Susan Johnson (20 page)

When the cavalry troop arrived shortly after, the Chechens were induced to speak. Upon hearing Teo was alive and nearby, Duras left Bonnay to finish the interrogation and ran off to search for her.

But he couldn’t find her. The night was almost moonless, dark shadows covered the verges of the road, and the grasses rose knee-high, the hedge adding further gloom to the landscape. He ordered his troopers to fan out on foot, warning them to watch where they walked, wondering if the Chechens’ information could be trusted when Teo wasn’t found after a lengthy search, fearful she was already far away, taken by someone else beyond his reach.

Night gave way to morning as they covered the adjacent fields and forest and ditches, the horizon rimmed with the softest of grays, the moon low in the sky. “We’ll have to move farther down the road,” Duras ordered, fear a knot in his stomach.

One of Vigée’s troopers found Teo, his shout echoing from far down the road. But frightened by the sight of her motionless form, he didn’t dare touch her. The road around him filled up with other troopers, none willing to take responsibility for moving her without Duras’s orders. Teo’s breathing was too faint, her skin deathly pale, the blood on her gown lurid.

A half-mile away when he heard the cry, Duras sprinted back, the sight of his troopers milling on the road alarming. At his approach, the men parted to make way for him, unspoken sympathy in their eyes. And for an awful moment, Duras thought she was dead. A thousand battle memories flooded his mind when he first saw the blood, tragic, appalling images. Quickly dropping to his knees beside her, he tried to find the pulse in her wrist, touched her cheek to see if it was as cold as her hand, found himself breathing again when he first discovered the faint rhythm of her heart in the vein behind her ear. Thank God, he thought, his most anguished fear alleviated. But she was alarmingly still, he reflected, his fingers swiftly untying the bonds on her wrists, lifting the gag from her mouth. Gently turning her head, he untied the blindfold and willed her to open her eyes and gaze at him with recognition.

But she lay still as death.

“We need a doctor! Find a damned doctor!” Duras shouted, shrugging out of his tunic, quickly covering her. “And get blankets!”

“I’m a doctor,” Mingen said, stepping forward.

“How do I know that?” Duras said, eyeing Mingen with suspicion.

“You could wait for one to arrive or take my word for it.”

“I want you to understand,” Duras said, warning and gravity in his tone, “how important she is to me.”

“Yes, sir.” Mingen was already well aware of that. The commanding general of the last functioning French army in the field had abandoned everything to find this woman. “If we could have some blankets. And some privacy,” he delicately added.

The blankets arrived moments later and the troopers drifted off a respectable distance, leaving Duras and Mingen alone.

“She believed she was pregnant,” Duras quietly said, adjusting a folded blanket under Teo’s head for a pillow.

“She may have aborted. Do I have your permission to examine her?”

Duras nodded. “And I want the truth … whatever her condition.”

“Yes, sir.” Mingen realized he was in a very sensitive position. While Duras wanted the truth, in reality he only wanted a palatable truth.

He cautiously checked Teo for broken bones, not wishing to move her if she were suffering from a serious fracture. Her unconsciousness suggested a concussion, but on examination her eyes seemed to discount that diagnosis. “There are no broken bones as far as I can tell,” Mingen declared. “I’d like to have her carried inside where it’s warm.”

A cart with a feather bed was immediately procured and a brief time later, Teo was ensconced in the local barrister’s bed. A maidservant at Mingen’s request brought warm milk and hot water. Instructing Duras to build up the fire, Mingen carefully cut away Teo’s skirt. And under Duras’s watchful eye, he washed away the blood.

“Can you tell if she was with child?” Duras’s voice was hesitant, low.

“It would appear very early in a pregnancy,” Mingen equivocated.

“Could this be her menses?”

“If it is I can’t stop it. If she’s in the early stages of pregnancy, however,” he asserted, “I may be able to stop the bleeding. Would you like me to try?”

“There’s a choice?”

“I know of a drug that may work. I can’t guarantee it.” Although he understood there were men who would prefer their mistress not carry her pregnancy to full term.

“She wants this child.”

“Regardless, we can simply let nature take its course,” Mingen delicately said, taking note of Duras’s noninvolvement in the last sentence.

“The bleeding would eventually stop?”

“If she’s miscarrying, generally yes.”

