by J. C. Snaith
CHAPTER XXI
THE EXPECTED GUEST
In the face of this manifesto by the powers, there was only one courseto adopt. That course was submission. Fitz, while professing tosympathise with my embarrassment, was too cynical to help me much. Thehospitality of the Hall might be more regal in its character, but then,if the august visitor came to us, think what a snug family party weshould be!
The King was due at Southampton that day week, and his dutifulson-in-law proposed to meet him there. In spite of his casual andnonchalant airs, he had an inborn instinct for behaving well on greatoccasions. Ferdinand the Twelfth having affirmed his determination tovisit our shores, it seemed to Fitz that it behoved all concerned tomake the best of a bad business. It was a sad bore that he should havedecided to do any such thing, but at the same time it might prove anamusing and possibly an instructive experience to have the victor ofRodova dwelling among us in Middleshire.
For Mrs. Arbuthnot these were great days. Almost the first thing shedid was to borrow an under-footman from Yorkshire. She also provoked astate of anarchy in the kitchen by engaging for a fortnight a cordonbleu lately in the service of a nobleman. Our much-maligned andoccasionally inebriated household goddess was fairly good for plaindishes, but certainly not for such as were to be set before a king.Upon inquiry of his daughter as to what dishes would make the bestappeal to the royal palate, the Princess was fain to declare that ifthe victor of Rodova might be said to have a weakness for anything inparticular it was for tomatoes.
It was my privilege to be present when, one morning at breakfast, themandate was issued to Joseph Jocelyn De Vere that for the time being itwas necessary that he should seek other quarters.
"I am really so sorry," said his sister in a birdlike voice, "I amreally so dreadfully sorry. But what can we do? Two rather importantmembers of the Illyrian Cabinet are coming from Blaenau to see dearSonia, and of course it is only right that we should put them up."
"That is what all that talk about Count This and Baron That amounts to,is it?" said the young fellow, coolly. "Well, now, Mops, you don'tsuppose I am going to put myself to the trouble of clearin' out for acouple of bally foreigners, do you? This box suits me very well, andthe Coach and Horses is quite a second-rate sort of pub."
"You can have your meals here, of course, but it would hardly be rightto send foreigners of distinction to the village inn."
"Foreigners of distinction! Why, it would take the King himself touproot me."
Such a moment was too much for Mrs. Arbuthnot's dramatic sense.
"Well, it so happens," said she, with a carefully calculated unconcern,"it is the King himself."
Jodey laid down his coffee-cup.
"Tell that to the Marines!" said he.
"If you don't believe me, you had better ask Sonia. Of course, it is atremendous secret. The visit is a strictly private one, and hisMajesty's _incognito_ must be rigidly preserved."
"I should rather think so," said the sceptical youth. "I expect Fitzis pulling your leg."
"Oh no, he isn't," said Mrs. Arbuthnot. "Why should he, pray? TheKing arrives at Southampton on Thursday, and Nevil will meet him there.His Chancellor, Baron von Schalk, accompanies him, and they are comingstraight to us."
"If it don't beat cock-fightin'!"
"It is really quite natural that the dear old King should wish to seehis daughter," said Mrs. Arbuthnot, with pensive dignity.
But it is only fair to Mrs. Arbuthnot to say that her dramaticannouncement had wrought sensibly upon her brother.
"I suppose there is no help for it," he said, cheerfully. "I expect Ishall have to clear out. But I daresay Brasset will find me a crib ifI explain how it is."
"There must be not a word of explanation to anybody," said Mrs.Arbuthnot, with an official air. "Not a soul must know it is the King."
"Brasset will be all right. He's an awfully diplomatic beggar; been an_attache_ at Paris, and so on. You can trust him to keep a secret."
Mrs. Arbuthnot pondered. The gravity of her mien was enormous.
"Well, if you tell Reggie Brasset, you must give me your word of honourthat you positively won't speak of it to another living being.Strictly _incog._, you know, and if it got out there might be seriousinternational complications. Of course I had to write and tell Mama,else she would never have let me have Thomas. Besides, she isconsulting Uncle Harry upon one or two points of etiquette."
