‘Pray don’t. You know where we are going?’
‘Of course.’ He smiled, bowed, closed the door behind her, and jumped up behind.
Too far out of town for easy winter access, the Lazienki Palace and the White House where Stanislas Augustus’s mistress had lived were empty at this time of the year, and the snow-covered grounds lay eerily silent in cold afternoon light.
‘I shall come in with you.’ Genet’s messenger held out his hand to help her down from the carriage.
‘Thank you. I don’t know your name.’
‘François, mademoiselle, most absolutely at your service.’ He rapped loudly on the door of the square white house. No answer. He pushed it and it swung open, revealing a Dutch tiled hall. ‘Is anyone there?’
The air of the house struck cold as Jenny followed him in. ‘Lech?’ she called. ‘Olga?’ A wild-goose chase?
‘There’s somebody here.’ He pulled the pistol out of his belt, led the way through echoing empty rooms.
Now she could hear what he had: muffled, distant shouting. A locked door; no key and the voices from inside. Lech’s, she thought, and Olga’s. Casimir?
‘Stand back from the door,’ Francois shouted. ‘I’m going to shoot out the lock.’
‘We’re clear.’ Lech’s voice? The shot reverberated through the empty rooms; some plaster fell from the moulded ceiling; the door swung open to reveal Lech with Casimir apparently asleep in his arms; Olga plunging into hysteria. No one else.
‘They drugged him.’ Lech’s whole thought was for the little Prince. ‘Promised it would do him no harm. I’m glad you came, pani, it’s been cold here.’
‘How long?’
‘Since yesterday. Oh, be quiet, you!’ To Olga. ‘What are we going to do with her?’ he asked Jenny.
‘Did they say anything?’
‘No, but they don’t trust her, and no more do I.’
‘We can’t leave her here,’ Jenny said. ‘It will be dark soon.’
‘Serve her right,’ said Lech.
‘We’ll drop her at the edge of town.’ François took command. ‘If you agree, mademoiselle.’ He struck Olga a sharp blow on the side of the face. ‘Quiet, you. We won’t hurt you. Where do you want to be let go?’
‘Near the barracks,’ Olga said, and then was silent.
Chapter 17
Prince Casimir pined for his captors. He had changed from baby to little boy in their hands, and refused to answer to the old pet names Jenny had called him. ‘I’m Prince Casimir –’ He repelled her embrace and went on in rapid Polish.
‘What does he say?’ Jenny asked Marylka.
‘Bless him! He says he’s the hope of Poland.’
The Princess, who had been used to caress her son very much as she did her lapdogs, was repelled by this change in him. ‘The hope of Poland, indeed! He’ll need better manners if he’s to be that. Idiotic to have taught him to say it. I count on you to cure him of it, Jenny. Imagine if he were to come out with it at school.’ She planned to send him to Warsaw’s military academy just as soon as he was old enough. In the meantime, he played soldiers with the children of the palace serfs. But it was still Jenny to whom he came when the play was too rough and he got hurt, and Jenny who told him his fairy story in bed every night. But now the dragons had to be fiercer, the Princes bolder, and the battles bloody.
The standard Princess Isobel had embroidered was ceremonially blessed, along with many other proofs of the devotion of Polish ladies, early in May, when the new regiments of eager young men marched away to join Napoleon for the spring campaign. And Marie Walewska came back from her stay with Napoleon at his headquarters as quietly as she had gone, though once again the news was around town in twenty-four hours.
Jenny had known it still sooner, having received a visit from Paul Genet, who had joined Marie Walewska’s brother Benedict in escorting her back.
‘You’ll call on her, I hope,’ he said. ‘News of her return will be out soon enough. What’s hard to say is how society will take it.’
‘I suppose it depends on her husband.’ Jenny felt a moment’s revulsion at the abject plight of a married woman.
‘No problem there. Welcomed her with open arms. His dearest Marie.’ Genet’s tone was dry. ‘If there should be a child, I think he’ll be glad to acknowledge it. Forgive me!’ She had blushed scarlet. ‘I am treating you as an old friend. You do not talk of these things in England?’
‘Do you with your women in France?’
