Dennis Wheatley - The Sultan's Daughter

'Mr. Brook, you forget yourself. . .

'1 forget nothing,' stormed Roger, getting to his feet. 'As a free Englishman, I'll say my mind to you. Charles Emmanuel still has his island of Sardinia. Let him be content with that rather than that another ocean of British blood should flow to get him back his city of Turin. In your blindness to all that really matters you are rejecting an honest offer. Whatever Bonaparte's past misdeeds, by his sincerity in this he puts you to shame.'

The two statesmen stared at him in awed silence for a moment, then the Prime Minister said, 'Mr. Brook, you look far from well and I judge you to be overwrought. The decision of His Majesty's Government is unalterable and, when you have had a few days in which to recover, in duty bound, as Envoye Extraordinaire of the First Consul, you must carry our answer back to him. In the meantime, we are not unappre-ciative of the great services you rendered Admiral Nelson, so my Lord Grenville will send to your bank an order for three thousand pounds on the secret funds.'

'1 thank you, sir,' retorted Roger sharply, 'but I am not in need of money. Let His Lordship send that sum to Greenwich that it may be used for the relief of our seamen wounded in this war which you have decreed must continue.' Then, white-faced and shaking, he strode from the room.

Outside it had commenced to snow. From the Bait and Livery Stable, where he had left Colonel Thursby's coach, Roger picked it up and set out on the drive back to Stillwaters. It was bitterly cold, pitch dark and the horses had already done twenty-five miles; so the pace was slow. He did not arrive until a little before ten o'clock, but when he hurried in good news awaited him.

After her sleep that morning, Georgina had shown a marked improvement. She had become fully conscious and had talked with her father that afternoon, although in the evening she had become fretful and every few moments asked for Roger.

Still shivering, he changed out of his clothes then drank a hot posset that was brought to him. When he went into Georgina he saw that her eyes were open and she smiled at him. Taking her hand he sat down beside her, rejoicing at the much stronger colour now in her cheeks, but he would not let her talk.

After they had sat like that for a long while, he said, 'You must have your mulled wine now. It is already past the time when you should have gone to sleep.'

'My wine,' she whispered. 'Yes. . . . But don't leave me, Roger. Don't leave me. I'd not be alive were it not for you. Lie down here beside me.'

'Oh, my beloved beyond all beloveds,' he whispered back and kissed her gently on the brow.

The old century was ending. From the nearby village the church bells, ushering in the year 1800, came clearly on the winter air. Through the bitter prejudice of British statesmen the terrible war, bringing death and misery to every part of Europe, was destined to continue for another fifteen years. But the French Revolution had ended, so better things might be hoped for France and, perhaps, in time, for Britain too. As the New Year came in, Georgina slept peacefully with her head on Roger's shoulder.

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