The Power and the Prince

by Barbara Cartland

  “The icons I showed you at The Castle belonged to my father. They had never been unpacked from the time he left Russia until I bought The Castle.”

  “You had never seen them!” Alana exclaimed.

  The Prince shook his head.

  “Not until I had constructed that room especially for them and you were one of the first people besides myself to enter it.”

  Alana looked at him wide-eyed, but he went on,

  “As perhaps you may know, my father married the Duke of Warminster’s daughter and when I was born I was brought up to be English in every possible way. I was sent to English schools and to an English University. I even served for three years in a British Regiment before my father died. Then I realised that, as my own Master, I need no longer conform entirely to the dictates that he had imposed upon me ever since I was a child.”

  The Prince paused for a moment before he said in a voice that seemed almost to ring out in the nursery,

  “But I personally loathed and detested everything that was Russian.”

  There was silence.

  And then Alana asked,

  “But even so – you were still half-Russian.”

  “Do you suppose I was not aware of that?” the Prince asked almost harshly. “I fought against every emotion that I knew conflicted with the English side of my character. Most of all I fought against what you would call ‘instinct’, those feelings, those perceptions and the inner knowledge that no Englishman is capable of feeling or understanding.”

  He gave a deep sigh.

  “I am telling you this so that you will understand when I tell you that I made a terrible mistake in marrying not, as my father would have wished me to do, an English girl, but a Hungarian.”

  “But you – loved her?”

  Alana had the feeling that the question was impertinent, but it came from her lips instinctively.

  “Yes, I loved her,” the Prince admitted. “At least I thought I did. She was very beautiful, very wild, a dashing horsewoman and we seemed to have a great deal in common.”

  His eyes in the light from the oil lamp were bleak as he went on,

  “A few weeks after I was married, I realised that I had made a dreadful mistake, but it was too late and there was nothing I could do about it. Then, as you know, she was injured in a riding accident, which was entirely her own fault and should never have happened.”

  “It was very – tragic,” Alana said softly.

  “It was not really tragic for me because I was free to roam the world, to do as I wished and to have, as you have doubtless heard, a great number of love affairs.”

  His lips curled mockingly for a moment as he added,

  “And how many falsehoods lie in that word ‘love’?”

  There was great bitterness in the way he spoke and Alana could think only of the beautiful women who had thrown themselves at his feet, women like Lady Odele, who in her own way had given him her heart even if it was a shallow one.

  “Yes, there were women and plenty of them,” the Prince said, “but I was always determined that my wife should be English and as conventional and unimaginative as my mother had been. It was what my father had wanted and I wanted the same thing.”

  He looked at Alana for a long moment and then he said,

  “Because my wife died only a short time ago, I had to wait longer than I intended. But as soon as I was free, I told myself that I would now plan my life in the way that I had always intended. I would have a family who would only be one-quarter Russian and that part of my blood that I had always hated would be gradually eliminated down the generations.”

  Because he spoke so positively in a way that seemed to vibrate from him, Alana clasped her hands together, but she did not speak.

  “Then you know what happened,” the Prince said in a different tone of voice. “You came to The Castle with the girl whom Lady Odele had chosen as my bride-to-be and awoke within me all the feelings that I had denied and thrust from me ever since I had been a young boy.”

  “It was – not intentional.”

  “I know that,” the Prince replied. “But, as soon as we looked at each other, you knew as well as I did that something passed between us that was different from anything I had experienced with any other person in my whole life and I cannot believe that you have ever felt it with anybody except me.”

  Alana’s lips moved, but, as if she thought that it would be a mistake to interrupt his thoughts, she said nothing and the Prince went on,

  “God knows it is difficult to explain to you why I took you into the room with the icons. It was, I think, because I wanted to prove to myself I was not imagining what you were making me feel.”

  “Anyone would have been – moved, as I was, by the – beauty of them,” Alana said hesitatingly.

  “You know that is not true,” the Prince said sharply. “What you felt and what I felt was quite different from the reaction of any ordinary person. They would have admired their beauty and they would have appreciated their value, but do you think they would have felt, as you did, their power and vibrations or, as you said yourself, God speaking through them?”

  Alana looked down at her clasped hands and the Prince went on,

  “I knew when we left that room that you had frightened me in a way that I had never been frightened before.”

  “Frightened – you?”

  “But of course! Frightened that everything that was Russian within me was coming to the surface. It was like a volcano erupting through the outer crust that I had always believed I held under control, but which crumbled at your touch.”

  “I am sure – that is not – true.”

  “What I am telling you is the truth,” the Prince said. “And I hated you because you disturbed me so profoundly.”

  “You – avoided me the – next day.”

  “I meant to. I could not speak to you, but do you suppose that I was not vividly conscious of you every second, every minute? I felt it was as if, like the icons, you drew me by a kind of mesmerism and I could not escape.”

