Marianne's heart missed a beat. Could this be news from Compiègne at last? Snatching the letter she glanced hurriedly at the superscription. It told her nothing. The writing was strange to her, and the seal was plain black. Nervously, she slipped her finger underneath the wafer and opened the missive. It was unsigned and contained only one short paragraph.
'If the Signorina Maria Stella will condescend to come on the night of Tuesday the twenty-seventh to the chateau of Braine-sur-Vesle she will be conferring untold happiness upon her ardent admirer. The name of the domain is La Folie and folly perhaps is the presumption of him who will await her there. Prudence and discretion.'
The letter was strange and stranger still the appointed meeting place. Without a word, Marianne handed the letter to Arcadius and watched him raise one eyebrow as he glanced at the contents.
'Odd,' was his comment, 'but not incomprehensible.'
What do you mean?'
'That now that the Archduchess is actually on French soil, the Emperor is obliged to exercise the utmost discretion. And that the village of Braine-sur-Vesle is on the road between Rheims and Soissons – and it is at Soissons that the new Empress is to spend the night of the twenty-seventh.'
'You think the letter comes from him?'
'Who else would ask you to meet him in that way in such a place? I think—' Arcadius paused, reluctant to name the man whose identity must be concealed. 'I think he means to give you the final proof of his love by spending a few moments with you at the very moment of arrival of the woman he is marrying for reasons of state. That should allay your fears.'
Marianne needed no further persuasion. Her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks on fire, her whole being absorbed in her love, and she could think of nothing but that in a little while now she would be in Napoleon's arms again. Arcadius was right. In spite of all his elaborate caution, he was giving her this one, great, wonderful token of his love.
'I will set out tomorrow,' she announced. Tell Gracchus to have my horse ready.'
Will you not take a carriage? The distance is nearly a hundred miles and the weather appalling.'
'I am advised to be discreet,' she smiled. 'A single rider will attract less attention than a smart carriage with a coachman and outriders. I am an excellent horsewoman, you know.'
'So am I,' Jolival retorted. 'I will tell Gracchus to saddle two horses. I am going with you.'
'Is there any need? You don't think—?'
'I think you are a young woman and the roads are none too safe. Braine is only a village and this rendezvous of yours is to take place after dark in a place not known to me. You must not be thinking I suspect – well, you know who – but I shall not leave your side until I see you in good hands. After that, I shall find a bed for myself at the inn.'
His tone admitted no argument and Marianne did not insist. All things considered, she would be glad of Arcadius's company on a journey that would take three days there and back. But she could not help thinking that it was all rather complicated and would have been much easier if the Emperor had taken her to Compiègne and installed her in a house in the town. However, rumour had it that the Princess Pauline Borghese was at Compiègne with her brother and that she had with her her favourite lady-in-waiting, the very same Christine de Mathis who had preceded Marianne in Napoleon's affections.
What am I thinking?' Marianne asked herself suddenly. 'I am seeing rivals everywhere. I must be jealous. I will have to watch myself.'
The sound of the front door slamming shut came to give her thoughts another turn. It was Adelaide returning from the evening service which she attended on most days, less out of piety, in Marianne's secret belief, than to take a good look at her neighbours. Mademoiselle d'Asselnat had a cat-like curiosity which ensured that she always had some titbits of gossip and observation to bring home which proved that her Maker had not held her undivided attention.
Taking the hand Arcadius held out to her, Marianne got to her feet and smiled.
'Here is Adelaide,' she smiled. 'We shall have all the latest gossip while we dine.'
CHAPTER TWO
A Little Country Church
Some time the next afternoon, Marianne and Arcadius dismounted before the inn of the Soleil d'Or at Braine. The weather was horrible: a steady downpour had been drowning the country round about since daybreak, and in spite of their heavy cloaks the two riders were drenched to the skin and in urgent need of shelter and something hot to drink.
They had been travelling since the previous day, making as much speed as possible; Arcadius wanted to see the lie of the land before the time set for the strange meeting. They took two rooms at the inn, the one modest hostelry the village boasted, and then made their way to the coffee room, empty of customers at this hour, to partake respectively of a bowl of soup and a cup of mulled wine. In a little while, an hour or two at most, the new Empress of the French was to pass through Braine on her way to Soissons where she was to dine and stay for the night.
Rain or no rain, the whole village was out of doors, dressed in its holiday best, gathered under the garlands and the fairy lights that were sizzling out one by one. A dais draped in the colours of France and Austria had been set up near the church where the local dignitaries would be taking their places under umbrellas to address the new Empress as she passed through. Through the open door of the fine old church came the sound of the choir practising its hymn of welcome to the cavalcade. Only Marianne felt more miserable than ever, although her gloom was shot through with curiosity. When the time came, she would go out with the rest to catch a glimpse of the woman she could not help thinking of as her rival, that daughter of the enemy who, simply because she was born on the steps of a throne, dared to steal her place beside the man she loved.
Unusually for him, Arcadius was as silent as Marianne. He leaned his elbows on the coarse-grained wooden table, polished by generations of other elbows, staring into the deep purple wine steaming in the pottery bowl before him. He seemed so abstracted that Marianne was impelled to ask what he was thinking.
'About your assignation for tonight,' he told her and he sighed.
'Now that we are here, it seems stranger than ever. So strange that I am beginning to wonder if the message can have come from the Emperor.'
'Who else? And why not from him?'
'What do you know of the chateau of La Folie?'
'Why, nothing. I have never been here before.'
'I have, but so long ago that I had almost forgotten. The landlord refreshed my memory just now when I called for our order. The chateau of La Folie, my dear, is the charming pile you may perceive from where we sit. It seems to me a rather sombre setting for an amorous tryst.'
As he spoke, he pointed to a wooded eminence rising steeply from the far bank of the River Vesle where the massive, half-ruined shape of a thirteenth-century castle loomed in medieval decay through the grey curtain of rain. Walls blackened by time and warfare presented a sinister appearance which the budding green of the surrounding trees was powerless to dispel. Marianne frowned, conscious of a strange wave of foreboding.
'That Gothic ruin? Is that the castle I am to visit?'
'That and no other. What do you think of it?'
For answer, Marianne stood up and swept up the gloves she had placed on the table by her place.
'That it may well be a trap. I have seen them before. Remember the circumstances of our first meeting, my dear Jolival, and our tender treatment at the hands of Fanchon Fleur-de-Lis in the quarries of Chaillot. Will you go and fetch the horses? We'll pay a visit to this unlikely love nest here and now, although I would give much to be mistaken.'