Princes and Princesses: Favourite Royal Romances

by Barbara Cartland

  “Come to sit down. I want to hear why you are travelling alone in Russia, which seems to me a remarkably foolhardy thing to do.”

  “I can look after myself,” Vida said lightly, “and actually I have no one to travel with me since my husband – died.”

  “You are a widow?”

  “Yes, but I have reverted to my own name since I think that is one of the ways to prevent oneself from feeling unhappy.”

  She spoke with what she hoped was a sad note in her voice and did not look at the Prince, although she was aware that his eyes were upon her face.

  Then, as she sat down on a comfortable sofa, he sat in a chair almost opposite her and said,

  “Tell me more. You cannot suddenly have materialised from Hungary as if you were Aphrodite rising from the foam.”

  “Actually I have come from Paris.” Vida smiled.

  “And you are Russian?”

  Vida made a little gesture with her hands.

  “Partly,” she said, “but I also have some Hungarian blood in my veins.”

  “A very intriguing mixture,” the Prince said, “and, if you are what the English would call a ‘mongrel,’ so am I.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Yes, my mother was half-English and half-French.”

  Vida stared at him in surprise. This was something no one had told her before and she had assumed that he was wholly Russian.

  ‘This could be the reason,’ she thought, ‘why apart from a love of gambling he goes to Monte Carlo every year and why he visits England.’

  “Which country do you find most compatible?” she asked.

  “That is a very difficult question,” the Prince replied, “and I suppose it is symbolic that while my name is Russian and my home is Russian, I am situated on the border.”

  It was a clever evasion of what she wanted to know and Vida laughed.

  “I cannot imagine you being anything but Russian.”

  “Why?” he asked abruptly.

  “Because of all I have heard about you.”

  “Now you do intrigue me. What have you heard?”

  Vida smiled.

  “That you are very powerful, that you are feared by a great number of people and that you are held in adulation by the whole of my sex.”

  This was daring, but the Prince laughed.

  “I am flattered, Countess,” he said, “that you should be interested to learn so much about me. I only wonder how true your information is.”

  “I hope it is,” Vida said, “since that makes it so much more – interesting to know you.”

  She paused before the word ‘interesting’ because she had been about to say ‘exciting’, but thought that this might seem too forward.

  There was a twinkle in the Prince’s eyes, which told her he had read her thoughts and knew what she had been about to say.

  Servants came in with champagne and after she had drunk a little and had eaten a few spoonfuls of the caviar that had accompanied it, Vida said,

  “If I am fortunate enough to be invited to dine with Your Highness, I think that perhaps I should start to change from my dusty travelling clothes.”

  “They don’t look in the least dusty to me,” the Prince replied, “but perhaps you would like a rest. There is no hurry, for I am afraid I keep late hours and would not wish you to retire too early.”

  “It depends how long a journey I will have to undertake tomorrow.”

  “One thing is quite impossible,” the Prince said, “and that is for you to leave tomorrow. First of all it would be cruel to your horses and secondly cruel to me.”

  “That is certainly something I must consider,” Vida replied lightly.

  As the Prince handed her over to a servant, who led her up a magnificently carved gold staircase to the next floor, she thought that she was certainly progressing easily on the route she had set herself.

  She was in The Castle, she had met the Prince and he had already invited her to stay longer than was required by the customary hospitality that an ordinary stranger could expect.

  Margit was waiting for her in her bedroom, which was as splendid as the rest of The Castle.

  The bed stood in an alcove with silk curtains falling from an elaborate gold corolla that reached the ceiling. There were white bearskin rugs on either side of the bed and everywhere one was likely to put one’s feet.

  The furniture was Louis XIV and the pictures on the wall by Fragonard.

  It was so beautiful and at the same time so magnificent that as Vida gazed around her Margit said,

  “This place isn’t real. If it disappeared and I woke up, I wouldn’t be the least surprised.”

  Vida laughed.

  “That is what I have been feeling too.”

  Margit was taking the gowns out of Vida’s trunk and hanging them up in the wardrobe.

  “Now what are you going to wear tonight?” she asked. “I am told that there is a large party.”

  “A party!” Vida exclaimed.

  She was surprised because, as she had found the Prince alone, she had somehow assumed that she would be dining with him alone and they would have a tête-à-tête.

  “The Steward tells me that there are always twenty or thirty people staying in the house with His Highness,” Margit explained, “and they seldom get to bed before dawn.”

  “In that case,” Vida said, “I must lie down and rest. I want to have my wits about me.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Margit agreed.

  She helped Vida undress and then pulled the curtains over the windows, shutting out the last rays of sunshine, and left her alone.

  It was nine o’clock before Vida went downstairs for dinner, wearing one of the more elaborate, somewhat theatrical gowns she had bought especially for this visit.

  She had thought, since the Prince’s Castle was so isolated, that there would not be any competition.

