Susan Johnson (26 page)

Her poise was remarkable, Barras thought. Natalie’s stories of finding her in Duras’s bedroom, which had become common currency in Paris salons, were true after all. “She knew the general too, I understand,” he smoothly said, as though they were discussing mutual acquaintances.

“He never mentioned her.” Teo’s green eyes were direct, open.

And very beautiful. Barras wondered if Duras was discarding this woman like Natalie and all the rest. If so, there might be reasons beyond Duras’s consequence to court her favor. Barras collected women, the list of his mistresses lengthy. Thérése Tallien, currently his official hostess at the Luxembourg, was pregnant like the countess. “Will Duras be joining you in the near future?” A new element of charm infused his voice. It was the question everyone wished to know.

“He didn’t think it likely with the Austrians intent on invading France.”

“France is most fortunate to have his talents,” Barras unctuously declared. “He’s our most stalwart defender.”

“The only one at the moment,” Teo dryly remarked. “Italy is lost, I understand.”

“A terrible disaster; young Joubert dead, his wife inconsolable … I presume Duras sent you back to safety. Will the commander be taking the offensive soon?”

“I’m sorry, Citizen Director, the general never confided in me on military matters.”

“Of course,” he smoothly said, his smile ingratiating. He had a distinct feeling she knew very much what went on at headquarters. “Duras is most fortunate in your companionship. His marriage was never amiable.” He paused for a moment as if in deliberation and then feigning concern said, “A word of warning, my dear, about Andre’s wife. She’s likely to upbraid you should you meet. Claudine’s a ruthless woman, completely without scruple.” He smiled faintly. “Like her uncle, I’m afraid. You should be aware of her capacity for treachery.”

“We’re not likely to meet. I prefer the country.”

“And you won’t be entertaining?”

“Not at all.”

“A shame, my dear, with so many people eager to meet you, but then you must consider your health.”

“My health is excellent.”

“I only meant,” Barras suavely countered, “how much more salubrious the country air. The city can be fatiguing. If the responsibilities of office weren’t so demanding I should choose to live in blissful isolation like this myself. Duras has a pleasant home here.”

“Unfortunately he can seldom enjoy it.”

“Perhaps very soon he may.”

“You’re very optimistic, Citizen. The imperial army he faces is sizable, had you not heard?”

“Duras is less optimistic, then?” he inquired, prying.

“He’s realistic—a factor in his successes despite his detractors who carp at him from the safety of Paris.”

“You defend the general with spirit, madame.”

“Anyone acquainted with his talent and experience does, sir.”

How beautiful she was championing her lover, Barras thought, her cheeks slightly pinked, her breathing faintly agitated so her plump breasts rose and fell beneath the white muslin of her gown, her exotic Tatar eyes bright with earnestness. “You should beard his detractors with such conviction, madame. They would all be converted. I understand your husband opposes Duras at Zurich,” he blandly added, watching her closely.

“I see my maid signaling me from the window. Good afternoon, Citizen,” Teo blandly said. “I’m sure you can find your way out.”

Glancing at the windows facing the garden, Barras saw no sign of activity. “May I escort you to the house?”

“No, thank you.” Her smile was polite. “You have a long drive back to the city. If you’ll excuse me.” And leaving him in a flurry of white muslin and scent, she walked away.

Barras watched her ascend the slight incline and disappear through a garden door. Did she indeed have Duras’s ear? he wondered, contemplating the usefulness of Duras’s latest mistress. Was she cognizant of the general’s plans? Did she know if Duras knew of the conspiracy to topple the Directory? Was she dangerous or merely pretty? He’d have to send Thérése to visit her; perhaps his mistress could insinuate herself into the countess’s confidence.

That summer with the military reverses in Italy, the neo-Jacobins were thundering against the “traitors in government responsible for our defeats.” Disgust with the
present regime and with the eight-year-old war was strong enough that most of the French people were ripe for counterrevolutionaries. In the opinion of many, France was ripe for a dictatorship.

Sieyés, Barras, Talleyrand, and Fouché had been plotting in the small house Talleyrand shared with his current mistress, Madame Grand. By August, the final touches for the
coup d’état
were in place. Everything was settled except for the choice of general. The matter was vital for the army would be the arbiter of the coup’s success. Thus they needed a general who could control the army, and who better than Duras with his reputation for victory. It was essential to know whether Duras was interested in joining their cause.

