The King's Doll

by Elizabeth Chater

  Of course King George would never agree to help this French nobleman, even in the unlikely contingency that the Old Man would agree to see him. The King was suffering another of his “nervous attacks” and his physicians would protect him, even if he didn't protect himself. Sir Hilary had been right, the Prince decided. He'd told Pitt that the Bourbons were a lost cause and a very dangerous one for the House of Hanover to espouse at this time. Good man, Sir Hilary! thought the Prince. I am sorry we shall be losing his clever brain and high courage and sharp wits as an intelligence for our government. It was a good thing Pitt had a stable of spirited young stallions willing to take on these clandestine adventures for love of their country!

  Having arranged matters thus neatly in his mind, Prinny roused himself to attend to the Countess and her London hosts. Luckily, Lady Letitia had been prosing on while these important plans had been racing through his head. Most fortunately, the Prince heard her ask, just at the moment when his attention had returned to her, “I do hope Your Highness agrees with me?"

  “But of course, my dear lady!” Prinny gave his graceful bow. “Shall we return to our seats now? The musicians are waiting for our arrival to begin the second half of the concert.” He offered one arm to Dani and the other to the immensely flattered Duchess, and they strolled back into the elaborately decorated salon. The Duke followed with Tiri on his arm.

  If Dani seemed subdued, thought the Prince, it was surely quite natural after the vicious snub she had received. Since he really loved music and did not wish to talk during a performance, the Prince limited his campaign to holding Dani's hand, and when the music became particularly moving, he would place her hand upon his thigh and press it there.

  Dani, who was still recovering from her shock at encountering Sir Hilary in such exalted company, and moreover, at hearing him addressed as McGregor, had had very little thought to spare for either the chilling rudeness of the Marquis or the too-urgent attentions of the heir to the throne. What was Sir Hilary doing, accompanying de Bayard to Carlton House? A Sir Hilary obviously persona grata with the Prince of Wales? Her brain was in such a whirl that when Prinny pressed her hand quite hard against his leg, she glanced up at him through dazed blue eyes and smiled sweetly.

  Thus encouraged, the Prince began to consider ways and means. Having, as he imagined, achieved his first objective, he released the lady's hand—to her relief—and presented his most decorous front to the prying eyes of his subjects.

  Seated at a little distance from the Prince, Sir Hilary wracked his brains for a way to escape the highnosed Frenchman and get to Dani before Prinny had managed to compromise her utterly. The little idiot! Why was she favoring the royal oaf with her sweet smiles? Did she not know how dangerous are the favors of Princes? He had to get her away before she did something that would wreck everyone's chances. Conveniently forgetting—or disregarding for the moment—his own culpability in intention and action toward her, he permitted himself to fantasize their next private encounter.

  For Tiri, the world could hold no greater joy than she felt at this moment, seated so close to her beloved. The room contained at least twice as many guests as it could comfortably hold, which had necessitated jamming in as many small chairs as possible, with the result that men and women felt themselves almost thrust into one another's laps. Tiri loved it, when the lap was Daral's. She raised wide, worshipful eyes to his. The young Duke caught his breath.

  “Don't, Tiri,” he muttered anxiously, for he could see, if the girl could not, the prying, avid, or jealous glances being cast their way.

  “Don't?” she asked, feeling her emotion rejected.

  “Don't look at me like that,” Daral explained in a low voice. “People will think—” He broke off; he was unwilling to be the cause of the unhappiness so clearly revealed on the small, lovely countenance. “Wait until later,” he promised recklessly. “When we are private."

  “Oh!” Tiri cast an apologetic glance around her. “I see!” The joy flooded back into her face so visibly that the Duke was forced to stifle the urge to sweep her up and out of this hothouse this very instant. Instead, he pressed her hand significantly. Tiri pressed back.

  CHAPTER 14

  “I thought the damn concert would never end!” said the Duke, as his party bowled away from Carlton House an eon later.

