C. Harris - What Darkness Brings

“Sounds like Daniel Eisler would have loved it,” said Sebastian.

“Napoleon certainly did.”

“He ransacked it?”

“I think ‘stripped it’ would be a more accurate term.” She perched on the edge of the bench while he poured warm water in the basin. “Napoleon had something of a grudge against the Duke. You see, in addition to being the brother-in-law of the King of England, father-in-law to the Prince of Wales, and a patron of artists and scholars, he was also considered one of Europe’s best generals. When the American colonists revolted against us, good ole King George actually asked Brunswick to lead Britain’s forces. He refused.”

Sebastian looked over at her. “Any particular reason?”

“Some say it was because he wanted King George to fail-that he was sympathetic to the Americans’ cause.”

“Was he?”

“I suspect he was. In 1792, the French revolutionary government in their turn approached Brunswick and asked him to take command of their army. He refused them as well, but not without expressing his support for the reforms they were enacting.”

Sebastian scrubbed at his face and hair, rinsing away the ashes and grease. “So why did he agree to take command of the combined armies of Austria and Prussia instead?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps they gave him no real choice. But his distrust of the Austrians was well-known, as was his belief that the Prussian King-also his cousin, by the way-was a fool.”

Sebastian reached for a towel. “According to Collot, Brunswick’s army was within a hundred miles of Paris at the time of the theft of the French Crown Jewels.”

She nodded. “That’s right, at Valmy. It’s well-known that the revolutionary government tried to negotiate with Brunswick-to persuade him to withdraw. A meeting was actually held.”

“And?”

“Supposedly, the negotiations failed.”

Sebastian frowned. “But Brunswick still didn’t attack Paris.”

“No, he didn’t. And every day he held off was one more day the French were able to use to build up their own forces. Did you know that Johann Wolfgang von Goethe was with the Prussian Army at Valmy?”

“I did not.”

“His account of those days makes interesting reading. He was convinced some sort of treachery was afoot. He says there was no conceivable reason why an attack on Paris wasn’t launched immediately.”

“But there was eventually a battle.”

“Eventually. Although it was more in the nature of a small skirmish. And after that, Brunswick simply. . withdrew. The next day, the National Convention abolished the monarchy and declared France a republic. And barely four months after that, Louis XVI was beheaded.”

“You’re saying Collot was right-that Brunswick was bribed?”

“According to the rumors, his price was five million livres.”

“With part of the payment being delivered in the form of the French Blue?”

“That’s the rumor.”

He looked over at her. “And is the rumor true?”

“I’ve never been told.”

Which did not, he realized, exactly answer his question.

Their gazes met. And he knew it again, that awareness that no matter how close they might become, Jarvis’s shadow-and Hero’s loyalty to her father-would always be between them.

She said, “After everything you’ve learned about Eisler-the blackmail, the financial exploitation, the sexual debauchery-you still think the mystery surrounding this blue diamond is somehow involved in his death?”

“Somehow, yes.”

She nodded as if coming to a decision and rose to her feet. “Then you might find it useful to speak to a certain colonel in the Black Brunswickers named Otto von Riedesel. He was in Spain with Wellington up until a few months ago, when he was wounded. But before that he served the old Duke of Brunswick.”

Sebastian swiped the towel at a drop of water running down his cheek, then tossed it aside. A corps of volunteers raised by the current Duke of Brunswick to fight against Napoleon, the Black Brunswickers were known for their brutality.

And for their fierce desire for revenge.

Wednesday, 23 September

At dawn the next morning, Colonel Otto von Riedesel was exercising a magnificent black Hanoverian on the Row in Hyde Park when Sebastian brought his own Arab mare in beside him.

The colonel glanced over at Sebastian, then looked away, his jaw set hard. A big man with a full ruddy face, small brown eyes, and a swooping mustache, he wore the uniform of the Black Brunswickers-or the Black Horde, as they were sometimes called. As a symbol of their state of mourning for the occupied Duchy of Brunswick-now under the control of Napoleon-the corps’ entire uniform was black: black boots, black trousers, black dolman, black shako. The only touches of color came from the blue of his dolman’s collar and the Brunswicker silver death’s-head on his black shako.

The two men trotted along in a strained silence filled with the creak of saddle leather, the pounding of their horses’ hooves on the wet earth, the chorus of birdsong rising from the sparrows waking in the misty elms lining the path. At last, as if goaded beyond endurance, the Brunswicker exclaimed, “Vhat the hell do you vant from me?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

Von Riedesel gave a loud snort.

Sebastian said, “When Daniel Eisler was murdered, he had in his possession a large blue diamond. I’m told that diamond was previously held by the late Duke Carl Wilhelm of Brunswick.”

“I am a simple soldier. Vhat makes you think I know of such things?”

“The diamond in question is in all probability a recut version of a stone that once formed part of the French Crown Jewels.”

The colonel reined in hard, the red of his cheeks darkening to an angry hue, his horse chafing at the bit. “If you mean to suggest that the present Duke’s father allowed himself to be bribed into-”

“I’m not suggesting anything,” said Sebastian calmly. “I frankly couldn’t care less how the Duke came into possession of the French Blue. I want to know what happened to the gem between the time it was acquired by Carl Wilhelm and when it showed up in the possession of Daniel Eisler.”

“I told you; I know nothing of this.” Von Riedesel set his spurs to his horse’s sides, and the black Hanoverian leapt forward.

Sebastian kept pace with him. “You’re quite certain of that, are you?”

“Yes!”

“I suppose you’re right; I should have directed my questions to the Prince Regent. As the Duke’s son-in-law and executor of his will, Prinny would surely know what happened to the diamond after the Duke’s death.” Sebastian showed his teeth in a smile. “Sorry to have troubled you, Colonel. Good day.”

He was turning his horse’s head toward the gate when von Riedesel stopped him. “Wait!”

Sebastian paused, one eyebrow raised in inquiry.

“Ride on vith me a moment,” snapped the Brunswicker.

Sebastian fell in beside him again.

Von Riedesel said, “Vhat I have to tell you is in the strictest confidence.”

“Of course.”

The Brunswicker set his jaw. “Six years ago, vhen it became obvious that Napoleon was liable to overrun Brunswick, Duke Carl Wilhelm decided to send his jewel collection to his daughter for safekeeping.”

“You mean to Princess Caroline.”

“Yes.”

Sebastian studied the Colonel’s tight red face. “He entrusted you to bring it here, did he?”

Von Riedesel nodded. “I carried it in my personal luggage. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long after I arrived in London that word reached us of the Duke’s death in battle. His vidowed Duchess-your own English Princess Augusta-fled to London and sought refuge with her daughter.” He hesitated, then said, “This was in 1806. You know of the shameful straits under which the Prince forced his wife to live?”