“Welcome to Dórsia, ma’am! It is a very great pleasure and a privilege to have you here as my guest.”
She thought the voice sounded young and rather boyish. Then the next moment the Queen Mother had moved on and Zosina curtseyed deeply as she took the hand that was waiting for her.
For a moment it was impossible to focus her eyes to look up and she heard the King say again,
“Welcome to Dórsia! It is a very great pleasure and a privilege to have you here as my guest.”
Now she raised her eyes.
He was good-looking and the miniature had been an excellent likeness, but there was something the artist had omitted and which to Zosina was very noticeable.
It was the expression in the King’s eyes and she knew, as she looked at him, that he was staring at her with what she thought was resentment and, she was quite sure, dislike.
It was only a quick impression, but, almost before it was possible to look at the King and him at her, he had turned his face towards Count Csàky, who was directly behind her and Zosina was forced to move on.
As she did so, she heard the Queen Mother say,
“I want you to meet my granddaughter, the Princess Zosina.”
Zosina curtseyed again, realising as she did so, that she was now in front of the Regent, Prince Sándor.
It was difficult for a moment to think of anything but the way the King had looked at her and to know that her heart was thumping and she felt shocked because of what she had seen.
It was then that she felt her hand held in a firm grasp and a voice said,
“I am so very delighted, Your Royal Highness, that you are here, and I hope in all sincerity that we in Dórsia will be able to make your visit a very happy one.”
There was no doubt the voice was as sincere as the words.
As it flashed through Zosina’s mind that she had no idea what the Regent looked like, she raised her eyes and saw that he was very different from what she had expected.
She had imagined since he was uncle to the King and had been Regent for some years, that he would be old or at least middle-aged.
But there was no doubt that the man who held her hand as she rose from her curtsey was certainly not much over thirty-three or four.
He was good-looking, she thought, but in a different manner from the King and he had an easy kind of self-confidence about him, which seemed to Zosina to give her the assurance she needed at the moment.
It was as if he calmed and steadied her and the expression that she had seen in the King’s eyes did not seem so upsetting or so frightening.
The Queen Mother was greeting the Prime Minister and various members of the welcoming party and for the moment Zosina made no effort to follow her.
Her hand still rested in the Regent’s and, as if he knew what she was feeling, he said,
“It is always rather bewildering to meet a whole collection of new people for the first time, but I can promise you, Your Royal Highness, that they are all as delighted to see you as I am.”
With an effort Zosina found her voice.
“You – are very – kind,” she managed to say. “That is what we all want to be,” the Regent answered. “And now I want to introduce you to the Prime Minister who is very anxious to make your acquaintance.”
There were more presentations, then the King was at the Queen Mother’s side and they walked together with Zosina following with the Regent, towards the door of the station.
As they reached it, a band began to play the Lützelstein National Anthem and it was then followed by that of Dórsia.
Out of the corner of her eyes and by now they were standing four in a row, Zosina could look at the King.
He was standing at attention and she thought that he was looking bored and, when the National Anthems were over and they stepped into the open carriage that was waiting for them, he yawned before he joined the Queen Mother on the back seat, while Zosina and the Regent sat opposite them.
As the horses started off amid the cheers of the crowd, Zosina noticed that there were lines under the King’s eyes and she told herself he must have been late to bed the night before.
‘Katalin is right,’ she thought. ‘He is a rake and I expect he thinks if he marries me I shall try to stop him from enjoying himself. That is why he dislikes me already, even before we have met.’
The idea was so depressing that for a moment she forgot to bow to the crowd.
Then she realised the women particularly were staring at her and waving directly at her rather than at her grandmother.
With an effort she forced herself to respond.
As she did so, she realised the King was looking at her again and there was no doubt the expression in his eyes had not changed.
If anything, his dislike, if that was what it was, was intensified.
CHAPTER THREE
Zosina looked round the dining room and wished that her sisters could have been there.
It was certainly very different from the sombre rather heavy room they dined in at her father’s Palace.
The light from the gold candelabra glittered on the profusion of gold plate and the table was decorated with orchids, which also festooned the enormous marble fireplace and a number of the marble pillars.
It was a room, she thought, that might have stepped straight out of a Fairy story. She had also thought the same of the rest of the Palace or rather what she had been shown so far.
When she had first seen it standing above the town, white with the sunshine glittering on its windows and what appeared to be a gold dome over the centre of it, she had drawn in her breath.
It flashed through her mind that there might be some compensation in being the wife of a King who disliked her, if she could live in such attractive surroundings.
But even as she raised her eyes to the sun-capped mountains and looked at the green woods that covered the foothills behind the Palace and the flowering trees which lined the roads along which they were proceeding, she knew that the look in the King’s eyes had caused a constriction in her heart that she could not control.
