Polonaise (43 page)

‘No. I see. And I see that I have more to thank you for, Mr. Rendel, than I had quite realised. Believe me,' she moved closer to him and held out her hand, ‘I do.'

Paul Genet arrived two days later with the news that Marie Walewska had actually left for Paris. ‘She's a brave woman, one has to recognise that.'

‘Or a little mad,' said the Princess.

‘Maybe just deep in love.' Genet's look aimed this remark at Jenny, who felt herself blushing, and felt Glynde Rendel seeing this. Genet turned to Glynde. ‘May I ask to see this interesting school you have established for the young Prince, Mr. Rendel? I hope the fact that we are officially enemies need not affect us here. In fact, it's possible that I may be able to give you news of England more recent than any you can have had.'

‘I should be most grateful. I've had none since I got here; not much since I left England, and that's a long time ago now.
Is the King truly mad yet? The Prince of Wales Regent and the Whigs in power?'

‘No to both, though it seems impossible that it can be long before the King is officially declared mad. How this will affect the country's government remains to be seen. Would there be time, do you think, for me to see your school before the Princess's dinner hour?'

‘Why, yes, if you wish to. The boys will be at their military exercises.'

‘Most interesting,' said Genet gravely. ‘Do you teach them Russian strategy, or French?'

‘Polish, Monsieur Genet. If you will excuse us, Highness?'

‘They don't seem to like each other very much.' The Princess turned to Jenny after the two young men had left. ‘I do hope they don't actually come to blows.'

In fact, the two young men were seated comfortably enough over glasses of wine, having made a fairly summary tour of the little school and briefly watched the little boys at their drill. ‘I have a letter for you from my master.' Paul Genet reached into the pocket of his coat.

‘I hoped you had.'

‘And another, which he hopes you will be able to get through to Petersburg for him.'

‘So he still hopes for peace?'

‘Yes.'

‘But you're less sure?' Glynde gave him a quick look.

‘Sometimes our hopes deceive us. Tell me, Mr. Rendel, do you believe that if the Prince of Wales becomes Regent he will send at once for the Whigs and make peace with us?'

‘I've always assumed so, but I have an aunt, lives in Brighton, knows the Prince as I do not. She's not so sure. This is a very strange conversation.'

‘Between two enemies? But I have it on my master's authority that you agreed to risk your life, coming here, because his messenger convinced you that your being here would further the cause of peace.'

‘Among other things,' said Glynde.

The autumn days were beginning to draw in. If they were to get to Vinsk before rain made the roads impassable, they must
start as soon as possible, and Jenny and Marylka were busy from morning to night with preparations for the journey and arrangements for the diminished household that would be left behind. To Jenny's relief, she, Marylka and Glynde were to accompany the Princess, but she was less happy about Isobel's decision that the Master at Arms would be left in charge of the school. It was true that he was both the oldest of the masters, and the highest in rank, but he was also almost as passionate a Russian-hater as little Karol, for very similar reasons.

‘Can you not persuade the Princess that it is a dangerous choice?' she asked Paul Genet. ‘She seems to listen to you.'

‘To my master speaking through me. And I am not sure that even he would be able to persuade her to fly in the face of Polish considerations of rank. Miss Peverel,' he had found her sorting linen in the school-house, ‘you have been at work all day; the sun has come out; take a turn in the gardens with me. You look after everyone else; never think about yourself.'

‘Not a very interesting subject.' But she was glad enough to put on bonnet and pelisse and walk down towards the ornamental water with him, remembering, as they went, the day when Casimir had nearly drenched the Tsar with water from the joke fountains. She found herself telling Genet about this, which seemed comic enough now it was all safely in the past.

‘Good God!' he said. ‘And what would have happened to you, Miss Peverel?'

‘To me? What should have?'

‘You'd have been the scapegoat. This was Austrian territory then, so it wouldn't have been Siberia, but I don't like to think … I've never seen the Princess really angry, but I've heard things …'

‘Yes.' She remembered the day the Princess had had Lech whipped. It had very nearly been her own turn then.

