“If you don’t,” said the Prince coolly, “you will answer for it. To me.”
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN KATHY awoke the next morning she remembered immediately that her life had taken rather an extraordinary turn, but for several moments the details of what had happened completely eluded her, and when she did manage to recall the events of the previous evening they seemed to her so fantastic that for a moment or two she found herself half wondering whether she had dreamt it all. But it was real enough, as she soon realized ... and then she glanced at her watch and saw with a stab of horror that she had overslept. The Prince wanted to see her at ten o’clock, and it was already half past nine.
It didn’t normally take her very long to get dressed in the morning, but on this occasion she spent so much time making up her mind exactly what to wear that it was almost five minutes to ten before she was finally ready to vacate the sanctuary of her own room. As far as she had been able to gather, her new job would commence as from this morning, and she was slightly uncertain exactly what sort of dress she would be expected to wear while on duty. But eventually she discarded the idea of putting on one of the neat grey dresses which she usually wore behind the reception desk, and settled instead for a rather attractive woollen suit which she had bought herself only a fortnight earlier. It was the colour of autumn leaves, and almost exactly matched her hair, and she couldn’t help appreciating what it did for her appearance as a whole. She felt decidedly nervous at the prospect of what might possibly lie in front of her, and the suit gave her morale a much-needed boost.
Just before ten o’clock she closed the door of her room behind her, and started to make her way along the winding corridors of Ransome’s to the Prince’s sitting-room. As she walked, she thought how little she really knew about the sort of life that was now going to be hers, and once she even found herself wondering whether the imperious young woman who had engaged her services might already have changed her mind. But she didn’t honestly think that was likely. She recalled the scene in Mr. McArthur’s office late the previous evening, when Prince Leonid had coolly informed the hotel manager that it was going to be necessary for him to forgo the services of Miss Grant. Kathy had felt dreadful about it, for as it was, Ransome’s was short-staffed at the moment and she had certainly expected Mr. McArthur to make some small protest, or at least to level some reproaches at herself. But she had underestimated the lengths to which Mr. McArthur was prepared to go in order to please so vitally important a guest as Prince Leonid of Tirhania. She had felt like an inanimate object being handed to the Prince on a platter, and as it had been very late by that time, and she had had an extremely tiring evening, nothing in any case had made very much impression on her. She remembered making some sort of an apology to the manager, and it seemed to her that he had more or less said apologies were unnecessary. One of his receptionists had so impressed the Princess Natalia that she now wanted her for a personal attendant, and nothing could have been a greater compliment to himself or to Ransome’s! The transaction had been completed, Prince Leonid had asked her to come to his sitting-room at ten o’clock the following morning, and she had retired somewhat dizzily to bed. In the cold light of morning she was, however, beginning to wonder whether she had possibly behaved in a slightly crazy manner, for she still had really no idea precisely what sort of job she was undertaking, and when she came to think of it the Princess’s words and conduct on the previous evening, and the air of mystery surrounding the whole family had been anything but reassuring. She could only hope that Leonid intended to throw some light on the situation for her benefit. At any rate, she would have to let him know that she must be told more about the situation.
But when, in response to a command to ‘enter,’ she found herself in his sitting-room, all she could think of to say was a rather hesitant ‘good morning.’
She looked very attractive in the russet-coloured suit, and her eyes were huge and slightly anxious, but if her appearance made any impression at all on the Prince the fact was certainly not noticeable. He was standing by one of the tall windows when she entered, and as he turned towards her she thought that something remarkably like disdain flickered across his face.
“Good morning, Miss Grant. You are very punctual.”
From the way in which he spoke she could almost have supposed that he considered punctuality a fault, and she hesitated, uncertain what to say. Also, as on the previous evening, when she had been about to meet his sister-in-law, she wondered whether or not she ought to curtsy. But in this connection at least he was evidently able to read her thoughts, and made a small dismissing gesture.
