Polonaise (19 page)

‘Everyone sympathises deeply with you, Princess, in your sad loss.' The maid who had brought the coffee was pouring it. ‘I am charged with so many messages for you that I hardly know where to begin. Dr. Scott has undertaken to break the sad news to the Prince.' A quick exchange of glances told her that the Princess understood just how many glasses of vodka stood between the intention and the act.

‘Any other news? Thank you, Gabriela, you may go.'

‘Rumours only, but disquieting ones. You know how news travels among the serfs. They seem to think that there has been a battle somewhere in the west; that the Austrians and the Russians have been defeated. Of course, hating their Austrian occupiers as they do, they may be deluding themselves. I believe, though, there has been some trouble in Sandomierz; stones thrown at the Austrian troops; that kind of thing.'

‘And reprisals, I suppose?'

‘Savage ones. Which makes me think there may be some truth in the rumours.' She had asked Olga to try and find out if the Brotherhood knew anything.

‘The Austrians are afraid?'

‘I think so.'

‘I must get up. Find me something dark, Jenny. I'm in mourning, remember. How odd that a woman isn't really expected to mourn her unborn child.'

‘I expect the assumption is that it would have been a girl.' Jenny moved towards the big wardrobe in the next room. ‘Not black, I think, granted the real state of the case. What's the matter?' A strangled exclamation from the Princess brought her hurrying back to her bedside.

‘Not in there! Never in there! Jenny – What's that?' Someone was tapping at the door of the boudoir.

‘Highness!' It was Leon Wysocki, her major-domo. ‘There's a stranger at the gate, demands admission.'

‘Demands?'

‘Yes. Shabby and travel-stained, in a broken-down calash, and demands admission. Insists that he see you. Highness, there is something about the way he talks. I thought at least I had better let you know.'

‘Thank you. What do you think, Jenny?'

‘Oh, I always believe in saying “yes”.'

‘Very well.' She pulled her negligee more closely round her. ‘Admit him, Leon. Let him cool his heels in one of the small parlours while I get ready to receive him.' And back to Jenny, ‘The dark green, don't you think, Jenny?'

‘The crimson suits you better. You need colour just now.'

‘I need to look ill. I've just miscarried, remember. But very well, the crimson it is. Oh God, Jenny, how would I have managed without you?'

Half an hour later, refusing to bother with jewellery, or any other aids to beauty, she pronounced herself ready. ‘Give me your arm, Jenny. I will receive this importunate traveller among my friends.'

She bore the loving questions of her little court with equanimity, but cut them short by announcing that they had a guest to receive. ‘Fetch him, Leon.' She turned to Dr. Scott
who was clucking round her like an incompetent hen. ‘Have you written my sad news to the Prince?'

‘Not yet, Highness. It must be delicately done …'

‘Yes. There is no great hurry. Bad news travels fast enough …' She looked towards the little stir in the doorway where a tall figure had appeared, the collar of a shabby greatcoat pulled up around his face.

He swept off the hat that had been pulled down over his brows, revealing unkempt golden curls. ‘Princess! I am come to claim asylum in your hospitable house!'

‘Sire!' She went down into the deepest of curtseys, her court following her example.

‘No, no!' He strode towards her, raised her gracefully. ‘I am plain Pan Thaddeus while I travel through Poland, and must be treated as such. But what is this? You have been ill, Princess?'

‘A little. Nothing to signify. But you, sire …' She corrected herself: ‘Sir. You look exhausted. What can I get for you? Vodka? Schnapps? Wine?'

‘A cup of tea, dear lady. Just a cup of your delicious tea and a warm bed for the night. I have been travelling night and day since the Corsican upstart outwitted us. You've not heard?' He was quickly aware of the stir of interest in the crowd around them.

‘Nothing certain. Rumours only … The Austrians are not lavish with information.'

‘Specially not now, when the news is all of their shame. My Russians fought like heroes, like demons, but the Austrian Generals were outfoxed by Napoleon. I never thought I would lead my armies for the first time into defeat.'

‘You were on the field of battle? You risked your life?'

‘Naturally, I did. It was my privilege … my duty. Send your people away, Princess. It would ease my heart to tell my sad story to a friend like you. I am only sorry not to have found the Prince here; I had hoped for his wise counsel as well as your loving sympathy.'

