It was with a flourish that the Marquis drew up his horses outside Marlborough House.
The groom, who had been sitting up behind, took the reins from him and he and Lanthia stepped out.
Once again she felt she was walking into a sublime dream.
They were greeted in the entrance hall by a Scottish ghillie in Highland dress and a scarlet-coated footman with a powdered wig took the Marquis’s hat and gloves.
A butler then escorted them to a sitting room where Princess Alexandra was waiting to receive them.
As she held out her hand in delight to the Marquis, she looked so beautiful that Lanthia thought,
‘I know I am dreaming. I only hope I don’t wake up too soon!’
CHAPTER FIVE
Ever since she was small Lanthia had heard so much about Alexandra, the Princess of Wales.
As she became older she began to realise that Her Royal Highness was completely adored and idolised by the whole country. She was just so beautiful, pure, radiant and gracious that the public considered her their fairy Princess.
Because Lanthia had lived a very cloistered life in the country, she had no idea of what the Marquis and many others in the know understood only too well.
It was that Princess Alexandra had won for herself a popularity never previously accorded to a Royal Consort, a great deal of it being due to the fact that the Prince of Wales was known to be unfaithful.
As Lanthia swept to the floor in a deep curtsy, she thought that, as she had once read, that the Princess looked like ‘a fairy doll on top of England’s Christmas Tree’.
The Prince came forward to greet her saying,
“You are now looking even prettier than last night, Miss Grenville!”
Lanthia smiled at him and the Prince introduced her to his other guests.
To her rapt surprise among them were Mr. and Mrs. William Gladstone. He had been Britain’s Prime Minister until Mr. Benjamin Disraeli had superseded him.
However, Lanthia had read in the newspapers that there was every likelihood of Mr. Gladstone coming back again with the Liberals winning the next election.
A number of people thought it very strange that the Gladstones should be such close friends of the Prince and Princess of Wales as it was well known that the Queen had a strong dislike for him while he was Prime Minister.
What very few people realised was that the Princess preferred as her guests, those gentlemen who actually ‘did’ something, such as politicians, churchmen and musicians.
This had meant that Sir Arthur Sullivan and Signor Tosti were very regular visitors at Marlborough House and although most of the aristocratic families adored Princess Alexandra, their interests were very different from hers.
She had confided to one of her close friends that the conversation of the British ‘upper crust’ always involved killing things, such as birds and wild animals; but where she was concerned, she preferred life and happiness.
The Prince next introduced Lanthia to Mr. Oliver Montagu, who her father had often talked about.
He was the Equerry in attendance on the Princess – he was always at her side to protect and serve her in a way that many people found touching.
Among several other guests that Lanthia met was Lord Hardwicke.
The Marquis knew and decided to tell Lanthia later that, because the Prince was so fussy about his appearance, he had introduced a number of fashion innovations of his own.
One such innovation was a short navy-blue jacket, which was adopted for dinner by his whole entourage as well as all ship’s Officers. When the Prince appeared wearing gloves with black stitching, all the young gentlemen in White’s were quick to imitate him.
His friends all wanted to please him and so Lord Hardwicke had inspired his hat-maker to produce what the Marlborough House set acclaimed as a ‘perfect topper.’
As the guests eventually sat down to luncheon, Lanthia felt everything was so informal that it was difficult to believe she was actually in the Royal Household.
The Marquis, although Lanthia had no idea he was doing so, was watching her carefully.
It was not only to see that she did nothing wrong, but he was really wondering what would be her reaction at finding herself sitting down to a meal with the Prince and Princess of Wales.
Princess Alexandra had indeed managed to capture the hearts of the British people when, despite her beauty, all the odds might have been against it.
Queen Victoria had been only too well aware from the example of the behaviour of her uncle, King William IV, that her family were extremely hot-blooded.
She had been faced with the problem of finding a suitable wife for her eldest son, who would surely inherit this characteristic.
The Court was astounded when she selected a little known Danish Princess, a choice that from a political point of view was extremely embarrassing.
But Alexandra was, however, undoubtedly the most beautiful Princess in the whole of Europe and at eighteen she became the perfect wife for a somewhat over-vigorous young man of twenty.
That the Prince at once fell madly in love with her was a justification of his mother’s choice.
Yet there was no doubt that the Queen thoroughly disapproved of many of their friends, their parties and the manner in which they lived.
On one occasion she commented with disapproval that Alexandra had all her five children in the room when she was writing letters and no nurse in attendance. In fact she and the Prince allowed their children to climb over and around them like puppies.
The Princess went even further. When she could, she would go to the nursery, put on a flannel apron and bathe the children herself. Then she would rock them to sleep in their little beds.
It was all a question of being young, energetic and living life to the full.
Yet what no one could understand, as the Marquis knew only too well, was that when the public realised the Prince was being unfaithful, Alexandra never complained nor appeared to be in any way upset by him.
Whether she was or was not in private, no one ever knew.
It was Oliver Montagu who kept her from being talked about and he made sure that she could not be harmed by any gossip leaking from their home.
Looking closely at the Princess across the table, the Marquis could see that naturally she had changed during the seventeen years of her marriage.