  His mother peered at him through the gloom of the coach. “I thought it was a splendid evening,” she said; she was still glowing from the courtesy the Prince had shown her and the distinguishing notice he gave their whole party. “Splendid!” she said again, firmly, as though to convince a child.

  Tiri giggled. “He is really an overwhelming figure, is he not, your Prince? Handsome and charming! But someday soon he will be grossly fat if he continues to eat and drink as he did tonight!"

  “That was nothing,” said the Duke grimly. “A mere series of tidbits! You should see him at a banquet! One cannot believe that one stomach can hold all he stuffs into his!"

  “Daral!” rebuked his mama, in repressive accents. “He is your Prince!"

  “Well, I don't have to be loyal to his stomach, thank God!” intoned the Duke piously, elated to observe that Tiri was shaking with laughter.

  The only member of the party who had nothing to say about their evening was Dani. She did not appear unhappy. Her lovely face was set in an expression of meditation—as though she were recalling the events of the evening without particular emotion. Tiri, finally glancing away from Daral long enough to share her mother's pleasure in her obvious triumph—for had not the Prince taken her in to the concert, and then later fetched her a glass of liqueur with his own hands?—was first surprised and then worried by the look of calm contemplation upon Dani's face.

  When Maman put on that look, she was considering serious matters. It was the very expression she had worn before she announced that they were to leave Paris. Tiri knew better than to question her mother in front of other people. She reluctantly abandoned her tentative scheme to try for a few moments alone with the Duke before he left them and determined to discover her maman's trouble as soon as they were alone.

  Then it hit Tiri. Of course! It was Sir Hilary's unexpected appearance at the soirée, and in such exalted company, which had brought that look to her mother's face! How could she have been so selfish, so blind, as to overlook the effect Sir Hilary's sudden return into their lives would have upon Dani, who loved him? Tiri shook her head and chastised her own obtuseness. Here she was daring to hope for happiness with the Duke, while poor little Maman must be racked with anxiety and fear at the odd actions of her chosen love! The girl resolved to attend upon her poor mother with all the love and tenderness possible, and to help her in this difficult hour.

  The Duke was surprised and puzzled by the ease with which he was shuffled off when he deposited the ladies at his mother's door. Of course their thanks were fulsome, their smiles affectionate—even Mama's— and their invitation for him to call upon them early the following morning flatteringly urgent. But Tiri, that little devil, had somehow become remote and cool toward him. Women! he thought grimly. Although his experience was fairly limited for a man of his class and day, he knew enough about women to think that he recognized dismissal when he found it. Where was the laughing little charmer who had been staring up at him so adoringly at the concert that her open admiration had attracted attention? Had his quiet and temperate warning offended her? He did not think so of his Tiri. Then was this some feminine game to entice him? That idea was easier to bear. Setting his jaw rather grimly, he dismissed his worried coachman, grooms and outriders in front of his mother's house and told them he would walk home.

  “I need the exercise, damn it!” he said, cutting off Tom Coachman's dire warnings of footpads and other ugly customers. “I'll walk!"

  It did not sweeten his temper one iota to perceive, after the first few angry moments, that his coach was following him at a discreet distance.

  CHAPTER 15

  Unfortunately for her loving pl
ans, Tiri was quite unable to penetrate her maman's reserve when finally, having seen the exhilarated and grateful Lady Letitia into her dresser's hands, they attained the privacy of their suite.

  In fact, her maman's first words were in the nature of a warning to Tiri. “I know your open nature, my little one, but you must begin to learn to dissemble—to hide your feelings while you are under public scrutiny,” she began before Tiri could get her own campaign going. Dani went on gently, “I noticed the—the admiration that your countenance was expressing for the Duke during the concert, chérie. It is to be hoped that others who noticed will attribute your enthusiasm to the music, rather than His Grace."

  “He told me I was not enough restrained,” the girl admitted, unable to meet her maman's eyes. “He said we would be private later."

