Princes and Princesses: Favourite Royal Romances

by Barbara Cartland

  It was absolutely essential that they should not get sunburnt! At the same time it was unthinkable not to be seen on the sunlit terrace outside the Colonnade.

  As one of the detectives, who had been waiting in the hall at the Weimar and had followed them from the hotel, fetched Prince Friederich a mug of water, Mariska looked about her.

  There was plenty to see besides the beautiful women.

  The men were mostly middle-aged or elderly. She recognised King Ferdinand of Bulgaria and the King of Greece and standing a little apart looking rather strange in a red tarboosh was Hakim Pasha.

  What always amused Mariska when she saw them were the Polish Rabbis moving amongst the elegant Socialites on the Kreuzbrunnen. Dressed in black from head to foot, wearing wide flat-brimmed hats and kaftan-like garments buttoned up to the neck, they looked with their black beards and greasy black ringlets like spectres of doom.

  Mariska was in fact watching three of them with a faint smile of her lips when a voice hailed her. She turned round to find that King Edward had approached her while she was looking the other way.

  “Good morning, Mariska,” he said in his hearty voice. “I cannot believe with your figure that you need to drink the waters as I am forced to do!”

  Mariska curtseyed and smiled at him and as she did so realised that he was accompanied by two people, the Portuguese Minister to St James’s, the Marquis da Soveral, who she knew was a very old friend, and Lord Arkley.

  Because she was annoyed with herself when, as she responded to Lord Aekley’s polite greeting, she felt the colour rise in her cheeks, her eyes dropped and it was impossible to look at him.

  The King was talking to Prince Friederich and it seemed to Mariska that her husband was being more pleasant and more communicative than he had been the morning before.

  Then the King’s attention was diverted by a very attractive woman wearing a huge hat made of green tulle and, while the Marquis da Soveral spoke to Prince Friederich, Lord Arkley asked,

  “How are you today?”

  Mariska looked up at him and, as her eyes met his, she found it impossible to speak for a moment. She could remember nothing but how kind he had been the night before.

  She wanted to tell him that she had gone to bed thinking over what he had said and she had in fact felt happier than she had for a long time.

  Then she remembered what the Duchesse had said to her and said quickly,

  “The Duchesse de Vallière who lives at the hotel is an old friend of your mother’s and she would be very pleased, my Lord, if you would find the time to call on her.”

  “But of course I will,” Lord Arkley replied. “I think I remember my mother speaking of the Duchesse.”

  “She will be so delighted to see you,” Mariska said.

  “Come here, Arkley! I have something to say to you!”

  Mariska felt as if her husband’s voice boomed between them like an explosion from a gun.

  The Marquis da Soveral moved away and Lord Arkley took his place.

  “Good morning, Your Royal Highness,” he said. “I must thank you again for a most enjoyable dinner.”

  It was gracious of him to say so, Mariska thought, for she was quite certain that it had been nothing of the sort.

  “I thought you would be riding,” Prince Friederich said in a tone almost of reproach.

  “I had no time to arrange it for this morning,” Lord Arkley replied, “but I have now notified what I am told is the best livery stable in Marienbad that I will ride tomorrow at seven o’clock and every other morning that I am here.”

  “I heard that is what you did last year,” Prince Friederich remarked.

  Mariska saw Lord Arkley raise his eyebrows as if he was surprised that he should be so well informed about his routine.

  Then the Prince continued,

  “I expect it is the only time you can get away on your own. The Kaiser has always said that his ‘Uncle Bertie’ is an insatiable taskmaster or should I say slave driver?”

  “I find it a great privilege to be in His Majesty’s company,” Lord Arkley replied coldly.

  Privately he was thinking that however much he might wish to be pleasant to Prince Friederich he could not permit him to abuse King Edward in his presence.

  The Prince laughed and it was not a pleasant sound.

  It sounded like the scornful expression of someone who thinks another man is toadying to Royalty.

  He certainly gave that impression to Lord Arkley, who raised his hat to Mariska and was just about to move on when Prince Friederich said,

  “No, wait a minute, Ian. I want you to do me a favour.”

  Lord Arkley paused, surprised at the change in Prince Friederich’s one of voice and at being addressed by his Christian name.

  He waited and the Prince carried on,

  “I wonder when you go riding tomorrow whether you would take the Princess with you? She is always longing to ride and there is no one else I could entrust her with.”

  For a moment Mariska felt that she could not have heard aright what her husband had just said and that she must have dreamt such a request.

  Her eyes were very wide and surprised as she stared at Lord Arkley. There was only a slight pause before he replied,

  “But of course! I should be honoured to escort the Princess.”

  He looked at Mariska before he added,

  “Would seven o’clock be too early for Your Royal Highness?”

  “No, no – of course – not,” Mariska stammered, thinking it impossible to know whether she was on her head or her heels.

  “Then will you make arrangements, Arkley, and tell the livery stable to send me the bill?”

  “It will be a pleasure, sir!” Lord Arkley replied. “But will you excuse me now for I see His Majesty is beckoning me.”

