Vintage Love (24 page)

“There is no need for that,” the old gentleman told her. “If you refuse to accompany me, I will let you go free.”

She frowned. “How did you know who I am?”

“You do not recognize me,” the old man said. “But I have seen you before. On Saint Helena with the emperor. I was a minor member of his entourage on the island.”

She stared at him. “I cannot recall you.”

“I did not expect you to,” he said. “But I had no problem seeking you out. You have not changed all that much since those days on the island.”

“Who wishes to see me?”

“A good friend.”

She stood there hesitating. And she wondered if it might be Napoleon, himself, who wished to speak with her. If so, she could not miss the opportunity. It might be that while Eric was out making a search for the Valmy party, she was being given an opportunity of contacting it.

She said, “Where is this friend?”

“In a building only a few doors from here.”

“You swear on your honor as an officer that I will not be harmed or detained against my wishes?”

“You have my word,” the old man said.

She still waited, but she knew she would capitulate to his offer. She would be ignoring the purpose of her quest if she passed up a possible contact with the fugitive Napoleon. She might be able to warn him if she managed to have a personal conference with him. Let him know of Valmy’s planned deceit.

“My arm is paining from your grip on it,” she told the old ex-officer.

“My pardon, Mademoiselle Chapman,” he said, releasing his hold on her.

She stood there knowing she was free; that all she had to do was turn and run back in the direction of the hotel. She doubted that the old man would try to follow her, and if he did, he had only a small chance of catching up to her. Even if he did, she could make a fuss and ask some of the passersby to come to her aid.

But she knew she wouldn’t make the escape attempt. She would go with him and see if he’d lead her to the fallen emperor.

She said, “Very well. I’ll go with you.”

The old man bowed. “A wise decision,” he said.

He led her a short distance down the street to a building which held a wine shop on the ground floor. Next to the store front there was an open door leading up a dark flight of stairs.

The old man told her, “We go up here. I will lead the way. It is dark and the steps are not in good repair.”

“Very well,” she said. And as she followed him up in the darkness, she thought how unlikely a place this was to find the fallen emperor who had known the most luxurious of surroundings for such a large part of his life. He had come back to his early humble days it seemed.

Reaching the first floor, the old man went down a hall which led further to the rear of the building. He halted at a door there and knocked several times in a manner which evidently was a signal. There was a wait, and then the door was cautiously opened.

The old man said, “She is here!” And then he turned to her and said, “Please go in.”

She gave him a wary glance and then moved on to the open doorway and into a room whose shades were drawn so that she could see only shadows. The door closed behind her, giving her a feeling of sheer terror.

Suddenly one of the blinds at the window was whipped open, and standing by it, she saw the familiar face and figure of Dr. Barry Edward O’Meara!”

“You!” she gasped.

“And who were you expecting? Felix Black?”

“No.”

“Perhaps the emperor himself,” the Irish doctor said with a hint of mockery.

“The thought had crossed my mind,” she admitted.

The pleasant-faced Irishman said, “I’m sorry it is only O’Meara you’ll see this day.”

“What do you want?” she asked.

“You must remember Admiral Roche,” he said, indicating a man who had been sitting silently in a chair in a dark corner, so motionless she had not noticed him.

Now she gave her attention to the rather frail figure in the chair, and she recognized the black patch he wore on his right eye and the head of curly white hair. He had been one of the trusted officers who had gone to St. Helena with Napoleon. Badly wounded in the wars, he walked with a limp, but he had a handsome face despite the eye patch.

Admiral Roche got up from the chair and bowed. “It brings back nostalgic memories to see you again, mademoiselle.”

“Thank you,” she said warmly, for she had always liked the man. She felt afraid no longer.

“You were a great inspiration to the emperor,” the admiral said. “He missed you when you left the island.”

“I missed him,” she said.

Dr. Barry Edward O’Meara spoke up in his blustering way and said, “Cannot we not have our discussion in comfort? At least you should sit down, Betsy.”

“Thank you,” she said and sat in the nearest chair.

Admiral Roche returned to the easy chair he had been occupying and told her, “I had not truly ever expected to see you again.”