  Dani's eyebrows lifted. “Indeed? Yet, after de Bayard's exhibition tonight, he must know that you are not a suitable parti." She studied the girl's stricken expression, her own face full of regret. “I have made a great bouleversement of our lives, my poor baby! I hope you may someday be able to forgive me!” She exhaled. “I saw tonight, when Sir Hilary turned up under the Prince's auspices, why he had broken off so sharply with me. I am not enough respectable."

  “I still believe he loves you!” cried Tiri, unable to bear the look of quiet grief in her mother's eyes.

  Dani gave a Gallic shrug. “Perhaps he does, poor man! It cannot be easy to find oneself in love with such as I! But you see he can do nothing about it. Nor may I, if I care for him. He is probably one of the Prince's equerries, on private service, or perhaps one of Mr. Pitt's daring spies...” She tried to smile. “Who knows?"

  “But in such case,” objected Tiri, “if he were a spy, I mean, why could you not marry?"

  “What would become of you, my pet, and of your dreams for a respectable marriage, if your notorious Maman ran off with a spy?"

  Tiri considered the situation with a sinking heart. It was clear to her that she must abandon all foolish dreams concerning the Duke. Whatever an alliance with Dani might do to denigrate Sir Hilary's reputation, it would be less than nothing compared to the brouhaha that must eventuate if a Duke were to marry the daughter of one of King Louis's discarded mistresses.

  Mother and daughter stared into each other's face.

  What they saw there gave them courage: love, and respect, compassion and caring. Dani was the first to smile.

  “So! We are agreed we have a problem, are we not? Then next must come the effort to find a solution!"

  “Yes,” said Tiri earnestly. “That is what you have been doing for these last hours, is it not? I recognized the—the planning expression."

  Dani was surprised into a chuckle. “You read me well, my little one! Yes, I have thought of several plans. I will tell you about them, and then we shall decide, no?"

  “Tell,” said Tiri crisply.

  Dani took a deep breath. “First, I had thought we might just pack up very quietly tonight and slip away in the morning without warning anyone.” She caught the shocked look upon Tiri's face and smiled ruefully. “Cowardly, is it not? Yet it is one possible course of action."

  “I—I would not like it,” said Tiri honestly.

  “Nor would I,” agreed Dani, “but I think our hostess might understand and approve, after she had thought about it."

  “She is beginning to like you!” protested Tiri. “Yes,” said her mother. “That is why she might understand—and forgive."

  “But you do not intend to pursue that course?” prodded Tiri.

  Dani laughed. “Of course not, my poppet! It is too—tame!"

  Tiri was forced to chuckle. This last sounded more like Maman.

  “My second plan,” continued Dani, “was to pack, as before, but to go to the Duchess's room after she had had her sustaining coffee, and explain that we were leaving—"

  “Having urgent business in Paris, Brittany, or the New World?” teased Tiri, her heart becoming lighter under the spell of her mother's badinage.

  “The New World!” mused Dani. “Now that is one possibility I had not considered! No, Plan Two merely involved offering sincere thanks and saying good-bye."

  “And the third plan?” asked Tiri, not at all enamored of Plan Two.

  “Plan Three was that we take a chance upon remaining here—and hoping that the situation will not become too unpleasant. It is a rather forlorn hope, my doll."

  “Plan Four?” persisted Tiri. “Oh, I know there must be at least one more, since none of them so far has your—authentic touch!"

  Dani's smile this time was her old gamine grin. "Eh, bien! You know I will not go down without a struggle, do you not? Very well: Plan Four. That I send a note to Sir Hilary's lodging to ask if he can use a female confederate in his work. There must be many occasions when a woman of some charm could venture in and succeed where a male could not."

  "Maman!" Tiri had stopped laughing. "Quelle bêtise! Is it that you jest with me?"

  “No,” Dani answered in a reasoning tone. “I was in fact quite pleased with the idea."

  “Impossible! Even if Sir Hilary allowed it, I could not! It is too dangerous! What if you were exposed!"

  “Exposed?” grinned Dani.

