The Blue Diamond (16 page)

“Who was this friend?”

“You would not know him. His name is Alphonse Belanger. He is in the employ of Baron Hager, the head of police. Every second footboy and clerk is acting as a spy, at this time. Alphonse was at Talleyrand’s palais, working in the kitchen. He was enlisted by Hager to discover what he could—he is paid for every rumor he carried, or invented. Talleyrand was not long in discovering it, and fired him. He went to Hager to seek work with him in some other capacity. He is used to follow people Hager suspects of something or other—insignificant work really. He was following Eynard that day—he didn’t tell me why, but he saw the whole thing, the murder. It was he who called Hager, and immediately afterwards, he told me, for he knew I had had dealings with Eynard. I knew Alphonse long ago, in France, and met him again in Vienna. He used to work at Army headquarters, where my Papa was stationed. He told me of the murder as a posthumous act of friendship to my father. Everyone loved Papa—he was so kind, so loyal and generous.” She stopped suddenly and drew a long sigh. Her eyes were not moist, but they were sad. “There is no mystery in the story. It is exactly as I tell you,” she finished simply.

“I see,” Maria answered, finding the story to have that implausible air that might well be true. Certainly people of all nationalities worked for Hager. And if this Alphonse person had known the army life, it was more than likely he still devoted himself to the Napoleonic cause, and it was by this means he came into contact with Miss Feydeau. Her curiosity satisfied, she arose to leave.

“I wish you would come back and visit me from time to time. The days are tedious here, alone.”

“I’ll come—tomorrow if I can.”

“You are very kind. The only friend I have in Vienna,” Miss Feydeau answered, trying to strike a smile, but she looked very sad, almost pitiful, with her slight shoulders sagging. Really it was too bad of Papa to speak harshly of her.

Maria dined with her Aunt Hermione, the two of them alone, wondering the whole time what Peter was involved in. “Did he object to your coming here to dine with me?” the aunt asked. She was got up in a gown of rainbow hues, and wearing with it a rope of pearls nearly to her hips that were worth a fortune, and looked frightful, even cheap. It was an unstated complaint of Kruger that Hermione could make a hundred thousand pounds of gems look cheap.

“I left before he came home. He is out of the house most of the time, Auntie. I wonder what he is doing.”

“He has certainly got a new
chère amie
. Rosetta von Rasbach, would it be I wonder? She is between beaux, and her
mari
is abed with influenza, so she is not amusing herself with him.”

Who Kruger spent his afternoon with was not known, but he entered the Prussian party with Chabon. When he took a step towards the Countess and his daughter, Hermione turned abruptly away and hailed up Moncrief as he passed, kindly handing Maria over to him before the other gentlemen reached her.

Maria’s thoughts were so full of the mystery that she no longer thought of beaux, was even coming to forget Anton. When Moncrief smiled at her, she saw not a possible suitor, but a potential source of information about the mystery. It was he who had first raised a question about the business of Cécile's having the ruby. Her inclination was to believe Mademoiselle Feydeau. To discover whether an outsider shared the girl’s poor opinion of Talleyrand, she decided to see what she could discover from Moncrief. But of course some courteous banalities must be exchanged first.

“I have been meaning to call,” Moncrief said.

“You must do that soon. You have been neglecting us lately.”

“Has your father carved that beautiful piece of lavender jade he bought a short while ago?”

“No, it takes ages. He was designing a subject—a bowl of some sort I believe, but it progresses slowly. He is very busy lately.”

“The Congress makes slaves of us all. And what has Miss Kruger been filling her days with?”

“Social frivolity. Not a good word to be said on my own behalf, Sir. We are quite spoiled with so much gaiety. But at least we have a chance to practice up our languages.”

“Quite so. We shall be as well spoken as the French king of yore before it is over—able to speak Spanish to God, Italian to women, French to men, and German to our horses. Oh dear—an undiplomatic remark to make to a German lady, but I lay it in France’s dish.”

“I assure you Germany is honored, Sir. We know well enough an Englishman’s horse rates higher with him than any lady, and are privileged he reserves our language for that of which he has the highest opinion. The French king, you will notice, did not find English fit to speak to man or beast. I daresay he kept it for rebuking inanimate objects, which could not object to such harsh utterances.”