  He walked away and Mariska drew in her breath.

  Could it be true, could it really be true, that after refusing to let her ride even at home except very occasionally Friederich was now arranging for her to ride at Marienbad.

  And with Lord Arkley?

  She was about to speak to him about it when the detective returned with a mug of water.

  “Filthy stuff!” the Prince exclaimed taking it from the man without a word of thanks.

  He, however, raised it to his lips and Mariska, looking through the crowds circling round them, saw in the distance Lord Arkley standing by the King. They were both laughing at something that the Marquis da Soveral, who was known as a great wit, had said to them.

  It suddenly seemed to Mariska as if the sunshine was more brilliant than it had ever been and that the music the band was playing made her want to sing and dance.

  ‘Thank you, thank you,’ she wanted to say to her husband, but hastily she bit back the words before they came to her lips.

  She knew of old that, if she was too excited about something that was to happen, Friederich with a sadistic desire to hurt her would change his mind at the last moment.

  As if he knew what she was feeling, he suddenly looked up at her to say,

  “That is what you wanted, was it not? To ride?”

  “It will be very pleasant to do so,” Mariska said quietly. “Thank you, Friederich, for thinking of it.”

  As she spoke, she knew by the expression on his face, or perhaps some instinct told her, that it had not been his idea.

  But if not – whose?

  Then she told herself that she was being imaginative.

  For some reason she could not guess he wanted to ingratiate himself with Lord Arkley and this was a somewhat devious way of doing it. She only hoped that Lord Arkley would not find her a nuisance. Perhaps he wanted to be alone, perhaps there was someone else who he would rather ride with.

  Because for three years Mariska had been continually snubbed and abused by the only man she came into contact with, she was very humble.

  She found herself tortured during the day with the idea that she had been thrown at Lord Arkley’s head and there
had been nothing he could do but accept the Prince’s suggestion that they should ride together.

  That evening, as if he regretted the small kindness that he had accorded her, Friederich was more difficult and more abusive than usual.

  They dined alone and he found fault with every dish that she had ordered hoping that they would please him. He drank more than usual and by the end of dinner was in the violent mood she knew only too well.

  She had learnt when he was in such a state not to go near him, because if she did so he had a habit of catching hold of her as he had done two nights ago.

  On these occasions because of his superior strength she was unable to escape and he would beat her with the thin leather whip that he always carried with him.

  Josef used to pretend to forget it, but the Prince always asked for it to be handed to him as soon as he was lifted into his chair. He kept it concealed under the rug that covered his knees, but Mariska was vividly conscious that it was there.

  Now, as dinner ended and Prince Friederich ceased cursing her for some imaginary offence, he ordered her with an ominous note in his voice,

  “Come here!”

  She had risen, but seeing the expression in his eyes she deliberately turned and walked from the sitting room.

  He shouted after her but she paid no attention.

  Josef was waiting outside the room.

  “I’ll get him into bed, Your Royal Highness,” the servant whispered.

  “Thank you, Josef,” Mariska replied.

  Locking herself in her own bedroom she sat with her face in her hands trying not to cry.

  She knew that whatever she might do for him Friederich hated her. He hated her because she was young and could move about as he had once been able to do.

  He hated her because, while he raged at her and tortured her mentally and physically, he had still not broken her completely and some ingrained pride made her hold her head high.

  But she knew in fact that she was very near to breaking point and sometimes felt that she would go mad if she had to listen to his insults any longer.

  Every nerve in her body shrank from the brutality that he would punish her with whenever he had the chance.

  ‘It would be better if I died,’ she told herself as she had so often done before. ‘Then at least I would be free!’

  She felt as if Friederich’s guttural voice rasped across her nerves and every meal that they had together was a long-drawn-out torture as she waited for him to begin cursing her.

  She could almost count the glasses that he drank and know when the liquor would inflame the feelings that were always inside him and they would burst violently from his lips.

  ‘How can I go on?’ Mariska asked now, as she had asked herself a thousand times before.

  Then she remembered that tomorrow she would go riding.

  The idea of it was like a star shining in the darkness. But she told herself despondently that doubtless by the morning Friederich would countermand his decision.

  There was, however, just a chance that she could leave the hotel before he was called.

  When he worked himself up into one of his rages, the doctor prescribed a sleeping draught.

  This was more for Josef’s sake than anyone else’s for otherwise the servant was kept up all night striving to prevent the crippled Prince from falling out of bed or smashing everything within reach.

  Usually after he had had a sleeping draught Friederich slept late and was limp and lethargic in the morning.

  It seemed wrong to do so, but Mariska prayed that this was how he would be tomorrow and then she could be away from the hotel before he was aware of it.

  She had told her lady’s maid that she would require a thin riding habit and she rose to go to the wardrobe to see if it was ready.

  It was, a dark blue habit that she had ordered specially for the hot weather but had found later that she was very unlikely ever to wear it.

