“Oh good grief, no! I’ve never met him before, but he’s a friend of my sister. My stepsister Caroline, not Augusta. Were you successful in your own quest?”
He sighed, guiding me considerately around a rather stagnant-looking puddle. “No.”
He seemed so resigned and yet disconsolate that I asked sympathetically, “Is it some family member you’ve lost?”
“No, thank God,” he said quickly. “Just someone who made an impression on me during the revolution. In fact, he saved my life, and if you want the truth, that is what chiefly influenced my decision not to fire on the demonstrators.”
“Then you wish to become friends, now it is all over?”
He shook his head, his smile twisted. “You jump ahead too quickly. I’m really trying to discover if he’s still alive. He was still there when my replacement did fire on the mob.”
“Oh.”
We turned into a slightly wider street where Friedrich almost at once stopped a cab and ushered me inside before closing the door. “For the sake of your reputation, we shouldn’t travel together,” he explained. “But you will go straight back to the palace, won’t you?”
“Yes, I will,” I agreed. I thought I’d done all I could for tonight.
Friedrich told the driver to take me to the palace and stood back.
As we drove away from the poorer part of the town, I thrust Friedrich’s rather tragic story aside and mulled over Kasimir’s plan. I’d assumed he wanted Dr. Alcuin to pronounce him alive and sane, but it now struck me he might also be planning to use the doctor’s network of opposition support to help him depose Leopold.
This wasn’t going to be good for Augusta.
The palace in Rundberg was very different from the castle. A much newer building, it dated from the early eighteenth century, and since the business of government took place there, much of it was taken up with offices and public reception rooms. Two floors were set aside as for private family use—most of the ducal court lived elsewhere in the city. The duke and duchess had a suite of rooms on one side of the first floor. A huge drawing room, a dining room, and a small sitting room separated them from Prince Heribert’s rooms. Other, more distant members of the family had more modest quarters on the floor above, along with the baroness and Hilde. My room was on this floor too, although it looked rather more like a broom cupboard; once my trunk and I were in it, there really wasn’t room for furniture.
By this stage, I actually thought it was funny. I didn’t really care where I slept. My head and heart were full of Kasimir, of the intense, spontaneous love he’d made to me. It was the most enchanting thing that had ever happened to me and seemed to have turned my sensible self upside down. In the three nights since we’d left the castle, I would lie awake for some hours, remembering his every touch, every kiss, the strange, earthy, and yet infinitely sweet pleasure of our joining.
The happiness was bittersweet, for although I regretted nothing, I had few illusions. I understood that I’d been a moment of comfort to a lonely and wronged man still considerably under the influence of a drug. His casual proposal of marriage brought a lump to my throat, for I knew it could never be, and yet I knew too that in my heart, I wanted nothing more. For the first time in my life, I wanted to be with another human being, to live with him, discover him, enjoy him. Love him.
But I’d never have that chance. The most I could do was help free him from the torture of his prison. And this, despite the effect on Augusta, on my family, and even on my government, I was determined to do. I now had a means of communication with Dr. Alcuin, via the journalist Patrick Haggard and his radical young friends. I was making things happen, and I was glad.
As a result, I swept into the palace in an excellent mood, cheerfully greeting the soldiers on guard duty and the various departing functionaries and ministers I encountered on the way in, and the odd familiar face I met on my way upstairs to my own little cupboard. Being neglected brought its own advantages, namely that I could more or less come and go as I pleased without supervision or chaperone. Or even a maid.
Paying lip service to my duties, my reason for being in Silberwald at all, I went to the sitting room where I found the duke and his brother taking tea with Augusta and her ladies. No one seemed to notice my arrival, apart from Prince Heribert, whose eyes lit up in a predatory kind of way I disliked. I hoped he’d had no more than a glass of wine, and went and sat as far away from him as I could while the baroness poured the tea.
She’d done so last night too. I hadn’t drunk mine, pleading tiredness, but from curiosity, I took a cup from her tonight with thanks and sipped it. I wondered if it actually tasted different from the tea at the castle, or if that was my imagination. But while the duke discussed the formalities of tomorrow’s coronation and the important people to pick out for special attention at the subsequent reception, I steadily drank it down.
By the time Augusta retired and I made my way back to my own room, I realized I wasn’t being drugged here. Presumably because there was no point. There was no prisoner to disturb my sleep.
I thought they should probably drug Heribert instead. He seemed inclined to accompany me towards the stairs rather than go to his own room, until the duke’s sharp call drew him back. No wonder, I thought, that Leopold wanted a wife to give him a new heir. Heribert was no asset to his dynasty.
* * * * *
Augusta’s “coronation” brought guilt seeping and twisting through me. She thrived on the event, the pinnacle of her career. I thought there could be nothing better for her until she saw her son succeed, or married her daughter to a king. And I was working to take that from her. It was betrayal of a kind. And though her husband had no right either to the dukedom or to treat his nephew as he did, on a personal level, I was destroying my sister’s triumph, if not her life.