"Oh, is she! Evidently going to be a devilish well-kept secret thisis!"
"I should think it is. Why, I haven't even told Mary Catesby, yet Isuppose I shall have to, because she is frightfully well up in thatsort of thing."
"If you don't disdain a word of advice from a lowly quarter," said I,modestly, "you will leave Mary Catesby out of your calculations."
My only guerdon was the flash of an imperious china-blue eye. Otherreward there was none.
"Seems to me," said Jodey, "we had better have Brasset to dine with uspretty often. You will want somebody to talk to the old buffer. I'mnot much of a hand at conversation myself."
"No, Joseph," I ventured to remark, "but you are good and brave andmodest. How goes the ballad that Irene so charmingly discourses? 'Begood, sweet child, and let who will be clever.'"
I desisted, for from two points of the compass a double-distilledVane-Anstruther gaze was trained upon me. My relation by marriagedrank his coffee and fished out a vile old pipe, and lit it amid themost magniloquent silence to which I have ever been a contributor.
But events were moving apace. The passing of each day brought ussensibly nearer the all-important event. With advice and aid from herRoyal Highness, Mrs. Arbuthnot proceeded to set her house in order withno uncertainty. The King liked a room with a south aspect, itappeared, and a bath-room leading out of his dressing-room. By aspecial dispensation of providence these things happened to beforthcoming. Red was the predominant hue of the carpet andbed-hangings in the chamber of state. The picturesque fancy occurredto Mrs. Arbuthnot that purple would be more appropriate. Her RoyalHighness thought it really didn't matter, but Joseph Jocelyn De Vere,who was called in to arbitrate, concurred with Mrs. Arbuthnot. Thebill from Waring's was L65 12_s._ 9_d._ less five per cent. discountfor cash.
On the morning of Wednesday a paper of instructions arrived from UncleHarry _via_ Doughty Bridge, Yorks. It seemed to attach chiefsignificance to the wine, which should be of the best quality andabundant in quantity. Deponent adjured his niece to be especiallycareful about the madeira, as all the royalties he had had the honourto meet at table were extremely partial to that beverage. "I amsending a case of ours in the care of Thomas, unknown to your father,"was interspersed in the form of a note in the maternal hand. Ineffect, Uncle Harry's instructions might be said to resolve themselvesinto as much madeira and as little fuss as possible.
Fitz also was not inactive. He had accepted the impending visit of hisfather-in-law, wholly distasteful to him as there was reason to believeit was, in quite the temper of the philosopher. Since the King'senemies were so rife in our part of the world, the first thing he didwas to take the Chief Constable into his confidence. He then went upto town, spent two hours in Whitehall at the feet of more than oneGamaliel, called upon the General Manager of the Great Mid-WesternRailway and arranged for a special train to be run through fromSouthampton to Middleham, and rounded up his day with the purchase of anew silk hat at Scott's.
The historic Thursday came at last, and shortly after seven A.M. Mr.Nevil Fitzwaren set forth to Southampton, arrayed in a very smartNewmarket coat, patent leather boots and his new silk hat. Even when Ihad witnessed his setting out in the full panoply of war, I couldhardly realise that we were on the threshold of so high an occasion. Ihope I do not attach an undue importance to the kings of the earth.But even an insignificant unit of a constitutional country, withperhaps something of a slight personal bias in the direction ofdemocracy, could not allay a thrill of lively anticipation of what theday would bring forth.
According to the journals of the age, Ferdinand the Twelfth stood foran advanced type of despot. His word was law in Illyria. I spent halfmy morning in the hunting up and perusal of a recent number of one ofthe magazines, in which appeared a character-study of this famous manby one who claimed to know him intimately. Therein he figured as abenevolent reactionary; as one who in the fullest sense of the termbelieved himself to be the father of his people. He dispensed justicealike to the rich and the poor; but whether he was right or whether hewas wrong, he allowed no appeal from his verdicts.
