Writ in blood : a novel of Saint-Germain Read online

  “Do you need any assistance from me?” her husband asked as he regarded her proudly.

  “Not really, but I could use your company,” she replied, slipping her hand through the crook of his arm. “Will you join us, Franchot?”

  Remembering he had several tasks to accomplish over the next twenty-four hours, Ragoczy bowed slightly. “It would be my honor,” he

  Writ in Blood

  said, falling into step beside them and listening courteously as Clarice Pearce-Manning led the way back toward the main hall. She began to recite the history of the family, starting with the alliance of the Mannings and Pearces at the time of the Restoration.

  “The Pearces were not staunch supporters of the Stewarts, you know, and when Charles II returned as King, they decided it would be wise to include a more truly Royalist name in their own.” She smiled at Ragoczy, the first stirrings of triumph within her.

  “A prudent act,” said Ragoczy, hoping, as he heard the continuing chronicle of the family, that he would be able to find out more about Sinclair-Howard during the evening, that he would have a chance for a private word with Prime Minister Asquith the following morning, and that he might discover why Rowena Pearce-Manning wanted to be a painter.

  Text of a note from Herzog Vaclav Persuic to Baron Klemens von Wol-gast.

  Trieste February 25, 1910

  My dear von Wolgast;

  Let me thank you again for the entertainment you provided during my visit to Berlin; Italian-Croatian relations have never been so fervent, and to have had the privilege of meeting the sublime Nadezna as well: I will not soon forget the evening; I have become the envy of my colleagues because of it.

  I have met with my associates and discussed what I have observed of your improved mechanism. They are inclined to purchase the items we reviewed, but my superior wishes to see for himself before our order is official. 1 trust you will receive him in the same generous spirit you showed to me.

  If all goes well, we can conclude our negotiations to our mutual satisfaction before August. At that time, a suitable deposit will be made to guarantee your prompt attention to our order, as well as a speedy and reliable delivery. For us, time is an important factor in our dealings, which I urge you to remember.

  With anticipation of a happy resolution in our dealings, I express my confidence in your product and your integrity.

  Vaclav Persuic

  Ragoczy stared down at the telegram in his hand, his attractive, irregular features set in world-weary lines which were softened by the faded evening light coming from the windows of his laboratory at the top of his leased house. Methodically he folded the telegram and put it into his inner jacket pocket before glancing up at Roger, who waited in the door leading to his study. “We are going to Berlin in ten days. Nicholas does not want us to linger here when we might be making more progress with Wilhelm.” The slight lift of his brows revealed eloquently his sardonic agreement with this notion.

  “Ten days?” Roger asked. “Not immediately?”

  “My departure is not to appear rushed. Nicholas tells me to make it known that business dealings are calling me away from London, so that no one will speculate about the reason for my leaving: he includes Edward in that. Apparently he is not as sanguine about his uncle s cooperation as he was when I left Saint Petersburg.” He went to the window and stared out through the filmy curtains into the gathering dusk; three floors down he could see Harris returning in the Vauxhall from tea with his sisters family. The headlamps marked his turning into the alley leading to the garage at the side of the small back garden. “Made-laine is returning to Monbussy-sur-Marne in a month. I had hoped to visit her, if only for a day or two, before going to Berlin.”

  “Perhaps when you return to London?” Roger suggested. “There will probably be a return to London, I should think, and you might reasonably go through France as through Holland.” He was stretching a point and he knew it.

  “You’re right, of course. It would be easier, making most of the trip by train,” Ragoczy conceded with a quirk of a smile. “And with any luck we will have the opportunity to—” He stopped. “This is foolish of me.” “Not foolish, my master. You are lonely.” Roger had long since earned the privilege of making such blunt observations to Ragoczy. “And you did not visit any of the women at Longacres in her sleep, so you have not had even that to sustain you.”

  “There are others,” said Ragoczy, his voice remote.

  “Such as the woman last night? The one who does not talk to for-

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  eigners?” Rogers voice was low and respectful, but his disbelief was obvious; though he challenged Ragoczy, it was from concern, not impudence. “Was your visit to persuade her she was wrong about foreigners or to take your sustenance from the pleasure she had of her dreams?” Ragoczy stood silent for a short while, then turned away from the window. “Why it is you always require me to accept my nature so uncompromisingly?”

  “I? If I do it is because it is what you strive to do. You are more rigorous than I am,” said Roger, his voice level. “Only when you are feeling most isolated do you resort to such risks.”

  “It is no simple matter to make the required connections to fulfill my needs wholly,” Ragoczy said, sad, wry amusement in his dark eyes.

  “You have managed it under more difficult circumstances than these,” Roger reminded him sharply. “As the Emirs son learned to his distress.”

  “But never under such constant scrutiny as I am now: not even the Emirs son kept such stringent watch,” said Saint-Germain. “Oh, you thought I was unaware of that fox-faced man with the ginger mustache who has been following me for well over a week? To say nothing of the retired soldier who is doing a very poor job of his work?” He turned his small hands upward, to show his indecision. “I suppose the soldier is employed by someone in the British government, possibly for Sinclair-Howard, but perhaps not. The second man, however—he may be employed by the Czar, one of his ministers, or any number of others. I cannot easily determine who employs him. With such attention to my movements, it is not an opportune time to court anyone. So I will limit myself to dreams and the satisfaction I can share with the women I visit.”