  She knew that it was becoming and she knew too that her waist was as small as that of the Empress of Austria, who was the most admired woman rider in the whole of Europe.

  At least where riding was concerned, Mariska knew that she need not be afraid of being compared with any other lady in Marienbad. At the same time Lord Arkley might prefer to be with a companion who would keep him amused.

  ‘How can I amuse anybody feeling as I do?’ Mariska asked herself.

  Besides what could she talk about that would interest anyone like Lord Arkley to whom all the doors of the Social world were open?

  It was well known that King Edward only liked people around him who were amusing and what those who frequented Buckingham Palace called ‘fun’.

  The Duchesse had told her how charming the lively Portuguese Minister in London was and how his presence was welcomed at every party.

  “He has been a friend of mine for years,” the Duchesse had said, “He is known as ‘the Blue Monkey’ because of his animated manner, blue-black hair and dark complexion.”

  She had laughed as she added,

  “Lues da Soveral is acclaimed as being the most popular man in London, except by the German Embassy.”

  “Why not there?” Mariska enquired.

  “The Germans dislike him for his anti-German feelings,” the Duchesse replied, “and fear his influence with King Edward.”

  When Mariska had seen the Marquis talking and laughing on the Kreuzbrunnen, she had wondered how many other people there also had anti-German sentiments.

  Because she was married to a German it made her feel as if there was a barrier between herself and other nations.

  But she would have been very stupid if she had not realised that a great number of people, both inside and outside Germany, disliked the Kaiser.

  Not the Army Officers and young men like her husband, who admired his arrogance, his self-complacency and his almost fanatical desire for Germany to be first in everything.

  But many ordinary people felt that he was a juggernaut who ran them down in his motor car ruthlessly and without any thought for their suffering, while women resented the way he looked at them with cold eyes that were often contemptuous.

  How very different, Mariska told herself, to be with King Edward who made every woman he talked to feel that she was beautiful and that she was at the moment the one person he wished to talk to.

  And – Lord Arkley.

  Inevitably her thoughts came back to him. How kind he had been and how understanding when they had sat together under the willow tree.

  She had a sudden longing to go to the tree tonight and hope – just hope – that he might be passing by on his way back to the hotel.

  Then she told herself that it would not only be wrong to flout convention in such a way but positively immodest.

  If he was returning to the hotel on foot, he would pass through the garden and if he found her there would he not suspect that she was waiting for him?

  She went to her window to look up at the stars.

  God or Fate had been unexpectedly kind to her in that tomorrow she was to ride with Lord Arkley!

  It would be presumptuous to ask for more and perhaps unlucky.

  ‘I shall see him tomorrow,’ she whispered to herself and turned away from the window.

  Chapter Four

  The sun was percolating through the branches of the fir trees and their fragrance was warm and somehow friendly.

  Mariska thought that she had not been so happy for a very long time, in fact she had almost forgotten what happiness could mean.

  There was too an excitement within her that she had never known before.

  From the moment she had come out onto the front door steps to walk a little shyly to where Lord Arkley was waiting for her, she had felt as if she was leaving everything that was dark and gloomy behind.

  One glance at the horse she was to ride told her that he had chosen what she was sure was one of the most spirited stallions in the stable.

  It certainly did not match the magnificent hor
ses she had ridden at home in Hungary, but it was not one of the fat lazy animals that were usually hired by the ladies who wished to ride at Marienbad because it was the fashionable thing to do.

  “A lovely morning, ma’am!” Lord Arkley greeted her in a courteous tone that somehow belied the expression in his eyes.

  “It is very lovely for – me,” Mariska replied.

  He helped her into the saddle and thought he had never before lifted anything as light as thistledown and when they rode off he was aware that no woman could look more elegant on a horse.

  He knew, however, that Mariska did not need compliments, but for the moment was concentrating her whole being on the joy of riding and feeling free of the troubles and unhappiness that she had left behind in the hotel.

  He did not know that she had held her breath until she had actually left the suite in case Friederich should hear her.

  She was terrified that after all he would refuse to let her go and order her to send a message to Lord Arkley to say that she could not accompany him.

  The fear remained menacing until the moment that Josef actually closed the suite door behind her.

  Then she ran down the passage knowing that she had escaped and that her heart was singing because for an hour at least she was free.

  They rode in silence along a path between the fir trees to emerge into the sunshine. Below them lay a valley of flat grassland.

  Mariska looked down, then at Lord Arkley and he saw the question in her eyes.

  “It is not the Steppes of Hungary,” he said, “but quite a good place to gallop.”

  He liked the smile that illuminated her whole face.

  Then they were riding their horses down the slope, quickening their pace until finally they reached the grassland.

  It was filled with colourful alpine flowers and they galloped wildly, side by side, urging their horses to compete against each other while tufts of turf flew out behind them.

  They rode for a mile before finally they drew in their reins and Mariska cried,

  “That was wonderful! Completely and absolutely wonderful!”

  For the first time since Lord Arkley had known her, there was colour in her pale cheeks, her eyes were shining and her lips were smiling.