Polonaise (10 page)

It was a strong oath indeed, and Jenny, repeating it after him, wishing unspeakable horrors on herself and her heirs to the fifth generation if she should betray her Brothers, comforted herself with the thought that it was framed so entirely in male terms as almost automatically to let her out. Odd that this did not occur to the three men who leaned eagerly forward to hear her follow the leader's fluent French with her own. But they were so taken up with the honour they were doing her in letting her swear their oath at all, that it might well not occur to them how it would strike her. The very fact that it was all in French left her feeling just slightly detached. As much as her life was worth to let them see this. At the end, her mentor broke into Polish. ‘You will not understand this,' he warned, ‘but you will repeat it after me.'

She hesitated, then did so, word by word, as best she could. ‘What did it mean?' she asked afterwards, as he refilled the wine glass that she seemed to have emptied while she took the horrible oath. He hesitated, shared a glance with the other two, then: ‘It means, “If I betray you, Poland, may all my hopes be ashes.” And you have sworn it.'

‘Yes.' Without understanding. But a cold chill ran down her spine. ‘Now,' she reached out, took a piece of black bread, ate it hungrily. ‘Tell me why you want me to spy on the Princess Sobieska.'

‘We don't,' he said, surprising her. ‘The Princess is a great lady, and a great Polish patriot. You are fortunate to be going to live with her. But there is an Englishman staying with her at Rendomierz, a Mr. Glynde Rendel. You have heard of him? You know him, perhaps?'

‘I know of the family, of course. Their main estate, Ringmer, is not very far from where I live in England. They are one of the great, quiet English families. I cannot believe that one of them –'

‘We are not asking for your views, Miss Peverel.' This was the third man, who had spoken so little. ‘We are telling you of our suspicions of this man. We want to know what he is doing in Poland, now, when there is so little to bring a man like him to this country. Our English friends have told us of
him; he is an associate of Pitt and Canning, a member of the war party, in fact, and out of office like them. He was in Vienna for a while before he moved on to Cracow and Rendomierz but our friends there could find nothing out of the way in his behaviour. His contacts seemed entirely social; he did not meet the British Ambassador except at balls and parties. If he is some kind of emissary, he is a very secret one indeed. We had expected him to go on to Russia, but instead he picked up a young American at Cracow and the two of them have settled down at Rendomierz to await the wedding there.'

‘Is that so strange?' she asked.

‘Not for the American, who is a cousin of the Princess, but Rendel is something else again. He fought at Valmy, a friend of the oppressors. It may be one of them he is representing now, Austria, or even Prussia or Russia, not England at all. It may even be that he is part of a plot against the Princess Sobieska. As a known patriot, she is a very possible target for our enemies. You will make friends with this Mr. Rendel – it will be easy for you, his countrywoman – and find out for us where his real sympathies lie.'

‘I'll do my best. I have no doubt I shall find he is just an ordinary young Englishman making the Grand Tour now the peace allows it.'

‘Not so young as all that,' put in the third man. ‘He fought at Valmy, remember. And there is more to it. A very strange question hangs over him. His parents were in Paris before he was born. His mother was a great beauty.'

‘We will not trouble Miss Peverel with that,' interrupted the one they called Grand Master. ‘It is enough for her to know that we have cause to suspect him. You will watch him closely, Miss Peverel, get his confidence, find out what makes him stay so long at Rendomierz.'

‘The wedding, surely? Or is it already over?'

‘I ask the questions here.' Angrily. ‘You have your instructions. The woman, Olga, will get your reports to us. Let them be full, and frequent. No need for you to know how she sends them. What you do not know, you cannot betray, even by accident.' He refilled her wine glass. ‘Be warned. Our arm is long. If you have any idea of going to Rendomierz and telling either Rendel or the Princess about this meeting, give it up,
now. You will not be our only informant there. And it is not only you who would suffer if we learned you had betrayed us. Our friends in England could easily reach a country vicarage. You would not wish to know yourself responsible for your parents' death.'

‘You wouldn't!'

