A Foreign Affair (4 page)

And make the most of it they did. The princess was an amusing conversationalist who seemed to possess an endless fund of titillating gossip about anyone and everyone. There was no member of the august assemblage gathered in Vienna too staid or too respectable not to have some scandalous tidbit that she could relate about them .with her enchanting laugh and slyly infectious smile.

“So you see. Major, we are all very gay here. In my heedless youth, I sought this giddy sort of life to such an extent that I was the despair of my parents. My first husband was a most wild young man, a member of the Prince Regent’s set, though, of course, he was only the Prince of Wales at the time, and we moved with a very fast crowd indeed. But our activities then absolutely pale in comparison to those now to be found here in Vienna. Why, it is so frantic that it makes even my head spin.” She smiled ruefully, but, the sparkle in her eyes was a very clear indication that she considered herself more than equal to such a challenge.

“And the prince, your husband, does he not long to share in all this gaiety with you?”

“Good heavens, no! He is far too serious for such diversions. I am afraid he considers his wife to be a sadly frivolous creature.”

“But an exquisitely beautiful one. Such beauty should not be hidden away in a country schloss, but displayed in an arena worthy of it where it can be appreciated by the rest of the world.”

The appreciative gleam in the blue eyes smiling down at her and the warmth in Brett’s voice made the princess shiver with delightful anticipation. Heavens, but the man had a deliriously seductive way about him. “You flatter me. Major. But the sad truth is that I
am
a sadly frivolous creature. I must have music and clever conversation and lights and gaiety surrounding me, for what is the purpose of life if one cannot enjoy it to its fullest?”

“What indeed?”

“There has, however, been little enough to enjoy as of late with that Corsican monster making war all over Europe. The terrors I have been through, the worry . . . well”—she waved her hand dismissively—”that is all in the past now and best forgotten. At least there is peace on the Continent to a certain degree, but who knows if it will endure? Even now the prince is off with his regiments on the Polish border, ready to defend us should discussions here not go well. Oh, these terrible times! I vow, I simply detest politics. But”—she brightened as she bestowed another dazzling smile on her companion—”I shall not repine. For the moment I am indeed fortunate to be so charmingly distracted, for which I thank you very much indeed.”

Chapter Four

The day was so fine and the society so congenial that the drive lasted a good deal longer than either Brett or the princess had anticipated, and both parties returned to their respective lodgings more than satisfied with the outing and looking forward to others with agreeable anticipation.

The princess had been extremely pleased to note that she was indeed the envy of many women forced to ride in inferior equipages driven by men of inferior looks and only moderate ability.

And for his part, Brett had established to his complete satisfaction that the Princess von Hohenbachern was a woman whose sole occupation in life was the pursuit of amusement, and the more lighthearted the amusement, the better.

However, the next social event Brett was called on to attend had nothing to do with amusement and everything to do with duty. He had just returned from his morning ride in the Prater the following day and was on his way to his quarters to change when he was forestalled by a messenger from Castlereagh himself informing him that the foreign secretary wished to see him immediately in his study.

Castlereagh looked up from a pile of documents as Brett entered, his handsome narrow face wearing a grave expression, but then, Brett could not ever recall a time when the foreign secretary did not look grave. Certainly, as a man who felt himself responsible for helping to ensure that peace continued in Europe, Castlereagh had a perfect right to look grave.

“Ah, Stanford. Good of you to come so quickly. Sit down, man, sit down.” The foreign secretary indicated a chair on the opposite side of his massive mahogany desk. “Now, Wellington has assured me, and I have also heard from others, that your command of the French language is excellent. You do not, by chance speak German, do you?”

Brett shook his head.

