Susan Johnson (27 page)

“Let us dearly hope not, my stupid goose. We need him to hold the army in check for us.” Sighing, Talleyrand held out his arms. “Come here, my pretty bonbon, and fuck me. I always think more clearly after an orgasm.”

After speaking to Barras that evening, Talleyrand discovered that Duras’s mistress was not only living in seclusion but was receiving no visitors. So when he and Claudine left for their social call the following forenoon, their entourage included a half-dozen postilions and three flunkies, enough support staff to see that they gained entrance to the countess’s drawing room.

“What a long, tedious journey this is,” Claudine complained before they’d even left the outskirts of Paris. “I never understood what Andre saw in this
distant
place, this hinterland. It’s impossible to get an ice or a decent coffee and certainly there’s not a soul worth talking to.” Glancing from left to right as the open barouche bowled down the road, she disregarded completely the sublime summer landscape, the fresh morning sun, the scent of flowers in the air.

“Perhaps he communed with nature like our mad Rousseau.”

“God knows what he did out there,” she sullenly declared, a frown marring the porcelain perfection of her features. “I refused to set foot in the house.”

“Maybe he kept it for his doxies, my dear, and preferred you not inhabit it.”

She gave him a scornful glance. “Really, Charles, have you been hibernating since your return?”
¹⁷
Women don’t interest Andre long enough for him to bring them to his house.”

“Does he fish?” Talleyrand incidentally inquired.

“He might. Manton sends him rods.”

“Then he may spend his time in completely innocuous pursuits.”

“A touch of the cleric still clings to you, dear uncle. How moralizing that sounds,” she noted with an arch glance. “Why should I be concerned how he spends his time?”

“You needn’t, of course,” Talleyrand drawled, “unless he chooses to spend it in court eliminating you from his life.”

“That would be the only exception,” she silkily agreed. “We must see that this strumpet is sent away.”

“Her dismissal may not curtail Andre’s plans for a divorce.”

“Of course it will,” Claudine replied. “What other reason would he have if not that?”

“Female intuition?” Talleyrand mocked.

“Call it what you will, Charles, it’s true,” Claudine retorted, confident of her assessment. “Will you threaten her?”

“I’d prefer discussing this all with a degree of courtesy, Claudine. So be warned, your temper isn’t allowed this afternoon.” A skilled diplomat, Talleyrand never raised his voice or insisted when persuasion better served his purposes.

“Yes, yes … you needn’t take that tone with me,” she huffily replied, casting him a sulky glance.

“Don’t pout, darling. You’re too old for that jejune pose.”

“At least I’m not as old as Madame Grand,” she tartly retorted.

Talleyrand smiled, too experienced to be drawn into a juvenile row. “Are we a bit out of sorts this afternoon, my dear? Let your dear uncle take care of this unfortunate situation, and once we have Duras back under the conjugal roof, we’ll both be in better spirits.” Barras had been as concerned as Talleyrand at news of Duras’s divorce plans. With timing so critical, their plans couldn’t afford sudden
changes. And players like Duras were essential. “Why don’t we see what the Countess Korsakova would like in exchange for leaving Paris and returning to the remote country of her origins.”

Mingen tried to turn them away at the door, explaining the countess was sleeping, but Talleyrand said, “We won’t take more than a few minutes of her time. The future of the country’s at stake.” He gently added, “I must insist.” And the two bulky retainers standing a short distance away glared at Mingen with distinct hostility.

The man was intent on shoving his way in if necessary, Mingen realized, and their establishment was staffed by only a few old retainers. Duras had misconstrued the amount of interest his lover would invoke. “I’ll see if I can wake the countess.”

“We’d appreciate your effort,” Talleyrand pleasantly replied.

When Mingen returned to tell them Teo would soon be down, he found them already installed in the drawing room.

“I can’t stand for long on my poor leg,” Talleyrand unctuously said from the comfort of a down-cushioned fauteuil. “I hope you don’t mind.”

On the way back downstairs, Mingen had taken a small pistol from his room, and the feel of it in his coat pocket gave him a certain sense of security. “The countess will see you soon,” he said, ignoring the obvious hypocrisy.

“Send coffee in,” Claudine ordered, lounging on a chaise like a voluptuous, blond Cleopatra. “Iced if you please,” she demanded.