  Roger said nothing for a moment, then remarked, “Didn’t you receive an invitation from Miss Pearce-Manning to visit her studio?”

  With a crack of laughter, Ragoczy said, “Is my curiosity about her so obvious. Yes. And well you know it.”

  “Your watchers would not think too much of it if you should visit her—not after the weekend at Longacres. They already know you went there.” He studiously avoided looking directly at Ragoczy. “She must have interest in you, as well, or she might not have invited you.”

  “She might not,” Ragoczy said neutrally.

  “Where is the harm in going, then?” Roger asked, and prepared to leave Ragoczy to his thoughts and his laboratory.

  “Remember, we must leave in ten days,” Ragoczy warned him.

  “Ten days is ample time—for a great many things. Harris will be in

  the kitchen by now.” He bowed slightly and left the room, closing the door with care.

  Ragoczy remained where he was for some little time, then went to his trestle table; his volume of notes on fuel designs lay open, and next to it, a note in his small, neat hand, politely declining Rowena Pearce-Mannings invitation to her studio. The light in his laboratory was almost gone, but his eyes were not hampered by darkness. He picked this up, read it through twice, then tore it in half and drew another sheet of paper from his stationery box. He sat down on the tall stool in front of the table, pulled his pen from his waistcoat breast pocket, and began to write a second note to Rowena, this time accepting her invitation.

  The next morning two short letters arrived at Ragoczys house within half an hour of each other: one, delivered by messenger, from Edward VII, requesting Ragoczy join him for another private conversation that evening at the Duke of York s Theatre for the performance
of Shaws new play Misalliance ; Julian Sinclair-Howard would be charged with bringing him to the antechamber of the Kings Box where they might speak without fear of interruption. Rowena Pearce-Mannings reply, coming with the morning post, was less specific, informing Ragoczy of the times during the next week when he could find her at her studio.

  By evening Ragoczy was in full formal wear, but once again without the Orders to emblazon him. “If I am to be inconspicuous,” he said to Roger as he prepared to leave for the Duke of Yorks Theatre, “I should not spangle myself.”

  Roger held Ragoczy s cloak for him. “I will have your study ready for you when you return.”

  “Do not worry, old friend,” said Ragoczy quietly. “I am not planning to get my hopes up. If King Edward wishes to discuss the rudiments of an agreement, I will think my task has gone well. The Czar may not be entirely satisfied, but I will.” He frowned as he drew on his Florentine gloves. “Sinclair-Howard is behaving as if he has been . . . what is the expression? brought to heel.”

  “You do not sound fully convinced about this,” said Roger.

  “I am not. And I wish I knew why.” He took his tall silk hat, carrying it rather than wearing it. “Well, Harris is waiting,” he added briskly, and went out of his house to the Silver Ghost, standing like a metal wraith in the thickening fog.

  “Good evening to you, Count,” said Harris as Ragoczy climbed in.

  “And to you, Harris.” He paused as he settled himself, then said, “If you would like to see the play tonight, I will provide you a ticket.” He had already arranged for it, knowing he would have to wait until the

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  play was finished to depart; to do anything else would draw too much attention to his mission.

  Harris had confined his theatre-going to music halls and the occasional pantomime, and so hesitated. “Will it be very long, sir?”

  “It may seem so.” Ragoczy sighed, then relented. “But as it happens, I am not fond of Mister Shaws plays, which are more like debates than dramas. You may enjoy it well enough.”

  “Then, yes, Count, I would like to see it—to be able to say I have.” This candid confession of social ambition made Ragoczy smile.

  They arrived at the Duke of York’s Theatre a scant eight minutes before the curtain was to rise; the fog had slowed their progress through the London traffic. A place had been marked for Ragoczy’s Rolls-Royce, which Harris greeted with the gratitude of a sailor sighting land.

  “There is a ticket at the box office in your name. Just tell them who you are and then go where the usher directs you.” Ragoczy lost no time getting out of the Silver Ghost and striding away into the theatre.

  “Count,” Sinclair-Howard exclaimed with a great display of courtesy belied by the hard expression in his blue eyes. He had jostled his way through the arriving audience to reach the newcomer. “I was beginning to wonder if you would be here in time. I should not have worried.” His blather stopped short as Ragoczy interrupted.

  “I would prefer not to keep the King waiting.” He softened this with a slight smile, but Sinclair-Howard took it as a rebuke.

  “Of course.” He was stiff with umbrage. “If you will be good enough to follow me? Mind the stairs.”

  The King was in high color and tending to wheeze as he greeted Ragoczy in the anteroom. “I wanted to have another chance to speak with you before you depart: I am informed you are leaving shortly for the Continent.”

  “Berlin. Yes. I have business dealings there that require my attention.” Ragoczy had bowed and now accepted Edward’s invitation to sit opposite him.

  “And, of course, my newy Wilhelm is there.” There was sly and cynical amusement in Edward’s eyes. “I would have thought you had a more creditable excuse than this one. Business dealings!” he scoffed.

