by May Burnett
“There is one more thing,” Rosalie added, “according to what I heard, the Marquess used to speak fluent French, until he first heard about this betrothal.”
“What! The cad!”
“It’s only what I have just been doing myself at your orders,” Rosalie pointed out. “The way his servants spoke of the young man, it would not do to underestimate him. He is said to be clever and tricky, when cornered.”
“I see.”
“Miss Prentice’s maid was extremely bitter about the Princess coming here and ‘breaking her young lady’s heart.’ It would seem that the girl is deeply in love with Lord Molyneux. She is only eighteen.”
“I haven’t met the Prentice family yet, they were out the whole day.” That was probably for the best under the circumstances. “Let’s hope the Princess is not bothered by all these crosscurrents. Have you discussed your discoveries with the Princess’s maids?”
“No, and I will not do so unless you think it advisable.”
“Don’t tell them anything, except that the match is not universally popular,” Anna ordered. “I shall have to think how much of this intelligence should be divulged to the Princess. It is likely to wound her feelings, I fear.”
“If she has any,” Rosalie muttered under her breath. She was no great admirer of Princess Gisela. Anna even suspected her of harbouring republican sentiments, though of course she would never voice them to her mistress. Since she had just proved her worth, Anna did not reprimand Rosalie for her disrespectful remark, as she normally would have, before dismissing her. She needed to think.
Knowing what she now did, had she blundered in her reproaches to the young Marquess? Anna had assumed that he had at least consented to the match, for whatever reward his family had negotiated with their own government. Even she had been consulted on her betrothal to Rudolf, although she had been only twenty at the time, legally not yet of age. No wonder Lord Molyneux was resentful, if he had not got any say about a matter touching his own future. In respect of age, interests, appearance, and nationality, Gisela and he were certainly an ill-assorted pair. His bad manners were still inexcusable in a gentleman, but Anna was conscious of a tiny, unwelcome spark of sympathy for the predicament in which he had been placed.
Still, he was her antagonist until he and Gisela were safely married. That he pretended not to know French proved that he was unreconciled to the match. Most likely he was biding his time, to see what his intended bride was like, before making a decision one way or the other. A good thing that she and the Princess had spoken German rather than French, during the walk in the rose garden.
The negotiations about the match had gone on for two months before the papers were signed. What kind of father must this Duke be, not to inform his heir of what he was doing in all that time? Even in Germany, where family duty was upheld more rigidly, it would be unusual. Daughters might be surprised with a match all arranged, as the Princess had been, but an eldest son? She regretted now that she had not had occasion to meet the Duke of Ottway during their stay in London. Indeed, why had the man not paid a call on his future daughter-in-law while they were staying in the Austrian Embassy? It was a warning sign that something was amiss, that she should have noted much earlier. Anna sighed. She had much to learn if she wanted to become half as good at diplomacy as her father. And would she even have the chance to use her talents as Rudolf’s wife?
But that was the future, she could not think of that now. She had a Princess and a recalcitrant Marquess to manage and guide towards marriage, willy-nilly.
Little wonder the more experienced ladies of the Obernberg court had all been unavailable. After she had seen Gisela married, Anna too would take care to avoid such thankless tasks before she could be saddled with them.
Chapter 11
Anna stood talking with Lord Amberley’s sister, Lady Minerva, who was younger than she, but already married and the proud mother of a son.
The whole party at Amberley had assembled in the Green Salon, waiting for dinner to be called. It was an elegant room of graceful proportions, furnished with silk wallpaper and modern Sheraton furniture. Various small statues had been substituted where surely vases were placed in more ordinary times.
“That shade of blue is most becoming,” Lady Minerva said. “Did you buy your gown in Paris?”
“The pattern certainly came from there, but it was copied by my own seamstress in Obernberg.” Anna did not have to ask where Lady Minerva’s dress came from. There was something indefinably English about it, though it was becoming enough, and set off the young woman’s abundant chestnut hair, piled in a graceful arrangement on her head. Why had a lady this attractive and well-born found nobody better than a common politician to marry?
“I believe I have met everyone but the Prentice family,” Anna said, looking around the small group, but there was no one she had not met. “They are the only untitled guests at the moment, I believe?”
“Besides my husband, and my brother James is a mere Honourable.” Lady Minerva grinned. “It does not mean as much as you may think. Miss Prentice is the granddaughter of a Viscount, and has a large dowry. She is just as eligible as most of us who can style ourselves Lady First-name. Not all ladies and gentlemen have titles.”
“It is easier to tell in German, where the well-born have the ‘von’ suffix in their name,” Anna agreed. “Though there are great differences of degree even then.”
“For instance, between a Princess with royal blood, and a mere aristocrat like you or I.” Lady Minerva smiled guilelessly. “Are you in favour of such unequal matches?”
“There have been precedents,” Anna said, a little stiffly. “It is not for me to approve or disapprove of what my country’s sovereign decides.”
“Not in the specific case, maybe, but in general – if it concerned some other country’s nobility and ruling house? Surely even in your country, you are allowed to think and reason and have opinions?”
