The Launching of Roger Brook

by Dennis Wheatley

  When the present-giving was over, at a sign from the King, the band struck up a minuet. Louis of France rose from his throne and led Athénaïs de Rochambeau out on to the floor; Marie Antoinette laid her tapering fingers on the arm of the Marquis, and the two couples took up their positions to open the ball.

  For two hours the stately dancing continued; myriads of candles making the jewels of the courtiers scintillate and sparkle as they threaded their way in and out of the complicated evolutions, their silks, satins and velvets blending and merging in a kaleidoscope of riotous colour.

  Most of the time Roger stood a little behind the row of tabourets to the right of the thrones, glorying in the beauty of his lovely Athénaïs, but always keeping the Marquis in view in case some service was required of him. From time to time various friends came up and chatted to him for a while; M. de la Tour d’Auvergne—as anxious as Roger was to know his fate—Count Louis de Narbonne and the Abbé de Périgord among them.

  The lame Abbé, clad in a suit of dove-grey silk, his piquant face alight with animation, was, as usual, enjoying himself immensely. The fact that he was lame made other men always get up on his approach and offer him their seats, while he was never expected to extend a similar courtesy to them. In consequence, he gravitated gracefully from one to another of all the loveliest women present, and lingered at their sides whispering amusing immoralities to each of them behind their fans for as long as he listed then, with apparent regret, tore himself away to murmur the latest scandal into the willing ear of another.

  Roger proved poor company that night for the people who talked to him. He knew the programme; dancing till midnight, then the announcing of the engagement, then an adjournment for supper, then dancing again until two o’clock, at which hour their Majesties would leave; but the band would play on till four, and by five it was hoped that any lingering drunks would be carried off to their coaches by their servants.

  The two hours’ dancing before supper seemed an eternity to him and afterwards he only remembered one episode during it. He had moved out a little down one side of the room and was standing behind two men who were some way apart from the crowd.

  Suddenly he heard one of them say in English: ‘I’d give a thousand guineas to know what’s inside that damn’ fellow’s head. If ever there was a mischief-maker, he is one.’

  The other replied quietly: ‘Don’t worry, Your Grace. We’ll know in due course. We have a very reliable agent here. It seems that he is averse to contacting the Embassy, but, no doubt, should any crisis arise he will return home and report to Maxwell personally.’

  Roger saw that they were both looking intently at the Marquis, and he knew that the first speaker was the British Ambassador, the Duke of Dorset. It flashed into his mind that the other was probably Mr. Daniel Hailes, and that he himself was the ‘very reliable agent’ referred to.

  The fact that his King’s representatives knew of and counted on him came as a shock, and even more so the intimation that, in the event of a crisis, he was expected to go home and report in person.

  At last the band stopped playing, the Sovereigns returned to their thrones and the glittering throng formed again into a great half-circle before them. Under the direction of Monsieur Roland scores of footmen had appeared carrying silver salvers loaded with glasses of champagne. The major-domo himself brought two lovely Venetian goblets on a gold salver to M. de Rochambeau. Going down on one knee the Marquis offered them to their Majesties and each took one.

  The King then stood up and addressed the assembled company. ‘Cousins, my lords and ladies; it is our Royal pleasure this night to er—thank Monsieur de Rochambeau for the very pleasant entertainment he has afforded us. It is also our, er—pleasure to give our Royal consent to a contract of marriage uniting two great and ancient families, both er—distinguished for their services to the Crown. We refer, of course, to the forthcoming nuptials of Mademoiselle de Rochambeau. It will be our Royal pleasure to sign as witness to the marriage contract on a suitable date at—er—our palace of Versailles. In wishing happiness to this couple it gives us special pleasure to know that M. le Marquis has selected for his son-in-law another great landowner in our Province of Brittany.’

  For Athénaïs’s sake Roger’s heart leapt for joy. The King’s last words could only mean that the Marquis had decided to give her to M. de la Tour d’Auvergne.

  After a little pause the King coughed, and went on:

  ‘Mademoiselle de Rochambeau is indeed fortunate, as her husband-to-be is one of the richest men in our realm. But M. le Comte de Caylus is also to be congratulated.…’

  20

  The Betrothal

  Aghast, choking with shock and indignation, Roger took in the terrible sentence that had been passed on Athénaïs. As though in a nightmare he heard the heavy-faced, lugubrious King drone on, proposing the health and happiness of M. de Caylus and his future Countess; and saw the burly, sallow-complexioned quadroon step forward from a group of gentlemen on the far side of the thrones.

  De Caylus bowed very deeply, first to the Sovereigns, then to Athénaïs. Roger could not see her face but he knew what she must be feeling and he feared that she might faint under the shock. But with the self-discipline that was one of the virtues of her caste she went through the prescribed formalities without even a tremor. Having sunk almost to the ground in a graceful curtsey she slowly rose to her full height and extended her right hand. The King took it and placed it in M. de Caylus’s left. Then raising his goblet the Monarch toasted the affianced pair. A moment later the great marquee was ringing with the cheers of the splendid company.

