Dennis Wheatley - Vendetta in Spain

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Vendetta in Spain
Readers of
and other books in which the glamorous Lucretia-Jose appears with the Duke de Richleau may recall that her parentage was surrounded by mystery. Over the years many people have written, asking for an account of the great romance that led to her birth.
The story takes us back to Spain, in 1906, when the Duke had not yet succeeded his father, and was still the Count de Quesnoy. In these days it is not easy for us to realize that, less than fifty years ago, there was hardly a Monarch or President who could leave his bed in the morning with any certainty that he would live through the day. Anarchism permeated every country in Europe. Not a night passed without groups of fanatics meeting in cellars to plan attempts with knives, pistols or bombs against the representatives of law and order; not a month passed without some royalty or high official falling a victim to their plots.
In Spain, an historic bomb outrage that led to scores of innocent people being killed or injured, gave de Quesnoy ample cause to vow vengeance on the assassins. His attempt to penetrate anarchist circles in Barcelona nearly cost him his life. In San Sebastian, Granada and Cadiz he hunted and was hunted by them in a ruthless vendetta. Only after two years did it end in a final desperate gamble with death.
It is against this background of true history, subtle intrigue, sudden violence, terrorism, blackmail and suspense that there develops the bitter-sweet romance between the gallant young de Quesnoy and the beautiful Condesa Gulia, the wife of a friend he loves and honours. Their frustrated passion leads to a denouement that rivals in surprise and breath-taking effect the outcome of his vendetta against the anarchists.

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The great rambling mansion had been built in Catherine H's time and lay deep in the woods some distance from the town. To the north of it there sprawled two acres of stables, glass-houses and farm buildings. He was welcomed by his elderly second cousin, the Countess Olga Plackoff, who had run the house for his father ever since his mother's death twenty years ago; by the silver-haired Abbe Nodier, now in his eighties, who still acted as Chaplain to the household, and by Sergi Mikszath, the Bailiff.

From the Countess Olga and the Abb6 he received a detailed account of his father's death; then Mikszath presented the house servants, grooms, gardeners, huntsmen and farm workers all of whom in turn, in the traditional manner, embraced their new master and kissed him on the left shoulder. Many of them were old friends and they begged him to come and live permanently among them. About that he would make no promise, but he smilingly assured them all that whether he did so or not he would retain them in his service and see to it that they were well treated.

As it was now two months since his father's death the household was no longer in mourning; so arrangements could be started at once for the celebrations customary upon a great noble coming into his inheritance. Invitations were dispatched to all the leading families of the Province for the last week in May and a period of great activity ensued in kitchen, farm, cellars, and in preparing many rooms in the house that had for long not been used.

The celebrations were to last a week, and as many of the guests would come from considerable distances, over fifty had to be accommodated; so poor Countess Olga was soon at her wits' end where to put them. But de Richleau came to her aid by hiring additional furniture and converting some of the larger rooms into dormitories for the younger people.

On the morning of the day that his guests were to arrive the Duke carried out a final inspection and was satisfied that they would lack for nothing. In addition to his big house-party, his tenants, everyone employed on the estate, scores of people from the town and hundreds of peasants from round about would all participate on the first and last days of the festivities; so half a dozen big marquees had been erected in the garden and huge stocks of food, vodka, wine and beer had been accumulated.

During the week it rained on only two days and neither of these were those on which the great gatherings took place. On them there were sports of all kinds, horse, foot and troika races, wrestling matches, and ploughing, tree-felling and drinking contests. There were prizes, too, for the best pies cooked by the women, the best embroidery they could produce, the prettiest dresses and the prettiest girls. At night there were fireworks and illuminations; sheep, oxen, boar and deer were roasted whole over bonfires, and the great crowd of revellers sang, danced and staggered about happily drunk until the grey light of dawn dimmed the illuminations.

