Valentina (7 page)

Everyone took their leave within a few minutes, and without waiting to see her husband, Valentina ran up the stairs to her own rooms. Jana was waiting for her.

‘Let me get you something warm to drink, Madame,' she said. ‘You look so tired; thank God the guests left early.' She began laying out her mistress's nightgown and robe, murmuring to herself. In her opinion the Countess was not fit to give a dinner party and force herself to eat and drink and entertain. After her frightful ordeal of the day before she should have been in bed.

‘I'm going out,' Valentina said. She went to the dressing table and sat down; she looked at her own reflection, and on an impulse wiped off the rouge. It made her look harsh and artificial even in the flattering candlelight.

‘Out? But, Madame, you can't! You must rest!'

‘It's a royal command. Or semi-royal, if you count Naples as a kingdom. I am having supper with Marshal Murat. You don't know who he is, do you Jana? No, I know you don't. He's a great man, he's a very important soldier and he's married to the Emperor Napoleon's sister. He sent me those white roses this morning.

Jana didn't answer immediately. She was no simpleton, and she understood the significance of supper invitations to ladies unaccompanied by their husbands. And it was obvious that the gentleman who sent her mistress flowers was unlikely to include the Count.

‘Do you like him, Madame? Is he a handsome man?'

‘Very,' Valentina said wearily. ‘I only hope he's understanding too. But I doubt it. Get me my blue velvet dress, Jana—with the Mechlin lace fichu. I must change out of this; I hate myself in it.'

‘If you don't want to go, Madame,' the maid said, ‘I can say you're unwell, if you want to change your mind. Let me do that. Don't fret yourself; I'll see to it.'

‘You'd see to anything for me, wouldn't you?' Valentina smiled at her. ‘But you can't help me, Jana. Nobody can help me now, except perhaps this man Murat. At least I can appeal to him. He's powerful enough to do anything.'

‘What will you ask him, Madame?' Jana was undoing the fastening at the back of the white dress.

‘To protect me and my sister from the Count,' Valentina said. ‘You think this is a lovers' meeting, don't you, you foolish girl? You think I'm doing this behind my husband's back? It's at his command! I am to be seduced by this French General so that I can get information for my husband and his friends. When I refused last night was the result. He has threatened to harm my sister, and I know he'd keep his word. I was going to run away, Jana. That's what I meant this morning by a plan, by leaving this house for ever. Now there's no time. I thought the rendezvous with Murat would be in a day or two and we'd have a chance to escape to Czartatz and join Alexandra. Together we might have thought of a way to save ourselves. I had no idea I should have to decide as soon as this. But I must, and I've made my choice. I'll go to Murat tonight and throw myself on his mercy. If there's one spark of pity in him, or honour, he'll help me.'

‘And if it's at a price, Madame?' Jana said. She had very little faith in the disinterested actions of any man. She had a peasant's practical assessment of such foibles as virginity and honour; there were too many genuine hazards in the life of a bondwoman, like hunger and beatings or being sold to a new master, or having your children taken from you, to worry about trifles.

‘If it's at a price, I'll pay it,' Valentina said. ‘Hurry, his coach will be here within the hour.'

The wanton dress lay in a heap on the floor; she took off the single diamond on its chain and wound her mother's beautiful pearls round her throat. The dark blue velvet gown was cut high, and her bare shoulders were hidden by the fichu of lace. A long velvet cloak of the same sapphire colour as the dress covered her completely, framing her face in a soft sable collar. She felt exhausted; her limbs ached and her eyes burnt with the tears which were so close to the surface that she feared every word would bring them spilling down. What would he be like, this animalistic, coarse man, who had kissed her in the garden as if she were a tap-room maid? What help and pity could she expect from him, what sympathy, unless she pleased him and satisfied his appetites? And she did not know how to begin. She knew nothing about love; her only feelings had been repulsion and misery, a wretched acceptance of something which brought only pain and humiliation and never manifested itself in any form of tenderness or love. She had hated him when he touched her, hated the roughness and the dominance of the man; it was like being attacked by one of the hefty, hot-smelling peasants who worked on her own estates. And she was going to give herself to him completely, to endure at his hands what she had suffered from her husband, without, she prayed, the perverted quirks which had made their relationship such a nightmare. It was horrible, and for a moment her courage failed her completely; she leant against the bedpost and shivered. But the moment passed. ‘Go, or your sister dies.' Those were Theodore's words and she knew that he meant them. He would have Alexandra killed if she failed to keep that appointment tonight. That much was certain. The unknown lay with Murat and herself, and her capacity to enlist his sympathy when he heard the truth. He might even be truly chivalrous and not ask anything of her in return. It was her only hope.