“The countess gives instructions to the servants,” Mingen retorted, unmoving.

“Who exactly are you?” He dressed like a clerk or secretary, Talleyrand thought, but he had predator’s eyes.

“I’m the countess’s physician.”

“Is she ill?”

“No,” Teo replied from the doorway, “I’m in very good health.” And walking past Mingen, who stood slightly inside the entrance to the room, she added, “I understand this visit has to do with the future of France. I can’t imagine how I could be involved.” She didn’t sit but remained standing, her summer gown of primrose muslin one of a score Duras had had delivered to the house before her arrival.

“That’s a Madame Teillard gown,” Claudine petulantly said, recognizing the premier dressmaker’s touch. She dressed only the highest circles of society.

“Is it really. And you are?” Teo coolly inquired.

“I’m Madame Duras,” Claudine snapped. “Does
your
husband know you’re sleeping with
my
husband?”

Teo turned and began walking from the room.

“Hold your tongue, Claudine,” Talleyrand said, swiftly coming to his feet, his voice chill as ice. “Please, Countess, I beg your forgiveness,” he implored, moving after her as rapidly as his crippled foot allowed.

Mingen had drawn his pistol from his pocket and aimed it at Talleyrand. “The conversation is over,” he said.

“Don’t be dramatic, Doctor,” Talleyrand smoothly replied. “You’re outnumbered and my men are better armed.” He gazed past Mingen and Teo to his two powerful servants in the foyer who stood with their pistols drawn. “Come, Countess, sit down. We have some mutual concerns. I’ll see that Claudine behaves.”

“The bitch is pregnant, Charles. Look at her,” Claudine exclaimed, as Teo moved back into the room, the light muslin of her gown clinging for a moment to her form. “If I knew Andre wanted a brat so much I would have given him one.”

“One more word from you, Claudine, and my men will carry you from the house.”

“I should think this concerns me more than it does you, Charles,” she tartly responded, uncowed, “so kindly reserve
your authority for the others.” No longer lounging, she was sitting stiffly upright, the pressure of her grip on her parasol handle turning her fingers white.

“There are matters considerably more important than your jealousies, madame,” Talleyrand crossly retorted. “I won’t put up with your tantrums. Say no more.”

“I won’t allow him to divorce me,” Claudine said, her gaze on Teo malevolent, ignoring Talleyrand as though he hadn’t spoken. “And if you think you’re going to take him from me, you slut, I’ll see that you rot in prison like the spy you probably are.”

Talleyrand was already limping toward the door, waving for his men, as Claudine rose from the chaise and began walking toward Teo. “Don’t you touch her,” he barked at Claudine. “Control yourself!”

Teo backed away from the vengeful woman moving toward her with her parasol extended like a pointed weapon. “Andre always has sluts like you,” Claudine spat. “You’re not the first—you’re the hundredth or thousandth. And don’t think getting a brat by him will help you. He has those too, all over Europe. He pays them off, just like he’ll pay you off. He fucks
everyone
,” she rapped out, pugnacious and glowering. “Do you understand, you little hussy?
Everyone
.”

Mingen wrenched the parasol from Claudine’s grasp only inches from Teo’s stomach. Undeterred, she lunged at Teo, reaching for her throat, but Talleyrand caught his niece’s shoulder enough to spin her around and a second later he had her securely in his grasp. Deceptively strong beneath the languid guise he displayed to the world, he dragged her away.

“Andre won’t
get
a divorce from me, you bitch,” Claudine raged. “Not unless he gives me every sou he has! Every sou and franc and piece of silver plate, every scrap of furniture and property!” she screamed as Talleyrand’s two liveried servants, taking over from him, hauled her kicking and shrieking from the room.

“See that she stays in the carriage,” Talleyrand ordered, his voice raised enough to be heard by his servants over Claudine’s clamor. Carefully adjusting his coat cuffs as he turned back to Teo and Mingen, he reached out and closed the double door behind him, muffling Claudine’s outcries. “I shouldn’t have allowed her to come with me,” he apologized. “Now if we could begin again on a more cordial note,” he went on. “Please be seated. I intend you no harm, Countess. Please,” he repeated with a bow, waving her into a chair. “You’re quite welcome to stay, Doctor. I understand your concern for the countess’s health.”

