by May Burnett
The Komtesse was seated between James and old Gossing. Now, if she had turned out to be the Princess, he might be more willing to give the thing his best shot. She was only in her early twenties, judging by her youthful and flawless complexion, but she had the bearing and assurance of an older, more mature woman. He could still easily provoke her, and would probably do so on many occasions in the near future. Her blue eyes would flash at him again – he almost looked forward to that part. She was very handsome, closer to beautiful than pretty, with brown hair of a rich warm shade, and perfectly shaped lips.
Rook covertly glanced at the Princess. Her overbite was not that bad, really. But such features tended to recur in subsequent generations, like the famous Hapsburg lips. One more thing he had his father to thank for.
The meal finally came to an end, and he heard George and Gisela arrange that the Princess and he should take a turn in the rose gardens together, to get to know each other, with the Komtesse as translator and chaperon. Amberley and his Countess would be within sight, but out of hearing. Since Rook was supposed to be unable to understand French, he had to listen to the proposal again in English, before bowing his acquiescence.
It was a perfect summer day, and the Amberley gardens were at their best. As they were about to step outdoors, the Princess’s hand already on his right arm, he offered his other arm to the Komtesse, who shook her head and took a step backwards, even as the Princess uttered a short protest.
Anna walked at his left side, not touching. “Lord Molyneux, it is not done to offer your arm to any lady of lesser rank, when you are escorting Her Royal Highness. Certainly not without her explicit approval.”
He waited till they had drawn safely ahead of the Amberleys, following in their wake. “Miss Rosenfels, please explain to the Princess that if we are to marry, I expect to be master in my home, and in my marriage. I am certainly not willing to follow whatever ridiculous royal etiquette she considers suitable for the rest of my life, at least while we are in private.” He had deliberately left the “von” out of her last name, so it sounded like that of a mere commoner.
“I see.” The girl looked across him, at the Princess, and said in German, “The Marquess humbly begs your pardon for his mistake. It will take him some time to get used to the proper protocol.”
It took all his acting ability not to betray his annoyance.
“Tell the Marquess that I understand, and will try to be patient with him,” the Princess instructed, in a kindly condescending tone. Anna said, “The Princess will take your words under consideration.”
Rook was reminded of the Italian saying ‘traductore, tradittore’ –‘translator, traitor.’ This was the perfect instance. What a piece of work that innocent-looking Komtesse had turned out to be.
He made one more attempt at confrontation. “Princess Gisela, would you please tell me why you agreed to this match, so likely to result in unhappiness for both of us? My rank is not equal to yours, after all.”
“The Marquess is greatly honoured to be betrothed to a lady of your high rank,” the young translator said to the princess, without batting an eyelash.
“As he should be,” Gisela said sourly. Anna translated it as “Thank you, Sir.” Rook came close to gnashing his teeth.
Since he could not have any frank talk with his betrothed under these circumstances, he settled for baiting the Komtesse instead, testing her ingenuity and composure with ever more outrageous and provocative statements. He had to admire her deftness in maintaining the pretence of a civilised conversation between the Princess and him. The Princess was perfectly willing to talk about herself, the subject in which Anna pretended he was interested. Gisela never made the slightest push to discover anything about his own opinions, tastes, and personality, completely unlike the myriad young ladies who had flattered him ever since he first came upon the town. A husband, from what he could tell, was merely an inconvenient necessity for the Princess, something she would bear with as much grace as she could muster, but without even a scintilla of interest or enthusiasm.
Finally she said she wanted to write letters, and signalled to the Amberleys, who stood in the middle distance, looking at their roses. They immediately approached to escort the Princess indoors. The Komtesse remained behind, staring at him with open hostility, in striking contrast to her polite reserve while her mistress had been present.
“How dare you!” Her voice vibrated with anger.
Rook shrugged with affected nonchalance. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Oh, no? I have never in my life met such an ungentlemanly, selfish cad as you, milord. It was all I could do to keep you from hurting the Princess’s feelings. If you had come all the way from Germany to this remote place to meet a fiancé you never met before, would you want to hear him threaten, insult, and generally belittle yourself? She is already in a difficult enough position, and you have no right to make it even harder for her! Have you no better feelings at all?”
Rook felt as though clouted over the head. She was magnificent in her anger, but she had clearly got hold of the wrong end of the stick. Her reproaches might be justified in an abstract sense, but he was fighting for the rest of his life here. With as much restraint as he could muster, he asked, “How is her position difficult, pray? Please enlighten me.”
“Were you not told anything about her history? Why the Prince consented to give her to you?”
“Please go on.”
She was walking with fast steps along the flowerbeds, and he walked by her side, knowing better now than to offer his arm.
