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CHAPTER 5
France/Belgium/Bavaria
- February 1815
Lady Caroline Buford
decided she did not like sea travel. It was not so much the accommodations
- even Caroline knew that warships were not designed for ladies
travel. The food was fine; they were not long enough on board
to enjoy the more common rations given to mariners - rotten mutton,
weevil-infested biscuit and suspect water. And the passage across
the Channel was uneventful. No; what Lady Caroline did not like
was that the beds could not accommodate two.
It was quite a change
for the former Miss Bingley. Prior to her marriage she could
hardly imagine sharing her bed with a man; now she could hardly
bear not to. She found that it was a great comfort to awaken
with her husband's arm holding her close, his even breathing
music to her ears. And as for the nights…she could only
blush. She felt sure she enjoyed those times far more than proprietary
subscribed, but Sir John seemed to be delighted with her, and
that was the important thing.
Yet there was a
cloud to her happiness, and the kindness her husband paid to
her person in a small way added to her worries. She knew Sir
John did not seek a love match; he wanted a partner to manage
his house and entertain his guests. The time would soon come
when she would have to prove her worthiness - she prayed that
she would not disappoint.
As for her flutterings
- Caroline began to suspect what they meant; and that realization
both excited and frightened her.
Once on land, things
progressed in a most agreeable manner. The party left Calais
in two carriages: Sir John and Lady Caroline in one; the maid
Abigail and valet Roberts in the other with most of the luggage.
The weather was cold but not oppressively so, and the blankets
provided served reasonably well. It did not stop Lady Caroline
from occasionally complaining of a chill; this would provoke
Sir John to join her under her blanket, and if certain liberties
were permitted and enjoyed, the curtains were drawn so no harm
was done. Otherwise, the colonel sat across from his wife, either
enjoying the countryside or studying the volume of papers he
had brought with him.
During the day the
party traveled through the countryside, Sir John pointing out
interesting features. At the inns where they would spend the
evenings, Lady Caroline took charge. She had the servants see
to the rooms while she handled the innkeepers and ordered their
meals with her passable French. Nothing was left to chance and
Caroline saw that Sir John did nothing but rest. At night the
knight and his lady would fall into bed together, sometimes for
love, but always to rest intertwined for the travels ahead.
They spent little
time in France - the route to Vienna was more direct through
Belgium and Bavaria, and, to be honest, Sir John did not trust
Paris over much. He assured his disappointed bride that they
would enjoy the French capital another time. First to Brussels
then through the Ardennes Forest to Coblenz, where they crossed
into the Saar. Caroline thought she had seen a river before;
but the sleepy Thames was as nothing to the powerful Rhine.
Bavaria and the
Black Forest were all delightful; Caroline had never seen such
mountains before. It brought to her mind a rather silly comment
Louisa had made before about mountains being "unrefined."
If the Peaks in Scotland and the North of England had inspired
such a remark, Caroline wondered what her sister would say if
she had ever beheld the Alps.
The party worked
their way from Frankfurt down to the Danube River. Soon they
entered Austria-Hungary and within a few days they beheld the
beautiful city of Vienna. Caroline's heart was in her mouth for
more than one reason. The city, on level ground with the river
running through it and covered in snow, looked liked something
out of a fairy tale. It also held an air of foreboding for her;
now Lady Caroline's worthiness to love her husband (as she feared
she did) and be loved by him (as she now dreamed) would be tested.
Vienna, Austria
Lady Caroline walked
the rooms of the Buford apartments in Vienna. Large French windows
lined one wall, facing the street. The furniture was made of
light colored wood with colorful fabrics, unlike the sensible
dark Chippendale style back in England. Nevertheless, the rooms
were comfortable and well appointed. That would never do. How
was Lady Caroline to prove her worth if she did not leave her
mark? It was all very vexing.
"Well?"
asked her husband. "Does the place meet with your approval?"
Caroline said nothing,
occupied with her dilemma. Finally she pointed to a couch. "Move
that settee over there and those chairs around here." Roberts
and a footman complied. Caroline contemplated some more. She
walked over to a vase on the mantle and moved it over to a table
near the pianoforte. "There," she said. "That
is better. These rooms will do tolerably."
Sir John merely
laughed. "Wait 'till spring, my dear, and you'll be able
to fill the place with orange tulips."
"Sir John,"
said his wife with just the right touch of condescension, "you
may know about maneuvers and strategies and other sorts of military
matters, but it is obvious you know little about decorating!"
"I bow to your
superior knowledge, my lady."
"Thank you,
sir."
"Allow me to
introduce you to your staff." Sir John gestured to three
women standing by; two of a certain age and one a young blonde
beauty. "Helga is the cook; Frau Lippermann is the housekeeper.
Roberts will serve as butler, as well as my valet. Sascha will
join Abigail as your personal maids." Sascha was the blonde.
Lady Caroline nodded
to each in turn. In a low voice she said to her husband, "So
many for such a small household? I have no need of a second maid,
Sir John. Abigail is sufficient."
"Ah, but you
do need another personal maid. Sascha knows German, English and
French. The other ladies speak only their native tongue."
Caroline's lips
tightened. I should have anticipated that! I have no German!
I must do better! she berated herself. "Of course. Thank
you for your foresight, my dear," she said, trying but failing
to completely hide her aggravation. I will have to have this…girl
translate for me. Caroline was not happy - Sascha was too
attractive by half. "Sascha, please inform Frau Lippermann
and Helga that I look forward to our time together here in Vienna.
They may return to their duties."
"Sehrwohl,
my lady." Sascha replied in a heavily accented English.
She then spoke to the others in German. They nodded to their
new mistress and left for the kitchen.
"If you will
pardon me, sir, I will accompany my maids to my room to supervise
the unpacking." Lady Caroline gave her husband a small curtsy
before leaving the room.
Sir John was nonplussed.
What is wrong? What has provoked her?
Sir John exited
his carriage at the front of the castle where the Congress was
being held. He was wearing civilian clothes - a fine navy blue
- with his sash of red. He handed his topcoat, hat and gloves
to the doorman and entered the vestibule. Quickly ascertaining
the location of the British offices, he when up the stairs to
the second floor and headed down a hall. Halfway down the hall
he saw two men; one tall and one of medium build, conversing
in French.
Sir John stopped
a few yards away as to respect their privacy. The taller man
turned in his direction and noticed the colonel. "Buford!"
Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington, called out. "Excuse
me, sir," Wellington said to his companion in English, "but
I would like to introduce this gentleman to your acquaintance.
Come here, colonel!"
Sir John grew closer
to the pair. "Your Excellency, may I present to you Colonel
Sir John Buford of the British Army? Colonel, this is Minister
Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord, head of the French
Delegation."
"Your servant,
sir." Talleyrand! Sir John thought as he bowed.
