Chapter 89

The Mitau Palace, Duchy of Courland

‘Sir Thomas Kydd,’ blared a bored functionary. Kydd advanced, executed an elegant leg and raised his eyes.

‘Dear sir, be welcomed to us.’

The curiosity in her voice was undisguised – how many Englishmen of note would reach this far into the continent of their own desiring? And Tucker had been right: she was a handsome woman of character, her direct and strong features reminding him of Cecilia.

‘Oh, old chap, well met, what?’

Astonished, Kydd acknowledged the slight figure to one side, presumably her husband, the Duc d’Angouleme.

‘Sir, your English does you credit,’ he replied.

‘As I was guest in your splendid country for too few years, Sir Thomas.’

‘Yes,’ the duchess said cuttingly, in French. ‘Captain, Sir Benjamin did allow that you have something of mutual interest to discuss.’

The duke fiddled nervously with a tassel.

‘Of the most urgent and compelling nature, Your Royal Highness.’ Kydd looked about him meaningfully. ‘As must be communicated privily.’

She contemplated him with interest. ‘I really cannot conceive of what an English sea captain might consider a French duchess must know in so importunate a manner. However, I shall indulge you, sir, for a brief space.’ An imperious wave of the hand and the drawing room was vacated by all save the duke, who stood up uncertainly, then sat again. ‘Now, Sir Thomas, pray what is your business?’

‘Madame, I’m captain of a frigate lately cruising off Stralsund.’ He spoke in low, urgent tones and with as much conviction as he could muster. ‘And lately in possession of intelligence of an unpleasant nature concerning your king.’

‘Go on, sir,’ she said steadily.

‘There is at this very moment, a party of assassins sent by Bonaparte to seize King Louis and take him to Paris. I’m here to provide a means of conveying him to a place of safety.’

The duke spluttered, ‘Even the Corsican would not stoop to-’

‘Be quiet, cher c?ur. Captain, we’ve rumours enough in this place. Why should I believe this?’

‘The information came from one who is in a position to know the truth of the matter and can gain nothing by its falsity.’

‘Sir, this is hardly grounds for requesting the King of France to flee with you. I’m mindful that a distinguished gentleman such as yourself would not be here unless convinced, but to satisfy me you must disclose your source and why you do believe the same.’

‘Madame, it is … Marshal Bernadotte of France.’

There was a frozen silence.

‘From his lips?’

‘Just so. He deplores the tyrant’s dishonouring of the name of France for reasons of personal insecurity, and-’

‘He is known to me. You will tell me his appearance, his style and bearing that I may be assured it is he.’

‘Ah, he is tall and slender, with dark curled hair. He dresses richly but plainly and, er, women might well account him handsome. He commands men as if born to it and-’

‘Thank you. Even if he serves Bonaparte he is a man of honour.’ She bit her lip, concentrating, then came to a decision. ‘Very well. I will accept that you have trustworthy information. Because of the need for haste I shall go to the King immediately. Do hold yourself ready to see him, if you will, Captain.’

She left in a swirl of brocade.

Kydd tried to make conversation with the agitated duke and was glad when Marie-Therese swept back in.

Wringing her hands, she told Kydd, ‘He refuses to leave, saying they wouldn’t dare to move against him in his own palace, this is only another foolish rumour, and there is no proof they exist.’

‘Madame, I must press you. In a very short while they will be here. If there are traitors and such who will aid them there’s every-’

‘Sir, I know more than you do that this may well be so, but you must understand. My uncle is stubborn and, as a king, set in his ways. I cannot so easily move him.’

‘You must, Madame! Time presses and this band-’

‘You ask too much! He’s the King of France and not to be commanded.’

Kydd saw there was no more to do. He’d done all he could and had been spurned. Already guilty of being off-station he was not in a position to wait indefinitely. ‘Then, with much sorrow, I fear I must take my leave, Your Royal Highness. There are duties my ship must perform that require her presence in distant waters. I shall depart in the morning.’

‘Is there nothing I can do to persuade you to remain a little longer? The King may-’

‘It is a time of war, Madame. My ship’s movements are out of my hands. I’m desolated to refuse you but I must.’

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