Susan Johnson (25 page)

“If she’s safely away, you won’t have to worry or wonder if she’s adequately protected or—”

“Jeopardize my men by my actions,” Duras said with
a sigh. “Thank you, Henri,” he quietly added, turning around, “for reminding me.”

“Her presence is making the campaign more difficult for you,” Bonnay graciously said.

“At a time when all my attentions should be focused on the campaign. I’ll send her back—tomorrow,” Duras finished with a small smile.

“She and the baby will be less vulnerable, sir.”

“Yes, much safer,” Duras murmured as if he needed to say the words to convince himself. “How many children do you have, Henri?” Duras had never paid more than the most superficial attention to his subordinates’ families.

“Four, sir.”

“All healthy?”

“Thankfully, yes.” It was a time when childhood diseases seriously threatened young lives.

“Jesus,” Duras softly exclaimed. “I worry endlessly about Teo, about the delivery—how she’ll contend with it alone, how I should be with her. And then I worry about the child after it’s born. Will it be healthy? Will I live to see it? I never worried before about anything.”

“As long as all the campaign details were to your liking,” Bonnay said, smiling faintly.

“Don’t remind me of the present incompetencies. Those aside, Henri,” he went on with a moody grimace, “Teo has drastically changed my priorities.”

“Unfortunately Suvorov keeps winning in Italy.” The French were defeated at Cassano on April 28, again at Trebbia on June 17.

“If Joubert can’t hold him in Liguria, soon we’ll be facing the generalissimo.”

“But first the archduke.”

Duras smiled grimly. “It’s time she left.”

But when he told Teo the next day, she shouted “No!” and slapped him viciously. He stood motionless as she pummeled
him, shouting, “No, no … no,” screaming and crying, maddened, distraught, until she finally collapsed sobbing in his arms.

His eyes were wet for a brief moment as desolation swept over him. But he swallowed hard and holding her close said, “I’ll come for you in a few weeks.”

“You lie.” Her voice was muffled against his chest.

Sadly he was; Suvorov wouldn’t reach Switzerland before late September at the very earliest. “It won’t be for long,” he soothed, lifting her in his arms and carrying her to the single chair Cholet had scavenged for their rough parlor. Sitting down, he held her tightly, not sure himself how he’d face the coming weeks without her. “I thought you could go to Paris and wait for me. Mingen will escort you.”

“I won’t go.”

“Our offensive begins in two days,” he quietly said. “You have to think of the baby and I have to know you’re not in danger.”

“I’ll stay with the women and children behind the lines. Mingen can stay with me, Tamyr—”

“No,” he harshly said, lifting her away so she had to look at him, so she could see the determination in his eyes. “How the hell can I run this campaign if I’m wondering if some Austrian corps has overrun the women’s camp? How can I even think straight if I know you and my child are hungry and cold and God knows where in this bloodbath? No,” he said in a rough whisper, “you cannot stay.”

“Tell me how long I have to be away?” she fearfully whispered, her life, her happiness linked to him.

“God, Teo, I don’t know,” he raggedly said, drawing her back into his arms. “Two months, three—Christ, I’ve been here since January and the Austrians keep building up their armies. Mingen will take you to a small house I have in the country near Paris. You and the baby will be safe.”

“I might never see you again.”

“
Yes
 … you will.”

“Let me stay a few more days. I could move to Bremgarten; that would be secure. Or why not Basel?” she said, looking up at him. “It’s completely safe there and not as far as Paris.”

He shook his head. “If we can’t hold against the archduke, his army could be in Basel in a day.” If they couldn’t hold, all of France would be threatened. “Paris offers the most security.”

“Tell me when I’ll see you again. Lie to me.”

“Certainly by Christmas. The armies will be in winter quarters.”

“I’ll have the baby by then.”

“You must do everything Mingen says,” he anxiously said, tracing the downy curve of her brow. “I worry.”

“Between Tamyr and Mingen,” Teo replied, her gaze mischievous for a moment, “I’m not sure I’m needed.”

He smiled. “Have Mingen telegraph me with the news.”
¹⁵

“You must stay safe for us,” she whispered.

His eyes were grave. “Tell my child about me.”

