The Ravishing of Lady Mary Ware Page 2

  ‘Ah, but that is just the point! I grant you that with our virile natures and lust for life, had we married when young we might, after a few years, have become satiated with each other and sought pastures new, or thwarted our instincts and settled into a dreary, joyless domesticity. But we are older now. Both of us have sown our wild oats, and far more abundantly than most. To my daughter, Susan, you have for many years played the part of a sweet and devoted mother. But your boy, Charles, needs a father to bring him up, and who better than myself? ’Tis time that we put casual lechery behind us and entered on the quieter joys of life.’

  For a long time Georgina was silent, then she said, ‘You are right that Charles needs a father. How wrong I was to imagine that brute, Ulrich, would fill the role. And no-one could make a proper man of Charles more surely than yourself. I agree, too, that I have had my fill of lovers. How lucky I’ve been in that: a score or more of men, all handsome and distinguished. But now I feel the time has come when I could be a faithful wife. I make no promise, Roger dear; but before we part at Pressburg I’ll think seriously on it.’

  ‘Bless you for that, my love,’ he smiled, as he refilled her glass with the golden wine.

  When she had drunk, she asked, ‘Should I decide against letting you make an honest woman of me—what then?’

  He shrugged. ‘I hardly know. I’ve been monstrous fortunate in that, during seventeen years of war, I have had many narrow escapes from death. But, on the law of averages, such luck cannot last indefinitely, and I’m much averse to throwing my life away on yet another of the Emperor’s battlefields. On the other hand, I am much tempted to stay on with him, so that I may witness the final act of the drama he has brought upon the world.’

  ‘Meseems then that, should you survive, by the time you come tottering home the grey hair above your ears that now gives you such a dashing look will have spread to cover your whole head. England will never make peace with Bonaparte, and he is now more powerful than ever before.’

  ‘Most people suppose so. And with some reason, as his word is now law from southern Italy to the Baltic Sea and, except for severely wounded Austria, from the Atlantic coast to the borders of Turkey. Russia alone on the Continent of Europe retains her independence; but she is his ally. So, on the face of things, it does now appear that his position is impregnable. Yet it is well said that “all is not gold that glitters.”

  ‘No man is more greatly hated. There is not one of that horde of subject Kings and Princes who fawn upon him wherever he holds his Court who would not, given half a chance, knife him in the back. For the moment they are tied to his chariot wheels and forced to send their troops to fight and die in his campaigns, because all the fortresses in their countries are garrisoned by French troops. Moreover, his demands on them for contributions to his war chest are insatiable. He is sucking their countries dry. A time must come when their people will revolt against this terrible drain upon their manhood and the intolerable burden of taxation.

  ‘That has already happened in Spain, and it will in other countries. Enormous as his army is, he’ll not have enough troops to hold them all down. This vast Empire he has created is a house built on sand. Does he make one false move, and it will collapse about his ears.

  ‘He is, too, not only faced with this danger from without, but also a swiftly-growing canker in the very heart of his Empire. His personal magnetism is immense, so that whenever he appears, his own people are still hypnotised into giving him a great ovation. But no sooner has he turned his back than they now curse him below their breath. There is not a family in France that has not lost a father, a husband or a son in his wars. In every city, town and village, one cannot walk a hundred yards without seeing an ex-soldier who has lost an arm, a leg, or is blind. He has bled the manhood of France white, and is now scraping the bottom of the barrel by calling to the colours boys of sixteen.

  ‘Time was when, as the Paladin of the Revolution and new Freedom, he was defending France from invasion. Then the people gloried in his victories; but, in recent years, they have come to realise that all the terrible sacrifices they are making can bring no benefit to France, and that the wars he wages are solely for his own aggrandisement. Even his own troops are losing faith in him. Europe now swarms with French deserters. They can be numbered by tens of thousands.’

