The Launching of Roger Brook (58 page)

In the meantime, both knew that her betrothal to M. de Caylus amounted to no more than a formality. He might send her flowers and presents and call upon her, but they would never be left alone together for a moment; so her life would continue just as it had before.

They embraced and kissed sadly once more; then she pulled the thick robe that she was wearing closely round her and Roger, having helped her out of his window, led her across the roof to the old playroom, where they kissed again and parted. When he got back to his room he found that he was dead-beat. Pulling off his clothes he flopped into bed and, laying his head on the pillow, still damp from Athénaïs’s tears, he fell unhappily asleep.

Shortly after midday he was roused by a servant coming to tell him that a courier had arrived with urgent dispatches from the United Provinces. On going downstairs he opened them to learn that a match had been struck there well calculated to light the powder-barrel.

Joseph de Rayneval wrote that, since the Stadtholder dared not visit the Hague from fear of an attempt upon his person, his wife, the beautiful and high-spirited Princess of Orange, had resolved to do so, with the intention of putting heart into their supporters there. She had set out a few days previously but, on reaching Schoonhoven, had been stopped by troops belonging to the Province of Holland, treated like a prisoner and, after suffering arrest for a few hours, turned back. For this affront, she had demanded that her brother, Frederick-William II of Prussia, should send troops to exact vengeance in her name.

When M. de Rochambeau heard the news he was delighted. He told Roger that he did not think that the King of Prussia would accede to his sister’s demand, as his predecessor, Frederick the Great, had already made Prussia’s position clear before his death. It was known that when Mr. Pitt had sent Lord Cornwallis to ascertain his
intentions during the Dutch crisis of the previous September the old and ailing monarch had declared that an alliance between England and himself to check French ambitions would mean a general war in which England would have to meet the fleets of France, Spain, Holland and perhaps Russia; while he would have on his hands the armies of France, Russia and Austria; and that ‘although such a contest had been maintained, it was not a game to play often’. So the odds were all against the Prussians taking up arms to avenge this insult to the Princess, and their failure to do so would weaken the Stadtholder’s position still further.

As soon as Roger was free of the Marquis he hurried round to the lodgings of M. de la Tour d’Auvergne but, to his chagrin, learned that the Vicomte had left that afternoon for Versailles. Why he should have done so Roger could not imagine as, normally, the Vicomte’s movements were always governed by those of Athénaïs, and she was still in Paris; but it occurred to him that now she was affianced to M. de Caylus his friend might consider himself in honour bound to cease his attentions to her.

Two days later Athénaïs and her father left again for Versailles. The Hôtel was still in a turmoil with an army of workmen setting it to rights after the ball, so Roger mooned miserably about it tripping over pieces of scaffolding, and unable to settle to anything. Then late that night M. de la Tour d’Auvergne’s servant came to ask him to go to his master’s lodging.

Roger found the Vicomte pale but calm. He said at once, ‘I trust that I have not roused you from your bed, but I wished you to know that I fight at dawn.’

There was no need to ask who. Roger nodded. ‘I had the same idea myself, but my position debars me from it.’

The Vicomte poured him a glass of wine. ‘I realise that, and ’twas one of my reasons for not asking you to be one of my seconds. The other was the fact that I do not wish Mademoiselle de Rochambeau’s name to be associated with the meeting; and your presence at it might lead to that, owing to your connection with the family. It has taken me three days hanging about Versailles to find a suitable pretext; but this afternoon I learned that M. de Caylus had booked the tennis court. I forestalled him there with M. de Broglie, and refused to give it up. High words followed
and to make certain that de Caylus should call me out I taunted him with his black blood. I said: “de la Tour d’Auvergne does not give way to one who is but three-quarters noble and the other quarter slave”; and those present had to restrain him from having at me there and then.’

‘’Twas well done,’ said Roger. ‘What think you of your chances?’

‘’Tis hard to say. Physically he is much stronger than myself, and is reputed a most redoubtable antagonist. Yet, as you know, I am well in practice and have the advantage that I have not debauched myself with opera girls these past ten years.’