In the opinion of the writer of the article, the King of Illyria wasone of the strongest men of his epoch. Poised as he had been all hislife on the crater of a volcano, which issued continual threats oferuption, he had abated no point of his public or domestic policy inresponse to the rumblings below. He believed himself to possess aninfallible knowledge of that which was good for his people, and he wasprone to dispense his universal panacea in liberal doses. Yet hediffered fundamentally from other potentates of a similar faith, as,for instance, his Russian nephew and his Turkish and Persiancontemporaries, inasmuch as he had faith in the essential virtue of hissubjects.
In spite of the fact that the modern distemper of anarchy had infectedhis kingdom, and had led to three cowardly attempts on his life,Ferdinand the Twelfth had furnished a convincing proof of his strengthof character by declining to saddle his people with the responsibilityof what he chose to consider as isolated acts of fanaticism. From theearliest times any individual or body of freemen of the Kingdom ofIllyria had enjoyed the right of personal access to their sovereign.He was ready to give them advice in the most commonplace affairs. Inmany ways he was more like an enlightened friend and neighbour ofliberal views than a despotic ruler whose word was law. It was saidthat he would advise a working-man about the choice of a calling forhis son, or he would fix the amount of a daughter's dowry. "To takethe King's opinion" had become a proverbial phrase throughout the land;and it was said that in the case of two farmers haggling over the priceof a horse, whenever the phrase was used it received a literalinterpretation.
The consequence of this accessibility was an abundant popularity amongall classes in the state. In living up to the letter of the trulyroyal tradition that every Illyrian enjoyed the King's friendship, hehad conserved his power, and in spite of many a sinister growl inconsequence of severe taxation and many flagrant abuses of authority,the volcano had remained inactive throughout a long and not ingloriousreign. His campaign in the 'sixties against the might of Austria,culminating in the historic day of Rodova, had been a wonder for wisemen, and had only been rendered possible by the almost superstitiousfaith of all classes of a comparatively small community.
In his final survey of the character and attainments of one of the mostsignificant figures of the age, the writer of the article indulged inthe prophecy that with Ferdinand the Twelfth a symbol of true kingshipwould pass away. The forces of modernism were too strong in Illyria,as elsewhere in Europe, to be held longer at bay. It was only by amiracle that the doors of the historic castle at Blaenau had beenbarred against them so long. Only an extraordinary personal power andan unflinching strength of will had kept them unforced. For none coulddeny that the sublime example of trusting all men and fearing none hadgone hand in hand with the gravest abuses; yet, whatever was theirnature, it could at least be said that they owed their origin to noignoble source. A king in every true essential, Ferdinand the Twelfthhad the defects of his qualities. The standard of well-being inIllyria was high, but it was by no means widely dispersed. As is thecase within the borders of all despotisms, the rich were the rich andthe poor were the poor in Illyria. In many respects the condition ofthe people recalled that of France before the Revolution; and it wouldbe a source of surprise to none who were in a position to observe thepresent situation if, at the eleventh hour, the fate of Louis XVIovertook this present uncommonly able and uncommonly misguided ruler.
By the light of what this day was to bring forth, I made an anxiousstudy of this document. If I cannot say that I derived reassurancefrom it, at least it did nothing to diminish my curiosity. It was tobe our privilege to entertain a type of true kingliness under our roof.If one of those culinary disasters occurred to which even the bestregulated households are susceptible, and we were constrained to offerburnt soup or an underdone cutlet to the father of his people, it wasto be hoped that his trembling host and hostess would not have toforfeit their heads.
As far as the King's daughter was concerned, it had seemed to us thatthe announcement of his coming had brought unhappiness. Her alert,half-humorous, half-malicious interest in everything around her whichmade her charm, had seemed to give place to the brooding preoccupationof one who felt a deep distrust of coming events. In particular Ithought this was shown in her relation to her small daughter.
Prior to the receipt of the King's letter, Mrs. Fitz had shown no unduedevotion to this piece of mischief incarnate who answered to the nameof Marie, who defied her governess, bullied the servants and thedomestic pets, and who fiercely contended in season and out with MissLucinda, a milder and more legitimate household despot. But by thetime we had come to this historic Thursday, it was as though her mothercould not bear this elf out of her sight. It was, of course, naturalthat she should ardently wish that Marie should behave nicely to herGrandpapa, but there was something almost tragic in this new anxietyconcerning her. There could be no doubt its root struck deep.
