CHAPTER V.
THE CROWN MATRIMONIAL.
IT was with a sardonic chuckle that Prince Mirkovics remarked the next morning to his pretty German daughter-in-law, whom he had summoned by telegraph from Thracia to assist him upon this momentous occasion, that the entertainment he was offering to his future Queen was favoured with Queen’s weather. The irony underlying the speech was necessarily lost upon Princess Boris, to whom Princess Lida of Dardania was the only possible Queen for Thracia, but she responded with sympathetic cheerfulness, relieved to be able to display her new Felix gown without offering it up as a sacrifice to her loyalty. The locality of the picnic had cost Prince Mirkovics much anxious thought, but he had fixed at last upon a spot known as the Tannenspitze, a grassy hill-top emerging from a sea of pines, and commanding an extensive view. Carriages were to convey the party from Ludwigsbad to the foot of the hill, but the summit itself could only be approached on foot, by means of a variety of intricate paths through the pine-woods, and this it was that rendered the place specially suitable in view of Prince Mirkovics’s purposes. The arrangements generally were left in the hands of Princess Boris, who was dominated by the ambition of giving the smartest picnic Ludwigsbad had ever seen. This necessitated an expenditure at which the frugal soul of her father-in-law rose in shocked revolt, but he remembered in time the stakes for which he was playing, and held his peace.
In spite of the magnitude of the preparations for their entertainment, the list of those invited was rather select than lengthy. The guest of the day was naturally Princess Lida, a young lady of seventeen, endowed with a tact and assurance that would have done credit to a world-worn society leader of seventy. It pleased her Highness, who may or may not have received a hint from her mother before starting, to single out Philippa as the object of her special favour, and enlist her as her inseparable companion for the day. Philippa must sit beside her in the carriage, and walk with her through the pine-woods, and give detailed answers to an endless list of searching questions as to her home life, her favourite pursuits, her tastes, and her ancestry. The easy persistence with which Princess Lida imposed her will upon the whole party, and her stamp upon the conversation, astonished and oppressed the English girl, who felt herself overgrown and unfinished and badly dressed in the presence of this very self-possessed young lady. The only misgiving which had afflicted Philippa on starting, relative to her gown of white cloth, with its edging of gold cord, and pale blue silk shirt, was the fear that something darker would be more suitable for a rough country walk. Now, however, as she contemplated Princess Lida’s delicate silver-grey silk and black lace, and the marvellous confection of pervenche cashmere, decked in bewildering fashion with velvet bows, diamond buttons, iridescent embroidery, and silk fringe, which Princess Boris had considered fitting wear for the occasion, she owned to herself that the dress she had worn at the Marlborough House garden-party, a few weeks back, would not have been at all too smart. A miserable consciousness of her shoes also oppressed her, for they were English-made and serviceable, and contrasted painfully with the fairy-like foot-gear, high-heeled and highly decorated, of the other ladies.
When the carriages had been left behind, however, and the walk through the woods began, Philippa found that the advantage was on her own side, but she thought Prince Mirkovics need not have emphasised this superiority in the way he did. Noticing the difficulty with which Princess Lida stumbled along the rough track, he devoted himself ostentatiously to removing the stones from her path, accompanying his attentions with remarks which the two girls were fain to regard as breathing loyalty and respect, but which seemed fated to move King Michael and his suite to bursts of ill-concealed laughter. It was a relief to Philippa when their host insisted at last on offering his arm to the Princess, and provided a cavalier for herself in the shape of Captain Roburoff, who appeared to have altogether forgotten and forgiven the snub he had received only five days ago at her godmother’s hands. He spoke of Cyril and his efforts to solve the Jewish problem with so much interest and appreciation that Philippa, unconscious that a word from Prince Soudaroff had led him to read up the subject carefully, felt her heart warm towards him, and conversed with an animation such as she rarely showed to strangers.
