Princes and Princesses: Favourite Royal Romances

by Barbara Cartland

  Laetitia listened intently as she went on,

  “The son of one of the families in the village works for Prince Cloviky who, as you know, owns all the land in this part of Ovenstadt. He tells me the Prince will greet His Majesty when he arrives at The Castle.”

  Laetitia knew Prince Cloviky by name and she remembered that he was an old man who had a very fine ancestral castle, but it was too far away to be of use on this occasion as the King would obviously wish to reach the Palace as quickly as possible.

  “With the Prince,” Fräulein Sobieski went on, “will be the Lord Chancellor to represent the Government. The Prime Minister will be at the Palace tomorrow with the Grand Duke.”

  “And the Grand Duchess!” Laetitia finished. “It is she who has arranged for the King to come to Ovenstadt.”

  “I had heard that,” the Fräulein said, “and I suspect that, as he is unmarried, Her Royal Highness hopes he might propose marriage to Princess Stephanie.”

  Laetitia was not surprised that she should know this because it was obvious that the Grand Duchess’s ambitions would not have gone unnoticed.

  “Do you think His Majesty would make Stephanie a good husband?” Laetitia asked deliberately.

  “He is rather old for her,” the Fräulein replied, “and of course one hears stories that may or may not be true.”

  “What sort of stories?”

  “I should not be repeating this to you, but they say that he is very attractive and the ladies find him irresistible.”

  “Is that because he is a man or a King?” Laetitia asked.

  “Kings naturally have a glamour all of their own,” the Fräulein said, “but after working in Royal Palaces all my life, I know that many of them are lonely and unhappy and, if what I am told is true, King Viktor is very cynical.”

  “Cynical?” Laetitia exclaimed. “Why should he be that?”

  “I have heard,” the Fräulein replied, “that he was crossed in love when he was young and never got over it.”

  This was something Laetitia had not expected.

  “How interesting!” she exclaimed. “Do tell me more!”

  “The person who told me this,” the Fräulein replied, “lives in Zvotana, but she sometimes comes to stay with me for a few days. She also was a Governess to one of the King’s Royal relatives.”

  “So he was crossed in love!” Laetitia repeated as if to herself.

  “My friend said that the girl on whom he had set his heart would not accept him because he had no prospects!”

  She gave a laugh.

  “She must be feeling rather silly now when he has unexpectedly become King of Zvotana.”

  “If she only cared for his position and not for him as himself,” Laetitia said, “he is lucky to have lost her.”

  The Fräulein smiled.

  “I am glad, my dear, that you are just as romantic as you used to be. Don’t lose your ideals and I have always hoped that someday you will find a husband as charming and as noble as your dear father.”

  “That is what I want,” Laetitia sighed, “but God does not make many men like Papa.”

  “It would certainly be difficult to find another Prince Paul,” theFräulein replied, “but one never knows, and I hope dear little Princess Stephanie, whoever she marries, will be happy.”

  “So do I,” Laetitia said fervently and sent up a little prayer that it might be Kyril.

  *

  When the heat of the day had passed and the shadows grew a little longer, she said goodbye to Fräulein Sobieski and re-saddling Kaho set off again in the direction of The Castle.

  As she drew near to it, she thought that it looked very magnificent standing high above the valley with the mountains behind it.

  There was a road leading up to it which zigzagged to make the gradient easier for the horses and, as she looked at it, she saw that only a hundred feet below The Castle itself, there was what she had prayed would be there.

  It was a gypsy encampment set up on a flat piece of ground which had always been used by different tribes in the past.

  It was a small plateau with steep cliffs above and below it and it had been a resting place for the gypsies for many generations.

  Now bringing Kaho to a standstill, Laetitia could see the brightly coloured caravans where they had moved off the winding road onto the level grass.

  They were arranged in a half circle, leaving a large space in the middle where she knew later in the evening they would light their fire.

  It was then they played their violins and she remembered how their wild enchanting melodies would rise up towards The Castle so that those inside would listen and feel thrilled by what they had heard.

  Some years ago, when they arrived on a visit to The Castle, there had been no gypsies to be seen. It had not been their winter visit, when it would have been impossible for the gypsies to camp in the mountains, but it was spring.

  So both she and Kyril had been disappointed when they had ridden up the winding road to find the plateau empty.

  Then, when they had nearly finished dinner, her mother had suddenly put up her hand and exclaimed,

  “Listen!”

  It was then that they heard the music of the violins and Kyril had exclaimed with a light in his eyes,

  “The gypsies! I thought they would not let us down!”

  When dinner was over, they had gone out onto the terrace from which there was a breathtaking panoramic view over the valley.

  Just below them they could see the gypsy fire glowing and now the music of the strings, the clash of cymbals and the bell-like ring of tambourines filled their ears.

  It had made Laetitia want to dance and a few minutes later she, Kyril and Marie-Henriette had flung open the windows and were dancing on the polished floor of the Baronial Hall.