‘Only with those we value most. Tell me, how do you go on with the Princess these days?’
‘Not well. But better than at first. I’ve so wanted to thank you, Monsieur Genet, for the services of your man, Francois. I don’t know what I would have done without him.’ She had taken it for granted that Francois would have reported fully to Paul Genet and been amazed at how little she minded this.
‘The little Prince is none the worse, I hear.’
‘He enjoyed every moment of it! He’s changed, of course. He’s a little boy now. He needs a tutor, some discipline. He’s running wild with the servants’ children; bullying them, I’m afraid. It’s not good for him.’
‘No.’ Thoughtfully. He rose. ‘I must leave again for head-quarters tonight. Miss Peverel, may I leave Francois with you? If you should ever need help, for whatever reason, he would find it for you.’
‘Good of you, but it’s not possible. The Princess …’
‘Stupid of me. I should have explained. I propose to leave him here in Warsaw, at Monsieur Talleyrand’s, to keep me posted of events. Only you will know that it is you he serves.’
‘In that case, thank you.’ Disconcerting to find herself close to tears.
He took her hand, kissed it. ‘Thank you, Miss Peverel, for trusting me. And – do call on Madame Walewska?’
The thaw was general now, and Warsaw was beginning to stink. Since elegant town houses and ornate palaces stood marooned among groups of slum hovels, and only the lucky people close to the Vistula had any pretence of drainage, warm weather brought an instant threat of disease in the overcrowded city. More and more families were moving out to their country houses. The Walewskis had gone to Walewice, the Potockis to Willanow, and Princess Isobel was one of the few aristocrats still in town.
‘It’s intolerable.’ She had come in from her carriage sniffing at a clove orange. ‘You still have some means of getting in touch with the Brotherhood? Tell them it will be on their heads if Casimir dies of the typhus.’
‘I’ve told them already,’ said Marylka, when Jenny spoke to her. ‘They say there will be instructions soon. I don’t know why it has taken so long.’
A few days later an elegant town carriage drew up outside the Ovinski house.
‘The Prince of Benevento wishes to pay his respects to Your Highness.’ Grucz sounded frightened.
‘Talleyrand? Napoleon’s éminence grise? Show him in, then.’ Princess Isobel moved to the glass to adjust a curl. ‘An unlooked-for honour. You’ve not met him, Jenny?’ The use of her Christian name, rare since Casimir’s kidnapping, was encouraging.
‘No.’ She had not gone into society since the French took Warsaw.
An ugly man, with a limp. That was Jenny’s first thought. Then, as he greeted them both and began to talk to the Princess, she revised it. A brilliant man, with the manners of an angel. Did angels have manners? He was apologising to the Princess. A letter from her husband the Prince had been intercepted by mistake, delayed. She must forgive him. He handed it to her, turned to Jenny.
‘You must be starved for word from England, Miss Peverel. The Warsaw Gazette is hardly noted for its international news. You have a new government, did you know?’
‘No! I hadn’t heard.’
‘The Tories are back in office, under Lord Portland. They are sending Lord Leveson Gower back as Ambassador to Russia. You met him, I believe, at Rendomierz?’
‘No, sir.’ How did one address Napoleonic Princes? ‘He was supposed to come, with
the Tsar, but had to wait for a messenger from England. Two friends of his came, a Mr. Rendel and an American, Jan Warrington.’
‘Old friends of the Princess’s, I believe.’
‘Yes.’ She felt herself colouring. ‘They arrived at Rendomierz the same year that I did.’
‘Gratify an old man’s curiosity, my dear, and tell me about Mr. Rendel. I knew his parents, many years ago, in France before the Revolution. It makes me feel my age to say so!’
‘He never spoke of them.’
‘His mother has been dead many years. She was a most beautiful lady … Does her son take after her?’
‘He’s not exactly handsome.’ Hard to be casual. ‘Fair hair, grey eyes. You know the type of Englishman?’
Talleyrand nodded. ‘His mother was a ravishing blonde.’
‘And he just misses it.’ She indulged herself in the rare chance to talk about Glynde. ‘It’s almost as if he didn’t want to be handsome, didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Plays the English fashionable, and all the time there’s the hint of steel underneath. How strange …’ Something was tugging at her mind. ‘Who is it he’s like?’
