The English Bride

by Joan Wolf

  The Prince grinned and went to take one of the room's curve-backed wooden chairs, gestured Lord Beaufort to the other, and the two men settled down to talk.

  The Prince's main concern for Jura's future was to get its economy, which had been stifled by the occupation and the ensuing British blockade, back into gear. One of the reasons that Jura had successfully resisted an Austrian takeover for so many years was that it had always had a prosperous economy that was independent of the Habsburg Empire. The Prince did not think it would be difficult to restore the extensive trade that Jura had always maintained with the German Confederation, but now that northern Italy was under Austrian rule he was concerned about that market.

  In the earl he had a sympathetic and knowledgeable listener. Lord Beaufort was half Jurian by birth, and his many years in the English government had made him very aware of the delicacy of the balance of power in the region of the Adriatic.

  Both men knew that the problem facing Jura was that Austria wanted Jura's port of Seista. Having both Venice and Seista would give the Austrians a stranglehold on the Adriatic. Needless to say, this was not a situation that the Great Powers viewed with equanimity, which is why Jura had been awarded its independence in the Final Act of the Congress of Vienna. However, the Prince was under no illusion that the emperor had given up on his hopes of acquiring Seista.

  The earl understood this as well, and the two men debated the means by which the Prince could restore the vigor of the Jurian economy and at the same time avoid the blocks that Austria was sure to put in his way.

  It was after midnight when the Prince finally looked toward his berth, expecting to see a sleeping Charity. Instead she was sitting cross-legged, her dress spread discreetly over her ankles, her back propped against the wall. She looked as alert as she had been two hours ago.

  "I thought you would be asleep," he said in surprise.

  The brown eyes were affronted. "I was listening to you and Papa. It was much more interesting than going to sleep."

  "Interesting?" he said incredulously.

  Lord Beaufort laughed. "Charity read The Wealth of Nations this year and in consequence has become a great proponent of free trade."

  Charity said earnestly, "Austria should not be allowed to impose tariffs on Jurian trade."

  He realized with astonishment that she really had been listening. And what was even more amazing, apparently she had understood.

  Overnight the Falcon sailed into the heart of the storm, and by morning rain was lashing the ship's decks. The Prince borrowed rain gear from an accommodating Commander Nelson and went up on deck to get some air. As he was returning down the narrow staircase that led to the deck of his stateroom, he found Charity sitting on the stairs, just far enough down to shelter from the rain.

  "Good heavens," he said in surprise, stopping a few steps above her. "What are you doing here?"

  She stood up and turned to face him. "I was trying to get a little air. My room is so stuffy. It's almost as bad as the Regent's Pavilion."

  At that he laughed.

  "This rain is so boring," she said disconsolately. "I thought I would be able to be out on the deck where I could watch the sea and the sky and perhaps see Gibraltar as we passed through, but all it does is rain and the captain said I could not go up on deck.

  "It’s very windy up there," he said briskly. "You might get blown overboard."

  “I’d hold onto the rail."

  He realized it was not a good idea for her to be wandering unescorted around a naval ship. "Where is your father?"

  "Even Papa did not feel very well this morning. He threw up his breakfast."

  "Oh." He was just about to suggest that she ought to return to the safety of her room, when she peeked up at him hopefully and asked, "What are you going to do, Prince?"

  He didn't know. The rain was indeed a nuisance, and he felt it would be unfeeling of him to order her back to her small, stuffy room. "Do you play chess?" he asked doubtfully.

  She really had the most wonderful smile. "I am a stupendous chess player," she informed him. "Do you think there is a set we might use?"

  "There's one in my cabin," he said. "Come along."

  They spent the rest of the day playing chess. True to her word, Charity was highly skilled at the game, playing with single-minded intensity. She hunched over the board, chewing on her hair and shooting him suspicious looks as she scrutinized his most recent move. He looked at her long, curved lashes as she stared at the pieces, muttering to herself, and thought that she was utterly delightful.