Cyril himself was unable to spare time for the picnic, which caused Prince Mirkovics a secret guilty satisfaction, but he had generously given Mansfield a day’s holiday, which had so far failed to bring the secretary the pleasure he had expected. Philippa’s society was unattainable, and in despair Mansfield attached himself to another disconsolate young Englishman, who knew no one but the friends with whom he had come. Together they forsook the beaten track in favour of a torrent-bed, which afforded them a good deal of scrambling and a certain amount of risk, arousing thereby the longing envy of Usk, who had been delivered over to the tender mercies of Princess Lida’s lady-in-waiting. Countess Birnsdorf was stiff, elderly, and unappreciative of rural delights, and she subjected Usk to a severe cross-examination, with the view of discovering whether he was really “born,” in the German sense of the word. His light-hearted confession that he really could not answer half her questions without looking up his family history in the ‘Peerage’ shocked and startled her, and he detected a perceptible shrinking from his society until she had satisfied herself as to the length of time the Mortimers had reigned at Llandiarmid, and the arms they had borne at different epochs. Early study of the carvings and stained glass in the Castle hall had rendered Usk well versed in these, and before the hill-top was reached, the Countess had come to look upon him almost with friendliness. The feeling was not reciprocated, however, and Usk was base enough to turn his charge over to Mansfield’s unhappy friend, who had in some way contrived to lose his companion in the wood, and approached to ask whether Usk had seen him. Quieting his conscience with the excuse that it would be quite a novel and exciting sensation for the Countess to tall for the first time to some one who was not “born,” Usk slipped away to find Mansfield, whom he discovered engaged in a solitary search for adventures in the miniature cavern where the stream took its rise. In this Usk joined him, and they wasted all the vestas they had with them, made themselves decidedly wet, and tore their clothes a little, enjoying themselves thoroughly the while. When the want of matches rendered further exploration impracticable, they remembered reluctantly their duty to the rest of the party, and were retracing their steps to the summit of the hill, when there was a flash of blue and white through the trees, and the two young men were suddenly confronted by Philippa, who burst upon them, flushed and panting.
“Usk,” she cried fiercely, “if you let that odious little cad come near me again, I’ll never speak another word to you in my life!”
“Which I wish to remark, that your language is strong, Phil,” observed Usk mildly.
Mansfield’s eyes blazed as he turned upon him. “For shame, Usk! Doesn’t it matter to you that your sister has been insulted? Who is it, Lady Phil? that Scythian fellow?”
“No, no,” panted Philippa, “it’s the King. But Usk is quite right. It was silly of me to be so excited. Oh, please, Mr Mansfield, don’t go. I—I want you to hear how it was. Please stay here.”
She caught his hand and held it, and Mansfield, before whose eyes had floated a vision in which his stick made closer acquaintance with King Michael’s sacred person than the monarch would be likely to consider agreeable, allowed himself to be persuaded to remain, more especially since Usk gave him a warning look behind Philippa’s back. “This is my affair. You have no right to interfere,” the look meant, and Mansfield was forced to submit.
“I suppose they must have arranged it beforehand,” Philippa went on, “for you know, Usk, I was walking with Captain Roburoff. He talked so nicely about Uncle Cyril, and told me such interesting things about the Jews in Scythia, that I never thought about the path until he stopped suddenly, and said, ‘A thousand pardons, mademoiselle! What a fool I am! I have lost the way,’ and then I found that none of the others were in sight, and I could not hear their voices either. Captain Roburoff seemed dreadfully sorry, and asked me to sit down on a fallen tree while he went on a little farther to see where the path led to. I said I was not tired, but he persisted I must be, and I thought he would fancy that I was afraid to stay in the wood alone, so I sat down. He was out of sight among the trees almost at once, and it really was rather lonely, so that I was quite glad when I heard him coming back, as I thought. But it wasn’t Captain Roburoff at all, it was the King, and he said he had flown to the relief of the distressed damsel, and talked a lot of nonsense about wood-nymphs, and tried to pay me compliments about—about my hair, you know, and that sort of thing. I nearly laughed, but I thought it might be his way of being polite, so I walked on with him. Then we came to a rather steep place, and he would insist on helping me up it (though I believe I could have helped him much better), and he squeezed my hand. I pulled it away at once, and he said, in the most idiotic way, ‘Would that I might call that fair hand mine for ever!’ I thought that was going rather far, even for a foreigner, so I made some remark about Princess Lida, just to recall her to his mind. Then he flew out and said that he hated Princess Lida, that his mother and the Princess of Dardania had arranged the marriage when he was a baby, and had brought him up to look upon it as a settled thing, and that Princess Lida had no soul, and not a thought in common with him, and he was tired of her very name, and he would be graciously pleased to marry me instead. Fancy—a boy years younger than I am! He had got sentimental again by that time, but I was so angry that I gave him a good talking-to, and told him that he ought to be ashamed of himself, and that Princess Lida was perfectly lovely, and would make him a far better queen than he had any right to expect, and then he went into such a passion! I think he must have expected me to regard his offer as a sort of command, to be obeyed without question, for he said that the Princess of Dardania and her daughter were the curse of Thracia, and that it would be my fault if the kingdom was ruined and he went to the bad. I wanted to box his ears, and at last I was really afraid I should, for he was just like a little boy who ought to be put in a corner, so I came away. Usk, do you think he was mad—or drunk?” Philippa ended the story of her wrongs in an awestruck whisper.