“If you are wondering whether you ought to make some sort of genuflection when you come into my presence, mademoiselle, let me hasten to assure you that I dislike such displays of anachronistic humility very much indeed, and the same applies to my sister-in-law. Will you be seated?”
She complied, sinking down on to a brocade-covered sofa so deep that its cushions threatened to swallow her, but to her discomfiture the Prince himself proceeded to pace up and down the room.
“Miss Grant,” he began after a short silence, “there are a number of things which must be explained to you. I did not feel that last night was the time to talk to you about them, especially as you were tired, and obviously feeling a little bewildered, but if you are to act as a companion to my sister-in-law you must know more about the circumstances in which she finds herself. Of course, she will tell you all about the situation as she sees it, but her viewpoint is not exactly reliable ... in fact, it is quite irrational.” At this point, he snapped open his gold cigarette-case, and absently extracted a cigarette. Apparently he remembered that Kathy herself did not smoke, for he did not attempt to offer her one, but instead lit his own, and paced thoughtfully to the window before speaking again.
“The Princess Natalia,” he said slowly, “is the widow of Kaspar, my elder brother ... one of my elder brothers. She was very young when they married—not quite seventeen, I believe—and despite everything that has happened to her since she has remained in many respects nothing but a child. She is extremely devoted to her son and daughter, but her feeling for them sometimes bears a disturbing resemblance to a small girl’s affection for her dolls. You understand me?”
Kathy felt uncomfortable. “I thought,” she said hesitantly, “that her anxiety over the little girl—over your niece—was very real.”
“Of course it was real. She is very easily frightened, and for the children she is terrified. Which brings me to what I was going to say. My eldest brother, as perhaps you know, is the King of Tirhania.”
Kathy nodded. “King Anton?”
“That is correct. Well, unfortunately, Anton is not popular with everyone in my country. Like so many of us, he has his enemies. Soon, no doubt, we shall all be in exile.” His voice was dry, and completely detached. “However, where Anton has failed, my brother Kaspar, while he was alive, seemed likely to succeed. For some reason our people became strongly attached to him. Anton knew it, everyone knew it.” He shrugged. “There was no ill feeling ... they were brothers, they did not wish to quarrel. And then, one year ago, Kaspar was killed in an air accident. It was quite an understandable accident—he always flew his own plane, he took risks, and one day he was just a bit too rash. However,” staring thoughtfully out of the window, “nothing will convince my sister-in-law that he was not murdered on the instructions of Anton.”
“But surely, if she is so childlike ... a very trusting person ...?” ventured Kathy. “Surely she would not suspect King Anton of such a thing unless it seemed certain to be true?”
“Of her own accord she would suspect no one.” Violently, the Prince crushed out his cigarette in a conveniently placed ash-tray, and swung away from the window. “Her mind has been poisoned, and as far as I can see, there is no antidote to the poison.” He looked bleakly at Kathy. “I only tell you all this so that you shall completely understand the situation. Her Highness will talk to you of
dangers and conspiracies—of a plot, which certainly exists only in her own imagination—to rid the world of herself and both her children ... presumably because she is the widow, and they the heirs of Kaspar.”
“I ... see.” Kathy remembered the melodramatic scene she had found when she first went up to the Princess’s suite the night before. “Then that is why she has dismissed all her servants? She thinks they have all been bribed to spy on her and the children?”
“I imagine so, mademoiselle.” He looked at her coldly, and she realized that he had found the task of discussing his family’s affairs with her extremely distasteful. He looked at his watch.
“And now,” he said more briskly, “there are a number of other matters to be settled ... the exact nature of your duties, and the size of the remuneration which is to be paid to you.” He moved across to a handsome walnut writing-desk, and sitting down before it started writing something. “I think,” he said without looking up, “that it may seem a trifle strange if my sister-in-law is known to have engaged an English companion. Officially, you will be her secretary. As to the question of salary ...”
