A Kiss for the King

by Barbara Cartland

  Reaching the table she smiled at a lady at her side and said,

  “I am so looking forward to visiting your perfume factory. I have been told of the delicious fragrance of those perfumes distilled in Sergei.”

  “We hope very much that you will like them, ma’am,” the lady replied.

  A woman of little importance, she was overcome to find herself talking intimately with the Princess.

  Anastasia looked again at the floral display in front of her. She saw what she was seeking! The base of the arrangement was composed almost entirely of red carnations.

  “I wonder,” she said in almost conspiratorial tones to the woman to whom she had been talking, “if I might take some of these beautiful red carnations? They have such a delightful fragrance.”

  She did not wait for an answer, but picked up a whole handful of the carnations from the table and put them against the white flowers of her bouquet.

  “Is not that pretty?” she exclaimed again in that ingenuous voice that made her actions seem natural and unpremeditated.

  “It is indeed very pretty, ma’am,” another lady remarked who was standing near, “and we are all delighted that you find our flowers so attractive.”

  “They are as beautiful as your country,” Anastasia said, “and it would be difficult to say anything more appreciative.”

  The windows that led to the balcony were now opened and Anastasia turned towards them to join the King, who had not followed her when she had moved across the room to admire the flowers.

  He glanced at the red and white bouquet she now held in her hand and, if he understood the significance of her action, he did not show it. But there was no doubt that the gesture was not wasted on the crowd outside.

  As Anastasia stepped on to the small platform that had been erected on the balcony to hold the two chairs for her and the King, a roar went up from the crowd.

  For a moment it seemed the usual full-throated acclamation they had received all along the route from the Palace. Then, as if by magic, scarlet appeared everywhere, scarlet flags, scarlet handkerchiefs, ties and pieces of bunting were being waved and those who were waving them appeared to shout more noisily and more vivaciously than the rest of the crowd.

  Anastasia and the King waved in response to the acclamation, and almost as soon as they were on the balcony the procession started to pass below them.

  There were carts and carriages of every sort and description, drays and floats drawn by men instead of horses. On them were beautiful girls dressed to represent traditional characters of Mauronian and Mediterranean history.

  There were arches and huge shells, stars and hearts, all made of flowers, and following the procession were more carriages filled with men and women in fancy dress for the battle.

  Flowers were thrown from the carriages and flowers were thrown by the crowd at the procession and at each other. The air seemed to be full of blossoms and Anastasia could smell their fragrance.

  It was all very gay, although occasionally there were scuffles in the crowd as someone who had been hit too hard in the face retaliated by throwing something heavier and more dangerous than a posy of flowers.

  But on the whole it was extremely good tempered and, when Anastasia said goodbye at the Chancellery door, she said with a sincerity it was impossible to doubt,

  “It has been more amusing and more fun than I can possibly express.”

  “You enjoyed yourself?” the King asked as they drove back towards the Palace.

  “I am so sorry that I shall have to wait another year before I can see another Battle of Flowers,” she said. “What will the people do tonight?”

  “There will be dancing, drinking and fireworks,” the King answered.

  Anastasia sighed.

  “It sounds wonderful! I wish we could go and dance.”

  “I am afraid that would be impossible.”

  “Supposing we wore fancy dress and were masked?” Anastasia suggested.

  “I cannot think your mother would consider it a good idea.”

  “I am afraid you are right,” Anastasia agreed reluctantly. “Why do ordinary people have so much more fun than we do?”

  “I wonder if they do?” the King answered. “Most of the year they have to work very hard.”

  “As we must also, if we are to do our job properly,” Anastasia replied.

  “And what work do you intend to do,” he asked, “apart from conventional engagements, such as the opening of a Town Hall or visiting a hospital?”

  She had a feeling that he was deliberately mocking her and she answered,

  “I cannot believe there are not a great many more things to do than that, but first I must get to know your people and understand them.”

  “Do you think that will be easy?” the King asked.

  “Why not? I have a feeling that people you find everywhere and in every class or circumstance are very much the same underneath. They all have their worries and their difficulties – they all want happiness.”

  They were nearing the Palace and the King turned towards her in the carriage to say,

  “You are very different from what I expected.”

  “What did you expect?” Anastasia asked. “Someone aloof, autocratic and empty-headed?”

  She remembered what the Prime Minister had said and added,

  “And, of course, with protruding teeth!”

  The King laughed.

  “Shall I tell you that your teeth are like pearls?”

  “It sounds rather like a phrase in the novelettes Mama will not allow me to read,” she said. “But if it is meant as a compliment, then I accept it with pleasure.”

  “You must have received plenty of compliments in England,” the King suggested.

  “Not many,” Anastasia answered, “so I am extremely greedy where they are concerned.”

  Again the King laughed and then they reached the Palace and there was no more chance of private conversation.

  Anastasia found that because she was to be married the following day she was not allowed to dine with the King but was to eat alone with her mother.

  The Grand Duchess took the opportunity of lecturing her at some length on her duty as regards her future subjects and her behaviour in general.