  Roger paused for a moment to finish his wine, then went on, ‘And that is not all. Realising the desperate straits to which he has reduced their nation, many of his most trusted lieutenants have secretly turned against him. All but a few of his Marshals are utterly sickened by his endless wars. They long for peace, so that they may return to France, live on the great estates he has given them and enjoy the vast fortunes they have acquired by looting the wealth of a dozen countries. Given a lead, they would betray him.

  ‘And that lead will come. The two most powerful men in France are Talleyrand and Fouché. As you well know, the former has been my close friend since my first years in France, while the latter, who at one time was my most bitter enemy, agreed with me to let bygones be bygones at the time of Brumaire. Up till that time they, too, were enemies; but it was I who brought them together and, between them, it was they who made possible the success of the coup d’état that raised Bonaparte to First Consul and Dictator. Now, as they have both told me, they are again leagued together, and have vowed to bring Napoleon down.’

  Roger had been so engrossed in what he was saying and Georgina in listening to him, that neither of them had consciously heeded the clatter on the pavé of a number of rapidly approaching horses. A moment later a small cavalcade came into view. It consisted of a large travelling coach escorted by a troop of French Hussars.

  The coach came to a halt in front of the low terrace of the inn, immediately opposite the place where Roger and Georgina were sitting. The door swung open, and a tall, lean officer jumped out. He was clad in the resplendent uniform of a Marshal of the Empire. Above the gleaming black, gold-tasselled Hessian boots and white doeskin breeches, the blue tail coat was heavily embellished with gold braid. His chest was a blaze of diamond-studded decorations. Above his hawk-like face his cocked hat carried waving ostrich feathers a foot high. As he glanced up, Roger instantly recognised him as Pierre Augereau, Duc de Castiglione.

  Recognition was mutual. Staring at Roger in amazement, the Marshal exclaimed:

  ‘Blood of my guts! What in the devil’s name are you doing here, Breuc, taking your ease with your woman? Why are you not making the ground fly beneath a horse’s hooves? Do you not realise that the authorities are after you for murder?’

  2

  The Gamin Marshal

  Roger had come to his feet. Staring down at the tall Marshal, he exclaimed, ‘Murder! I have committed no murder.’

  ‘Should you be brought to trial by the Prussian authorities, you’ll be hard put to it to prove you have not,’ Augereau retorted.

  Picking up the news sheet from the table, Roger said, ‘I take it you refer to this—the deaths of the Baron von Haugwitz and my wife?’

  ‘What else? All Coblenz is agog with it. Last night in the Mess at headquarters, they did naught but make wagers on whether or not you would get away.’

  ‘They were not murdered,’ Roger insisted firmly. ‘They met their deaths by accident.’

  ‘You say so; but what other interpretation can be put upon the facts? The servants declare that you were having an affaire with the Baron’s wife.’ Belatedly, Augereau lifted his plumed hat to Georgina, as he added, ‘and as tempting a piece as a man could wish to see. For that who could blame you? But ’tis another matter when you make off with her and, within a few hours, her husband and your own wife are found to be corpses. It stares one in the face that, fearing the Baron would put the police on your track and have them bring his wife back, before leaving you to decide to make certain of keeping her by taking his life. How otherwise could it have come about that his body and that of your wife were found hidden at the bottom of a wine press? There is evidence e
nough that they, too, were having an affaire; but both, it emerges had their own rooms, so could have bounced each other in the bed of either. Who could conceivably believe that instead they elected to have a romp in a wine press, and both walked downstairs stark naked for the purpose?’

  ‘For that, Marshal, I can offer no explanation,’ Roger declared. ‘I can only assert that when the Frau Baronin and I read this news sheet a few hours ago, we were utterly amazed by its contents. Upon that I give you my oath. Naturally, we had expected that, as soon as von Haugwitz learned of our flight he would take such steps as he could to get back his wife; and had we been caught on the far side of the Rhine, I would have been compelled to give her up. That is why, as soon as we possibly could, we crossed into French territory, where the Prussian authorities have no jurisdiction.’

