Valentina (9 page)

He glared at the tall, good-looking man in the greatcoat and helmet of the Imperial Guard, and took an instant personal dislike to him. De Chavel regarded him with an insolent stare that sent the blood flushing angrily into the Count's face.

‘I asked you, Sir,' he repeated, ‘what the devil you wanted? Either you tell me or my servants will throw you out!'

‘I wanted to see you, for one thing,' De Chavel answered. ‘I wondered what sort of a man it was who would thrash his wife because she declined to go to bed with someone else. Now that I have seen you I consider you exactly what I thought. A miserably, cowardly cur. That's one thing I came for—to tell you that. And also to say that I shall repeat it, at a later date, with the appropriate action. Unfortunately I can't kill you at the moment, Count; that will have to be delayed. Secondly, your wife is safe and under protection. I'm sure you will be glad to know that.'

‘If my wife has run off with you, Sir' the Count said, ‘believe me I shall get her back. After I've killed you. And if she objected to my little lesson of the other evening I don't think she'll like the one I teach an unfaithful wife!'

‘But only if she's unfaithful with the wrong man,' the Colonel said softly. ‘Let me correct you. Madame has not become Marshal Murat's mistress. She is at this moment in his house, under the protection of the Imperial Secret Police, of which I have the honour to be in charge. Madame, and her sister, will be under our protection in the future. There is a signed order to that effect, and any attempt by you, or anyone else, to molest or disturb these ladies will be punished by the authority of the Emperor. They are State persons, my dear Count. Not even Count Potocki will try to interfere with either of them now. As for the unsavoury practice of using women to spy on your allies—your party did it very clumsily. We have been aware of your intrigue for a long time. Be good enough to have Madame's maid collect her clothes and bring them outside. I have transport waiting.'

‘I'll see you damned first,' the Count shouted. ‘She'll take nothing with her—as for the maid, she's my serf and I'll have her flogged to death! Tell my wife that!'

‘The Emperor abolished serfdom—she's a free woman. Also I have a detachment of a dozen men outside your entrance,' De Chavel said. ‘No one in this house will lay a hand on Madame's maid or stop her packing Madame's clothes.'

Within a minute there were two soldiers of the Guard standing on either side of the Count; when he protested they crossed their bayonets before his face. Soldiers moved quietly through the upper floors; in a little while one came down stairs carrying a trunk on his back, followed by Jana in a thick wool travelling cloak, her few possessions in a bundle.

De Chavel came back after he had put her into the coach. He dismissed his soldiers and the Count faced him alone.

‘You'll be sorry for this,' he spat at the Colonel. ‘You've covered your adultery with my wife very cleverly, haven't you? She's not in Murat's bed, but by God I wager she's been in yours tonight!'

De Chavel moved so fast that the Count never saw the blow; his open hand crushed across the furious older man's face, splitting his lip and sending him reeling back against the wall.

‘That's on Madame's behalf,' he said quietly. ‘My answer will be a bullet through the heart when I get back from Russia. If you go within twenty miles of Czartatz the local police will have orders to arrest you.'

At dawn that morning a large travelling coach started off from the Marshal's house in Kutchinsky Square. Murat himself had come to the supper room where Valentina and her maid were waiting to leave.

He had bowed to her and wished her luck; some of his pique still remained, but it was mollified by De Chavel's story. He didn't like the idea of the girl being bullied and ill-treated. It explained some of her reluctance to succumb to his charms. He forgave her, and kept a straight face when De Chavel said he was going to Czartatz himself.

‘You haven't, by any chance, a little personal interest in the lady?' he enquired. He had believed the Colonel when he said that nothing had taken place between them. Very surprising, but he believed him.

‘None whatever,' De Chavel told him. ‘I feel I owe it to her after what happened. I shall take her to her sister and see her safe, and then return here. I threatened to kill her husband, and I shall certainly do so. But not, I assure you, because I am in love with his wife.'

‘If you say so,' Murat shrugged. ‘It's no concern of mine. She's devilishly pretty, though.'