He seated himself with a slight awkwardness, his deformed foot making him less graceful. “Claudine has personalized this issue when the reason I drove out here today has in truth to do with the future of France. Let me explain.” In a brief excerpt he outlined the impoverished state of the economy, the unfortunate reverses in the war, the debilitating restrictions in governing the country with the two houses of the assembly in constant disagreement. “I can’t divulge details, of course,” he went on, “but several members of the Directory are inclined to offer General Duras an important role in changing the political direction of France. He would become one of two members of the new Directory with virtually unlimited powers to govern. Do you understand how important it is at the moment for his private life to appear at least on the surface harmonious and conformable?” he said with delicate significance. “I’m afraid a liaison with the wife of a Russian general—currently at war with us—would seriously compromise his image,” he gently added. “You have to agree, Countess, that he’s eminently capable of ruling this country.”

Teo could scarcely breathe as each word fell from Talleyrand’s lips in measured, reasonable tones. The opportunity for Andre seemed immeasurable. And as the silence lengthened and her world began falling apart, Talleyrand
waited for her reply. “Yes,” she said, finding her voice at last. “He’s extremely capable.”

“What do you want?” Mingen brusquely said, not sure Teo could maintain her composure much longer. Her face was drained of color.

“If the countess could persuade the general to withdraw his divorce proceedings temporarily, or perhaps if she could return to Russia for a short interval while all the necessary events unfold, France would be grateful. She could renew her friendship with the general at a later date—with our blessing—once his position as head of state is secure.”

“When do you have to know?” Teo asked, her voice stronger than she expected with her life collapsing.

“In the next two weeks if possible.” Talleyrand’s voice was cordial, as if they were discussing some idle bit of gossip.

“What of the war in Switzerland?”

“MacDonald or Bernadotte could replace Duras.”

“And gain a victory?” Did the man not realize how critical the balance of power was there?

“Perhaps we could delay the, ah, events until Austria is crushed,” Talleyrand acknowledged. “I expect you and the doctor are more cognizant of the state of affairs in Switzerland than I.”

“Crushing Austria isn’t a military exercise to be lightly undertaken on a summer afternoon.”

“I didn’t mean to minimize the task, Countess. We on the political sidelines overlook at times the demands on our generals.”

“The Austrian army is vastly superior in numbers.”

“But surely our soldiers are more capable.” A politician’s bland assurance.

“If I return to Russia and the general still decides on a divorce, what then?”

“I can only speak from an observer’s position and I wouldn’t wish to denigrate the general’s steadfast regard for
you, but in the past General Duras has demonstrated a—shall we say—distressing impermanence in his relationships.”

“I see. You regard this as simply another of his transient liaisons.”

“Regrettably, madame, he’s not yet shown much respect for fidelity.”

The baby chose that moment to kick for the first time and Teo gasped at the astonishing sensation. Was it some prophetic response? she wondered, her mind in tumult, awe and wonder, sheer happiness and opposing gloom all running riot.

“Are you in pain, madame?” Talleyrand solicitously inquired, leaning forward in his chair.

“No,” she quickly replied, feeling another tiny flutter. “Herr Mingen, would you fetch Tamyr for me?”

“Dare I leave you, Countess?” Her breathing was slightly agitated.

“I’m fine. And Citizen Talleyrand has made his position abundantly clear. Is that sufficient discourse on the matter, Citizen?” she inquired, feeling strangely energized by the positive affirmation of her child. “Rest assured, I’ll consider all you’ve said.”

“The nation would be grateful, Countess. And my apologies for my niece,” he added. “I deeply regret exposing you to the embarrassment of her incivility.”

“I regret it as well,” Teo replied, regretting more the thought of Andre having Claudine for a wife. How could she possibly make him happy?

Mingen stood, signaling the end of the conversation, and content with the tenor of their conversation, Talleyrand accepted his dismissal with good grace. He stood, bowed, and took his leave with all the courtly charm of his noble heritage.

“If you would convey your decision to me in some fashion, Countess, I’d deeply appreciate your kindness.”

“I’ll only promise to consider what you told me,” Teo replied.

“Thank you, kind lady,” Talleyrand said, and with a final bow, he walked from the room.