  ‘You are right that they have none in civil matters. And, had things been as you say you supposed them to be, von Haugwitz would have been powerless to prevent your getting away with his Baroness. But you are wanted on the criminal charge that you murdered him and your wife. By now the Prussians will have applied to the French authorities for your apprehension and extradition. It was believing you must realise that which caused me such amazement to come upon you placidly sitting there enjoying the autumn sunshine.’

  Roger’s face had become grim and he said, ‘I’ll admit that the marriages of both the Baroness and myself were most unhappy. In the circumstances this morning’s news that we were free of them came as a relief. Since receiving it we have thought of little else, so the possible consequences to us of this tragedy had not entered my mind. But I see now that our situation may soon become a desperate one.’

  While they had been talking, the escort had dismounted and were helping an ostler, who had run out of the stable yard, to change the horses drawing the coach. From its far side, an A.D.C. had emerged, run up the steps to the terrace and was shouting to the waiter to bring a bottle of the best wine.

  Augereau now followed him and, his great, gold hilted sabre clanking on the stones, came striding toward Roger’s table. Roger presented the Marshal to Georgina and, as he bowed over her hand, said quickly, ‘In view of what you tell me, Marshal, you’ll excuse us if we leave at once. Fortunately, the few things we have with us are already packed, as we had intended to set off after an early midday meal.’

  Augereau waved him back to his seat. ‘You have no need to bust your guts now. D’you think I’d stand by and let your handsome head be lopped off because you’ve given the congé to some pissing German Baron? The Emperor would never forgive me, let alone the Army that speaks of you as “le brave Breuc”. Nay, I’ll take you both with me, and under my protection you can spit in the eye of any official who attempts to detain you. All Europe knows well enough that anyone who interferes with Pierre Augereau courts death.’

  In that he made no idle boast. Augereau was the most redoubtable swordsman in the whole of the Grand Army. Even Roger, who was also renowned for his swordplay, would not have dared challenge him to a duel. He had killed scores of men and, given the least provocation, never thought twice before drawing his sword and driving it through a man’s body.

  With a sigh of relief, Roger exclaimed, ‘Indeed, Marshal, for this generous act the Baroness and I will forever be your debtors!’

  Georgina, who spoke French fluently, had followed the whole conversation. Smiling up at Augereau, she said, ‘Fortune has truly smiled on us in sending you here at this moment, Monseigneur le Duc. I would not take the Emperor himself in exchange for you as our protector.’

  Returning her smile, he casually chucked her under the chin, and replied, ‘De Breuc asserts that he did not kill your husband; but I would have for the chance of playing his part with such a peach as you, Madame.’

  The A.D.C. had joined them and Augereau introduced him as Colonel Laborde. At that moment the waiter hurried up with two bottles of wine, and glasses. Instead of waiting for the wine to be poured, the Marshal took one of the bottles, put the neck to his mouth, tilted it and swallowed half the contents without drawing breath. Setting the bottle down, he gave a gasp, licked his lips and said:

  ‘Ah! That’s better, it’s laid some of the dust from these infernal roads. Now, I have no time to lose. I halted only to change horses and give my men a chance to quench their thirsts. In five minutes we must be on our way. Go now, collect your baggage and pay your score as swiftly as you can.’

  As Roger and Georgina had left Schloss Langenstein on the pretext that they were driving into Frankfurt only for the day, he had had to leave all his things behind; while she had with her only two medium-sized valises. The Baron’s steward had believed that they contained silver articles her husband had asked her to take into Frankfurt to be valued by a goldsmith. Actually, she had packed in them her jewels, toilet things and a few underclothes. The waiter fetched them down, Roger paid his bill and, with Augereau and Laborde, they got into the big coach. At a sharp order from a sergeant, the escort mounted; and, with a clatter and a jingle, they were off.

  Augereau had told them that he was on his way to Paris, so their route lay through Trier, Luxembourg, Longwy, Rheims and Château Thierry. As the crow flies the distance was only some two hundred and fifty miles, but the roads were far from being direct highways from city to city, and this applied particularly to the road that ran alongside the Moselle. Between Coblenz and Trier, it not only followed over two dozen great bends but, in places, actually ran back for several miles in the direction from which it had come; so, with other divergences they would have to travel close on five hundred miles before they reached Paris.

