“Of course I did!” Xenia answered. “I wanted to know why I had to come here in such a hurry and he said that Great Britain was aware of the unrest in Luthenia and that you were of vital importance to the balance of power in Europe.”
“Why the hell has no one told me this before?” the King asked irritably.
“I suppose they were too afraid or thought that perhaps you would not listen.”
“That is true,” the King admitted. “The British Minister in Molnár is a bore, so I never thought of having a private conversation with him. Or perhaps Kalolyi has deliberately contrived that I should never have a chance of being alone with any of the Foreign Ministers.”
“Then why do you not invite them to the Palace one by one?” Xenia suggested.
The King rose to his feet.
“That is something I will do immediately after we are married,” he said. “By that time I imagine that you will have hundreds more suggestions, or rather I should say instructions, for me to carry out!”
Xenia did not answer.
Instead she thought she had only a few more days with him and the idea was so depressing that it was almost a physical pain.
*
After a quiet luncheon with the King’s relatives and Madame Gyula and the Count, Xenia remembered that the Prime Minister had said that there was to be a Press Conference.
She was just about to ask the Count when it was to take place, when another aide-de-camp came into the room to say,
“I thought that you would wish to know, Your Majesty, that the representatives of the press are here, but a messenger has come from the Prime Minister to say that he thinks in the circumstances it would be a mistake for either Your Majesty or Her Royal Highness to see them.”
“Has he given any reason for this change of plan?” Xenia asked.
“I understand, Your Royal Highness, that the Prime Minister thinks that some of the questions may prove too impertinent or embarrassing for you to answer.”
Xenia looked at the King.
“Shall I reply?” she asked.
“Of course,” he answered. “If you remember, the Prime Minister said that he was sure they would wish to know intimate details of yourself and your trousseau.”
“Will you inform the messenger,” she said to the aide-de-Camp, “that I am perfectly prepared to answer any questions to the representatives of the press and I am sure that His Majesty will join me later in case they have anything they wish to ask of him.”
The aide-de-camp would have bowed and left the room, but, as he reached the door, Xenia asked,
“Is there a reporter from The People’s Voice present?”
The aide-de-camp repeated almost stupidly,
“The People’s Voice?”
“That is a paper which is against the Government,” the Count said.
Again Xenia looked at the King.
As if he realised exactly what she was doing, he said,
“I think on such an important occasion as a Royal Wedding every newspaper should be included in the Press Conference.”
“Do you mean that, Sire?” the Count asked. “The People’s Voice has been violently anti-Monarchy for some time.”
“What they invent would doubtless be far more harmful than anything they will hear from us,” the King replied.
“I will send for a reporter, Sire,” the Count said, “and ask the other representatives to wait in patience until he arrives.”
“What is all this about?” the Dowager Duchess of Mildenburg enquired, who had been listening to what was being said. “When I was young, the newspaper reporters were treated like pariahs, but nowadays I am told that they are encouraged even by Queen Victoria!”
“We have to move with the times, Aunt Elizabeth,” the King said, “and the more people who can read, the more they are capable of voting for the right representatives in Parliament.”
“I am sure you are right, dearest István,” the Dowager Duchess replied, “and yet it seems to me a very revolutionary step that you and dear Johanna should actually receive such people.”
“They are quite ordinary flesh and blood,” the King smiled.
“Your grandfather would certainly not have thought so.”
The King laughed.
“Johanna is convinced that they are more valuable to us than a Regiment of soldiers, and I am not certain she is not right.”
He smiled at Xenia as he spoke and said unexpectedly,
“We have a little time on our hands. What would you like to do?”
“See the Palace,” Xenia said quickly, “especially the pictures.”
“Come along then,” the King suggested. “It will take the best part of an hour to collect this anarchist you insist on including in your cosy chat, so let’s play truant for as long as we can!”
He held out his hand and she put hers into it and, leading her as if she was a child, he set off with her to explore the Palace.
It was even more fascinating than Xenia had expected and she found that the King was very knowledgeable about his possessions, especially the pictures.
“I never thought, I never dreamt that I should see anything so beautiful,” she enthused over several Canalettos.
“One day I will take you to Vienna,” the King said. “That is, if we are left with any money which has not been spent on your good works.”
His words gave her an idea.
“Are you rich?” she asked.
“It depends what you want to buy,” he answered.
“I was thinking,” she said, “that if we started a fund to help the poorest people in the city and contributed towards a hospital and other things that are desperately needed, we would encourage other people to give, especially if you call it, The King’s Fund.”
“It is certainly an idea,” the King agreed.
“If you cannot afford it,” Xenia said tentatively, “I suppose it would be possible to get a very high price in Paris or London for pictures like these.”
“If you are going to ransack the Palace,” the King said positively, “then I am not going to listen to you.”
