The Ravishing of Lady Mary Ware (41 page)

For the first twenty miles, while passing through the zone strongly held by Murat's cavalry, he wore his uniform; then, when he judged himself to be well into no-man's-land, he rode into a wood, unpacked his valise, and changed into the civilian suit he had been wearing when the French arrived in Vilna. Back on the road again, he kept a sharp look-out for patrols of Cossacks. He felt fairly confident that, if challenged, he could satisfy anyone who questioned him, as three months among the Russians in the spring had enabled him to become fluent in that language. But junior officers and N.C.O.s could, at times, prove stupid and dangerous, so he was anxious to avoid having to give an account of himself.

In the next two hours he saw three groups of horsemen in the distance, but managed to keep well away from
them, and none of them gave chase. That evening he halted at Tver, and at the hostelry there gave himself out to be a Lithuanian timber merchant. The following night he spent at Volochek, then got up very early the next morning to cover the long stretch to Chudova. From there it was not, for him, a hard day's ride to St. Petersburg, and he entered the capital late on the afternoon of October 10th.

Having handed his horse over to an ostler at the Laughing Tartar, he went into the hostelry to refresh himself, and learned that the Czar was in residence at the Winter Palace. An hour later he was there and had sent up his name. He had to wait until past eight o'clock, then a Chamberlain summoned him to the presence.

Alexander gave him a smiling greeting, extended his hand to be kissed and said, ‘Mr. Brook, we congratulate you; and upon two counts. Firstly on having survived the appalling slaughter of the past five months. Secondly, on having succeeded in returning to us. We hoped you would, but feared you might find it too dangerous an enterprise.'

Roger returned the smile. ‘Sire, I have been awaiting a favourable opportunity; for there would have been no sense in my setting out with a good prospect of being killed. But fortune has been most kind to me, I come to Your Imperial Majesty now as the envoy of the Emperor.'

‘Well, well!' The Czar gave a hearty laugh. ‘You are the cleverest fellow that ever we did meet.'

Roger did not deny it, but said, ‘I think, Sire, the Emperor was influenced in his choice of me because he knows that Your Imperial Majesty has done me the honour to receive me on previous occasions.'

‘And in what way can we be of service to your … er … master?'

With equal irony, Roger replied, ‘Merely by acknowledging that he has fought a victorious campaign, and
again entering into an alliance with him; but this time agreeing to accept him as your overlord.'

They both laughed, then Alexander's blue eyes grew serious and he said firmly, ‘We stand by the declaration we made to our people. We would sooner grow a beard and live on potatoes than make peace as long as a single French soldier remains on Russian soil. Now tell us how things are in Moscow.'

For the next quarter of an hour Roger described the state of the city and gave the approximate strength of the enemy forces based on it. He concluded by saying:

‘During the past weeks the supply trains that were intended to support the Grand Army during its advance have come up. There were also considerable stores left behind in the city. These have restored to health both men and horses. But they cannot last indefinitely. Within a few weeks now the Emperor will be driven into taking a decision. His army has been so reduced that he could not order another advance with any hope of success. Therefore he must do one of two things: either winter in Moscow and risk his army starving until it is so weak that it could easily be overwhelmed, or endeavour to fight his way back to Poland.'

The Czar nodded. ‘Yes, we have him. Whichever course he adopts his defeat is now certain. How right the Prince Royal of Sweden was in advising us to adopt the scorched-earth policy. He is also convinced that, should Napoleon decide to abandon Moscow, we shall have him at our mercy. We will harass him every step of the way, and ice and snow will do the rest.'

Roger agreed, then said, ‘It is, Sire, now several months since I have heard any news out of England. Would Your Imperial Majesty be gracious enough to inform me if any events of importance have taken place?'

‘Indeed, yes. There has been a change of government. In May Mr. Perceval had the misfortune to be assassinated.
We have no details, but gather that it was by the hand of a madman who had some private grudge against him. He has been succeeded as Prime Minister by Lord Liverpool, who has retained Lord Castlereagh as Foreign Secretary.'