When Mingen returned from the city, Teo told him of Barras’s visit. “He just appeared in the garden,” she said, setting her pen aside, the letter she was writing to Duras on the desk before her.

“Barras isn’t the type of man to be put off by a servant,” Mingen replied, dropping several small parcels on the settee. “He’s without fear—which accounts for his surviving the Revolution despite his noble birth. He probably wanted to be the first to see you. Society thrives on gossip.”

“I’m not interested in society. I told him as much.”

“That may curtail further visits.” But Mingen’s contacts in the city had informed him of the conspiracy about to blossom into fruition and he rather doubted Barras had driven an hour from Paris simply to look at Duras’s mistress. There was no point in alarming her with rumors, however. “Andre wanted me to give you these,” he went on, sorting through the parcels until he found the two he wished. Setting them on the desk, he added, “I had to fetch them in the city.”

“You know what these are?”

He nodded. “Would you like privacy?”

“No, stay. I need company to allay my fears. Barras has a sinister air; he unnerved me.” She began untying the red ribbon holding the leather packet together.

“No one will dare touch you,” Mingen said, sitting down across from her. “Duras’s reputation is adequate protection.”

“What is this?” Teo said, unfolding the sheaf of papers.

“The deed to this property, and barring another reign of terror, it should remain legal. It’s in your name.”

“Is Andre leaving me?” Lavish gifts were often a means to dispose of a mistress.

Mingen shook his head. “It’s for you and the child if he … doesn’t return,” he softly finished.

“You shouldn’t have given it to me now,” she whispered, her eyes bright with tears. “I don’t want to think about that.”

“He wanted you to feel secure regardless of what the future holds. It’s only a precaution,” he quietly went on. “The other papers are the bank accounts in your name.”

Teo refolded the sheets and slipped them back into the leather envelope, sniffing, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand.

Scrupulous in his friendship to Duras, Mingen offered only his handkerchief, not the comfort she needed. But it tugged at his heart to see her pain. “Open the other one,” he said, pushing the small parcel toward her. “This won’t make you cry.”

“Actually I cry all the time these days,” Teo said with a tentative smile, pulling the silver bow open. “Tamyr tells me it’s natural with pregnancy.” A small box of celadon leather lay inside the silver tissue and when she opened the lid a glittering diamond ring sparkled in the sunlight.

“There’s an inscription,” Mingen prompted.

Lifting the ring out, she turned the wide band of diamonds in her fingers until the engraved words were visible.
“Together always” it read beneath their entwined initials. “See, I’m crying again,” Teo whispered, touching the delicate script, feeling as though she were touching Duras across the miles.

“I’m to tell you it’s a wedding ring.”

Her gaze came up.

“His lawyers are beginning the preliminaries for his divorce. I carried instructions to them this morning.”

She slipped the ring on her fourth finger. “It’s perfect,” she murmured.

“He measured your finger one night while you slept and shipped the knotted string to Paris.”

She smiled. “I’d only be happier if he were here beside me.”

“There, I knew you’d smile.”

“Does he have a chance?” she softly asked.

“I spoke to some friends of mine this morning and news from Vienna is heartening. Thugut has won this round—the archduke has been ordered into Germany. The emperor is furious with him for defying his orders in June. This is all petty court bickering but extremely helpful to Duras.”
¹⁶

“
All
of the archduke’s army is moving into Germany?”

“No one knows yet, but any withdrawal of troops will be advantageous to the French.”

“So Andre might be home for Christmas.”

“There’s a chance.” There was also a chance he would be offered a post in the new Directory being plotted at Talleyrand’s house, a post that might preclude a bigamous new wife. Who could forget that Korsakov was still very much alive? But Mingen didn’t mention that; no point in dashing her good spirits when the position was still moot.

“I’m going to pray very hard for that eventuality,” Teo said. “And thank you, Anton, for such pleasant news. If I finish this letter to Andre now, will it still go out tonight?”

“I’ll have it brought into the city and sent out with the military courier.”