She said, “Nor I you.”

O’Meara told her, “The admiral knows why you are here. That you are an agent of Black’s.”

“So?” she said.

“I told you I would be here on my own,” O’Meara went on to advise her. “And I warn you the city is alive with Valmy’s agents.”

“That is to be expected,” she said.

O’Meara stood before her with a mocking smile on his face. “Tell me, are you still as enthusiastic about being an agent?”

“To be truthful, no.”

The Irishman chuckled and told the seated Roche, “You hear that, admiral. She has found out what we all come to know. It is a dangerous and unrewarding business.”

“None the less I will see my mission through,” she said firmly.

O’Meara lifted an eyebrow. “I see a change in you. Is it possible you have come to love your enemy?”

She said, “I understand the enemy is Raymond Valmy. In that case, I can say no.”

The Irish doctor shook his head. “I wasn’t thinking of Valmy. I was thinking of Major Eric Walters. Didn’t you blame him for your brother’s death?”

Her cheeks burned. “That was long ago.”

“So I am right,” O’Meara said triumphantly. “Walters has won you over.”

“I have great respect for him as a colleague,” she said.

“Indeed,” the Irish doctor said. “And where is he now?”

“Somewhere in the city,” she said.

Admiral Roche said, “You have come here hoping to find Napoleon?”

“I don’t think that is any secret,” she said.

“You’ve wasted your time,” Dr. Edward Barry O’Mears told her. “He is here no longer.”

“How do you know?”

Admiral Roche spoke up. “Because we are here for the same purpose. To try and get to him before Valmy pushes him further in this mad scheme.”

O’Meara smiled at her bleakly. “It would seem that for all Felix Black’s organization, I’m still a step ahead of him.”

She said, “I have no comment. I’m here solely because I would like to talk with the former emperor and tell him of his danger.”

“We wish to do exactly the same thing,” Admiral Roche told her.

“We don’t fully trust Mr. Felix Black and his agents,” O’Meara went on. “He was never Napoleon’s friend in the past. Why should he try to save him now?”

She said, “Because he feels it will also save England from facing another revolution in France and a disastrous war led by Valmy’s party. It is known that Valmy has an intense hatred for England.”

Admiral Roche nodded gravely. “He is a firebrand. I was always fearful of his political theories. Now, using the emperor, he is especially dangerous.”

She asked, “How long since Valmy and the emperor left here?”

“We aren’t actually sure,” O’Meara said. “We arrived here a week ago, and they had gone by then.”

“Where?” she asked.

“We have heard Valmy has a palace in Venice, and that is where they have headed,” O’Meara said.

“Venice would make an excellent hiding place,” the veteran Admiral Roche agreed. “It is full of dark corners and mystery.”

Betsy asked, “Have you talked with anyone who saw the party?”

O’Meara nodded grimly. “Yes. I had a long talk with someone who spent quite a bit of time with them. He is a kind of organizer for Valmy.”

“What about the emperor?” she asked.

“Distressing,” Admiral Roche said sadly. “He has grown more corpulent. And Valmy has made him grow a moustache. The story is that he has become apathetic and has no heart for this venture.”

O’Meara spoke angrily, “It is Valmy who pushes him on. Napoleon is not a well man. And as a final indignity Valmy has saddled him with a bad-tempered mistress who gives him little peace. A scheming widow named Giselle Manton, who was once Valmy’s woman friend. Probably still is.”

“Undoubtedly,” Admiral Roche agreed, “Valmy is using this woman to spy on the emperor and sway him to do Valmy’s bidding. It is sad!”

Betsy agreed. “He deserves better than that.”

“He has fallen into the worst possible hands,” Admiral Roche worried. “If we are not able to rescue him, there will be a major tragedy.”

O’Meara nodded. “Our work is far from over now. It is on to Venice.”

“We only pray we are not too late, for it is from Venice that Valmy plans to directly move the emperor into France. All the groundwork has been laid for regional insurrections, with a major outbreak scheduled for Paris.”

Betsy rose. “I must be going now. I will be missed, and they will worry.”

