Signpost To Love

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  In I870 two years after the time of this novel, the Duc de Gramont began to assume an aggressive attitude towards Germany. He called the French Ambassador in Berlin to precipitate a crisis. William I of Prussia, who was taking the waters at Ems received him with great courtesy. But the King was being pushed by Bismarck as the Emperor Louis Napoleon was being pushed by the Duc and the Empress.

  The French press began to stir up warlike feeling. On 28th of July the Emperor joined the Rhine Army headquarters at Metz. He was in such pain from the stone in his bladder that it was agony to sit on his horse.

  On September 2nd, debilitated by the stone and by prostate trouble, he surrendered with his army at Sedan. Two days later the mob surged into the Tuilleries Palace and the Prussians were marching on Paris.

  Someone scribbled ‘rooms to Let’ on the Palace walls, the Crown Jewels were hidden in a naval arsenal at Brest and in I887 they were auctioned, but the Monarchy was finished.

  Chapter One I868.

  The Earl of Hawkshead was in a bad temper.

  He lay back in his travelling carriage, which had just crossed the Channel with him on his yacht, and there was a frown between his grey eyes.

  He had, in fact, been extremely annoyed when the Prime Minister, the Right Honourable Benjamin Disraeli, had sent for him.

  Usually the two men, so opposite in every possible way, got on well together and the contrast between them was very obvious as they faced each other in the Prime Minister’s room in the House of Commons.

  Benjamin Disraeli, flamboyant, almost Oriental, with his jet-black hair, his large nose and his fondness for glittering rings, looked up at the Earl towering above him with a smile on his thin lips.

  The Earl, over six foot two inches tall with broad shoulders tapering down to narrow hips, was the acme of fashion and yet there was something very masculine about him and also an aura of power that the Prime Minister appreciated.

  He had a respect for dominating men just as he liked women who were soft, feminine and clinging.

  “I sent for you, my Lord,” he said to the Earl, “as I wish you to do me a favour.”

  “I should be glad, Prime Minister, to do anything within my power,” the Earl replied.

  “Then I hope you will find it not too arduous a task,” the Prime Minister said, “to leave for Paris immediately.”

  “For Paris?”

  There was no doubt that the Earl was surprised.

  “Suppose you sit down and let me tell you about it,” the Prime Minister proposed.

  The Earl obeyed him, but the expression in his eyes as he watched the man opposite, was not one of pleasure.

  He did not wish to leave London at the moment, not when he had several excellent horses he was planning to race and a very attractive woman engaging his attention.

  “I have been hearing,” the Prime Minister said, “extremely disturbing reports concerning the French attitude towards the German escalation of their Armed Forces.”

  The Earl looked surprised.

  “Surely you are not suggesting,” he said after a moment, “that the French are thinking of going to war? I thought that they learned their lesson last time.”

  “That was what I hoped,” Mr. Disraeli replied, “at the same time I can speak frankly and say that you and I both know that the Emperor is an unstable character and given to impulsive actions without counting the costs.”

  The Earl nodded his head.

  Enough had been seen of the Emperor Louis Napoleon when he was in exile in England to make it clear that he was a strange man who was not really the right type of character to lead the French.

  “The Empress, as is well known,” the Prime Minister went on, “is vain, frivolous and insatiably ambitious – a dangerous combination!”

  “Dangerous indeed!” the Earl agreed. “But I cannot believe that any Frenchman would be stupid enough not to realise that Germany is and always will prove to be a tough and almost invincible enemy.”

  “That is exactly what I want to investigate,” the Prime Minister said, “and because I think the Emperor always looked on your father as a friend and because you know a great number of the men now in the seats of power in Paris, I want you to discover, if you can, what is their general attitude towards Germany and if France might indeed intend provocation and declare war.”

  “I cannot believe there is the slightest chance of that!” the Earl exclaimed. “Moreover, if it is a question of war, it is Germany who will make the first move.”

  “I am not certain,” the Prime Minister said reflectively, “and I am disclosing State secrets, my Lord, when I tell you that I have learned confidentially that the Duc de Gramont, who loathes the Germans, is doing everything he can to push the Emperor into an indiscretion that might even destroy the French nation as we know it.”

  “He cannot be such a fool!” the Earl ejaculated.

  “The Duc is very friendly and intimate with the Empress.”

  The Earl understood only too well what the Prime Minister insinuated.

  The Empress Eugenie wanted victories and she saw herself, as she always had, at the head of a great Dynasty, admired and acclaimed by all the crowned heads of Europe, who she always thought treated her patronisingly and looked down on her because she had not been born Royal.

  The Earl gave a somewhat exasperated sigh.

  “I understand what you want me to do, Prime Minister,” he said, “and I will, as you ask, leave for Paris as soon as possible.”

  “Thank you, my Lord,” Mr. Disraeli replied. “I am extremely grateful. I am not flattering you when I say that there is no one to whom I could entrust such a delicate mission with such confidence and the knowledge that you, as no one else could, will bring me back the truth.”

