The English Bride

by Joan Wolf

  "That is part of it," he replied. "But it is Jura's relationship with Austria to which I was referring."

  "Oh," Lydia said cautiously, and saw a faint look of impatience cross his face.

  He said in a clipped voice, "The reason I chose an English bride was to cement the treaty I made with Great Britain."

  "Of course," Lydia said with dignity. However, when he continued to go on speaking about alliances and politics, indignation began to rise in her heart.

  We are going to be married, she thought. I don't know him and I am going to have to sleep with him, and all he can talk about to me is politics!

  Eventually, he finished and looked at her as if waiting for an answer. She decided to assert herself a little. "The wedding plans sound very nice, Prince, but I must confess I would have liked it better if you had consulted me. It is my wedding too, after all."

  He continued to regard her for a long silent moment. She noticed that his right index finger had begun to tap slowly on the arm of the sofa. He said, "If you had accompanied me to Jura three weeks ago, as I requested, I certainly would have consulted you, my lady. You were not here, however, and I thought that I had made it quite clear that I wished to be married before the end of the summer."

  Lydia looked into her future husband's cold gray eyes and thought defiantly, I will not let him intimidate me. She lifted her chin and said in a voice that was every bit as cool as his, "If you had given me more than two days' notice, perhaps I would have accompanied you, Prince. It was unreasonable of you to expect me to drop my own plans and leave for Jura in so short a time."

  His finger continued its tapping on the sofa arm. His face was perfectly expressionless. "I expected nothing, my lady," he said. "I merely offered you the opportunity to accompany me. Since you did not avail yourself of it, however, I do not see that you have the right to complain that you were not consulted about the wedding plans."

  Spots of color stained the porcelain skin over Lydia's high cheekbones. She was a breathtakingly beautiful woman and not accustomed to being looked at as if she was a soldier who had failed in her duty.

  What is the matter with him? she thought.

  Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Lydia once more tried her most charming smile. "Since we are to be married, I think it would be proper for you to address me as Lydia."

  His finger stopped tapping and his expression turned from cold to mystified. She leaned toward him a little, so he would be sure to catch the scent of her perfume, and looked up through her long dark lashes. It was a trick that had melted the hearts of dozens of men.

  The Prince, however, made no motion to draw closer to her or to draw her to him. "Thank you," he said. "And you must call me Augustus."

  Lydia's lashes lifted and she stared at him. He is really very handsome, she told herself. That cleft in his chin is extremely attractive. She said in her most seductive voice, "Franz calls you Gus."

  He was regarding her as if she were a puzzle he couldn't quite decipher. "You may call me Gus as well if you like."

  Her lashes fluttered and she replied softly, "I think I would like that very much."

  He glanced at the clock on the mantel. Lydia couldn't believe her eyes. She was practically sitting in his lap, and he looked at the clock!

  How could she possibly marry such a cold-blooded man?

  He was getting to his feet and making some comment about an appointment he had to keep. He put his hand out to help her up, then, when she was standing beside him, he bent to kiss her cheek. "I hope you will be happy here in Jura, Lydia," he said.

  "Thank you," she replied stiffly.

  A lackey came in to escort her back to her room.

  At dinner that evening, Lydia saw the Prince's smile for the first time. It came in response to something that Charity had said, and the boyish grin he gave her in response made him look younger and more approachable than Lydia had ever seen him before.

  There were six of them seated at the table in the private dining room that was situated in the Prince's wing of the palace: the Prince and Franz and the five Debritts. In the absence of Princess Caterina, who was visiting the same friends in the country as Harry, Lady Beaufort took the chatelaine's seat opposite the Prince. Lydia and Charity were on either side of him, and Franz and Lord Beaufort sat on either side of the countess.

  The deep red and gold china on the table was Meissen, the floor of the room a richly decorated parquet. On one of the white walls decorated with rococo molding hung a large, gilt-framed painting of the Jurian Alps.

