Double the Love

by Barbara Cartland

  She gave a nod and the Prince leaned close. It was just impossible not to believe that it was the man she loved, impossible not to believe it was Lorenc.

  Prince Stefan brought his lips to hers.

  Ariana then closed her eyes and waited to feel the same fever that had consumed her at Lorenc’s kiss.

  Nothing!

  Her eyes flew open in dismay as she felt instead a cold disgust at the touch of Stefan’s dry passionless flesh.

  He drew back, seemingly ignorant of her response.

  “Well, I think we will suit each other,” was all he said. He rose and stared down at her thoughtfully. “You have never been kissed before, of course?”

  Ariana swallowed.

  “Not – like that,” she replied truthfully.

  The Prince nodded, apparently satisfied.

  “Well, you must leave me now. You will learn that I enjoy my solitude and so will not expect you to keep me company at every hour.”

  She mounted the stairs unsteadily to her room.

  If she had hoped to expel Lorenc from her heart once she met her Prince, those hopes were cruelly dashed. Stefan of Dukka might well resemble Lorenc in limb and feature, but he did not resemble him at heart.

  Bujar was waiting in Ariana’s room. Her excuse was a letter that had arrived two mornings ago for Ariana. Ariana took the letter, but Bujar did not leave.

  “I wonder that you cried out so when you saw the Prince,” she remarked, reverting to Albanian.

  “I have explained that,” replied Ariana, moving to the chair by the fire.

  Still Bujar watched her closely.

  “The Prince seems content with you,” she declared.

  “And if he was not? Would I have been sent back?”

  “I doubt it,” said Bujar airily. “He has invested too much in you already.” She swept her arm about the room. “Clothes. Jewellery. He has paid a good deal of money to your uncle too.”

  “Oh.” Ariana stared at the letter on the table. For all her scruples at not being bargained over she had it now seemed been bought and paid for without her knowledge.

  “I would hope you don’t expect him to love you,” continued Bujar severely. “That he desires you is enough.”

  Ariana was not at all convinced that the Prince had desired her, but could not mull on that for the moment.

  What she wanted now was to try and discover the nature of the family connection that must beyond all doubt exist between Stefan and Lorenc.

  “You said that Prince Stefan has been much alone,” she ventured carefully. “Has he no family? No mother, father, sister? B-brother?”

  Bujar’s eyes narrowed and shook her head.

  “No one alive. No one to carry on his name. That is your purpose.”

  Ariana blenched at the thought of bearing Prince Stefan’s children.

  Then Bujar left, leaving her no more enlightened as to why the Prince should so resemble a brigand. There was nothing for it but to turn to the letter.

  It was, of course, from her uncle. He hoped that she had at last arrived at Dukka, for he had been informed by the Prince that she was delayed. He had not worried about her, as he knew her to be sensible and spoke Albanian.

  He did not wish her to write too often, but would appreciate news once or twice a year.

  Ariana folded her uncle’s missive. His words, so reasonable and so cold, served to remind her of how lonely she had been in his household. With a gesture of defiance, she flung his letter into the fire and with some satisfaction watched it shrivel in the flames.

  The Prince proved true to his own observation that he enjoyed his solitude. He left Ariana to dine alone that evening. She sat at the head of a refectory-style table large enough to seat twenty or so diners.

  She could not help but recall the songs and music of those suppers under the stars in the brigands’ camp.

  *

  The following morning the Prince summoned her to breakfast with him. He was dressed in a purple and green silk dressing gown.

  Ariana knew that his kiss had left her cold. Yet her pupils flared when she saw the curls of hair on his chest where the gown hung open and she could not help but gaze greedily on his all too familiar figure as he ate.

  Breakfast over, he pushed his plate away.

  “Ariana,” he began and she started at hearing him call her by her name, since the night before she had been addressed as ‘madam’. “Ariana, you will be glad to hear that I have sent out an order for the arrest of my coachman and your maid.”