“And here you speak it to me. Very well, too, I might add.”

“I shall be happy to switch to French if you prefer, but pray do not reply in Italian. It is one tongue that is quite unknown to me, yet I like the sound of it better than any of the other languages we hear. So mellifluous it is.” Eager to get on with her real interest, she soon was using Talleyrand’s presence as an excuse to ask Moncrief, “Do you suppose he is half as sly a rogue as everyone says?”

“The slyest man at the Congress, if you want my secret opinion, definitely not to be repeated, especially within Castlereagh’s hearing. He would like to believe himself the slyest of the pack, you know, but he don’t hold a candle to Talleyrand. He makes monkeys of them all. Not that they need a deal of help.”

“You are hard on them. About Talleyrand, he has a poor reputation then, amongst the delegates?”

“Oh no, I did not say that, or mean to imply it. Not at all.”

“But his checkered career—belonging to every party for a day—you cannot think him a man of high principles? He always looks out for himself. Self-interest is what motivates him, don’t you think?”

“Not in the least. What motivates him at this time is a desire for peace, with of course France being returned to all her former glory. His theory of legitimacy is a sound one. We cannot hope to maintain peace with such artificial boundaries as are discussed. Rivers, mountains, the language spoken, religion and history must be taken into account. He seems more aware of that than the others. Europe is not a cake, to be cut up, and let the crumbs fall where they may.”

“I expect it is his own reputation he looks to bedizen with this theory you speak of.”

"It is popular to call him an opportunist; he is a good deal more than that. An outright opportunist would have taken better advantage of the many opportunities he has had. He was made a bishop, and handed the crown back to the church. He made an injudicious marriage, and at the worst possible time for himself. He always rises to the top of every system that comes along, as cream will do, but once there, he spikes his own gun in some manner, and not through carelessness, certainly not through stupidity. He does it on purpose, willfully. He would like to be an opportunist, I think, but his principles keep getting in the way. A thoroughly fascinating gentleman.”

“You don’t think he would—you know—steal, or do . . ."

A bark of laughter was the response to this disjointed speech. "
Steal—Talleyrand
? Good God no! Steal a crown for someone perhaps. Not money, if that is what you mean. He does not deal in such vulgar commodities.”

“Oh,” she said, and was unaccountably dashed to hear it. Her own comprehension of politics and the great men of the day was not deep. She knew Tsar Alexander to be a rake, and was well aware of the gossip surrounding them all, but a real assessment of their characters had not previously come her way. Looking at Moncrief, then across the room to where Talleyrand, kept from dancing by his being crippled, sat surrounded by sycophants, she could see no reason for an Englishman to praise a Frenchman unless he meant it. She knew Moncrief was spoken of as being a man of good judgment, so there was no reason to think him mistaken.

“It cannot be your new friend Chabon who gives you so poor a reading of Talleyrand’s character,” he said.

“No, Chabon speaks no ill of him, certainly. How should he, when Talleyrand is his patron?”

“Who then? I come to fear you have fallen amongst Prussians.”

“Or Bonapartists,” she added, smiling.

“They are pretty scarce animals, since Boney is caged.”

“Yes, as scarce as Bourbon supporters before he was sent into exile.”

“Fräulein Kruger,” he said, adopting a tone of mock severity, “is this curst Congress turning you into a cynic?”

“No, but it is opening my eyes to a few things,” she admitted wearily.

They chatted on till the dance ended, then Maria was claimed by another partner, and Moncrief walked around to see what foolishness the Palgraves were up to. Across the room, he glanced again at Maria. She was not her usual arrogant, saucy self this evening. Something troubled her. There were also a great many things troubling Moncrief. Castlereagh’s wish that he seize the crown jewels of France had proved impossible of carrying out. It was not possible to steal something you could not find, and his best efforts had not turned up the cache.

