The Blue Diamond (3 page)

“Did he indeed? His lady must be favoring blue this year. It is only natural she should want the most expensive jewel in the country to match her ensembles, but I would not disturb myself unduly about so unlikely an occurrence, milord.”

“I don’t care if he buys her her own diamond mine. What concerns me is that already people are talking about it. It is French property—belongs in fact to the King of France. If Palgrave buys it, he buys stolen French property. Already this A.M. Talleyrand has had that demmed Chabon knocking at my door, asking what we know about the property belonging to the Bourbons. They think it is some English trick—that we got hold of the whole collection I suppose is what he meant, and plan to do God knows what with it. I don’t much care what Talleyrand thinks, to tell the truth. He needs me—us—England. Still, he could stir up a deal of mischief if this story gets afoot. Tsar Alexander will be sure Louis has bribed us with the gift of the collection to put him back on the throne. The Tsar really favors Bonaparte—always has.”

“Louis did not have the crown jewels to bribe you or anyone else,” Moncrief pointed out.

“No one knows who has them. You said as much yourself.”

“We know Louis does not have them.
He
would have no reason to hide it if he had. They belong to him. More likely it was Bonaparte who got hold of them,
he
was the gent in power during most of those intervening years.”

“Yes, well I trust you see, Moncrief, that does not decrease the likelihood of mischief. If Bonaparte has an agent peddling those gems, and an Englishman buys them—finances Napoleon’s return in effect . . ."

“Yes—I see the problem. But surely it is all a rumor. You exaggerate the danger.” Then he fell silent and began to consider the affair in more depth.

“Of course the jewels must be somewhere,” he went on. “Somebody has them. What better time and place to dispose of them than here, and now. Virtually every person of wealth and influence in the western world is collected here in this one city. It is like a giant international public auction—the biggest auction ever assembled. Yes, the price will never be likely to go so high again, and as well, the seller would have a good chance of covering his traces. The collection might have been brought here from any country. The transaction could be made quietly and privately, and the seller nip back to wherever he came from, a million or so pounds the richer. An intriguing idea. But still,” he said, shaking himself to attention, “it is no more than an idea. That Palgrave happens to want a blue diamond for his lady is not to say the Blue Tavernier will materialize.”

“Chabon thinks it will. He spoke of some ruby—a star ruby he said, that was apparently associated with the blue diamond. Part of the same stolen collection I daresay. I did not like to tell him I didn’t know what the deuce he was talking about, but certainly that must be it. He said Palgrave had given his wife a star ruby that was associated with the Tavernier, and he meant to buy her the blue diamond as well.”

“The Star of Burma,” Moncrief said, nodding his head. “Yes, there was a star ruby in that collection—a favorite of Marie Antoinette’s, according to court gossip of the day. And Palgrave had this stone, you say?”

“Lady Palgrave was wearing a ruby as big as a cherry last night, and boasting she would soon have a blue diamond to go with it. See that she does not,” Castlereagh said.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Moncrief said, arising.

“Oh, and my wife said to give the Palgraves these invitations to her soiree. You might drop Lady Palgrave the hint the Metternichs entertain on Monday nights, my wife on Tuesdays, and the Zichys on Saturday. It would be better if the Palgraves plan their parties for other evenings. I know they will be active socially. I assume at least that is their purpose in being here.”

“I wouldn’t worry my head they have turned diplomats. I daresay the only thing they have learned is when the parties are held. And of course where to buy rubies and blue diamonds at an exorbitant price. Did you happen to hear what he paid for the Star of Burma?”

“They got it at a bargain. That is all they said.”

“If Harvey struck a good bargain, I daresay he didn’t pay more than twice what it is worth. I wonder if it is actually a ruby at all, or only a garnet with the back scooped out to give it a luster, like the ring he bought his little woman a few months ago when she became
enceinte
. Dear me, he will have to commandeer an Indiaman from the EIC and bring back the hold full of diamonds from India when she is finally delivered of the child.”

“My wife says she lost the baby. Sorry to hear it if it is true.”

