The Power and the Prince

by Barbara Cartland

  “Black!” Charlotte exclaimed. “Are you sure, Alana? Remember, you have to look beautiful, much more beautiful than me.”

  “It will look fantastic,” Alana said positively.

  She put the gown over her arm and kissed Charlotte on the cheek.

  “Cheer up. I have a feeling that everything is going to be all right for you and Shane.”

  “What sort of feeling?”

  “A magic feeling like the one you attributed to Papa.”

  Charlotte’s smile made her look radiant.

  “Do you really mean it?”

  “I really mean it,” Alana replied, “and you know I would not say so otherwise.”

  “Now you are making me feel happy again,” Charlotte said, “and, if I cannot talk to Shane at the beginning of the evening, will you tell him if you have the chance that I love him?”

  “I think he knows that already,” Alana smiled, “but I will most certainly tell him that you said so.”

  She went to her own room, where her maid was waiting to help her undress so that she could rest.

  “I wonder if you would do something for me,” Alana asked her.

  “Of course, my Lady.”

  “Then would you please ask the gardeners who are preparing the flowers for this evening if it would be possible for me to have a number of small white flowers, in fact quite a large amount of them?”

  “What sort of flowers, my Lady?”

  “I must leave that to them,” Alana replied. “Perhaps they will not have many that are white, but please ask them to try.”

  “I’ll tell them, my Lady.”

  The maid looked somewhat disparagingly at the gown that Alana had brought from Charlotte’s room and then she said,

  “I’m thinkin’ your Ladyship’ll need flowers to cheer that up a bit. There’s not many ladies’ll be wearin’ the black, not when they’re dancin’.”

  “That is what I thought,” Alana said quietly.

  Later, when the maid was arranging her hair, there was a knock on the door to say that the flowers had arrived.

  When Alana saw them she gave an exclamation of delight.

  The gardeners had not failed her. There were dozens and dozens of orchids, exquisite in their star-shaped delicate fragility and pure white except for their stamens.

  With the maid’s help Alana pinned the orchids round the décolletage of her gown and, when she put it on, she realised that it not only made her figure almost startlingly shapely it also accentuated the translucent whiteness of her skin.

  The orchids gave her a touch of fantasy and there was no doubt that she looked very unlike the ordinary Society debutante she was supposed to be.

  With the remaining blooms she constructed a wreath that encircled the back of her small head like a halo and this too made her look ethereal and at the same time amazingly beautiful.

  “I’ve never seen anythin’ like it, my Lady,” the maid exclaimed. “I never expected a black gown could look as fantastic as that.”

  “Thank you, Judy.”

  “You’ll be the belle of the ball, that’s what you’ll be,” the maid enthused. “But her Ladyship’ll – ”

  Alana was aware that the maid had been about to say, ‘her Ladyship will not approve’ when she lapsed into silence.

  Because she was determined to help Charlotte by attracting the Prince’s attention, Alana deliberately waited until she thought that a number of the guests would have arrived already.

  There would be over a hundred for dinner tonight and she had heard the carriages coming up the drive for a long time before she finally took a last glance at herself in the mirror.

  Then she began to walk slowly along the corridor towards the Grand Staircase that led down to the huge marble hall.

  As she descended slowly, she told herself that she was playing a part not in a play but in Grand Opera.

  How could she possibly be Alana, the help from the Vicarage, when she was dressed like a leading actress and deceiving one of the most notorious personalities in Europe?

  Then, like a cold hand sweeping away her excitement and elation, she thought that perhaps her efforts would be in vain and the Prince would continue to ignore her as he had done all day.

  In which case she would fail in her endeavour to help Charlotte and would return to the Vicarage as a failure without even the consolation of her friendship with Richard in the future.

  She was halfway down the stairs when she remembered what she had said to Shane when they were out driving.

  ‘I must succeed! I will succeed!’ she murmured beneath her breath. ‘I am not fighting for myself but for Charlotte and for what is right and good. The Power is there to help me – if I can but – use it.’

  She thought of the icons hidden away in the room that the Prince had taken her to and she had a sudden longing to go there and ask for their help.

  She knew that the help she needed was not only concentrated in the icons, it was within reach as it always had been if you could only find a way to be in touch with it.

  She drew in her breath and, as she walked across the hall, she felt as if she sent out a cry that winged its way towards the sky.

  Then, with her head held high, her eyes very large and dark in her small face, she walked into the salon.

  The Prince was standing just inside the door, waiting to receive the few remaining guests who had not yet arrived.

  As Alana entered, her eyes met his and for a moment it seemed as if he recognised her not as one of his guests but across time and space.

  She stopped still and neither of them spoke.

  She felt as if there was no need for words. Something flowed between them that could never have been expressed by anything but music.

  Afterwards Alana wondered how long they stood there gazing at each other before Lady Odele interrupted by saying sharply,

  “You are late, Lady Alana. And how extraordinary of you to wear black!”

  With an effort Alana forced herself to look at the angry face of the professional beauty.