Mingen’s small reservation brought Duras’s gaze back from contemplating Teo’s silent form. “Why is she still unconscious?”

“Her body temperature dropped quite low. I don’t know if you noticed, but most of the blood on her legs was dried. As her temperature lowered, the bleeding diminished. She’s been cold for some time.”

“She wasn’t dressed for the frigid temperatures,” Duras murmured, tucking the blanket around her more closely. “Will this unconscious state persist?”

“I can’t find any obvious concussion. Once her temperature’s restored, she should wake.”

“After that, when could the countess be moved? Unfortunately, I need to be in Zurich with all haste.” Duras’s voice had taken on a crispness; his commitments were urgent.

“It depends on whether you wish me to stop her bleeding. If I give her the potion, I’d recommend not moving her for perhaps a week.”

“A week.” Duras’s voice was scarcely audible.

Mingen waited, understanding how critical was the timetable of events driving Duras, personally impacted by the general’s decision, the fate of his king and Prussia in the balance, as well.

“She’s convinced of this baby,” Duras said with a sigh.

“Some women recognize these changes very soon.”

“I can’t imagine how she could know after such a brief interval.”

“May I ask how brief a time?”

Duras swiftly calculated. “A little over two weeks.”

“I see,” Mingen said, concealing his astonishment.

“Jesus,” Duras whispered, his gaze on Teo, the pressure of affairs intense, the archduke perhaps already on the march. He touched her cheek with the back of his fingers, drew them gently down the graceful curve of her jaw, stood in reflection for a moment. “Stop the bleeding,” he finally said, his voice soft, and then turning to Mingen, he repeated in a normal tone, “Stop the bleeding. We’ll stay here until she’s well.”

He was risking much for love of this woman, Mingen thought, genuinely shocked at Duras’s decision. But one didn’t question a general, certainly not one of Duras’s stature.

“I’d appreciate your staying on with us,” Duras went on. “Does that require some communique through diplomatic channels?”

“It depends on the length of time, sir.”

“Until the countess has a baby.”

“This baby?”

“
A
baby,” Duras plainly said, willing to give her whatever she wanted in gratitude for her life.

“That length of time would require approval, sir.”

“Very well. I’ll see to it.” He nodded his head in acknowledgment. “Now make my Teo well.”

The potion of balm, burnet and yarrow infused in hot milk was slowly spooned into Teo’s mouth, the two men
taking turns with the laborious process, the room heated to torrid levels to warm Teo. Both men had dispensed with their shirts and even then were visibly sweating. The role of nursemaid was so unusual for a man of Duras’s rank that Mingen expressed his astonishment in an unguarded moment.

They’d both been up all day and half the night, working side by side to succor Teo, and a comfortable rapport had developed between the two men of such diverse origins. “She’d do the same for me,” Duras said, setting down the empty cup.

“An egalitarian viewpoint for a man of your consequence.”

“I consider myself fortunate to have found her.”

“Today, you mean.”

“Yes … and two weeks ago.” Duras gazed for a moment at the woman who’d abruptly entered his life and introduced him to the wonder of love. “I know how to fight battles and save France from its enemies,” he said, half to himself. “That’s all I’ve ever done.” Dropping into a chair beside the bed, he shifted into an exhausted sprawl. “Now I’m not sure I’d know how to live without Teo.”

“I’ve never been in love.” Mingen stood at the foot of the bed, leaning wearily against the bedpost.

“Nor had I.” Duras smiled, recalling Teo’s words. “She told me I was. I didn’t believe her.” A faint smile graced his mouth. “We both thank you for saving her child. She’ll be pleased.”

“The countess must lie very still for a few days.”

“I’ll see that she does.”

“And your superiors. How will they regard your delay in Neuwilen?”

“I don’t have superiors, Herr Mingen,” Duras softly replied, regarding the Prussian from under half-lowered lashes.

“Forgive me, sir.” Mingen had overlooked Duras’s distinctive reputation. His talents allowed him wide latitude; even the Directory was never sure he would obey their orders.

“We’ll stay here until Teo is well,” Duras affirmed. “Or until the military situation demands”—he smiled faintly—“a change of scenery.”

“The archduke may march.”

Duras’s gaze took on a bland neutrality. “Not if Thugut and his cronies have their say.”