  Afterwards her father had sent money down to the gypsies and, when they received it, they stood waving to him.

  Then they played a serenade, followed by a folk song which was identified with the Regiment in which Prince Paul had served.

  It had all been very moving and Laetitia had thought then, as she thought now, that the gypsies were their friends and no one, not even the Grand Duchess, could prevent her from loving them.

  She rode Kaho forward along the winding road until she could turn off it into the gypsy camp.

  The Voivode was there waiting for her and she was sure that some of the younger gypsies with their keen eyes had been watching her approach.

  She greeted him and left Kaho in the charge of the boys who she knew would take good care of such a fine horse.

  “I have everything ready, as Your Highness wishes,” the Voivode began.

  “You are very kind,” Laetitia replied in Romany.

  He smiled and drew her to a very prettily painted caravan that was next to his own.

  “This is yours,” he said, “for as long as Your Highness is gracious enough to use it.”

  Laetitia thanked him again and she climbed into the caravan to find that it was as attractive inside as it was out.

  The walls were painted with flowers and birds, the small windows were curtained with brightly coloured material and there was a hand-woven rug on the floor that would easily have graced the Palace.

  One of the gypsy women brought her bundle from the saddle of her horse and Laetitia laid it on the bed and took out her gypsy dress.

  The woman exclaimed with delight when she saw it.

  “It’s very beautiful! The gracious lady will look like one of us when she wears it or perhaps more like one of our Russian sisters!”

  “That is how I want to look,” Laetitia enthused, “like a dancer!”

  She had brought with her every petticoat she possessed to wear under a full skirt.

  Fortunately they had been bought in the days when they were not so poor and each one of them had a frill of deep lace that was very appealing.

  Laetitia took off her riding habit and then, with the help of the gypsy woman, put on the pett
icoats, the blouse with its full sleeves and the red silk skirt on which she had sewn innumerable glittering sequins.

  Finally the black corset encircled her tiny waist and, when the gypsy woman had laced it up the front, it made her look very slim and elegant.

  Then the gypsy woman unpinned her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders.

  She brushed it until each hair seemed so full of electricity that it had a life of its own.

  She tied back the sides with red ribbons and covered Laetitia’s head with the veil with the gold coins framing her white forehead.

  Perhaps it was because she was excited at what she was about to do or perhaps because the veil was very becoming, her eyes seemed enormous in her small face and her skin dazzlingly white in contrast to the skin of the woman who was tending to her.

  Finally there were two little red slippers to go on her feet, anklets ornamented with gold coins and bracelets that matched them tied on her wrists.

  Then the gypsy woman stood back and clapped her hands.

  “The gracious lady looks like one of us!”

  “Are you sure?”

  “And very beautiful! A gypsy, but not Hungarian – Russian!”

  “That is what I wanted,” Laetitia murmured.

  It had taken a long time to dress her and, when she stepped a little shyly from the caravan onto the ground, she found the Voivode waiting outside.

  “His Majesty has arrived at The Castle,” he said.

  Because she had been so intent on dressing herself, for a moment Laetitia had almost forgotten about the King.

  “He is at The Castle?” she asked.

  “He was received by two gentlemen with three others in attendance. His Majesty kept with him only two of his own people.”

  Laetitia smiled.

  That was what she had hoped. A small party at The Castle would make things easier.

  “My boys have been watching,” the Voivode went on, “and they say that in a few minutes His Majesty will sit down to dinner.”

  Laetitia knew, although the Voivode did not say so, that Prince Cloviky would not stay at The Castle, but would return home.

  That meant that he would leave early as it was a long drive and after that the King would be alone.

  She also knew that the Lord Chancellor very much disliked late nights and, as he would have a long day ahead of him at the Palace, he too would make every effort not to stay up late conversing with the King.

  She thought everything was going exactly as she wanted. At the same time she felt afraid.

  She had not been aware that the Voivode was watching her face, but, after a moment, he said quietly,

  “Fear is destructive. Believe and have confidence in yourself.”

  “That is what I am trying to have,” Laetitia replied.

  “If Fate is kind, everything will be as you wish.”

  He spoke slowly and positively and did not wait for her reply, but drew her towards the fire which had been lit and she knew that she was to join the gypsies in their evening meal.

  She and the Voivode had chairs to sit on while the tribe sat on the ground and they were waited on by the younger women.

  What was in the stew Laetitia had no idea, but it was more delicious than anything she had tasted for a long time.

  She knew of course that the gypsies used fresh herbs with everything they ate and she felt she could detect the flavour of some of them, but it was difficult to put a name to what not only very appetising but smelt very fragrant. After the stew there was a sweetmeat made with honey.

  Then, as the daylight faded, the stars came out overhead and the moon began to rise in the sky, Laetitia rose to her feet.

  The Voivode rose too and she said to him,

  “You will watch for my signal?”

  “We will do exactly as Your Highness asked.”