"Charmed, colonel,"
said the Foreign Minister in perfect English. "I understand
you are lately married. Please accept my congratulations. Your
wife did not find the journey tiresome?"
"Not at all;
I thank you, Excellency. She is even now calling upon Lady Barbara."
Sir John tried to keep hidden his discomfort. How much do
you know, you devil? Apparently the French Secret Service changed
its allegiance as quickly as you. The ambassador was notorious
for changing sides: first Louis XVI, then the Revolution, then
against Robespierre; then for Napoleon, then against; now minister
for Louis XVIII.
M. Talleyrand smiled;
his point had been made. "My lord," he said to Wellington,
"duties call me away. May we continue this conversation
another time?"
"Of course,
of course."
"Merci beaucoup.
Colonel, welcome to Vienna," said Talleyrand to Sir John.
Buford bowed again
and the ambassador, with his habitual limp, left the two Englishmen.
"Well, you've met the old fox, Buford," said the Iron
Duke when the Frenchman was out of earshot. "What do you
think?"
Sir John knew the
duke wanted total candor. "Well, sir, he is a charming man,
to be sure; but he bears watching. Lovely guest to have to dinner
- just make sure you count the silverware before he leaves."
The duke broke into
a loud laugh. "Capital, sir! You shall do well here. Come
into my offices, we have much to discuss."
Lady Caroline was
riding in her own rented coach through the streets of Vienna
towards the townhouse which served as the temporary home for
the Duke of Wellington and his sister, Lady Barbara Hornblower.
The anxiety she was feeling was not helped by presence of her
companion, Sascha.
"Lady Karoline,
is not Vienna ze most beautiful city? There is no more vonderful
city in ze vorld…I am honored that I may assist you in your
duties…" the maid rattled on and on. "Do not vorry…I
shall guide you…"
The cheek of
the girl! She advise me?
Lady Caroline's
displeasure started that morning as she talked over - or tried
to talk over - the meals for the week. Caroline had particularly
wanted to give her husband his first English-style dinner in
some time. There was a fine joint of beef that just begged to
be roasted to a turn with mashed potatoes, leaks and dried peas
(fresh peas were out of the question in winter). As usual, Sascha
was needed to translate to Helga the cook.
"What do you
mean - the joint is 'not available'?" demanded the mistress.
"Lady Karoline,
Helga has…how do you say…set ze meat aside… marinieren…
marinate, ja, marinate…she makes sauerbraten
- a very good dish. Helga makes a vonderful sauerbraten,"
explained the blonde maid, as if to a child.
"I had hoped
to serve an honest roast beef to Sir John, but never mind. Let
us talk about Tuesday…"
Sascha interjected,
"Lady Karoline, ve must still decide today's meal…"
"Why? I thought
we were having…sour-bratten."
"Oh nein…ze
marinate takes several days. Sauerbraten is not until
Thursday."
"Well, what
do you suggest? I would like to do something in the English style."
Caroline asked the cook. She and Sascha gibbered in German for
a minute, with a couple of glances towards their mistress.
"Helga says
she has some very nice Würste…sausages."
Hmm…bangers
and mash is a bit rustic, but it will have to do. "I would like some mashed potatoes
with that, peas…"
"No peas -
vinter."
Lady Caroline raised
her eyebrows. "I understand it is winter, but do you not
have some dried peas?"
More gibbering.
"Helga has no dried peas…nein Schwarzaugenbohnen.
She vill make some nice beets…rote Rüben …along
vith Erdäpfelsalat."
Caroline had no
idea what Erdäpfelsalat was. "You do have bread
in this…" godforsaken "…country, do
you not?"
"Ja, natürlich
- of course! No finer bread in ze vorld! As special treat she
vill make Leberknödelsuppe - vonderful Austrian soup
- and Meranertorte for dessert."
Lady Caroline surrendered
with a sigh. "Very well…as for Tuesday…"
"Special treat!"
cried Sascha. "Wiener Backhendl!"
And so the morning
went on. Lady Caroline had the distinct impression that she was
the object of amusement to the staff, but she had no evidence
to prove it. What was obvious was that Sascha did not think much
of her mistress, or anyone else who was not Austrian. Caroline
intended to speak to Sir John about it that evening.
Finally the carriage
pulled before the Wellington townhouse. "Thank you, Sascha,"
said Lady Caroline before the girl could move out of her seat.
"but I believe I can manage on my own; after all,"
she added, "we all speak English here."
"But, vhat
shall I do…?"
"I am sure
there are some errands you can see to. Have the carriage back
here in an hour." Lady Caroline took her leave of the troublesome
maid and announced herself at the front door. Directly she was
shown to a small antechamber near the door where she was divested
of her coat and gloves.
As Caroline reentered
the hall she saw a tall, slim, elegantly dressed woman approach
her. "Lady Caroline Buford? Welcome to our home. I am Lady
Barbara Hornblower." She held out her hands to the young
woman.
Caroline fell into
a deep curtsy. "I am deeply honored to make your acquaintance,
my lady. I hope I am not behind my time."
A low rich laugh
escaped the older woman. "Oh, my dear Lady Caroline, please
do not stand on ceremony…there is enough of that outside
this house." The two clasped hands. "Allow me to wish
you joy, this time in person, on the occasion of your marriage.
Ah, to be a bride again…" Lady Barbara's face broke
into a sweet smile. "How is dear Sir John? You both found
the journey pleasant?"
To her mortification,
Lady Caroline blushed. "He is well. The journey was…very
pleasant..."
"Oh…"
Caroline blushed deeper, which caused Lady Barbara to laugh softly
again. "Forgive me, my dear, I shall tease you no more.
Come, the other ladies of the delegation are waiting to make
your acquaintance. I understand you play the pianoforte - perhaps
you will honor us?"
And so it begins, thought Caroline.
"…And
that is the progress we have made to date," Wellington leaned
back in his chair and looked at the assembled delegation about
him. "Not enough…slow business this…but there
it is."
"Sir, the agreement
on the slavery issue is a notable achievement," cried Sir
John.
"Thankee, Sir
John, yes - good work, there…" No politician was immune
from flattery; and the duke liked it as much as the next man.
"Only it's the Royal Navy that's enforcing it. Can't get
any of the other beggars to lift a finger." Wellington looked
at his pocket watch. "Well, enough for now; 'tis time for
dinner." The group of men rose.
"Sir,"
said Sir John as the delegation began to leave the room. "I
am sorry that Lord Hornblower is not in attendance."
"Humph! No
- his lordship's still gallivanting about France. It's just as
well; he really wasn't a member of the delegation." Wellington
looked about to see if anyone was in earshot. "I'll tell
you this, Buford: sailors make terrible diplomats."
"Is that so,
sir?"
"But of course!
