Valentina (8 page)

‘If Madame will wait a moment,' the aide said, and bowing slightly he closed the door and she heard his steps going down the corridor. Valentina went to the sofa and laid her velvet cloak down; there was not a sound anywhere. She moved over to the fire and warmed her hands. She faced the door, waiting for Murat to come in. In the carriage she had rehearsed over and over again what she was going to say and do. Throw herself on her knees, tell him how she had been coerced and threatened, implore him to help her and save her sister. It sounded easy enough when she said it all to herself; it seemed far less credible now when she had only a moment or two before she was face to face with the Marshal.

‘Good evening, Countess. May I get you some champagne?'

She swung round; the voice came from behind, and it was not Murat standing in the doorway of another room leading off this one. The man came nearer into the light, and she recognised the mocking, arrogant face with the sinister scar on one cheek.

‘Colonel De Chavel!'

‘At your service, Countess.' He bowed, and stepped close to her. ‘You look surprised. Weren't you expecting me?'

‘Why no … I thought … Marshal Murat invited me …' She stammered helplessly, and there was something in the cold grey eyes that made her shrink away.

‘Alas,' the Colonel said, ‘His Majesty was called away. Won't you make do with me instead? I'm a French officer and I know a deal more secrets than he does.' He looked into the lovely face and the blue eyes, widened with fear and bewilderment, and he could have struck her for lying to him that first night. She had a marvellous acting talent, but he was not the man to be deceived a second time.

‘I don't know what you mean, Colonel. I came to supper with Marshal Murat. What are you doing here?' She made a move towards the door.

He stepped in her way, one arm stretched out across the fireplace.

‘What's wrong with me, Madame? You seemed to like me well enough the other evening. I can be as charming a supper companion as the Marshal, I assure you. Calm yourself; you don't have to play-act with me. Will you sup first, or shall we wait till after?'

‘I don't know what this means,' she said desperately. ‘I want to leave. Please step aside.'

‘Don't play-act,' he repeated. ‘You want some secrets—try and worm them out of me!' He came close to her and caught her round the waist. She hadn't a chance of resisting; he was strong and he had kissed a multitude of women, some of them initially against their will. He bent her back, and kissed her on the mouth. Desperately she wrenched her head away, thrusting against him.

‘Don't, don't,' she begged. ‘You don't understand, you don't know the real reason—'

‘Oh but I do,' he said; his face was in her hair, his lips burnt her throat with kisses; his grip on her had tightened so that she couldn't move. ‘You came to take a lover. Now you're going to take me.'

She gave a scream, but he only laughed and half lifted her in his arms, taking her to the inner room.

‘No one will hear you, and if they did, they wouldn't come. Stop struggling, Madame. Pretend I'm Murat.'

She was crying as he laid her on the bed; she struck at him with her fists, and her resistance made him furiously angry; it seemed so real, when he had Murat's word for what she really was. And what had begun as a trick to play upon the trickster became a blind and angry passion to possess her. He held her unwilling body in his arms and forced his kisses on her and at last he felt the slackening which he knew presaged response. There was a moment's respite when he raised his head and looked at her; her eyes were closed, and her face was wet with tears. He had a moment of doubt, but he wanted her so much that he banished it. She was ready to make love to Murat. She must learn to accept him instead. He undid the blue ribbons fastening the lace fichu at her breast and uncovered her shoulders to kiss them. For a moment he didn't move. Valentina opened her eyes; she was exhausted, unable to fight him or protest.

‘Who did this to you?' His voice was a whisper; he raised his head and looked at her. ‘Who made these marks?'

‘My husband.' She turned her head away and the tears began to flow again.

‘My God!' De Chavel said. He touched her and she winced.

‘When did this happen?'

‘Yesterday. When I refused to go to bed with Murat.'

‘Good God in heaven!' De Chavel's voice shook. ‘Why didn't you tell me?'

‘What difference would it have made?' she asked him bitterly. ‘Why have you stopped, Colonel? How different are you from him?'