  “I am sorry if your Ladyship does not like it”

  “It’s quite ridiculous on such a young girl,” Lady Odele snapped. “And so many flowers are ostentatious and extremely theatrical.”

  “You told me they were to be white” Alana replied.

  She moved away, seeing with relief that the Viscount was hurrying towards her.

  “You look marvellous! Stupendous!” he exclaimed.

  As Alana took a glass of champagne that was offered to her on a gold tray, he added in a low voice,

  “When all this is over, we shall have to make plans for your future. You cannot go back to the Vicarage.”

  Alana smiled.

  “There is no alternative – and I am – happy there.”

  “It’s ridiculous to think you can spend the rest of your life in the Vicarage at Brilling,” the Viscount asserted.

  There was a note in his voice that made Alana say quickly,

  “Where is Charlotte? I must find her.”

  She walked away, aware as she did so that the Viscount was staring after her with a strange expression on his face.

  Dinner was even more elaborate and more impressive than it had been the night before.

  When it was over and the ladies moved into the drawing room, Alana saw that Lady Odele had drawn Charlotte aside and was giving her some special instructions.

  She knew by Charlotte’s eyes that she was frightened and she wondered what was being said, until, as the gentlemen came into the room, Lady Odele announced,

  “Dancing will take place in the Silver Salon this evening and I have planned a special cotillion for you in about an hour’s time. There are lovely prizes, so I hope you will not miss them.”

  There were exclamations of excitement over this and the young went off towards the Silver Salon while Alana saw that a number of older guests who had been included in the dinner party tonight had stayed behind.

  Lady Odele gave th
em one of her famous smiles.

  “I know that you, Lord Sandford, you, Judge and, of course, Colonel Fawcett have no wish to dance, so I have arranged a surprise for you and our other friends in the Card Room. I just know you will all particularly thank me, because it is your favourite gambling game.”

  “Baccarat!” the Colonel exclaimed before Lord Sandford could speak.

  “Baccarat indeed” Lady Odele replied. “Go and start everybody playing, you hardened gamblers. The Prince and I will join you later.”

  As the young people went towards the Silver Salon, Alana hung back because she realised that Charlotte had not gone with them.

  So as not to draw attention to herself she then slipped out of sight behind a large arrangement of flowers.

  As the older guests moved towards the Card Room, she heard Lady Odele say,

  “Before you join the dancers, Charlotte, His Highness is most anxious to show you the Music Room. It is one of the most beautiful rooms in the house and I know that you will find it fascinating.”

  As she spoke, Lady Odele, the pale blue flounces of her gown rustling behind her, smiled at the Prince in a way that seemed to have a very special meaning and followed the others towards the Card Room.

  Charlotte looked, Alana thought, rather like a frightened little rabbit. Her eyes, very wide in her pale face, seemed to watch the Prince as if she was mesmerised.

  He stepped towards her, saying,

  “Shall we do what your aunt suggests? I feel that we have no choice but to obey her command.”

  Charlotte gave what was almost a cry of fear before she replied,

  “Of course I would like to see the Music Room, but Alana must come with us. Alana is really musical and she would be thrilled to see it, would you not, dearest?”

  She turned to where she had seen Alana hide, as she spoke, and there was an appeal in her voice that was unmistakable.

  Alana came from behind the flowers.

  “I would love to see the Music Room,” she said, “if His Highness does not mind my joining you.”

  She just knew that the Prince contemplated for one moment telling her that he did mind as he intended to take Charlotte there alone.

  Then there was a faintly mocking smile on his lips as he replied,

  “Of course, I am only too willing to escort two such beautiful young ladies.”

  Alana reached Charlotte’s side and slipped her hand into hers.

  She knew by the pressure of her fingers and the fact that she was trembling how terrified she was.

  They walked out of the hall and the Prince led the way down a wide corridor that was decorated with magnificent paintings and fine pieces of furniture.

  As they went, they could hear the music of a waltz coming from the Silver Salon and Alana wondered if Shane knew that Charlotte had been prevented from joining the other young guests and, if so, what he was feeling.

  They walked on for a long way and she was sure that Lady Odele had chosen the Music Room simply because it would be out of sight and sound of the party.

  Finally the Prince opened the door of a room with a domed ceiling, marble pillars and walls painted exquisitely with Chinese murals.

  It was a lovely romantic room and, as Alana saw the huge vases of flowers and was aware of their fragrance, she thought that it was obviously a perfect setting for a proposal of marriage.

  Because Charlotte was so nervous she exclaimed almost over-effusively about the room.

  “How pretty it is – quite lovely – and I see that Your Highness has an interesting collection of musical instruments.”

  Alana had already seen the piano, which was a fine Steinway painted with pictures in the French style.

  In another part of the room stood an ancient harp and against one wall was an exquisite satinwood spinet, which she thought must be several hundred years old.

  Although she was not looking at him, Alana was conscious that the Prince, still with a cynical mocking smile on his lips, was standing staring at her.