Anna was about to retort with some little barb of her own, but thought better of it. “You will find no shortage of thought and opinions in German-speaking countries, Lady Minerva.” Out of the corner of her eyes she observed the Princess converse sedately with her betrothed, Lord Amberley translating her French and the latter’s English. Molyneux looked bored. What were they saying to each other? She should be there to keep an eye on the Marquess, instead of wasting her time conversing with Lady Minerva.
Just as she was about to excuse herself, an elderly couple and a very pretty, slim girl with large brown eyes entered the salon. She had to be Miss Prentice, supposedly in love with the Marquess. The newcomers approached Amberley for an introduction to the Princess. Anna drew closer, listening, followed by Lady Minerva.
Her parents and Miss Prentice were duly presented to Gisela by Lord Amberley. When he told them, in English, “The Princess of Obernberg is Lord Molyneux’s betrothed,” the girl violently shook her head. Various guests looked over at the vehement movement.
“That cannot be,” Miss Prentice said in a carrying voice. “Lord Molyneux is my husband. How can he be betrothed to this foreigner?”
A scandalized silence was broken by Mrs. Prentice. “Louisa! Are you out of your senses?”
“Qu’est-ce qu’elle a dit?” The Princess enquired of Lord Amberley, brows raised, and looking down her nose at the ill-bred girl, despite being almost a head shorter. Hearing the question, Miss Prentice replied, in careful schoolgirl French, “Lord Molyneux est mon mari!”
Princess Gisela frowned and pursed her lips.
“Your husband?” Lord Amberley looked at the girl quizzically. “That would indeed be sensational news. When and how did this happen? Do you have your marriage lines?”
“Louisa, what are you saying?” Mr. Prentice was aghast.
“We married in London, last month.” Louisa Prentice was very pale, yet held her back straight and her head high. “It is a love match, and we kept it secret until now. But I cannot allow this woman to claim the man who is al
ready mine.”
Every eye turned to Lord Molyneux, who had been regarding Miss Prentice with an inscrutable look on his face.
“Rook?” Lord Amberley asked.
“Miss Prentice,” the Marquess said to the girl, almost gently, in his deep voice, “had I the felicity of being your husband, I would never hide the fact. The wedding would have been touted in the papers, and duly celebrated in the presence of your parents and both families. Though I thank you for what I believe you are trying to do, I cannot accept such a sacrifice.”
Louisa Prentice stared at him, her brown eyes bigger than ever. At his denial of her claim, she broke down in noisy weeping and, amidst her copious tears and loud gulps, was quickly led away by her horrified and humiliated parents. All other guests averted their eyes from the spectacle. How a girl could ruin herself so wilfully defied Anna’s understanding.
The Princess gestured to Anna, who slipped to her side. “Just what is going on?” she asked in German. “Is the young girl crazy?”
“As you heard, Miss Prentice, who is known to be in love with Lord Molyneux, claimed he was already secretly married to her, but he immediately denied it.”
Gisela frowned. “A mere commoner? Who would believe such an unlikely story?”
“It is not inherently impossible, Your Royal Highness, though I believe the girl was just indulging in wishful thinking.”
“I hope this is not going to become a common occurrence,” Gisela observed with displeasure.
So did Anna. Apparently the young man of the foreign office had not exaggerated when he touted Lord Molyneux’s irresistible effect on females. She glanced at Lady Chloe and Lady Ariadne, tittering behind their fans.
“The news that the man she loved was engaged to another must have overcome the girl’s senses. Once you are married, other women won’t be able to entertain any such false hopes.” Of course, there were all kinds of other things women could get up to with a man as virile and attractive as Lord Molyneux. Judging by the two vertical lines over the Princess’s nose, she was likely thinking along similar lines.
“I am very sorry that your first day here in Amberley should have been disturbed by such an unexpected scene,” Lord Amberley said to the Princess in French. “The young can be so passionately foolish. For what it’s worth, I never believed her claim for a moment.”
“It is already forgotten,” Gisela said graciously. Just then the dinner was announced, and Lord Amberley offered his arm to lead her to the place of honour.
Anna saw that the seating order had been arranged differently since lunch, the guest of honour placed in the middle of the long table, opposite her host. Possibly the earl had tired of being called upon as translator, when he must have known it was unnecessary in the first place. Gisela was now flanked by Lord Pell, on her right, and Lord Molyneux on her left. The Prentices’ covers had already been removed, and the table ends left empty.
“What an unfortunate scene just now,” her neighbour Mr. Beecham said to her. “I do hope it will not give your Princess the idea that Lord Molyneux has played with the girl’s affections. From what I could observe, he never gave her the slightest encouragement.”
“Most ladies are very forgiving of what goes on before the actual marriage.” They had to be, or few men would find spouses at all. She herself was close to choking on all the things she was expected to forgive Rudolf.
“Lord Molyneux is a good man,” Beecham pursued his theme, “though I am not sure that an arranged marriage like this, quite unexpectedly, is the best thing for him. Whatever happens, I wish your Princess and him very happy.” He sounded sincere enough, if doubtful of that happiness he evoked. Anna herself had trouble foreseeing much happiness in store for either Gisela or her bridegroom.