Look at our great naval heroes! Thomas Cochrane's been dismissed
from the fleet, Jack Aubrey's been a questionable vote in the
Commons - and he's had his own troubles on land. My esteemed
brother-in-law is not much better - nothing underhanded, I assure
you, just…well it's like they never get their land legs
back, you understand?"
Sir John nodded.
"No, it takes
a solider to understand diplomacy, to see that subtleness is
necessary. Your naval types all subscribe to Nelson's tactics
- 'never mind maneuvers, just go straight at 'em!'" The
Iron Duke shook his head. "Can you imagine what our friend
M. Talleyrand would do to men like that? Have 'em for supper,
is what! But at sea…well, that's where they come into their
own. I wouldn't want to be on any ship, schooner or 100-gun first
rate ship-o-the-line, with Hornblower or Lucky Jack Aubrey between
me and the weather gage. Well man, enough of that stuff! Get
yourself home to that bride o' yours."
Lady Caroline found
out what Leberknödelsuppe was. "How is your
soup, dear?'
"Interesting."
An English translation for Leberknödelsuppe would
be Liver Dumpling Soup. "I cannot say I have ever fancied
liver, but this is good." A small lie.
The main course
was more successful. The sausages were excellent and the beets
better than Caroline expected. The dark rye bread was tasty.
As for the Erdäpfelsalat- room temperature potatoes
with onions and vinegar was not to mistress's idea of Bangers
and Mash.
But Helga won over
her employers with her Meranertorte: a piece of chocolate
heaven that left the knight and his lady speechless save for
the occasional groan of pleasure. The two sat back in satisfaction
as the plates were taken away.
"Möchten
Sie gerne eine Tasse Kaffee?"
asked Frau Lippermann.
Lady Caroline winced.
The only tea to be got in Vienna was the few boxes they had brought
from England. Sascha assured them more could be acquired, but
Caroline had her doubts - Sascha had recommended the Leberknödelsuppe.
"Shall we adjourn to the library, dear?" she asked
her husband. "Kaffee - library…" she pantomimed
to the housekeeper.
After they were
served their coffee - apparently, Frau Lippermann had understood
Lady Caroline - the mistress waited until Sascha, finally becoming
aware of her ladyship's glare in the maid's direction, excused
herself. "Sir John, I wish to speak to you about the staff…"
"What - is
something the matter?"
Now that she had
begun, Lady Caroline found it hard to continue. She did not want
to lose Sir John's confidence in her abilities. "I…I
am sorry about dinner. It was not what I was expecting…"
"Nonsense,
my dear! We are in a foreign country, you know. I'll grant you
the soup was a bit strange, but it doesn't signify. You must
admit the dessert was excellent!"
"Yes…that
is true…but…"
"If there is
anything you don't like, just let Helga know - Sascha will translate."
Caroline put her
coffee cup down. "It is Sascha I wish to speak to you about."
Sir John looked at his wife expectantly. "I have found her
to be disrespectful."
"Indeed? In
what way?"
"Well, nothing
specific; it is just her general attitude…" She stopped
as she heard her husband's gentle chuckle. "What do you
find so funny, sir?"
"Attitude?
Oh, my dear Caroline, of course she has an attitude. She's Austrian!
All these Teutonic types think they are God's gift to the world.
Heaven help us if the Prussians, Bavarians and Austrians ever
get together. We'd probably bring Bonaparte back to help take
them on." He reached over and patted her hand. "No,
you just keep the whip hand over that little girl and all will
be well."
Sir John returned
to his coffee, never realizing his blunder. He did have confidence
in Caroline's abilities to run the household, but, like so many
military types before and after, he did not understand that a
household staff could not be managed like a regiment. In his
experience, once an order was given it was to be obeyed, without
question. This was a luxury not afforded his wife.
He also made another
critical mistake. Like most men he underestimated the young and
blonde.
Lady Caroline immediately
hid behind a mask of indifference. A lifetime of training had
taught her to never show how offended she might be at some careless
or malicious remark. Her husband's patronizing comment had hurt
her deeply, but her fear at being considered unable to do her
duties, of being unworthy, stayed her tongue.
March 1815
"Are you almost
ready, my lady?" asked Sascha.
Keep your knickers
on, you Hessian hussy!
thought Abigail. "Lady Caroline, is your hair satisfactory?"
Caroline was nervous,
but steeled herself not to take it out on Abigail - Sascha was
another matter. "That is lovely. Thank you, Abby. The necklace
and then we are away."
Abigail stood back
to admire her mistress. The blue dress, dyed to match Sir John's
Light Dragoon uniform, showed her pale complexion to good effect,
and the feathers were smaller than usual. "You look lovely,
my lady, if I may say so." I wish I were coming with
you, instead of that…that…
Caroline blushed
slightly at the maid's complement. "Thank you, Abby."
The two of them had grown closer in the last week - due to their
mutual dislike of Sascha. "Come Sascha, we must not keep
Sir John waiting."
The Austrian maid
mumbled something in German - to Lady Caroline's ears it sounded
slightly insulting. Oh, if I could only speak German! I'd
have you then, you impertinent baggage!
Sir John was in
the parlor, splendid in his full-dress blue Dragoon uniform,
saber at his side, cape rakishly thrown over one shoulder. The
first thought that came to Caroline's mind was to devour him
right away. She did not note that Sascha had again mumbled something
under her breath.
Sir John was of
the same mind, except it was about his wife. How many hours
before I get you back in my bed, woman? he thought as he
tried to remember to breathe.
The two looked at
each other in pure desire until Roberts cleared his throat. "Uh…sir,
my lady; 'tis time to leave." The Embassy Ball, hosted by
Lady Barbara, would begin within the hour, and Lady Caroline
had duties to attend to. Without a word, Sir John offered his
wife his arm and they sailed out to the waiting coach, with Sascha
trailing behind.
Sascha babbled in
the coach as the party moved though the late afternoon streets
of Vienna. "It is vise for you to take me along vith you,
Sir John. I know my vay around Vienna very vell; I vas raised
here…" Caroline barely heard the girl - she was too
concerned over her duties that evening. Soon, the carriage drew
before the hall that was holding the ball. The Buford party made
their way inside.
"Sascha,"
Lady Caroline said after they entered the building, "report
to Lady Barbara's secretary; she will assign you your duties."
Caroline and Sir John continued into the main ballroom, where
they were greeted by the Duke and his sister, as well as the
other members of the British delegation.
Caroline's tension
had eased somewhat. The other ladies of the delegation had, on
the whole, proved to be pleasant and gracious. There were at
least two that Caroline was desirous of becoming better acquainted,
and they seemed to welcome the newcomer into their sphere. The
ladies went off to see to the final preparations in good spirits.
Within an hour,
the ballroom was filled with the height of Viennese society.