‘Jana, go down and see if the Marshal's carriage has arrived. It must be time now.'

A few minutes later the maid came back. She nodded, and held the door open for her mistress. ‘It's waiting, Madame. I said you were coming down. And the Count is in the hallway,' she added.

‘Thank you, Jana. Good night. Don't wait up for me. And gather your clothes together. If all goes well I'll send for you.'

‘Good night, Madame. God go with you. I'll be ready.'

Valentina walked down the sweeping staircase; the hall below was lit by candelabra and the bright burning torches in the walls outside the open entrance. Her husband was waiting; he too was dressed for going out. As he heard her step he looked up.

‘Remember,' he said, ‘to pretend to enjoy it. He's a crude fellow, I believe. He may not realise that you're as cold as ice. Tomorrow I want an account of everything he says. You have the whole night to make him talk.'

Valentina walked down the last steps and passed him without a word; she hadn't even turned her head when he spoke. He watched her go out and enter the carriage, helped in by a French army postilion. Two mounted soldiers gave the carriage escort as it moved off.

He called out, and the porter shouted for his own coach to come up. He could report to Potocki that the first and most difficult part of their plan had succeeded.

‘What the devil do you want! I'm busy' De Chavel was not usually so irritable with younger officers, but he was tired and he had a long report to finish for Paris. He had dined alone and retired to his quarters to work; it was nearly midnight when the ensign came in to disturb him. ‘Ah,' De Chavel said, ‘Fonécet—I didn't know it was you. I thought it was some imbecile from headquarters. What can I do for you?' Murat's aide-de-camp bowed. He was used to hard words; Murat sometimes flung his boots at his head if he were feeling temperamental.

‘His Majesty Marshal Murat presents his compliments and asks you to come to his house at once. He says it is important. He said to tell you it concerns his dinner engagement this evening.'

‘Does it, indeed?' The Colonel was already buttoning his uniform coat; he paused to pull on his helmet. ‘I'll come immediately. Have a coach, Fonécet?'

‘No, sir. His Majesty told me to take my horse.'

‘Damn and blast you,' De Chavel said. ‘Go down and tell those fools in the stable to saddle my bay at once.'

‘I've already taken that liberty, sir,' the young man said. De Chavel nodded approvingly.

‘Right enough. I'm ready, come on.'

It was a fine clear night and they cantered the short distance to Murat's private quarters in the centre of Danzig itself. He had been allotted a very fine town house where he and his personal staff were quartered. It was the joke of the Imperial Army that one room alone was needed to accommodate the Marshal's uniforms.

The Colonel found Murat in his study, a downstairs room which also served him as an office. He was fully dressed, and smoking a cheroot. There was a decanter of brandy on the table beside him.

‘Sit down, my friend. Help yourself to some of this excellent stuff. Polish—compliments of the owner of this charming house.' De Chavel knew at once that the Marshal was in a bad temper; the more he bantered on these occasions the more it indicated his rage.

‘Thank you; will there be anything left in the cellar by the time we leave for Russia?'

‘Nothing, if I can help it. I'm sick to death of these damned Poles!'

‘Your message was to come urgently,' De Chavel reminded him. He drank some of the brandy and grimaced. ‘Ugh, good God, Sire, how could you drink this stuff—it's only fit to clean boots!'

‘That's the trouble with being an aristocrat,' Murat jeered. ‘You have a fancy palate. The matter
is
urgent. Sit down. I hope you've dined?'

‘I have,' the Colonel answered. ‘So have you, and I presume something's given you indigestion. What is it?'