  Ariana was dismayed.

  She secretly prayed that the coachman would never be found. If he was, the story she had presented to explain her delay in reaching Dukka would be proved a lie.

  The Prince would then force her to tell him what had really happened after the flight of the coachman from the scene of the abduction and, once he learned the truth, he would go in search of retribution. Bonnie’s life would be in jeopardy and Lorenc himself would be in danger.

  Ariana wondered if she was doomed to be forever consumed with memories of Lorenc and forever tormented by the uncanny resemblance between him and the Prince.

  But how could she discover if there was any family connection between the two men while it was imperative that she remain silent on the subject? Had she dared too much already in asking Bujar about the Prince’s family?

  “Ariana?” The Prince spoke sharply to her and she realised that she had been lost in her own thoughts.

  “Sir?”

  “You don’t seem to be content that I search for this coachman and his paramour?”

  Ariana bit her lip.

  “I-I think I would rather forget – all about them.”

  “That is not possible. They stole your possessions, amongst which was the pearl necklace I sent to you. Do you think so little of it that you are happy for it to be lost to you forever?”

  Ariana saw the trap she had almost fallen into.

  “Oh, no, sir. I miss it greatly.”

  “Then that is settled. The coachman’s days at large are numbered.”

  The Prince then excused himself, citing letters of business to be attended to and Ariana was left alone.

  *

  This day formed the pattern of the following days.

  She would breakfast with the Prince, pass the day alone or in the company of Bujar, dine alone and spend the evening alone.

  She would have said that she passed the night alone too but that she was haunted by memories of Lorenc.

  The Prince did even attempt to court her in his own curious fashion.

  Often there would be a jewellery case at the side of her plate at breakfast. Opening it she would discover a priceless bracelet or brooch or a pair of earrings. He liked to see her put them on and asked her to parade before him.

  Although she found this request strange, she would comply. Pacing the room she could feel his appreciative gaze upon her, but, whether it was her form he admired or the jewels she sported, she could not tell.

  Soon, however, he began to extend his demands for her presence. He took to escorting her around the estate, linking her arm in his.

  He summoned her to dine with him, wearing one or other of the gowns he had provided. She realised that he valued her as an object, just an ornament for his fiefdom.

  She was like a ruby to hang in his own ear or a diamond flashing on his own breast. Nothing more.

  The Prince and his way of life held no delight for her. She longed for the free gay days she had spent with the brigands and the passion she had known for Lorenc.

  The mere thought of Lorenc alone with Bonnie still tormented her. Perhaps now that Ariana was not there, Lorenc would return the maid’s humble love!

  One morning, the Prince showed her a ring. It was an emerald set in a cluster of sparkling diamonds.

  “It was my mother’s wedding ring,” he said. “Next week, Ariana, it will be on your finger.”

  Ariana bent her head quickly to hide her horror. So next we
ek she must relinquish even her dreams of Lorenc.

  Then her nights would be spent in Prince Stefan’s bed, while her body languished in his unloving arms!

  *

  The Prince wondered aloud that she did not express more excitement at his pronouncement.

  Ariana, rousing herself, countered that she desired more time to acclimatise herself to her new surroundings and to the duties that marriage to the Prince would entail.

  Surely she needed more instruction on those duties from the Prince himself?

  Her apparent submission seemed to flatter him and, after a little hesitation, he agreed to postpone the ceremony for a little while longer.

  He would in the meantime, he insisted ominously, give her lessons in deciphering the Albanian alphabet.

  “It is true,” the Prince mused, “you need a little more preparation for your future role.”

  Although it was only postponing the inevitable, she felt a surge of relief.

  “Thank – you,” she whispered, eyes downcast.

  The Prince was indeed as good as his word and the following morning began lessons in the alphabet – lessons she did not need, although she feigned ignorance very well.

  He also proposed a visit to the town of Glinica.

  Bujar was surprised and commented,

  “He does not like to go out into Society or to be seen by the people. You surely have an effect on him.”