Never had Caroline seen such finery, such jewels, having never
been presented at court. Not that it would have mattered - European
fashion made the London scene look dowdy in comparison. She and
Sir John were making the rounds when they heard someone calling
the colonel.
"Colonel Buford!
What a wonderful surprise!" A beautiful young woman of medium
height approached them. She wore a silver gown with a shocking
décolletage, her blue sash of rank tucked beneath her
ample bosom. She grew close to the colonel, and in a very familiar
way, touched his red sash. "What is this?" she asked
with a faint French accent. "Are you now Sir John? Have
you been elevated?"
"Yes, Countess,
as have you."
"Ah, but you
earned your knighthood by your labors for your king. I have done
so by the usual method afforded to women!" She finally turned
to Caroline. "Will you introduce me to your companion?"
Sir John ground
his teeth. He knew Roxanne could see the wedding rings. "Countess,
this is my wife, Lady Caroline Buford. Lady Caroline, Countess
Roxanne d'Ponchartrain-Villiere. Her husband, the Count d'Ponchartrain,
is a member of the French delegation."
"Your ladyship,"
Caroline curtsied.
"Charmed. So,
you are married, Sir John? But how could you not, with such a
lovely creature," she nodded at Caroline. "I had not
heard - is it a recent event?"
"Our wedding
was in January, Countess." Caroline answered.
"And a honeymoon
in Vienna! What could be more delightful! Sir John, you must
not keep this lovely creature to yourself. You simply must excuse
us. Come with me, Lady Caroline." The Countess gave the
each of them a smile, took Caroline's arm and walked off with
her. Sir John could only look on with a shade of concern on his
face.
Caroline could not
like Countess d'Ponchartrain. Her familiarity with Sir John set
her teeth on edge. She wondered at her pointed attentions, but
she submerged her doubts. The Countess was French, she reasoned,
and the French have their strange ways. Besides, Caroline was
a veteran of the games of the London ton, surely she could handle
a French vixen. She also was striving valiantly not to feel completely
underdressed next to the Countess. For the next few minutes,
Caroline was introduced to several other grand ladies and was
quizzed politely about herself.
Finally, Countess
d'Ponchartrain pointed out a handsome gentleman standing a little
ways from them, wearing a black suit with a red-and-white sash.
"Have you been introduced to that gentleman, Lady Caroline?"
When she answered in the negative, the Countess called the man
over. "Baron, allow me to introduce Lady Caroline Buford
of Wales. Lady Caroline, this is Baron Wolfgang von Odbart of
Prussia. Oh! I must be away - my husband calls, I think. I shall
leave you in the Baron's capable hands, Lady Caroline. À
bientôt." The Countess then left the two together.
The dashing Baron
turned to Caroline. "Are you available for a set, Lady Karoline?"
"The second
set is available, sir."
"Wunderbar.
Bis dann- until then, my lady." He clicked his heels,
bowed and left her.
Soon, other august
noblemen were introduced to Lady Caroline, and it was not long
before her dance card was filled (the last set reserved for her
husband). Caroline tried her best not to appear as intimidated
as she felt; but it was a relief when Sir John came to claim
the opening set with her. Sir John was an excellent dancer, and
Caroline was able to lose herself in the movements of the dance,
watching her husband.
Soon the dance was
over and Sir John surrendered his happy bride to her new friends.
She was in conversation with the ladies when the Baron reappeared.
"Lady Karoline? It is time for our set," he informed
her as he held out his arm. Caroline accepted the gesture and
allowed herself to be glided to the dance floor. She did not
see the looks of concern on the other ladies' faces.
Sir John was standing
by himself, taking in the crowd. He was thinking nothing, really,
just enjoying the dancers, when Countess d'Ponchartrain approached
him. "I finally have you to myself, Jean," she
said in French.
His contentment
evaporated, the colonel responded in the same language. "Of
what can you mean, Comtesse?"
The lady laughed
lightly. "Jean, have I not always been Roxanne to
you? Surly you have not forgotten…"
Fighting his feelings,
Sir John remained gallant. "Of course not. But those days
have passed, milady."
"Surly you
do not refer to our…changes?" She glanced over her
shoulder and smiled. "Have you made un mariage d'amour
- the love match?" She laughed again. "Oh, that is
too funny - that cannot be. Not you, chéri."
Sir John pursed
his lips but said nothing. He certainly would not reveal his
feelings for his wife to her.
The Countess looked
upon him with dancing eyes. "Have you met my husband, chéri?
No? Well, he is over there, across the room."
Sir John looked
to the gentleman she indicated. He beheld a rather dandified
older man with a wig and what looked suspiciously like rouge
on his cheeks. He was a bit much, even for a French noble.
"You spy him,
yes? Well, observe the man to his left. Watch!" Sir John
saw a young footman, who could not be older than one-and-twenty,
crossing over to the Comte with a glass of wine. His clothes
were very fine and fit like a glove. d'Ponchartrain accepted
the wine, taking the glass with a slight caress of the young
man's hand. It was very brief; only one who had been observing
very closely would have caught it. The Countess chuckled, "Yes,
Pierre is a particular favorite. What say you?"
Despite his deep
revulsion, Sir John could not help himself. "A ballet dancer's
breeches should fit so well." They were so tight as to be
almost indecent.
"Ah, how did
you know? My husband pays better than le Ballet de Paris."
In a very low voice
Sir John demanded, "Why do you tell me these things, Roxanne?"
"We have an
understanding, he and I, as pertains to les affaires d'amour.
We are discreet; I do not embarrass him and he does not embarrass
me. I have no reason to complain. Have you a similar agreement
in your house, chéri?"
"What…?"
he cried in English.
"You may need
to; observe!" She gestured to the dancers with her fan.
Sir John saw Lady Caroline dancing with Baron Wolfgang von Odbart.
His throat tightened - Baron von Odbart_ was a notorious seducer
and womanizer. My past conquests have all been voluntary -
his have not! he thought.
"They look
lovely, yes? I think she will thank me for the introduction."
The Countess purred. "What time shall I expect you tonight,
Jean?"
Deep anger flushed
Sir John's face. He turned to her and it took all of the colonel's
discipline not to slap the woman. "Madam," he spoke
in English though clenched teeth, "I am afraid you are under
a mistaken impression of our acquaintance. I shall say no more.
If you would excuse me, I shall return to my wife."
A grin touched by
malice was on the Countess's face. "You had better hurry,
chéri; the dance is finished."
Sir John whirred
around. Sure enough, the music had ended and most of the couples
had already left the dance floor. Caroline was nowhere in sight.
After two sets of
dancing, Caroline was in need of refreshment. "Lady Karoline,
these tables are so crowded," said the Baron. "Come,
there is another near the library." Wishing to slake her
thirst as soon as possible, she allowed herself to be escorted
out of the ball room.