‘You will kill him if you can?’

‘I must. ’Tis no case for half-measures. Naught but his death can serve to break this monstrous betrothal.’

‘May God guide your sword. But what of the results? Think you the King will enforce the edicts against duelling in your case?’

The Vicomte smoothed down the lace at his throat. ‘’Tis most unlikely that His Majesty will take serious action against a de la Tour d’Auvergne; but he may exile me to my father’s estates for a while. For that I care little, providing I can save Mademoiselle Athénaïs from this hideous match. I have a letter here that I wish you to give her in the event of my death; but should I be only wounded, or fortune favour me, I pray you destroy it.’

Roger took the letter, and asked after a moment: ‘How do you intend to spend the hours which yet have to pass before the meeting? If you desire my company I will gladly remain; but if you can sleep it would be the better for your prospects.’

‘I thank you,
mon ami
,’ the Vicomte replied, ‘but I have a quiet conscience, so think that sleep will not be denied me. We meet in the Bois de Vincennes at five o’clock; and M. de Broglie and M. de Melleraie will call for me here at four. Till then I’ll doze upon my bed.’

‘I pray you let your man, Jacques, come to me the moment the duel is over,’ said Roger, ‘and if all is well I’ll find the means to convey intelligence to Mademoiselle of the great service you will have rendered her. Meanwhile I shall not cease to think of you, and all my prayers will be for your success.’

They shook hands firmly, and Roger returned to the Hôtel de Rochambeau in a state of almost unbearable excitement. He knew his friend to be an accomplished swordsman, but also, that this was his first duel, whereas the Comte de Caylus had emerged triumphantly from upwards of a dozen serious engagements. Yet, knowing the Vicomte’s feelings as he did, it seemed to Roger that Athénaïs’s champion must overcome his opponent through sheer strength of purpose and that, if need be, divine aid would be given to ensure his victory.

The thought that within a few hours Athénaïs might be freed from her horrible commitment filled him with a sense of thanksgiving and elation; but while the issue still remained uncertain he could not escape intermittent waves of apprehension from the knowledge that the Vicomte might be called on to pay a terrible price in his bid to save her, and her position not be bettered after all.

He found sleep quite impossible and by five o’clock was down at the entrance to the courtyard, pacing feverishly to and fro; although he knew that the Vicomte’s servant could not bring him tidings of the encounter for another hour, at least.

The meeting was at five but twenty minutes or more would be occupied by the completion of the preliminaries. The seconds would take their time to choose a suitable piece of ground and make certain there were no pitfalls in it; they would discuss such points as to if their principals should fight booted or in stockinged feet, and how they should be placed before engaging so that the light favoured neither party. Then the duel itself might be prolonged by one or other of the protagonists being wounded. The seconds would intervene and a discussion would ensue as to the gravity of the wound and, if it did not appear too serious and the wounded man declared himself still unsatisfied, the combat would be renewed. Then, when a final decision had been reached, it would take a horseman riding fast a good half-hour to cover the distance between the Bois de Vincennes and central Paris. In an agony of mingled hope and fear Roger strove to fight down his impatience.

As the bell of St. Germain I’Auxerrois ceased tolling a quarter after six, he saw M. de la Tour d’Auvergne’s servant come cantering down the cobbled street, and ran out
to meet him. One look at the man’s face was enough and with a sinking heart, Roger exclaimed:

‘Your master! How is he?’

‘Bad, Monsieur!’ cried Jacques, reining in his horse. ‘Yet ’tis hoped the wound will not prove fatal. ’Twas over quickly but mighty desperate while it lasted. They fought for but two minutes, then M. de Caylus ran in upon my master and delivered a tricky thrust in the old style, from above. His sword pierced M. le Vicomte under the collar bone and, ’tis thought, passed through the top of his lung. He wished to continue, but his seconds would not permit it. He is being brought back in M. de Broglie’s coach, and I got now to warn them at our lodging.’

