Vintage Love (27 page)

When the servant waiting on them had retreated after clearing away the dessert, Von Ryn asked her, “You did not like the meal?”

“It was a banquet,” she said.

“Yet you did not show enjoyment of it?”

“I am your prisoner.”

“So that is your excuse,” he said with a sour smile. “You are a spy. You know that I could have you executed at once.”

“I do not believe France is at war,” she said. “Spies are only given the death sentence when countries are at war. At least that is what I have been told.”

“Your information is faulty,” he snapped. “In any case the emperor is about to head the new revolution.”

“I much doubt that,” she told him.

“Do you?” he asked with sarcasm. “Have you any idea what my nickname is?”

“Major Lacoste told me. You are called the ‘White Executioner’.”

“Correct. And I did not win that title by courting disrespect.”

“What do you propose to do with me?” she asked.

He tapped the ash from his cigar, then studied her with frightening pink eyes. “That depends a good deal on you. I have been asked to bring you to our leader.”

“Valmy?”

“Who else?”

“I understood your cause was that of the emperor’s,” she said.

His smile was cold. “Valmy now makes the emperor’s decisions.”

“Then it is a sad day for Napoleon,” she told him.

He did not seem bothered by her words. “Napoleon was finished at Waterloo. But the idea he gave birth to lives on. There must be progress. Thus it follows that a young man, Valmy, must take the role of emperor.”

“Have you let Napoleon know your views? That he is merely being used as your stepping-stone to power?”

“That is not necessary. Napoleon does not ask questions any longer. He is a broken man, dependent on Valmy to make his decisions for him.”

“Then I think you are introducing a spurious Napoleon. I find it impossible to believe that the man I knew would bow to such an arrangement.”

Von Ryn stashed out his cigar. “You will meet the emperor. He is at headquarters. You can find out for yourself.”

She rose from the table. “I’m very weary. My ankles and wrists still ache. I would like to retire to my bedroom.”

He also got to his feet. “The evening is still young.”

“I cannot help that,” she said.

“I have a suggestion,” he told her, coming around and taking her by the arm. “Let me give you a tour of the place before your retire. I would like to show you my room.”

“No!” she said sharply.

The pink, brooding eyes met hers. “You can do as I ask or face a firing squad.”

“You wouldn’t dare kill me!” she said. “Valmy has made a request to talk with me.”

“I can do with you what I will,” he replied evenly. “I can tell Valmy you tried to kill me and I was forced to shoot you.”

“I doubt if he would believe that.”

“I lie very well.”

“I do not doubt that,” she said.

“You have your choice,” he went on. “My room or the firing squad.”

She made no reply, realizing this was not an idle threat. He fully intended to kill her if she didn’t humor him. She knew he would take her silence as agreement; indeed this was what it was. When she had volunteered to become a secret agent for Felix Black, he had hinted she might be faced with such a moment. Now it was at hand.

Von Ryn’s smile was lustful. “My room is down this hallway. You will find it larger than your own. You may spend the night if you like it. It is rather luxurious.”

His bedroom was larger and better furnished, its chief feature being a large double bed and a canopy. He closed and locked the door after them. Then he removed his belts and jacket. After that he poured both himself and her another drink.

He ordered her, “Undress! It gives me a certain pleasure to watch a woman disrobe.”

She made no reply. She was repelled by everything about him and tried to make herself think this was not real but a kind of grim dream. Slowly she removed her outer clothing and then her undergarments, until she stood before him naked.

He came to her with his pink eyes shining with lust. He whispered in her ear, “Your body is more lovely than your face.” At the same time he kissed her and explored her breasts.

She felt no passion quicken in her. She was merely cold and frightened. He kept on whispering endearments and caressing her as he removed the rest of his clothing. Soon they were in bed together, and she felt his thrusting into her. While he was a vigorous lover, she could not offer any response to what she felt to be rape.

When his passion had been satiated, he sat up in bed and scowled at her. “You are like a creature of wax without any life! I have consorted with the kitchen girl here, and I vow her to be a better bed partner than yourself.”

