During Roger’s pursuit of Selma, the Grand Council of the Congress had continued its frequently acrimonious discussions and appointed ten Committees to advise it on special questions. Several of them concerned themselves with special areas of Europe, others with the international rivers, diplomatic precedence, statistics and the slave trade.
The last question was never resolved satisfactorily by the Congress. Britain and most other countries had abolished the trade several years before, and Castlereagh had promised Wilberforce, the determined leader of this humane movement, to do his utmost to secure unanimity on it. But Castlereagh’s efforts were thwarted by the Spanish member of the Council, Don Pedro Labrador—a most tiresome and long-winded man—who, supported by Portugal, insisted that their countries could not possibly agree to Abolition for at least another eight years.
Another personality who made a great nuisance of himself was a Corsican named Pozzo de Borgo. He was one of the foreign advisers to whom the Czar lent a ready ear, and an old enemy of Napoleon’s, so he lost no opportunity of carrying on his vendetta against the Bonapartes.
Naples had sent two deputations, one from Napoleon’s brother-in-law, King Murat, to urge that he should be allowed to retain his throne, the other from Ferdinand, the Bourbon King of the two Sicilies—who had escaped from the French to his island—to urge that he should be given back the mainland half of his kingdom. Talleyrand, on the orders of Louis XVIII, who naturally wished to see his relative restored, pressed the case for the Bourbons. But Metternich, having been Queen Caroline’s lover, supported her husband, Murat, and the matter was further complicated by Lord Aberdeen, when Ambassador to Austria, having committed Britain, without consulting Castlereagh, to giving Austria a free hand in Italy.
The Swedes succeeded in getting confirmed their claim to Norway, which Bernadotte had recently annexed; and Castlereagh achieved one of his major objects in establishing William of Orange as King of both Holland and Belgium. Count Capo d’Istria, the representative of Corfu, pulled off an excellent coup. He feared that his neighbours, the Turks, who then ruled Greece, might invade his island, so he persuaded Castlereagh to take it over as a British colony; thus ensuring its protection for many years until the Greeks gained their independence, and Britain voluntarily handed it over to them.
But there remained many questions upon which agreement could not yet be reached. The behaviour of Lord William Bentinck, Britain’s Ambassador to King Ferdinand of Sicily, caused grave concern. Without consulting anyone, he had forced the King to give his subjects a constitution; but, as the Sicilians were extremely backward, democracy failed to work with them and resulted in hopeless confusion. He then dashed off to Genoa and, again without authority, published a declaration restoring the independence of that ancient, and once powerful, Republic. This directly conflicted with Castlereagh’s understanding with Metternich that, when Austria and Murat between them had defeated and driven out the French Army of Italy, commanded by Eugène de Beauharnais, the whole of northern Italy should again become part of the Austrian Empire.
A prime cause for acrimonious discussion in the Grand Council was the future of Germany. Unlike Sicily, the conglomeration of small principalities, ecclesiastical enclaves and Free Cities on the far side of the Rhine, Hanover, Westphalia, Mecklenberg and Saxony had all been overrun by Napoleon, and the French had brought with them the doctrines of the Revolution. The German lower orders had gleefully accepted their liberation from serfdom and, naturally, now wished for democratic government. To that both Castlereagh and Metternich, in accordance with their principles, were most strongly opposed, whereas the Czar, in his idealistic conception of himself as the great Christian Liberator, championed the demand for government by the people, and he was supported by Frederick William of Prussia, who had already introduced many reforms in his kingdom.
Even more violent disagreements concerned the boundaries of territories. For centuries the Holy Roman Empire had been the one great power in Central Europe. All the many potentates, great and small, in southern Germany, as far south as Tuscany and as far west as Belgium—although certain of them were represented by a Diet—owed allegiance to the Emperor. But Napoleon had torn to shreds this loosely-knit Confederation, and Francis had wisely assumed the lesser title of Emperor of Austria.
In the meantime, although Prussia had also been overrun by Napoleon, her great military contribution to his defeat and the backing of the Czar made her a potential rival for the overlordship of the lesser German states and leadership of the Germanic peoples. She claimed not only Saxony but a great part of the Rhineland; and, if given them, would become as powerful as Austria.
Castlereagh was by no means averse to that, for his grand objective was to achieve in Europe a balance of power by which, together with Austria, a strong Prussia would be capable of restraining either Russia or a resurgent France from launching a new war of conquest. By these means he aimed to save Britain from becoming involved in another European conflict.
