Escapade, page 8
‘How could they not come, your majesty, to an entertainment specially arranged for them?’
‘Oh, he will find a way, that hard Lord Bentinck. I know his English kind. Polite as be damned, and do just what they want. So let us think of his wife. Persuade her, surely he would come?’
‘I’m not so sure,’ said Beth. ‘But I agree it would be better if it were to be something that seemed specially arranged to please her. It would certainly make it harder for him to say no.
‘I knew you would be a good friend, Miss Prior. A good ally. I felt it in my heart, when we met. So, what is it to be?’
Beth had been thinking hard. ‘An entertainment Lady William could not resist? I wonder if there is such a thing. She is a very religious lady.’ She thought what a gulf there was between Lady William’s stern Evangelical beliefs and the emotional saints’ worship of the Sicilians. ‘A concert, perhaps, of religious music? Nothing too long or heavy? I don’t believe music is Lord William’s passion, or his wife’s. But if it were to be Handel perhaps? Something they were used to hearing, or hearing of, in England? Or Herr Haydn? Some of the music he wrote while he was visiting England? His Creation perhaps? Or some of it?’
‘Impossible!’ exclaimed the Queen angrily. ‘Have you forgotten? Or are you too young to know that an attempt was made on Napoleon’s life on his way to The Creation’s first performance in Paris. If it had only succeeded! And anyway there is something very free-thinking about the text of that oratorio. It would not do at all. But you are on the right track, just the same, I am sure of it.’ She was sounding calmer, Beth was relieved to hear, the rational talk of music soothing her.
It suggested something. ‘I know,’ Beth exclaimed. ‘Handel’s Ode to St. Cecilia. Nothing controversial about that; it’s not too long and should not be too hard for Signor Bartolucci to get up.’
‘You will sing in it?’
‘Your majesty, my voice is not suited to oratorio. I must beg to be excused.’
‘Maybe that is for the best,’ said the Queen. ‘If you are to be in the audience, we can be sure of Mr. Forde, and let us hope he will persuade Bentinck to condescend to come too. Thank you, Miss Prior, I will have it put in hand at once, to be ready the instant Lord William returns, satisfied, no doubt, that his English troops are ready and willing to march on us here in Palermo if he so wishes.’
‘Your majesty!’ Beth was equally horrified at the possibility, and at the Queen’s awareness of it.
‘It surprises you that I know of his plans?’ The Queen’s voice was rising again. ‘Give your friend Forde a message from me, Miss Prior. Tell him I may be an old sick woman who loses her temper, and is sometimes afraid, but thank the good Lord, and my good servants, I am well informed. Yes?’ Angrily, to a nervous servant. ‘I said I was not to be disturbed.’
‘Signor Castroni is here, majesty. He said it was most urgent.’
‘So soon? Very well.’ She thought for a moment, then. ‘Show him in. I think I would like you to meet him, Miss Prior, or rather I would like him to meet you.’
Beth did not much like the look of Castroni. His clothes were too rich, his manner at once obsequious and, somehow, over-confident. Told by the Queen that Miss Prior was her good friend and to be respected as such, he bowed low over her hand and said it would be his pleasure, with an appreciative look she did not like at all. She was glad when Flora Cottone appeared to take her away.
‘Who is Signor Castroni?’ she asked in the carriage.
A warning hand descended on hers. ‘He is our Chief of Police,’ said Flora Cottone, ‘whom we all revere.’
* * *
‘And fear,’ said Forde at the Marino that night. ‘And so should you. He came with the King and Queen from Naples, where he had made himself so much hated as a police informer that he can never go back. But he is indispensable to the Queen, I understand. Not only as informer but as spymaster, if the reports are to be believed. Well, I suppose we should be grateful that the Queen has introduced you to him as someone to be protected. But tell me about the rest of your interview. The Queen did not just get you there to meet Castroni?’
‘Oh, no. She was angry, at first, when we were interrupted. But Castroni’s name seemed an open sesame. He’s her spy-master, is he? She’s alarmingly well informed, you know. I have a message for you, to tell you just that.’ She explained the circumstances.