  The following day the sky cleared, the sea smoothed, the seasickness victims arose from their beds, and the Prince's opportunities to be alone with Charity were over. The Falcon sailed through the sunny Mediterranean, around the heel of Italy and into the Adriatic. There for the first time the vessel turned north, sailing in the direction of the twin jewels of the Adriatic: Venice and Seista.

  It was a brilliantly sunny and hot July day when the Falcon sailed into the Gulf of Seista. The Prince stood alone on deck and looked past the long waterfront to the narrow streets behind that sloped upward to San Giovanni Hill, upon which were perched the three great landmarks of Seista's history: the ruins of a Roman basilica; a colossal medieval fortress; and the splendid Renaissance Cathedral of San Giovanni.

  The Prince felt the warm sun on his bare head as he looked from the ships tied up in the port—which had a history dating back to ancient Roman times—to the dominating height of San Giovanni Hill, and he felt a weight lift from his chest.

  He was home.

  Part Two

  JURA

  1815

  9

  Julia, the capital city of Jura, was situated on the Mira River some fifty miles inland from Seista. It had been founded and named by Augustus Caesar in 34 B.C., and part of the wall the Romans had built to enclose the city could still be seen. Seista was strongly Italian in its architecture and landscape, but the capital showed the influence of the many races that made up Jura's population. Only the Turkish influence, so obvious in most of the cities of Eastern Europe, was absent from Julia. The armies of Suleiman the Magnificent had subdued Hungary, and even reached the gates of Vienna in 1529, but the Ottomans had never been able to cross the Kava, the river that separated Austria from Jura. Jura had held the line against the Turks for almost five hundred years, and so while the buildings of Julia showed the influence of Rome, Italy, Germany, Austria, and the Slavic nations, there was no sign of Ottoman influence.

  As the coach carrying Charity to the Prince's palace drove along the west side of the Mira, she stared out its window at the sight of the city spread out upon the opposite bank. Against the clear blue sky the Gothic spires of the Cathedral of Saint Peter rose majestically above the palaces, churches, and homes of the Jurian capital.

  "That is the cathedral where Augustus will be married," Princess Caterina, who was sharing the chaise with Charity, informed her.

  "It looks very beautiful," Charity murmured without turning around.

  She kept her eyes glued to the city as the coach rolled past the substantial stone bridge that connected the west bank with Julia. The Prince's residence, called simply the Pfalz, or Palace, because his grandfather had not been able to decide upon a name he liked, lay several miles to the south of the city limits. As the last houses of Julia disappeared from view, Charity turned her eyes to the waters of the blue-gray Mira as it flowed peacefully under the summer sky.

  I'm here, she said to herself in wonder. I'm actually here. This is Jura. That river is the Mira. Soon we will be at the Pfalz. Her excitement was so tangible it felt like a bubble inside her chest; she had to breathe carefully to keep it from exploding.

  At last they reached the bridge that serviced the palace, and the coach turned onto the stone roadway and crossed the slowly moving water of the river. As they drove eastward, Charity looked at the gently rolling countryside and longed to be able to put her head out the window to get a better view. When finally th
e coach passed through a beautiful wrought iron gate, she could contain herself no longer, rolled the window all the way down and poked her head out so she could see the palace as they approached.

  Princess Caterina said, "Put that window up."

  Charity pretended she had not heard.

  "My father had the Pfalz built," Princess Mariana had told her granddaughter many times. "He engaged the same two architects who built Schönbrunn for the Empress Maria Theresa. It is not as large as Schönbrunn, of course—our palace has one hundred and twenty-six rooms whereas Schönbrunn has well over a thousand—but the architecture is very similar."

