Empire of Unreason (7 page)

“Sir, I must say you did your pupil proud. Benjamin treated me thus when we met the first time. It was a miracle that we met a second.”

“Again, your pardon, Madame, for I detect from your melodic accent you are neither English nor French.”

“Lenka is Bohemian, Voltaire. We met at the court of Karl VI.”

“That was a lucky court for you, then. I had no imagining that Holy Roman soil could bring forth such lovely roses.”

“You may stop seducing my wife, Monsieur,” Franklin cautioned.

“I am sorry,” Voltaire said, touching his fingers to his breast. “But what tragedy to be instantly smitten by the wife of a dear friend—”

“What tragedy,” Lenka interrupted in her lilting accent, “that I must be drowned in honey. Stop it, I beg you.”

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Franklin thought he detected the faintest hint of disingenuousness in her protest.

“Beside the fact,” Lenka went on, “I have come to tell Benjamin that he is wanted down at the statehouse.”

“For what purpose?”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Then you have not heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Ah!” Voltaire said, holding up a finger. “The thing I was about to tell you.”

“Well?” Franklin asked impatiently, looking from the Frenchman to his wife and back.

“Did you did not hear the great clamor a while ago?” Voltaire asked.

“I heard it. Did they ring the bells for you, Voltaire, when you stepped ashore?

Am I to be present at a ceremony celebrating French wits?”

“Not for me those bells and horns, but for a fellow passenger. James Francis Edward Stuart.”

“James—the Pretender?”

Voltaire nodded. “It seems,” he drawled, “you have a king again.”

5.

EMPIRE OF UNREASON

Snares

“Stand up,” Adrienne said, her voice harsh even in her own ears. “Identify yourself or die.”

An unsteady shadow rose. “It is me, Mademoiselle,” a female voice whispered.

“Please do not strike me down. I knew not where else to come.”

Adrienne uncovered the lanthorn near her bed, and light papered the room.

“Elizavet?” That made sense. She had a key, and the guards would not stop her.

The young woman collapsed to the floor. She still wore the red velvet gown from the ball, but it was stained, torn, and wet. Her black hair tumbled in disarray, her face was streaked with the tracks of tears.

“My God, girl, what brought you here? Without a coat, in that state? It must be almost a league to the palace.”

“I ran, lady. I could not—they will kill me or put me in a convent! Please, you must protect me!”

Adrienne rose and shrugged into the silk dressing gown that lay puddled near her bed. She knelt by the tsarevna. “Be calm,” she whispered. “Be calm, and tell me what has happened.”

Before Elizavet could answer, someone hammered on the door. “Adrienne, it’s Veronique. I must see you, now.”

“Are you alone?” Adrienne called.

“Yes. Though I may not be for long.”

“Come in, then.”

The door swung open and Crecy stepped in. She, too, still wore her ball gown, EMPIRE OF UNREASON

but had thrown a sword belt over it. She carried a
kraftpistole
in one hand.

She took in the two of them and the room with a single glance, shut the door, and barred it.

“What in the name of God is going on?” Adrienne demanded.

“A coup,” Crecy said, simply. “Princess, are you well? Did they hurt you?”

“No. I mean, I’m well,” Elizavet said. She was still shaking, however, and Adrienne feared the girl had caught a chill.

“It’s the Dolgorukys and the Golitsyns,” Crecy explained. “They’ve taken the palace.”

“Menshikov?”

“Made prisoner. They waited until everyone was drunk. There was some fighting, but not much. Much of Menshikov’s guard was in on it.” She shook her head. “This isn’t good at all. I knew nothing of this, nor did Hercule. Nor any of our spies.” She nodded at Elizavet. “And they’re looking everywhere for
her.”

“You’ve woken my guard, I presume?”

“Of course. They’ve already taken their positions. Hercule is on his way.”

“What can we expect from this?”

Crecy lifted her hands in an I-don’t-know gesture.

“Thank you, Veronique,” Adrienne said. “Go do what you must. I’ll join you soon.”

Crecy nodded and left.

When she was gone, Adrienne rang for her maid. The girl appeared a moment later, rubbing sleep from her eyes. They widened wakefully, however, when she saw Elizavet.

