Escapade, page 9
‘Exactly.’ He pounced on it. ‘Because they know that all she wants is to get back to Naples. She’d let Sicily sink to the bottom of the Mediterranean if it would win her Naples back. Never forget that, Miss Prior, when you are thinking your wise political thoughts. But you have convinced me, just the same. It would be the act of a coward not to go and let her loose off her batteries at me, and no Bentinck has ever been accused of cowardice. I shall look forward to seeing you at the palace tomorrow night, Miss Prior.’
She very nearly said, ‘Don’t go.’ In this frame of mind, he would do more harm than good. But opposing him would not improve his temper either. She accepted his brusque dismissal with deceptive meekness, but went home with the gloomiest expectations about next day’s meeting.
* * *
While Bentinck was talking to Beth, Gareth Forde found Charlotte among a laughing group of young people. ‘Miss Pennam, it is stifling in here. Can I persuade you to take a turn in the garden with me? I have a favour to ask you.’
‘Why, of course.’ Surprised and flattered, she accepted his arm and they moved out through wide open doors to the terrace. ‘A favour?’ She turned him a smiling, friendly face. ‘Something for Beth?’
‘No, Miss Pennam, something for me. Miss Prior can take very good care of herself, I think.’
‘Well, of course she can.’ Surprised. ‘It is what I so much admire about her.’
‘Admirable.’ He had got her off into a secluded alley by now. ‘But not womanly, Miss Pennam. I think it was only when I saw you ministering, like an angel of mercy, to those two poor ladies on board ship that I realised what a woman should be. Loving and cherishing; kind and tender; not always standing up to a man and discussing things with him.’
‘But that’s not really my line at all, Mr. Forde; the loving and cherishing thing, that was just an accident —’ She did not at all like the turn the conversation was taking.
‘You’re young, of course. Naturally you enjoy the success you are having among the young people here in Sicily, but I have seen enough of you to know that you want more out of life than that kind of social success. You want to do something in the world, Miss Pennam.’
‘Yes, that’s true.’ Now he had surprised her again.
‘Then I have a suggestion to make — an offer to make. I beg of you to think of it in all seriousness, Miss Pennam. I am older than you, I know, but Shakespeare says somewhere that that is how it should be. You would make an admirable wife for a diplomat, Miss Pennam — may I call you Charlotte —’ He had her hands now, as if he were sure of her answer.
‘You don’t — you can’t mean — But, Beth!’ It was the first, and paramount, of all the objections that leaped into her mind.
‘I am asking you to marry me, Miss Pennam — Charlotte. Miss Prior has nothing to do with that.’
‘Then she ought to,’ said Charlotte roundly. ‘And you may not call me Charlotte, Mr. Forde, and I would not dream of marrying you, whatever Shakespeare says. And now I will go back to my friends, if you please, and we will try to forget that this conversation ever happened.’
‘How can I forget, when my heart is yours?’ He felt, too late, that he had set about it wrong and turned on her the loving, languishing look that had made so many women his slaves.
‘Oh, stuff,’ said Charlotte, and left him.
7
‘I have a favour to ask of you, fräulein.’ Gustav von Achen took the volume of Goethe’s poems from Charlotte, his hand lingering for an instant on hers. ‘A great favour.’
‘Yes?’ Her hand tingled and she was afraid of a blush. ‘How can I serve you?’
‘This entertainment tonight. I long to see the palace, hear Herr Handel’s fine music. But I am an outcast, here in Palermo. Having no lands, I am nobody. You have shown me such kindness, gracious lady, that it emboldens me to ask if you might not be able to smuggle me into the palace tonight, in your train.’
‘Hardly a train.’ Doubtfully. ‘I would have to ask Beth —Miss Prior.’ It weighed on her mind that she had not told Beth about Forde’s outrageous proposal, but how could she?
‘Who would feel she had to say no. Forgive me for asking, and please forget I did so. I will remember my place better in future.’
‘No!’ Horrified. ‘It’s not like that at all. It’s monstrous you are treated like this. I only wish I could help. I am so sorry —’ What could she say?
‘If you are sorry for me, it makes it bearable, fräulein. It was a happy day for me, when you decided to improve your already admirable German.’