Once they reached
the table, the Baron poured Caroline a glass of punch. Caroline
drained the glass as quickly as a gentlewoman could and shyly
requested a refill.
"Ja,
dancing is hot vork, is it not?" remarked the Baron with
polite humor. He handed Caroline her replenished glass. "Here
you are, my lady. I am at your command."
"Thank you,
Baron."
"Gern' geschehen
- you are most velcome."
Caroline thought
it would be best to make some polite conversation with the Baron
before she was claimed for the next set. "Where are you
from, sir?"
"I? I was raised
in a small village outside Berlin."
"You inherited
your estate?"
"Ja, ein
wahres Schmuckstück - the estate - has been in my family
for eight generations."
"It is very
beautiful, I am sure."
"Ja, ein
schönes Einzelstück…a most beautiful place."
He drew very close to Caroline as he eyed the library door. "I
vill take you there…soon…mein schönes Mädchen…"
"Baron von
Odbart, what are you saying?" Lady Caroline asked.
Sir John was trying
not to appear anxious as he walked though the crowd looking for
Caroline. Unconsciously, he looked for feathers - Caroline was
one of the few ladies wearing them. He felt as he had searched
the ball room twice without success when he noticed M. Talleyrand
looking at him. While he was anxious to find his wife, Sir John
could not ignore the French ambassador.
"Bonsoir,
Excellency," he greeted the Frenchman in French.
"Good evening,
Sir John," he returned in English. "Are you enjoying
yourself?"
"Very much.
Do you join the dance?"
"Non;
such pastimes are beyond me. I take pleasure in observing the
action about." The minister owned a pronounced limp.
"Yes; the ladies
are lovely."
"Oui, tout
à fait - yes indeed. But there is more - one can learn
much from watching." Talleyrand eyed Sir John closely.
He's trying to
tell me something.
"Absolutely, monsieur."
Talleyrand sighed.
"There is much beauty to be found by a dashing knight. It
is everywhere - the ball room, the dinning room, the library…"
The sentence hung in the air.
It took Sir John
a moment to understand the ambassador. "I…excuse me,
Excellency. I have enjoyed this enlightening conversation. Merci
vraiment. Bonne nuit."
"You are very
welcome, Sir John. Good night," said M. Talleyrand.
Sir John headed
towards the library. The ambassador watched him go with a glint
in his eye.
"Baron von
Odbart, what are you saying?" Lady Caroline asked.
"Karoline..."
"Ah, there
you are, my dear!" said Sir John as the entered the hallway
before the library. "Baron von Odbart; good evening!"
"Sir John!"
Caroline exclaimed in surprise and relief. The Prussian glared
at the interloper.
"Have you been
keeping Seine Exzellenz company? Wunderbar!"
Sir John turned to the Baron; he had let the Prussian know that
he had heard their last exchange and that he spoke German. "Lady
Caroline takes her duties as my wife seriously - all of
them." he said with a mouth that smiled and eyes that did
not. Baron von Odbart did not reply. The two men locked eyes.
"Dear,"
Sir John said, half turning to Caroline but not breaking eye
contact with his adversary, "Lady Barbara was looking for
you. She is near the dining room." His smile never left
his face.
Lady Caroline was
confused. She had at last realized that she had been propositioned,
but Sir John did not seem to be angry at all. The last time
a man did thus, he threatened to kill him! Why does he just smile
at the Baron like an idiot? "I…thank you, dear.
Baron, excuse me," she offered with the barest of civility,
before she turned and left for the ball room.
The two men were
left alone. Finally, the Baron spoke. "If you vill excuse
me, I shall return to the ball."
He is an ambassador
- you can do nothing,
Sir John reminded himself. I cannot challenge him - I cannot!
But Sir John could not at let things lie and remain a man. "A
question first, sir. Do you hunt?"
The Baron looked
into his eyes. "Ja. Grouse and deer."
"Musket?"
"Ja."
"Perhaps we
should go shooting together once the spring comes. I am proficient
with the musket, rifle, pistol and bow."
"I…I see…"
He saw that Sir John was not talking about hunting.
"I particularly
enjoy hunting at dawn. Very productive, you know. I've had many
successful…hunts at dawn."
The Baron replied
with a grunt.
Sir John lowered
his voice. "Have you ever hunted with a blade? There is
nothing like killing a wild boar with a saber. The sound it makes
when the blade strikes home…" There was a wild look
in his eye.
The Baron shuddered.
"I shall remember that. But, excuse me, please - I do not
think I shall have time to…hunt vhile in Vienna. The Congress…"
he shrugged. "My apologies - bitte entschuldigen Sie.
Gute Nacht."
"Lady Barbara,
you were looking for me?" greeted Lady Caroline.
The older lady smiled
at her friend. "Why no, but I am glad to see you. Did someone
say that I was?"
Caroline's confusion
returned. "Sir John did…I was just with Baron von Odbart..."
Lady Barbara was
startled. "Baron von Odbart!" She collected herself.
"Lady Caroline, is Sir John still with the Baron?"
"Yes, I just
left him…Oh!" Caroline finally made sense of her husband's
odd behavior. He was trying to get me out of the room before
he…! She began to turn back to the library, when she
felt Lady Barbara's hand on her arm.
"Lady Caroline,"
she said in a low voice, "we shall go together…slowly…"
The two ladies had
only taken a dozen steps before they saw, to their immense relief,
Sir John strolling from the direction of the library. "Ladies!"
he called out gaily.
Lady Caroline was
embarrassed, so naturally she took it out on her husband. "Sir
John! What are you about, sir?"
Lady Barbara asked,
"Where is the Baron?"
"The Baron?"
the colonel said nonchalantly. "Oh, he's about somewhere…Wretched
man - wouldn't go hunting with me…"
"Hunting, sir?'
cried his wife. "You wished to go sporting with that man
after he…"
"Lady Caroline!"
hissed the hostess. To Sir John she asked, "Would this…hunting
have anything to do with pistols or swords?" At dawn
with seconds?
"The very thing!
Can't see why he turned me down. You can never tell with these
foreign types."
"Yes…"
said Lady Barbara dryly. "An ambassador is usually
too busy for that sort of thing, especially with a mere advisor.
I would not ask again; I do not believe my brother would approve."
Sir John understood
Lady Barbara's warning. "Yes, my lady."
Lady Caroline did
not quite follow the conversation, but she knew that Sir John
had been warned off some improper behavior. She began to defend
him when another gentleman approached the group. "Lady Barbara,
Sir John, excuse me please," said one of the senior British
diplomats. "Lady Caroline, it is time for the supper dance."
He smiled as he held out his arm.
"Oh! Of course,
my lord..."
Sir John smiled.
"Enjoy your dinner, my dear. I shall see you for the final
set."