Without appearing to do so, she glanced at him sitting opposite her and realised his hair was far darker than it had appeared in the miniature.
His skin was dark or sunburnt too and his eyes, even apart from the expression in them, seemed almost black.
It made her remember that it was a joke among her sisters when they were angry to say to each other,
“Don’t look at me with black eyes!”
That, she thought, exactly described the way the King looked at her.
Once they had entered the Palace and climbed up red-carpeted steps lined with soldiers in colourful uniforms, she forgot for a moment everything but the beauty of the building.
It was Frau Weber who had made Zosina study architecture and recognise the various periods.
Of course they had started with the Greeks and Zosina had been so thrilled with the pictures of the Acropolis that she had felt nothing could ever equal the symmetry and beauty of the Parthenon.
The Romans had delighted her too and finally, when they had reached the outstanding buildings erected by Robert Adam in the eighteenth century, she had longed, although she dare not say so, to pull down her father’s Palace and erect something that she felt would be appropriate as a Royal residence.
Here, almost like the answer to a prayer, was a Palace that embodied everything that she had ever admired.
Whoever had chosen the decorations inside had kept them uncluttered from fringes and tassels and employed the vivid colours that Zosina knew always made her feel happy.
“I understand we shall be a very small party,” the Queen Mother had said when they retired to their bedrooms to change for dinner. “Tomorrow there is a great banquet being given in my honour and, although they do not say so, in yours, dearest.”
Zosina did not reply and the Queen Mother went on,
“Tonight you will just meet the King’s close relatives, although I expe
ct the Prime Minister and his wife will be there as well.”
She made it sound quite intimate, but there were actually, Zosina counted looking round the table, thirty people seated in what she had learnt was the private dining room of the King.
The King had the Queen Mother on his right and Zosina was on his left.
On her left was the Regent and on his other side an extremely attractive, dark-haired woman with flashing eyes, who was talking to him intimately and made him laugh.
‘I must not sit here dumb and saying nothing,’ Zosina told herself, remembering how often her father had said, ‘nothing is more boring than taking into dinner a woman who is more concerned with her food than with oneself. It does not much matter what you say, but, for Heaven’s sake, talk!’
Feeling a little shy because the King had not addressed a word to her since they had sat down, Zosina turned to him and said,
“I think, Sire, your Palace must be the most beautiful one in the whole of Europe!”
There was a little pause before the King looked at her and she thought for one uncomfortable moment he intended to ignore her remark.
Then he replied,
“You must be easy to please. I intend to make a great many alterations and certainly have it redecorated!”
“Oh, no!” Zosina exclaimed involuntarily, thinking how lovely it was already.
Even as she spoke, she knew she had made a mistake and once again the King was glaring at her with black eyes.
“If you think anybody is going to interfere with me once I am allowed to do what I wish,” he said harshly, “you are very much mistaken.”
He spoke so aggressively that Zosina gave a little cry before she said,
“Oh – please, I was not – meaning what you think I-I – meant. I only – thought the Palace was so – beautiful in every way, I cannot – imagine how it could be improved!”
Because she was embarrassed, her words seemed to tumble over each other as she attempted to explain herself. The King merely remarked unpleasantly,
“You must be very easily pleased!”
He then turned deliberately to speak to the Queen Mother. Zosina drew in her breath.
This was worse than she had even feared and she told herself she might have been tactless, but she had not meant to upset him.
Then she heard the Regent say,
“I heard you admiring the Palace. I am so glad that you find it attractive.”
“I think it is – lovely.”
“That is what I think too.”
Because he seemed kind and understanding, she said in a low voice that only he could hear,
“I did not – mean to – upset His Majesty, and I was trying – to explain that I could not think how, as it looks so beautiful, it could be – improved.”
The Regent smiled.
“We obviously think the same way,” he said, in a tone which she knew was meant to be soothing.
Because she thought the subject must embarrass him if she continued with it, Zosina with an effort, said,
“Count Csàky told me how beautiful Dórsia was, but I think it would be difficult even for the most accomplished poet – to describe adequately what I have seen so far.”
“You are fond of poetry?”
“Yes, very, but I know that some people find it – dull.” As she spoke, she was certain that the King would be one of them.
“I think poetry is rather like music,” the Regent said quietly, “it can often express our feelings or our thoughts as ordinary words would be unable to do.”
“It is strange you should think that,” Zosina said with a sudden warmth in her voice. “Sometimes, when I look at anything very beautiful, I know that it would be impossible to describe it in prose and, as you have said, only music or poetry could – say what it – makes me – feel.”
She thought as she spoke, that there was an expression of surprise in the Regent’s eyes, but she was not sure.
Then, because she thought he would understand, she asked,
“May I ask you – something?”
“Of course,” he replied.
