by Joan Wolf
At her spot at the end of the line, all Charity received from the endless stream of guests was an indifferent greeting before they moved off to find someone more interesting to talk to. For her part, however, she was aware that in some way she represented the Prince, and so she stood as straight and tall as she could and smiled pleasantly at the sea of faces that sailed by her.
After an hour, the reception line broke up and the crowd spilled over into the Pavilion's gallery, a room of immense length perfectly suited to a party of this size. A Chinese canopy of trelliswork hung with bells surrounded its central section. The brass and iron chimneypiece was worked in imitation of bamboo, and on either end of the gallery was a Chinese staircase made of cast iron and bamboo, with glass doors beneath. Unlike the salon, this room was amply provided with seating. Sofas in the Chinese and Japanese style were scattered everywhere, and footmen circulated with glasses of champagne.
Charity found an out-of-the-way post next to a gilded Chinese cabinet and watched the Prince as he made his way around the room with Lydia on his arm. It fascinated her just to observe him as he talked to other people—the direct nod he would give, the turn of his head as he listened.
On his arm, Lydia sparkled like a diamond. At last she had her chance to parade her royal bridegroom before her world, and her beauty and charm and confidence proclaimed her a perfect prince's consort.
Never before had Charity been envious of her beautiful sister, but envy her now she did. She hated herself for feeling jealous, but she couldn't seem to help it.
A voice said reproachfully, "I haven't seen you mingling with the guests, Lady Charity. You must hold up your end, you know."
She recognized the voice with its slight accent and turned to smile ruefully at Franz. "No one wants to talk to me, Count. I'm too young."
His brilliant blue eyes flicked over her new dress. "You look quite grown up to me," he said. "And very pretty."
"Thank you," she said a little mournfully. "But Lydia looks beautiful."
For a moment both of them looked at the exquisite figure dressed in green silk standing beside the Prince as he spoke to Lord Castlereagh. Then Franz said, "Your sister is extremely beautiful, that is so, but in your own way, Lady Charity, so are you."
Charity laughed at the compliment. "It is very kind of you to say so, Count. Have you been doing your duty and talking to people?"
Franz was standing underneath a sconce, and the light reflected off his burnished gold hair as he nodded. "Indeed I have, and I am ready for an intermission. I understand there are refreshments in the drawing room. Would you care to accompany me?"
"I would love to," she said sincerely. "It’s so hot in here that I’m afraid I might faint. And I never faint."
"I have been told that the Regent has a habit of overheating his rooms," Franz said as he offered her his elegant black-clad arm. "Perhaps it will be cooler in the drawing room."
Charity rested her hand on his arm and went with him. When they reached the drawing room they found that a long table had been set with an immense number of silver dishes filled with food. Smaller tables were scattered about where people could sit and eat their supper.
The drawing room was not as crowded as the gallery, but it was still quite hot. While Franz went to get her some food, Charity sat at one of the tables and contemplated the gilt-bordered white walls decorated with Chinese pictures, lanterns, and flying dragons.
"My, the Regent has certainly fallen in love with things Chinese," she said to Franz as he rejoined her with two plates.
"Chinese decoration is very popular in Europe as well," he said. "There are some lovely Chinese rooms at Schonbrunn." He set a plate in front of her and signaled to the footman who was serving champagne. When the man came over, Franz took a glass of champagne and put it in front of Charity, then got another for himself.
Charity looked uncertainly at the glass before her. She had been drinking punch all evening. "I don't know if Mama would approve of champagne," she said.
Franz's eyes became even more brilliant than usual. "But Mama is not here," he said.
Charity shot him a mischievous glance. "An excellent point." She picked up the glass and sipped tentatively.
Franz said incredulously, "Is this the first time you have tasted champagne?"
Charity nodded and took another sip. "I like it," she said, pleased with her new discovery.
He laughed, and they both began to eat, chatting easily.
They were finishing their food when the Prince and Lydia came into the room. When the other diners saw who had just entered, they all rose and bowed. The Prince smiled and gestured for them to resume their seats, then he escorted Lydia over to his cousin's table. "Do you mind if we join you?"
Franz gestured to the two empty chairs and said, "Of course not." Two lackeys scurried to hold the chairs for the Prince and Lydia, and Franz asked his cousin, "Do you want some food?"
"I don't want anything, thank you," the Prince replied, "but Lady Lydia is a trifle hungry I believe."
"Take a rest, Gus," Franz said easily. "I'll get a plate for Lady Lydia," and he moved off toward the food table.
"How much longer is this likely to go on, do you think?" Charity asked. From the expression in her voice, it was clear that she hoped it would be over soon.
"No one can leave until the Regent does," the Prince replied gloomily.
Lydia's laugh sounded like clear bells. "Nonsense. It is a lovely party and I wish it could go on forever."
The Prince and Charity exchanged a look. Lydia accepted a glass of champagne from the deeply bowing footman and took a sip. She looked so incredibly lovely as she sat there that jealousy twisted inside Charity once more. She looked from Lydia's perfect face to the high, white breasts that were revealed by her low-cut green silk gown, and took another swallow of champagne.