"Lady Caroline!"
said Lady Barbara as she was leaving. "If you would be so
kind to call on me day after tomorrow, I would be most obliged."
"Of…of
course, my lady."
"Wonderful.
Let us say three o'clock? I shall send my card around."
After Lady Caroline
left, Sir John asked, "Lady Barbara, do you dance tonight?"
"Oh, no, my
dear colonel. A hostess' job is never done. However, I would
not object if you would lend me your arm to the dining room."
By the time the
Bufords were riding back home in the carriage, all unhappiness
between them was gone. Caroline was tired and happy. In the back
of her mind, she was still a little disappointed that Sir John
did not defend her more vigorously before the Baron. Go sporting
with him, indeed! However, the dinner was delightful and
she loved to dance with her husband. And Sascha's gossip was
interesting.
"Ja!
I vould not believe it had I not seen it vith mine own eyes!
Baron von Odbart vas chased out of the back door by a Russian
count! There will be some merry talk about Vienna tomorrow, I
can assure you!"
Lady Caroline was
so sleepy and relaxed that she broke with propriety and placed
her head on Sir John's shoulder and closed her eyes, a contented
smile on her lips. Sir John simply held his wife's hand as the
carriage rocked through the near empty streets.
In the darkness
of the carriage they could not see the frown on Sascha's face.
Once again, Lady
Caroline found herself in a coach heading for Lady Barbara's
townhouse, but this time she was alone. She insisted that Sascha
stay at the home because Caroline planned to do a bit of shopping
afterwards. Strangely, the girl did not object to any great extent.
It was now two days since the Embassy Ball and Caroline was keeping
her engagement to join Lady Barbara for tea. She almost turned
down the invitation - for some reason Caroline awoke that morning
sick to her stomach. Fortunately, the spell passed and she felt
reasonably well.
Soon the carriage
reached its destination and Lady Caroline was shown to the parlor.
Caroline was surprised to find Lady Barbara quite alone. She
was not pleased by this; Caroline at once feared that she had
committed some unknown blunder and was now to account for it.
Still, hiding behind her mask of civilly, Caroline calmly took
the seat offered her.
"The kettle
is on the boil as we speak, Lady Caroline. That is a lovely dress
you have on. Fuchsia, is it not?"
"Er…I
suppose, Lady Barbara. The salesgirl called it Dark Rose."
Mortification joined anxiety.
"It is a lovely
color, whatever its name." The tea tray now made its appearance;
soon cups were poured and served. "Are you enjoying your
time in Vienna, Lady Caroline?" asked Lady Barbara as she
stirred her tea.
Caroline began shaking.
Now it begins…oh, what have I done? "Yes, Lady
Barbara."
"I am glad.
You have certainly made friends here."
"Thank you,
my lady; I hope I have. The ladies of the delegation are all
delightful and kind."
Lady Barbara leaned
forward and touched Caroline's hand. "I hope that you count
me as among your friends…" She stopped. "Why,
my dear - you are shivering!"
"'Tis nothing,
my lady." Caroline was near tears.
"Are you cold?
Should I have the fire lit?"
"No…please…I
am fine…" Caroline burst into sobs.
"My dear…whatever
is the matter?" cried Lady Barbara.
"Please!"
Caroline cried in return. "Keep me in suspense no longer!
Tell me what I have done - who I have offended! Who must I apologize
to? Let me make amends!"
"Lady Caroline…you
poor dear…" The older woman joined Caroline on the
couch and held her hand. "Dear child, you have offended
no one! You have nothing to apologize for."
Caroline sniffed
through her tears. "No one? Truly?"
Lady Barbara gave
her a kind smile. "You are well liked among the ladies.
You have received many complements from your efforts at the Embassy
Ball." She handed Caroline a handkerchief.
Caroline dapped
at her eyes. "Please forgive me. I do not know what came
over me…"
"Think nothing
of it. But what gave you the idea that I was displeased with
you?"
"I…I could
think of no other reason for the invitation here today, especially
with no one else attending."
"I am sorry
to have given you distress, my dear." She paused. "I
did, however, want to speak to you privately - about a certain
matter…"
Caroline steeled
herself. "Yes, my lady."
Lady Barbara sighed.
"Lady Caroline, forgive me - the diplomatic world is new
to you, as I think you would agree. It is far different from
the world of London society, or even the Court of St. James.
Here empires may rise or fall. Wars may break out or be ended.
This world attracts a certain type of individual…hard, clever
people who are used to having their own way, and know how to
get it…"
"Yes madam.
But is it so different from the ton?"
"Oh my, yes!
The ton are but children compared to what is outside these
doors. London society plays their games for sport. Diplomats
play with life and death itself. The games are far more dangerous
here."
"Forgive me,
Lady Barbara; but I do not take your meaning. You say I have
offended no one. Then what have I done wrong?"
Lady Barbara took
Caroline's hand again. "My child you have not harmed anyone,
yet. But you are in danger of harming yourself."
"Me…?"
Caroline recalled the incident with Baron von Odbart. "Oh….I
see. But all ended well. The Baron withdrew…no harm was
done…"
"But harm could
have been done…"
"Never!"
Caroline gained control of her emotions. "Forgive my outburst,
Lady Barbara; but you must understand - I would never so dishonor
myself or my husband."
"Of course
not, my child! That is not my meaning."
"Then I do
not understand."
Lady Barbara looked
into Caroline's eyes. "What of your husband, my lady?"
"Sir John?
Ha! He was in no danger…in fact he invited the scoundrel
hunting. You were there - you heard."
"Yes, I was
there; and heard his real words." Lady Barbara decided polite
words were no longer enough. "Think, Lady Caroline. You
know your husband's character. Would he actually seek out the
company of a man that sought to cuckold him?" Caroline flinched.
"Forgive my crude language, my child."
"I…I do
not know! I though the Sir John was going to call him out, I
was sure of it; but he did not…"
"Lady Caroline!"
Lady Barbara cried, "I know I have called you 'my child'
but it was a term of endearment. Are you really so thick? Did
you truly think this 'hunting' scheme was anything but a challenge?
Be glad he was unsuccessful!"
"Be glad? My
husband is no coward!"
"Would you
prefer him dead or in disgrace? This is no game. Forgive me,
my lady - I was under the impression you were fond of Sir John."
Caroline turned pale at the verbal slap. "Had his challenge
been accepted by Baron von Odbart, and had he survived, your
husband would have been sent home, dismissed from the delegation.
I do not believe you would wish this for him."
Caroline was dismayed
at her childishness. Oh, my God…she is right…and
John knew all the time and still challenged the oaf…
Lady Barbara said,
"Lady Caroline, I have distressed you…please forgive
me…"
"Oh no, my
lady," Caroline replied. She reached out to the other woman.