To those who understood her ways and moods, it was clear that somethingweighed upon her heavily. It was even in the expression of her face;there was a strange decline of her vivacity, and a slackening ofinterest in the things around her. By the time Thursday came sheseemed most unhappy.
The Crackanthorpe had no fixture for that day, and in the light ofafter events, perhaps, it had been well if they had. All the morningshe was curiously silent and _distraite_. She divided most of her timebetween the stables and the society of her horses and the nursery andthe society of her singularly wilful and intractable daughter. Atluncheon she refused every dish, contenting herself with a glass ofwater and a piece of dry toast. Not a word did she speak until nearthe end of the meal, when quite suddenly she clasped her hands to herhead, and exclaimed in a deep guttural voice, hardly recognisable asher own--
"I t'ink I will go mad!"
There was something indescribably tragic in the exclamation. I roseand withdrew from the room, and made a sign to the servants to follow.Mrs. Arbuthnot was left alone with the unhappy lady, and as I went outI remarked to her that I was going into the library.
About ten minutes afterwards, Irene came to me there. She was lookingpale and anxious and not a little alarmed.
"She is suffering dreadfully, poor thing," she said, not without asuspicion of tears. "She is almost out of her reason, and she ismaking a frantic effort to control herself."
"Can you gather what the trouble is?"
"She has a terrible fear of something. What it is I don't know. Shekeeps talking in Illyrian."
"Is it her father's coming?"
"Yes, it has upset her dreadfully."
"Is she afraid of him?"
"Yes, pathetically afraid. But there is also something else she fears."
"I suppose she is thinking of her husband and her child?"
"Yes, poor soul! How I wish we could help her!"
"It is not easy to help the children of destiny."
"Never until now have I realised what a dreadful life it is thesepeople lead. She is suffering terribly. Do you know of anybody whounderstands the stars?"
"The stars!"
"Yes, she says she wants to know what the stars are doing. It isridiculous superstition, of course, and I told her so. But she shookher head in the oddest way, and she looked so tragic and unhappy thatshe nearly made me cry."
"Isn't there an astrologer in Bond Street? But it's a hundred to onehe's a charlatan."
"They all are, of course."
"Well, it is utterly ridiculous, but I am afraid nothing can be donewith her until she has consulted somebody. Give her your UncleTheodore's address and let her catch the 2.20 to town, and she will beback before the King comes."
"She can't go alone. In her present state of mind somebody must bewith her. Can't you persuade her to wait until she has seen herfather?"
"She is suffering so much that it would be a mercy to relieve thestrain in any way."
"Very well, I will take her to see old Theodore. I will send him awire to tell him that a lady is coming to consult him about the stars;and also I had better telephone to Coverdale to let him know what'shappening. It is hardly wise to go to London without an escort. Thenthere is the monarch to be arranged for. But Fitz will wire theauthorities direct from Southampton the approximate time of hisarrival."
Luckily Coverdale was at the Sessions Hall. But when I informed him ofthe Princess's sudden determination to go to town by the 2.20 he verynearly fused the wires. "How the blank did she suppose that with herblank father due at Middleham at 6.50 the Middleshire Constabularycould arrange for her to go gallivanting to the blank metropolis thatblank afternoon?" Without venturing in any way to enlighten theofficial nescience or to mitigate its temperature, I attempted withinfinite tact and patience to explain, yet withholding all reference tothe stars as I did so, that in the circumstances there was no help forit. This being a matter upon which the Princess had fully made up hermind, it behoved the Middleshire Constabulary to defer to her wisheswith the best possible grace.
"Well, my friend," said the Chief Constable, "let me tell you, you arerunning a devil of a risk. But I shall communicate with Scotland Yard,and ask them to look after you. Still, as the King arrives thisevening, the four men you have with you had better remain on duty atthe house. And," concluded the head of the Middleshire Constabulary,"I would to God the whole blank, blank crowd----!!"
A married man, a father of a family, and a county member somewhathurriedly replaced the receiver.