For the first time, Lydia noticed the glass in front of her younger sister. "You aren't drinking champagne?" she said in horror.
"Lady Charity is having her first glass of champagne at my insistence." It was Franz, returning with a plate of food for Lydia.
It was actually Charity's second glass, but she didn't think Lydia had to know that.
Lydia took a dainty bite of her food and waved to someone across the room. Franz said something amusing to her and she turned her head to answer him. The Prince said to Charity, "I saw you valiantly holding up one of the Chinese cabinets, but there was no chance to come and speak to you. I'm sorry."
"That's all right," she replied, instantly cheered by his apology. He had noticed her after all. She saw him surreptitiously stretch his neck as if his neckcloth was too tight, and said, "Are you as hot as I am?"
"It's simply awful." He looked gravely at her new dress. "At least you don't have to wear a coat and a smothering neckcloth. You actually look cool in that pretty white dress."
Charity smiled radiantly. "Maybe China is hot and the Prince is trying to imitate the climate as well as the decoration."
The Prince laughed. He looked so nice when he laughed, she thought. He looked young. "Oh well," he said. "I expect I can survive it—for the sake of Jura."
Franz said, "Doesn't Lady Charity look lovely?"
"Very," the Prince said.
Charity could feel herself flushing with embarrassment.
"That hairstyle is very good on you, Charity," Lydia said graciously. "It gives you height."
Franz said, "Do you dance, Lady Charity?"
She looked at him in alarm. "A little."
"We shall have to dance together one of these days. You are a perfect height for me."
There was a strangely caressing note in his voice, and his blue eyes were full of admiration.
Franz is flirting with me, she thought in astonishment.
"Gus will have a ball once we get to Jura and you can dance with me then," Franz said.
"Charity is not yet out." There was a sharp note in Lydia's voice that made Charity look at her in surprise.
&
nbsp; After Lydia had finished her supper, the four of them returned to the gallery. At midnight the Regent took leave of his guests, and shortly after that, to Lydia's extreme displeasure, the Prince also went upstairs to bed.
7
The engaged couple and their respective families remained one more day in Brighton as guests of the Regent, then returned to London. During the ride home, Princess Caterina discoursed at great length to her son about the Regent's hospitality and the flattering attention he had shown her. Apparently her opinion of the "fat prince" had changed. In truth, she was just the sort of voluptuous older woman whom the Regent had always admired, and he had flirted with her shamelessly.
The Princess also voiced her approval of Lydia. "That one is not only beautiful, she understands the superiority of her position. She will not embarrass you, Augustus."
The Prince, who was profoundly relieved to get away from the overheated stuffiness of the Pavilion, said, "Thank you, Mama."
The princess next looked at Franz. "I understand you received a letter from Austria while we were in Brighton, Franz. How are your dear mama and papa?"
"Very well, thank you, Princess," Franz replied.
The princess had the whole of the front-facing carriage seat to herself, while the two men sat opposite her. At Franz's words, the Prince turned his head sharply and looked at his cousin. "I didn't know you had received a letter. Did your father say anything about the treaty?"
Franz replied in a mild voice, "You can hardly expect him to view Jura's situation in regard to Austria in the same way you do, Gus. He has lived in Vienna for the last ten years. My father does not regard Austria as a threat to Jura's independence and he thinks it is a mistake to introduce England into Jura as you have done."
With a rustle of deep green taffeta, Princess Caterina sat upright and said indignantly, "Those Austrians have taken for themselves the crown of Lombardy and Venice. They will look to take Jura next. I think Augustus is right to make this treaty."
"I agree with you, Aunt," Franz said soothingly. "I am merely telling Gus how my father views the situation."
The princess leaned back against the blue velvet squabs of the coach and said contemptuously, "Frederick has been seduced by the von Herzogs."
"That is not true." There was an unusually sharp edge in Franz's flexible voice. "Prince von Herzog was extraordinarily kind to my father and me when Jura was occupied by the French."
The princess indicated her disagreement by a sniff. "Watch out, Augustus," she said to her son. "Prince von Herzog will be scheming with Frederick to find a way to throw you out so that he can put an Austrian puppet in your place."
Franz went rigid.
The Prince glanced at his cousin's profile and said sternly, "Mama, that is a terrible thing to say. Uncle Frederick may not agree with me, but that doesn't make him a traitor."
The princess sniffed again.
The Prince reached out, laid a hand on his cousin's tense forearm, and said quietly, "I am sorry that your father doesn't agree with my strategy, Franz, but be assured that I can understand his disagreement without suspecting him of treason."
Franz turned and looked at him. His blue eyes were brilliant. "Can you? I’m glad to hear that, Gus."
The Prince looked at him for a moment in silence, then he removed his hand, leaned his head back against the velvet cushion, and said wearily, "I cannot describe to you how anxious I am to get home."
"We should be there in two more hours," Franz said.
The corner of the Prince's mouth quirked. "I was talking about Jura."
A mail coach passed them going in the opposite direction and a cloud of dust floated in the open window of the chaise. The princess wielded her fan vigorously and said, "I too received a letter while we were at Brighton and you will be happy to know, Augustus, that my father writes to tell me that all of the Vecchios will be at your wedding."