“While I am here, could somebody tell me about Dórsia and its people?”
She paused a moment to say quickly,
“I don’t mean just its history, I mean the real human truths which one cannot – find in – books.”
He did not speak and thinking that he had not understood, she went on,
“It is like not being told how beautiful the Palace is before I came or that the flowers are so brilliant and the people in the streets so colourful. I am frightened that if I am not looking out for what I should see, I might miss something important.”
The Regent still did not reply and after a second she said,
“I-I thought you would – understand – what I am trying to say.”
“I do understand,” he answered. “I understand very well. It is just such a request is one that has never been made to me before.”
“Perhaps you – think it is the – wrong sort of – curiosity,” Zosina murmured.
“It would be impossible for me to think that,” the Regent replied, “because it is exactly what you should want to know.”
She had a strange feeling that he was going to add, ‘but I had not expected you to do so,’ then deliberately prevented himself from saying it.
“What I will do while you are here,” the Regent continued before she could answer, “is to try and give you what I believe is called a ‘thumbnail sketch’ of the people you will meet and the places you will see.”
He gave a little laugh before he added,
“I may not be as eloquent as some of our historical scholars or as indiscreet as the biographers of our important citizens, but I will certainly be shorter and, I hope, more informative.”
“If you would – really do that,” Zosina said, “I should be very – grateful. But I don’t wish to be a – nuisance.”
“You could never be that!” the Regent replied with a smile. “Now let me tell you a little about the people who are here at this table and perhaps it would be politic to start with the Prime Minister.”
He looked past Zosina down the table as he spoke and she had a feeling he deliberately missed out the King who was sitting next to her.
He gave her, as he had suggested, a ‘thumbnail sketch’ of the Prime Minister which not only made her laugh, but at the same time, made her aware of him as a man as well as a personality.
The Regent came next to one of the King’s aunts and he described her in a few words that made Zosina feel as if she was a character in a novel.
He spoke of two more people and then, as he paused, she said eagerly,
“Thank you, thank you, but do go on! You make everybody you have spoken about seem so real and also exciting to get to know. Please don’t stop!”
“I am only too willing to go on,” the Regent replied. “At the same time – ”
He glanced as he spoke towards the King and Zosina realised she had committed a social error in talking to him for so long and not turning to the man on her other side, as she had been taught to do when at luncheon and dinner parties.
She was just about to say, ‘the King does not want to talk to me’, when it struck her that the Regent perhaps wanted to talk to the very attractive lady on his left.
“I am – sorry,” she said humbly. “I am being – selfish.”
As she spoke, she turned her face towards the King to find that he was sitting staring at the base of the candelabrum in front of him as if he had never seen it before.
It did not seem as if he wished to speak to her, but Zosina knew that she must make an effort and, after a moment, she said in a nervous little voice,
“I was wondering – Your Majesty, what we will be – doing tomorrow. I know there is to be a – banquet in the – evening.”
“Then you know more than I do!” the King replied disagreeably. “You don’t suppose I have had anything to do with arranging all this ballyh
oo, do you?”
Zosina ignored his rudeness and went on,
“I suppose State visits and that – sort of thing must seem very – commonplace to you, Sire, but, as I have never been on one before, I find it very exciting!”
“Exciting!” the King exclaimed. “I can tell you it is a deadly bore from start to finish. The only event slightly amusing might be the masked ball.”
There was just a touch of interest in his voice and Zosina said quickly,
“A masked ball sounds thrilling. Does it take place here in the Palace?”
“Good God, no!” the King replied. “It’s for the people not for us. We are supposed to sit on our gilded thrones, taking no part in it.”
“How disappointing,” Zosina sighed. “I have never been to a masked ball, but I have heard of them and it must be fun not to know whether you are dancing with a Count or a candlestick maker, a King or a chimney sweep!”
As she spoke, she hoped that what she said would make him laugh, but he turned to look at her with what she thought was a different expression from the one he had used before.
“Are you suggesting that I should go to the ball?” he enquired.
“I may be wrong, Sire, but I have a – feeling you have been to – one already,” Zosina replied.
He stared at her, as if he was not quite certain how to take her reply. Then he said,
“You are trying to trap me. I am not going to answer that question.”
“Of course I am not trying to trap you,” Zosina answered. “If I was King, I would certainly go to a masked ball, if I had the chance.”
He did not reply and after a moment she added,
“Now I think of it, in history Kings have always gone about their countries in disguise. Francois I, for instance, used to go out every night, wandering round the town to mix with – his subjects.”
She was going to say, ‘to mix with beautiful women,’ which was what she remembered she had read in a somewhat racy French biography.
Then she thought to say such a thing would not only be indiscreet but perhaps somewhat improper.
“Who was Francois I?” the King asked.
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