“Don’t say that.” Fear trembled in her voice.

“This may be the last time I see you,” he murmured, “and I don’t want to leave you without telling you how much I love you. And how much happiness you’ve brought me.” He lightly touched her chin, cupped it in the curve of his fingers. “Tell our child I wanted very much to be there,” he said, “and I’ll always be watching over you.”

“I’ll die without you,” she breathed, heart-stricken.

“No,” he whispered. “If I don’t come back, live for us both instead.”

“You’ll be home for Christmas, I know it, and then we’ll be together again.” How could she say good-bye to him as if they’d never meet again when she couldn’t even survive the thought?

“And we’ll grow old together,” he said, wanting the dream as much as she.

“You said something about a dozen children once,” she whispered.

“I remember,” he quietly said. “I’d never felt that way before.”

“Nor had I. My happiness began that night.”

“With luck,” he said, “I’ll make you happy again.”

They made love that night with all their senses opened wide, their consciousness acute, exceptional. They could feel each other breathe, their hearts beat in time, their skin, their flesh meld into one flesh. And they loved each other wildly, desperately … sorrowfully, both feeling the same long, sad pain.

Their life together would be broken now.

When at last they fell asleep, he held her close to him, his arms locked around her in a viselike grip, not wanting to let her go.

But her carriage was ready very early as ordered. Mingen and Tamyr waited beside it; Bonnay and Cholet, Vigée and his troopers, were there as well to say adieu. There was no more time for private good-byes. Her mind gripped with a single thought—she was losing Duras forever—she walked with Duras into the small yard outside the cottage. Bonnay and Cholet wished her Godspeed and sent messages with her to their families. Vigée handed her a small bouquet of field flowers and said with a grin, “If you see Madame Vigée tell her I’ll need my quarterly payment early.”

She smiled; it took all her strength.

The troopers who’d attended her school had written her a note expressing their good wishes, each signing his name.

She shook each one’s hand, wondering if she would die of pain.

“The men love her as much as Duras,” Cholet murmured to Bonnay.

“They all volunteered to escort her to the border,” Bonnay said in an undertone, “even knowing they’ll go sleepless. They must be back by tomorrow night for the attack.”

Duras was handing Teo into the carriage and when she was seated he quietly said, “I’ll love you always, no matter where I am.” Setting a booted foot on the step, he leaned in and kissed her one last time.

“Come back to me,” Teo whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

He nodded, not wishing to lie, the truth unpalatable. He touched her fingers, then touched his heart and softly said, “Take care of our child.”

Moving into the carriage, Tamyr took Teo into her arms and held her close, talking to her in her native tongue, soothing her.

“She’s more precious than life to me,” Duras quietly said to Mingen before he entered the carriage. “Make sure you have the best assistance for the delivery. Telegraph me if you have questions about anything at all to do with Teo’s comfort. If I’m not within reach you have the letters to my lawyers and bankers. I’ve sent them instructions as well. And thank you,” he said. “You need only name your price and my bankers will comply.”

“You in turn must try to survive,” Mingen said. “I’m quite determined you do.”

“Not as determined as I,” Duras murmured.

“Charlie has no bottom, you know that. He lives in fear of his brother, the emperor.”

“Bottom or not, he outnumbers us substantially. So we’ll just have to be more clever.”

“Not too difficult with a Habsburg.”

Duras made an attempt to smile. “I keep telling my staff that. Go now. It breaks my heart to see her cry. And take care of my child.”

“It’s been a pleasure knowing you, Duras.”

“You might consider a less dangerous line of work once this war is over.”

“Are you offering me a permanent position?”

“If my life happens to allow permanence, I am indeed.”

“I’ll see you at Christmas, then.”

“With luck,” Duras said.

While Duras was consolidating his position by undertaking an offensive to recapture the St. Gotthard Pass, rendering his right flank more secure, Austria decided to violate the Coalition’s strategic plan for the invasion of France. That gave Duras his long-sought opportunity to launch an effective counterblow.