  As she hesitated, he added,

  “Our blessings go with you and the magic you asked for is yours.”

  That was what she wanted to hear and she gave him a little smile before she walked away with nobody taking any notice or staring at her curiously.

  The gypsies with their acute perception knew that would have embarrassed her.

  Only as she reached the end of the plateau and started to climb the steps roughly cut in the rock which led directly to The Castle overhead, did she realise that coming behind her and protecting her was one of the gypsy boys.

  He did not speak, he did not encroach on her, but she knew that the Voivode had sent him to give her confidence.

  The steps were steep and she took them slowly and, as she climbed higher, she knew that if she slipped it would be a long fall to the bottom.

  When she reached the terrace onto which the windows of The Castle opened, she moved in the shadows round to the side of it and found a great clump of flowering bushes.

  This, she knew, masked one of the secret ways into The Castle which they had all known as children, and which had made the great building a perfect place for games of ‘hide and seek’.

  Thor Castle in the Middle Ages had been fortified against the enemies of Ovenstadt, and several times the Royal Family had been besieged there by marauding hordes, who sought to kill them.

  But always they had been victorious and one of the reasons had been that, while their enemies blockaded what they thought was the only entrance into the fortifications, there were in fact, several secret passages leading into The Castle that were known only to the rulers of the day.

  Now Laetitia pushed her way through the bushes and found the entrance she sought.

  It took her a little time to pull away the ivy that covered the door before it opened easily and she started to walk along a passage which she knew would lead her to one of the towers.

  At first it was dark and she put out her hands to support herself.

  Then there was light coming through the open arrow-slits through which the first defenders of the castle had fired their arrows.

  Now the steps, little damaged through the years, curved round and round and she climbed upwards until she knew that she was level with the first floor of The Castle above the Banqueting Hall and the drawing room.

  This was the floor where the King would sleep. There was a bedroom with a magnificent curtained bed which, either the Grand Duke if he was with them, had used or their father.

  Opening out of it was a very comfortable private sitting room where as children they were not allowed to intrude unless they were invited to do so.

  “I must have one place where I can read the newspapers in peace,” her father had said half-jokingly. “The rest of The Castle is yours, but this room is mine.”

  They used to tease him about it and say he only went there to fall asleep when he was tired from their chatter.

  Laetitia thought that she could remember every chair and table, every picture that hung on the wall.

  She knew, too, exactly where the catch in the panelling was which would let her into the room.

  Now, as she pressed it very gently and the panelling began to swing open, she heard a man’s voice say,

  “Is there anything else you require, sir?”

  “No, thank you,” another man replied, who she was sure was the King. “I have some State papers to read and after that I shall go to bed.”

  “State papers are often long-winded and incomprehensible and you have a long day ahead of Your Majesty tomorrow.”

  “I am aware of that,” the King replied, “but I promise you I will not bore myself more than is absolutely necessary.”

  They both laughed and the man who had spoken first said,

  “Goodnight, sir. It’s very quiet here, so I don’t think you will be disturbed.”

  There was the sound of a door shutting and then a few seconds later the faint rustle of paper.

  Laetitia moved slowly and silently through the opening in the panelling into the sitting room.

  Because her father had complained of a draught coming from that corner of the room
, saying that the arrow-slits in the tower let in the wind, her mother had placed a screen there.

  It was a very pretty one made of ancient tapestries that had come from other parts of The Castle and were too old to be used in their entirety.

  She had cleaned them, kept the best pieces and joined them together to cover the screen.

  Laetitia had loved looking at it ever since she was a little girl, pointing out to Marie-Henriette the animals, the men riding on horseback and the ladies with long pointed headdresses.

  Now, after drawing in her breath, she walked slowly round the screen and into the room.

  It was lit, as she expected to find it, not with the oil-lamps that were used in most parts of The Castle, but because her father preferred it, by candlelight.

  On each side of the fireplace in which, because it could often be a little chilly at night there was a fire burning, there were two huge fat candles set in carved stands.

  There were several silver sconces on the walls in each of which there were two lighted candles and there was another large one on the table at the side of the King who was sitting reading the papers he held on his knee.

  Laetitia did not speak and for a moment he was not aware that she was there.

  Then, as if instinctively he sensed her presence he looked up and appeared for a moment to be frozen into immobility.

  But if he was staring in surprise at her, she was also staring at him and he was not in the least what she had expected.

  To begin with he was very much more attractive than she had anticipated, even allowing for his gypsy blood, and not only his hair but his eyes were black.

  His features were clear-cut and he was, she thought, not only one of the most handsome men she had ever seen, but also the most unusual.

  There was something about him which made him look different from anybody else and she was also aware that Fräulein Sobieski had been right in saying that he was cynical.

  There were lines running from his nose to the corners of his lips which made him appear disdainful.

  When he spoke, there was a dry almost mocking note in his voice, as he asked,

  “Are you real or an apparition?”

  “I am real,” Laetitia replied.