‘And devilishly vulnerable,' De Chavel countered. ‘I haven't many scruples, but this is one woman I refuse to take advantage of; the poor child's been hurt enough already. Adieu, Sire. Enjoy yourself; but beware of pretty Polish ladies! I can't rescue them all!'

For the first two hours they travelled at good speed, and then the roads were little better than cart tracks, uneven and full of pot-holes after the recent spring rains. At midday they stopped at a posting inn for food, while the horses were watered and fed. She and the Colonel had hardly spoken on the journey; Jana dozed most of the time. He was very attentive to her, but somehow withdrawn, and almost too polite. After the meal they started off again, and as the darkness came, their pace slowed down and the lurching stopped. They sat side by side, wrapped in bearskin travelling rugs, and, thinking him asleep, Valentina leant against his shoulder and drowsed. She awoke at the final stop for the night to find his arm around her and his scarred cheek resting against hers.

Chapter 3

Valentina woke after an uneasy sleep on the third day of their journey. They had spent the nights at posting inns along the way, but these grew more and more primitive as they proceeded. At the last place the beds were too dirty to sleep in, and she had spent the night on the floor wrapped in her cloak while De Chavel slept outside the door. Now they were on her own lands, and she leant forward to look out of the window. He was asleep beside her, and Jana snored opposite; they were all dishevelled and exhausted. It had been a tiring and dangerous journey, and without De Chavel's protection the two women travelling alone would have been robbed and molested before they had gone halfway. Valentina moved very carefully so that he shouldn't wake, and pulled the fur-lined rug over him; in the early-morning light his face was lined with fatigue. He had kept vigil most of last night while she and Jana slept. For the first time in five years Valentina knew what it meant to be protected and cherished, to have her needs anticipated so that she never had to ask for anything. It was extraordinary to her that a man could be so gentle; it was painful and disturbing to be in such close physical contact with someone who had held her in his arms and kissed her till her mouth ached, and never be touched by him except to sleep with her head against his shoulder. He had cared for her on the journey as if she were a child; he had never again given a sign that he was aware of her as a woman. Looking at him as he slept, Valentina surrendered to the pain and yearning of her new-found love, for she knew that love had come to her at last. It hurt her to study that face, so stern and distant in repose, with the scar of an old wound riven into his cheek; it hurt unbearably because she longed to lean across and wake him with a kiss, to put out her hand and stroke his face until he opened his eyes and took her in his arms. And yet there was happiness in her disquiet, joy because the emptiness of life was gone, and he was still beside her. She would not allow herself to think for how long or to what end.

The rough road branched into a narrow track; the coach bumped and lurched, so that the two sleepers woke. When De Chavel opened his eyes Valentina was gazing out of the window.

‘There's Czartatz! There, up on that rise!'

De Chavel pulled on the cord attached to the coachman's arm and thrust his head out of the window. ‘Whip them up, we're there!'

The house at Czartatz was first built as a fortress, part of the scattered fortifications designed to repulse Russian invasions and the occasional raid for cattle and women made by isolated Russian marauding bands.

It was not beautiful; the stone towers were square and grey and the front facade was flat and built of the same forbidding stone. Valentina's ancestors had lived there for three hundred years, and only in the last century had her grandparents made improvements and given the old castle a few civilised amenities. Czartatz itself was built on a steep rise, almost a hill, and surrounded by woods and parklands; the estate numbered fifty thousand acres, and by the standards of the big landowners it was a modest holding.

When the coach stopped in the paved courtyard liveried servants came running up to hold the horses and help them down; at the sight of Valentina the senior footman dropped on his knees, kissing her hand and stammering with delight. ‘Madame, Madame … after so long. Ladislaw! Go and fetch Her Highness! Hurry!'

She was so stiff that she could hardly walk up the flight of steep stone steps to the entrance; for a moment she paused, looking round her at the familiar countryside and the faces of servants she had known since she was a child; there were tears of happiness in her eyes. They were in the dark, stone hall when Valentina's sister came to meet them.

‘Sandra!'

‘Valentina!'

They ran into each other's arms and embraced for a long moment without saying anything; De Chavel stood waiting until at last the elder sister raised her head and looked at him. She put Valentina gently away from her.