“Princess Gisela, during her youth, had every expectation of a suitable and happy union,” Anna said, in a more moderate tone. “In fact she was the envy of her sisters in that her fiancé at the time, a Russian Great Duke and second cousin of the Czar, actually spent a year in Obernberg during their engagement. He spoke perfect French, and even learned German during his stay. The local papers described it sentimentally as a romance among royals, and all seemed set for a happy union.”
“What happened?” Dammit, somebody ought to have briefed him on these details before this. He looked like an idiot, not to know the first thing about his own betrothed.
“Grand-Duke Nicholas was a general in the Russian Army, and fought bravely against Napoleon during the ill-fated invasion of Russia. The Princess was greatly worried about his survival, and expected his rare letters with great anxiety. Due to the war, the engagement went on longer than expected, and she was well in her twenties when Napoleon was finally banished to Elba and the Congress of Vienna began. Gisela was there, in Vienna, and her betrothed was present as well, as a member of the Czar’s delegation. Pending some final details of the settlements, the marriage was expected to be celebrated within weeks.”
If only it had. “What happened to prevent it?”
“Your country’s government convinced the Prince of Obernberg to side with them on some contentious border issue, against the Czar’s interests. Alexander was so incensed that he ordered the engagement broken off, and married Nicholas to a widowed Sicilian Princess right there in Vienna. The British delegation promised the Prince an English Royal in compensation. He tried to tie them down regarding name and date, but they cited the need to consult the Royal Family, and time passed … and passed.”
“Could not her father arrange some other match for her in the meantime?”
“He made the mistake – as it turned out – of trusting your Government. Lord Castlereagh himself had given him his word. When Princess Charlotte died and several matches were arranged between the British Royal family and German princesses, Obernberg confidently expected Princess Gisela to come into her own at last. Instead she was inexplicably passed over. Year after year went by, and the British pretended not to remember their promise. Well, do the arithmetic yourself: when the promise was made in 1815 the Princess was already twenty-six, thanks to the war, and now we have 1823. She is still unmarried due to the perfidious behaviour of your country
’s government and diplomats, and is increasingly pitied by her sisters and peers. And after all that, when she has swallowed the bitter pill of having to marry outside her own rank, out of her rigid sense of duty to her Father, now she is to suffer from your tantrums and immature rebellion? I will do my best to protect her, milord, because she certainly does not deserve this.”
“I did not realise…” Rook did not know what to say. This way of looking at the matter was as alien as it was unpalatable. “I agree that by your account, the Princess has been treated most shabbily. But please note that she has not suffered this long delay because of anything I did or did not do. I had nothing to do with that saga of bungling and broken promises.”
“As long as the Princess is your betrothed, you owe her courtesy and respect, Lord Molyneux. I am very sorry to have to say this – it would not be necessary, were your character and upbringing equal to the attractive exterior.”
The set-down was the most cutting Rook had experienced in his memory. He gasped for air. “But-but the whole engagement is a mistake. The Princess will not be any happier than I if it goes forward.”
“What do you mean, if? Are you planning to jilt the Princess?” The Komtesse regarded him with a mixture of alarm and contempt. “Surely you, as the man, could have said no when the match was proposed. The Princess had no such choice. She is acting from duty, and expects the same from you.”
Rook could not bring himself to tell the pretty shrew that he had not been consulted either. He felt reluctant sympathy for the Princess, but not a whit more desire to wed her than before. Gisela was so very bland and boring – compared to this passionate termagant, just to take one example.
“I will consider your words,” he said, bowed to the girl, and left.
This called for a fast ride cross-country, to clear his head, and reconsider his strategy.
What a coil!
Chapter 10
She had not been diplomatic, but Anna could not regret it. That arrogant boor! Clearly no one had ever schooled him in the behaviour due a Princess – due any lady, when you got right down to it. The memory of Rudolf flashed for a moment before her eyes. He might cavort with opera singers, but he would never be so openly discourteous to a Princess or lady, as Molyneux had been – or tried to be, for she had stymied him, hadn’t she? What a Godsend that he spoke no French or German.
She could not remember ever speaking so cuttingly to any gentleman, certainly not to Rudolf, even that time he had arrived late and drunk when he was supposed to escort her to Court. She had not known it was in her, but then no other man in her memory had ever made her this angry. And it did not matter, as she would depart England within a few weeks, and probably never return to its shores. A pity in a way … she liked travel, and in all probability Rudolf would never be posted in any other place than the capital of Obernberg. Maybe she could persuade him to travel when he retired, but that was decades in the future. Who knew if they would even live so long?
Anna had better enjoy the beautiful lake region now she was here. Could she persuade the Princess to go on outings, do some exploration? It had to be preferable to stalking about a garden making stiff conversation with Lord Molyneux.
Would her reproaches cause the man to behave better? Anna would have liked to believe it, but did not fool herself: self-centred men rarely took the moral judgement of a mere female seriously, especially one they had only just met. If the Marquess’s conscience and upbringing were defective, at his age there was little chance that she could improve him. He was five years older than she, and most likely irredeemable. But she could at least try.