“Pity. But then, one wonders at times whether
everyone
ought to be allowed to breed. Googie did say, when she discovered the state she was in, that she would have Harvey spayed if the pledge of her love turned out to be a male, and her duty in providing an heir achieved. She meant castrated, I expect. In my opinion it would do him a world of good. Is there anything else, or shall I go to visit the Star of Burma now?”

“You can go. You might just drop around at Talleyrand’s place and say hello to Dorothée. He often uses his niece as a mouthpiece for his ideas. If reaction is unfavorable, it remains her idea, and if it is good, he is soon spouting the same thing himself. See what she has to say about this blue diamond business.”

“I wonder where he learned such a devious stunt. Oh—before I leave. I hinted to the Grand Duchess yesterday that England would be ready even to go to war if the Tsar insists on annexing Poland. She says her brother would welcome it. Better pull in your horns, milord. Liverpool would have you drawn and quartered if you get us into battle again.”

He left, with a sardonic smile playing about his lips, while Castlereagh tore open his correspondence, to read firm injunctions from the Prime Minister of England, that nothing was to be allowed to draw England into any further wars. America was already depleting the treasury, what remained in it after fighting Napoleon for more than a decade.

Chapter Four

The mansion hired by Palgrave was well known to Moncrief, situated as it was at the very heart of the doings of the Congress on Schenkenstrasse. It was an overly ornate rococo building, very close to the Austrian Chancellery, and across the road from the Palais Palm. This last edifice was as important socially as the Hofburg, housing as it did the rival Austrian hostesses, the Princess Bagration in the left wing, the Duchesse de Sagan in the right. The two halves of the palais were unofficially known as Russian Headquarters, due to Bagration’s being a favored flirt of Tsar Alexander, and Austrian Headquarters. The Duchesse had captured the heart of Prince Metternich, the Austrian plenipotentiary to the Congress.

Moncrief amused himself as he went along by wondering which of the hostesses would win the Palgraves. He was himself committed to Bagration’s camp. It would be useful to have another pair of ears in the opposite side. Of course there was much sharing of friends between the two groups, but for more intimate do’s, where secrets were more apt to be discussed, the English would welcome any colleagues, and whichever group they chose, the Palgraves were bound to be soon on an intimate basis. Their wealth, their social cachet, would certainly give them a choice in the matter.

Strange, he thought, how eager folks were to make the silly pair welcome everywhere, on the basis only of their wealth, for while Googie was pretty, neither she nor Harvey was what one would call a wit, nor served any but an ornamental function at a party.

He knocked at the door, to be admitted into an entrance hall where the lavish hand of Googie was already obvious. Rafts of freshly cut flowers, secured no doubt at an extravagant cost in December, littered the area. Roses perfumed the air, and to provide the occasional oasis of green, potted palms swayed beneath wedding cake ceilings.

A sable cape was thrown carelessly on a gilt chair, with a feathered concoction tossed on top of it. It was a rather prominent feature of the Palgrave household that though they hired an exorbitant number of servants, and nagged at them endlessly, things somehow never got done as they did in a better-run establishment. Animals of all sorts—cats, dogs, monkeys—ran tame through their various homes. The married couple themselves behaved like children, tossing their belongings about, leaving cups of cocoa or glasses of wine behind them on tables to be spilled, kicking off their shoes in the middle of a room, littering invitations and letters in a trail behind them, and sending any servant who came to tidy up off on some other errand.

From beyond an archway, the unmistakable sounds of domestic squabbling were overheard. Not about money—never about money in this lavish household—but the equally important matter of partying. ". . .  may see these dull Englishmen any time, while a Russian tsar . . ." Harvey’s strident little voice was pointing out. Excellent! They were at it over the subject of which camp to throw themselves into.

“Lord Moncrief,” the butler announced, and the argument came to an abrupt halt.

“Tatt will know,” Lady Palgrave said. “He has been here forever. Darling Tatton, what a pleasure to see you again!” she said, gliding forward with her arms extended to embrace her ex-suitor on the cheek, while a cloud, invisible but highly apparent to the nose, washed along with her. Vaguely musklike, a heavy perfume. Some shimmery, diaphanous billows of a blue-gray gauze swathed her body and blew behind her, as though Botticelli had designed her an outfit to pose for one of his graces.