Talleyrand, too, wished to create a balance of power, and for many years that had been his secret ambition. But the two statesmen differed on the way in which it was to be brought about. Castlereagh knew that, owing to Napoleon’s wholesale slaughter of French manhood, several generations must elapse before France was again strong enough to launch a war of aggression; but Russia could do so at any time, and, military glory now having gone to the ill-balanced Czar’s head, might well do so. His overriding fear was therefore of Russia.
On the other hand Talleyrand, who was far more long-sighted, thought that a triple alliance between a strong Austria, France and Britain could not only keep Russia in check, but also Prussia; and it was Prussia he feared. With extraordinary acumen he visualised a future in which Prussia, given large areas of territory in several parts of Germany, all connected by main roads, and an industry which would make the smaller states largely dependent on her would, sooner or later, dominate and probably absorb them all. That would give her a manpower in Europe equal to Russia’s, but with a higher degree of intelligence and led by such ruthless, determined generals as Blücher. Then the day would come when a huge German army would be launched against her weaker neighbours.
Only the alliance he planned could prevent that, so he intrigued unceasingly to prevent Prussia getting all that she demanded. His skilful efforts were eventually successful to a large degree; and it was due to this that for one hundred years there was no further international conflict in Europe.
Two evenings after Talleyrand’s ball, a concert was given by Freiherr von und zu Stein, another of the great men at the Congress. He had been responsible for many of the liberal measures that, in a few years, had converted Prussia from a backward autocracy into very nearly a democracy; so that even the freed serfs felt they had a stake in their country and later fought with fanatical patriotism to drive out the French. During Prussia’s occupation, his writings had stirred up such furious animosity against the French that Napoleon had forced the weak-willed Frederick William to exile Stein, who had then gone to Russia. The Czar thought very highly of him and made him his principal adviser on foreign affairs. He still held that position, which was why he was in Vienna, and it was said that he had even greater influence with Alexander than had Count Nesselrode.
Roger painted a little when he had the time, although by no means so well as Georgina; but classical music had no appeal for him, so he had gone to the concert solely in the hope of seeing Selma, and his hope was realised. They exchanged covert glances, but sat some distance from each other, while Beethoven, now almost blind, conducted several of his renowned symphonies. It was not until the guests mingled at a buffet supper that Roger succeeded in detaching Selma from a group of her admirers, on the excuse of showing her a famous painting in one of the anterooms. There, in a window embrasure, they held a swift conversation in lowered voices.
‘Have you any ideas?’ she asked.
‘Alas, no,’ he replied ruefully. ‘I’ve racked my brains every moment of the past two days, yet can think of no place where we could be alone together without risking your reputation.’
‘Would you be willing to chance being ordered to leave Vienna, or perhaps even sent to prison?’
Wondering what was coming, he looked at her in surprise, but replied without a moment’s hesitation, ‘Yes. I’d take any risk to hold you in my arms again.’
She smiled. ‘You are very gallant, and very sweet. In fairness I had to ask you, but I would not make the suggestion I am about to, did I believe there was any serious risk of our being, caught. Now listen, for we must not linger here for long.
‘Under another name, the Archduke John owns a small chalet only a few miles away, in the Wienerwald. It is there that we have taken our pleasure. No servants live in the chalet, but a couple occupy a cottage several hundred yards away. Their duties are to clean the chalet daily, light fires there every evening and leave ready an excellent cold supper. They are under orders not to be within sight of the chalet between seven o’clock in the evening and ten o’clock next morning, so they never see either John or any lady he may entertain there, either arrive or leave. Whether he has used the place or not is known to them only by its state when they come to clean it.’
Roger smiled slowly. ‘And your idea is that we should occupy it one evening when the Archduke is known to be fully engaged?’
She nodded. ‘We have met there only once or twice a week, because his position compels him to attend so many functions, and he cannot, like other men, slip away from them unnoticed. He gave me a key to the chalet, so that I could let myself in should I arrive earlier than he does; and I have my own coach, so we could drive there in it.’
‘You count your coachman trustworthy, then?’
‘Yes. I pay him handsomely to keep secret these visits of mine to the chalet.’
‘Marvellous! Oh, marvellous!’ Roger’s eyes were shining. ‘But when, when, can we make this expedition to Paradise? Wait! I have it. On Monday there is a Court ball at the Hofburg. The Archduke will have to remain in attendance on the Emperor until all the principal guests have left. That will provide a perfect opportunity for us.’
‘I, too, had thought of that. I will feign illness and send my excuses. Having made your bow, you could quietly leave at, say, ten o’clock. Go straight to the west door of the Stephen’s Kirke and I will pick you up there. But we must not linger here longer now. You had best take me back to the buffet.’
Over the weekend the hours seemed to drag interminably for Roger. But, at last, the Monday evening came, and everything went according to plan. Selma picked him up outside the Stephen’s Kirke and they drove out to the chalet in the woods.