Giving a slight shrug, Roger commented, ‘A sad business, Sire. But the change should be all to the good. Mr. Perceval was an upright and kindly man, but not very forceful. I think that Lord Liverpool, particularly with Castlereagh to aid him, will press the war more vigorously. How stands the prospect of Your Imperial Majesty entering into an alliance with England?'

‘We signed a peace in July, so are now allies.'

‘That is good news indeed, Sire.'

Getting up from his desk, the Czar walked over to a buhl cabinet, unlocked it and took from it a ribbon to which was attached an enamel star set with small brilliants. Turning, he said:

‘We would not have you think us ungrateful, Mr. Brook, for bringing us such good tidings. This is the Order of St. Anne and we make you a Chevalier of it.' He then passed the ribbon over Roger's head and round his neck.

Greatly delighted, Roger went down on one knee, kissed the Czar's hand and expressed his gratitude. Receiving such a decoration could hardly be compared to being made a Duke, but he had not even considered attempting to earn the reward offered by Napoleon. Next moment his happiness was abruptly doused, as Alexander spoke again:

‘And now, Mr. Brook, return as speedily as you can to Moscow. Give Napoleon our reply to his request that we should enter into negotiations, then endeavour to find out the line of retreat that he intends his army to take should he decide to evacuate Moscow. This could be of great importance to us. We do not ask you to risk yourself by
endeavouring to come again to St. Petersburg. But you could easily hide yourself when the French leave Moscow, then give such information as you have obtained to the first of our Generals to enter the city.'

Having got safely away from the Grand Army, Roger was most averse to returning to it. He had left England the previous December, expecting to be away in Sweden for only a few weeks; but between them Bernadotte and the Czar had already prevented him from going home for ten months. He would have protested and pleaded to be spared this new task; but by decorating him Alexander had skilfully entrapped him and made him feel that he could not decently refuse to be of further service. Stifling his annoyance as best he could, he again kissed the Czar's hand and bowed himself backward out of the room.

Roger would have liked to remain in St. Petersburg for a few days. But he knew that all his younger friends would have gone to the war, and that if he called on the older ones it would soon get to the ears of the Czar that he had disobeyed the Imperial injunction to return to Moscow as speedily as possible; so he reluctantly decided to take the road again the following morning.

He had no means of knowing whether Napoleon would elect to submit his army to semi-starvation by remaining in Moscow throughout the winter, or if he would decide on a withdrawal, at least to Smolensk; but he thought the latter more probable, as it would greatly shorten the distance supply trains from Poland would have to cover.

In either case food was going to be extremely short, and even the Emperor's entourage would have to make do on meagre rations. Concerned as ever about his own material well-being—which more than once had saved his life—Roger debated with himself what foodstuff he could buy in St. Petersburg that was easily portable and had a high quality for sustaining vigour. Eventually he decided on marzipan, as it was composed solely of sugar
and almonds, a compound hardly to be bettered for stimulating energy.

Leaving his hostelry he walked to the great, covered bazaar. Under the scores of small domes, an incredible variety of things could be bought there: food of all kinds, weapons, clothes, furs, jewels and a multitude of other items. Easing his way through the crowds of haggling people, he found a sweet-seller who had a number of large slabs of marzipan from which he cut off pieces according to the quantity required.

Having tasted a sample and judged the quality to be satisfactory, Roger asked the vendor to weigh his whole stock. Much surprised, the man complied. It came to eleven and a quarter kilos. Being of the opinion that during the coming months such a reserve of food might be of more value than pistols, Roger had it in mind to store the marzipan in his pistol holsters, even if he had to sacrifice one pistol and stick the other through his sash; so he enquired the price of the marzipan. The man did a quick calculation on his abacus and gave it him. After several minutes of bargaining, Roger got it reduced by a third, produced the money and had the sweetmeat packed up.

As it was being handed to him he distinctly heard Georgina's voice. That had happened on a few previous occasions when he had been in great danger. Although she was unconscious of it, the strange psychic link between them had enabled her to warn him and inspire him as to how best to escape the peril he was in. Now she was saying:

‘Look to your right! Roger, be quick! Look to your right!'