  Yet now she felt that she had been foolish in not foreseeing that with his reputation he would expect to be amused and would make sure that there was not one hour in the day that he would be bored.

  In Monte Carlo he would give parties like those the Grand Dukes gave in their villas with dancing, gambling and a profusion of beautiful women. She had been naïve to think that his way of life would not be the same in Russia.

  She had chosen a dress which was one of the most sophisticated she had bought. As it sparkled and shimmered with every movement she made, it certainly looked most alluring.

  Yet she was slightly worried in case she had chosen the wrong role for herself.

  It might have been wiser to pose as an unsophisticated young girl seeking the protection of a strong man!

  It was, however, too late now. She was dressed for the part that she must play and there was no looking back.

  Her gown, which was green with flounces around the hem, was a perfect foil for her dark red hair and her white skin.

  Around her neck she wore a necklace of emeralds that had belonged to her mother and on her head a small tiara of the same stones.

  “It certainly makes you look older than you are,” Margit said as she finished dressing Vida, “and I suppose you know what you are doing. If you ask me, you will find yourself in a lot of trouble if you’re not careful.”

  The remark was so like Margit that Vida laughed.

  “You are not very encouraging!”

  “Well, I’m not interferin’,” Margit said, “but just you watch your step where that Prince is concerned. I’ve heard things about him before now and Henri tells me that they talk about his ‘harem’ as if it were somethin’ clever.”

  Vida drew in her breath and then told herself that the fact that the Prince was susceptible to women made her task easier.

  Nothing mattered except, if he knew where her father was and to get him to help her.

  At the same time, as she walked behind the servant who was waiting to escort her to the salon where they were to meet before dinner, her heart was beating frantically and she was
conscious that a hundred butterflies were fluttering inside her breast.

  Then she raised her head a little higher.

  ‘Why should I be frightened of anyone?’ she asked herself. ‘If he cannot tell me what I want to know, the sooner I leave the better!’

  The terrifying thing in that case was that she had no idea whatever where she should go next and, as the servant reached the salon door, she was sending out her thoughts towards her father.

  ‘Help me, Papa! Help me!’ she was saying to her father in her heart. ‘I cannot manage all this without you. You must help me!’

  Chapter Three

  The party was certainly one of wild gaiety.

  To begin with Vida had been overcome by the beauty and elegance of the Prince’s guests.

  When she had gone downstairs and was escorted from the hall by one of the footmen, she had heard the laughter and chatter of voices coming from the salon even before the door was opened.

  Everybody was, as she expected, speaking French and it was impossible to imagine any of the ladies present could have been dressed anywhere but in Paris.

  Her father had often told her how the Russian Court favoured France not only in speaking that country’s language but also in having French Tutors for their children.

  What was more, the Nobles all gravitated towards Paris as if it was a special paradise created for them.

  It was obvious at a quick glance that Frederic Worth had dressed the beautiful women clustered around the Prince and Vida was immediately glad that her gown, which had seemed theatrical in London, did not look dowdy in this highly competitive scene.

  As she walked down the salon under the huge crystal chandeliers, the Prince moved towards her and she thought that he looked even more magnificent and overwhelming in his evening clothes than he had done in the daytime.

  He kissed her hand and she fancied that his eyes flickered over the emeralds she wore in her hair and then at those round her neck before he said,

  “My guests are all eager to meet you, Countess, and there is no need for me to tell you how beautiful you look.”

  He offered her the compliment in the manner she might have expected and in French it had a smoothness that made her feel that it was more polite than personal.

  She, however, gave him a somewhat provocative little smile and looked up at him from under her carefully mascaraed eyelashes.

  When she met his eyes, she felt uncomfortably that he was being perceptive about her and she was afraid that he would penetrate her disguise.

  She was therefore glad to greet his guests and receive the compliments of the gentlemen and the somewhat searching glances from the ladies.

  The Prince explained how she had found the pass through the mountains very restricting and her journey had taken much longer than she had intended.

  Amid exclamations of sympathy Vida, had the uncomfortable feeling that the Prince was well aware that she had intended to stay in his castle and there was nothing accidental about it.

  Then she told herself that she was being needlessly apprehensive and there was no reason why he should suspect that she was anything but what she purported to be.

  Because she was a newcomer the Prince announced that he was taking her into dinner.

  They proceeded into the huge and very beautifully decorated dining room, where she found that she was sitting on his right, even though there were a number of ladies in the party of very much higher rank.

  Nobody asked her any awkward questions until the gentleman on her other side said,

  “I cannot remember ever meeting anybody with the name of Kărólski before. Where is your family seat situated?”

  Vida had anticipated that this question would be asked sooner or later and she replied,

  “I am afraid there are very few of my family left now. We lived when we were in Russia, although I have never been there, in the Caucasus near the border with Georgia. My father used to tell me it was very beautiful, but alas, I have never seen where my ancestors once were considered powerful.”

  “A sad story,” the gentleman replied, “and something that might apply to quite a number of Russians. Your father preferred Western Europe?”

