The Twisted Sword (7 page)

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Authors: Winston Graham

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BOOK: The Twisted Sword
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Ross said: 'And do you feel the army - the French army - is loyal to the King?'

Somerset reached over for the port.

'Allow me, sir,' said Charles Bagot, getting up.

"You will know', said Somerset, 'that Liverpool has never relied on Embassy despatches for his information. He has developed an army of informants who add to the confidential reports sent from here. I do not know if one should criticize this. Jenky looks on it as a necessary arm of government; but as a result I have no doubt he already receives too many reports on what the French are thinking. It could not be other, because there are almost as many French opinions as there are Frenchmen! Late last year a Colonel Jenkinson - a brother of the Earl - came to the capital and has visited various parts of France; and, although I have not seen his reports, I believe they have been alarmist.'

'Unduly so?'

'In my opinion, yes. And in the Duke's opinion too. There is much talk of Bonapartism. But really it is a word used as an instrument of opposition. Many people who use it would not have Napoleon back for the world. But Lord Liverpool, as I have said, sees a revolutionary behind every bush, and I suspect his brother is of the same persuasion.'

Ross reflected that in London he had drunk brandy from France and in Paris he was drinking port from Portugal. What, he wondered, was Canning drinking in Lisbon?

'This reception you are giving tomorrow night. . .'

'Ah, yes. I would tell you, my friend, in Paris there is nothing but receptions, dances, operas, theatres, one round of entertainment, ignoring the poverty that sprawls all around. And this reception tomorrow night is just one of many. But I am holding it chiefly so that you and Lady Poldark may meet a number of people who will be valuable to you socially or for your other objective of seeing and understanding something of the stirrings in the political undergrowth.'

Bagot said: "There is one man who says he knows you, a Colonel de la Blache, who wishes to see you again.'

Ross looked blank. 'I don't think I recollect--'

'I'm not sure if he knows you but I believe you knew his sister -- or his sister's fiance, the Comte de Sombreuil.'

'Oh yes indeed! I shall be happy to meet him. When I was in Paris last, twelve years ago, I tried to find Mile de la Blache but could not.'

'What happened to de Sombreuil?' Fitzroy Somerset asked. 'I suffer from the disadvantage of being young.'

'De Sombreuil and I and many others took part in an Anglo-French landing on the Brittany coast - near Quiberon - that was in '95. It was a big affair with a strong escort of British warships and was intended to rouse the Chouans, who had been carrying on a desultory war against the Jacobins for years. A large party of Frenchmen was landed and the King's flag raised, but the invasion fell apart from lack of direction and organization. General Lazare Hoche led a Republican army against us and gained a victory. Hoche gave his word that the lives of all those who surrendered should be spared, but the Revolutionary Convention overruled him and about seven hundred men, most of them gentlemen, were shot to death. The leaders, like Charles de Sombreuil,,we re executed later.'

There was a brief silence. Ross added: 'It was really the very last hope the Bourbons ever had, until Napoleon abdicated last year. If the invasion had succeeded ... Instead we have had to slog it out.'

Bagot said: 'I often wonder how the French have the face to speak of "Perfide Albion". No one could be more perfidious than the French, especially when dealing with each other!'

IV

Demelza was not asleep when Ross came in, and they lay a time in bed in desultory talk. He told her what had passed downstairs. Demelza said: 'Lady Fitzroy Somerset is a nice, easy person, isn't she. The Duchess I'm not so sure about. Very tight. She adores the Duke. But of course the loss of her brother ... Did you think Harry was a thought feverish this evening?'

'I'd not be surprised after all this travelling. Have you a draught you can give him?'

'I have given him one. Mrs Kemp thinks it may still be his teeth.'

'Bella was very good at supper.'

'Ross, I did not know whether it was proper to bring her in, but she is so grown-up looking - that is when she restrains her high spirits. Lady Fitzroy Somerset thought she was sixteen!'

'So did Edward Fitzmaurice.'

Demelza yawned and stretched. 'Well, we are in Paris at last! Amid all these lords and ladies I am quite overcome.'

'You are one yourself now.'