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“Anna, fetch the tsarevna some clothes. I think mine will fit her—get one of my hunting dresses. And bring hot water.” The air in the room was already wanning, as the djinni excited the atmosphere at her command. “And bring my black gown, too.”

She stood with Crecy, watching the line of men falling into ranks around the house. The sky had lightened to gray.

“Those are the old Strelitzi uniforms,” Crecy remarked, “the ones the tsar banned.” She touched the glass. “You are certain of this window?”

“A cannon could not breach it,” Adrienne assured her.

Crecy rested her hand on the hilt of her broadsword. She had donned her own uniform—full-skirted coat, waistcoat, and breeches of Adrienne’s Lorraine guard. Her copper hair, unbound, flowed from beneath a black tricorn, and a cravat was wrapped tightly about her neck.

“Hercule seemed upset,” Crecy ventured. “And not about the coup.”

“He broke with me last night,” Adrienne told her.

“Really? What prompted that, after all this time?” Her voice rang with its accustomed mockery, but when Adrienne didn’t immediately answer, her tone softened. “Are
you
upset?”

“I—should not be,” Adrienne concluded.

“Well, no, not in a logical world. After all, you could have married him.” She cocked her head quizzically. “Why didn’t you—marry him? You never said.”

Adrienne wrinkled her brow. “Because I was not
done
.”

“What do you mean?”

The troops were shifting below, and both women watched carefully. Adrienne preferred that—she did not need to make eye contact.

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“I think you know very well what I mean. A woman may accomplish something, if she does not marry. We two have proved that, haven’t we? With no false modesty, I can count myself the foremost female scholar in Russia—perhaps in Europe, given its sorry state. I have a personal guard, a fine house, students, things of my own. And you—how many openly female officers command troops? Marriage robs a woman of that. To marry is to become the appendage of a man, yes?
His
wife, the mother of
his
children. Veronique, I fought too hard and sacrificed too much—and in the end, gained too much—to throw it away on marriage.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Crecy shrug. “Some would argue a married woman might achieve
something.”

“Elizabeth of England. Christina of Sweden. Ninon de Lenclos. None of them married, and for good reason.”

“Christina wed.”

“Yes. After giving up her throne, and all her power, and her volition. She proves my point, you see?” Adrienne bit her lip. “When I was affianced to King Louis—when I was his mistress—Crecy, I cannot tell you how much I hated that, hated being so completely in his power. I swore it would not happen again.”

“Surely Hercule—”

“Is one of the best men I have ever known,” Adrienne replied. “But it is not just him—it is the world. Once I have the mark of Eve upon me, nothing will be the same, no matter how tolerant Hercule makes himself. And as much as I trust Hercule, I do not trust him
that
much—not with all my property and everything that I am.” She smiled thinly at Crecy. “Remember, my dear? We are of Lilith, not of Eve.”

Crecy chuckled. “I am a poor devil’s advocate.”

“But not a bad devil,” Adrienne observed, forcing a smile.

“So now you need a new lover, I think,” Crecy said lightly. “Shall I pick one out EMPIRE OF UNREASON

for you?”

“I think I shall go dry for a time. Even lovers can be tiresome, it seems.”

Crecy made a disgusted sound. “Do not play that with me,” she said very softly.

“You may fool others—you may even fool Hercule—but you do not fool me.

Marriage or not, you love him. You wept for three days when he married. I suspect you wept last night.”

“Nonsense. Look—is that Prince Golitsyn?” Adrienne pointed to a man on horseback, approaching the front entrance.

“It is,” Crecy replied.

Adrienne pursed her lips. “Admit him. No one else. He may remain armed.”

She went to her reception hall and waited.

She did not have long to wait. Two of her Lorraine guards showed Golitsyn into the room. He bowed stiffly, fingered his thick, graying mustache, and cleared his throat.

“Milady,” he said.

“How is it with you, Prince Golitsyn?” Adrienne asked, remaining in her armchair. She did not offer the prince a seat.

“As you must know by now, it has been a busy night.”

Adrienne nodded. “It’s early to pay a call on me, however, and with so many uninvited friends.”

“I wanted to personally explain matters, milady, so that you would not worry unduly.”

“How very kind of you, Prince Golitsyn. Do go on.”

