always thought that if he ever slipped up badly he could count on Talleyrand to get him out; but such a hope was now obviously vain. The very fact that they had been such close friends was, he realised, the clue to the Minister’s rancour; for he prided himself on his astuteness, and to learn that he had been fooled by a man with whom he had been intimate for years must have roused in him intense resentment. In a low voice Roger said:
‘Your Excellency has made a case and I am in no position to refute your charges. I have performed many services for France but my first loyalty has always been to England, and will be so until I die.’
‘That is a brave declaration. Many men in your present position would have sought to save themselves by offering to use their contacts in England to work in future for France.’
‘Monsieur le Ministre, if you mean that as a suggestion I can take it only as an insult.’
Talleyrand raised an eyebrow, ‘Spies form a class apart. As their profession largely consists of betraying confidences they are regarded as persons without honour, so cannot be insulted. But let that pass. We have worked together so often and for so long that I would have liked to find a means by which you could escape the fate you have brought upon yourself. Can you suggest one?’
‘No, I fear not,’ Roger shook his head. ‘What alternative is there? Only an appeal to you that you should allow me to go free and return to England. But, being so well informed as I am of French affairs, that would be too much to expect. Our countries are at war. You know me now to be a danger to yours; so you could not with a clear conscience allow me to continue to give assistance to France’s enemies. My only regret is that it should be you who has found me out, and so be inflicted with what must be the unpleasant duty of sending me to face a firing squad.’
Regarding him curiously, Talleyrand said, ‘I admire your scruples in refraining from appealing to my personal feelings for you; although in your circumstances I would not have them. However, there remain the services you have rendered France, and they are considerable. I can at least ensure that they are given full prominence at your trial with a strong recommendation to mercy.’
Roger gave a pale smile, ‘I thank Your Excellency for your good intentions; but I’d as lief you allowed matters to take their course. Mercy in this case could mean retaining my life only at the price of spending many years imprisoned in a fortress. I have had a wonderful life and a long run for my money. But I’ve always anticipated that, sooner or later, I would be called on to pay for that an
d I’d much prefer to settle the bill in one lump sum.’
‘Are you not then afraid to die?’
‘I am of being executed. Contrary to popular belief I am, physically, the veriest coward. But I’ve no fear of death itself, nor any great regret at being deprived of a continuance of my present existence. Pauline Borghese is the most lovely creature; but she has gone to Rome and, to be honest, drawn though I was to her like an iron filing to a magnet, at rock bottom I had no deep feeling for her—nor she for me, else she would not have married Borghese while I was in Bruges. So that is finished. From my teens onwards until some fifteen months ago I had an abiding passion for an English lady who returned my love. But that, too, alas, is over, and for good. So I have nothing much now to live for.’
‘Yet you would surely rather live than die?’
‘Naturally. Even with no special inducement to survive, life still holds many pleasures and interests. Not least to learn how the war between our countries will end.’
Opening a drawer in his desk, Talleyrand took from it a dog-eared piece of thin pasteboard on which the writing was almost illegible. Pushing it across to Roger he asked, ‘Do you recognise this?’
Picking it up, Roger looked at it for a moment then exclaimed, ‘Why, yes! It is the passport that I fooled Danton into giving me for you, so that you could escape from France to England at the height of the Terror.’
Talleyrand nodded, ‘It saved me from the guillotine. And, although people rate me guilty of many things, no one has ever accused me of not having a good memory.’
From the drawer he then produced a clean, new oblong of pasteboard and added, ‘Here is another. It will take you via the Netherlands into Germany, and from a port there you should have no difficulty in finding a ship that will carry you to England.’
Roger had needed all his fortitude both to remain calm and resist the temptation to plead for his life. What he had said of Pauline and Georgina was true but, in spite of that, he was far from ready to die. He had made a pretence of resignation only because he felt that by doing so he would stand a better chance of taking Talleyrand by surprise, snatching up a heavy candle-stick from the desk, rendering him unconscious by a blow over the head and walking calmly out of the Palace before he could be arrested.
The Wanton Princess Page 32