‘Where the future of Poland is at stake, we would do anything. Risking our own lives, why should we care about those of others? I tell you, now, once and once only. If we so much as suspect that you are betraying us at Rendomierz, your mother will die. You will live on, to mourn her and serve us. And if you fail us again, it will be your father's turn. Now, do you understand us? And the oath you have sworn?'

‘Yes.' Wine spilled from her glass, making a blood-red patch on the table. ‘I understand.'

Night after night, Glynde prowled his room, waiting for the summons that did not come. The trapdoor was securely bolted on the underside, or he might have ventured, uninvited, down into that dark and secret corridor. In the daytime, there was never a chance to be alone with the Princess, since Jan was always at his side, while she was surrounded by an ever-increasing throng of wedding guests.

Daily messengers arrived now from the bridegroom, each one bringing a more impressive gift: one perfect pearl, a thoroughbred Arab mare, a set of sables… Prince Ovinski was not far behind. Brass and silver in the ornate little baroque church had been polished and polished again; peasants from miles around were camping in the pleasure gardens, waiting to see their Princess married. She moved always surrounded by a loving crowd. Watching her, Glynde felt his right hand raking through his hair, that old nervous gesture his Aunt Maud had worked so hard to cure. And at night, sleep would not come, or if it did, brought passionate, frustrating dreams.

Jan was restless, too. ‘I hate to stay and watch it,' he said, as the two of them returned from an intentionally exhausting ride in the forest. ‘To see her throw herself away like this. What do you say? Shall we cut and run for Warsaw?'

It was enormously tempting. But suppose she were planning to send for him just once more? On her last night of freedom perhaps? Besides: ‘How could we? It would be the most appalling affront. And specially from you, her cousin.'

‘You're right, of course. And, who knows, when she sees the man, she may change her mind. And if she did, would need all our support.'

‘Yours perhaps, as a member of the family,' said Glynde bitterly. But how could he even think of leaving, his commission for Canning so totally unfulfilled? Fathoms deep in
love with the Princess, he had put off, every night until the next one, the questions he should have been asking her. He was paying for it now. Talk among the wedding guests who thronged the salons was curiously superficial; no information to be gathered there. Family news was enthusiastically exchanged, down to the last marriage of the remotest cousin. When the ladies rose and left the gentlemen after dinner, hunting stories, not politics, were the rule, with an occasional reference to a campaign of long ago, but even this was obviously dangerous ground.

‘Is it us they don't trust, or each other?' he asked Jan now, reining in his horse at the bottom of the pleasure gardens, before they reached the noisy bustle of the stables.

‘A bit of both, don't you think?' Jan knew what he meant. ‘When you come right down to it, after all, it's a police state, isn't it? Even here, under all the luxury, you feel it. And there are Austrians here for the wedding, don't forget. Not to mention Russians and even a Prussian or two. It's amazing how the family web is woven across Europe. Don't you find it so? Or is it the same in England?'

‘Not quite to such an extent. We have political differences within families, of course. I'm a Tory, for instance, my older brother is a Whig, we're as unlike as chalk and cheese, but we're not at daggers drawn about it. And we can talk politics when we do meet. If we want to. But then, we aren't a police state.'

‘We're lucky,' said Jan. ‘I didn't realise … Sometimes I think I'll be glad to get home.'

‘You'll go when the wedding's over?'

‘I'm not sure.' Slowly. ‘I've thought about it a great deal. I don't suppose I'll ever come to Europe again. My father's a young man still, but he plans for me to begin to take some of the load of business off his hands when I get back. And once I've started … I had my first letter from him the other day. He suggests I go on to Russia before I leave; seems to think that with this new Tsar Alexander there may be a chance of business openings for us there.'

Entering the stable yard by a side gate they found it in an even greater commotion than usual. A cortège of carriages and waggons was filing in from the front of the house, while
an escort of Cossacks shouted angrily for attention. They exchanged glances. ‘He's come,' said Glynde.

‘Yes.' Jan seemed to square his shoulders. ‘Too late to cut and run. I rather wish I had, now, don't you?'