He found it to be a delightful retreat, and everything had been prepared in accordance with the Archduke’s standing orders. Thick curtains were drawn across the windows, so that no poacher or casual passer-by should glimpse even the candlelight that lit the interior. The walls of the main room were decorated with hunting trophies, on the floor there were bearskin rugs, a tempting supper had been set out on a small, oval table, and beside it stood an ice bucket holding a magnum of champagne. The fire had burned down, but Roger quickly made it up. The bedroom had been designed like a large tent, so that folds of pink silk hid the walls and ceiling. The only furniture in it was a huge bed. The satin sheets were already turned back, and two big mounds in the centre showed the bed-warmers had been put in.
During their drive, the lovers had delighted in a score of kisses and, as soon as Roger had relieved Selma of her wraps, they embraced again. Soon they were laughing gaily together as they fed each other with titbits from the supper table, and shared a big goblet of the sparkling wine. But both were too eager for other pleasures to linger long over the meal.
In the bedroom Roger persuaded Selma to strip for him, so that he could revel in the sight of her long legs, small pouting breasts and blonde cendré hair falling upon her nude shoulders. But she made no secret of it that she was eager to be done with these preliminaries. The moment he had got his clothes off, she flung herself backwards on to the bed and pulled him down on top of her.
For four hours, with only languorous rests in between, they excited each other to new frenzies of passion; then, with great reluctance, dressed so that she might be home by four o’clock in the morning, which was about the time she would otherwise have returned from the ball.
Throughout November the Congress continued its wrangles. Numerous minor problems were settled, but agreement on the major one of Poland’s future was postponed, because the Czar demanded the whole of that country. Austria refused to give up her part of it and Prussia hers, except as the price of receiving the whole of Saxony; and Austria was opposed to that, while the wily Talleyrand continued to put forward one reason after another why Saxony should be preserved as an independent Kingdom.
During these weeks Roger thoroughly enjoyed himself. From a variety of sources he kept himself informed of nearly everything that was going on behind the scenes. As had been foreseen by Castlereagh, he proved a most valuable go-between, enlisting Talleyrand’s support for policies favoured by Britain, and Castlereagh’s for settlements favourable to France. The Czar spoke pleasantly to him on several occasions and, being in the secret of his past close association with Napoleon, listened amiably to what he had to say. Metternich, having been informed that he was in Castlereagh’s confidence, frequently sent for him to learn the British statesman’s views, or to convey his own prior to meetings of the Grand Council.
Meanwhile, he had acquired a lovely, passionate and laughter-loving mistress. Twice a week he and Selma enjoyed hectic sessions at the Archduke’s chalet. For that there was a price to pay as, had she not continued to go there now and again with her Imperial lover, he might have taken another mistress, and they would have had much more difficulty in ascertaining the nights when they were confident he would not go there himself.
As Selma had fallen desperately in love with Roger, she now resented having to give herself to the Archduke also, so Roger had to pretend that he was desperately jealous. But past experience with lovely ladies who had, from time to time, had to oblige their husbands, had taught him that to insist on fidelity was to cut off one’s nose to spite one’s face. Wisely, as far as he could, he put her affair with the Archduke out of his mind and, having developed a genuine depth of feeling for her, quite apart from her physical attraction, revelled in the joys he experienced with her during their secret meetings.
It was on the last day of November that there occurred the contretemps which they had, from the beginning, believed most unlikely to overtake them. Two nights before, the Archduke had told Selma that the following morning affairs connected with his military duties necessitated his setting out for Linz. As the city was the better part of a hundred miles away, it had seemed certain that he would be absent for, at the very least, three days.
On the evening of the 29th, Selma was giving a dinner party, so it had been impossible for her to take advantage of the Archduke’s absence; but on the 30th she and Roger followed the evasive tactics concerning social engagements which they had by then developed to a fine art, and happily drove out together to the chalet. They reached it shortly before eleven o’clock, indulged in mutual caresses for some minutes, then sat down to supper.
Roger had only just begun to shell for Selma some of the delicious écrevisses from the Danube when he heard the front door slam, and footsteps in the little hall.
Dropping the baby lobster, he came swiftly to his feet. At that moment the door of the room was thrown open, and the Archduke, dressed in a plain, civilian suit, strode in. He was followed by a woman, wearing a hood that, in the candlelight, made her features indistinct.
As the Archduke stared angrily at Roger, the woman threw back her hood, and cried with a laugh, ‘ ’Tis clear, John, that you have been properly trompé by this lovely lady. And dam’me if the cuckoo in your nest is no other than my old friend, Lord Kildonan.’
The woman was Georgina.