“Well; no matter. Most of the Germans, whenever anyone else is present, speak French anyway, rather badly, but at least comprehensibly. The thing is this. Our role here, as I see it, is to maintain the balance of power in Europe so that no one nation gains ascendancy over the others. We may have peace now, but it is an uneasy peace and war could break out again at any moment. The Prussians, for example, have territorial ambitions of their own. We all have witnessed their abominable imprisonment of the Saxon king, whose former support of Napoleon they are using as an excuse to take over his territory. I tell you, the Prussians are not entirely to be trusted. Besides that, members of our own Parliament, who rarely if ever concern themselves with European affairs, are now suddenly expressing a great deal of agitation over the fate of Saxony, which looks as though it will be annexed by Prussia unless we are able to stop it.

“The key question in all of this is where do the rest of the German sovereigns stand on the issue of Saxony and the future of the German states in general? My people tell me that these other German sovereigns spend endless hours discussing their future. Most of these dispossessed rulers lost their lands to Bonaparte, and now they look to the Treaty of Paris to reinstate them. This treaty insures that the German states will retain their independence, but they will be united by a federal tie. I need to know to whom they will look for leadership once their powers are reinstated and they form this federal tie. Will it be Austria or will it be Prussia? They are all minor players on their own, but together they are strong enough to present a real threat, and if they are ruled by Prussia, then Prussia may feel strong enough to ignore the rest of us and support Russia in its claim to Poland, which would unbalance the entire system.

“Already armies are massing on the Polish Saxon border, preparing to fight if need be. However, if the German states allow themselves to be led by Austria, which has far fewer territorial ambitions than Prussia, we are safe.” Lost in thought, the foreign secretary gazed abstractedly out the window over the red-tiled rooftops of the city.

“But surely you must have some plan for seeing to it that Prussia does take over in this manner?” Brett was reasonably certain that the foreign secretary had not called a junior officer into his study to discuss his views on British diplomacy.

“Perhaps, but it is all such an impenetrable mess and the alliances are constantly shifting. Everyone here is continually striving to discover what everyone else is thinking and this thinking itself changes from moment to moment I am weary of it already, and we have only just begun. At any rate, I am sending Clancarty to a soiree tonight at the Princess von Furstenberg’s, where the German sovereigns meet on a regular basis. Of all the members of our delegation, Clancarty understands European politics the best. His recent service in the Netherlands has made him see how crucial it is that no one foreign power grows too strong. He will know what to listen for, what to say, which dissatisfied German princeling he should remind that England, with its own strong connections to Hanover, possesses a great sympathy for German concerns. But Clancarty is only one man. While he does the talking, I need someone else to observe the rest of the guests. Of course you will not be able to understand the conversations you overhear if they are in German, but my guess is that with foreigners present they will speak in French, if not out of courtesy to the foreigners, at least out of a wish to prove that they are not so provincial as the rest of us think they are. I do hope you and Clancarty cannot only discover something useful, but establish a certain amount of influence with them. We cannot ever again allow another nation like Russia or Prussia to grow so powerful that it can establish a stranglehold on Europe the way Bonaparte did.”

“No indeed, sir.” Brett rose. “I shall do my best, sir.”

 “That is all any of us can do, Stanford.” Castlereagh sighed heavily. “Wellington assures me that, in addition to your linguistic capabilities, you are a very sharp observer. You must not only pay attention at the Princess von Furstenberg’s soiree, but keep an eye out for anyone who might be watching you. There are spies everywhere. In the last eight years alone, the emperor has increased the Austrian budget for its agents fivefold, and it now seems that every chambermaid, every innkeeper, every tollgate keeper is in the pay of Hager, who runs their secret police, and they are sending him daily reports on all of us. In addition to that, John King, our own agent, tells me that he has been able to intercept reports from any number of agents in the employ of other delegations who are keeping track of us. There is Heir H, who appears to be connected to the Prussians; another agent, who simply signs himself ***, who seems to be an aristocrat of some sort, possibly in Hager’s pay; also 00, who specializes in Hungarian affairs; and Nota and Chevalier Freddi, who are experts in Russian and Italian matters. So you see, Vienna is fairly seething with spies. But there is no need for me to warn you of this. You are a soldier, you are accustomed to these things. I rely on you to keep your wits about you. Good day, Major.”