‘The Tsar seems to have taken quite a fancy to him.’ Talleyrand had lost interest in Glynde’s appearance. ‘He and Warrington are with him again in what’s left of Eastern Prussia. You have the advantage of me there, too, young lady. You have met the Tsar and I have not. A great gentleman, they say.’
‘Yes.’ But the Princess had finished her husband’s long letter.
‘So many instructions,’ she said. ‘You’ve read it of course, Prince.’
‘My reluctant duty. You will be glad, I am sure, to escape from the bad air of Warsaw, for the child’s sake as well as your own. I leave myself, tomorrow, for army headquarters, and am not sorry.’
‘I shall get permission to go?’
‘I can promise you that. And the sooner the better. The roads are drying fast; the campaign will reopen soon. A wife’s place is at her husband’s side, particularly when he is not well. It shall never be said that the civilised French are slower to see this than the Russians. Send to my house tomorrow and you shall have the necessary papers.’ He shared his urbane smile between them. ‘And my best wishes for a prosperous journey, ladies.’
‘He’s very sure I’ll go,’ said the Princess when he had left.
‘To Rendomierz?’ Jenny had been longing to ask it.
‘Idiot! No. To join my husband. He’s in attendance on the Tsar with the rest of the Russian court. I’m to apply for leave to go to Vinsk; leave the boy there; then to headquarters, which are at Bartenstein now; maybe much further west by then.’
‘And Talleyrand read all this? And lets you go? I don’t understand.’
‘How should you? How should a little bourgeoise like you expect to understand the chivalry of the great? Talleyrand’s a gentleman, one of the old aristocracy. He knows how to behave.’
‘They say he’s brilliantly clever.’
‘So is my husband, who wrote his letter knowing it would be read. He is very far from well, he says. Too old a man to be roughing it in the wilds.’
‘But, Princess, what of the Brotherhood? Remember what happened last time we left Warsaw.’
For a moment, she thought the Princess would strike her. Then, ‘Send them a message. Tell them I am ordered to leave.’
‘Ordered?’
‘It comes to that. Use your wits, Jenny! Talleyrand didn’t pay that visit in order to make agreeable conversation with you about Glynde Rendel. He came to give me my orders. I expect you will find that he has dealt with the Brotherhood too.’
And in this she proved entirely right. When Jenny returned to her own room she found Marylka awaiting her with their message, approving the journey. Reporting this to the Princess, she said, ‘I don’t understand it. And, Princess, what of Miriam and her little boys? Will it be safe to leave Casimir at Vinsk?’ This plan went terribly against the grain with her.
‘The boys are dead,’ said the Princess flatly. ‘Smallpox. Poor little things. My husband merely mentioned it in passing. I imagine Miriam has gone home to her family. And good riddance. She had it too,’ she explained. ‘Caught it doing good works in the village, gave it to the children. Her looks are quite gone.’ She paused to admire her own in the glass.
‘Oh, the poor creature! Both of them?’
‘He’ll never forgive her for catching it, giving it to them. If she’s not gone, she might as well. She’d make a reliable housekeeper, mind you. At least she’s devoted to the Prince.’
‘She feels herself married to him,’ said Jenny, forgetting herself.
‘God give me patience! Will you never even try to understand! Married to him! A little bastard of a Jewess married to the Prince Ovinski! I think perhaps I will leave you behind at Vinsk.’
Setting out a few days later, the Princess travelled slowly north in her usual luxurious state. But on the sixth morning, as she made her leisurely way to her own carriage, the little party were suddenly surrounded by a group of hooded figures who had emerged, silently, from the forest.
No hope of resistance, but Jenny thought no one even intended it. The hooded leader approached the Princess, bowed. ‘Highness, you have been travelling too slowly. We are come, with your permission, to escort you for the rest of your journey.’
‘You! Who are you?’