  Ragoczy was unruffled. “I am the patron of a ballet school there, and I have investments in two Berlin companies, one of them working with Karl Landsteiner to develop more reliable ways of analyzing blood, incorporating the work of Phoebus Levene in America.” He recalled his excitement when he had learned of the two scientists’ work on blood. “The other company is developing fuels for motor cars and lorries. My

  solicitor will vouch for this, if you want to assure yourself of these things.”

  “No doubt he would vouch for you, as any worthwhile solicitor would,” said Edward with a sour smile. “All right. For the sake of argument, we will agree that it is business and not Nichi that calls you away to Berlin.” He spread his thick hands on his knees. “And speaking of Nichi, we ought to reach some land of gentlemen’s agreement about this arms limitation business, so that we will not have to start all over in the summer, when I will be able to address the question publicly.” He kept his voice low so as not to disturb those in the box behind them listening to the play.

  “I would be grateful to you, Majesty.” Ragoczy began to hope his visit this evening had not been in vain.

  “I’m not doing this for you, I am doing it because I can see what Nichi is worried about. He is nearer the problem than I am. That doesn’t mean I have no appreciation of the European situation. The signs are everywhere around us, aren’t they? The world is changing, and not only in matters of industry and trade. You need only look at Vienna to realize that some changes will come, whether we want them or not.” He leaned back in his chair as if to draw more air in when he breathed.

  Ragoczy watched the King with increased concern: Edward was definitely worse than he had been a dozen or so days ago. “Majesty, forgive me for saying this, but you appear to be in need of rest.” It was the most indirect way he could express his apprehension.

  “What King is not?” Edward asked, scowling. “I have heard much the same from my physician these five years and more.”

  Hearing this, Ragoczy felt real alarm. “How do you mean?”

  Edward waved the question away. “It is nothing. Let us devote ourselves to the question of arms.” It was much more an order than a suggestion. “You tell me Nichi wants Wilhelm and me to join with him in exerting pressure on the manufacturers of arms in our own countries, that pressure intended to bring about a reduction of development and sales of arms. Probably a sensible thing in Russia, given the political climate there. I am not certain the problem is as urgent here in England, or in Europe.” He coughed and went on. “I cannot achieve any useful limitation without the help of Parliament, as Nichi cannot without the Duma to support it, assuming it is possible to do. How does he propose to manage that?”

  Ragoczy leaned forward so that Edward would hear him clearly. “I believe it is his intention to present your private agreement to the

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  Duma as a fait accompli, so that the debates of factions will not enter into the process.”

  “And if Wilhelm and I do the same, he assumes the deed will be done? That our governments will have to support it?” He pulled at his lower lip. “It might work, if we were all to act at the same time. That way it would not seem that any of us is at a disadvantage in relation to the others. I can’t think how you will convince Wilhelm of this, but if you are able, I am willing to make the attempt.”

  “To endorse a policy of arms limitation,” Ragoczy said, in order to be certain they understood each other.

  Edward nodded ponderously. “As long as Wilhelm cooperates with us.” He wagged a finger in Ragoczys direction. “You will have your work cut out for you, Count. Wilhelm is not so temperate a man as I can be, or Nichi.”

  “I have met the Kaiser a few times, and I am familiar with his reputation,” said Ragoczy carefully.

  “With businesses in Germany and Austria, you must have done,” said Edward. “Well, I can give you no advice on how to approach him. In many ways he and I are as different as chalk and cheese. You are probably more able to determine the most persuasive approach than I am.” He paused, trying to listen to the dialogue from the stage. “Someone is bound to ask me what I thin
k of this.”

  “Say it is thought-provoking,” Ragoczy recommended. “Shaw would like that.”

  “Thought-provoking. Isn’t that a trifle obvious?” Edward asked, amusement glittering in his eyes.

  “Perhaps. But it would be fitting,” Ragoczy said drily.

  With a breathy chuckle, Edward returned his attention to Ragoczy s purpose for attending. “So you will know what to report: I am willing to request that Parliament adopt an arms-limitation policy so long as Russia and Germany do the same, and at the same time. I will not lead the way, and I do not think the government will be willing to enter into such an agreement after the fact. Tell my nephew that. I trust it will help bring a happy result.” He prepared to rise. “Would you care to join us, Count?”

  Knowing better than to refuse an offer from King Edward, Ragoczy said, “I would be delighted, Majesty,” even as he resigned himself to an evening he had little hope of liking. He consoled himself with the realization that he would have another opportunity to speak with the King before the evening was over.

  Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  But by the end of the play, Edwards color was ashen and Ragoczy did not want to detain the ailing King any longer than necessary. He bowed and thanked Edward for his courtesy, and received a brusque acknowledgement as Edward left his box. Julian Sinclair-Howard was waiting at the entrance to the boxes, unctuously watching the departing audience.

  “Was this worth the effort?” the young man asked Ragoczy.

  “Yes.” Ragoczy was not inclined to confide in Sinclair-Howard. “I must express my gratitude at your arranging my first meeting with the King. This evening might not have been possible without it.”