‘Your Highness is too kind.'

‘The kindness is all on your side, beautiful Princess, and I am going to ask for more from you. Never was monarch in sadder plight, in more need of comfort. But my desolate story
is for you alone, and besides, your pale cheeks betray you. You would be better in the seclusion of your own rooms; indulge me as an old friend of your husband's, and let me join you there for the cup of tea I long for?'

A request? A command? The Princess exchanged a long, thoughtful look with Jenny and then gave the necessary orders.

‘This is better! This is what I need!' He seated her on the chaise longue in her boudoir, motioned the servant to place the tea things beside her and moved a chair closer. ‘Send the girl away. You will serve me with your own fair hands?'

‘With pleasure.' Her hands were not quite steady on the urn. ‘But you were to tell me what happened.'

‘Defeat! Disaster! Both Austrians and Prussians have betrayed me. I stand alone against the Corsican tyrant.'

‘The English?'

‘Will give money, but never their blood. Isobel.' He had drained his tea at one draught, put down the cup and took her hand. ‘I need comfort! I have never felt so alone. These last days; a nightmare! I, a fugitive! Driving through Austrian territory; wondering whether my “brother” the Emperor Francis will decide to hand me to the French tyrant. Suspecting friends and foes alike.'

‘No need to suspect me, sire.' She used his title on purpose. ‘We Poles do not betray our friends.'

‘Your Poles fought gallantly at Austerlitz. On the wrong side.' He moved his chair nearer hers. ‘I should have listened. To you and to Czartoryski. Would the tide of battle have flowed in another direction, do you think, Isobel, if I had fought it as King of Poland?'

‘I am sure it would!' Was she? ‘It is not too late, sire. Speak now! Announce it now, and see what will happen! The rumours of Austrian defeat have been rife for days; there has been trouble; disturbances savagely put down. Only place yourself at our head, you will have a new army of loyal Poles.'

‘At the moment of defeat? I would rather it was on the tide of victory.' He reached out and took her hand.

‘Sire, I sometimes think we Poles are at our best in time of defeat. It unites us, you see.' She tried to withdraw her hand; failed. ‘You would gain yourself a whole nation of allies. Ones who will never fail you.'

‘You say that? But what of your son? Of Prince Casimir's claim?'

‘I would bring him up to be the first and most loyal of your Polish subjects.'

‘Would you? I think I would need a guarantee of that, Isobel. A pledge of love. You are pale, beautiful lady, you are sad. And no wonder. You have sacrificed your youth and beauty to an old man for your country's sake. You have done well; you have a fine Prince to prove it. Now, you are entitled to a little happiness. We will comfort each other, you and I. And I will know you, for always, my friend.'

‘Your loving servant, sire.'

‘My love.' He stood up, pushed aside the tea things, gathered her in his arms. ‘I carried you once before, Isobel. Knew it would come to this. Today is our destiny. Tomorrow, I must leave for Petersburg and face the world.'

‘What can I say?'

‘No need for words.' He bent to kiss her.

Travelling slowly with the defeated army, the three young men did not reach Petersburg till well after Christmas.

‘The Tsar seems to have received a hero's welcome.' Glynde and Jan were entertaining Granville.

‘That was before the wounded started limping in,' Granville said impatiently. ‘Everyone's waiting now for news of the dead. There's none, of course. It's painful to go out into society, be buttonholed by mothers and wives longing for news I can't give. Frankly, I long for my recall.'

‘You're so sure it will come?'

‘Yes. Pitt's dying; there's bound to be a change of government. New men, new policies … I hope you'll stay on, Glynde, and keep me posted.'

‘Oh, I think so. There's not much to call me home. If you'll excuse me, gentlemen? I have a visit to make.'

Left alone, the other two exchanged a long, thoughtful glance. ‘Mrs. Richards?' asked Granville at last.

‘I'm afraid so. It don't mean a thing, you know. I suspect he really goes there for news of the Princess. The other … just happened. If you'd ever seen Mary Richards, you'd under
stand. She's pretty as a picture, and not much more to say for herself.'

Granville laughed. ‘You make her sound irresistible!'

‘Welcome. At last.' The Prince greeted his wife at the great wooden gate of his country house at Vinsk. ‘And Miss Peverel.' He took her hand, very completely his urbane self. ‘But where is the child? Where is Casimir?'