“Good day, sir.” Slowly and thoughtfully Brett descended the stairs from the foreign secretary’s rooftop study to the street, where he joined the fashionable throngs strolling along the Herrengasse. He was in no mood either for company or for the solitude of his own quarters, but he needed to think, to sort through the complexity of the problems Castlereagh had just sketched out for him, and walking along in the relative anonymity of the crowd suited his mood exactly. He knew so few people in Vienna that he was reasonably assured that no encounter with an acquaintance would interrupt his train of thought, and he had always found that he thought more clearly when he was active. The casual pace along the Herrengasse was perfect for his questioning frame of mind, and the noises of the street, the cries of street vendors, the steady clop of horses’ hooves, the rumble of carriages all merged into an agreeable hum of activity that stimulated his thoughts.

Castlereagh had alluded to a confusing number of political possibilities, but the one thing he had remained absolutely clear on was his determination to maintain peace in Europe and keep it from suffering ever again the expansionist ambitions of a single nation.

Brett agreed wholeheartedly with the foreign secretary. As a soldier in the Peninsula, he had seen more than he ever cared to of the misery caused by imperial France’s hunger for territory. He would never forget the hollow cheeks and haunted eyes of starving peasants in Spain, the horror of villages plundered by French troops, and the desolation of a land whose crops had been stripped bare by a foraging army.

Brett had originally joined the cavalry fired by the ideals of his youth, many of which had been strongly influenced by his friendship with the son of General de Broglie living in the neighboring émigré community at Juniper Hall. As a boy he had thrilled to the saga of the family’s escape from France in an open boat across the Channel. He had been present when the news of the death of the king and queen of France had reduced the household to shocked silence. He had seen the horror in the faces of these former aristocrats, many of whom had supported the democratic ideals of the revolution only to have it turn on them later.

Then and there, Brett had vowed to help his friend fight to rid France of the bloodthirsty tyrants who had taken away their lands and killed so many people. Eventually, Brett had lost touch with the de Broglies when he went to school, but he had never lost touch with his determination to avenge the wrongs that had been done to them and to so many people like them. At the first opportunity afforded to him, he had joined the cavalry and gone to fight in the Peninsula.

The harsh realities of war that he had witnessed during the Peninsular campaign, the deaths of comrades, and the determination of the Spanish people to rid themselves of French tyranny had only strengthened his resolve to do his part in defeating Napoleon and bringing peace to Europe.

When peace had come at last, be had thought his job finished, but he had felt at a little bit of a loss as to what to do next. The idea of returning to guard duty at St. James’ or some other equally tame existence did not appeal to his adventurous spirit, especially after his years of campaigning. Having seen Spain and Portugal, he now longed to see more of the world. Wellington’s request that Brett accompany him to Paris as his aide, while it did not necessarily offer the same sort of adventure or intensity of purpose that championing a cause in battle did, had at least allowed Brett to postpone his return to England and the mediocrity of everyday existence.

Now it appeared that there was still work to be done. If Castlereagh was right, there were still those who sought to fill the void left by Napoleon, nations whose territorial ambitions were not yet completely clear, but who posed just as much a threat to the freedom of Europe’s inhabitants and England’s peace and prosperity as the French had. Keeping these territorial ambitions at bay might not require quite the same sort of physically heroic resistance as fighting the French, but it was just as critical to the future of Europe, and Brett resolved to do his part with the same determination and skill that had won him Wellington’s attention in the first place.

Recalling Castlereagh’s warning, he scanned the crowd around him as he strode along, but since he had not the slightest notion of those who had been present outside the British delegation when he had originally left it, he had no way of knowing if any of the individuals surrounding him now had trailed him. From now on he resolved to be more alert. Aside from Castlereagh’s verbal admonition, Brett knew that the foreign secretary and others at the British delegation took the threat of foreign agents very seriously indeed—so seriously that Brett, along with everyone else, had been ordered to bum the contents of their wastepaper baskets every evening so that no chambermaid, valet, or anyone else could retrieve the scraps and hand them over to Hager’s
Polizei.