  Alana thought that that was exactly how she had felt about the Prince.

  He was mesmeric and she knew that it was the reason why she could not cease thinking of him and could not put him out of her mind.

  “I told myself I would be free of you,” the Prince went on. “I had only to stick to the original plan that Lady Odele had made for me and marry her niece Charlotte. Once she was my wife, you would go back to Ireland and I would never see you again.”

  He gave a little laugh.

  “I had underestimated again the force and power of the Russian side of my character. The volcano was still raging, the flames leaping higher and higher and, when you played to me on the violin, you told me what you were feeling and thinking and there was nothing I could do but – surrender.”

  The Prince spoke the last word very softly and Alana felt as if her heart turned over in her breast.

  “I understood then,” he said, “that love is something that cannot be denied and cannot be refused. I had found love when I least expected it, after all the long years of thinking that the real ecstasy and wonder of it was something that would never exist for me.”

  “Why – should you have – thought that?”

  “Because,” the Prince said quietly, “the sort of love I wanted and needed was a love that only a Russian could aim for.”

  He made a gesture with his hands almost of helplessness before he carried on,

  “How can I explain? To a Russian, love is part of the soul. In other countries it is an emotion of the heart, but to a Russian it is part of his belief in God, a part so intrinsically wrapped up with his faith and the very breath he draws that it can never take second place to anything in his life.”

  The way the Prince spoke was very moving and Alana recognised that it was what she too had always felt and believed.

  His eyes were on her face as if he read her thoughts.

  Then he said,

  “Now y
ou understand that I have come here to ask you if you will be my wife.”

  For a moment Alana felt that she could not have heard him aright.

  Then, as she looked into his eyes, she knew that he had said it and it flashed through her mind that it was the most incredibly unbelievably wonderful thing that had ever happened to her.

  Prince Ivan Katinouski had asked if she would marry him!

  Without realising that she was doing so, she rose to her feet and held on to the high nursery guard as if it gave her support as she said,

  “D-do you – realise what you are – s-saying?”

  “Of course I realise it,” the Prince answered. “It drove me nearly mad trying to find you! When Charlotte told me that you were not Shane’s cousin and that, after they had inveigled you into coming to The Castle to divert my attention from Charlotte, you had disappeared and I thought I would go insane.”

  “They said that you would not – find me?” Alana asked.

  “They said I would not only be unable to do so but it would be a great mistake if I did.”

  “That – is what – it is.”

  Alana drew in her breath.

  “I am very honoured that Your Highness should have – sought me out and that you should have – asked me to – marry you – but my answer is – ‘no’.”

  “No?”

  The Prince shouted the word almost like a pistol shot.

  “No,” Alana repeated, although her voice trembled. “And now, Your Highness, please go! There is nothing more to say and I am sure that one day you will find someone who will be – suitable as your wife and will make you – happy.”

  The Prince did not move, he merely said, gazing at her as she stared down at the fire.

  “Do you imagine for one moment that I will accept your decision or allow you to refuse me?”

  He saw her give a little quiver as if with fear and then she said,

  “It is – something you – have to do.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I cannot marry you. In fact – I shall never – marry anybody.”

  “Why should you say that?” the Prince asked. “How can you possibly make such an absurd statement?”

  “It’s true – but I don’t wish to talk about it.”

  “Do you really think that I would accept your decision without an explanation? And a very convincing one?”

  Alana turned to look at him and he saw an expression in her eyes that he thought made her suddenly look tragic and at the same time infinitely pathetic.

  “You are hiding something else. I suppose I always knew that there was something mysterious about you. When Charlotte told me who you were, I thought that was the reason for what I felt. Now I know it is something different.”

  “Please – please,” Alana begged, “do not use your instinct where – I am concerned. Just – go away and leave me alone – there is nothing more to say.”

  “That is impossible!”

  “Please – I beg of you.”

  “Then I must refuse your plea,” the Prince replied, “not only for my sake but for yours. You know as well as I do that we belong to each other, Alana, and I can make you happy.”

  He smiled in a manner that was very beguiling as he added,

  “Now I am being Russian, but I am convinced that we shall be incredibly happy together in what, surprisingly as far as the rest of the world is concerned, will be a perfect marriage.”

  “B-but I – cannot – marry you.”

  There was a sob on the words that the Prince did not miss.

  “Why not, my darling?” he asked. “You know that I love you and I know already that you love me. You told me what you felt in music and, when I kissed your lips, you gave me your soul.”

  “But – I still cannot – marry you,” Alana murmured.

  “Tell me why!” he insisted. “I must know. Do you imagine I could go away and spend the rest of my life in agony, ignorance and doubt? My precious Alana, be practical. We may travel together towards the stars, but we still have to live on this earth. You have already made me suffer more than any man should be expected to endure in one lifetime.”

  Alana gave a little sigh and he thought that she was near to tears.