  The King gave his arm to the Queen. With her on his left and M. de Rochambeau one pace behind him to his right they led the way up the grand staircase to supper. Athénaïs and M. de Caylus walked immediately behind them, then came the chastely beautiful Princess de Lamballe, who was in attendance on the Queen, escorted by Comte Lucien de Rochambeau and, after them, the Princes, Ambassadors and nobles followed in strict order of precedence.

  It took twenty minutes for the marquee to empty, and for most of that time Roger’s brain refused to work. The thought of Athénaïs married to de Caylus made him almost physically sick, yet he knew that the vast majority of those who had witnessed the betrothal took a completely different view of the matter. They would not give a thought to the human, personal side of the affair but regard the alliance as eminently suitable.

  Their attitude to such matters was brought home to him afresh by seeing the Abbé die Périgord with the young and lovely Countess de Flahaut, whom everybody openly regarded as his wife in all but name, going upstairs to supper. By right of birth the Abbé should have been the Count de Talleyrand-Périgord but, simply because he had met with an accident when a child, his father had deprived him of his right to inherit both title and estates, and forced him against his will to go into the Church. Yet the Abbé bore no resentment against his father; he recognised that in all things family must come first.

  How Roger got through the remaining hours of the ball he never afterwards remembered. At one time he looked everywhere for M. de la Tour d’Auvergne, but could not find him, and so assumed that, overcome with distress, he had gone home. In due course their Majesties, surrounded by their personal attendants, guards and trumpeters, were ushered to the long train of coaches that would bear the Royal party back to the Palais des Tuilleries. Soon afterwards Athénaïs, a fixed, strained smile on her face, which was chalk-white under her rouge, begged to be excused; but the dancing and hollow-sounding laughter seemed to go on interminably. At last the crowd began to thin but, owing to the congestion in the narrow street outside, it could not get away very rapidly. Roger saw that it would be another hour at least before all the guests had gone and, deciding that he could stand it no longer, went up to his room.

  When he reached it the summer dawn was already breaking, so he saw at once the small, huddled figure sprawled face downwards on his bed. It took him only a second to guess that when
Athénaïs’s maids had left her for the night she must have crept up to the playroom and crossed the roof to climb in at his window. Throwing himself on his knees beside the bed, he took her in his arms.

  She was so distraught with grief that, for a time, she could only sob her heart out on his chest and murmur:

  ‘Oh, Rojé, Rojé, what am I to do? I cannot bear it. I cannot bear it.’

  With the comfort of his arms about her, gradually her paroxysms of weeping eased, and she said bitterly: ‘Why, with half the gentlemen in France to choose from, must my father give me to that loathsome creature. I would have done my best to make de la Tour d’Auvergne happy; I could have borne with de Porcin, or played a mother’s part to little de la Roche-Aymon. But the very thought of this beast repels me. Oh, Rojé, what shall I do?’

  ‘Can you not appeal to the Queen,’ he suggested. ‘She is said to be kind-hearted, and you say she likes you. Surely she would speak to your father?’

  Athénaïs shook her head. ‘Nay, ’twould be useless, dear love. The Queen is kind, but a martinet where duty is concerned. All the world knows how she must have suffered herself when she first came to Court as a beautiful young bride. The King has never been renowned for his address, and so oafish was he as a young Prince that ’twas seven years before he could bring himself to sleep with her. Everyone knew of her humiliation, yet she bore it with quiet pride, and expects others to face things disagreeable to them in a like manner. She would never interfere in a family matter such as this.’

  Roger hesitated only a moment, before he said: ‘Then there is only one thing for it. We must elope together.’

  She started up and clutched his wrist. ‘Elope! How can we, Rojél Where could we go?’

  To England, angel.’

  ‘But did you not tell me that your father had forbidden you his house?’

  ‘’Tis true,’ he admitted. ‘But at least I am no servant there. My mother would help us, and in time my father will come round.’

  ‘Are you sure of that? I love you, Rojé; oh, I love you dearly; yet I know only too well that I should make but a poor wife for a pauper.’

  ‘All will be well. I’m certain of it,’ he said as firmly as he could manage.

  During the past nine months he had thought a hundred times of asking her to run away with him, but he had always put the thought from him because he had so terribly little to offer her. It was for that reason he had hesitated a moment back, before proposing such a desperate expedient. He knew that his mother would help them, as far as she could, but she had not a penny of her own; and, if his father remained adamant, even the best employment he could hope to get would produce an income that, to Athénaïs, would seem little better than penury. Yet, save her he must from De Caylus, and this seemed the only possible way that offered; so he went on with more confidence.

  ‘I’ve a hundred and fifty louis saved, which would keep us in reasonable comfort for a while. Then your jewels, with those you received tonight, must be worth a small fortune. God forbid that I should live on you like some shiftless adventurer; but they would provide a sheet anchor, were there some delay in my obtaining a suitable appointment. That should not be hard, though, after the experience I’ve had with your father. We would not be rich, but I’ve confidence in myself now, and once given a decent opening I vow I could earn enough to keep us like gentlefolk. And we’d have each other.’