‘I've never hurt a woman in my life,' he said slowly. ‘I'd like to kill him for this. Wait, let me help you.' He lifted her very gently up on to the pillows, and she relaxed and let him hold her. She had a wild impulse to throw her arms round his neck and weep and weep; he took the crumpled lace and covered her with it. ‘Forgive me,' he said. ‘I must have hurt you abominably.'

‘It doesn't matter.' Valentina wiped her eyes. ‘I've known nothing else. I came to tell Marshal Murat the truth. I thought he might help me.'

De Chavel had taken her hand in his. ‘I doubt he would have listened to you. He said you led him on, he said you were willing. That's why I treated you as I did. I'm sorry. I'm sorry with all my heart. Will you give me a chance to help you? Tell me exactly what happened.'

‘My husband told me I must spy on your officers,' Valentina said. ‘He said it was my duty.'

De Chavel nodded. ‘I guessed as much. Go on.'

‘When he saw me the night after the reception he was very angry. He accused me of letting Murat slip through my fingers because I preferred you.' A little colour crept into her face and she looked away from him.

‘And did you?' he asked.

‘Well, yes … I mean I didn't think it mattered … it was harmless.'

‘Yes,' he agreed gently. ‘Of course it was. Quite harmless.'

‘He forbade me to see or speak to you again,' she said. ‘When I asked him what he really expected me to do, he told me. I was to be seduced by Murat; it was all arranged, all planned by him and Potocki. I refused. I'm not a whore, Colonel, no matter what you think.'

‘No, I'm a fool. A blind, unforgivable fool, that's all.'

‘If it had been only myself I would have held out,' Valentina said. ‘But I'm not alone. I have a sister—a half-sister, who lives in Czartatz. Our father's dead. Her mother was a Russian. Theodore—my husband—said he would denounce her as a Russian spy and have her hanged unless I did as I was told. He would have made me watch. I know him. He doesn't threaten without meaning it. I thought I would have time to run away—I thought if I could reach Alexandra we might save ourselves. She's older and she's not afraid of anything … but it all happened at once. The dinner party—the Marshal's invitation. I had no choice. I would have done anything to protect my sister.'

‘I see,' De Chavel said. ‘I knew about the plan. I even knew you were the woman. But I was sure you didn't know how far it went. And I was right, thank God. Don't worry about asking Murat's help. As it happens, I can be more useful to you than he could. Much more useful.'

He lifted her hand and kissed it. It had taken all the self-control which he possessed not to bend down and kiss her mouth.

‘Come, let me help you up. We've got to plan what must be done.' He lifted her up and she stood against him; for a moment the temptation was too strong for him and he held her close, but as gently as he had been harsh before, and she felt his lips brush against her face. It was her first experience of joy in an embrace; warmth and sweetness swept over her; she longed for his mouth to move and find her lips. But he released her; he put her away from him very gently but with firmness which was for his own benefit. He felt shaken and shamed by what he had done and how close he had come to committing the final outrage. He was aware that, worst of all, the combination of force and skill had brought the unhappy girl to the point of total surrender. It was unforgivable; he detested himself for the advantage he had obviously gained over her. He detested the whole ugly, pitiless situation, in which she was a tool for the ambitions of others.

‘Come and sit down, and let me give you something to drink.' He took her hand and led her back to the outer room and made her sit before the fire. A moment later he handed her a glass of Murat's champagne.

‘Drink that,' he said. ‘And don't try to talk till you're completely calm.' He had always hated women's tears; they embarrassed him and aroused his suspicions. Liliane used to cry, and she always looked pretty and unruffled when she did it. Her sobs meant nothing, she could dry her tears and burst out laughing seconds later. But Valentina's tears were silent, and they were flowing freely. The emotional strain had been far greater than she realised. The kindness of the man who had so nearly violated her was worse than any cruelty; she wept and shivered until he wrapped her in her cloak, and the gentleness unnerved her. She felt like a child, desperate for comfort, and there was something so strong about him and so safe that she gave way for a few moments and clung to him.

‘Poor little one,' De Chavel said. ‘Stay quiet now; it's all over. You're safe, I promise you. I'll take care of everything.' He held the glass to her lips and made her finish it; he wiped her face and smoothed back her hair, and put cushions behind her, as if she were indeed a child.