‘Miss Peverel.' They were standing side by side now, looking down at autumn leaves, golden in the dark water. ‘Have you thought how close Rendomierz is to the new border between French-held Poland and Russia?'

‘I'd be a fool if I hadn't.'

‘And you're no fool, thank God. I'm going to tell you
something I've told no one else; not even Mr. Rendel, though he asked for my opinion. I told him my master's. Talleyrand still believes there is a chance of peace between France and Russia. Miss Peverel, I don't agree with him. And still less, now I'm here. You must be aware of it too.'

‘There are rumours,' she said reluctantly. ‘Of Russian armies building up beyond the border … Well, this journey the Princess must make tells you something of how the Tsar is thinking.'

‘Yes. Vinsk is close to the frontier too. On the other side. You'll be safer there. A little. Never forget, you're enemy to both France and Russia. What safety for you anywhere, if it does come to war? And, I tell you, if it comes, this is going to be no small skirmish, but war to the death.' He turned to face her, took both her hands in his. ‘Jenny, you know I have always loved you. Marry me; let me take you out of this; home to France with me; where you will be my wife; safe. My master promises us a livelihood.'

‘Ah,' she said. ‘You have Talleyrand's permission now, which you did not have last time we met.'

‘That's true. I longed to speak to you at Erfurt; he saw it; he sees everything; told me if I did, I was no man of his. Well – without him, I'm nothing. I could not have supported you. Now – yes, I have his leave, his blessing.'

‘I wonder why,' she said thoughtfully. ‘He's a strange man, your master. We all dance to his tune. But – I'm sorry.' She realised he had misunderstood her, leapt into hope. ‘Not I; not to this tune. You do me great honour, but I cannot marry you, now or ever. I must just take my chance, here on the dangerous frontier. But I do thank you for asking me … thinking of me …'

‘How can I help it? Jenny, think again. I do truly love you.'

She smiled at him. ‘Truly, but within the limits of your master's permission.'

‘It's true.' It was almost a groan. ‘Oh, Jenny …'

‘Miss Peverel, Monsieur Genet.' She turned away from him to walk back to the house.

The Princess travelled in slow comfort, spending her nights in the lodges her husband had had built, where servants, sent on ahead, had lit fires and prepared lavish picnic meals for the party. When they passed through a village and the peasants came trooping out to kneel in the dust while their mistress drove by, Jenny was appalled by the contrast between their rags and the Princess's luxury. It was something one tended to forget in the oasis of Rendomierz, with its model village and well-dressed servants.

‘I'm glad we have the Brotherhood's blessing for this journey,' she told Glynde Rendel as they enjoyed the last warmth of a fine October day and waited for the
bigos
to heat. ‘Otherwise, I confess, I'd be a little anxious.'

He laughed. ‘Not half so anxious as I would. When I think of the last time I came this way! But I confess I'm glad we have your friend Monsieur Genet to see us across the border. That's a very remarkable man.' He had seen how Genet devoted himself to Jenny's comfort, and drawn his own conclusions.

‘And with remarkable power behind him,' said Jenny drily. ‘You have met Monsieur Talleyrand have you not, Mr. Rendel?'

‘Yes – at Tilsit. Were it not for him, I think I might still be languishing in prison there. I have the greatest respect for him.'

‘Oh, yes,' said Jenny. ‘Such charm – and so frightening. I just wonder if anyone ever dares tell him the truth. Or – no, that's not quite what I mean. Whether, just because he is so immensely cleverer than anyone else, he may not misunderstand the truth when it is told to him. Am I making any sense at all?'

‘Why, yes, I rather think you are.' It was a disconcerting idea to Glynde.

And he was still more taken aback when she went on: ‘It's the strangest thing, but something keeps reminding me of him on this journey. Almost as if he were here with us. Do you think Monsieur Genet might be related to him in some way?'

‘One of his natural sons, you mean?' Glynde surprised her with a harsh laugh. ‘Anything's possible, Miss Peverel. That he is a very favoured follower is not in doubt at all. He has a great future before him, that young man. I spoke to the Princess about Marta,' he went on. ‘I'm afraid with little success. She made her bed, the Princess says …'

‘But she was promised an endowment –'

‘The promises of Princes! Gossamer.'