In the midweek the house-party went for rides, picnics and boating expeditions on the river, held musical evenings and, according to their age, either played whist and baccarat or danced, acted charades, and played guessing games and hide and seek.

On the 29th of the month the great party ended. De Richleau had had to reply to a score of toasts and drink bumper for bumper with innumerable well-wishers, so it had proved a considerable strain. As it had enabled him to renew many old friendships and make a number of new ones he had enjoyed it, but it was with a sense of relief that he waved away the last of his guests.

Earlier in the month he had gone through his father's papers and dealt with all matters arising from them. He had also made several tours of the estate with his bailiff and issued instructions for such improvements as occurred to him. Now that he was on his own he again rode out every morning to inspect farms and coverts, but he found little fresh to remark upon.

The Countess Olga was a pleasant and sensible woman, but she had never been outside Russia and had been immured at Jvanets for the past twenty years; so her conversation was extremely limited. The Abb6 Nodier, on the other hand, could talk with wisdom and wit on a great variety of subjects; so it was in his small private sitting-room, the walls of which were lined with hundreds of battered old books, that the Duke spent his evenings. The Abbe had been his tutor and, when young, the tutor of his father before him; so he had no secrets from the old man who, although a saint himself, was always tolerant about the human failings of others. But at this season there was neither hunting nor shooting to be had, the little town of Jvanets could offer de Richleau no recreation and his nearest neighbours lived many versts away; so he soon found his life as a country gentleman extremely boring.

He had received a number of invitations from families that had stayed with him for the celebrations, but the only ones that appealed to him were for later in tha year when the shooting started; so he was faced with the problem of how best to fill in the summer months.

He was greatly tempted to return to Vienna; but he had met one starry-eyed little Countess there whom he had found most attractive, and to dally further with her might prove decidedly dangerous. His years in the jungle had not caused him to forget how easily even wary young men could find themselves entangled and be asked their intentions by the fathers of eligible young ladies; and he had no wish to get married again yet. As the London season would be in full swing he thought of visiting England; but it was long time since he had been to a European watering-place and he felt that he would enjoy himself more at a resort where he could swim and be certain of good weather, than at Ascot and in the ballrooms of Mayfair. After considering several, he decided to go down to Yalta in the Crimea.

As usual, having taken a decision, de Richleau acted promptly upon it, and after seven weeks on his estate left it in mid-June. He spent two nights in Odessa to look up old friends and on the 18th of the month arrived in Yalta.

In the same way as the French Riviera owes its delightful climate to the shelter given it by the Alpes Maritimes, so the south-east coast of the Crimea enjoys a similar protection from the Yaila-dagh mountains which run parallel to it some six miles inland, and it has been well-named the Russian Riviera. There is a further similarity between the two in that both present an almost continuous belt of semi-tropical vegetation - palms, mimosa, oleanders, magnolias, camellias, orange, lemon, olive and fig trees - among which rise hundreds of white villas framed in tall cypress trees and with gardens gay with flowers.

This lovely stretch of coast has numerous towns scattered along it and if they are not so large as Nice, Cannes and Monte Carlo, they offer compensation for that in historical interest, as in their vicinity lie many beautiful ruins from the wealthy Greek colony that flourished there before the birth of Christ, Byzantine churches, Venetian fortresses and Turkish mosques.

Winter was the most fashionable time for wealthy Russians to escape from the snows to this sunny pleasure resort, and Yalta was the most fashionable of its towns, because it was there that the Tsar and Grand Dukes had their palaces. But even in the height of summer the promenades were always crowded with holiday-makers, and after the climate in Central America de Richleau found it only pleasantly warm.

At this season most of the big villas were shut, but the Duke knew a few families who had brought their children down for a summer holiday at the seaside; so he was made a member of the Nobles' Club and soon acquired a circle of pleasant acquaintances. Among them was a Baron Bezobrazov who owned a charming villa on the slope a mile or so behind the town, and on several occasions de Richleau went out there to lunch or dine.

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