'Do you know,' she said, pushing her hand up through the hair curling on her forehead. 'Do you know, I cannot at all begin to see myself as such; but here - in Paris - it does not matter! Here we live in a world of make-believe. I can easy pretend to be Lady Poldark; 'twill be great fun! I shall put on airs if I like to and pretend I am used to the high life. But it will be when we go home...'

'What then?'

"Then -- there - I will always be - will always be Demelza Poldark - Mrs Ross Poldark, same as I have always been. I want nothing more.'

'You'll find in the end it will be just the same thing.'

'Hope so.'

Outside a clock was striking midnight. After they had counted together Ross said: 'I wonder if I am here on a fool's errand.'

'Why should you be?'

'Fitzroy Somerset is astute enough, though so young. Although he is very gracious about it - and friendly towards us because we were already his friends - I think he feels exasperated that Liverpool should keep adding to his reporters and advisers. And I don't blame him. Anyway, he thinks that fears of an insurrection in France are overdone. So apparently did Wellington, who has only been gone a month. His reassuring reports to Liverpool failed to convince; but Liverpool, I know, is full of apprehensions about Jacobins, whether in England or in France. I feel I should have made something more than a token protest about conditions in England before I came on this mission. For it is much more conditions than principles that make the revolutionary. Do you know, for instance, that the Treasonable Practices Act is still in force in England? This forbids public meetings and makes writing, printing and speaking against the Government a punishable offence.'

She looked at him gravely for a moment. 'I am not sure as to your meaning, Ross.'

'Of course I know that Liverpool would say the Act, though still in force, is seldom used. But its existence is a constant threat to the expression of free opinion. And now comes the Corn Bill! What I am asking you is what I am doing receiving a title and a handsomely paid holiday in Paris just to inquire into the Jacobin and Bonapartist tendencies of the French army? If I were more important...'

Yes?'

'If I were more important I would think I might be being bought off. Since that is ridiculous - the amount my influence would sway opinion inside Parliament or out is so small as to be ludicrous - I can only suppose that he was sincere in inviting me to make this excursion. But God knows whether there will be a worthwhile outcome.'

'This is the first day,' said Demelza. 'We have only been here a few hours. Let us wait and see.'

Chapter Six

They slept late and were not wakened. They breakfasted in their rooms, with views over wide lawns to a large boulevard full of traffic, and then a servant took them across to their apartment in the rue de la Ville l'Eveque. It was on the third floor of four, spacious, light, with shutters to keep out the absent sun; sparsely furnished and draughty, though fires burned in the grates and two menservants went with the apartment to stoke them. Fitzroy Somerset had warned Demelza the night before that 'the French do not quite understand the idea of an English fireside'. The silken hangings needed washing and there was dust and an occasional web in a corner, also there were far too many gilt mirrors. But the kitchen looked clean, the beds were fairly clean and certainly there was ample room for all. Bella went dancing round the apartment, hopping from rugs to tiled parquet and back again and singing