  He had brought her and Charlotte to this room, but it seemed as if, because his original purpose had been circumvented, he had no intention of behaving as a host would normally have done.

  She was sure that it was what he was feeling. Then, as she began to wonder if he would say that now that they had seen the room they could return to the Silver Salon, she gave a little start of surprise.

  Lying on a side table was a violin and she had only to look at it to know exactly what it was.

  “A Stradivarius!” she exclaimed.

  As she spoke, she put out her hand to touch it delicately.

  “It is. How did you know that?” the Prince enquired.

  “How could I not recognise it?” Alana asked. “Do tell me about it.”

  She had forgotten who she was talking to and it was a command.

  “It was made in 1733.” the Prince replied. “It has always been in my family and is therefore undamaged and as perfect today as it was when it was first made.”

  “How wonderful!”

  Without asking Alana picked it up in her hands and then said in a voice that was barely above a whisper,

  “If I could play it – it would be the most perfect thing that could ever – happen to me!”

  “You can play the violin?” the Prince asked,

  “Of course she can,” Charlotte replied and then added without thinking, “Her father was – ”

  Even as she spoke she realised that she was making a terrible mistake.

  But the Prince was not listening, he was looking at Alana,

  “Why not play it?” he suggested,

  “You mean that?”

  Alana’s eyes were brilliant with excitement, then without saying anything more she quickly tuned the strings, tucked the violin under her chin, and picked up the bow.

  For a moment she hesitated and then very softly began to play one of Mozart’s melodies from The Magic Flute, which had been her father’s favourite.

  She knew as the first sound seemed to flow out on the air that the music she was making was very different from any she had made before, simply because of the Master instrument that responded to her touch in a manner that she had never dreamt possible.

  The exquisite melody seemed gloriously to fill the room.

  Then, as she finished, she could not stop and with barely a pause she went on into a composition of her father’s.

  It was one he had written in her mother’s memory and it was a cry of loneliness, of mourning.

  It was a cry of love that could never die, a love which, because it was perfect, transcended death in the belief that neither life nor love could ever die.

  It ended with a clarion call from a heart that suffered but in its suffering still believed.

  It moved Alana tremendously as it always had when her father had played that particular piece and, as the last note throbbed away into silence, tears were running down her cheeks.

  Only as she gave a sigh that came from the very depths of her being and, only as she took the violin from beneath her chin, was she aware that the Prince was leaning against one of the marble pillars and Charlotte was no longer in the room.

  For a moment it was impossible to speak, impossible to step back into the present from the other world that the music had carried her into.

  Then she put the violin back on the table where she had found it and laid the bow beside it and for the first time she was aware that her cheeks were wet.

  She fumbled in her belt for a handkerchief and before she could find it the Prince had crossed the room to stand beside her.

  Taking a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his evening coat, he wiped away her tears.

  For a moment Alana hardly knew what was happening before the Prince’s fingers beneath her chin tipped her face up to his and he looked down into her eyes.

  It was then that she was aware, tinglingly aware, that he was beside her and that, as he touched her cheek, his face was very near.

 
For a moment they just gazed at each other, until, as if it was still part of the music and as if they were still in another world that they had both been carried into, the Prince’s arms went round Alana and his lips were on hers.

  It was perfect and inevitable and there was no shock or surprise, only a feeling that this was meant to happen because it was foreordained and neither she nor the Prince had any decision to make in the matter.

  Just for one second his lips were impersonal and then they became identified with the wonder that had been in the throbbing of the melody, the glory of the faith that the music had expressed and the love that surmounted death and was Divine.

  Alana felt as if everything that was beautiful moved within her to become more intense and more rapturous than she had ever imagined it could be.

  She felt as if the Prince’s lips gave her all the loveliness she had seen since she came to Charl Castle and what she had felt last night from the vibrations of the icons.

  But now it was not only hers but his and she felt his lips becoming more demanding and more possessive as he drew her closer and still closer so that she loved him not only with her mind and her heart but with her soul.

  How long the kiss lasted Alana had no idea, she only knew that, when the Prince raised his head, she was quivering with an ecstasy that was beyond expression, beyond thought.

  She had ceased to exist as herself and was in a world that held only him and him alone.

  Because it was so intense, she rested her head against his shoulder as if needing support.

  He looked down into her eyes, shining now with the glory that he had aroused in her, at her lips parted because it was hard to breathe and at the faint flush on her cheeks.

  There was no need for words as she knew what he was thinking.

  Then with a sound that was one of triumph, he was kissing her again, kissing her now more passionately and more fiercely as if he was no longer God-like but very human and he needed her as a woman.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  As soon as Alana started to play the violin and Charlotte saw that the Prince was listening to her intently, she backed towards the door, certain as she slipped out of the room that neither of them noticed her leaving.

  She ran almost frantically back along the corridor that they had just come down feeling as if she had escaped from a trap that had cleverly been baited by her aunt and which for one terrifying moment she had thought would keep her a prisoner forever.