“Don’t know, I am sure. I shall speak to him and see.”
“No, Usk, you’d better not. You know father told us to be sure to consult Uncle Cyril at once if the slightest attempt was made to entangle us in politics while we were abroad, and I suppose this must be the sort of thing he meant.”
“Would you like me to tell Count Mortimer when I see him to-night, Lady Phil?” asked Mansfield. A horrible suspicion had seized him that Cyril might have some hand in the affair. He hated himself for the thought, but his short intercourse with his employer had served to assure him that over-scrupulousness was not one of Cyril’s failings. If he was indeed in King Michael’s confidence, and Philippa discovered the fact, the enthusiastic love she cherished for her uncle would be destroyed for ever, and Mansfield made up his mind to spare her the pain of such a disillusionment.
“Oh no,” she answered, flushing scarlet. “I could not let any one else tell him about such a horrid thing. I must do it myself.”
“I would make as little of it as possible,” said Mansfield, with assumed unconcern. “I shall see him before you do, that’s all.”
“Oh yes, please tell him, then. Perhaps he might say we ought not to have lost time. But you won’t leave me alone all afternoon, Usk, will you? or if Usk is called away, you’ll stay with me, won’t you, Mr Mansfield?”
Mansfield assured her of his constant attendance with a warmth that drew another warning look from Usk, and they returned to the rest of the party, who were all somewhat ruffled, owing to the obvious ill-temper of King Michael. He was seated between his fiancée and Princess Boris, doing his best to make both ladies uncomfortable, and the appearance of Philippa with her bodyguard produced no improvement in his mood, since all Prince Mirkovics’s tactics failed to separate the three. Even when Princess Lida claimed Philippa again after lunch as her companion, Usk and Mansfield followed the two girls at a discreet distance, much to the disapproval of the lady-in-waiting, who suspected in them a romantic adoration for her charge. By affecting an abnormal denseness, and complete ignorance of the French language, they succeeded in baffling their host’s efforts to detach them from Philippa, and when they returned to Ludwigsbad in the evening they were able to boast that King Michael had not ventured to approach her again. Mansfield saw Usk and his sister safely deposited at Princess Soudaroff’s lodgings, and returned reluctantly to the Hôtel Waldthier to tell his story to Cyril. He could not bring himself to look at his employer during the recital, for the fear which had seized him at first had become almost a certainty, and it was with a shock of anticipation rather than surprise that he heard Cyril say—
“So soon? The young rascal has lost no time, certainly.”
“Count, you didn’t know of this?” The agony of entreaty in his own voice startled Mansfield.
“May I ask what business it is of yours?”
“I couldn’t—I can’t believe it. Some one told me once that you spared no one when it was a question of politics, but I can’t believe you would expose your own niece to unpleasantness simply to further your schemes.”
“A Daniel come to judgment! The unpleasantness was soon over, on your own showing.”
“It would not have been in the case of any other girl. It might have led her into awful trouble. Lady Phil is different. She would not let herself be tempted by a crown.”
“In view of your position with regard to my brother’s family,” remarked Cyril icily, “your interference in this affair is open to objection.”