“Walters and that actor,” the Irishman said glumly. “I cannot think they will manage all that well.”

“I’d rather not think of us being in competition,” she protested.

“Wouldn’t you now?” O’Meara said with a hint of sarcasm. “Well, let me tell you this. I don’t know what Felix Black has in mind. But if we get to Napoleon first, you will never see him.”

She sighed. “It is too bad there could not be more trust between us.”

Admiral Roche had also risen. He explained, “We fear that in the end Black, like Valmy, means to see the emperor executed. We distrust his plan for sending him to America. We, on the other hand, want to see him free and living his remaining years in comfortable seclusion.”

Betsy said, “I know you to be an honorable man, admiral. And I think Dr. O’Meara is sincere. But I believe Felix Back has the best plan, and I will continue to dedicate myself to it.”

O’Meara eyed her with some annoyance. “You will remember that the emperor trusted you — that once he showed something close to love for you.”

“I will not deny that,” she said. “It is the reason I am here in Naples. To warn him!”

“I think Black means to use you as an instrument of the emperor’s destruction,” O’Meara warned her. “I believe we should make you our prisoner.”

“I have put myself at your mercy. I did so because I had an idea I was going to be ushered into the presence of Napoleon. And that I could save him.”

THERE WAS a tense silence in the low-ceilinged room with its whitewashed walls. Then Admiral Roche moved over to her, emotion showing on his lined face. The eye free of the black eye patch fixed on her, and he said, “You need have no fear, mademoiselle. We are, as you have said, men of honor. We will not detain you!”

“More the fools we may be!” O’Meara worried.

She smiled at him. “I remember you as anything but a fool. And the emperor relied on Admiral Roche more than on anyone else in his entourage.”

“That is why I hope he will listen to me and loose himself from the domination of Valmy,” the old admiral said.

“What a story it could make!” O’Meara said. “And I would like to be the one to write it.”

“If it goes the other way, the story will be equally hair-raising,” Betsy said sobering. “But infinitely more tragic.”

O’Meara told her, “You can give Walters the information we’ve passed on to you. And you can also tell him that we’ll be in Venice before him. And we hope to have the emperor safely on his way to real safety before Felix Black can reach out to get him.”

“Our motives are identical,” she said. “It is too bad you lack trust in us.”

“So be it!” the big Irishman said.

“Our man is waiting outside,” Admiral Roche told her. “He will escort you back to your hotel.”

The elderly ex-officer was standing in the hallway, and she joined him as the door to the room behind her was closed. It was evident that neither the admiral nor O’Meara intended to expose themselves to Valmy’s agents or even her own associates. This way they could deny ever having spoken with her.

The old man who was her escort said little as he led her back along the busy street. Her own mind was too filled with troubled thoughts for small talk. The big disappointment was that Napoleon was no longer in the city. And she did not doubt that O’Meara had told her the truth about this. She expected that Eric Walters would also have this information by now.

The gray-haired man bowed to her at the entrance to the hotel and said, “You will be quite safe now, mademoiselle.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I thank you.”

She went inside and looked for Kingston, but there was no sign of the veteran actor in the lobby. She went on up to her room and left her shopping parcels. Then she searched out the room Eric and Kingston were sharing and knocked on the door. It was several minutes before a sleepy-looking Kingston opened it.

She said, “You’ve been sleeping!”

“I felt a bit weary,” the actor admitted. “I didn’t rest well on the ship. I’m still a poor sailor.”

“Where is Eric?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hasn’t he returned yet?” she asked tautly.

“No! But he didn’t say when he expected to return,” the actor pointed out.

“I’d say he’s been too long gone!” she worried.

“He was looking for someone. Perhaps he is having trouble locating whoever it is.”

“Or he may have found the wrong person,” she said with a look of grim meaning.

Kingston ran a hand through his spare hair and for the first time showed signs of concern. “What can we do?”

“Very little for the moment.”

“There must be other agents here to help us,” Kingston worried. “Eric expected they would be here.”

“He may have been wrong,” she told the worried Kingston. “Worst of all I’ve learned that Napoleon is no longer in Naples.”