Wheeling his horse about the man cantered off and, sadly downcast, Roger re-entered the Hôtel. His hopes of the past night had proved only wishful thinking and his beloved Athénaïs was still chained by her father’s given word to the millionaire quadroon.

That afternoon he went to see the Vicomte and, to his relief, learned that his lung was not affected; but the sword had passed right through the upper part of his body, and the doctors said that it would be two months or so before he would be well enough to get about again.

The story of the duel soon ran round Paris and, in spite of the Vicomte’s precautions, Athénaïs’s name was freely mentioned as its cause, owing to his having so openly sought her favour. But, as neither of the combatants had been killed, and both were highly placed, the King took no action in the matter.

In the middle of the month Athénaïs returned to Paris and Roger saw her within a few hours of her arrival. She said that her fiancé now waited on her every morning and that, in Madame Marie-Angé’s company, she was compelled to endure his conversation for an hour or more. He was, she admitted, both clever and forceful; but personally, she found him odious and she had come to dread the speculative smile with which he always regarded her.

He had pressed for the marriage contract to be signed in mid-August, but she had protested that she could not possibly have her trousseau ready until well on in September, and her father had compromised by settling the date as Wednesday, the 30th of August.

As there were still seven weeks to go Roger begged her
not to take any drastic step as yet, urging that something might occur to prevent the marriage; although M. de la Tour d’Auvergne’s attempt to kill de Caylus having failed, neither of them could think of any event likely to do so.

Athénaïs asked him to express to the Vicomte her deep appreciation of the courage and devotion he had shown, and sent him many kind messages; then they embraced and, encouraging one another to hope for a miracle, parted.

Towards the end of July and in early August the Dutch Ambassador Mynheer Van Brantzen and his colleague Mynheer Van Berkenroode, paid a number of visits to the Marquis. They did not represent the Stadtholder, as he was not in the true sense a Monarch, but their High Mightinesses the States-General, and both were strong Republicans. Their visits led to a long correspondence between the Marquis and M. de Ségur, the Minister of War, by which arrangements were made for numerous consignments of French arms to be smuggled over the Dutch frontier. Then, these secret negotiations with the Dutch Emissaries were concluded one night by their arriving accompanied by a strongly armed escort, and removing in two coaches a very considerable sum in gold that the Marquis paid over to them.

It was this which at last gave Roger, as he thought, the clue to M. de Rochambeau’s deep-laid scheme. The Marquis had no intention of plunging France into a war which must have proved her final financial ruin. He was, instead seeking to make French influence paramount in the United Provinces, once and for all, by not only encouraging but actually financing a revolution.

Roger had heard enough of the conversations before the money was handed over to realise that it was to be used to pay the Republican free-corps that had been raised in most of the Dutch cities, since these careful burghers, anxious as they were to abolish their hereditary Chief Magistrate, would not leave their businesses to take up arms against him unless their expenses were first guaranteed.

That the Marquis and his friends were evidently not, after all, plotting to bring about a general war greatly relieved Roger’s anxieties. Civil war was a very different matter and he did not feel that this could bring his country into jeopardy, or seriously weaken her position. British prestige in the United Provinces was already so low that it
could hardly be lower. Britain’s friend, the weak and inept Stadtholder had for many months past exercised little more than a tenuous authority over a small minority of his cities, so it did not appear that it could materially affect the situation if he were swept away altogether. The thing that did matter and was of vital concern, was that the Dutch ports should not fall into the hands of France, but they certainly could not do so without an outbreak of hostilities between the nations, and of that there now seemed little likelihood.

The King’s troubles had by no means been ended by his dissolution of the Assembly of Notables. On the 12th of July certain members of the Parliament of Paris had, for the first time, proposed that, since the Notables had failed, the Estates-General, which had not sat for one hundred and seventy-three years, should be summoned; and declared that they alone had the right to impose fresh taxation. On the 19th the Parliament followed this by flatly refusing to register the Royal edict imposing the new taxes. They were, in fact, little more than a judicial body and had no power to make laws themselves; but they at least possessed a type of negative veto, since no measure ordained by the King actually became law until they had registered it.