‘And for me.’ Now she really was blushing.
* * *
Considering how short a time the singers had had to learn their parts, Beth thought, the performance of a shortened version of Handel’s famous Ode to St. Cecilia went well enough. Dryden’s words were quite impossible to understand, but that was just as well, considering the Queen’s objections to the text of The Creation. Dryden’s idea of music as the life force, ‘the diapason closing full in man’, would hardly be approved by the Queens’s confessor, who had already objected to the performance on the grounds that St. Cecilia’s day was not in fact until November.
From the modest seats allotted to her and Charlotte at the back of the concert hall it had not been possible to see whether the Bentincks had come, but when the civil applause ended and the audience rose for the royal party to leave, Beth was pleased, she thought, to see them in the little group behind the royal family. The Queen looked surprisingly magnificent tonight, in crimson with a little tiara perched in an elegantly restrained coiffure. Beth could only hope that the knowledge of appearing as a Queen would make her behave like one, and that Bentinck was in a better temper than he looked.
‘Do let us go out into the garden,’ urged Charlotte. It’s stifling in here. Oh!’
The crowd was thinning, and Beth turned to see Nathan Peabody approaching them accompanied by another man it took her a moment to recognise. Both of them were impeccable in the dark coats and black satin knee-breeches that were still de rigueur for court appearances, and she had never seen von Achen in anything but the most shabby and casual dress before. But everyone knew that King Ferdinand had once almost hanged a man for appearing before him in what he considered revolutionary garb. Everyone knew, and everyone was careful.
‘I know I don’t need to present my friend von Achen,’ said Nathan Peabody, while Beth wondered just where they had met. ‘We are hoping for the pleasure of finding you ladies some ices, and a quiet place in the gardens to watch the fireworks, which I believe are to be superb.’
‘Thank you.’ Beth had been looking about for Forde, but he must be on duty with the Bentincks. It was unhappily significant of the new, remoter relationship between them that she had not heard from him all day.
It was good to get out into the heavily perfumed air of the terraced gardens, and to find the Falconis already established in a little yew-bordered enclave, with views both to the main terrace and to the sea. Falconi joined her at once, to congratulate her on the singers’ performance, and she was glad of it. Used to being the centre of attention, she had found it mildly disconcerting to see the two young men quietly competing for Charlotte’s notice. The child was in remarkable looks tonight. Was she actually a little glad that Forde was not with them?
If so, it served her right that he joined them a few moments later. ‘I have found you at last.’ Bending over her hand. ‘May I congratulate you on the performance? I thought Lady William actually enjoyed it.’
‘I am glad. And her husband did not mind it too much?’
‘Of that, I am not so sure. He is with the Queen now. We must just hope that good comes of it.’
‘But you doubt it as much as I do?’
‘I am afraid so. Flint and tinder, those two, and neither of them just in the listening vein. But I think it had to be done.’
‘So do I.’ She was glad to feel their minds in tune again. ‘If only they will try to understand each other. After all, they want the same thing, as do we all — Napoleon’s downfall.’
‘Yes, but do we all want it by the same means?’ He was looking past her now at the rest of the group. ‘Who is it absorbing young Charlotte’s attention?’
Did he usually call her Charlotte? Beth looked around. ‘Oh, that is Herr von Achen, her German tutor. He came with Peabody; I hope he was invited.’
‘The one she argues with?’ Forde surprised her. ‘If I were you, I would keep an eye on her dealings with that young man. I heard a rumour this morning I think you should know about. The talk in the town is that your Charlotte is an heiress. Is there truth in it, by any chance?’
‘Oh dear!’
‘So there is. I rather thought so. It’s interesting how the possession of money, or the expectation, gives a girl confidence. And no one could say your Charlotte lacks that.’ His tone was cool, and she was ashamed to be pleased.
‘No,’ she agreed thoughtfully. ‘But, do you know, I don’t think it’s just the money. You are right, there is money. I am sorry the gossips have got hold of it.’
‘And you chose not to tell me, for fear I turn fortune hunter?’