‘Who have you brought with you?' she said.

She had a rather deep voice; De Chavel stepped up to her and bowed. ‘Princess, I am Colonel De Chavel, of the Emperor's Imperial Guard. I have accompanied your sister from Danzig.'

She was tall for a woman; she was dressed in a black serge riding habit and she carried a crop in one hand. She was not beautiful; her pitch black eyes were slanted in an arrogant Tartar face, framed in black hair. Not beautiful but certainly arresting.

She had her arm round her sister and looking down at her she smiled; a tenderness that was almost maternal transformed her face and made it gentle.

‘You've both had a long journey,' she said. ‘And a damned uncomfortable one. I'm not going to ask a single question until you've bathed and changed and you've eaten breakfast, little one. And you too, Colonel. My house is at your disposal. Ladislaw! Janos! Attend to this gentleman! Come upstairs with me, Valentina. And someone unsaddle my horse—I shan't be riding this morning.'

Still with her arm round her shoulders, Alexandra went upstairs with her sister. De Chavel followed them and at the landing they paused and he saw Valentina turn and look back at him.

‘If there's anything you want,' she said, ‘just ask; Ladislaw will get it for you.'

‘Thank you,' De Chavel nodded. He was so weary he could hardly speak; all he wanted was a bath and to sleep through the day.

Half an hour later he was in a deep feather bed, some of the ache and strain gone out of his body after a hot hip bath, and within seconds he was fast asleep. His mission was accomplished; she was safe and with her sister; from the little he had seen of Alexandra Suvarov, she would be well able to take care of Valentina. He could leave with an easy conscience; he could forget about the whole affair and sleep in peace.

‘I had given you up,' Alexandra said. ‘Not a letter from you for two years. I thought you were amusing yourself and had forgotten me.' She leaned forward and squeezed Valentina's hand. They were in Alexandra's private sitting room; it was a very feminine room for such a commanding woman, full of flowers and pictures, and the Russian furniture which Irina, Countess Prokov, had brought with her as a bride. Valentina lay on the sofa, her sister beside her; she had no wish to sleep; she was too happy and excited and she had already told the whole story to Alexandra. Only her sister's insistence had made her eat breakfast but when the eggs and sour bread and chocolate came, she discovered that she was famished with hunger.

‘He wouldn't let me write,' she said. ‘I tried once but he found the letter, and the poor soul who took it was whipped. I didn't try again.'

‘I always hated him,' Sandra said. ‘I told our father he was a brute and would make you miserable. What a pity he didn't choose me!'

‘You wouldn't have stood against him,' Valentina said. ‘My darling sister, even you would have been cowed after a time. You saw my shoulders—'

‘I did,' The black eyes gleamed with hatred. ‘If he'd done that to me I'd have poisoned him. Poor little one!' She smiled again, and her voice was gentle. ‘How he must have enjoyed bullying you! And then to try and push you into this Frenchman's bed as if you were some bondgirl—you Poles have a strange sense of honour!'

‘You're half Polish,' Valentina reminded her. ‘You can't deny that.' This was the only point on which they had ever disagreed.

‘I'm nothing,' Sandra said. ‘I belong to no country. I live here and mind my own business. That's all I ask.'

‘Even when the war begins?' Valentina said. ‘When we're helping the French fight your mother's people? Won't you take sides then?'

‘No,' Sandra said. ‘What is war to me? Czartatz is far away from all of it. Let them kill each other; I've better things to do. And so have you, now that you've escaped that monster. Tell me,' she asked the question very casually but her glance was shrewd, ‘what is this Colonel's real interest in you?'

‘Why, nothing.' Valentina coloured. ‘I told you the story. That's all there is.' She omitted that scene in Murat's private room, because nothing would convince Alexandra that he had let her go. And being Alexandra, she wouldn't think any the more of him if he had.

‘Very well, if you don't want to tell me, you needn't. I'm not prying, little one. You have a lover if you want to; it's about time you learnt that all men aren't swine and some of them can be quite agreeable, shall we say.' She laughed, and stood up.