Quietly she said, “I did not boast of my accomplishments. This was entirely your idea.”

“And so you behaved as coldly as you could,” he said with annoyance. “You may have played your cards wrong, young lady. I could have been helpful to you if you had tried to please me.”

“I’m not your prostitute,” she said. “I’m your prisoner.”

“And you can return to your cell!” he snapped. “Go on! Take your things with you! I do not want you here! I shall send for the kitchen girl, and she will spend the night at my side.”

She hastily got out of the bed and put on her shift and slippers and carried the rest of her things in her arms. Tears of humiliation in her eyes she rushed out of the room and on to her own tiny quarters. She was spared further embarrassment by the fact she met no one along the way. Alone in her room she threw herself on the bed and sobbed.

A maid brought her breakfast on a tray early the next morning. She ate in her room and then dressed. She had just finished dressing when there was a knock on her door.

Tensely she went and opened it and discovered it was the elderly Dr. Lacoste. He bowed and asked, “May I come in for a moment?”

“Yes. Please do,” she said, putting aside the tray and pulling out the plain chair for him.

He waved this aside. “I will not need to sit down,” he told her. “I wanted to see if you were all right.”

“Yes,” she said.

“You saw Von Ryn last night?”

“Yes. I dined with him.”

The old man nodded grimly. “So I understand. And he bedded you afterward.”

Her cheeks burned. “Did he boast of that?”

“He spoke of it.”

“It was not a conquest. It was rape.”

“I understand,” the veteran doctor said. “You were wise to accede to his wishes. He is not above wanting to have you executed. Best to give him no excuse. I think he derives some sexual satisfaction from ordering people’s deaths by the firing squad. I have watched his face as it happened.”

“I knew his threat was genuine. But I fear he was much disappointed. I did not prove satisfactory to him.”

Dr. Lacoste smiled. “You used a woman’s weapon and did it well. He is vain where his bedroom prowess is concerned. Unless he leaves a maid in raptures, he feels he has not been properly appreciated. Your smartest move was to fail him.”

“Yes,” she said wryly. “He let me know he prefers the embrace of the kitchen maid.”

“So let her have the dubious honor of pleasuring him,” the old doctor said. “From all that he said this morning, he considers you a cold fish not worth the bother. So you ought to be safe until you are taken to Valmy.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Is he a ravisher of his women captives also?”

“He is fond of your sex,” the doctor admitted. “And he beds down those who appeal to him.”

“Perhaps I can make myself look ugly,” she suggested.

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t worry about it yet. And it may well be by the time you reach Valmy, he will be too busy with the new revolution to think about women.”

“Is the revolt that close?”

“The day has been set,” Major Lacoste told her. “We leave here with tomorrow mornings early tide. It is a couple of days transport by vessel to headquarters.”

“I do not like what I’m hearing about Napoleon’s physical and mental state,” she said.

“Perhaps seeing you will be good for him.”

“I was his friend, not his mistress. I was little more than a child at the time.”

“The emperor needs friends more than he ever did,” the old doctor said gravely. “That is why I will not desert the cause.”

“It is Valmy’s cause!”

He raised a protesting hand. “I have hopes, perhaps they are fantasies. But I believe when the moment of crisis arrives, the emperor will regain his strength. He will rise to his old self!”

“I fear you will be disappointed,” she said.

“We shall see,” the one-armed man sighed. “I shall keep a protective eye on you. And let me warn you not to annoy Von Ryn further. I believe him to be a little mad.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I shall attempt to stay quietly out of his way.”

Pursuing this thought, she remained in her room most of the day. She opened the small window to let in the sun and air. And mostly she paced up and down the small space trying to think what she might do that she had not done, balancing thoughts of escape in her mind. She knew the house was well guarded, but perhaps between the house and the boat she might make a break or even at the other end of the journey.