‘Frighteningly well informed,’ Forde agreed when she had finished. ‘Spies in England as well as here. What a blessing she has taken a fancy to you, Beth.’
‘I doubt you can call it that,’ said Beth. ‘She means to use me, just as you do.’
‘Beth!’
But Peabody and Charlotte had returned from the Falconis’ carriage, and the conversation inevitably turned to the proposed trip to Segesta. It seemed to be more and more of a settled thing, but must be postponed until after Bentinck’s return and the entertainment at the palace. They would none of them wish to miss that.
‘And that postponement is a great relief,’ Forde told Fagan next day. ‘I don’t much like that project.’
‘I know. But if the Falconis are going, there really can be no danger. I should think it must be an opportunity for Peabody to meet someone who dares not show his face here in Palermo, and I would dearly like to know who that is.’
‘Yes,’ said Forde. ‘There is something very much too good to be true about that young man.’
‘There was a ship in from America this morning,’ Fagan told him. ‘They have voted in a very belligerent Congress there, by what I hear. War Hawk Republicans to a man. I don’t much like it, Forde. We could do without a war with them.’
‘We most certainly could. But what has that to do with Peabody, who must have left home some time ago? Do you know how long he was in Naples? He is purposely vague, I think, when one asks about it.’
‘No, and I don’t know how he got there either. I have been trying to find out, but the men who risk their lives crossing to the mainland usually have more serious errands to do.’
‘Yes. Interesting that the Queen banned The Creation on the grounds that Napoleon was nearly assassinated on his way to it. You would think that was to his credit, in her eyes.’
‘You’re not thinking, Forde. No monarch can afford even to seem to countenance the assassination of another monarch. It opens too many doors. And Maria Carolina never for a moment forgets the death of her sister, Marie Antoinette.’
‘Will we be able to persuade Bentinck to go to her entertainment?’
‘God knows. I imagine it depends a good deal on what he has found at Messina!’
‘Will the King come to it?’
‘I doubt it. He is much too comfortable at La Ficuzza with his mistress and his sport. He doesn’t mean to be bullied, whether it’s by his wife or by Bentinck.’
‘And can you blame him?’ They exchanged a masculine, sympathetic glance.
* * *
Beth and Charlotte were also discussing the events of the previous day over the late breakfast they made a point of having together. ‘You met one chief of spies,’ Charlotte summed it up. ‘And I was warned against another. It does make life seem exciting, does it not?’
Beth laughed and reached out to pat her hand. ‘Oh, I am so glad I brought you, Charlotte. And yet, I’m not sure I should not send you swiftly home.’
‘No need to think of it.’ Charlotte smiled sweetly at her. ‘I wouldn’t go. I am having far too entertaining a time here.’ She reached out for another roll. ‘And I am getting fat, too! Tell that to my mother and step-father. I must take more exercise. Which reminds me,’ too casually, ‘Nathan Peabody would like to take me riding. With the Falconis, of course. You wouldn’t mind, Beth? I can’t sit at home all the time you are working at the theatre.’
‘No, of course not. But would it not be hideously hot?’
‘That’s what Lisa says, but I would so much rather ride to Segesta than go in one of those curious chairs they use, and you have to admit it would be sensible to get into practice first.’
‘I suppose so.’ Doubtfully. ‘I wish I felt quite happy about that Segesta trip, Charlotte.’
‘Oh,’ smiling brilliantly, ‘I think you and I can go without a care in the world now you have been officially introduced to the Chief of Police. I shall cling to your skirt tails, Beth, I warn you of that. Something very havey-cavey is going to happen on that trip, is it not?’
‘Well, I certainly think so.’ Relieved. ‘But Forde thinks we should go. Just so long as —’ She paused, wondering how to word the warning.
‘I’m not letting myself be fooled by Nathan Peabody’s sweet looks? I’m not the fool from the nursery he thinks me, Beth. Having so many brothers does teach one a thing or two about men. I know a lie when it’s acted out to me. Do you know, I actually find myself missing those boys.’