Mansfield’s accusing eyes fell, but he recovered himself quickly. “I can’t deny that I love Lady Phil, Count; but that doesn’t deprive me of the right a man has to help any girl that he may see placed in an unfair position.”
“And what is the exact nature of the help you propose to render?”
“To resign my post with you, and telegraph to Lord Caerleon. Lady Phil shall never hear the full truth, if I can help it. I think it would break her heart to know that you——”
Mansfield’s voice faltered, and Cyril’s keen eyes scrutinised him curiously.
“Do you know that you are a fool, Mansfield?—an honest, blundering idiot? I won’t accept your resignation, do you hear?—though I should be justified in doing so, after the way you have spoken to me. How dare you expect me to defend myself against your suspicions? You know you had given me up as a bad lot. Well, all I knew of the matter was a hint last night from Prince Soudaroff that young Michael had fallen in love with my niece, but I refused to have anything to do with it. And even now I know that you trust me no further than you can see me.”
“Forgive me, Count. If you knew how I hated the thought——”
“I should grovel before you in mingled pity and admiration, no doubt. But why I should care a farthing about your opinion of me I don’t know. I have never defended myself to any one before, but you are really too young and idyllic for this wicked world. Well, you may be easy about my niece. I will put a stop to King Michael’s love-making.”
Mansfield’s mind was in a whirl as he departed. He had not known hitherto what power Cyril possessed over him, nor with what mastery he could play upon his feelings; but he felt now that if he had found his employer guilty of the baseness he had suspected in him, it would have been a blow second only to the loss of Philippa herself. The unworthiness of his late suspicions cut him to the heart, and his whole demeanour the next day was a mute entreaty for pardon, which amused Cyril not a little. Even an incident which would have aroused his misgivings the day before had now no power to disturb his trust.
The early promenade and the open-air breakfast were over, and tranquillity had settled down upon the place for the space of those morning hours which Ludwigsbad holds sacred to rest and seclusion. At the Hôtel Waldthier Mansfield sat writing in the little anteroom of Cyril’s appartement, whence he could command the side-door which was reserved for Count Mortimer’s visitors. Many strange guests had Mansfield admitted at that door, from royal princes to poverty-stricken Jews, but it was startling even to him to observe a stage conspirator approaching it. The visitor wore a soft felt hat pulled down over his face, and a greatcoat with the collar turned up—an attire singularly unsuited to the weather,—and he glanced from side to side, starting at the slightest sound, in a very realistic manner. After stepping noiselessly up to the door, and apparently satisfying himself that he was unobserved, he returned on tiptoe to the gateway by which he had entered the garden, and brought back with him another person attired like himself. Together they approached Mansfield’s window, and the first man made signs expressive of a desire to enter without attracting attention. Leaving his desk, Mansfield admitted them at the private door. They entered without uttering a word, but, once in the room, the second turned down his collar and disclosed the features of King Michael.
“Are we alone, and unobserved?” he demanded of his companion.
“Absolutely so, my liege,” returned Captain Roburoff, in accents that suggested a certain difficulty in speaking. The King turned majestically to Mansfield, who half expected to hear himself addressed as “Minion.”
“Tell Count Mortimer that I wish to see him,” he said.
“I will inquire whether his Excellency is at leisure, sir,” responded Mansfield, who would have given much to deny the monarch admittance altogether. But although Cyril raised his eyebrows quizzically, and asked whether Mansfield would wish to be present during the interview, he rose at once and came to the door to welcome his royal visitor.
“To what am I indebted for this supreme honour, sir?” he inquired when they were alone.
“Be seated, Count,” replied King Michael affably. “I am here on a friendly errand, I assure you.”
Cyril bowed and obeyed, and his visitor continued—
“I perceive, Count, that you are surprised by this private visit. No doubt it will surprise you still more to learn that it is merely an earnest of my good-will towards you. I admit that when I came to the throne I acted hastily in accepting your resignation, but no one can regret it more than I do. I look to you, as a fair-minded man, to place the blame where it is due. My mind had been poisoned against you—by whom, you can guess.”