'Ripe Sparrergras', but fortunately only at half power. Henry kept slipping on the rugs and ended up banging his head on a massive stool which he henceforward claimed as his own. They dined at the Embassy and changed there for the reception, which began at five. Demelza was glad that she had spent so much money on new gowns for her stay at Bowood a few years ago. What she was wearing might not be the height of fashion, but it reflected the big change there had been in general styles at that time and had not become so outmoded in the last three years. By the time the reception was in full swing it was a glittering company. Ross early on met a youngish officer of artillery called Brigadier Gaston Rougiet, whom he took a liking to. He was a buoyant, frank, engaging man with a duelling scar that made Ross's old cicatrice look like a pin scratch. He was stationed at Auxerre, and he invited Ross to visit his unit 'any day next week when I am back' to sup with his fellow officers and to spend a couple of nights. He had been very much a Napoleon man until the last grim battles of last year, when he had sided with Ney and the other generals. However, from one or two half-laughing asides, he gave the impression that he found the Bourbon regime not easy to accept. He told Ross that his father had been a tradesman and that he had begun life as clerk to an attorney. He had gone into the army at nineteen and at thirty-eight was the hardened veteran of fifty battles. He seemed exactly the sort of man Ross, in his dubious capacity as an agent for the Earl of Liverpool, should get to know, so he accepted the invitation. Rougiet asked him if they were going to the opera tomorrow evening; if so he hoped that they would share his box. Demelza had stood near her husband for a time in the chambre de parade, listening as far as she could and admiring, without appearing to admire, the lavish decorations and ornaments of these reception rooms, one leading out of another. It was indeed a palace, not as great a mansion as Bowood, but excelling it in magnificence. Dozens of candles already burned in sconces - though it was not yet dark - illuminating the carvings, the statues, the gilded chairs, the paintings; and the bare shoulders and elegant gowns of the women, the brilliant uniforms of the men. But presently the precocious Bella urged her to take her into the grand salon where ice-creams were being served. Demelza had been exercised of mind whether to allow IsabellaRose to accompany them tonight; she was just at mat awkward age, half child, half woman, when there seemed no sure dividing line. It was Emily Fitzroy Somerset who had suggested she should come - there would be other young people there - and indeed Bella was already tall and well grown, tremendously vivacious and, when she could keep her vivacity within bounds, a very attractive girl. She had behaved herself so well at supper last night and at dinner today that she deserved the favour. But it was awful to find oneself an island in a sea of French speakers. True, most of them, when they found Demelza uncomprehending, could produce a few words of English and smiled and nodded and were very gracious. Before she was pulled away by Bella she had heard Ross speaking his halting French to Brigadier Rougiet and had resolved that somehow she must make head and tail of the language or perish. Tomorrow morning first thing a teacher should be engaged to teach both her and Isabella Rose, and if this did not please Mrs Kemp (who had a smattering and thought she had more) it was just too bad. She had been at the party for quite a time and was wondering how soon she should escape when someone behind her said: 'Lady Poldark?'

She turned and saw a slim young man with long fair hair down to his shoulders and a drooping moustache. He was dressed in a brilliant royal-blue velvet coat, a green embroidered waistcoat, yellow nankeen trousers and was smiling at her as if she ought to know him. She was sure she'd never seen him before in her life. She swallowed the lump that always came in her throat when anyone called her by her new title. Yes?'

'My name is Havergal. Christopher Havergal. Emily told me you were here, and I felt sure - it is such an unusual name - that you must be related to Major Geoffrey Poldark of the 43rd Monmouthshires. If I am wrong pray forgive me.' He looked at IsabellaRose and smiled.

'Geoffrey Charles is my cousin's son,' said Demelza. 'My husband's cousin's son. He's in the next room. My husband, I mean. You are - Mr Havergal?'

'Lieutenant Havergal, ma'am. I had the honour of serving under Major Geoffrey Poldark at the Battle of Toulouse - the last battle of the war. Soon afterwards, alas, Major Poldark resigned his commission.'

IsabellaRose looked at Lieutenant Havergal and smiled.

'Are you still in the army?' Demelza asked.

'I transferred out of the 43rd before they left for America, and am now in the 95th Rifles. On leave, of course. And since there is no war at present, enjoying an extended vacation in Paris. Is this young lady your daughter, ma'am, may I ask?'

Yes. This is IsabellaRose, our second - third daughter.'

Lieutenant Havergal bowed. 'What a beautiful girl!'

'Thank you,' said Demelza, while Bella glinted back at him, not at all embarrassed.

'But of course,' said Havergal, 'what else could one expect? If you will pardon the familiarity.' He looked as if he expected the familiarity to be pardoned. Demelza decided if he didn't have so much hair he would look very young. Perhaps that excused the familiarity. She said: 'I'm sure Ross will wish to meet you.'

"Thank you, ma'am. I believe Major Poldark married a Spanish lady, didn't he? Is he in Paris, do you know?'

'I do not think so. The last I heard, he was in Spain. They have a child, a daughter, born late last year.'

'How delightful. Are you staying long, Lady Poldark? In Paris, I mean?'

'Well, yes, we've only just arrived. We have an apartment on the rue - rue, what is it, Bella?'

'Rue de la Ville l'Eveque,' said Bella, already getting the accent right.

'I shall be here another two weeks.' Havergal twisted the end of his moustache, which was smooth and silky. 'Perhaps I may be permitted to call on you? It would be a great honour.'

Demelza's attention had been temporarily diverted by the arrival of two extraordinary men, just walking in from the antichambre.

'Of course,' said Bella, deputizing for her absent mother.

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