“It is quite simple, really. When Tsar Peter left, almost a year ago, he only EMPIRE OF UNREASON

intended to be absent for a few months. He surely could not have meant for Menshikov to remain regent for this long. We waited patiently, hoping the tsar would return before Menshikov embezzled the entire treasury, but now we can wait no longer. Serious matters are afoot overseas, and the empire is threatened from within and from without. Moreover, we now have intelligence that the tsar is dead, and all his people with him.”

“Menshikov said nothing of this to me.”

“Menshikov has tried to hush it up. Perhaps he even had something to do with it. He intended to hold on to the throne and perhaps name himself tsar. So, we have taken steps to prevent this. I am happy to say that there was little bloodshed.”

“And who have you named heir?”

“Anna, the duchess of Courland, of course, is the natural choice.”

“Anna is the tsar’s niece. Elizavet is his daughter. What of her?”

A troubled look passed across Golitsyn’s brow. “The tsarevna, as you know, is a bit—ephemeral. She has little interest in governing and probably little talent for it.”

“What shall become of her, then?”

Golitsyn cocked his head. “Is she here?” he asked.

“Who is and is not in my house is not your business, no matter how many soldiers you bring with you. Please be so good as to answer my question.”

“For her own good, we thought to place her in a quiet place, away from all of this commotion, where she might receive the moral instruction she direly needs.”

“A convent,” Adrienne clarified.

“Yes, milady.”

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She steepled her fingers beneath her chin. “What do you want of me? What will become of the Academy of Sciences?”

“Why, nothing, milady. That is what I came to reassure you of. Nothing shall change for you or for the academy, not as long as you wish it to remain as it is.”

“In other words, you wish my support of this coup.”

“That would be best, of course,” Golitsyn replied. “You are highly regarded by everyone.”

“But not so highly regarded as to be consulted before shots were fired.”

“If more people had known about this, lady, more shots would have been fired, I assure you. And if we failed, I did not want to see you implicated.”

“I never knew how thoughtful you were, Prince. This is truly a revelation.” She picked up a fan and toyed with it for a moment. “I have no love for Menshikov,” she admitted, “and Anna is a suitable choice for empress. But Elizavet will remain in Saint Petersburg, under my eye. I am her tutor, and I know what the tsar wants for her.”

“Mademoiselle—”

“I can cause you much trouble, sir, and am prepared to. Or I can cause you none at all.”

He colored, smoothed his mustache once again, and nodded briefly. “You will come to the coronation?”

“In my best gown.”

“Very well, then, milady. May I wish you good day?”

“If it
were
day.”

She watched him go. A few moments later, Crecy and Hercule joined her.

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“I want Elizavet’s things moved here,” Adrienne said. “I do not trust them.”

“And about the rest? About the academy?” Crecy asked.

“Why shouldn’t that be true?”

Hercule cleared his throat. He could not seem to meet her eyes. “Things are not as simple as the prince made them out to be, of course. The tsar’s reforms have never been popular, most especially with the old aristocracy like the Golitsyns. They are part and parcel with the Old Believers. If the tsar does not return, they will begin dismantling the tsar’s progress, you may be certain.

Already the Strelitzi are back, many wearing beards, which the tsar outlawed.

The academy may follow.”

“You forget,” Adrienne said, “the Academy of Sciences has become a holy pursuit. We have quite convinced the church that our science is that of the angels and the saints. How can they go against that?”

Hercule stared at his hands. “Do not underestimate the Old Believers, or think that you understand them. Most especially do not underestimate their hatred of the tsar. So many of their heads have rolled in the snow—even saints and angels are not proof against hatred. And if they ever discover how you and the tsar have deceived them—”

“Perhaps they already have,” Crecy interrupted.

“What can you mean?”

“I say, what if they have? If they know that for ten years you have had your djinni masquerading as saints, appearing in chapels, working miracles—there are many in the academy who might let such a thing slip.”

“Then why have they taken no action—Ah!”

“Yes. Can it be a coincidence that you were attacked on the very day of the coup? Someone feared you would support Menshikov. They fear you still, for the tales of what you can do are exaggerated even beyond what you are capable EMPIRE OF UNREASON