Cyril bowed again in silence. King Michael went on—
“I have made up my mind to redress the injustice into which I was hurried. In their eagerness to aggrandise their own family, my mother and the Princess of Dardania induced me to engage myself to Princess Ludmilla, and by means of this quasi-promise the Princess of Dardania has contrived to exercise a wholly unwarranted authority over myself and the kingdom. I have determined to put an end to it. The Princess’s influence is injurious to Thracia, and her daughter is personally distasteful to myself. The position which she hopes to occupy I destine for your niece, Lady Philippa Mortimer, and I desire your assistance in the matter.”
“Well?” interjected Cyril, with startling suddenness.
“I think you forget to whom you are speaking, Count.”
“No, sir. I do not forget that for the sake of the girl you now wish to cast aside you broke the heart of the mother who had sacrificed her life’s happiness for you and your kingdom.”
The King’s sallow face grew livid. “If all that is said is true, you are not the man to talk to me of cruelty to her Majesty, Count.”
“At least I can say that I have repented my cruelty from that day to this. You have not.” Cyril’s eyes were flashing, and his even voice was charged with thunder. King Michael and he had both risen to their feet, and were confronting each other angrily across the table.
“We are losing time in these irrelevant recriminations, Count,” said the King, recovering himself. “I wish you to undertake the conduct of this affair. You will return to office, of course—I give you carte blanche with regard to the wretched crew of incapables at present in power—but I do not know whether you will prefer to rid me of the Princess of Dardania and her daughter before setting to work. I leave the method to you—you are an old enemy of her Royal Highness, I believe?—and I don’t stipulate for any special tenderness towards either of them. Afterwards you will take the proper steps to obtain Lady Philippa’s hand for me. I believe I alarmed the young lady yesterday by avowing my sentiments too openly; no doubt she thought such warmth incorrect in view of Princess Lida’s presence in the company; but you will do everything in due form. You hesitate? You think I am making a cat’s paw of you?” A grim smile crossed Cyril’s face. “I am willing to repeat before witnesses the orders I have given you, if you will call in Roburoff and your secretary.”
“Quite unnecessary.” Cyril had regained his usual calm. “You broke the heart of the woman who gave up everything for you, and now you want to throw away the toy for the sake of which you did it. But that you won’t do. I don’t pose as a moralist, but I have some sense of the fitness of things. At the rate you are going, it won’t be long before you are unfit to speak to a decent woman, and you expect me to give you my niece! Why, I should have scruples about marrying you to Princess Lida, if I had any responsibility in the matter, but her mother and you settled that between you, and you shall stick to it. If I am not mistaken, she will turn out a match for you. But at any rate, for your mother’s sake, I will see that her wishes on the subject are carried out.”
The fierce irony of the tone roused the King to something very like frenzy. “If I don’t marry your niece, I’ll make you sorry that you refused her to me,” he muttered, his lips twitching and his fingers picking nervously at his chin.
“The first word you say against her will be the signal for your own destruction,” said Cyril coldly. “I am not in the habit of speaking idly, and I warn you that you are still on the throne only because I have not cared to dethrone you. But if you are good enough to furnish me with a reason for taking action——”
“I don’t revenge myself upon women,” snarled the King, forgetting his threat of the moment before.
“Ah, you are young yet,” replied Cyril pleasantly. “Permit me to attend your Majesty to the door.”
In the anteroom Captain Roburoff, who had been amusing himself with trying to torment Mansfield by means of hints as to the King’s matrimonial intentions, jumped up in a hurry when his sovereign appeared. He expected a return to the elaborate ceremonial which had marked their entrance into the hotel, but King Michael strode out of the room without a word, neglecting all the precautions he had seen fit to adopt, and Mansfield breathed freely. It was evident that here was no accepted lover, and the refusal appeared to have been accompanied by a little wholesome plain speaking. On Cyril the impression left by the interview was one of unmitigated disgust.
“That Ernestine’s boy!” he muttered, as Prince Mirkovics had done before him. “Well, it’s a good thing that the young blackguard forgot himself so far as to threaten poor little Phil. It forces me to make things safe by cutting the ground from under his feet. So now to business!”