“A fortunate rivalry for you.”

“Dealing with the Austrian high command is always advantageous to us—they’re mired in bureaucracy. Nor do they have resolute generals.”

“You have your Jourdans, as well.”

Duras sighed. “At least he’s finished now.”

“May I ask you about Korsakov?”

“No.” Blunt and curt.

“He doesn’t deserve to lead a corps,” Mingen offered, conscious he’d overstepped his bounds.

“Nor do most of the Russian staff,” Duras said, his voice neutral once again.

“True. Will you win?”

Duras smiled. “Of course. Do you doubt it?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I did.”

“Exactly.”

“So you knew I’d stay to help you.”

“You didn’t have a choice.” Duras understood the art of war and the underlying national agendas. “But thank you nonetheless. You could have been less honorable and found an excuse to go back.”

“The king needs you alive.”

“And I need Teo alive.”

“Then we can help each other.”

“A devil’s pact,” Duras said with a faint smile.

“I like to think of it as a humanitarian gesture,” Mingen replied, his smile equally sardonic.

“Call it whatever you like as long as Teo regains her health.”

The bottom line was clearly set.

Duras was sleeping in his chair beside the bed, Mingen resting on a chaise near the window, when the small rustle of bedclothes brought them both awake. Duras came to his feet in a bound, his gaze alert, sweeping over Teo with a swift scrutiny. And then his expression relaxed and he smiled. A flush of color brightened her cheeks.

“You look better,” he softly said.

“You came,” she whispered.

“I wish I’d found you sooner.” Sitting down beside her, he brushed her cheek with his fingertips.

Her eyes filled with tears; she knew.

“Don’t cry, darling,” he murmured, afraid to touch her, softly patting her hand under the blankets. “You’ll feel better in a few days. We’re going to stay here until you’re well.”

But her tears only increased, pouring down her cheeks, and leaning close, careful not to jar her, Duras tenderly kissed her.

“I lost the baby.” Anguish vibrated in her quiet words.

He shook his head, a small, unequivocal movement. “Not yet.” The sudden hope in her eyes tore at his heart. “Herr Mingen is optimistic,” he said, standing upright, and as her gaze shifted behind him, he motioned the doctor forward. “Tell her,” he said.

“I’ve given you a drug that’s stopped the bleeding.”

A small worry line appeared between her dark brows. “Has the baby been harmed?”

“One can’t be completely certain, but I don’t believe it was. And if you’re very careful for the next few days—”

“Yes, yes. Andre,” she softly cried, turning to Duras, flushed with exultation, “did you hear? I shall be ever so good and not move a muscle.” Her sudden smile warmed his heart and he wondered how he’d ever lived without her.

“It’s the best of news, darling. And Herr Mingen has agreed to stay on as your physician.”

Her gaze swiveled back to Mingen. “How wonderful,” she gaily said. “I shall be your most obedient patient.”

“The pleasure is mine, Your Excellency.”

“Teo, please. I’d prefer that.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Would you like something to eat?” Duras interposed, references to her husband generally distressful. “We’ve a cook of sorts downstairs.”

“Food sounds wonderful.”

“Now I’m sure you’re on the mend,” Duras teased. “Although I warn you the menu is limited.”

“Where are we?”

“A half day east of Felben.” He saw the flicker of anguish in her eyes and knew the harrowing memories of her abduction were afflicting her. “Would you like
me to send for Tamyr?” he asked, wanting to offer her comfort.

“Would you?” Pleasure flooded her glance.

“She could be here in a few days.”

“You’re the most adorable man,” she murmured, a husky undertone in her voice.

“Am I?” he said with amusement.

“But only for me,” she said, lush and low.

“Only for you,” he softly agreed.

“Can you stay with me?” Her gaze flicked to Mingen, who had retreated at their murmurings.

“I’m here for the duration. Let’s ask the doctor if you may sit up for dinner.”

Herr Mingen agreed she could, but warned against any additional exertions. “I must stress that,” he emphasized, directing an earnest glance at Duras.

“I’m warned, Herr Doctor,” Duras pleasantly replied. “Rest assured I understand the consequences.”

“I’ll move my things into the room next door,” Mingen said, “now that your ladyship is in more vigorous health.”