  The Earl was aware that the Prime Minister was always very flattering when he had something to gain by using the honeyed words that came so easily to his tongue.

  At the same time, because he knew that in this case Mr. Disraeli spoke in all sincerity, he was gratified.

  Equally he thought it would be extremely inconvenient to tear himself away from London.

  As it was the beginning of May, the Season was in full swing, there were balls and parties every night given by his friends, who would be dismayed at the thought that he could not be present.

  The Earl had also only just begun an extremely passionate liaison with Lady Marlene Stanleigh. She was the wife of a committed and ambitious politician who found his Constituency and the sound of his own voice in the House of Commons much more alluring than his wife.

  Lady Marlene was acclaimed not only as the greatest beauty in the Social world but also as the gayest and most amusing.

  She was witty and sophisticated and made any man she bestowed her favours on feel that he was more than fortunate at being allowed to possess her.

  She had for some months been acutely aware that the Earl was to all intents and purposes avoiding her and she had been determined to capture him.

  She was, however, far too clever to show him or anyone else her intentions and, although they met surprisingly frequently – the Earl found himself continually sitting next to her at dinner or supper – he was not quite certain whether it was intentional or just by chance.

  He found her amusing, he liked the way she said daring, sometimes outrageous things with a double entendre that made him wonder if they were meant or whether she was just naïve.

  It was only when finally she surrendered herself, or it was he, without being fully aware of it who did the surrendering, that he found that she was without exception the most ardently passionate woman he had ever known.

  She was clever enough not to bore him by being over-effusive, so she still manage
d to be elusive when he least expected it and, although the chase was over, he found himself still pursuing her.

  She intrigued him and that for the Earl was something that had been far too often missing in his many love affairs.

  “I shall miss you madly, my handsome Irvin,” she cooed the night before he left for Paris.

  They had enjoyed a tête-à-tête dinner by candlelight in her heavily scented boudoir and then moved into her bedroom to lie together in the canopied bed with its silk sheets and lace-edged pillows.

  “I shall miss you too, Marlene,” the Earl replied, “and I promise you that I will not be away any longer than I can help.”

  “That is what I want you to say,” Lady Marlene answered, “and, darling when you return we must talk about our future together.”

  The words were spoken very quietly, but the Earl heard them and, although she was very soft and compliant in his arms, somewhere in his mind a little red flag of danger began to flutter.

  He kissed her forehead and then rose from the bed.

  “No. No,” she protested. “You cannot leave me so soon!”

  “I have quite a number of things to do before the morning,” the Earl answered, “and I would also like a few hours’ sleep.”

  “I want you – close to me.”

  “You must wait until I return.”

  The Earl began to dress himself quickly and expertly.

  It always infuriated his valet that he was capable of looking after himself if it was necessary and even the intricacies of his evening clothes presented no particular difficulty.

  “Where will you be staying in Paris?” Lady Marlene asked petulantly.

  “With the Vicomte de Dijon. He is an old friend and I am always welcome in his house in the Champs Élysées.”

  “I will write to you there,” Lady Marlene said, “and, dearest, wonderful Irvin, if I don’t hear from you, I swear I shall be distraught.”

  She paused and then added,

  “It will be quite safe if you send your letter in an envelope addressed to my lady’s maid as you have done before.”

  Again the red flag was waving in the Earl’s mind.

  Letters were always dangerous and the short notes he had sent her addressed in a surreptitious manner to her maid in the past had contained nothing more incriminating than the time of a rendezvous or an invitation to dinner.

  He walked to the bedside to look down at Marlene.

  With her long hair tumbling over her shoulders and her skin translucent like a pearl against the silk sheets, she was very alluring and very provocative as she held out her arms to him.

  “I will dream of you until you return,” she sighed.

  The Earl took her hands and kissed them one after the other and her fingers tightened on his.

  “Somehow, someway, we must be together for – eternity!” she whispered.

  “Goodbye, Marlene.”

  He walked across the room to the door. Then, when he would have turned the key and opened it, he heard a faint sound outside.

  Had he not been standing at the door it would have escaped his notice, but as he listened he knew that somebody was coming slowly and quietly up the stairs.

  There was the creak as if from a loose floorboard and then an unmistakable footfall.

  With the swiftness of a man used to danger, the Earl moved to the window.

  “What is it? What is the matter?” Lady Marlene asked.

  The Earl did not reply, he merely pulled aside the curtains and stepped out of the window onto the small wrought iron balcony.

  All the houses in the street had them and he was aware that the wall of Lady Marlene’s room adjoined the house next door.

  There was an almost identical balcony about four feet away and the Earl regarded it contemplatively.

  Then he was aware, although he had closed the curtains behind him, that Lady Marlene had risen from the bed where he had left her lying naked and was moving across the room to the door.

  He heard the key turn in the lock and without hesitating any longer, he climbed swiftly onto the side of the balcony and jumped.