‘We do not name ourselves, Highness, but we are Poland’s friends, yours, and your son’s.’ And as if to prove this, Casimir now hurled himself forward with cries of glad recognition to clasp the stranger’s knee and demand a ride on his horse. ‘You can see we are not very terrible,’ he looked down a little ruefully at the child, then swung him up in front of him. ‘Quiet, Prince, I am speaking to your mother.’ And to Jenny’s amazement, Casimir relapsed into obedient silence. She watched with awed amusement as he let himself be put down without a word of protest. And felt herself watched in her turn as he came straight to her, ignoring his mother. ‘It’s my friends, Jenny! Are we going with them?’
It was amazing how much faster they went with the Brotherhood in charge. When the Princess said something about stopping for lunch, her guide simply looked at her. Then, ‘You may eat in the carriage,’ he told her.
It was a most uncomfortable journey, with the heavy carriage plunging and swaying through deep sand, or lurching over the logs of a corduroy road across the swampland near rivers. When it stuck fast, as it did several times, they all had to get out and everyone but the Princess did their best to help push.
Towards evening, Jenny caught a moment alone with their masked guide. ‘Where are you taking us? It’s not to Vinsk, or the sun has changed its habits a great deal. And we’ve crossed a lot of small rivers, but surely the Niemen is a big one.’
‘I never said I was taking you to Vinsk.’
‘Nor you did. So – where?’ She should be terrified, but did not seem to be.
‘To the Russian camp, of course. To the Prince. Why waste time going all the way east to Vinsk?’ For the first time, she thought he smiled behind the mask. ‘I won’t go so far as to say that the little Prince would be better with his mother than left behind among servants, but I do think he will be better with you. Who better than a freeborn Englishwoman to train up the hope of Poland?’
‘And how ridiculous of you to teach him to call himself that.’
‘I’m sure you have cured him. Now, tell me, are you going to oblige me by not mentioning to the Princess what you have noticed?’
‘Oh, I think so. It would only make trouble.’
‘I’m glad you see that. Never forget that where the future of Poland is concerned, we are absolutely ruthless.’
‘Believe me, I won’t.’ Could it have been he who had so ruthlessly mishandled her, back in the forest at Rendomierz? She did not want to think so, but her eye went down to the ankle that was still a little stiff when it rained.
The journey began to seem endless, and Jenny waited for the inevita
ble moment when the Princess would realise something was wrong, but one road in this desolate country looked very like another. Their anonymous guide approached her again one evening when she was taking Casimir for a run by the small stream near which they were encamped. ‘I’ve news,’ he told her. ‘The Russian court has moved from Memel to Tilsit to be nearer the seat of operations. You will be able to reach Tilsit tomorrow. I have sent a messenger to Prince Ovinski, asking him to send an escort for his wife. You have only to wait here for them. Make my excuses to the Princess, when she finds us gone in the morning.’
‘You do not propose to stay and face her?’
‘Why should I?’
‘No reason. But please let me thank you, for all of us.’
‘For the little Prince, what would we not do? You’ll look after him, Miss Peverel. We count on you.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And, remember, our power crosses all frontiers. We will be watching you in Russia, no more, no less.’
‘I wish I understood …’
‘Don’t try, Miss Peverel. If you value your life, don’t try.’
When she woke in the morning to find her carriage unguarded, her escort vanished, the Princess was so angry she could hardly speak. And Jenny’s explanation did nothing to calm her. ‘You knew last night, and did not tell me!’
‘I was ordered not to. You may not fear the Brotherhood, Highness, but I do. And with cause.’ She had never told the Princess about that savage attack on her, back at Rendomierz, and thought this was the moment to do so.
‘They did that to you?’ The Princess’s hand went up to her own mouth, as if she imagined it disfigured as Jenny’s was. ‘And you said nothing!’
‘Highness, I was afraid. And – remember – in their strange, violent way, they are working for what you want: the freedom of Poland. It is not you or me they care about; it is the little Prince, their hope for the future. I wish I understood why they want him back with his father.’
She thought she began to when they approached the little town of Tilsit later that day and Prince Ovinski rode out to meet them. He had aged almost beyond recognition since she had last seen him only a year before. He had always been an immensely elegant, upright rider. She hardly recognised him now, slumped in his saddle, thin, scaly hands clutching at the reins.
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