  Then she said,

  “Very well – I will tell you – then you will – understand that not only can I not marry you but you will no longer – wish to marry me.”

  The Prince merely smiled very gently and she knew that he did not believe her.

  “I suppose,” she said, “you will not – accept the – obvious reason – that I am – as you see, a paid helper in a Vicarage, an orphan with no money – no background and unsuitable in every way to be the – wife of Prince Ivan Katinouski.”

  “You forget,” he replied, “that I have also seen you act the part of a Society lady so brilliantly and so flawlessly that it could not have been pretence, but was something completely natural to you.”

  His voice died away into silence and then before Alana could speak he went on,

  “Feeling as we do for each other, it would not matter if you had been born in the gutter and brought up in a slum. It would not matter who your parents were or what menial tasks you have had to perform in order to live. You are mine, Alana, mine since the beginning of time and mine for the rest of Eternity and, whether you marry me or not, that is an indisputable fact.”

  Alana was trembling at the passion in his words and after a moment he said very quietly,

  “I am not touching you as I want to do. I am not taking an unfair advantage, because I know if I kissed you again there would really be no need for words. We would be joined as we were before and there would be no more arguments as to whether or not you were mine.”

  His voice deepened as he said,

  “I want to kiss you, God knows I want it, and it is with the greatest difficulty that I am restraining myself. So hurry, my precious one, and say what you have to say before I take you in my arms.”

  Now Alana put up her hands almost as if he had moved towards her and she was fending him off.

  Then, as if she could not bear to look at him and see the love in his eyes, she closed her own before she said in a voice that he could barely hear,

  “My father, as I expect Charlotte told you, was Irving Wickham, a music teacher – but my mother was – Princess Natasha Katinouski!”

  There was silence as the Prince stared at her.

  Then he said,

  “My relative?”

  “Your father’s – cousin.”

  “She must have married your father long after mine had left Russia.”

  “Many years later.”

  “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  Alana drew a deep breath.

  “My grandfather, much to the annoyance of the Wickham family, was extremely musical. He refused to be interested in his father’s estates, but attached himself to one of the big Orchestras in the North and became a well-known conductor, calling himself Axel Alstone.”

  Alana paused almost as if she thought that the Prince might say that he had heard of him.

  Then, as he did not speak, she went on,

  “It was arranged that my grandfather should take his orchestra on a tour of Europe – ending in St. Petersburg.”

  “What year was this?” the Prince interposed.

  “In 1858, three years after Czar Nicholas had died and Alexander II had come to the throne.”

  “A very different Czar!”

  “So I believe,” Alana agreed, “but that did not help my mother.”

  “Why not?”

  “My grandfather was taken ill in Warsaw. My beloved father, who was First Violin, rather than disappoint the other members of the Orchestra, took his father’s place and they went on to St. Petersburg.”

  “It was there, I suppose,” the Prince commented, “that he met my father’s cousin, your mother?”

  “She was very young and more beautiful, my father told me, than anyone he had ever se
en before in his life. She asked him to give her music lessons and, as you know, it was fashionable amongst the Russian aristocracy at that time to have distinguished music teachers and the majority of them were French.”

  “So they fell in love as we fell in love,” the Prince finished softly.

  “They – fell in love,” Alana said, “and, because they knew my mother’s father would never countenance such a marriage, they – ran away together.”

  “That was brave of them.”

  “They were married in a small obscure Church on the borders of Russia. Then they slipped into Poland and thought that they were safe and could – live there happily ever – afterwards.”

  Alana’s voice broke on the last words and the Prince asked,

  “What happened?”

  “I suppose my mother was not aware of it, but, after your father left Russia, Czar Nicholas had put a complete and absolute ban on any Katinouskis ever leaving the country again. If they tried to do so, he ordered the Secret Police to follow them and bring them back to stand trial or, if they resisted, kill them!”

  The Prince sat up abruptly in his chair.

  “I had no idea of this. Why was my father not assassinated?”

  “Perhaps your father was too important, too rich and had too many distinguished European friends,” Alana answered. “But my father and mother were in a very different category. They learnt through a Russian friend who was devoted to my mother that they were being sought by the Secret Police and the only way they could save themselves was by going into hiding.”

  The Prince’s eyes expressed all too clearly that he knew what this meant.

  “My father could not continue to play in the Orchestra, for they could go nowhere where they might be recognised,” Alana went on. “For some years they lived in Holland, but, as it became increasingly difficult to earn a living there, they went to Paris. It was only when Czar Alexander showed himself not to be the despot and tyrant that Czar Nicholas had been that they were brave enough to come to England. But they thought that it was an unnecessary risk to live on my grandfather’s estates or to be too much in the company of the Wickhams.”

  “So they settled in Brilling,” the Prince said, as if he knew the end of the story,

  “They came here and my father gave music lessons and, although they were poor – they were very very happy until my mother died.”