  He landed neatly in the very centre of the balcony next door and saw that there was a window open wide enough for him to squeeze through.

  He found himself in a bedroom identical in size to Lady Marlene’s and he was aware that there was somebody in the bed.

  As he parted the curtains to enter the room, he must have been silhouetted against the starlit sky outside, for there was a little scream and then a woman’s voice asked nervously,

  “Who – are you? What do you – want?”

  The voice was not that of someone very young, but perhaps middle-aged or older.

  “I beg your pardon, sir,” the Earl replied, “I am afraid, I have come to the wrong room!”

  He walked towards the door as he spoke, opened it and proceeded without hurry down the stairs.

  It took him only a few seconds to unbolt the front door and let himself out into the street.

  Then he walked away in the direction of Berkeley Square and his own house.

  *

  Now driving towards Paris he was aware that he had escaped by sheer luck from being involved in a situation that might have had disastrous consequences.

  It had never struck him for one moment that Lady Marlene wanted more from him than a short and passionate liaison in which they both accepted the rules of the game and would, when the fires of desire died down, part without any animosity on either side.

  He remembered now vaguely hearing that Stanleigh was not only indifferent to his wife but bored with her succession of lovers.

  He had not listened when this was what he had been told for the simple reason that he did not believe it.

  He was well aware that a beautiful wife, whose father was the distinguished Duke of Dorset, was a distinct acquisition when it came to rising in the political field.

  What was more, although they were continually hard up, it was Lady Marlene who provided what money they had to live on and in such circumstances there was no chance that Stanleigh would cease to be a complaisant husband.

  Now he remembered how, on two occasions last month, he had seen Leonard Stanleigh in the House of Commons with Miss Sarah Vanderhof.

  On the last occasion they had been sitting on the terrace talking so earnestly to each other that he had passed them without their even noticing him.

  Sarah Vanderhof was an American heiress who had been much acclaimed in the newspapers because of her father’s enormous donations to charities.

  Pretty and glittering with a wealth of jewels that would not have been considered good taste on an English girl, Miss Vanderhof already occupied a unique position in the Social world.

  Now the Earl began to understand what he had been extremely obtuse in not realising before.

  Leonard Stanleigh wanted money and, if he married a great heiress like Sarah Vanderhof, he could do all the things that were out of reach of his pocket now.

  The only stumbling block was that he was already married and divorce, which had to go through Parliament, would mean unpleasant publicity and also be extremely expensive.

  Everything would be far easier if his present wife Lady Marlene agreed to co-operate.

  As the plot unveiled itself before the Earl’s eyes, he felt like a man who had escaped destruction by a hair’s breadth and had been rescued when he was on the very point of drowning.

  ‘How could I have known – how could I have guessed for one moment that Marlene wanted marriage?’ he asked himself.

  As he looked back, he thought that there were in fact many pointers that might have warned him that she would find marriage with him desirable.

  She had asked him to show her the unique collection of jewels that were worn by every Countess of Hawkshead.

  At the time he had been amused that the huge tiaras of diamonds, sapphires and rubies so obviously delighted her. Now he knew that the expression in her eyes had not only been one of a
dmiration but greed and desire.

  It had not been surprising that she found his houses and his vast estates the sort of background she needed for her own beauty.

  Hawk in Sussex was one of the most magnificent early Georgian buildings in the whole country. Hawkshead House in Berkeley Square had been in the family since it had been built one hundred and thirty years ago and his pictures and treasures were unrivalled in any London house of the same size.

  ‘How could I even begin to guess that she intended to be my wife?’ the Earl asked himself.

  He had, in fact, been quite shaken at having such a narrow escape, knowing that however desirable he found her, Lady Marlene was the last sort of woman he wanted as a wife and the mother of his children.

  He was not quite certain what he did desire in that capacity, but Heaven knows his relatives had talked about it often enough and beseeched him almost on their knees to marry and by having a son ensure the continuity of the family.

  He found himself thinking of his grandmother, who was the last person who had talked to him on the subject and had made a great deal of sense, although he had not thought so at the time.

  “You are getting on in age, Irvin,” she had said sharply, in a clear voice that sounded younger than her years.

  “I am aware of that, Grandmama,” the Earl had replied with a smile, “but I daresay I shall last a few years more.”

  “It is time you were married, and you know it,” the Dowager said. “You cannot go on playing about with doxies until you are on two sticks and I want to see your son before I die.”

  “That gives me another twenty years.”

  “You know perfectly well that is most improbable,” his grandmother had replied, “and you will be thirty-four next birthday. Your father married when he was ten years younger than you are now.”

  “So you have so often told me,” the Earl said. “Grandpapa, if I remember right, was nearer my age.”

  “He was thirty-two,” the Dowager answered, “and he told me he had been looking for me all his life.”

  “There you are!” the Earl exclaimed. “I am following in Grandpapa’s footsteps and waiting for someone as lovely and intelligent as you were at eighteen. But they are not to be found these days.”