She thought of Raj Singh who had given his life trying to warn her. She also wondered what had happened to Kingston. The poor actor would be in a state with Singh dead and both she and Eric vanished. But it was of Eric she thought most. If there had been any doubts in her mind as to her love for him, they no longer existed. She wondered what the sphinxlike Felix Black would say if he were told she had come to truly love the young officer. Perhaps it was what he’d expected.

For it was difficult to know what a master plotter like the thin man in black had in mind. She did not believe, as the old doctor had tried to tell her, that she was a pawn in a game designed to take the life of Napoleon. Felix Black had clearly stated that he wanted the former emperor saved and sent to a safe exile in the United States.

But Edward Barry O’Meara had not believed that. Like Dr. Lacoste, it was the Irishman’s view that Black simply meant to discover if Napoleon had escaped for this final adventure and if he had, eliminate him from the earth. She clung to her belief in the word of Felix Black despite her growing confusion.

No invitation to share dinner with him came from General Von Ryn this second night of her being a captive in the old house. She had not expected one, indeed she had hoped she would not hear from him again.

But shortly before seven Dr. Lacoste came to her door, and with a wry smile on his lined face, the one-armed man told her, “I have come to ask you to dine with me. I cannot promise as fine fare as the general offered last night, but on the other hand I shall not expect the sort of payment which he demanded.”

She returned the old man’s smile. “I shall be happy to dine with you. As long as it will not anger the general.”

The old doctor said, “He has left us for the evening. There is a brothel in the next village. He often goes there. I doubt if he will return much before sailing time tomorrow morning.”

“In that case I look forward to our dinner,” she said.

And she actually enjoyed it. They dined at the same table in a candlelit atmosphere. The food was ample if not as rich as the previous night, and she was able to relax and enjoy it. The conversation was much more interesting.

It turned out that the old doctor was a native of Le Havre on the English Channel and had often visited in England as a youth. He regretted the wars, but he revered Napoleon and his days of service as an army surgeon.

“I lost my arm in a battle with the Austrians,” he said, reminiscing over his brandy. “Seventy thousand men crossed the river! We marched over the field where six centuries earlier the first Hapsburgs had battled for their throne.”

“It all is still real to you,” she said.

“It is,” he agreed. “The emperor was there looking after us. It seemed he was everywhere at once. The men worshiped him and so did I. The battle began in earnest in the tall cornfields of yellow! The cavalry rode across the plain under a cloudless sky. Then the casualties began to roll in.”

“That would keep you occupied.”

“We were near the front line most of the time. So the men hadn’t to be brought far. Some of the poor devils were beyond anything but the priest. Others we could help. Fifteen hundred from one division returned, and their strength had been sixteen thousand when they started out.”

“So many men lost!” she said, shocked.

“We didn’t even think about it,” he told her. “I was trying to stop the bleeding in the side of an infantryman when the blast hit us. When the air cleared, I saw the ends of my torn left sleeve. My severed arm was on the ground a distance away!”

“How awful for you!” Betsy said.

“I didn’t even realize what had happened: that it was I who had been maimed this time. My helper came to me and stood there in shock. He’d been lucky enough to escape any damage. I swore at him and told him to tie off the stump so I wouldn’t bleed to death. I still felt no pain. He did as I directed and then he saw me on my way back to the hospital tent. I collapsed on my way there and had to be carted the last mile.”

“And after all that you still had the urge to return to active military service,” she said in wonder.

“It is in my blood,” Major Lacoste told her. “I felt useless and mutilated. As soon as I was out of hospital, I worked at improving my skill as a one-armed man. I amazed my colleagues at the hospital by my ability to manipulate the scalpel and direct an operation.”

“And you did return to the army.”

“I had a special audience with the emperor. He gave me a decoration, and I told him that was not what I wanted. When I asked to be allowed to return to front-line service again, he smiled at me and gave his permission. I shall never forget that moment.”

“You are a very brave man, Major. Napoleon sensed that.”

“He had always been my idol. But after that day my worship was complete. He is my life.”

“You long for more battles?”

“I hate war and its battles,” he said with a burst of emotion. “But I long for victory, to see the emperor restored to his greatness.”