Mademoiselle Feydeau had been followed faithfully on those few occasions when she had left her apartment. Her destinations had proven such innocent haunts as walks, a little shopping, and visits to churches. Her apartment was never left empty. She and her dragon did not go out together. Wragge had attempted to gain entry under cover of darkness one evening through a window, and made such a mess of it that this means was forgotten. Harvey called on her occasionally—not often enough to prove a lover, and not seldom enough to indicate a loss of interest in buying the diamond. It had been determined that she had some connections with the little band of Bonapartist supporters who were watched vigilantly, though she was by no means one of the more active members.

As the year drew to an end, there was a spate of parties to honor the festive occasion. Moncrief observed the increasing intimacy between Chabon and Kruger, and wondered that an impecunious Frenchman was being encouraged to dangle after Kruger’s daughter. He knew, of course, of Eynard’s death, and he had heard a few discreet rumors of Maria’s involvement with the Countess Poronovitch’s diamonds. The time seemed judicious to rekindle the friendship with the Krugers, but politics were heating up at this time, and he was much involved with the details of the new treaty being constructed between England, Austria and France, who were becoming nervous at the aggressive stance of Prussia.

The last day of 1814 saw a minor tragedy: Count Razumowsky’s palace, one of the most opulent in the city, burned to the ground. It was not long mourned at Minoritenplatz. On January 1, 1815, word was received that the war with America was ended, giving England greater latitude. Throughout January there were many meetings to consider England’s changed position. The affair of the blue diamond faded into the background, nearly forgotten.

Chapter Fifteen

“The news has finally come,” Castlereagh said, waving a letter under Moncrief’s nose. His listener sat tense, waiting to hear whether they discussed war, a settlement of the boundaries, the escape of Napoleon or some less important matter.

“I am to return to England. Wellington is on his way here to replace me. I shan’t be sorry to get home, I can tell you. I have had enough of this business—more than enough—to satisfy me; You will report directly to the Duke. I shall brief him before I leave, of course, but I want you to give him all the help possible. You will let him know from day to day who is not speaking to whom, and so on. He comes at a poor time.”

“How is that?” Moncrief said.

“Why, with Lent about to begin, the Waltzing Duke will not be so lavishly entertained as we are accustomed to. But then he does not come to dance, but to work.”

“The parties are getting out of hand—it’s time to let up on them. Metternich’s sleighing party was a joke in poor taste. Velvet upholstery and gold fringes and gold sphinxes and ostrich plumes—it was more like Astley’s Circus than anything else.”

“We have overstayed our welcome, certainly, in the view of the common people here.”

“Having their wages taxed to the tune of fifty percent to pay for it all was bound to have that effect. When do you leave, Sir?”

“I’ll stick around ten days or so to break Wellington in. I mentioned that blue diamond to him in my last dispatch, and he is concerned about it. Whatever else you do, Moncrief, for God’s sake don’t let it be sold to foot the bill for Boney’s return. You had no luck in getting hold of it?”

“None—I am still working on it.”

“Good,” Castlereagh said, but Moncrief knew as surely as he sat there that his new boss would not be so easily put off. The Iron Duke was not one to waste time. He would expect results.

“Oh, by the way,” Castlereagh went on, “I have got that report on Chabon. Little is known of him. He appears to have popped up from nowhere to accompany Talleyrand to the Congress. They say he was included because he speaks half a dozen languages, and had an aunt who knew a prince, and so on."

“No family history of dealing in gems?”

“No family history at all so far as Hager could discover. A bit of a playboy, companion to actresses, sometime gigolo. That sort of thing.”

“Pretty high company he is keeping—the Krugers. I wonder the old boy tolerates his dangling after his daughter.”

“Oh as to Kruger, he hasn’t two pence to rub together either. Von Rossner has no use for Chabon. It would not surprise me much if Kruger were running some rig in tandem with Chabon. It was before your time, Moncrief, but I was discussing Kruger with Clancarty the other evening, and he mentioned an affair that had quite slipped my mind. Some years back, Kruger palmed a forged painting off on Lord North. Called it a Rembrandt. It was discovered, and he made up some plausible story to account for it, but that sort of thing, you know . . ."

“Yes, I have heard the story.”

“There must be some reason why Rechberg dropped the girl like a hot potato, too, don’t you think?”