  Charity had never seen Schönbrunn, but the view in front of her now was all she had hoped for. A golden hued Baroque palace fronted by fountains lay at the end of the wide, graveled drive. The Pfalz was indeed built like Schönbrunn, with a central section flanked by two wings that curved away from it to form the shape of a U. In the middle of the front section a splendid double fan-shaped stairway led to a balcony that gave access to the main door of the palace. The balcony was supported on paired columns, which formed a ground-level colonnade along both sides of the main section. The pediment was decorated with statues and trophies, as was the balustrade.

  Charity was able to take all this in before a hand grabbed her dress and pulled her back into the carriage. "You act like a servant girl," Princess Caterina scolded. Charity was beginning an apology when the princess suddenly gasped in horror.

  "The statues!" she cried. "Where are the statues?" She was staring out the window Charity had vacated, at the fountain they were passing. Charity turned back to the window to look.

  The central statue of the fountain, a huge magnificent sculpture of Poseidon, was intact, but it appeared that the smaller statues that should be surrounding the god were missing. All that could be seen was bare piping.

  "Barbarians!" the princess cried in outrage. "They robbed the fountain. Augustus must find out who took the statues and get them back."

  She continued indignantly in this vein as the carriage rolled to a halt at the front door of the Pfalz, where the Prince and Lord Beaufort, who had traveled in another carriage, awaited them.

  A liveried footman hurried to set the carriage steps, and another opened the door. As the princess was helped down she directed a stream of excited Italian at her son concerning the lost statues.

  "I didn't tell you about the theft because I hoped I would be able to recover the statues before you saw the fountain, Mama," the Prince replied in the same language. "Napoleon's marshal, who lived in the Pfalz during the occupation, took them—and a number of other things as well. But King Louis is sympathetic and I think we will get them back."

  This reassurance calmed the princess a little, although she continued to mutter unflattering epithets about the French under her breath as they mounted the beautiful fan staircase to the second, and main, floor of the Pfalz.

  Charity's eyes enlarged noticeably as she passed through the immense glass door into a huge room, whose ceiling was so high that it included the floor above. This immense domed ceiling was decorated by a large painting of Apollo driving the Chariot of the Sun. Gilded statues representing the Four Seasons stood in the four corners of the room, and the white walls with their elaborate gilt moldings were hung with tapestries. Three huge windows, which were topped by three more windows set below the ceiling, looked out upon the gardens and the park. This room, the princess informed Charity and her father, was called the Banqueting Room and was used by the royal family for state dinners and receptions.

  "This room and the Music Room next door take up the entire central part of the house," she continued. "Your chambers are in the east wing. I will have someone show you to them as I'm sure you must be weary from the journey."

  Charity didn't feel at all weary, but politeness dictated that she allow herself to be escorted to her bedroom, where she was to "tidy up and rest." She trudged dutifully along behind a white-wigged servant, who took her down a long passageway to her bedroom. As the door closed behind the servant, Charity looked around the pretty white-paneled room where she had been deposited. The fireplace was green marble and the hangings on the four-poster were of green silk. The pictures on the wall attracted her attention, as they were all mountain views of the Jurian Alps.

  The room's single window was very large, taking up almost an entire wall. Charity looked out and was delighted to find she had a view of the garden and the park. The garden was composed of magnificent ornamental flowerbeds crossed by wide avenues laid out in geometrical shapes. Behind the garden the woods of the park stretched as far as the eye could see.

  As Charity stood there gazing out, a figure dressed in riding clothes emerged from the palace and ran lightly down the terrace steps to the pathway parallel to the house. It was the Prince.

  Without stopping to think, Charity whirled around and dashed out of her room to follow him.

  "Where are the stables and how do I get there?" she demanded of the startled lackey she met at the end of the passageway.

  He gave her directions and she raced down an elegant carved staircase to the ground floor, which was taken up by the largest room in the Pfalz. This immense chamber lay below the Banqueting Room and the Music Room and was divided into three sections by pilasters. Green-and-gold plasterwork embellished every wall, the floor was marble, and the ceiling was decorated by frescoes.