‘He was not well,' lied Casimir's mother. ‘A childhood ailment, but it quite unfitted him for the journey. He will be better at home.'

‘From now on, this is your home, ma'am. We will send for the child. My people here must get to know their next lord. You are in looks, my dear. I trust I see you better.'

‘Quite better, thank you.' She was looking at the ranks of serfs drawn up almost in military order to greet her. ‘You keep your state here, I see.'

‘I hope you will find things well ordered. There was a sad lack of discipline when I arrived. Well, when the master's away …'

Jenny, following as they walked slowly along the lines of serfs towards the palace doorway, could see what they could not: ingratiating smirks replaced instantly by scowls, and here and there the unmistakable mark of the knout, savagely red across a face that tried to smile. Order had been achieved at a price.

‘I don't like it here!' Olga came to her room as she was changing for dinner. ‘I wish we had brought more of our own people. They treat us like dirt belowstairs. And their lingo! I had a friend in Warsaw from Lithuania, learned a bit of their horrid language from him. I'm glad I did now. I soon showed them they couldn't sneer at us to our faces.'

‘Was that what they were doing?' Jenny had been disconcerted to find the Prince's people speaking a language she had never heard before.

‘Of course. I learned a thing or two before I let them know I could understand.'

Jenny was surprised and disconcerted to find that the Princess and her small retinue of close servants were lodged in a wing of the rambling wood-built palace far removed from the
Prince's quarters. Conducting his wife there, later that night, the Prince bade her a stately farewell at the entrance to her suite of rooms. ‘You will be fatigued; there will be time to talk in the morning.'

‘He's got a mistress, tucked away in his own wing, that's why.' Olga had brought Jenny's breakfast. ‘A Jewish beauty he bought from her father years ago when she was a mere child. On a promise of marriage, of course. They're strict, the Jews. He's kept her here ever since, poor girl. I do wonder, don't you, what made him insist on the Princess coming here?'

‘So they are talking to you downstairs?' Jenny was too much interested in the information to scold Olga for producing it.

‘Freely enough now.' Olga laughed and tossed her head. ‘Now I've told them we don't like their Prince Almighty any more than they do. The stories they tell of him would make your blood run cold. He hadn't been here for a while, see. The overseer had got lax; more drinking than working went on, and a merry time had by all.'

‘What about the Jewish lady?'

‘God, they hate her. She's the one told on them; wrote him what was going on. Must have been. He turned up with no notice given one day when they were drinking his vodka in his dining-hall. The overseer's in Siberia now,' Olga told it with relish, ‘his family were turned out of the house into the snow. No one knows what happened to them. No one dared take them in. The Jewish woman spoke up for them, I'll say that for her, but he shut her up in that smooth way of his. “Be grateful it's not your children,” he said.'

‘She has children?'

‘Two boys. Both older than Casimir. Wouldn't I just like to see the Princess's face when she meets them.'

‘That will do, Olga.'

‘So you see your problem, my dear.' The Prince had joined his wife over breakfast in her boudoir. ‘I could declare our marriage bigamous tomorrow, if I so wished. It would inconvenience me too, of course; the Tsar would not much like it. Miriam is from Warsaw, by the way. Our sons are proper little Poles. I'm sorry you did not choose to bring Casimir. It would
have been good for him to have two older brothers to knock some behaviour into him.'

‘You acknowledge them as your sons?'

‘Not as my legitimate sons. Not yet … And that reminds me, I wish to hear more of that remarkable visit the Tsar paid you on his way back from Austerlitz. You did not choose to mention it in your letters.'

‘You have heard? You know?' She was white as ivory.

‘Where you are concerned, my dear, you may count on it that I keep myself well informed. Of course I have heard. Of course I know. And no need to look so whey-faced either. As a husband, I should, I suppose, resent it, but, granted that most unfortunate miscarriage, I can only, as a diplomat, admire you for what you did. At least,' he smiled his urbane smile, and suddenly made her think of a death's-head, ‘you are logical in your behaviour. An heir for Poland. And what an heir that would have been.' He stood up, looked down at her with a detachment she found frightening. ‘As it is, I think we had best decide to make do with Casimir. At least for the time being.' And on that dubious note he left her.