  “He liked travelling,” Vida answered, “and when he was not travelling you will not be surprised to hear that he enjoyed living in Paris.”

  “A place I also enjoy and where the majority of my friends find everything a man could possibly desire.”

  Vida looked at the faces of the ladies round the table and thought that she had never seen a more beautiful assembly anywhere else in the world.

  As if he knew what she was thinking, the Prince on the other side of her said,

  “As you see, I am a connoisseur of beautiful people as well as of antiques.”

  “That is your reputation and you certainly live up to it,” Vida replied. “If you really are kind enough to allow me to stay tomorrow, I hope I may see some of your treasures.”

  “I am looking forward to showing them to you,” the Prince replied, “but I thought it might amuse you if we had a luncheon picnic in the loveliest place on my estate, which I also like to think is one of the most beautiful in all Russia.”

  “I find it very hard to refuse such a suggestion.”

  “I would not allow you to do so,” he said quietly.

  Vida knew in a strange way that he was trying to dominate her and told herself that she must be very very careful.

  The food at dinner was as good as any she had eaten in Paris and the wine complemented it.

  When they all moved together, French fashion, from the dining room she found that they were now in a different salon from the one where they had assembled before dinner.

  There was a polished floor in the centre of the room, which was obviously meant for dancing and a string orchestra was playing soft and romantic music that made Vida long to waltz.

  Without even asking her, the Prince put his arm around her and drew her onto the floor.

  Then, as they began to dance, the tune that had been soft and seductive became a call from the heart that she found impossible to resist.

  It was like being surrounded by flowers and feeling their fragrance becoming part of her imagination until she thought of herself as living in one of her own Fairy stories.

  She was the Princess partnered by Prince Charming in a land of happiness where nothing unpleasant ever happened.

  As if the Prince felt the same, although she knew, of course, it could not be so, he pulled her a little closer to him and they danced in silence as if speech would have interrupted the magic of their imaginations.

  Then, as the dance came to an end, the Prince drew her from the room where they had been dancing into a conservatory that opened out of it.

  She saw it was filled with exotic flowers, all lit in the amazing way that her father had described to her as peculiar to the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg.

  There were lights that shone behind the leaves of the orchids and the lilies, making them transparent – there were lights that illumined flowers growing on the floor and flowers hanging from the ceiling.

  Everything seemed to be in bloom and it was an enchantment that made Vida feel once again that it could only be part of a Fairy story.

  Looking up at the flowers above her, she clasped her hands together and sighed,

  “It is so lovely that I know it can only be part of a dream.”

  “As you are!” the Prince said very quietly. “I am only afraid that you will vanish in the same unaccountable manner in which you arrived.”

  “I will not do that until I have seen everything in this magical castle,” Vida smiled.

  “Thank you,” he answered, “and now come and hear some music that comes from our neighbours and which I feel you will appreciate.”

  The string orchestra had now been replaced by a band of Hungarian gypsies. They were very colourful, the women wearing full red skirts with velvet bodices and the men with their sashes glistening with jewel
led weapons.

  Vida had always heard that the Russians appreciated gypsy music and were in fact kinder to the gypsies than any other nation in Europe.

  She realised at once that these performers were particularly talented, not only in their playing but also in their dancing when she knew that she was watching women who could rival any ballerina, however acclaimed.

  Now the tempo of the party seemed to rise with the gypsy melodies.

  The dancing became wilder and it seemed to Vida that her heart beat quicker and she became irrepressibly excited.

  Although she danced with two or three other gentlemen, the Prince seemed to claim her for dance after dance.

  She deliberately ignored what she thought were angry and questioning glances from one of the ladies in particular, who looked even more entrancing than the others.

  Only when once again the Prince had taken Vida into the conservatory to look at the lights on the flowers did the lady come in behind them to exclaim,

  “Do you intend to neglect me, Ivan, for the whole evening? I cannot imagine why you should be so cruel to me when I have come such a long way to visit you.”

  “I am sorry, Eudoxia, if I have seemed neglectful,” the Prince replied lightly, “but I cannot allow a newcomer who knows nobody else in the party to feel that she is not being properly entertained.”

  Princess Eudoxia gave a spiteful look at Vida, who said quickly to the Prince,

  “As it happens, Your Highness, I was just about to ask you to excuse me if I retire to bed. It has been a long and very exhausting day for me and I am finding it difficult to keep my eyes open.”

  ‘Then I must not try to persuade you to stay up,” the Prince said, “and there is always tomorrow.”

  “Of course,” Vida agreed, “and I am looking forward to your picnic.”

  He escorted her to the bottom of the stairs, then, lifting her hand, he held it in both of his before he said,

  “You promise that you will not disappear during the night back to Olympus or wherever it is you came from, so that I shall not see you in the morning?”

  “I promise – ”

  She laughed as she spoke, then, as she looked into the Prince’s eyes, she found the sound dying away on her lips.