  “I only suggested what is sensible,” replied Ariana, wondering at Bujar’s reaction.

  The morning of the trip to Glinica, Ariana was up early. Gezim had laid out for her a gown of red brocade with a short red jacket and a hat with a veil.

  It had been decided against Ariana’s wish, although she had said nothing, that Gezim accompany her Mistress and the Prince to the town.

  “You must be seen to have a maid in attendance,” the Prince had asserted.

  He eyed her approvingly as she descended the steps to the carriage.

  “You are a vision this morning, Ariana,” he said in a low voice, handing her into the carriage himself.

  Gezim climbed onto the box with the driver and the party set off. It was the end of May and the carriage was of an open type drawn by a pair of snow-white mares.

  The Dukka estate was in full flower with endless rhododendrons and almond blossom.

  ‘If only the man beside me was Lorenc himself and not his double, how happy I would be,’ thought Ariana.

  She regarded the countryside eagerly as the horses tripped along. It was very beautiful, if rather austere, once The Castle estate was left behind.

  As they approached Glinica, the road then became thronged with the country folk carrying baskets of produce and farmers with carts of piglets or wicker cages of hens. It was obviously Fair day in the town.

  Prince Stefan did not seem happy to discover this and cursed himself loudly for not remembering and Ariana saw with surprise that he was growing increasingly uneasy.

  When people doffed their caps or curtseyed to the carriage, he did not acknowledge their greetings, but stared straight ahead.

  When the carriage pulled up in the square before a large hostelry, he seemed impatient to go inside and out of sight of the crowds.

  “B-but may I not see the Fair?” pleaded Ariana.

  The Prince looked disgruntled, but did not refuse.

  “Just this once, yes. Gezim will go with you. Once you are married to me and a personage of some rank, I cannot allow you to mingle with the common herd.”

  After handing her a small purse of coins, he then disappeared into the hostelry, where he intended to meet with one or two local dignitaries.

  What Ariana would have done with her time if she had to remain with him was not apparent.

  She set off with Gezim in her wake. Ariana had not grown fonder of her maid. Indeed so truculent was Gezim that Ariana thought almost with regret of Bonnie.

  Colourful stalls were set up along the narrow streets of Glinica, selling all manner of produce – honey, cheeses, venison, black bread, sweet biscuits, bolts of fine silk and jewellery. The vendors’ cries seemed exotic to Ariana.

  The two women ambled along the street, pausing to drink a mug of warm goat’s milk and taste sweetmeats.

  The main street ended in an area of grass and here there was entertainment of all kinds. Jugglers, acrobats and singers vied for attention from the jostling crowd.

  Fortune-tellers had set up booths and men wrestled in the dust.

  Stopping for a short moment to watch a fire-eater, Ariana’s eye was drawn to the visage of a woman standing opposite, a basket of lavender on her arm.

  She was a gypsy and with a start Ariana recognised her as one of the brides who had come to the brigand’s camp. She looked around her quickly and caught sight of another and then another familiar face.

  Now her heart began to thump excitedly. Was Lulé here at the Fair today?

  Were any of the brigands themselves?

  Was Lorenc?

  The basket of lavender suggested that the women at least came down from the mountain to try and make some money here in Glinica.

  Ariana had decided to accost the first woman she had seen, when she remembered Gezim at her side. Gezim was likely employed to report on her Mistress’s conduct to the Prince and she could not risk him learning that she had seemed familiar with one of the gypsies.

  Glancing round, her eyes then rested on a fortune-teller’s booth. Fortune-telling was an art practised by the gypsies. Perhaps she would find one she knew inside?

  She moved towards the booth, hearing Gezim utter an exclamation behind her.

  “What, Mistress! You’re not goin’ to waste your silver on that nonsense?”

  “Oh, but I am, Gezim,” replied Ariana airily. “It will be fun.”