‘What am I going to do?' Valentina whispered. She looked up at him standing before the fire. ‘I can't go back. Theodore will find out what happened tonight.'

‘You're not going back to him,' the Colonel said. ‘He'll never be allowed to touch you again. I give you my word on that. If it wasn't for the situation here, I'd call him out tomorrow morning and put a bullet through him. I've been thinking if I could risk it. But I can't, Valentina. The Emperor would never forgive me. Your husband is a powerful man; it might seriously affect Polish opinion if a Frenchman were to kill him and then run off with his wife.' He went to the table and poured himself a glass of champagne. He had indeed been thinking of killing the Count, and the thought gave him such pleasure that he had almost succumbed to the temptation. But not quite. He couldn't touch him yet. Later, when the war was won, and he returned, he would remind the Count that gentlemen do not ill-treat their wives.

‘The first thing is to get you to a place where you'll be safe. How far is your sister from here?'

‘About two hundred miles; Czartatz is very near the Russian border.'

‘We can get there in two days, or three days at the most, if we travel fast. But the first thing I have to do is put you under official French protection. And your sister.'

‘How?' Valentina said. ‘I tried to spy on you. Why should the Emperor protect me?'

‘The French Secret Police will protect you,' he said. ‘And it's easier to defy the Emperor himself than to meddle with us.' He smiled a little. ‘Yes, I am a policeman of a kind. At least while the Army is in Poland. I told you, I am more use to you than any Marshal.'

‘So you knew all the time?' Valentina said. ‘Did Murat know what I was doing?'

‘Of course,' De Chavel said. ‘He made me a present of you. As things turned out, I can only thank God. Now, I suggest you eat some supper while I write a letter to His Majesty explaining the position and send a word to my personal staff that your name and your sister's is to go on our special list.'

‘She's Princess Alexandra Suvarov.'

‘I know that name,' De Chavel said.

‘Her ancestor was a famous General under the Czarina Catherine,' Valentina said. ‘She has always used her mother's name. It made Father very angry.'

‘She must be an unusual woman, this sister,' he said. ‘How long since you've seen her?'

‘Five years; since I married. Theodore hated her. He wouldn't let us meet. He told me once he had intended marrying her until he saw me. She's very, very rich, I love her dearly.'

‘Good,' he smiled. ‘Now eat, while I do what must be done. I shall send a messenger to the house for your clothes.'

‘Oh, and my maid,' Valentina begged. ‘You must let her come with me.'

‘If you wish it. I shall bring her back myself.'

‘Bring her back? You mean you're going to my house yourself?'

‘I am,' he said. ‘I am going to say a word or two to your husband. In case he thinks he can try to get you back. Then I shall return and we will be on the road to Czartatz at dawn.'

‘I can't believe it,' Valentina said. ‘I can't believe I'm getting away from him.' She came up to him and held out her hand.

‘How can I ever thank you for all this?'

He stood still, determined not to touch her. If he did, and she responded, they were lost. ‘You can forgive me for what happened this evening?' he said.

‘With all my heart,' Valentina flushed and turned away. Something had happened to her while she was in his arms, something had broken and melted away like ice in the sunshine. No matter how it had begun, she knew she would have consented to his love-making. She would consent to it now, if he asked her.

‘I'll write what has to be written,' he said. ‘You rest and I'll be back for you in an hour. I'll out a guard on your door, so you have nothing to fear from anyone. Not even the Marshal,' he added. ‘Until one hour, Madame.'

‘May I ask what brings you here at three o'clock in the morning?' The Count had been in bed when the Colonel's summons came; he had been asleep and very inclined to tell the intruder to go to the devil at that hour. But he recognised the name De Chavel. This was the gallant who had paid such marked attention to his wife that first evening. He got up, and went down to see what he wanted. He had gone to bed in an excellent humour; Potocki had been very gratified, full of praise for him. The Grand Duke himself would hear of the service both Grunowskis had done their country. He had assured himself that Valentina had not returned and gone to bed without a qualm. He was not disturbed by the thought of her sleeping with Joachim Murat. He despised Murat as a common, low-born soldier of fortune and he felt sure his wife would find the affair a detestable ordeal. He could only hope that Murat wouldn't be bored with her after one night.