He named a figure which took Kathy’s breath away. Feeling impelled to do so, she said shyly: “Isn’t that rather high? I mean—”
“As an employee Of the Princess Natalia, Miss Grant, you will have certain expenses. For one thing, your appearance will be of considerable importance.” His eyes flickered over her in a peculiarly humiliating fashion, and feeling that he despised even the russet-coloured suit, which had certainly not been very expensive, she coloured brilliantly.
“I—I understand,” she said quietly, and hoped that the interview would soon come to an end.
He stood up and walked towards her, holding something in his hand. “This,” he said, “is a cheque for your first month’s salary. I doubt whether there will be time for you to do any shopping in London—in fact,” looking at his watch again, “there certainly will not be time. But we shall be stopping in Paris and Rome, and perhaps Her Highness will advise you on the choice of a wardrobe.”
“Paris ...? Rome ...?” Kathy stared at him. “We’re—we’re leaving London?”
Halfway back to his desk, he turned to look at her. “But naturally. Surely you did not assume ... the Princess’s home is in Tirhania, and she is going back there. I am taking her back, and you will come with us. Unless, of course,” disdainfully, “this changes things as far as you are concerned? You do not wish to go abroad, perhaps? You are a timid little English mouse, afraid to leave the security of your own island?”
“Of course not.” She stood up, mustering all her dignity. “I hadn’t thought ... I mean, I didn’t realize ... But naturally Her Highness will be going home, and it makes no difference whatsoever to me. I have no living relatives, or ties of any sort, and I should very much like to go abroad.”
“Well, that is good.” To her astonishment, he smiled, and it was an extraordinarily attractive smile, revealing excellent white teeth. “And now, I have detained you long enough. We leave Heathrow Airport for Paris in just under two hours’ time. It will be necessary for you and your luggage to be in the foyer by twenty minutes to twelve. You have just time to pack, and also to have a short talk with my sister-in-law.” A thought struck him, and he frowned. “Have you a passport?”
She nodded. “I went to Switzerland once, when I was at school. I had to have one.”
“Excellent. Au revoir, mademoiselle.” He held the door open for her, and realizing that she was dismissed she murmured something that she hoped sounded suitable, and walked past him into the corridor. His door closed behind her, and for a moment, feeling a little dizzy with bewilderment, she stood quite still. Then she hurried back to her own room, and started packing feverishly.
Twenty minutes later she had finished, and when she had taken her two small suitcases out into the corridor she stood looking around her bedroom for the last time. She had only been at Ransome’s for a little over six months, but already she had become attached to the place. She knew that her job there had been absolutely secure, and she had felt at home in the rambling Victorian building, with its comfortable if slightly outdated furnishings and its atmosphere of timeless tranquillity. Now she was going out into an unknown world which was distinctly frightening, and she didn’t even know what to expect of that world. All she knew was that the people who inhabited it were rather larger than life—either quellingly aloof or disturbingly neurotic—and that it was going to take her right away from everything she had ever been used to.
She sighed, and walked out of the room, resolutely closing the door behind her. Perhaps the prince had been right, and she was a ‘timid little English mouse.’
Precisely at twenty to twelve she arrived in the foyer, a suitcase in either hand. She had had a short chat with the Princess, who to her astonishment had been calm and smiling, and was evidently looking forward to the halt in Paris with the excitement of a schoolgirl.
“It is almost six months,” she said solemnly, “since I was in Paris. I have practically nothing in my wardrobe! You and I, we will go shopping in Paris, and we shall have a wonderful time!”
Then Kathy had been introduced to little Prince Joachim, the Princess’s five-year-old son, who was actually, she learnt, the heir to his uncle’s kingdom. She expected Natalia to show some sort of emotion or nervousness on the little boy’s behalf when she talked about the future for which he was being educated, but this morning the Princess seemed to have cast her cares aside, and it was obvious that the close proximity of Prince Leonid, who seemed to give her a feeling of security, was partially responsible for this. On the previous evening she had been certain that her daughter was being poisoned; now, as she bounced Nina on her lap, she was prepared to dismiss the whole thing as having been nothing more serious than a minor stomach upset.