‘You see all this,' she said, surprising herself. ‘And still –'

‘Love her.' It was almost a groan. ‘I cannot help myself. I adore her.' He could not tell Jenny Peverel how it had all started. ‘Always will. Do you know, fool that I was, when I received her message, last year, in England, I thought …' He stopped; it was too painful; he could not tell her.

‘Of course you did.' She paused for a moment. ‘As she intended you to think.'

‘So I came.' He was facing it with himself as well as with her. ‘And find myself her son's tutor. And,' now his laugh was gentler, more recognisably his, ‘am surprised to find myself enjoying it very much. It's a terrible thing to be without occupation, Miss Peverel.'

‘Yes,' she said. ‘I can imagine, though it's not something that has ever happened to me.'

‘No, indeed. I remember with what loving respect George Richards always spoke of you. But, Miss Peverel, I'm trying to say something to you, as an older brother might. Will you bear with me?'

‘Of course.' She turned a little away, to screw up her eyes against the sunset glow in the west.

‘I'm – anxious for you. Marta's case could so easily be your own. The Princess is a great lady –'

‘But greatly unconcerned about the fate of her servants?'

‘Exactly. Besides, anything could happen here, between France and Russia. Now the frontier has moved, Rendomierz as well as Vinsk is too close to the front line for comfort.'

‘I know.'

‘I think Paul Genet truly loves you. Everything he does and says goes to prove it. Even the Princess has seen.'

‘Yes.' And been surprised, thought Jenny, that when she is in view, anyone else can be noticed. But this was hardly something to say to Glynde Rendel.

‘Why not take him? You're more than a mother to Casimir. Just think how happy you would be with sons of your own.'

‘Little French boys? Little enemies of England? You don't know me very well, do you?' She was grateful to have found this solid ground. ‘You do not seem to be arranging to leave this frontier you tell me is so dangerous.'

‘Of course not. My duty is here; the Princess; the boy –'

‘And you love her, though you warn me against her.'

‘Always.'

‘It's cold.' The sun had sunk behind the dark edge of the forest. ‘The
bigos
should be ready.'

‘Yes. We'd best go in.'

Jenny was glad that they had Paul Genet with them at the frontier. She and Glynde Rendel had both done their best to cure Casimir of his flaming hatred of Russia, but both were anxious as to what might happen if he should imagine any insult to his mother. But everything went smoothly, so that they were saying their farewells to Paul Genet almost before they expected.

‘God bless you,' he held her hand for a long moment. ‘If you should ever need me …'

‘Thank you.' But would Talleyrand let him come? She thought she had had her chance, and lost it. For a little while, she felt very lonely. So far, the Princess had invited one or other of the two young men to join her in her luxurious travelling carriage each day. Now, inevitably, Glynde Rendel was with her all the time, while Jenny did her best to answer Casimir's steady flow of questions about everything he saw that was strange and new. She was surprised to find how much she missed Paul Genet, who had always been at hand to help her down from the carriage, or to guide her over the lumpy road, or just to answer Casimir's questions for a while.

‘Let me ride with the Prince today, Pani Jenny?' Marylka
caught up with her as they shivered their way to the carriages through the first light fall of snow. ‘You look worn out. It's very comfortable in the
kibitka
once you get used to it, and you won't have to talk.' She tucked Jenny in among a pile of furs. ‘Try and get some sleep. You don't look well to me.'

‘I don't feel it! Thank you, Marylka.' She let herself drift off into a light, feverish doze as the awkward carriage bumped its way over the rough road.

She woke suddenly, rigid with fright. Shouts, curses, the crack of a whip up ahead. The
kibitka
had stopped and the driver was shouting at his horses.

‘What is it?' she leaned out of the half-open carriage to ask him.

‘Russian troops, pani.' He spat. ‘They want us off the road, but how can we? And no room to turn the horses either. They should have sent someone on ahead.'