  Conversation was general during the first course, but as the soup was removed and the fish course served, Lord and Lady Beaufort began to speak together about some problem on one of the Beaufort estates. Franz said to the Prince, "I imagine this food is a trifle more palatable than the fare you got in the mountains, Gus."

  The Prince looked amused. "You imagine correctly."

  "What kind of food did you eat?" Lydia asked. She did not quite dare to call him Gus.

  "When we were lucky, goat meat roasted over a fire," he replied.

  Lydia shuddered delicately.

  "What does goat taste like, Prince?" Charity asked.

  "Tough," he replied, turning to look at her.

  She made a reply that Lydia could not hear, and that was when the Prince smiled.

  Then Franz claimed Lydia's attention, asking if she had had a chance to view the gardens yet, and she turned away from the Prince to answer him. Throughout the time that the fish course was served, eaten, and removed, Lord and Lady Beaufort spoke together, Lydia and Franz spoke together, and Charity and the Prince conversed.

  What on earth could her sister be talking to the Prince about in such an animated fashion? Lydia wondered as she half listened to an amusing story Franz was telling her. The stern look she was accustomed to seeing on the Prince's face was quite gone as he spoke to Charity.

  Lydia strained to hear and caught the words, ". . . I got quite a good shoulder-in today. Lord Louis said it was very correct."

  A faint line dented Lydia's perfect brow. What on earth were they talking about?

  The Prince said, "Louis told me today that you are one of the best students he has ever had."

  Students? Lydia thought in bewilderment.

  He was saying, "If you continue to improve, perhaps I will let you ride Schani."

  Good heavens, they were talking about horses!

  Well if that is the only topic of conversation that can make him smile, then I suppose he will never smile at me, she thought resentfully. Lydia had never shared Charity's devotion to the equine species.

  Conversation became more general as the meat course was served, and it remained that way all through dessert. The Pfalz household had always followed the European tradition of ladies and gentlemen leaving the table at the same time, so after dessert the entire party retired to a salon that was painted in a deep, rich red. Portraits of the Prince's ancestors decorated the walls, a single crystal chandelier hung from the white ceiling, and gilt chairs with red upholstery were gathered around several occasional tables.

  "Would anyone like to play a game of hearts?" Lord Beaufort said genially.

  "That sounds very pleasant," Lady Beaufort replied.

  "Prince?" Lord Beaufort asked.

  "I would enjoy a game of hearts," the Prince replied.

  Lord Beaufort's eyes fell on his eldest daughter. "Oh," he said. "You don't play, do you, my dear?"

  "No, Papa, I do not," she replied.

  Lord Beaufort looked to Franz. "The count will take you for a walk in the garden, won't you, Count? You will enjoy that much more than being stuck inside on such a fine night, Lydia."

  "I will be delighted to take Lady Lydia for a walk in the gardens," Franz said softly.

  For some reason, Lydia found herself flushing.

  A brief silence fell as the Prince and Lord Beaufort looked at each other. Then the Prince said pleasantly, "I am certain you will wish to play with your spouse, L
ord Beaufort."

  A resigned look slowly spread over the earl's face. "Of course." He gestured his wife toward the square gilt table in the corner of the room. "My dear?"

  As the older couple walked away, the four young people remained together for a moment. The Prince said to Charity in a lowered voice, "Is your mother a better player than my mother?"

  "No," Charity said.

  "Ah," said the Prince. And smiled.

  That is two smiles she has got out of him, Lydia thought resentfully.

  Franz said with amusement, "Do I deduce from these maneuvers that Lady Charity is a good card player, Gus?"

  "She's wicked," the Prince replied.

  Lydia said in an arctic tone, "I gather you have played cards together before."

  "We've been playing almost every night," Charity said. She grinned. "It was Papa's turn to get me as a partner, Prince. You were unfair."

  "I simply did not wish to divide a couple so newly reunited," he returned blandly.

  Franz chuckled. "You are very young to be so accomplished at cards, Lady Charity. How did you learn to play?"