‘I’m delighted to hear it. We should both of us write to your mother, Charlotte.’
‘Careful letters.’ Charlotte grinned at her. Charlotte was enjoying herself. Amazing to look back at those sad days in Hull, all that unnecessary misery. It had truly surprised her to hear herself telling Beth she missed her half-brothers, but it was still perfectly true. She had been so much fonder of them, and they of her, than she had realised in what she now looked back on as her wallow of despair. And her mother? She did not think she was quite ready to write to her mother yet, though she had told Beth she would do so. That was going to be so difficult. Should she tell her about old Mrs. Comyn’s lies? She could not decide, and, until she did, she could not write.
* * *
‘Bentinck is back.’ Forde had arrived to escort them to the theatre, where Beth was not performing that night. ‘In no better temper than he left.’
‘No worse, I hope,’ said Beth. ‘Will he come to the Queen’s entertainment?’
‘I left Lady William doing her best to persuade him. If she cannot, no one can.’
‘There are to be illuminations in the palace gardens after the performance, I understand.’
‘Which doesn’t much please Bentinck. Money spent on fireworks that should be equipping a Sicilian army.’
‘All the more reason for seeing the Queen and telling her so.’
‘He says she won’t listen.’
‘That’s just what she says of him!’ She looked at the clock on the chimney-piece. ‘It’s getting late; we should be going. I do not like to be late for the theatre, as a member of the troupe.’ She rang the bell. ‘Tell Miss Pennam we’re ready to go, please,’ she told the servant.
Charlotte arrived a few minutes later, her colour high from hurrying into her clothes. ‘I am so sorry, Beth. We got arguing and forgot the time.’
‘Arguing?’ Forde had a special tone for Charlotte. ‘About the set of a sleeve or the colour of a ribbon?’
‘About neither.’ Her colour higher than ever. ‘About the way to run a country. It’s my German lesson,’ she explained. ‘Herr von Achen believes in firm government by a benevolent despot. He says we British will never get anywhere with our democratic notions, and as for any idea of trying them out here in Sicily — balderdash, he says.’
‘In German?’ Forde asked, teasing.
‘Naturally. It’s a very expressive language.’
‘And we are going to be late for the theatre.’ Beth interrupted before the argument could develop any further.
‘This von Achen.’ Forde seized a moment alone with her, down on the Marino after the performance. ‘What do you know about him?’
‘Just what Charlotte does. That he is a refugee, like so many others, from the French. You are anxious too?’ It was at once a relief to find their minds were working on the same lines, and disconcerting that the subject of their joint anxiety should be Charlotte. She was feeling more and more, disturbingly, out of touch with Forde, in these circumstances where they never seemed to have more than a few minutes alone together.
It had all seemed such a good idea, when they planned this trip. Enforced separation would bring the passion back into their relationship. He would recognise that he could not do without her. Having to behave like mere friends would add a new strength to the bond between them.
And what was happening? Having to behave like mere friends, they showed signs of becoming just this. She could no longer see into Forde’s mind, feel his feelings. They were beginning to drift, slowly, inexorably apart. She would not believe it. It was this sinister court, full of intrigue and strange overtones that made her imagine these horrors. She and Forde had been one; they would be again when this charade was over.
‘I think I would like to meet this von Achen.’ Forde had paused for a moment in thought. ‘I feel in some sort responsible for young Charlotte. She is looking much better, by the way. At least the cure seems to be working.’
‘Better than I had hoped. Her parents should be pleased.’
‘Just so long as we get her safe home to them.’ And with that mildly reassuring ‘we’ Beth had to satisfy herself.