***
Further up the table, Rook listened to Pell converse with the Princess. His French was not quite as fluent as Lord Amberley’s, but the young Marquess was doing his best.
“I am sorry to say I encountered a canine on my way here,” the Princess said in a tone of deep complaint. “Could you mention it to our hostess? It was only a small one, black and white, but I particularly dislike animals in the house.”
“That would be my niece Verena’s King Charles spaniel,” Pell said. He did not know the French for spaniel, so used the English word. “Verena, my sister’s oldest child, is a very important person in Amberley, and she is devoted to her little dog. Nobody would dream of banishing it.”
Rook nearly laughed at the offended expression on Princess Gisela’s face. “The dog belongs to a child?”
“To the daughter of the house,” Lord Pell said. “I will suggest to my sister that it be confined to the nursery and gardens while you are here, but I cannot guarantee that it may not slip out every now and then. To do its business, you know. Why do you dislike them so?”
“My reasons are my own. I am not in the habit of giving explanations.” Clearly Gisela was still miffed at the earlier rebuff.
“Well, you had better get used to them,” Lord Pell said cheerfully, “because Rook, your betrothed, has a dog who follows him all over the place when he’s at home. A big brute too.”
“Indeed?” Gisela’s voice was cool. Rook felt her gaze on his face, and met her eyes blandly. Behind the Princess’s shoulder, Anthony winked at him.
“Yes, Lord Molyneux is fond of all kinds of animals,” Pell went on, affecting not to notice the Princess’s displeasure. “He spends more than half the day on horseback when at home, and is very involved in the horse breeding they do at the family stud. He helps break in the colts.”
“That is a menial job,” the Princess said. “What do we have grooms and stable hands for?”
“He does it because he likes it, I assume,” Pell said, adding in English, “Isn’t that right, Rook?”
“Sorry, I didn’t follow all that fast French,” Rook lied. Pell shook his head at him.
“Will the Prentice family leave Amberley, after their girl made such a fool of herself?” the Princess asked Pell. It was not an unreasonable question. Rook had been horrified when Louisa had claimed they were secretly married. A loveless match with the Princess was still preferable to marrying a brainless ninny who was capable of enacting such a scene as that.
Or was it? He glanced at the Princess, noted the prim set of her mouth, emphasizing that overbite. She was so terribly dull, so concerned with protocol and her various aversions, that he could not bring himself to like her, even now the Komtesse had made him understand that his betrothed was a fellow victim of their fathers’ machinations.
He would not give up – there had to be some escape hatch, some loophole that allowed him to prevent this marriage, without heaping further humiliation on Gisela. Clearly she had to be the one to jilt him, to decide that he was not good enough.
Would she, though? From everything he had ever heard, these German women were trained to put duty above all. Was there a way to make marriage to him conflict with some other, higher duty?
“You are very silent,” Lady Gossing said at his other side. “I daresay you have much to reflect about.”
“Just so, Ma’am.”
“I was friends with your mother, you know,” she said, “we came out the same year. She would want you to be happy in your choice, I am sure.”
“I wish she were still alive, to advise me,” Rook admitted. “She had a great deal of common sense.”
“Well, you are her son, and must have inherited some of it. I trust you will find your way, whatever you decide to do.”
“Thank you, Lady Gossing.” He continued eating automatically. Did Lady Gossing imply that she expected him to do something other than meekly go ahead with the match? To defy his father? It would cause a terrible scandal. He would be cut off from the family funds, but that was survivable. With his expectations he would always have plenty of credit, though the prospect of getting embroiled with money-lenders was loathsome. The story about Princess Gisela’s repeated disappointments tied his hands e
ven more securely than the natural respect for the head of his family.
Yet should respect be only one-sided? The devious way his father had made this arrangement, without saying a word to him while they were both in London recently, was a breach of faith he would not easily be able to forgive.
Chapter 12
Dinner was over at last. It had been followed by a couple of lacklustre musical performances from Lady Ariadne and Lady Chloe. After the Princess and Komtesse had retired early, the others played some rubbers of whist.
After that, the host’s family and Rook reconvened in the Amberleys’ private sitting room for a council of war. Rook looked around at the faces of his friends. Even if he had to marry that German Princess, at least he had friends to support him – though could he continue to visit them, with a wife whose unreasonable demands drove her hostess to distraction?
“You simply cannot marry the woman, Rook,” Anthony said. “Here, have some brandy. You look like you need it – I certainly do. I thought that dinner would never end. To spend a lifetime apologizing for your dogs and hiding the flower arrangements strikes me as too high a price for a royal pedigree.”
“I don’t give a damn about the royal pedigree,” Rook said – “begging your pardon, ladies. I am sorry if I offended your tender sensibilities.”
“That’s all right, we make allowances for your difficult situation,” Minerva said, grinning.
Rook echoed her grin, if more faintly “It’s your fault, you know, Minerva, for rejecting my proposal last year.”
“Sorry – even had I known into what difficulties you would be thrown, I still believe I made the right choice.” Minerva smiled at her husband. “I’m more worried about poor Louisa just now. Of course nobody believed for a moment that you could be secretly married. It is not your style and would be quite unnecessary, as she’s perfectly eligible.”