  She pushed aside the velvet curtain at the entrance to the booth and went inside. She had expected Gezim to remain outside, but the maid followed her, grumbling.

  Inside in lamplight a woman sat at a small table, head bent as she studied cards splayed out in front of her.

  The woman looked up to see who had entered and Ariana gave a gasp.

  It was Lulé!

  Lulé’s eyes widened at the sight of Ariana, but she did not need a signal to take heed of Gezim. She spotted the maid immediately and quickly refocused her gaze onto her cards and shuffling them in her hand.

  “You want a reading?” she asked coolly.

  “I do.”

  Lulé gestured to a chair opposite her at the table and Ariana sat down.

  Lulé had a green scarf around her head, bandanna style, from which locks of raven hair escaped. Huge gold hoop earrings hung from her ears and a ruby ring glinted on her finger.

  Ariana wondered sickeningly if that ring came from Lorenc. Perhaps it was not Bonnie but Lulé he now paid attention to.

  Lulé held the cards up, her eyes meeting Ariana’s over the top.

  “I cannot read with another here,” she muttered meaningfully.

  “Do you mean my maid?”

  Lulé nodded.

  “I do. She must go.”

  Ariana, her back to Gezim, smiled to herself.

  “Gezim, wait outside for me please,” she ordered.

  “Prince Stefan will not like that.”

  “Nevertheless, I ask you to go,” said Ariana firmly.

  She heard Gezim sniff, but the girl pushed aside the curtain and went out.

  “She will listen outside?” enquired Lulé.

  “I think so. Yes.”

  With a grimace and a shrug, Lulé laid out the cards. She regarded them thoughtfully and then gave one a tap.

  “You were once more free of spirit,” she observed.

  “Do you of all people need cards to tell me that?” asked Ariana with a bitter laugh.

  Lulé raised a finger to her lip warningly and Ariana reprimanded herself under her breath.

  If Gezim was indeed listening, she would consider that ‘you of all people’ significant, sin
ce it indicated that Ariana knew the fortune-teller of old.

  “Do you have a question of the cards?” asked Lulé.

  Ariana considered.

  With Gezim obviously listening intently outside she dared not ask her most pressing question, why were Lorenc and Prince Stefan mirror images of each other?

  She would leave that topic for the moment and see whether she could devise an oblique way of returning to it later. Meanwhile, she had other concerns.

  “What should I know of – my maid?” she at last asked carefully.

  Lulé understood at once. Ariana meant Bonnie, but had phrased the question so that it could be taken to refer to Gezim.

  “She is very well,” said Lulé. “She has become her Master’s right hand.”

  Ariana flinched. Bonnie was Lorenc’s ‘right hand’ was she? This surely meant he now depended on her.

  “The maid – does not wish to be – elsewhere?” she asked faintly.

  Lulé’s eyes seemed to delve into Ariana’s soul.

  “She does not wish to leave where she is now,” the gypsy said. “Why should she? She is happy there.”

  Ariana dropped her eyes, suffering.

  “And – what of – her Master?”

  Lulé was silent for so long that Ariana was at last forced to look up. The gypsy had placed her hands on the table and was twisting the ruby ring on her finger.

  “The Master’s heart is full of love,” she said at last.

  Ariana swallowed. Full of love for whom?

  “He is – happy then – the Master?”

  Lulé’s reply was so unexpected that Ariana was not sure that she heard it correctly.

  “No, Mistress. He is not happy.”

  “What did you say – ?” Ariana began, when Gezim came bursting in through the curtain.

  “We have been too long!” cried Gezim, flinging her eyes about the booth as if searching for a hidden enemy. “Prince Stefan will be angry. We should go back now.”

  Ariana was in despair. She had not yet broached the subject of Lorenc’s uncanny resemblance to the Prince.

  She tried to send Gezim away again, but it seemed that Lulé had decided the session was ended.

  The gypsy stood up and Ariana reluctantly followed suit, delving into her purse as she did so.