Kathy could not help wondering whether, as a result of this change in their mistress’s mood, Natalia’s erstwhile servants might be re-engaged; and when she reached the foyer it became clear to her that this was exactly what had happened. One or two of the people who had assembled there were obviously in attendance on Prince Leonid; but it was quite clear that the majority belonged to Natalia’s suite. They looked at her with curiosity, and feeling vaguely uncomfortable she moved across to talk to Miss Harbury, who was on duty at the reception desk, and immediately stood up and grasped one of Kathy’s hands in both her own.
“My dear, I’ve just heard,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “I couldn’t be more happy for you!”
Thinking that such congratulations would have been more appropriate if she had just got engaged to be married, Kathy smiled wryly.
“Thank you,” she said. “But I’m terribly nervous.”
“Well, don’t be. You’ll never get such a chance again! Enjoy yourself, dear.”
“I’ll try to.” Behind her the lift gates clashed noisily, and as she caught the sound of a sudden uprush of activity she turned to say a hurried goodbye to Miss Harbury, but even as she did so a voice spoke icily in her ear.
“Miss Grant, I believe you are on duty?”
With a start she turned, to find the Prince looking down at her disapprovingly, his cold black eyes snapping.
“I’m—I’m sorry, sir—Your Highness!”
“My sister-in-law seems to require your services, to which, incidentally she has a perfect right. May I suggest that in future you remain close to her?” Without giving her a chance to answer he turned and walked away.
Hurriedly, Miss Harbury squeezed her hand. “Never mind, dear—stick it out!” she whispered. “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Miss Harbury.” Her cheeks burning, Kathy hurried across the foyer to where Princess Natalia was waiting for her. She was aware that several pairs of dark Tirhanian eyes followed her with half sympathetic amusement, and the Princess, when she reached her, looked faintly apologetic.
“I am so sorry, you are embarrassed, yes?” she murmured. “It is Leonid. He has not any—what do you
say? ... tact! and I only wondered if you would like to hold Nina for me ... she has the great liking for you, you see!”
Swallowing her discomfiture, Kathy picked the child up, and was rewarded with an entrancing smile which transfigured the small pale face.
She was introduced to two or three members of the suite, including a thin, bejewelled, elderly woman who was apparently the Baroness Liczak. None of them looked as if their dismissal of the night before had discomposed them very much, but after all, thought Kathy, they were very probably used to it. To herself they were courteous and very amiable, if a little withdrawn, and she found it absolutely impossible to tell what they thought of her sudden addition to the household.
And then the majority of the staff were being shepherded into taxis which were to take them to the airport ahead of their employers, and finally the moment arrived when Natalia herself, in response to some sort of signal, moved towards the doorway. Kathy had been told that she herself was to travel in the same car as the Princess, and so, still carrying Nina, she fell into line behind her.
At the door, Mr. McArthur bowed respectfully over Natalia’s hand, and then shook Kathy’s with an enthusiastic cordiality which embarrassed her. Outside, they turned down the steps to a waiting grey Bentley, while camera lights flashed all around them, and a voice shouted: “Look this way, Princess!” Once, a camera was pushed close to Nina’s face, and instinctively Kathy put up a hand to protect the child. By the time they reached the shelter of the car she was shaking with fright, and as the commissionaire closed the door upon them, and they drew slowly away from the kerb, she gave a sigh of relief.
Joachim, who was ensconced between her and his mother, looked up at her, and his huge dark eyes expressed a kind of precocious amusement.
“Don’t you like reporters, mademoiselle?” he asked conversationally, in excellent English, but before Kathy could say anything his mother turned to him, and ruffled his hair.
The Breadth of Heaven Page 3