The religious acclaiming of the duchess took place in a magnificent medieval cathedral, witnessed by the great and the good of Silberwald, several German princes, and the representatives of many governments. The Bishop of Rundberg, an ancient gentleman with shaky hands, performed the ceremony and placed a jewelled coronet on Augusta’s proud head. After which we processed out of the cathedral to show her to her people.
Squashed somewhere behind the baroness and Hilde, I searched the standing congregation for anyone I knew. Near the back, Patrick Haggard scanned the procession, his face carefully expressionless, until his gaze found me. His lips twitched. I didn’t know if it was greeting or amusement. But I hoped he had something to tell me.
The duke and duchess returned to the palace in an open carriage, waving to the throng of people who paused to watch them. There were a few half-hearted cheers, but it wasn’t exactly the massive display of loyal affection shown to Queen Victoria.
I followed a few carriages behind with Leopold’s ancient aunt and the minister of the treasury, a self-important man with a splendid moustache and very little brain power, judging by his conversation. It struck me that Silberwald was being governed for the benefit of its duke, rather than the duke governing for the benefit of his people. But then, I was hardly at the centre of events. I wondered if Kasimir would really do things differently. Many people began with ideals that simply foundered against resistance or exhaustion…
At one point, between arriving at the palace and greeting guests at the reception, I briefly found myself alone with Augusta in her bedroom. She’d had her hair repinned and her dress straightened and was now resting a moment before her next duty. The baroness was consulting with the duke beyond the doors. I could hear the low murmur of their voices.
I gazed at Augusta, who sat in a winged arm chair, ramrod straight so as not to disturb her dress or her coiffure, but with her eyes closed.
“Augusta, do you like it here?” I asked suddenly. “Are you happy?”
“Of course,” she replied, opening her eyes to stare at me as if I’d grown horns.
“Because you are a duchess?”
She gave me a slightly cynical smile. “Because I am the duchess.”
“Then you don’t miss home?”
“No.” She closed her eyes again. Her mouth drooped suddenly. “I’d like them to know, to see.”
“You’ll always be the Duchess of Silberwald now,” I said. “Whatever happens, you’ve achieved that.”
Her lips straightened again into the smugness she’d adopted since her engagement. “Yes, I have, haven’t I?”
* * * * *
“So will you stay long in Silberwald?” Sir Aubrey Bennett, the British ambassador, asked me.
“No,” I said, with a twinge of pain. “I don’t think so. Have you been long in this post?”
“Several years, since the days of Duke Edward. Before the revolution.”
A quick glance around me confirmed a modicum of privacy, so I asked casually, “Did you know Duke Edward’s son, Prince Kasimir?”
“I met him a few times. He was a tragic loss to the country.”
“Then he wasn’t insane as rumour says?”
The ambassador shrugged. “He was perfectly rational when I met him. Rather charming, actually, in an eccentric kind of way. Had a curious way of thinking—and talking! —roaming off on all sorts of tangents, with odd flashes of brilliance, not to say genius. Did a lot of good things in the country while he was still very young, and I believe he gave his father some excellent advice on occasion. But apparently he just wasn’t stable, something inherited from his mother, sadly. And then to die so young…”
“Was there a funeral?” I asked.
The ambassador blinked at me. “Of course. Ah, here is my daughter, Helena. Helena, my dear, have you met Lady Guin, the duchess’s sister?”
Helena was pretty and vivacious, with a glint of mischief in her eyes as she smiled at me in friendly fashion. She hung on the arm of Patrick Haggard, whom the ambassador also presented. Neither of us admitted to previous acquaintance.
“Mr. Haggard is researching how things have changed in Silberwald since the revolution,” the ambassador told me.
“I’d be most interested to hear your conclusions,” I said to the journalist.
“You might not like them,” Helena warned me. “Patrick can be devastating, not to say brutal, and he’s a bit of a radical at heart.”
“Acquit me,” he said bluntly. “I write what I see. Lady Guin, may I escort you to the duchess?”
Although neither Augusta nor I had any desire to meet up at this stage, I accepted his offer. Helena didn’t look happy about it, though her father did. I gathered Patrick was probably too disreputable for marriage, and too dangerous for flirting.
“I’ve found your doctor,” he murmured.
“Oh excellent! Can you give me his address now?”
“No,” he said baldly. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I do know Caroline would tear me off a strip if I let you go visiting strange men in their rooms, especially unaccompanied, as I’m sure you would be.”
I took a deep breath, reminding myself that Caroline trusted him, despite the recent scandal. “You could come with me,” I offered.
“That would hardly help,” he said dryly.
“You don’t look as if you’re so stuffy.”
“You should try some stuffiness yourself,” he advised, apparently unconcerned by my insult. “In fact, why don’t you visit the Museum of Antiquities at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
I felt my face break into smiles. “Mr. Haggard, I take it all back. You are wonderful.”
“I’ll try not to let it go to my head. What exactly are you up to?”
“Nothing dangerous,” I assured him. “I’m just trying to help someone.”
His hard eyes seemed to pierce mine, as if they could thus see right into my brain.
“Very well,” he said abruptly, and passed me a card. “I’m staying here if you should need me.” And he walked away, leaving me holding his card. Since it was done so publicly and everyone knew his purpose in Silberwald, there could be no scandal attached to my casually tucking his card away in my reticule. Although I doubted Helena would like it.