Amazed as he was that in his present harmless occupation any danger should be threatening him, his hand nevertheless flew to his sword hilt, and he swivelled round as she had directed him.

No villainous figure was about to come at him with a
knife, or was aiming a pistol at him. The only person at the next stall was a short woman, wearing the clothes of a Russian bourgeoise and a scarf that partially hid her brown hair. She had just completed the purchase of a pair of soft leather boots. As she handed the money across the stall to pay for them she was only ten feet away from him. He gave a gasp. It seemed incredible, but he could not possibly be mistaken. She was the girl who, before her marriage, had been Lady Mary Ware.

Next moment, the girl had taken her parcel and turned away. Roger sprang after her, grabbed her by the arm and cried:

‘Mary! What in heaven's name are you doing here?'

Swinging round she stared at him. Her green eyes opened wide and she dropped her parcel. Both of them stooped to pick it up and bumped their heads together. Laughing, they drew back, and Mary exclaimed:

‘But you! How come you to be in St. Petersburg?'

He shook his head and put a finger to his lips. ‘I'll tell you later. But by what extraordinary coincidences we meet. Last summer in Richmond Park when I did not even know that you were back in England, and now here, of all places.'

‘There was nothing extraordinary about our happening upon each other outside your home, but to do so here is, I agree, passing strange.' Suddenly Mary's pretty face became very grave and she went on, ‘Oh, Roger, I cannot say how pleased I am to see you. I am in trouble; most grievous trouble.'

He smiled. ‘Then you must tell me of it. I doubt not that I can find a remedy and would be most pleased to do so.'

‘Not here. We can't talk here, and I'd prefer not to take you to the place where I am dwelling.'

‘We'll go to the hostelry where I am lying, then, the Laughing Tartar. ‘Tis one of the best in St. Petersburg.'

Roger collected his twenty-four pounds of marzipan, gave his free arm to Mary and they walked to his inn. In those times no hotelier ever dreamed of questioning the use a gentleman made of the chamber he had hired; so Roger took Mary straight upstairs to his bedroom.

Throwing his heavy parcel on the bed, he settled Mary in an elbow chair, poured for them both glasses of
rabinowka
—a liqueur made from blackberries, to which he was partial—and said, ‘Now, tell me the worst, and we'll see in what way I can help you.'

She gave a heavy sigh. ‘Roger, I am in desperate straits. I am marooned here, and cannot get home because I have no money.'

He raised his eyebrows. ‘I thought your husband was a rich merchant. But let that wait, and start at the beginning. How in the world do you come to be in Russia at all?'

‘I, too, believed Mr. Wicklow to be a rich man,' she replied sadly. ‘And, until a few years ago, he was. But, as is the case with many other merchants, Bonaparte's Continental System brought about his ruin. When I married him he was already heavily in debt. It was not until later that I learned that. At the time he had hopes of mending his fortune; but, alas, they did not mature. His principal trade had always been with Russia. This spring his creditors were pressing him so hard that he feared to be made bankrupt and thrown into the Debtors' Prison. He then decided on one last, desperate venture. Secretly, he sold our house and all its contents to a Jew, on condition that the man should not take possession until we were gone from London.

‘With the money Mr. Wicklow bought a cargo of such goods as are always easily saleable on the Russian market. He told me nothing of all this, but said I must accompany
him on the voyage. As I have ever delighted in sea voyages, and seeing foreign parts, I made no objection. All went well until we entered the Gulf of Finland. There was still much ice about. In the night a storm blew up, and our ship was driven into an iceberg. It was not a large berg, but must have had a big, jagged point below the water. It holed the ship. The sea gushed into the hold and she listed dangerously. The men worked desperately at the pumps; but it was of no avail. Within an hour the ship, with all our cargo, went down.'

‘Oh, my dear,' Roger shook his head. ‘What evil fortune for you.'

‘Alas, I have not told you the worst. Half-frozen from the icy water, we succeeded in getting ashore. Some fisher-folk succoured us most generously and did what they could for us in their poor huts. We were no great distance from St. Petersburg, and when we were somewhat recovered made our way here. The people at the English Factory—that is the great, enclosed area with many warehouses in which our merchants store their goods—took us in.'