‘You were quite right,' Murat said. ‘The whole thing was a trick; I went to Grunowski's this evening and there was Madame tricked out in a dress cut down to her belly, playing the tethered goat to snare the French tiger. It was obvious that she was set to catch me, and every one of those damned Poles at the party knew it. I made a rendezvous with her for tonight.'

‘She accepted?' De Chavel showed no surprise.

‘Yes, after a hesitation. I tell you, Colonel, I'm sick and tired of having our so-called allies spy on us and sell us out whenever it suits them. They need a lesson. This attempt on me is criminal. It ought to be punished!'

‘It's failed,' De Chavel said. ‘That's enough. The Emperor can't afford to make enemies here at the moment. We need the Poles firm at our rear. But we also need to get rid of cliques like the one our friend Grunowski organises. What are you going to do about the woman? Where are you meeting her?'

‘Here,' Murat said. ‘In about half an hour. She's expecting to have supper and allow me to seduce her and then the game will begin. You said she was an innocent!' He threw the half-smoked cheroot into the grate. ‘You should have seen her tonight. You should have seen her with me in the gardens! Bah, if there's one thing I hate it's a dishonest whore pretending to be virtuous.'

Nothing would ever make him forget that recoil when he touched her or the resistance to his kiss. He was mortally affronted, and ready to inflict any punishment on Valentina because she had hurt his vanity.

‘I shan't be here tonight,' he said. ‘Now it's my turn to play tricks. You can take my place, my dear De Chavel, and I advise you to take the fullest advantage of her. She'll be expecting it. What you do with her afterwards is your own affair. You might also have a word with her husband.'

De Chavel sipped a little more of the brandy before answering. He could have sworn that the Countess was innocent; the picture Murat painted of her as bare-breasted and wanton was impossible to imagine. Yet it was true; women were adept at deceiving; she had undoubtedly played a part for his benefit that night, and revealed herself in her true guise to the man she was hoping to ensnare.

‘She certainly made a fool of you,' Murat said. ‘You even warned her against me? Ha, I thought you were beyond being taken in by a
rusée
little slut like that!'

‘Wouldn't the lesson come better from you?' De Chavel asked.

‘I have other plans,' the Marshal answered. ‘I'm expected by another lady in fifteen minutes, and this is one I wouldn't want to miss. Will you take my place, or shall I give her to one of the grooms here? On second thoughts, that might be better—'

‘No,' De Chavel said. He looked up at Murat and smiled; it was not a pleasant smile. He had indeed been made to look a fool. It was not a role he enjoyed; he had filled it for too long during his marriage. ‘No, I have nothing to this evening. I'll entertain the lady in your absence. For purposes of interrogation, of course.'

‘Of course,' Murat laughed. He felt better; he would have given a month's income to see her face when she found herself alone with the Colonel, her shabby scheme discovered. To be raped by the wrong man—it was what the cold-hearted, calculating bitch deserved. That would teach her to shut her mouth and shiver when he, Murat, held her in his arms. He rang the bell and his valet came in, carrying the Marshal's fur-lined jacket and his enormous plumed helmet.

‘I bid you adieu,' he said. ‘You will find everything prepared upstairs. First floor; champagne and food and everything else you may require. Enjoy yourself!'

‘Thank you,' De Chavel said. ‘I will.'

‘This way, Madame.' The Marshal's aide-de-camp made Valentina a bow. His smooth young face was expressionless; he had personally escorted Murat to his carriage ten minutes before. The servants had gone to bed; except for himself the house was empty. He had orders to show the lady upstairs to the supper room and then retire. It was none of his business what happened after that. Valentina mounted the wide stairs after him; she felt numb and beyond shame.

‘If Madame will come with me.' The young man opened the double doors of a room on the first floor and stepped back for her to enter. It was a small room, comfortably furnished in the early Directoire style, with a round supper table in the centre, covered with a white cloth; silver dishes and fine porcelain and crystal were arranged in two covers, and a bottle of champagne cooled in a large silver epergne. There was a fire burning and the only flowers in the room were white roses.