  “Do try to behave in a more circumspect manner, Anastasia,” she begged. “You know how impulsive you are and how you say whatever comes into your head without a thought for the consequences. That is not what is expected of a Royal Sovereign.”

  “I will try to think before I speak, Mama.”

  But while answering her mother, she was thinking actually of the Comtesse le Granmont, and wondering whether the King would see her during the evening.

  She could not help feeling depressed because the Comtesse was so very attractive and her looks were so obviously a complete contrast to her own.

  She felt she could understand a man finding those dark expressive eyes alluring and the red pouting lips very inviting.

  Anastasia thought of the King kissing them and felt in a sudden panic that her marriage was already a failure. What, compared to the Comtesse, had she to offer a man so experienced, so handsome, or indeed so raffish?

  The King and the Comtesse were, she thought, complementary to each other – both of them sophisticated, a man and a woman of the world, while she was only an ignorant girl who knew nothing and had seen little beyond the confines of Hampton Court Palace.

  She had a sudden impulse to fling her arms round her mother and beg for her help and guidance.

  But she knew the Grand Duchess would not understand and would in fact merely reiterate what she had already said.

  ‘All I have been told,’ Anastasia thought, ‘is that it is my duty to obey the King, and to shut my eyes to anything which I am not expected to see.’

  She could not help remembering the manner in which the Comtesse had looked up at King Maximilian and the caressing note in her voice when she had spoken to him.

  ‘She loves him and he l
oves her!’ Anastasia was convinced, and felt her heart sink dismally at the idea.

  Now, as she moved towards the dressing table to sit down so that Olivia could arrange her veil and headdress, she said involuntarily,

  “I feel as if I am in a dream and this cannot really be happening to me!”

  Olivia picked up the beautiful wreath that Anastasia was to wear on her head.

  It was fashioned of diamonds in the shape of flowers and so skilfully and cleverly contrived that the flowers and leaves moved a little with the wearer so that they almost looked as if they were alive.

  Then Olivia looked over her shoulder as if to make sure there was no one else in the room before she said in a low voice,

  “I have something to tell Your Royal Highness.”

  Anastasia was suddenly alert.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I have not told Your Royal Highness before, but the young man I am to marry is employed at the French Embassy.”

  Anastasia did not reply, but she raised her eyes to the maid’s face.

  “When I left for England, Your Royal Highness, Pedro was second valet to His Excellency the French Ambassador. While I was away he was promoted and he is now First Valet.”

  Still Anastasia waited.

  “He went with His Excellency to Marseilles,” Olivia went on, “from where he has just returned. There were meetings – secret meetings with officials who had come from Paris.”

  “Does Pedro know what these meetings were about?” Anastasia enquired.

  “No, Your Royal Highness, but he suspected they deeply concerned our country.”

  “Why should he suspect that?”

  “There are things that he has heard in the last month or so, trifling in themselves, and yet Pedro is sure that they indicate a danger to Maurona.”

  “What do you think might happen?”

  Olivia drew in her breath.

  “The French wish to annex Maurona, Your Royal Highness. Pedro is sure of it!”

  Anastasia turned to look at herself in the mirror.

  She could see her own face, white and serious, and behind her Olivia’s anxious, worried eyes.

  “We shall have to be absolutely sure,” Anastasia remarked after a moment.

  “Of course, Your Royal Highness, Pedro knows that, but he is convinced that nothing will occur before the British ship which brought you here leaves the harbour.”

  “That is tonight!” Anastasia said, as if she spoke to herself.

  “Tonight?” Olivia echoed.

  “Yes,” Anastasia replied. “The Grand Duchess will leave immediately after the wedding. The ship’s Captain is not satisfied with the repairs carried out in Gibraltar. He wants to put in at Marseilles, and it has been arranged for the Grand Duchess to travel that far in the Warrior and then take a train across France.”

  Olivia did not reply and Anastasia said,

  “Ask your young man if he learns any more to let you know at once.”

  As she spoke, she wondered wildly what she could do if Pedro’s information was alarming. Then she thought of Captain Aznar and knew that he would help her.

  “There is one thing more, Your Royal Highness,” Olivia said, “although I do not know if I should speak of it.”

  “You know that anything which concerns the future of your country is of importance and interest to me. As I asked you to do when we were aboard the Warrior, please tell me everything you know.”

  Olivia looked down nervously at the wreath she held in her hands.

  “It is just, that Pedro has been told by the servants in the Embassy, that the Comtesse le Granmont has been coming to the Palace at night to be alone with His Majesty!”

  Anastasia drew in her breath.

  “Where do they meet?”

  “In His Majesty’s private room. It can be reached through the garden by a door at the side of the Palace, which is used by no one else. There is also a door in the garden wall through which the Comtesse enters – and only the King has a key to it.”

  “Thank you for telling me,” Anastasia said in a quiet, unemotional voice. “I hope, Olivia, you are in constant touch with your young man and that you will see him after the wedding.”

