Evil in a Mask (61 page)

‘Oh, Roger, darling! You should have seen his eyes light up. For the next three days and the best part of three nights he never left my side. He parted from me with the greatest reluctance and vowed that, had we both not been married he would have risked his brother's, the Emperor's, displeasure, to marry me.'

‘What a delightful romance, and what a clever witch you
are' Turning over in bed, Roger added, ‘Does Ulrich know of this?'

‘I could not conceal the fact that two gentlemen had stayed here in his absence. But I had already found out about his disgusting practices; so, had he asked me, I would have told him the truth. No doubt it was to avoid the possibility of a futile scene that he refrained from doing so.'

‘Tell me, though, how can the Archduke help us in the matter of your Charles?'

Georgina propped herself up on one elbow. ‘Why, do you not see? Austria is not under the yoke of Napoleon. As an independent Power, Napoleon cannot prevent her maintaining diplomatic relations with England. Couriers must come and go between Vienna and London. Can you but get Charles to Vienna, I am confident that John will see to it that he is conveyed safely home.'

Pulling her down again, Roger kissed her. ‘Dear heart, you have solved the worst part of our problem. Now, this is what must be done. Tomorrow you must tell Charles that, greatly as it grieves you, for his sake you are sending him home, and that it must be made to appear that he has run away. He should leave a letter for you, saying that he is homesick and can bear life here no longer; then ask your forgiveness for having taken money and some of your less valuable trinkets to pay for his journey. The latter you will give him; I will provide him with money. The next day, Saturday, he must vanish; but remain concealed somewhere in the neighbourhood where I can pick him up when we leave on Monday morning.'

Georgina pondered for a time, then she said, ‘Your plan is sound, but where to hide him for two days I cannot think. There is a hut some half a mile away, down on the shore, where we keep our fishing tackle. When you leave here, your coach will pass within a hundred yards of it. But, once Charles is missed, and I produce his letter, there will be a most ghastly rumpus. The whole district will be searched for him, and it's as good as certain that someone will look in the hut.'

‘Let him go there, then; but not until first thing on Monday
morning. Meanwhile, surely there is some place in the Castle where you can hide him?'

‘They will search it from cellar to attic, on the off chance that, at the last moment, he lacked the courage to make off, and has hidden from fear of punishment.'

‘I cannot believe that there is no place in this great pile where they would not look.'

‘Wait!' Georgina sat up again and said excitedly, ‘I have it. The
Weinstube
at the back of the Castle. The vintage is over; the pressing room will remain closed until next year. Charles could lie concealed inside one of the big presses. Then, even if someone looked into the room, he could not be seen, and on the Saturday and Sunday nights I could take him food.'

‘To remain in such confined quarters for two nights and a day would be a considerable ordeal,' Roger commented dubiously. ‘Think you the boy could endure it?'

‘For that I'll vouch,' Georgina replied with conviction. ‘Young as he is, he prides himself upon being an English nobleman, and a direct descendant of Charles II. He knows backwards the story of the King's forty-three days and nights escaping from his enemies after Worcester fight. He will think of himself as hiding in Boscobel Oak.'

‘Ah, now you reassure me! That, then, is the plan we will adopt. One thing more. Before Saturday night I want you to get for me something of his. A penknife, or an odd sheet of work that he has done for his tutor, would do. Anything which would enable me to lay a false trail, that will be found after his disappearance.'

On the Friday, the Baron took Roger and a party of other gentlemen to shoot buck in his forests inland, beyond the vineyards. That night, Georgina told Roger that, greatly as Charles was distressed at the thought of leaving her, he had agreed that it was for the best; as he realised what was behind his stepfather's attentions, and loathed and was frightened by them.

Roger then told her the full truth about Lisala. When he had done, she sighed, ‘How terrible that such evil should lurk in so beautiful a person. And your lot, my love, is worse than
mine. Apart from being a pervert, Ulrich is not a bad man. He would never delight in flinging his depravity in my face, much less murder one of his parents.'