The Prince thought of the vast array of his mother's incredibly arrogant Venetian family and repressed a shudder.
At his shoulder, he heard Franz murmur, "Won't that be nice?"
"I thought you would be glad," the princess said complacently as she folded up her fan.
The Prince exchanged a glance with his cousin, but neither man was foolish enough to say what he really thought.
Franz turned to Lydia and said with amusement, "You should have seen Gus's face when his mother announced that all of her family would be coming to the wedding."
"Was he upset?" Lydia inquired. "I thought the Vecchios were an extremely noble Venetian family. I should think he would be glad of their attendance."
"They are stupendously noble," Franz replied. "They even number a doge or two among their ancestors. As every one of them will be sure to tell you—again and again and again."
The two of them were walking along one of the paths in Hyde Park. It was five o'clock in the afternoon, the heat of the day had dissipated, and they had decided on the spur of the moment to leave the phaeton with their groom and walk for a while along the pedestrian paths.
During the season, the park at this hour would be filled with members of the ton, riding and driving and walking, out to see and be seen. It was July, however, and Franz and Lydia were virtually alone as they strolled along a pretty wooded path near the lake.
As had happened so often before, the Prince was busy and Franz had been left to escort Lydia; a duty, he assured her, that he prized most highly. For her part, Lydia found Franz much easier to talk to than the Prince and would have been perfectly happy to accept him as a substitute if she had not felt slighted by the Prince's seeming lack of interest in her.
She said now, "Mama would be scandalized if she knew we were walking together without my maid to chaperone me."
The sun shining through the trees dappled the shaded walk in front of them with patches of sunlight, picking out in particular a patch of purple-red foxglove that grew on the left side of the path. Franz said with amusement, "Your maid did not come with us in the phaeton."
"Which is precisely why I should not have got out of it," Lydia retorted.
He turned his head to look at her. "Are you afraid of me?" The amusement was still in his voice.
She lifted her chin, which was framed by the green bow of her satin and tulle bonnet, and looked back. "Should I be?"
They passed the patch of foxglove and entered on a section of the path where the trees were thicker and the sunlight more scattered. In the woods to their right, a squirrel scurried up a tree, startling a bird, which took flight screaming its protest.
Franz scanned the face Lydia had lifted to him, from her forehead, to her eyes, to her mouth, and there his eyes stopped. He said in a slightly deeper voice than usual, "My dear, a woman as beautiful as you are should always be afraid when she is alone with a man."
Lydia's long lashes lowered to screen her eyes. "But you are a gentleman," she said.
Franz laughed softly. "Even gentlemen can be tempted, my dear Lydia."
She was silent, her eyes on the path in front of them.
He said to her profile, "We are to be cousins after all. Surely I may call you Lydia."
"The Prince calls me Lady Lydia," she said.
"Gus does not know you as well as I do."
They walked side by side in silence, each excruciatingly aware of the other, then Lydia said, "Every time we have an engagement to do something together, he sends you to take his place."
The path before them suddenly opened up to a view of the Serpentine. The still lake water glittered in the late-afternoon sun.
"There has been quite a lot to do in regard to the treaty," Franz said in excuse of his cousin. "Gus has been busy with matters of state."
A small branch lay across the path and as Lydia stepped over it daintily she said, "Surely he could have found the time for a drive in the park!"
Abruptly Franz stopped walking, and, surprised, Lydia stopped with him. He removed her hand from its correct position on his forearm and turned her
to face him. "Listen to me, my dear," he said, and for once there was no amusement whatsoever in his voice. "If you expect Gus to act the role of a lover, you will be disappointed. In his view, your marriage is part of a very important treaty he has negotiated with your government. To him, you are a visible sign of Britain's commitment to Jura's independence. I am sure he is also hoping that you will provide him with a son to succeed him on Jura's throne. But don't look to him for the kind of attention you are accustomed to receiving from your English admirers. Gus is not a man for women."
Lydia looked alarmed. "What do you mean by that? 'He is not a man for women'?"
For a moment Franz looked puzzled, then his face broke into its customary amused smile. "I don't mean to suggest that there is anything aberrant about him." His blue eyes glinted. "I can assure you that Gus is perfectly normal in his appetites. Perhaps I should have said that he is not a man for the company of women. And when you think about what his life has been like for the past ten years, surely that is only to be expected."
Lydia's lovely full mouth was looking sulky. "You are not painting a very attractive picture of marriage for me."
"On the contrary," Franz said, "there are many attractive things about this marriage for you. Don't forget, Gus is making you a princess."
The sulky expression did not disappear from Lydia's mouth. "A princess without a prince."
A bunny hopped across the path about six feet away from them. More rustling in the woods indicated the ongoing activity of squirrels. Except for the wildlife, they were completely alone.
"Damn," Franz said mildly. "Now you are worried. I should have had enough sense to hold my tongue."
Lydia was a tall girl and their eyes were almost on a level. She said in a low voice, "I always thought I would marry a man who adored me."
"And rightfully so," he replied agreeably. His eyes were intensely blue. "Since the day you were born, every man who has seen you has probably adored you."