When she joined the Princess in her suite, Gisela’s petulant tone reminded her that every issue had two sides. “Where have you been, Komtesse?”
“I beg your pardon, but it seemed best to give the Marquess a few hints on protocol, since he does not seem to have much experience with ladies of your exalted rank.”
“Let’s hope your advice falls on fertile ground.” As expected, her excuse – truthful enough, really – mollified the princess. “It is very vexing that he does not speak any of my own languages. Yet he does not appear deficient in understanding or sensibility, I thought.”
Anna chose not to comment on this observation. “The weather being so sunny, Your Royal Highness, which in England can never be taken for granted, it might be pleasant to undertake some excursion to the nearby lakes. A carriage ride in the open air would offer another good occasion to further your acquaintance.”
“See a bit more of the countryside here, you mean?” Gisela thought it over and nodded. “Find out if there are interesting places at an easy distance – not more than two hours one way, mind – and make the arrangements.”
To Anna’s relief, she was excused for the rest of the afternoon, since the Princess had letters to write. She was to come for her before dinner. With a curtsy, she fled to the peace of her own room, noticing only now that it had twice the usual complement of fresh flowers. Clearly those intended for Gisela had simply been moved into her own quarters. She sniffed at a half-open pink rose, enjoying the delicate perfume. Unfortunately it reminded her yet again of the scene in the rose garden. Had she gone too far, to scold the Princess’s betrothed like that? Would he complain about her? Well, let him. If the Foreign Office found some older lady to relieve her of her duties, Anna would not repine. It was not as though she received any remuneration for her efforts. The honour of rendering a service to her Prince was considered more than enough recompense. The Austrian Ambassadress would surely house her again, till she found a respectable companion for the return trip – as she had to do in any case, once the Princess and the Marquess married. The thought of those two all alone, without a buffer to change the meaning of hurtful words, made her shudder – but it would not be her problem any longer.
Her maid came in with the freshly pressed gown Anna would wear that evening. For the first dinner in Amberley she had chosen a deep blue silk that would not clash with the Princess’s dark red. It was wonderful that fashion allowed more vivid hues these days; only a few years ago Anna had been restricted to the lightest colours, which she could wear well, but found boring.
“Gnädiges Fräulein,” Rosalie curtseyed, holding the garment higher so it would not be creased. “I have heard things among the servants that you need to know.”
“Hang up the dress and tell me all.” Anna had taken Rosalie from Obernberg because the woman was experienced and reliable; she had been in England with her family, and knew the language well. It was always useful for a diplomat to have a spy below stairs.
“Just as we discussed, Ma’am, I pretended that like the Princess’s two maids, I only spoke German and French. These English servants love to gossip about their masters, and spoke quite openly in front of us.” She sniffed in condemnation. “Of course it all passed over the heads of the Princess’s maids, and these English derived no little amusement from that fact. It was all I could do to keep silent and look stupid.”
“But what did you discover? What are they saying about the Marquess, and the match with Princess Gisela?”
“The match is not popular, I am sorry to say. There were comparisons made to King George and Caroline of Brunswick. The young Marquis is very well regarded, because he is open-handed and generous with his money. Ma’am, it seems he only learned of his own betrothal from the newspaper, quite recently. One of the footmen, Andrew, described the scene and said that at first milord wanted to laugh it off as a mistake. Immediately after that, he learned the truth from a letter by his father, and according to Andrew, ‘turned chalk-white and sick as though he’d swallowed something vile.’ Everyone agrees that the engagement came as a nasty shock to the young man. In fact, until that moment Lady Ariadne, Lady Chloe, and that Miss Prentice had all vied for his favour. There is a betting pool in the servants’ hall, organised by the butler, which lady would win his hand. Nearly all staff members have participated in this pool, and they are angry that Princess Gisela came out
of nowhere, a dark horse, as it were. The terms of the pool have been changed now: the betting is whether the Marquess will go through with the betrothal and actually marry our Princess. The odds are about even.”
Anna was glad to be sitting down, at this disastrous news. “That is terrible, - but how could the Marquess not go through with it, if the papers are signed and sealed? Surely even he could not be so lost to family honour and duty?”
“As to that, I have heard there is some doubt about the legality of his father’s signing as his proxy, without the knowledge and consent of his son, since the Marquess is of age. He could conceivably repudiate the betrothal on those grounds, and though it would mean a rupture with his father the duke, most of the staff here in Amberley would understand and support him.”
“If that is how the staff feels, then it is only reasonable to suppose their masters and mistresses agree.” Anna’s mind was racing. Her mission had just turned from tedious and tricky to extremely difficult. “Thank you for your report, Rosalie, it is most useful. My father always says that nothing is more fatal for a diplomat than to go into a situation with inaccurate knowledge, and be blindsided by facts of which you were unaware.” Which had already happened here – but she would yet come about.