‘Gareth!’ Appalled. She was still trying to think what to say, how to explain, when the first firework went up and the little group moved forward to the edge of the clearing to watch. There was no more chance of private conversation, and she was not sure whether to be relieved or desolate.
She turned from watching a pyrotechnic display of the royal arms over the sea to find a page trying to catch her attention. ‘The Princess sent me for you, signora. You are wanted in the palace. Urgently.’
Princess? Which princess? They were all princes and princesses in Sicily; it meant nothing. She looked for Forde, but he had moved a little way to bend over Charlotte, explaining the royal arms of Naples and Sicily as they appeared emblazoned in the sky.
‘Urgently, signora,’ the page repeated.
‘I am summoned to the palace.’ She turned to Falconi. ‘Would you explain to Miss Pennam? Tell her I will look for her here?’
‘Should I come?’
‘The message said alone.’ She caught an exchange of glances between the page and Falconi.
‘We will await you here,’ Falconi decided, as a new burst of rockets distracted everyone else.
‘This way.’ The page led her swiftly through a maze of steps, yew walks and terraces, in at a side entrance and up a privy stair to a door concealed in the panelling of a small receiving room.
‘At last!’ It was the Duchess of Orleans who awaited her there, tension in every line of her. She was standing by a small table on which lay a little pile of the flowers she had been unconsciously shredding from her bouquet as she waited.
‘Miss Prior, you must help us; I cannot think of anyone else who can. My husband says it is the only chance of saving something out of this ruin.’
‘Ruin?’
‘My husband thinks so. He has lived in England, you know, truly believes you British are our only hope here in Sicily. And Lord Bentinck has thought fit to quarrel with my mother. They have said things to each other; unforgivable things. Ones that must be forgotten. I won’t tell you. If she should do so, you must promise not to listen. She wants to see you, Miss Prior; she has taken a great fancy to you. If you wouldn’t mind? To let her talk about it; to listen; try to convey to her that all you English are not bigots like that Bentinck. Oh,’ impatiently, ‘my husband insists it is her fault too, but think of it, Miss Prior, try to understand. After all these years a queen, to be given the lie to her face, accused of God knows what. We are afraid for her health, for her reason… The doctor is with her now, but when he goes… You won’t mind? And to say nothing of it afterwards? You see how we are trusting you, Miss Prior.’
‘You can. I am overwhelmed.’ It was true. ‘Anything I can do… ’
‘Just let her talk. The doctor says she must speak out her rage or it will destroy her. He means it. Let her talk, Miss Prior, and try and steer her thoughts into more pleasant channels. Ah, here is the summons.’
A lady-in-waiting had appeared through the concealed door. She looked distraught and seemed quite unaware of a great stain, presumably of some dark medicine, down the front of her dress. ‘This way.’ She led Beth back through the door and up one flight of the privy stair to emerge in the royal apartments.
It must be one of the smaller reception rooms, Beth thought, more formal than the one in which the Queen had last received her, with a state chair that was almost a throne. The Queen was sitting huddled in it, her hands running convulsively through the streaked grey-white hair; the tiara she had worn earlier hung at a rakish angle on the chair arm. Another lady-in-waiting, kneeling beside her, was trying to persuade her to drink from a silver goblet that steamed a little and smelled of wine and spices.
‘let me.’ Beth took it gently from her. This was no time for ceremony.
‘The doctor urges it,’ the woman whispered. ‘She is tearing herself to pieces, our poor lady.’
They love her, Beth thought. Her servants love her. It had to mean something. She did not think Bentinck’s much liked him. ‘Your majesty.’ She put down the goblet and bent to take a writhing hand and kiss it. ‘I am come to apologise for my countryman, and for my own mistake in urging the meeting.’