* * *
There was no performance at the theatre next day and they were all invited to an evening’s entertainment at the Falconis’ palace. Beth had learned to enjoy the friendly, informal way the Sicilians entertained, with a little music, a great deal of conversation and unlimited ices to make the heat bearable. And she had also learned that she did not need to worry about Charlotte on these occasions, since there was always a cheerful group of young people somewhere, playing games like Cross Purposes. Charlotte fitted easily into these groups, though she pointed out wryly that in Sicilian terms she was almost an old maid, since Sicilian girls married as early as thirteen or fourteen, and could easily be grandmothers by thirty. They were used to growing up along with their brothers and cousins and had none of the British miss’s bashfulness when it came to relations with the male sex. But then, it struck Beth, neither had Charlotte, older sister of three half-brothers. Was that, perhaps, the secret of her charm for Forde? Because, slowly, reluctantly, wretchedly, she was beginning to admit to herself that Charlotte had charm for Forde. Could this be the reason for the increasing estrangement she herself felt from him? It would make unbelievably painful sense. He had come to her in the first place, because he could buy her, which made the relationship easy for him, as for so many other Englishmen. Had he, bitter thought, learned the way of it from her, so that he was ready, now, to fall in love and marry someone else? She had hoped so much that it had all changed between them: that they had become friends as well as lovers; that it would go with them as it had with Charles James Fox and his mistress, Mrs. Armistead, whom he had shocked society by marrying, and with whom he had lived happily ever after. Had she been the world’s fool to think this might happen between her and Forde? She was beginning to fear so.
But here was Bentinck approaching her, and she pulled herself together to be glad that he and Lady William had come to the Falconis’. It boded well, she thought, for their coming to the Queen’s entertainment next day.
‘Miss Prior. I had been hoping for a word with you!’ Bentinck took her arm to lead her into the discreetly illuminated gardens.
‘And I with you, Lord William.’ She was not going to let the initiative rest entirely with him, and felt this surprise him.
‘You have been to the palace, I understand. Helped to arrange this entertainment for tomorrow?’
‘You are well informed.’
‘I need to be. Come, Miss Prior, don’t fence with me. Tell me what it is all about.’
‘Simply that the Queen very much wishes to talk to you and feels that an informal occasion like tomorrow’s might be the best way. All she wanted to know from me was what form of entertainment was most likely to please you and Lady William.’
‘I suppose we should be grateful to you for your choice.’
He did not sound it. ‘But there was more to it than that, surely?’
‘Yes. That is precisely why I am glad to have this chance of speaking to you. She’s a sick woman, an old, sick, sad, frightened woman.’
‘Drugs and drink,’ he said.
‘That’s not fair!’ But anger would get them nowhere. ‘Think of her position, Lord William. So far from home; a dolt of a husband —’
‘Whom she has bullied so unmercifully that he keeps away from her.’
‘Yes. Publicly, with his mistress. She has borne him seventeen children, endured defeat and exile at his side, worked like a Trojan to hold things together here in Sicily —’
‘A Trojan woman,’ he interrupted again. ‘It would be very much more suitable if she were to let her son, the Crown Prince support his father.’
‘Have you met the Crown Prince?’
‘No.’ Surprised.
‘He’s a cipher; a nothing. Bends to every wind that blows.’ ‘No doubt because he has a harridan for a mother.’
‘That may well be true, but it does not alter the facts of the case. The King thinks of nothing but his own pleasure, his son is useless, only the Queen worries about the state of affairs here in Sicily.’
‘And plenty to worry about.’ His face closed. ‘But we’ll not talk of that. What you are saying, Miss Prior, is that it will add to the Queen’s set of grievances against us British if I do not see her and give her a chance to rant at me as she has done at all our other representatives.’
‘I want you to listen to her, my lord. Give her a chance to explain herself. Think if she were our own poor Queen Charlotte, bearing her load of grief, or your own mother.’
‘My mother is a lady. And knows better than to embroil herself in men’s affairs.’
Beth very nearly lost her temper. But what use would that be? She made herself smile at him. ‘That’s one in the eye for me, but do, pray, remember that I was asked to come here in the hope that I might have some kind of influence over the Queen,’ She thought he muttered something about ‘idiotic notion’ but pretended not to hear. ‘And in fact the Queen did talk to me quite freely. She wants you to understand what a useless lot the Sicilians are, says they won’t co-operate, won’t join the army.’