"It is I who must beg forgiveness. I have been unforgivably
foolish. I thank you for showing me how stupidly I have behaved.
Is it any wonder Baron von Odbart thought me a woman of easy
virtue? I have risked my husband's life and career."
"Lady Caroline,
I must disagree with you! Baron von Odbart, and the Baron alone,
is responsible for his sins. You have done nothing to warrant
censure in that matter." Lady Barbara smiled. "As for
the other issue, is there a woman alive who has not acted foolishly,
from time to time, for a man? All is well now, my dear friend,
and we have all learned a lesson."
The visit would
continue for another half-hour. It was barely enough time for
Caroline to gain control of her emotions. Yet she was still uneasy.
She had unwittingly placed her darling husband in danger. How
was she to make amends to him when she had yet to tell him that
she loved him?
Sir John was glad
that the Congress had taken the day off. It had given him the
time to catch up with his correspondence. He sat quietly in his
library for some time, reading and answering letters. He was
so occupied that he did not hear the door open.
"Sir John?"
The colonel looked
up. Sascha had closed the door behind her and was halfway across
the room. Sir John put his pen down. "Yes, Sascha. May I
help you?"
"I hope you
vill, sir." She crossed over to the desk.
As she got closer,
Sir John noticed that the top button of her blouse was undone.
"Uhh…yes?" he said stupidly, as the hairs on the
back of his neck started to rise.
The girl said nothing
- she just stood by the desk, looking him up and down through
her eyelashes. "You are so handsome - ansehnlich - mein
Liebling."
"What…?"
"Ich liebe
dich von ganzem Herzen!" Sascha cried as she threw herself
on the colonel's lap. With one hand she grabbed the back of Sir
John's neck as she kissed him furiously; with the other she seized
his hand and thrust it on her breast. "Liebe machen…"
Sir John finally
got over his surprise. He pulled his hand free and, taking hold
of Sascha by her shoulders forced her from himself and held the
girl at arm's length. He looked into her leering face. "What
are you doing…?"
"OHH!"
There was a crash.
Sir John's head
snapped to the door. There stood a shocked Lady Caroline, her
reticule on the floor.
"Caroline!"
he cried.
"Nutte!
Dieser Mann gehört mir!" screamed the girl.
With a sob, Caroline
dashed from the room, revealing Roberts and Frau Lippermann staring
into the room. Sir John leapt to his feet, which was a bad thing
for Sascha, as she no longer had a lap to sit upon. With a crash
she fell to the floor, her skirt up around her knees. Sir John
cared not; he moved quickly to the door and to Roberts said,
"Take that whore," he pointed to Sascha, "and
toss her out this instant!" To the housekeeper he pantomimed
his request. The woman simply nodded and joined Roberts in wrestling
with the enraged maid. Sir John left the library to the sound
of Sascha's curses.
Up the staircase
he dashed to find a wide-eyed Abigail outside Caroline's room.
"Abigail! Is Lady Caroline within?"
"Y…yes
sir. Oh sir, what has happened?"
"Abigail, I
need you to go downstairs. There is some trash that needs tossing
out."
She looked at her
master. "Is it Sascha?" Her face broke into a savage
grin as Sir John nodded. "It would be my pleasure!"
With that the maid hurried down the stairs.
Sir John tried the
door only to find it locked. The only answers he received to
his entreaties were heart-wrenching sobs. Finally, Sir John took
a step back, and with all his might, kicked the door in.
"Caroline…OWW!"
Sir John was a good
student at university, but he forgot Newton's Law that stated
that with every action there is an equal reaction. The door swung
open with such force from the kick that it rebounded off the
wall and came back to its original position. Unfortunately, Sir
John's head was in the way. He was struck with such force as
to knock him off his feet. He laid stunned outside his wife's
door.
"JOHN!"
cried Caroline. She flew to his side, all else forgotten. "John,
John, speak to me! Oh, you are injured! Do not move, I pray!
Help! Help!" she screamed through her tears. "Sir John
is hurt!"
Sir John, lying
on the floor, could not decide what hurt his head most - his
injury or the screams in his ears. "Caro…?"
"Oh, my dear,
do not move, help is coming!" A moment later, Roberts helped
his mistress carry the Master to her bed. "Oh, call for
a physician this instant…"
Sir John was able
to take his wife's hand. "No, my dear…not necessary…I
will be fine…"
"Sir, the person
in question has been removed from the house," reported the
valet. "Was there anything further?"
Though his throbbing
pain, Sir John managed, "No that is all." Roberts closed
the door as he left. "Caroline…" her husband began.
"Oh, don't
speak to me!" With Sir John's life no longer in danger,
Lady Caroline was free to remember her own hurt. Her tears of
fear were replaced by tears of grief. She left the bedside and
sat at her dressing table, away from him.
Colonel Buford struggled
to his feet and staggered to Caroline. "My love, listen
to me…"
"How could
you?"
His strength gone,
Sir John fell to his knees before his wife.
"John!"
she cried again.
"You must believe
me," he urged through his pain. "I have been faithful
to you. I love you so…" He fell forward on her lap.
"I have kept my word…"
Sir John's words
finally registered in Caroline's tortured mind. She looked at
him wide-eyed, spent tears running down her face. "What…what
did you say?"
He looked up. "I
have kept my word to you." He winced as a shot of pain coursed
through his head.
Caroline took his
face in her hands. "No…before that."
Sir John, defenseless,
laid his soul naked before his wife. "I love you, and only
you, with all my heart."
Lady Caroline took
a moment to take in what her husband admitted; then fell on his
face with kisses.
"Oww…ow…oh
my dear…please…" begged Sir John.
Caroline searched
her husband's face then helped him rise from the floor and walk
back to the bed. Helping him onto the bed, she then climbed in
after him and laid by his side. She took him into her arms and
put his aching head on her breast. There they laid in silence
for a time.
Finally she began.
"What had happened? Did she attack you?"
"I suppose
it could be called thus. It was certainly uninvited."
"When I saw
the state of her dress…! Oh, forgive my lack of faith in
you."
"No, my dear,
you have nothing to apologize for - what were you to think, with
the girl wrapped around my person?"
Caroline began to
chuckle. "As I look back at it, it was rather silly…"
"Silly?"
Sir John rolled onto his back.
She began to laugh
with more gusto. "Yes…it was something out of a Shakespeare
comedy…" she dissolved in laugher. "You…her…the
door…"
"Stop! It…it
wasn't that funny…" he began to laugh also. This too
went on for a time.
Finally, their laugher
sated, Sir John stoked Lady Caroline's chin with his finger.
"I meant what I said…"
Caroline closed
her eyes. Could she dare to open her heart as well? All her life
she was trained never to leave herself vulnerable, open to hurt.
Sir John deserved an answer, but the words caught in her throat.