  "My brother once had a tutor who was a great card player and he taught me," Charity said. "The winter that Harry was laid up with a broken leg, we played all the time."

  "What tutor was that?" Lydia said with a frown.

  "Mr. O'Neill."

  Lydia's frown deepened. "The young man with the limp?"

  Charity nodded.

  Finally the Prince remembered his fiancée. "I think you will find the Pfalz gardens lovely, La—ah, Lydia. They were modeled after the gardens at Versailles."

  He wants to play cards and he's happy to be rid of me, Lydia thought with a mixture of anger and bewilderment.

  In all her life, no man had ever been anxious to be rid of her. And this was the man she was going to marry!

  She turned to Franz and was comforted by what she saw in his eyes.

  At least Franz is not indifferent to me, she thought. And he is much more handsome than the Prince.

  She smiled into Franz's blue eyes, rested her hand on his arm, and allowed him to lead her out into the moonlit gardens.

  11

  The wedding of the Prince of Jura was scheduled to take place during the third week in August, and the elaborate preparations for this joyous event occupied the Prince during those times when he was not tending to the business of the country. Charity usually saw him only at dinner and on the occasions when he visited the stables to see how the carousel was progressing.

  Even after Lady Beaufort's arrival, Charity managed to spend a great deal of time in the stables. To her great relief, her mother proved to be too occupied with wedding plans to pay much attention to her younger daughter. She knew that Charity was taking riding lessons from the Prince's écuyer, but she did not know that "learning to ride in the classical way," meant that Charity was also learning to ride astride. Charity shuddered to think what Lady Beaufort would do if she ever caught her daughter in breeches and high boots, so she was very careful never to allow her mother to see her in such garb.

  There is nothing wrong with what I am doing, she told herself every morning as she walked down to the stable correctly clad in a long riding skirt. If Mama objects I will show her the picture of Marie Antoinette that hangs in the Music Room. The painting in question portrayed the murdered queen as a young girl riding a horse in the manège in Vienna, dressed in breeches and riding astride.

  How can it be indecent when the daughter of the Emperor of Austria rode in such a fashion? Charity told herself righteously as she changed her skirt for breeches in the small dressing room tucked into a corner of the riding hall.

  Several weeks passed in this pleasant manner. Then one morning, exactly a week before the wedding, Charity went for an early ride around the park with Lord Louis and returned to the palace at about ten o'clock. As soon as she walked in the door she knew that something was wrong. The air was almost vibrating with tension.

  Mama has found out about the breeches, was her first apprehensive thought. However, this particular fear was alleviated by the fact that all of the servants she encountered as she walked to the indoor staircase were visibly distressed. The Prince's servants, she rationalized, were unlikely to be perturbed by a spat between Lady Beaufort and her daughter.

  As Charity reached the main floor, she saw Lord Stefan Weyr, the Prince's secretary, and Lord Emil Sauder, another of the Prince's friends from his wartime days, walking together across the Banqueting Room deep in worried conversation. Without noticing her, they passed into the west wing, which contained the royal family's private apartments.

  She had paused when she caught sight of Lord Stefan and Lord Emil, and now she heard someone running up the steps behind her. She spun around and saw Count Viktor Rozman, another of the Prince's friends. He nodded to her as he passed, his usually good-natured face looking extremely grim. He too went directly into the west wing.

  What in the world can be happening? Charity wondered in alarm.

  She had reached the wide rococo arch that led into the west wing when she literally bumped into her brother. "Charity!" Harry said, grabbing her by the shoulders to keep her from falling. "I was just on my way to the stables to find you."

  Oh my God. Mama really has found out, Charity thought.

  Before she could say a word, however, Harry rushed on. "The most dreadful thing has happened. Lydia has eloped with Franz!"

  Charity felt herself freeze into utter stillness. She stared into Harry's face, hoping to find something there that would tell her he was joking. There was nothing. She said feebly, "Are you joking me, Harry?"