  The events of the morning had forced Roger to abandon his intention of taking Georgina to Pressburg; and, when they got to Paris, having her with him there would raise new and difficult problems. But, in the meantime, Augereau’s having given them his protection was a piece of miraculous good fortune.

  The road they were travelling could not have been more picturesque. Alternately, as the smooth-flowing river curved for mile after mile through the corkscrew valley, on one bank there were lush water meadows where cattle grazed in the autumn sunshine, on the other steep hills covered with tall vines, among which the colourfully-clad peasants were gathering the grapes.

  Moreover, Augereau proved a most entertaining companion. As a child he had been a gamin playing in the Paris gutters. He was still a gamin: shrewd, resourceful, contemptuous of the laws of both God and man, full of the lust of life, foul-tongued and bawdy-minded. Within a quarter of an hour he was telling stories that would have turned the cheeks of most women scarlet and, as he did so, he watched Georgina with cynical amusement. But she listened unabashed, then after a while bested him by remarking quietly:

  ‘Monseigneur le Duc, I would find your stories even more amusing if, when telling them, you made your point without using words that are offensive to well-bred people.’

  Unused to being rebuked, he stared at her with a frown, then he gave a great guffaw of laughter and cried:

  ‘God’s boots! You are a woman in a thousand. Madame, for baiting you as I did I freely apologise and for the future, while in your presence, will endeavour to remember to call a spade a garden implement.’

  That night they slept at Berncastle, dined and wined off the best and went up to bed tired but cheerful. Before they fell asleep, Roger told Georgina something of their rumbustious protector’s extraordinary history.

  At a very early age he had got himself a job as junior footman to a Marquis, but had been dismissed for seducing the Marquise’s personal maid. His next job had been as a waiter in a gaming house, but he had lost that through seducing a waitress. He had then enlisted in the cavalry, but had been discharged for insubordination. However, a Colonel of Carabinières had been attracted by his splendid physique and taken him into his regiment. He proved an excellent trooper, a good companion and, before long, had acquired a reputation as the finest swordsman in King Louis XVI’s Household Brigade. As, by mature, he was intensely qu
arrelsome, that had led to his fighting a dozen duels. He had never been worsted and most of these encounters had ended in the death of his opponent.

  His days in the old Army had ended abruptly. A young officer had struck him with his cane while on parade. Augereau flicked the cane away. The foolish youth drew his sword. Augereau’s blade came out like a streak of lightning and, a second later, six inches of it were sticking out behind the officer’s back. Before Augereau could be seized, he was galloping off to Switzerland on a stolen horse.

  From Switzerland he made his way to Constantinople as a pedlar of watches. Turkey then being at war with Russia, he decided to enlist in the Russian Army, and served under Catherine the Great’s famous General, Suvarov. But he found his Russian comrades uncongenial, so he deserted and made his way north through Poland to Prussia. There he was accepted into Frederick the Great’s crack regiment, the Prussian Guards. Soon afterwards, to his indignation, in a fit of pique Frederick decreed that no Frenchman in his service should receive reward or promotion; so Augereau again decided to desert.

  But to do so from the Prussian Army was a far more risky proceeding than from the Russian. So, for his own protection, he secretly persuaded no fewer than sixty of his comrades to desert with him. Leading this band of desperados, he had fought his way out of Prussia into Saxony.

  Having had his fill for a while of military life he then became a dancing master and, in due course, wandered down to Athens. From there he travelled to Lisbon where he was imprisoned for enthusiastically acclaiming the Revolution that was about to sweep the Monarchy away in France. A sea captain secured his release and, at long last, he returned to his own country. There he joined a battalion of Revolutionary Volunteers in the Vendée. He proved such an excellent leader that he was enthusiastically elected chef de bataillon.