‘Oh, thank goodness!' A woman's head appeared at the window of what they had thought an empty coach, and a shabby one at that. ‘You speak English! Would you be so good as to interpret for me? My Polish maid has been in strong hysterics all morning, and nobody seems to understand my German. Or they pretend not to! Well, of course, with the Prince's arrival.' Bright eyes under an unbecoming bonnet surveyed the usually immaculate stable yard, which was now littered with filthy straw and horse droppings as the newcomers vied for the attention of harassed grooms. ‘I hate to seem missish, but this is hardly the place for a lady to alight.'

‘You came in the Prince's train?' Glynde was trying vainly to place her.

‘Much against my will. He overtook us and swallowed us whole. Are you acquainted with the Prince Ovinski?'

‘I have not had that pleasure.'

‘He gets his own way. Oh, Olga,' she turned to her companion, and to German, ‘do stop that crying. We're here now; it's all over; the Cossacks didn't rape you; all we have to do is find some way of getting to the house without absolutely filthying ourselves, and I am sure these gentlemen will take care of that. I'm so glad to meet two Englishmen!' She smiled at them impartially, the plain face transformed. ‘I'm Jenny Peverel, come to stay with the Princess.'

‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Peverel.' Glynde smiled back at her. ‘Glynde Rendel, at your service. My friend here, Jan Warrington, is American.' But Jan had moved forward to speak rapid Polish to the coachman. Returning, he greeted her apologetically. ‘I'm afraid the man says it will be some time before he can get you back through this mêlée to the house door. I cannot imagine how he came to be so stupid.'

‘I can,' said Jenny Peverel. ‘The Prince's orders. He would not want to make his state arrival with two draggle-tailed females in tow.' She said it entirely without malice and Glynde found himself thinking the Princess was going to be lucky in
her companion. ‘There it is then,' she went on, confirming his good opinion. ‘If you would be so good as to tell the man to do the best he can for us, we'll just resign ourselves to the wait.' She turned and explained the situation to her snivelling companion. ‘But don't let us keep you two gentlemen. I've a very interesting book to read.
Clarissa Harlowe
, it will last me out nicely.'

‘It most certainly will, all seven volumes,' Glynde smiled with her. ‘But we can't abandon you to your fate here.' A Cossack, sidling his horse nearer to peer in at the far window of the coach, helped to make his point for him. ‘Ah.' He saw the groom who looked after their horses. ‘Tell him to stable them for us, Jan?' And then: ‘If you ladies would allow us to carry you in?'

‘Sir Walter Raleigh himself.' Drily. ‘But I'm afraid we're not exactly a couple of sylphs.'

‘We're stronger than we look.' He opened the carriage door and gathered her up, a compact bundle inside the broadcloth riding habit, firm, and resilient and smelling curiously like his mother. She was laughing, listening to Jan expostulating with Olga in Polish. As she leaned forward in his arms to add her persuasions to his, her bonnet fell off into the filthy straw, revealing a tumble of unruly curls. ‘Oh, what a relief,' she said, ‘I cannot begin to tell you how I have come to hate that bonnet! Olga, do stop screeching and let the gentlemen pick you up. We really cannot stay in this shambles for ever. We're causing a bit of a stir!'

They were indeed the centre of amused attention by now, the Cossacks crowding round, on horseback and on foot, with what were obviously fairly ribald comments.

Glynde said something short, sharp and unintelligible. The comments ceased; a lane opened. ‘Well, you are a dark horse,' said Jenny as he strode towards the house, carrying her as if she weighed nothing. ‘Russian! And the kind of Russian they understand.'

‘Yes,' he said, ‘the Russian of the camp and the knout.'

‘I don't think I'd better ask you what they were saying.'

He laughed shortly. ‘I most certainly won't tell you, but I'm afraid you're probably guessing quite right.' Odd to find himself liking her so much and yet to be so fiercely aware of
how totally she was not the Princess. After the long starvation, the desperate nights of waiting, it was maddening, almost horrible to hold this strange woman in his arms.

Get it over with. He lengthened his stride, tightening his grip on her as he pushed through a crowd of grooms.

‘Gently!' She spoke as she might have to a jibbing horse. ‘You're hurting me a little, Mr. Rendel.'