Saturday they went to dine at a neighbouring castle, but Roger was careful to drink sparingly of the rich wine, as he had work to do during the coming night. At one o'clock in the morning, he and Georgina took Charles down to the
Weinstube
. There were three large, circular presses there, about six feet in height; with, protruding from each, four great capstan bars which, when pushed round by the vintagers, wound a stout lid down an enormous screw, and so crushed the grapes.

When they had lined the bottom of the press with a layer of cushions, and lowered into it a supply of food and drink, the boy took a tearful leave of his mother, shook Roger by the hand, and bravely climbed into the press. Then Roger assisted the weeping Georgina back to her own room, where he spent half an hour doing his best to console her.

Reluctantly leaving her, he again went downstairs, let himself out of a side door, and walked down the steep, curving road to the big boathouse on the shore. To get in, he had to force the lock but that suited his plan. In the long shed there were seven boats of various sizes. Clambering into one of the smaller rowing boats, he tethered the smallest of all to her stern, then unlatched the water gate and rowed out into the river.

To cross it entailed a quarter of an hour of hard pulling and the strong, swift current swept him nearly a mile downstream before he reached the far bank. Having beached the boat he was in, and untied the rope by which he had towed over the smaller one, he drew it right up on to the shore. With him he had brought a small book belonging to Charles, which Georgina had got for him. It was in English, and a history of King Charles' escape after Worcester, so was a perfect clue to the identity of its owner. He left the book in the prow of the boat, as though it had fallen unnoticed from Charles' pocket as he jumped ashore.

Although he recrossed the river as directly as the current would permit, and made the greater part of his way back close
in to the shore, it took him over an hour of strenuous effort before he reached the boathouse. Tethering the boat where he had found it, he wearily ascended the winding mountain road, eventually to reach his room stumbling with fatigue.

On Sunday mornings, it was customary for everyone at the Schloss to attend chapel. The inmates were about to take their places, when Charles' tutor arrived hotfoot, to report that the boy had not slept in his bed, and he could not be found. The service was abandoned, everyone exclaiming in dismay; Georgina went to her boudoir, then produced the letter Charles had left, saying that she had just found it lying on her work basket.

The Baron was furious, and declared that the boy must be caught and brought back at all costs. A party that had been arranged for later in the day, to taste the
must
of the new vintage, was promptly cancelled. Georgina, in tears that needed no forcing, went to her bedroom, but soon after emerged to say that several of her rings were missing, and some sixty
thalers
that she kept in a drawer against emergencies. Lisala, ignorant of the secret manœuvres that had taken place, endeavoured to console her for the loss of her son. Roger expressed his deepest sympathy for his host, and offered his aid in the search for the missing Charles.

To Roger's amazement, von Haugwitz burst into tears and exclaimed, ‘I loved the boy. I loved him.' Ostensibly, that could be taken as a strong expression of the affection a man had developed for his stepson. But to Roger it was evidence of the strength of his host's illicit passion. Swiftly recovering, the Baron summoned the bodyguard which tradition allowed him to retain, and who were now employed in the Castle as servants, gamekeepers and vine-dressers. As Georgina had foreseen, a number of them were set to search the Castle, in case Charles' courage had failed him at the last moment, and he had hidden himself somewhere in it. Others were despatched to east and west along the shore of the river, and others again to scour the wooded hinterland.

Shortly before midday, it was discovered that a small rowing boat was missing from the boathouse. By two o'clock it
was found, and Charles' book brought to the Baron. He gave way to a passion of rage and tears, for the land on the west bank of the Rhine had, for many years past, been a part of France, and he could not send his men across, because he had no authority there. Now despairing, he called the search off and, in a state of misery, shut himself up in his room.

In the small hours of the morning, having taken fresh food to her boy, Georgina was able to tell Roger that Charles was bearing up well. But she was unutterably distressed at having finally parted from him. All had, so far, gone well with their plans, and it was their last night together, but a far from happy one. Roger held his love tightly in his arms, while she sobbed on his shoulder. When, at length, she was about to leave him, she said bitterly:

‘We have both made fools of ourselves by our recent marriages. But I am the more to blame. They would never have come about had I only listened to your pleading last time we were together in England. Oh, how happy we could be as husband and wife at Stillwaters. But perhaps some day …' Then, like a wraith, she vanished, and the door closed silently behind her.