Moncrief blinked twice at her cropped halo, but accepted the peck on the cheek, and returned it. “Lady Palgrave, Harvey,” he said, with a nod to his cousin, then he glanced around the spacious chamber enviously. “Nice place. You were extremely fortunate to have found it, so late in the season."

“Beastly little hole really, but then people are putting up in cupboards and attics, and it is the best we could do at short notice,” Harvey replied. “The location is good. Well, Tatt, you must tell us what we have been missing, stuck off in England all these months.”

“You heard the news?” Googie asked him, with her lids drooping in a way to indicate either lust or grief. With her spouse so close at hand, Moncrief concluded she referred to her miscarriage.

“I did, and was extremely sorry to hear it,” he replied.

“When did you hear? Before we got here?” she asked eagerly, rallied to discover that though absent, she had been remembered, and spoken of.

“Rumors before that time, confirmed last night at the Hofburg,” he lied amiably.

“Everyone was so sweet about it,” Googie told him, swaying to a sofa to languish against a bank of velvet cushions. “Gentz—the Secretary to the Congress you must know—consoled with me for full ten minutes, and Prince Metternich recommended his own family physician to tend me while I am here. In case of a recurrence, you know,” she added, as she was not completely happy to have ceased being an invalid so early.

“I trust there will be no recurrence of the malady till you find yourself
enceinte
again,” Moncrief replied, taking up a chair between the two.

“Ah, how little you men know about the travails of childbearing,” she accused sadly.

“She’s got us there, Tatt,” her husband pointed out.

“Indisputably.”

“I shall just take it easy and recuperate,” she assured them. “One can relax as well in Vienna as at home in England. Lud, there is nothing going on there at this time. Tell me, Tatt, Harvey and I were just discussing it, and would like your opinion. Which hostess is held in higher repute, the Princess Bagration, or the Duchesse de Sagan? We met Wilhelmine last night at the Hofburg, but it seems to me everyone there spoke of Bagration, and certainly she has attached the Tsar.”

“Well, the Tsar spreads himself very thin,” Moncrief told her. “Anyone may have him, but on the other hand, Sagan has got Metternich eating out of her hand, and is also on terms with the Tsar.”

"That was not my impression!”

“Oh yes, he shares his time between them. One is more likely to encounter Prince Talleyrand and the Prince de Ligne
chez
Sagan, for Sagan’s sister Dorothée is niece to the French prince, and stays with him at this time, to act his hostess. But the Duchesse’s parties are very
recherché
—you will not easily gain the entrée there.”

The married couple exchanged a speaking glance. That easily Moncrief had attained his goal.

“Very likely,” Lady Palgrave said, in a voice of heavy irony. “Tell me, what are all the
on dits
here? You will have to fill us in. We are completely out if it.”

“When you honor us with your presence, Ma’am, there is only
un dit
, if I may encumber you with a very poor pun. All the world and his dog speaks of some bauble your husband bought you. A red diamond, or a ruby was it?”

“The Star of Burma!” she answered, waving her hands in glee. “Harvey, love, get it to show Tatt. It is on my dresser—or perhaps Abrams has put it away. Abrams will know where it is.”

Moncrief stared, to hear this legendary gem was so carelessly lying about the house. “You should take better care of it than that!”

“Locked in the vault,” Harvey told him. “Put it in last night myself after we—that is, after Goog fell asleep.”

“Oh, that is why you were gone this morning! I wondered where you were,” his wife said, with a lascivious smile.

“Could have come to my room, you know,” was his answer. Moncrief cleared his throat rather loudly, and looked to the window, where a monkey was swinging from the drapery. “Don’t see why I’m always the one has to go to you. You used to . . ."

“About that vault, Harvey,” Moncrief interrupted impatiently, “I would bear in mind the vault in this house is as well known as a public monument. This was Würtemberg's headquarters a few weeks ago. That tin can behind the painting of Schonbrunn Palace in the study could be opened with a screwdriver. You would do better to keep it at the bank.”

“In my own vault. Brought it with me,” Palgrave said. “Weighs six hundred pounds. Takes three stout men to carry it. I’ll fetch it. The ruby I mean. Anxious to hear what you think of it, Tatt.”