  "This is hardly something one would joke about," Harry replied indignantly. "She and Franz left the Pfalz together shortly after midnight to drive to Vienna, where they intend to be married. Lydia's maid found her room unoccupied this morning. Our darling sister was kind enough to leave a note for Mama explaining everything."

  "How could Lydia do such a thing?" Charity said in bewilderment. "She was supposed to marry the Prince!"

  Harry ran his fingers through his already disordered black hair. "Do you think we don't know that? Lydia wrote to Mama that she was in love with Franz and did not want to marry the Prince. Did you ever hear of anything more outrageous? She jilted a prince one week before their wedding!"

  Charity's shock was slowly turning into anger. "This is dreadful," she said. "He will have to call off the wedding—and so many plans have been made!" She glared up at her brother. "How could Lydia do this to him?"

  "How could she do it to us?" Harry retorted. "Do you know how this makes our family look? I thought Papa was going to have an apoplexy when he heard."

  But Charity's sympathy lay with the jilted groom. "Whatever is the Prince going to do? He will be the laughingstock of Europe." Then furiously, "I would like to kill Lydia."

  "So would we all," Harry replied. His green eyes held a dangerous sparkle.

  A servant was coming toward them carrying a silver tray with a covered dish upon it. They watched him pass in silence, then Charity said, "When first you stopped me, I was afraid it was because Mama had found out about my riding astride. Now I wish that was all it was. This . . . this is just too terrible."

  Harry nodded in grim agreement. "Papa wants to see you," he said. "That is why I was looking for you."

  Charity's eyes widened in surprise. "See me? What does he want to see me about?"

  Harry shrugged. "He didn't confide in me, Char. He just sent me to fetch you."

  "All right. Where is he?"

  "He's waiting in his sitting room."

  Charity took a step, then stopped and turned back to her brother. "Is Mama with him?"

  "She wasn't when I left him. I think she went to bed with a headache."

  "She must be devastated," Charity said somberly.

  "She looked awful when I saw her earlier," Harry replied. "She looked old."

  As Charity approached the door that led into the sitting room that
was attached to Lord Beaufort's bedchamber, two thoughts alternated in her mind: I can't believe that this has happened, and What is the Prince going to do?

  She knocked on the polished wood door and her father called for her to come in.

  "Sit down, Charity," he said. The sun shining in the window bathed the pink, blue, and cream Persian rug in a warm glow as Charity crossed it to take a seat upon the pink silk sofa.

  She clasped her hands tensely in her lap and said, "Harry told me what happened, Papa. I can't believe that Lydia of all people would do such a thing! She is always so proper."

  "Well she has done it," Lord Beaufort replied grimly. "And she has left us to deal with the consequences." He sat down beside her on the sofa.

  Charity repeated the words she had said to Harry. "The Prince will be the laughingstock of Europe." Her fingers tightened their grip on each other. "Is there any chance of our getting her back, Papa?"

  Lord Beaufort shook his head wearily. "I am afraid not. Too many people know what happened, and there would be a dreadful scandal."

  Charity opened her hands in a gesture of disagreement. "It couldn't be worse than this!"

  Once again Lord Beaufort shook his head. "Lydia was alone with Franz all night, Charity. She is compromised. The Prince cannot marry her now."

  Charity flopped backward, rested her head against a sofa cushion, and stared up at the ceiling. "I thought Franz was supposed to be the Prince's friend!"

  "Lydia wrote to your mother that they were in love."

  Charity's skeptical snort showed clearly enough what she thought of that excuse.

  Picking his words with care, Lord Beaufort said, "We have been discussing this matter since seven o'clock, when Lydia's letter was found, and the only solution we have been able to arrive at is to find the Prince another bride."

  Charity scooted back to an upright position. "Good heavens, Papa. What woman would marry a man on a week's notice?"

  "Augustus is not just any man," Lord Beaufort pointed out. "He is a prince."

  "True." Charity's face brightened as a thought struck her. "Are there any German princesses available? Such an alliance would help strengthen trade between Jura and the German Confederation, which would be desirable to all parties involved."