“You have to consider whether you would be better off with a few less pictures or the Palace itself,” Xenia snapped without choosing her words.
There was silence and then she added quickly,
“I am – sorry. I should not have spoken like that, but there is so much to be done and so very little time to do it.”
“Do you really believe the revolutionaries are knocking on the door?” the King asked.
She could not say that as far as she was concerned time was of utmost urgency.
Every breath she drew meant that she was a second nearer to the moment when like Cinderella her glamour would be stripped away from her and she would be on the train back to England.
“If it is so urgent for us to be married,” she managed to say after a moment, “then I am not exaggerating when I say that any step you wish to take to avert a revolution should be taken at once.”
“You are right,” the King agreed. “At the same time it is hard to believe I can be swept away as easily as that.”
“I think we have to be fair and say that the Prime Minister will do everything he can to avert it,” Xenia said, “but on his own terms and in his own way.”
“Blast him!” the King swore. “If he had not been so overbearing, this dissatisfaction would never have built up in the first place.”
“But it’s there now,” Xenia said, “and it’s something we have to face.”
They were speaking in the Picture Gallery and now the Count approached them.
“The Editor from The People’s Voice has come himself, ma’am,” he said to Xenia, “and judging from the expression on his face I think you may be in for some pretty tough cross-questioning.”
“I am not afraid,” Xenia answered.
Once again she put her hand into the King’s.
“Come and support me,” she said. “I have a feeling that no one is
going to mention my trousseau or even ask me what is my favourite pudding! It is going to be politics – politics all the way!”
“And I am quite certain,” the King said dryly, “that they will prove extremely indigestible!”
Chapter 5
Galloping beside the King, Xenia thought that she had never been so happy in her whole life.
For the first time she was riding a horse of the type her mother had described to her so often, a thoroughbred, which was spirited and at the same time responded to every touch of her hand.
The snow on the peaks of the mountains was brilliant against a clear blue sky and the grass they were riding over on the Steppes was filled with wild flowers.
It was so lovely and so colourful that Xenia felt there was no artist living who could do it justice.
It was also an indescribable joy to be alone with the King.
They had in fact a mounted escort, but the four troopers who accompanied them kept in the background and it was easy for Xenia to forget their very existence.
In the last few days it had been almost impossible for her to be alone with the King as there had been so many things to do.
After the accident to the small boy when they left the House of Parliament, they had gone, on Xenia’s suggestion, to call at his home and enquire as to his health.
It was an excuse that made it possible for the King to see a part of the City he had never visited before.
As they drove through the narrow dirty streets hidden behind the façade of impressive buildings erected by the Prime Minister, she knew that he was shocked and appalled.
There were places that looked as if they were on the verge of falling down, there were open drains and a scarcity of pumps for the people to draw clean water.
The mother of the little boy they had befriended lived in one room of a dilapidated house where thirty other people slept, ate and existed on what Xenia felt must be the borderline of starvation.
They left some presents and money and, when they drove back to the Palace, she thought that there was a new expression of determination about the King that had not been there before.
He had announced to the press the previous day that he intended setting up a ‘King’s Fund’ and would use the money to alleviate distress and to improve housing conditions.
Afterwards Xenia had laughed at the expression on the faces of the newspaper reporters as he spoke.
“They goggled at you like goldfish!” she said. “I thought that their eyes would fall out of their sockets!”
“It’s sad they never got round to talking about your trousseau!” the King teased.
This was not surprising, for, as they had expected, the editor of The People’s Voice bombarded the King with questions and was obviously not interested in the feminine point of view.
The newspapers, even the conventional Government-inspired ones, carried headlines that Xenia knew would infuriate the Prime Minister.
“The Princess who cares,” they had shouted in bold capitals after she had befriended the little boy.
“The King intends to get things moving!” was the headline the following day.
It was all very exciting and Xenia longed to have time to discuss everything that had happened with the King alone.
But the Palace was filling up for the wedding with relatives who lived nearby and every day brought answers to invitations from the Monarchs of neighbouring states.
Everyone expected to stay in the Palace and there was a continual shuffling of places and changing of accommodation when a guest who was more important than others had to be moved in, which meant that someone else had to be moved out.
The Prime Minister, moreover, was determined after their visit to the poor quarters of the City that they should not uncover any more horrors.
He therefore arranged for the King and Xenia to visit other towns in the country and away from Molnár.
This involved leaving early in the Royal train, being greeted by crowds on arrival, inspecting a Guard of Honour, meeting civil dignitaries and usually having a long drawn-out luncheon at which there seemed to be interminable speeches.
It was impossible to refuse to make these visits, as the King would have liked to do. But, once the Prime Minister had told the Mayor and Corporation to expect the Royal Couple, Xenia felt that it was worthwhile. The cheers, which had seemed perfunctory on arrival, were on their departure effusive and sincere.
