On September 23rd he caught the night coach to Exeter and two evenings later was in Sidmouth, tactfully sounding the landlord of the local inn about the prospects of getting a passage to France. He had to kick his heels there for six days, then the French smuggler who had put him over came in with another cargo and on October 1st landed him back at Bordeaux.
From there, by diligence, he followed the same route as he had on his stolen honeymoon with the gay and wanton Pauline, and passing again through the towns on that route he was frequently reminded of that happy journey. On reaching Aix-en-Provence it chanced that he got news of her as a result of reading a copy of Le Moniteur. It was reported that she had recently lost her son Dermid. Continued poor health had caused her to move from spa to spa in the hope of a cure, and she had been at Bagni di Lucca, when she learned that the frail little boy had been carried off by a sudden fever.
Roger felt deep sympathy for her; but she now meant no more to him than any of the other lovely women he had enjoyed for a brief season, and he thought of her only as an old friend. Georgina had been the only abiding love of his life and, although there had been times when they had been separated for years at a stretch, the thought that he could never more return to her continued to cause him a grief that he felt he would never overcome.
On October 8th he reached St. Maxime and spent the next seven weeks there idling in the autumn sunshine. Daily he went for long rides or walks but only because it had been his habit of a lifetime to keep himself in perfect physical condition. Since Droopy had confirmed his fears about Georgina he had become a prey to a curious lassitude and lacked the urge to interest himself in anything; so it was only with an effort that he forced himself on November 20th to set out for Paris in order to keep his promise to be present at Napoleon's coronation.
When he reached the capital he learned that the Emperor was at Fontaineblcau, so next day he rode on there and found the little town swarming with busy people. Two days earlier Pope Pius VII, lured by promises of concessions to the Roman Catholic Church in France, which Napoleon had no intention of fulfilling, had arrived there. To avoid any ceremonial reception in which he might appear to be taking second place, Napoleon had arranged a hunt in the forest then, apparently by chance, intercepted the Pontiff's carriage a few miles from the Palace.
The last time Roger had been at Fontaineblcau King Louis and Queen Marie Antoinette had been in residence; but gracious and colourful as their Court had been, it paled beside the splendour of that of the new monarch. Having lodged his baggage in an attic room already occupied by two other A.D.C.s, Roger had to exercise all his patience that evening in worming his way through the press of dignitaries, Marshals, Ambassadors and prelates to present himself.
Not long after the Imperial couple had withdrawn, Madame de Rcmusct, Josephine's. First lady in Waiting, managed to find him and told him that her mistress wished to sec him. She then took him down to a small boudoir on the ground floor where Josephine was reclining on a day bed.
As soon as they were alone, she said. T am so glad you have returned to us, mon cher Colonel. You have ever been my friend and I sadly need the advice of someone I can trust.'
Smiling, he assured her of his devotion, then she made him sit down and went on, 'You were largely instrumental in bringing about my marriage to Bonaparte and you will recall that it was a civil marriage. Moreover, although I blush to confess it, I falsified my age, so that I should not appear to be older than the Emperor. On either count he. could, if he wished, put me from him.'
'But why should he. Your Majesty?' Roger asked. 'Between us it is no secret that he has his peccadilloes, but they never last, and he is devoted to you.'
She sighed, 'It is this awful question of the succession. As you have been absent for so long you may not be aware of the situation. My hateful in-laws have fought for months like a pack of wolves over it, but at last it has been settled. Joseph, Lucien, Louis and Jerome have all been passed over, and it has now been vested in the natural or adopted son of Napoleon.'
'I see. And you are troubled because you have not yet provided him with an heir.'
'Alas, yes. And I fear now that I shall never do so. I have tried every nostrum that the doctors can propose but they have proved of no avail.'
'It can be no fault of yours. Madame, for you have had two fine children by your previous marriage, Eugene and Mortense. Since he has proved incapable of begetting a child.
'There is no proof of that,' she put in quickly. 'You may perhaps recall my reader Madame Duchatel. His affaire with her has caused me more tears than any of his others. I was even fool enough to break in upon them one evening when they were together in the room over the Orangery at St. Cloud. His rage was terrible. He declared that he was a man apart and a law unto himself; so that afterwards I almost felt that I was the guilty party. 'Tis rumoured that she is with child. Since she entered my service she lives apart from her old husband and, before she set her cap at Napoleon she was such a paragon of virtue that if she does have a child he will certainly believe it to be his.'
Her mention of Madame Duchatel swiftly recalled to Roger the fateful night on which d'Enghien had been executed. It was she who had been in Napoleon's bed when he had forced his way into the room above the Orangery. After a moment he said:
'But, Madame, even if she does give the Emperor a natural son he would never put you aside in order to take one of your ladies as his wife.'
'No, no,' replied Josephine hastily. 'I have no fear of that. And as a mistress for him she is certainly to be preferred to that horrid, grasping de Vaudry woman with whom he started an affaire while we were at Aix-la-Chapelle. My danger lies in the possibility of his proving to his own satisfaction that he is, after all, capable of becoming a father. Since my marriage to him is not valid in the eyes of the Church, he might repudiate me so that he could take to wife some young woman of Royal blood, thereby both elevating himself in the eyes of other monarchs and with the hope of getting a legitimate son by her.'
'Has he... er... given you any indication that he might take such a step?' Roger enquired diffidently.
'Praise be to God, no. But his horrid family are urging him to do so.'
For a moment Roger remained thoughtful, then he said, 'Since you have sought my advice, Madame, it is that you should spare no effort to persuade him to legalize the bond between you. And now is the time. Once this question is raised His Holiness could not possibly ignore it. Should it be brought to his attention that you are not man and wife in the eyes of the Church it is certain that he could not square it with his conscience to bless you both at the Coronation ceremony. And the Emperor cannot possibly afford to risk the Pope's now refusing to officiate at it.'
'You are right. Yes, you are right. But, circumscribed as I am, how can I bring such a situation about?'
After considering again Roger replied, 'I suggest, Madame, that you should make use of Fesch. Although he is a Bonaparte he is not a bad man, and as a priest he is under an obligation to shepherd you back into the bosom of the Church. Although he must be aware that you married without its blessing he cannot refuse to hear your formal confession and aid you, as a penitent, to regularize your position. Should he refuse, you could, as a last resort, tell him that you intend to speak to His Holiness himself. But I do not think that will be necessary.'
Josephine stood up. Roger rose too. With tears in her eyes she put her hands on his shoulders, kissed him on both cheeks and murmured, 'I will do as you suggest. For your wise counsel I can never thank you enough.'