  She flung her arms round his neck. ‘Oh, Rojé, dear miller’s youngest son; I’ve not a doubt but that in time you’ll make your fortune, and I’d be content to wait for that. I hate the Court, with all its boring ceremonies and stupid etiquette. I’ll leave it gladly if you can make enough so that we’ll not starve.’

  ‘Very well!’ he cried, pressing her to him. ‘Oh, my beloved! I swear you’ll not regret it. My father will come round. He could not do otherwise once he sees you. But that apart, we’ll make a place for ourselves and have such joy in doing it. With you to work for nothing can stop me.’

  ‘I know it,’ she laughed, turning her tear-stained face up to him. ‘As for my jewels, they are yours to do as you wish with. Then what you earned could be devoted wholly to food, clothes and servants, and—and children, if they came to us.’

  ‘I hope they do. I’d adore to have a daughter just like you.’

  ‘Oh, but I must have a son first. A son, Rojé, with your blue eyes and those lovely, long dark lashes.’

  ‘We’ll have both, dear heart; and more if you wish. Would you like lots of children?’

  ‘Yes. And I would keep them with us in our home. I’d not let them be put out to nurse as is the custom here in France.’

  ‘I wouldn’t let you, anyway,’ he smiled. ‘There is little point in having children unless one has the fun of playing with them.’

  ‘And telling them stories,’ she added. ‘I know so many lovely fairy stories that I shall be able to tell ours.’

  ‘Our own story is better than any fairy tale, and you will be able to tell them that, my sweet Princess.’

  ‘Dear miller’s youngest son! I fear I’ll find it very strange in England at first, though. Shall we live in London?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, since ’tis there that I shall find my best opportunities. And with you for my wife I’ll be the proudest man in the whole city.’

  ‘Your wife!’ she whispered.

  Suddenly she gripped his arms with all her strength and her fingers dug into his muscles.

  ‘Your wife!’ she breathed again. ‘But, Rojé, I had forgot. I never think of you as one, but—but you are a heretic. I could never marry a heretic.’

  He too had temporarily forgotten that last sinister barrier, of man-made bigotry, intolerance and superstition, which, towering high above all others, still separated them.

  ‘You would be an Englishwoman if you married me,’ he muttered, still dazed from the sudden shock to all the castles in the air they had been building. ‘And nearly everyone in England is a Protestant.’

  ‘Don’t ask me to recant!’ she cried. ‘Don’t ask me, I beg. I couldn’t do it. ’Twould be to imperil my immortal soul.’

  All Roger’s love for her, all the mental pictures of the dream world they had been creating and his acute reluctance to leave her in her present desperate situation, fought within him against the inherited teachings of the Reformation; yet they were not strong enough to prevail entirely.

  ‘I’d give my life for you,’ he said slowly. ‘I would lay it down tomorrow; but I hesitate to risk my hopes of salvation.’

  ‘Then how can we marry? Oh, Rojé, will you not think again, and be received into the Catholic Church?’

  ‘I cannot promise that. I must have time to consider it. But wait! Does not the Pope grant dispensations in special cases? If we could secure one we might yet be married in your Church but each continue in our own religions.’

  She looked up suddenly, with new hope shining in her eyes. ‘’Tis true; and there lies the way out of our difficulty. Such dispensations are costly, I believe; but, if need be, the price of my jewels must go for that. And, for your part, ’twould be necessary only for you to sign a promise that any children of the marriage he brought up in the Roman faith.’

  ‘What say you!’ he exclaimed. ‘Commit unborn children to follow a faith of which they have no knowledge! Nay, that I would never do. My soul is my own to jeopardise for love’s sake if I wish. Having done so I might still receive God’s mercy, but how could I ever hope for that if I signed away the rights of others, who have as yet no minds with which to take decisions of their own.’

  ‘But, Rojé,’ she pleaded. ‘’Tis natural that children should be brought up to some religion.’

  ‘Indeed it is; and as in most cases the parents are of the same faith there arises no question as to what it should be. But where the parents differ ’tis but fair that the children should be left a free choice to decide for themselves, when they are old enough.’

  Athénaïs sighed. ‘Rojé, dear heart, I am no theol
ogian to argue such questions. I know only the simple facts. The Holy Father will not grant a dispensation for such a marriage as we plan unless you are willing to swear a solemn oath that all children of the marriage should be baptised into the Catholic faith.’

  He laid his hands on hers and gently drew her arms away from about his neck. ‘My love,’ he said softly, ‘Fate is too strong for us. Even for you I’ll buy no dispensation at such a price. Come to England with me if you will and we’ll tell everyone that we have been married in France. I pledge you on my oath, here and now, never to desert you and to ever regard you in all things as my wife. But unless you’ll marry me by Church of England rites, more I have not the power to offer.’

  ‘I cannot,’ she whispered. ‘’Twould make me old before my time to have the ever-present knowledge that I was living in sin; and that my children were bastards, born out of wedlock. No lasting happiness to either of us could ever come of it.’

  Then with a moan she turned away from him and, burying her face in his pillow, began to sob out her heart.

  While he soothed and sought to comfort her he strove to think of some way in which he might yet save her from having to marry de Caylus. It came to him then that there was one possible line of action which he might attempt.