‘Apologise!’ The word had caught the Queen’s attention. ‘Too late for that! I would not speak to a serving maid so. Treachery! Who dares speak to me of treachery? I’ll tell the King! I’ll tell my son!’ Beth was appalled to see tears show in the red-rimmed eyes. And yet, might this not be a good thing, a way to relief ? ‘What’s the use,’ said the old lady who was also a queen. ‘They wouldn’t listen. I’ll tell —’ She looked about her, suddenly surreptitious. ‘Why should a woman not write to her own granddaughter? Poor child. Who else will help her? Who else can help me?’ She was muttering now, and Beth was glad to see that the lady-in-waiting had moved away, probably out of earshot. The Queen’s granddaughter was Marie Louise, wife to her enemy Napoleon. ‘And those Murats,’ Maria Carolina went on. ‘Sitting on my throne. To say I was in correspondence with them! I am the Queen.’ She sat up suddenly, straight in the ornate chair. ‘I write to whom I please. I’ll not be insulted, do you hear?’
‘Nobody would dare, your majesty.’ Beth proffered the cup. ‘Try a little of this?’
‘He dared! Oh, God! What would my mother have done to him? No one insulted her. She was a truly great queen — an empress. And she fought for her throne, as I have had to fight for mine. But it was hers! Born to it! I married mine. Do you know,’ she seized Beth’s hand and fixed her with a fierce, mad eye, ‘my sister should have married Naples, poor Josepha. Sometimes I wish I’d died of the smallpox as she did. All those years of marriage, of wooing him. Putting on my white gloves — he could never resist me in white gloves. And now — I’m a bad influence. Did you know that? The great Lord Bentinck thinks me a bad influence. He’d have me out of here if he could, but I’ll surprise him yet. I am Maria Theresa’s daughter, and I am still not without friends.’ She was tiring now. Her hand reached out half-consciously for the silver goblet. She sipped. ‘At least I showed him his place.’ A note of satisfaction now. ‘To speak to a queen like that. Unendurable.’ She sipped again, the draught visibly taking effect, and Beth caught the goblet as it was about to fall from her hand.
‘We do thank you, signora.’ The lady-in-waiting came quietly forward. ‘We can see to her now. She will sleep the clock round, and wake, please God, feeling better.’
And how would Bentinck feel? Who would be listening to him? Trying to make him see reason.
Returning to the gardens, Beth found the firework display over and Forde missing from the little party.
‘Lord Bentinck sent for him,’ said Falconi. ‘Time to go home, I think.’
‘So soon?’ Charlotte had heard him. ‘The air is so delicious now, can we not stay a little longer?’ She was sparkling with happiness, Beth saw. Why? For whose benefit?
‘I’m on stage tomorrow,’ Beth reminded her. ‘I don’t like to be too late.’
‘Of course not.’ Charlotte was contrite at once. ‘I clean forgot. It’s the Piccini, isn’t it, and you said you needed a run through.’ She rose from the seat she had shared with Peabody and von Achen. ‘You do look tired, Beth. What’s going on at the palace?’
‘I’ll tell you in the morning.’ It came out a little more quelling than she had intended. And, in fact, she had already decided that she was not going to tell even Forde what she had heard. Every instinct told her that her first duty was to the Queen, as one woman to another. To tell Forde that the Queen had as good as confessed to corresponding with Napoleon’s wife could only cause infinite trouble. Had she confessed to writing to the Murats too? Of this, Beth was less sure. The ravings of a drugged, angry woman should not be used in evidence against her. Besides, she told herself, the Queen must surely have said very much the same things to Bentinck himself. She would hear about it in the morning. Normally, she saw no one on the days when she was appearing at the theatre, but tonight she left orders that if Forde should call, he must be admitted.
* * *
But she woke, undisturbed, at her usual hour. Breakfasting in bed, she thought she was actually beginning to get used to the scandalous hours the Sicilians kept. But where was Charlotte? She usually came tapping on the door when breakfast was brought up, and ate hers sociably on the chaise longue. ‘Where is Miss Pennam?’ she asked the maid.
It got her a voluble reply. The signorina had been up for hours, it appeared, and had gone riding, ‘with two gentlemen’. ‘No lady?’ Surely Lisa Falconi had meant to go too.
‘No, signora.’ The woman was shocked, and so in fact was Beth. But at least two escorts were better than one. She found herself hoping that Forde was not one of them. He was bound to visit her today. But the long day dragged on with no sign of either him or Charlotte and she left at last, in a bad temper, for the rehearsal of Piccini’s time-worn comedy, La Ceccina.