She had to find another way.
"I believe
I need your assistance, husband." She rose on one arm to
look at him.
"Anything."
"I need to
work on my languages."
Sir John closed
his eyes. What is she talking about? "How so?"
"Well, for
example, I believe the correct phase in French is je t'aime,
is it not?" She looked down into his eyes.
Wordlessly Sir John
searched her face. Finally he said, "Yes, that is correct,
but I believe the formal version is je vous aime."
Caroline repeated,
"Je vous aime. Yes…"
Sir John swallowed.
"I must say, however, that I prefer je t'adore; 'tis
used between lovers."
Lady Caroline smiled.
"Je t'adore - it is far more agreeable, I must admit…"
as she kissed him tenderly. Sir John reached up and ran his fingers
though her hair, deepening the kiss.
Caroline moved away
slightly. "My Italian is rusty, I must say. Ti amo
I think is right…"
"Oh no - ti
voglio is much better."
Caroline's eyes
widened. "Indeed? Very well, then - ti voglio."
This time the kiss was passionate and long. "And, of course,
Spanish is te amo."
Sir John liked this
game. "Te amo, te adoro, te deseo…"
"But I have
no German, John. You must help me. Did your…friend teach
you any phrase?" she said with a grin.
Sir John was relieved
that she felt that she could jest with him. "Wench! It was
that baggage that was taught a lesson."
Her laughter rained
down on him like a summer shower. "This will never do! Teach
me, husband!"
"Let's see
now. Ich liebe dich is perfectly acceptable."
"Ich liebe
dich. Do you know Russian?"
"Ya tyebya
lyublyu, I believe."
Caroline started
to giggle. "Surely your talents know no bounds! Do you know
any others?"
"Eu adoro-te
is Portuguese. The Dutch say ik hou van je. For the Irish
it's ta gra agam ort or taim i' ngra leat."
Caroline was laughing now. "But the way I like best is the
Welsh way."
"And what do
the Welsh say, Sir John?"
"They say rwy'n
dy gari di."
Lady Caroline's
eyes sparkled. "Yes… rwy'n dy gari di…"
Sir John smiled
back. "Rwy'n dy gari di…"
The sounds of the
lovers would continue throughout most of the evening.
Caroline broke the
kiss they had been sharing. "So, Sir John, do I surmise
correctly that you 'know' Countess d'Ponchartrain?" she
asked with a smirk. Sir John groaned and rolled away from her.
She crawled over to him. "Well?"
"Caro…it
was a long time ago…years!-" She stopped him with a
fingertip.
"You mistake
my meaning, sir," she drawled. "I understand the French
have raised the act of love to an art form. Surely you have…learned
something?" She reached down and fondled his hardened manhood.
Sir John's eyes
bore into his wife's. All he saw was a mixture of pure love and
naked desire. "Do you trust me?" he asked as he stoked
her breast.
"Yes."
Sir John rose up
and took Caroline into his arms. His kiss was deep and passionate,
tongue caressing tongue. As Caroline moaned deeply, he slowly
laid her down on the bed and began kissing her cheeks, ears,
neck. Slowly he worked down her throat, while his hands caressed
her body.
Soon he was plying
her breasts with kisses and licks. Her nipples betrayed her arousal;
her hands stroked his arms and shoulders. Slowly he continued
down her body, spending not a little time with her belly button,
before pulling away.
Before Caroline
could voice her complaint, Sir John took her left foot into his
hands and raised it to his lips. Caroline looked on with wide
eyes as he first kissed her toes, then slowly worked his way
up to her knee. She could not resist moaning her approval; then
he repeated the kindness with her other foot. But this time he
did not stop at the knee - he slowly moved ever higher until
he halted just below the very center of her desire. Kissing the
insides of her thighs, he looked up at her.
Caroline thought
she would go mad with desire. She wanted him to end his games
and fulfill her need. Instead, he did the unthinkable - slowly
he lowered his mouth onto her. Caroline cried out as his tongue
violated her.
The shock of the
unseemliness of the act quickly gave way to a wave of pleasure
she had never before experienced. She could not help herself
- first her hands grasped his hair, then her legs wrapped themselves
about her husband. On and on he labored, until Caroline was shattered
into a million pieces.
Only then did he
rise from her. He beheld his wife with a wild and grateful look
in her eye. She seized his face and drew it sharply to hers for
a searing kiss. "Now, Johnny, please…" she begged
as she reached for his manhood. His need as great as hers, he
complied with alacrity. No preliminaries - he drove himself into
her, filling her as she replied with a satisfied gasp. Caroline's
green eyes bore into her husband's blue ones, urging him on.
Their coupling was mad, rushed; hands, lips everywhere; until
the satisfying conclusion to their activities was finally reached.
She convulsed in release; her flood triggering his; both crying
out in mutual delight.
As they lay spent,
Caroline took some little time before she was recovered enough
to move back into Sir John's arms. She stoked his chin while
looking into his eyes with adoration. "Rwy'n dy gari
di, Johnny."
"Rwy'n dy
gari di, Caro."
As she snuggled
into his chest, she murmured, "Remind me to send a note
of thanks to Roxanne…"
It was the middle
of the night when Lady Caroline awoke. The knock on her door
and her husband arising to answer it had broken her slumber.
She opened one eye slightly to see Sir John reading a letter
by the fireplace. The stiffness in his attitude caught her attention.
Completely awake she sat up in bed, the sheet falling away from
her naked torso. "John, what is it?"
He turned to her,
backlit by the fire, his expression unreadable. "Bonaparte
has escaped from Elba."
Grenoble, France
- March 7, 1815
The men of the 5th
Regiment stood nervously across the road to Grenoble. Before
them were over a thousand people, many of them armed. Their orders
were to arrest the Tyrant who dared leave his exile on Elba.
The officers moved about the soldiers, reminding them of their
duty to the king.
Suddenly, a man
approached on horseback. He wore a simple military greycoat and
a cocked hat with a tricolor cockerel at the peak. He stopped
and observed the forces before him. He then dismounted and approached
the soldiers alone, on foot. When the man was within earshot
of the men, he threw open his coat, the Legion of Honor clearly
visible, and shouted, "Soldiers of the Fifth, you recognize
me! If any man would shoot his emperor, he may do so now!"
Following a brief
silence, the soldiers and officers erupted into shouts of "Vive
L'Empereur!"
The Emperor basked
in the adulation for a couple of moments before returning to
his horse. He had been called many things in his lifetime: genius,
monster, law-giver, tyrant, Defender of the Revolution, Destroyer
of Mankind. But no one doubted his personal courage, or underestimated
his knowledge of men's hearts. Today he had reminded the world
of those talents.
The soldiers sent
to stop the Tyrant instead joined the ranks behind him to march
with the Emperor to Paris.
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