  Tiri glared at her reprehensible little maman. “You comprehend! Revealed! Uncovered!” Her maman was shaking with laughter now, as Tiri fought with the English language to find her meaning. "Betrayed!"

  “It is very interesting,” mused the incorrigible creature, “how very often the English language has quite naughty double entendres! I wonder what the so-moral members of Society do about it."

  "Maman," said Tiri firmly, “be sensible! You are the one who is supposed to keep us both come il faut—in good form, correct!"

  “I am?” asked Dani, the ghost of laugher still in her fine eyes.

  “I think we may disregard Plan Four,” said her daughter briskly. “Is there another?"

  “I had thought of a conference with the Duke and Lady Letitia. I am convinced that they both have good will toward us, and they have enough nous to suggest suitable courses of action. No, my dear child, I know you do not wish to spoil the dream you are in by discussing mundane matters with Daral—but that dream, dear child, was a futile one from the start, I am afraid.” She sighed. “I thought I was so clever to persuade Louis to send us off to England! It begins to appear that I merely found a way to break your heart—and my own!"

  There was little more that either could say, except good-night, rest well! Then both went to bed. Both of them remained awake for hours and went ceaselessly over the details of their situation and sought to find a solution.

  When Sir Hilary deposited the Marquis de Bayard at the comfortable hotel in which Mr. Pitt had secured him accommodation, he told the arrogant nobleman, for what it was worth, that he had blotted his copybook badly in behaving with insolence to the Prince of Wales.

  De Bayard raised incredulous eyebrows. “Insolence?” he began with chilling hauteur.

  “Save it,” advised Sir Hilary shortly. “That sort of behavior may be permissible toward one's inferiors, but in this country we do not dismiss a Prince of the Blood, in fact, the Heir to the Throne, as casually as you did tonight. Whatever you had hoped to gain from your meeting with the Prince of Wales, you may forget about. He was deeply offended."

  “That loud-voiced, insensitive glutton!—” protested the Marquis. “He is too stupid and self-esteeming to notice what anyone says of him!"

  “The Prince is highly sensitive,” Sir Hilary corrected him. “You have been poorly briefed, sir! If indeed any of your political party bothered to think about the nature of this mission or the persons you would be appealing to for aid.” He observed the dull red of anger rising under the painted cheeks, the thin, cruel mouth hardening to chastise this commoner. “Spare me your tirades, Marquis de Bayard! I do not heed them, nor will it do you any service to spew your venom upon me! You lost your chance to get help for your King when you insulted the one man who might
have started a popular movement in your favor! Since my usefulness to you is over, may I bid you good-night—and good-bye."

  Sir Hilary went out, closing the door after him quietly. He did not bother to think what his erstwhile charge would do now. At Mr. Pitt's request urged on by letters from King Louis—Sir Hilary had gone to Paris, brought the Marquis unobtrusively out of France, and delivered him safely in London, but his duty ended tonight. In fact, he was so angry at the affront this fatuous, painted nobleman had put upon dear, merry, beautiful little Dani de Granville that he felt his teeth grinding together with fury. He had not minded a whit the Marquis's condescension to himself; after all, he had been introduced to the fellow as Mr. McGregor, although he was in fact heir to a Scottish Viscount. No, it was de Bayard's behavior to Dani which rankled. Instead of the unforgivable tongue-lashing he had just administered to a guest of the English Government, Sir Hilary wished he could have made it an unforgettable knock-down! He was thankful he had given Mr. Pitt notice of his intention to resign from his secret work for the Government and return to his own life and newly urgent responsibilities as heir of an aging Viscount who complained bitterly of his son's continued absence.

  Sir Hilary resolved to call upon his lady—for so he had unconsciously come to regard her—at the earliest possible moment the following day. If his father did not approve of a beautiful French widow as daughter-in-law, then he must be content to permit them to live in England. Sir Hilary grinned. There was little chance of that, when his father had once met the charming Danielle de Granville! After the first son was born—ah! then the welcome would make the hills ring! Much refreshed at the thought of that delightful prospect, Sir Hilary went to bed.