I stopped in my tracks. When had I suddenly become a rival to any woman, let alone one of Helena Bennett’s undoubted charms? I must have misread her reactions; I was letting Augusta’s reflected glory turn my head.
* * * * *
At two o’clock precisely the following afternoon, I found Dr. Alcuin bent over a cabinet full of ancient treasures, enthusiastically expounding the theories of the French antiquarian Jacques Boucher de Perthes.
“…which is most exciting,” he was lecturing Patrick Haggard, “because it means that of course the earth is far older than the Bible suggests. If we would only use scientific evidence—”
“Dr. Alcuin, you’re preaching to the converted,” Mr. Haggard said impatiently.
“Forgive me, but to understand the sheer age of this implement…” Dr. Alcuin seemed to become aware that his companion’s attention was distracted, and turned to face me.
I saw a stocky, untidy man of middle years and bright, highly intelligent darting eyes.
Patrick Haggard said, “Lady Guinevere, allow me to present Dr. Alcuin.”
The doctor bowed. “Delighted, delighted, my lady. Have you seen these bones yet? They come from the same, unimaginably ancient era, the same, it seems, as those rudimentary tools.”
I moved forward to join him. Patrick, with unexpected delicacy, walked away to the next cabinet. Apart from us, the room was deserted.
Dr. Alcuin said, “I am overcome with curiosity, my lady. How did my poor name come to your attention? If your health is an issue…”
“No, no, my own health is perfect, thank you.”
“You look tired, a little pale,” he observed, peering up at me from his position leaning his elbows on the glass cabinet.
I swallowed a laugh. “I haven’t really slept well since I came to Silberwald. For one reason and another. But I am not ill. I need to speak to you about Prince Kasimir.”
His busy eyes widened in clear startlement; his elbows slid off the glass. “Prince Kasimir,” he repeated. “The prince was my patient. Although he’s dead, I cannot discuss him with you.”
“That’s all right,” I said hastily. “I won’t ask you to. I want you to visit him.”
“I do sometimes,” the doctor said sadly, his elbows and his gaze reverting to the cabinet. “I put flowers there sometimes. So does my wife.”
I took a deep breath. “I don’t mean his grave, Doctor. I mean his prison, in Silberwald Castle.”
His gaze lifted. His eyes held pity. “My good young lady, the prince died eight years ago. If someone told you otherwise, they are deceiving you. But it is a joke in poor taste.”
“You misunderstand. It was the prince himself who told me. I found him chained and imprisoned in an old part of the castle. His father and Duke Leopold conspired in the death story to divert attention from the madness story.”
“Nonsense.”
“Why do you think so? Did you see the body? Did you sign a certificate of death?”
“No, but—”
“Why not? He was your patient.”
“I was dismissed several months before his death,” Dr. Alcuin said.
“Why?” I asked again.
“The duke, Duke Edward, felt I was not helping the prince.”
“Were you?”
“I will not discuss his health with you,” Dr. Alcuin said with dignity.
“Very well, but do you not find it odd that he should ‘die’ so soon after you were removed for not treating him correctly? Who replaced you?”
“A Doctor Fierstein,” Alcuin said, sounding harassed. “My lady, why should you believe this person you found is Prince Kasimir? He
must be deluded. Either way, you are deceived.”
“He could be,” I allowed. “But I don’t believe he is. Apart from anything else, too much care has been taken to hide his presence. Would you just come to the castle and see for yourself? That’s all I ask.”
His bright eyes, glittering now with anxiety, searched mine.
“Alive,” he murmured. “Truly? Could it be so?”
“Yes,” I replied. “I really think it could. Please, Dr. Alcuin. His treatment is inhumane. And I’m terribly afraid the duke means to get rid of his danger once and for all.”
“Well, that’s one of the many things I don’t understand. I don’t like Leopold, but if he is such a villain, why did he not just murder his nephew in reality when he claimed the boy was dead?”
“Because Duke Edward was still alive, I suppose. He wanted Edward to imagine his son in good care and make Leopold himself his heir. And then the revolution happened and Edward died, and Leopold was handed the dukedom on a plate.”
“Leopold,” Alcuin murmured. “All things to all people, and yet there’s nothing there. A suit, as we say, full of bugger all.” He blinked. “Excuse my language, my lady. I seem to be upset.”
“Then you’ll come with me to the castle?”
The doctor stared into the cabinet for so long, I could almost have imagined he’d fallen asleep. Then, abruptly, he straightened.
“Good. I’ll come, and if this turns out to be true, then it had better come out sooner rather than later. Consequences, consequences… There must be no slips, no more war… Give me today to put certain things in motion. I leave tomorrow at first light.”
I beamed upon him. “I’ll come with you.”
“I’ll travel too fast, and we can’t risk a chaperone.”
“Your wife?” I suggested, inspired.
He scowled. “She hates travelling. On the other hand, she’s a most useful nurse. Will he need a nurse?”
“He’s been drugged every night, possibly with opium. He has nasty sores on his wrists from the manacles and possibly other injuries.”
The Prisoner of Silverwood Castle Page 11