  Charity did not notice any of this, however. She hurried to an immense glass door on the back wall, opened it, and exited onto the terrace. The south facade of the house facing the park was similar to the main one. The central section featured pilasters that framed eleven large windows, topped by a balustrade.

  Charity followed the path the Prince had taken, which led her along the length of the Pfalz's east wing and down a gently sloping hill, at the bottom of which lay a group of buildings that the lackey had informed Charity were the stables.

  She had been horribly disappointed when they had not stopped at Lipizza on the way from Seista to Julia, but the Prince had told her that he had most of the trained Lipizzaners in his own stable at the Pfalz, and she was determined to see them as soon as she could. It was not until she walked into the stable yard, hatless and gloveless in her wrinkled travel dress, and encountered the amazed stares of a variety of grooms, that she began to think that perhaps she had been a little precipitate.

  Charity gave the closest groom a friendly smile and announced herself as Lady Charity Debritt in search of Prince Augustus. Before the groom could reply, the Prince himself walked out of the stable building, which was of the same golden hue as the palace. He was accompanied by a slender, gray-haired man, also dressed in riding clothes, and it was this man who first noticed Charity. He said something to the Prince, whose head swung around sharply in her direction. He stopped walking and continued to look at her.

  I shouldn't have come, Charity thought in dismay. Slowly she crossed the yard until she was standing in front of him. "I saw you leave the house in riding clothes and I followed you," she confessed, bravely looking up into his face. "If I am in your way, I'll go back."

  The faint frown that had marked his brows lifted, and his gray eyes glinted with sudden amusement. "Don't tell me. You want to see the Lipizzaners."

  His amusement lifted Charity's spirit and she smiled back. "I desperately want to see them. Are you going to ride one of them, Prince?"

  "I might."

  Charity's eyes sparkled with indignation at this terse reply. She said testily, "Nothing is more annoying than people who won't give one a direct answer."

  His amusement deepened and he said, "Lady Charity, may I present my new écuyer, Lord Louis Hunersdorf, the esteemed author of Guidelines to the Training of Horses in the Most Natural and Best Manner."

  To the obvious astonishment of both men, Charity replied enthusiastically, "I have read your wonderful book, Lord Louis. I thought your instructions on how to achieve lightness of the forehand were particularly illuminating." />
  "You have read my book, Lady Charity?" the Horse Master repeated in wonder. "But I thought you were English!"

  "Apparently not all the English are as unenlightened about horsemanship as we have supposed, Louis," the Prince said with a smile.

  "Most of them are," Charity replied frankly. "We have no manège riding in England outside the circus, which is why I have been so anxious to see the Lipizzaners."

  "I regret that His Highness's horses are not at the level we would like," the écuyer said regretfully. "They spent most of the war years turned out on pasture in Hungary, and it will take more than the six months we have had them back to return them to where they were before the evacuation."

  "I am planning to stage a mounted carousel as one of the entertainments for the wedding," the Prince explained. "Lord Louis is going to put together a series of quadrilles that the horses can manage."

  Charity clapped her hands. "How marvelous. I can hardly wait to see it."

  The Prince said briskly, "Well, we'll start by showing you the stable, then the manège, and perhaps I will have enough time to ride Schani for you."

  She clapped her hands again. "Who is Schani?"

  "He is my own horse. I got him when I was fifteen and he was five. He's seventeen now and his joints are just as springy as they were when he was young. We have always been the best of friends."

  Charity had one of the most wonderful afternoons of her life as she accompanied the Prince and his écuyer around the stables. The Lipizzaners were housed in a big airy stable, with large individual stalls deeply bedded with fresh straw and dutch doors that opened into individual paddocks. The manège, or indoor riding arena, was a three-story building that resembled a Greek temple, with an open riding ring inside surrounded by a gallery for viewers. This is where Charity sat watching while the Prince rode his pure white Lipizzaner under the instruction of Lord Louis.