In mid-August the entire Russian corps, thirty thousand strong under Korsakov, had arrived at Zurich to reinforce the archduke. The original plan was for Suvorov, after defeating the French in Italy, to lead his Russian corps into Switzerland. His troops would join Korsakov near Zurich to form a single Russian army. This force plus Condé’s émigrés, a total of some sixty thousand men, would move west, turn the Rhine barrier and then drive across the unfortified Franco-Swiss frontier. At the same time, the
Austrian troops in Switzerland were to move into southern Germany and from there cover Korsakov’s right flank.

The presence of the Austrian army on Korsakov’s right flank was essential to the success of the Allied strategy. It was especially vital that the archduke protect Korsakov while Suvorov was in transit between Italy and Switzerland, because during this period the French would outnumber the Russians at Zurich and only the presence of the Austrian army in close support of Korsakov could prevent Duras from attacking.

The Austrian chancellor, Thugut, however, was devising a diplomatic scheme that would expand the Habsburg domains, a coup that would betray both his English and Russian allies. Determined to gain control of the Low Countries and northern Italy without having to agree to any limitation of Austrian authority in either area, he was planning on sending the archduke’s army through Germany into Holland.

On August 14 the French pushed the Austrians out of Grimsel, one of the key towns guarding the St. Gotthard Pass. By August 18, despite the heavy resistance of eight Austrian battalions commanded by General von Hotze, the French had retaken the whole of the St. Gotthard Pass while other units moved on Glaris.

To counter the French successes in the south, the archduke decided to attack their positions along the Aar River. The Austrian engineers, however, failed to examine the ground carefully, and when they tried to throw a bridge across the Aar on the night of August 16, they discovered that their bridging material was insufficient. Duras rushed two companies of Zurich riflemen to the scene and the snipers rapidly picked off the Austrian sappers who were still trying to complete the bridge on the morning of August 17. At mid-morning French light artillery batteries arrived and opened fire, making the
Austrians’ task completely hopeless, and soon after Duras agreed to a cease-fire to allow the Austrians to withdraw their pontoons.

The next day the archduke, despite weeks of protest, was ordered to take the imperial army into Germany. He left two Austrian corps, those of von Hotze and Jellachich, totaling about forty thousand men, to support Korsakov.

Duras’s position was vastly improved.

Which was fortunate because on the other fronts the situation was disastrous, the defeats in Italy causing ever-increasing alarm in Paris.

That alarm was evidenced in the immediate excursions made by several politicians of note to the small country house Teo occupied. Her first caller appeared the morning after she’d arrived. Tamyr was still unpacking in the bedroom, Mingen had ridden into the city to present Duras’s letters to his bankers and lawyers, and Teo was strolling in the lush summer garden that bordered the Seine.

A tall, dark, imposing man was walking toward her down the slope of green lawn, a servant following him in some haste from the house.

“Forgive my intrusion, Countess,” he politely said, bowing gracefully. “I’m Paul Barras and I’d like to welcome you to Paris.” The servant had reached them as Barras finished speaking and began stammering an explanation. “I’m sure the countess won’t blame you,” he said with a smile, waving him away. Turning back to Teo, who decided the ex-Vicomte de Barras was as bold as Andre had warned, he went on, his smile meant to charm. “I also wanted to offer my assistance as you settle into your new home.”

“Thank you, Citizen Barras,” Teo politely said, “but I’m intent on a quiet, secluded life while I’m here.”

“I understand completely.” His gaze took in her slender figure. Her pregnancy was not obvious under the
high-waisted gown, although he was aware of it. His intelligence service was excellent. “But if you should like to socialize occasionally in some of the quieter circles of society, please don’t hesitate to call on me. In fact we’re having a small dinner party tomorrow night if you’d care to join us.”

Teo noted his raking glance and realized her coming child was no secret. “The journey has left me fatigued, but thank you for asking.”

Duras’s newest concubine had a cool composure, Barras noted, and no yearning to storm society. Unlike the last Russian countess Duras had shed, who was now enjoying the favors of the wealthy navy contractor Simon, and participating in all the soirees of note. “Perhaps later, then. You may know some of our acquaintances already. Madame de Staël spent some time in Petersburg and you must know the Countess Gonchanka,” he softly said, his gaze speculative.

“I only know
of
her,” Teo replied. “We never met in Petersburg.”