“He’s wonderful, isn’t he?” Teo blissfully said, her melancholy vanished.

“He is indeed,” Mingen agreed.

Talleyrand, notorious for his corrupt financial transactions, was having lunch with Jérôme Gothier, one of his bankers, in a busy café of the Palais Royal. The exchange of information on army contracts and government bills had been satisfactorily concluded and the men were enjoying the view from the windows. The Rue de Rivoli, a fashionable promenade for demireps and actresses, was awash with a continual parade of beautiful young women. At the sight of a splendid blonde with a spectacular bosom, Talleyrand said, “She has a remarkable resemblance to Claudine.”

Mention of Claudine jogged Gothier’s memory for a very new bit of gossip. “Did you hear Duras has given instructions to begin divorce preliminaries?”

Talleyrand sat up straighter, his gaze no longer on the ladies walking by. “Are you sure?”

“Genlis, Duras’s lawyer, was apparently given written orders this morning.”

“Duras’s latest paramour is at his country retreat, Barras tells me. He was on his way out there when I saw him.”

“She’s Korsakov’s wife, I hear. A cozy, incestuous attachment,” Gothier ironically remarked.

“Duras has a penchant for excitement,” Talleyrand blandly noted. “But divorce? I can’t believe he’s serious about the woman.”

Gothier shrugged. “Perhaps or perhaps he doesn’t care to share his wife with you.” The portly man’s brows rose in amused speculation.

“Claudine’s amorous activities have never concerned him in the past. They have a civilized marriage—or had,” Talleyrand added, his eyes narrowed in contemplation. “Perhaps Claudine and I should look into this.” As one of the conspirators, Talleyrand was aware of Duras’s possible role in the coup. “Although I find it startling he’d take such a drastic step after all these years.”

“Perhaps he’s in love,” Gothier said with a smirk.

“Duras may make love but he doesn’t
fall
in love.”

“It happens,” Gothier noted, a nuance of smugness in his tone. “Look at Meudon. At seventy he has two young children and dotes on his wife.”

“Meudon’s senile,” Talleyrand rebuked. “Duras is far from that.” But it was worrisome at this late stage of the coup. He needed Claudine’s husband; he needed the family relationship intact. There was no one else trustworthy.

“Did I mention Duras deeded the house to the Russian woman?” Gothier added with a smile.

Talleyrand’s mouth formed into a grim line for a moment and then he casually leaned back in his chair and smiled across the table at his colleague in corruption. “If you don’t have better news for me soon, Gothier, I’ll have to withdraw my government contracts.”

“I thought you’d like to know, Charles—useful information, as it were,” Gothier serenely replied. “And no one else will give you a twenty-percent commission for those contracts and we both know it,” he added, unintimidated.

“It’s damnable news at this particular moment, that’s all,” Talleyrand grumbled.

“Because of the Austrian advance?” Gothier smoothly inquired.

Did he know something? Talleyrand wondered, suspicious of Gothier’s almost palpable smugness. “Yes, of course, because of the advance. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Talleyrand cordially said, rising, “I’ve an appointment of some importance.”

Gothier watched Talleyrand limp away, surmising his important appointment might be with Duras’s sumptuous wife. He wouldn’t mind having such a voluptuous
and
amenable niece. Did she call him uncle or Charles, he wondered, when she fucked him?

Claudine didn’t believe Talleyrand at first.

“I made inquiries and it’s true,” Talleyrand bluntly said, sitting down to rest his crippled foot. “The question is what are we going to do about it?”

“Kill the bitch,” Claudine snapped, standing stock-still in the middle of her drawing room, her eyes blazing.

“Something less incriminating, my dear,” Talleyrand sardonically said. “Perhaps we could have her imprisoned as an enemy in wartime. God knows, the Austrians have had Lafayette languishing in prison in Austria for years.”

“Perfect.” Her sudden smile held a high degree of malice.

“Except Duras would kill us,” he murmured.

“Have her disappear, then,” Claudine callously said. “Anyone could have taken her.”

“Rumor has it an attempt was already made. Duras left
his army waiting and went to find her. I wouldn’t care to have him on my trail.”

“Maybe Andre will die in battle,” she ungenerously suggested.