Next morning, after many expressions of gratitude and renewed protestations of distress at Charles' having run away, Roger and Lisala took their departure. Instead of mounting his charger, Roger had his man lead it, and entered the coach with Lisala.

As soon as the cumbersome vehicle began, with its brakes on, to slither down the steep descent, Lisala remarked lightly:

‘Well, I trust your old love came up to your expectations in bed.'

Roger turned to stare at her, as she went on. ‘Maybe you have forgotten that, when we were so passionately enamoured of each other in Isfahan, you told me of your boy and girl
affaire
in Hampshire before you went to France; and, that, although you have since seen the lady only at long intervals you had become life-long friends. The moment I saw your great Georgina at Erfurt, I realised that it was she who, on and off, for years has been your mistress.'

‘Believe that if you wish,' Roger shrugged. ‘'Tis all one to me.'

‘Oh, I make no complaint.' Lisala smiled sweetly. ‘I found the Baron excellent company. He came to my room the second night and played a man's part vigorously; and again on Friday. Saturday he was so upset that he failed me. But I now understand the reason for that. Last night he came to me again and persuaded me to play the part of a boy. It was a new experience for me, and one I did not greatly care for. But with practice it might have possibilities.'

‘For Christ's sake, be silent!' Roger stormed. ‘You utterly disgust me! But you are right about the Baron being a pederast and that is the true reason for young Charles' disappearance. Georgina and I stage-managed it, and shortly we shall pick him up.'

Lisala's great eyes opened wide. ‘So Georgina's weeping was all a sham?'

‘Certainly not. If you had any maternal feelings, you would realise her acute distress at having had to send him away.'

By that time the coach had reached the road that wound along the river bank. When it came level with the hut where the fishing tackle was kept, Roger called to his coachman to pull up. Getting out, he glanced back up at the Castle. Trees hid it, except for its topmost tower. Reassured that no-one there was likely to be overlooking them, he ran towards the hut. At that moment, Charles emerged. He was pale and looked very woe-begone, but Roger took him by the arm, laughed and said:

‘Well done, my son. The endurance you have displayed does you great credit. Your mama and I are very proud of you. And be of good heart. Within a few weeks, you will be back at Stillwaters.'

Pushing the boy into the coach, he said to Lisala, ‘Here is someone new to exercise your charm upon, but I pray you refrain from questioning him.' Then he mounted his horse and the coach moved on.

Eight days later they reached Vienna, and put up at the
Double Eagle. Next morning, Roger went to the Hofberg and enquired for the Archduke John.

To his relief, the Archduke was in residence and, a quarter of an hour later, received him In his apartment. With due respect, Roger presented a letter Georgina had given him.

While the Archduke was reading it, Roger studied him with an appraising eye. He was of medium height, stalwart and handsome, apart from the thick Habsburg lip. He had spoken crisply and had the bearing people always hoped to see in a man of his high rank. Roger decided that, this time, Georgina had had ample reason to succumb to a lover's personality.

Looking up from the letter, the Archduke said, ‘It is sad that the Baroness should find it necessary to part with her son. But I understand her feeling that a noble youth of English birth should be educated at Eton. Bring him to me,
Monsieur le Colonel
, and you may rely upon it that I will arrange for him to be sent safely back to England.'

He then asked eagerly after Georgina. Without going into particulars, Roger disclosed that he had known her for many years. For half an hour they talked in most friendly fashion of her charm, then the Archduke invited Roger to dine the following night. But Roger begged to be excused, because duty required him to rejoin Napoleon with a minimum of delay.

That evening he handed Charles over. The boy displayed great reluctance to be parted from him; but the Archduke showed him such kindness, saying that he must call him Uncle John, that Charles' fears at being left dependent on a stranger ebbed away and, when Roger bade him farewell, he accepted his situation quite cheerfully.