  “I shall try to do so, Your Royal Highness,” Olivia answered, “but – ”

  Whatever she was about to add was left unsaid, for at that moment the Grand Duchess wafted into the bedroom.

  “Are you not ready, Anastasia?” she asked sharply. “Time is getting on. You should be dressed by now.”

  “There is only my wreath and veil, Mama,” Anastasia replied.

  She had chosen to wear off the face a Honiton lace veil such as the Queen’s elder daughter, the Princess Royal, had worn on her marriage to Prince Frederick of Prussia.

  It was very becoming, and the sparkling diamonds on Anastasia’s fair hair made her look like a star twinkling in the evening sky.

  She put on her lace gloves that fastened at the wrist, picked up the bouquet, which had been brought to her room, and noted with relief that it was fashioned not of carnations but of white orchids.

  Finally, when her long train was fixed to her shoulders, the pages were brought into the bedroom to lift it up and carry it carefully as they followed Anastasia and the Grand Duchess down the wide staircase towards the hall of the Palace.

  As Anastasia had no father to give her away, Sir Frederick Falkland, the British Ambassador, was to escort her up the aisle.

  The Grand Duchess went ahead of them in a closed carriage, and Anastasia and Sir Frederick were in a magnificent coach emblazoned with the Royal Crown.

  The coach had particularly large glass windows on either side of it so that the crowds could see her.

  It was drawn by four white horses and followed by a squadron of the Mauronian Cavalry. In their dashing helmets with plumed feathers floating in the breeze, their polished breastplates and high boots, they looked magnificent.

  The whole entourage, Anastasia could not help thinking, really looked as if it had stepped out of an illustrated storybook.

  The route was lined with soldiers and the crowds seemed even greater than they had before.

  Everywhere there was a profusion of Union Jacks, which caused the British Ambassador to remark,

  “Your reception is very gratifying, ma’am, and it is obvious the Mauronians have a partiality for the British. I know that Her Majesty the Queen will be delighted with the report I shall be sending her about the enthusiasm of the populace.”

  “They seem to be a happy people,” Anastasia replied. “Let us hope they remain so.”

  “That may depend upon you, ma’am,” the Ambassador remarked.

  “I hope I shall have a chance to get to know the people before anything occurs,” Anastasia answered.

  She spoke without thinking.

  “What do you think might occur?” Sir Frederick asked sharply. “Has anyone suggested there might be trouble?”

  Anastasia was sorry she had spoken. This was not the moment, she thought, to tell Sir Frederick of her fears, and besides, she had the feeling he would be little or no help if there was a confrontation with the French.

  She knew Sir Frederick was waiting for her answer and she replied evasively,

  “There seems to be trouble in so many countries, Sir Frederick, even our own, that I was just hoping that everything would run smoothly here, until I have had time to settle down, so to speak.”

  “Yes, of course, I can understand that, ma’am,” Sir Frederick replied, and Anastasia was careful not to say anything else controversial before they reached the Cathedral.

  The cheering was so loud as she stepped from the carriage to find her four pages waiting for her, that it was hard to hear the Church bells pealing above the noise.

  But in contrast to the cheers and the sunshine the Cathedral itself seemed quiet and solemn.

  The pages arranged themselves on each side of her train, and because she had no friends in Maurona there were no bridesma
ids, only one Matron-of-Honour, the daughter of the Prime Minister.

  She was a pretty dark girl who looked very attractive in a dress of rose pink, carrying a bouquet of the special roses from which the perfume of Sergei was distilled.

  Slowly Anastasia moved up the aisle preceded by the Archbishop who had greeted her at the door and a number of the clergy in magnificently embroidered vestments.

  As she passed the guests, the women swept to the ground in a curtsy, but on her mother’s instructions Anastasia kept her head bowed.

  Only when she reached the Chancel did she look from under her eyelashes at the Royalty who were seated on either side in pews that on other occasions accommodated the choir and cathedral clergy.

  She had already seen a list of those who were to be present and had found there was no one whom she had met before at Windsor Castle.

  None of them looked particularly interesting and she found herself wishing she had just one or two relatives of her own who could have been there on this, the most important day of her life.

  Then ahead, at the altar steps, she saw the King.

  He was looking even more resplendent than he had yesterday on her arrival.

  He was wearing full dress military uniform, and it became him so well that Anastasia found herself thinking he was not only the most attractive but also quite the most handsome man she had ever seen.

  Then she remembered that the Comtesse le Granmont would be watching him and perhaps he would be thinking of her.

  As they knelt side by side and the Archbishop blessed them, Anastasia prayed,

  ‘Please God – help me to make the King happy – it will not be easy – but I will try to be good – so help me – please, please help me!’

  In the State Coach, which conveyed them very slowly from the Cathedral to the Palace, the King said as their hands moved automatically to acknowledge the cheering crowds,

  “One blessing, Anastasia, is that we shall never have to go through this again!”

  “Are you not enjoying yourself?” Anastasia asked him in consternation.

  “If you want the truth, I find such pomp and circumstance extremely boring,” the King answered.