*
Now there was only one more day before the wedding and she expected Johanna’s arrival at any moment.
She had therefore bullied Count Gáspar into altering their programme so that she and the King could ride together and be ‘off duty’ at least for the best part of the last day.
“You will have plenty of time to ride on your honeymoon, ma’am,” Count Gáspar suggested.
“I need the exercise now,” Xenia replied.
The Count laughed.
“You are indefatigable, ma’am. Most women who look as frail and ethereal as you would have collapsed long ago from the strenuousness of the last few days.”
Xenia did not reply.
Although some nights she had been very tired, she was enjoying herself and there was no question of her collapsing.
Every moment held a fascination because she was seeing things she had only ever heard about from her mother.
She admitted to herself that every detail was enhanced because she was fighting for the King and because they were united in the battle that drew them secretly and closely together.
When the King heard that they were going riding, he said to the Count,
“If we are really to play truant I intend to take Her Royal Highness to see the Sacred Falls.”
“What are they?” Xenia asked. “I do not seem to have heard of them before.”
“They belong to the very early history of Luthenia,” the King replied, “when the people treated them as a kind of Oracle.”
“It sounds exciting!” Xenia exclaimed.
“They may not really be very sacred,” the King said, “but they are extremely beautiful.”
“Then, of course, I am longing to see them.”
Amongst Johanna’s clothes Xenia found several very attractive, exceedingly well-cut riding habits.
It was not difficult to choose which she would wear as the weather was very warm and she knew that it would be exceedingly hot at midday.
She therefore let Margit dress her in a habit of white pique, a material that had first been introduced in Paris by the ladies who rode in the Bois de Boulogne.
It was decorated with emerald green braid and Xenia found that there were little short boots of green leather and gloves to match.
Her small hat was decorated with a gauze veil of the same green and the King thought as they rode away from the Palace that her eyes were shining like two emeralds.
Now, as they steadied their horses from a gallop into a trot, Xenia looked over her shoulder at the King and exclaimed,
“That’s better! I did not realise until now how constrained and tense I have been feeling.”
“We have left all the dragons behind,” the King replied, “and I must say that the air smells better without them.”
The fragrance of the wild flowers was in fact almost overwhelming and Xenia looking at the beauty of the mountains said,
“Would it not be wonderful if we could ride away to the furthest horizon and never have to go back?”
“And how soon do you think you would be bored?” the King asked mockingly.
“I should be asking you that question,” Xenia retorted.
She thought as she spoke that the cynicism and the aloof indifference or boredom she had seen on his face on her arrival had almost vanished.
He was alert and, ever since they had been fighting the Prime Minister, he had had the air of a man who, goaded into battle, was determined to be the victor.
“I have a castle in the mountains,” the King said unexpectedly, “but I nev
er thought somehow that you would enjoy the simple life.”
“I would love to stay in the mountains,” Xenia answered.
As she spoke, she knew that she would never have the chance of seeing the King’s castle or the mountains themselves except at a distance.
‘To me they are out of reach,’ she thought and knew that her ‘midnight’ was very near, ushered in by Johanna’s arrival.
‘She will come tomorrow,’ Xenia told herself.
Because the thought of leaving Luthenia was like a physical pain, she was afraid that the King would realise what she was suffering and touched her horse with her spur.
Again she was galloping with the tireless rhythmic stride that was characteristic of a Hungarian-bred horse. The King was beside her and there was an exhilaration about moving so swiftly, the soft cool air against her face.
They had ridden for two hours when the King declared,
“We are nearing the Falls and we must allow our escort to catch up with us so that they can hold our horses.”
Xenia drew in her reins and as she did so she said,
“You ride magnificently! I knew you would.”
“That is a compliment I can return whole-heartedly,” the King replied. “In fact I had no idea that you were such an outstanding horsewoman.”
“I have not ridden for a long time,” Xenia said.
She realised that she had spoken without thinking and added quickly,
“At least it seems a long time. It always does when I am not in the saddle.”
“As soon as we are married, we will ride every day,” the King promised. “I have some excellent horses at the Summer Palace, which I want to show you.”
“I long to see them,” Xenia answered and tried to prevent her voice recording not enthusiasm but despair in knowing it was something she would never do.
The King drew his horse a little closer to hers before he said in a tone of voice she had not heard before from him,
“Every day since you have come to Molnár, you have looked lovelier than the last. I thought that you were beautiful three months ago when I came to Slovia and I had not seen you since you have grown up, but now you look different.”
“In what way?” Xenia asked.
She knew that she should change the conversation and not let him talk about herself, but she was curious.
69 Love Leaves at Midnight Page 10