Yet Alexandra was surely still incredibly beautiful, but she was obviously no longer as mobile as the young bride of 1863.
Rheumatic fever had left her with a stiff knee and this prevented her from skating on the Sandringham ponds or dancing in the ballroom.
But she was still graceful and still had a radiant smile that seemed to welcome everyone.
And she was apparently still extremely happy with her husband.
The Prince always treated her with the greatest kindness and respect, and even his closest friends had never heard him complain at her frequent unpunctuality.
The Marquis knew, because he was so often with the Prince, that he was always watchful to see that every respect was shown to his wife.
He had been a guest when the Duchess of Marlborough, attending a dinner in their honour, had worn a diamond crescent instead of the traditional tiara.
The Prince of Wales had looked disapprovingly at her and then said,
“The Princess has taken the trouble to wear a tiara. Why have you not done so?”
The Duchess had been embarrassed and needless to say the story had flown round the town, but the Marquis had thought the Prince was definitely in the right.
It had been a special honour at this luncheon party that Lanthia should be seated on the Prince’s left with Mrs. Gladstone on his right.
Watching them across the table, the Marquis saw Lanthia chatting away in her usual enthusiastic manner.
She was making the Prince laugh and he wondered how many young girls of her age would have been so self-composed.
Then he considered that maybe Princess Alexandra ha
d been the same when she had first arrived in England to marry an unknown Prince whom she had never met.
She must have been a vision of loveliness just as, he considered, Lanthia was now.
It struck him that in many ways the two women resembled each other. They each had large blue eyes set in a heart-shaped face and their hair was like gold.
Then as he continued seeking resemblances he was aware again that the Princess was undoubtedly beginning to look a little older and he knew she was having difficulty in hearing what people said.
The Prince was laughing once again at something Lanthia had said to him.
The Marquis noticed a certain glitter in His Royal Highness’s eyes that made him stiffen.
He recognised all too well what that look meant.
In his friendship with the Prince he had known it was always a danger signal to any woman to whom His Royal Highness was talking.
Quite unexpectedly the Marquis felt angry.
Last night, because he knew the Prince so well, he had suspected that his passion for Lillie Langtry was now on the wane.
It was nothing he could put into words and yet he was aware, as if the Prince had told him that the writing was on the wall.
Another passionate liaison between him and a great beauty was clearly coming to an end.
What the Marquis had never expected was that in inviting Lanthia to luncheon, the Prince meant something more than that he was anxious to show his affection for an old friend.
Yet there was now no doubt from the way he was looking at Lanthia that he found her entrancing.
It was with difficulty that the Marquis did not rise and take Lanthia away at once.
He had seen so many women succumb to the Prince as if he was a tidal wave they could not resist. The mere fact that he was even near to them would start their hearts beating faster.
Then he told himself he was being absurd.
How could the Prince ever consider Lanthia to be anything other than a young, unsophisticated and innocent girl? Plus she was engaged, as far as he knew, to be married to one of his closest friends.
At the same time he was well aware that the Prince did not bother with any conventions, rules or gentlemanly code of behaviour when it concerned his heart.
He always found a beautiful woman irresistible and when he did so there were no barriers he was not prepared to break down. In fact there were no steps he would not take to capture her.
‘It would be a crime against nature itself to let that happen,’ the Marquis decided, ‘where young Lanthia is concerned.’
He appreciated that she had found everything they had done since he first met her part of her dream world and there had quite obviously been no reality at all about their encounter.
But she would find it very real indeed if the Prince started to make advances towards her.
Which, the Marquis now suspected, was already in his mind.
‘I will not allow it!’ he fumed and wondered what on earth he could do to could prevent it.
The dishes provided for the guests at Marlborough House were invariably delicious, but the meals were never long drawn out affairs.
As soon as they had finished the dessert course, the Princess took the ladies back into the sitting room.
Lanthia had hardly looked at the room earlier and she now saw that it was heavily panelled with the sofas and easy chairs upholstered in leather of the same colour as the rich blue velvet curtains.
There was a large writing desk, which she guessed was used by the Prince, close to a table strewn with documents, reference books and newspapers.
There were two dogs lying on the rug in front of the fireplace and in the fashion set by the Queen at Windsor Castle there were enormous displays of family photographs everywhere.
But Lanthia only had a little time to look round.
As soon as the gentlemen had joined them from the dining room, the Marquis proposed that they should leave.
Lanthia was reluctant to do so, but she rose to her feet obediently, feeling as she did so that the Gladstones had settled down to stay for a much longer time.
She said her goodbyes to the Princess, curtsied and thanked her for inviting her to luncheon.
“It has most certainly been, Your Royal Highness, a wonderful experience which I shall always remember.”
“You must come again,” said Princess Alexandra, “the Prince and I are always glad to meet any friends of Rake’s.”
She smiled at the Marquis and he kissed her hand.
“You have always been so very kind to me, ma’am, and one day perhaps I shall be able to repay you.”
He was ruminating that he was doing so already in taking Lanthia away!
His suspicions aroused at luncheon were increased when the Prince walked with them to the top of the stairs.
“I have found Lanthia even more enchanting that I did last night, Rake,” he confided. “We must fix up a little dinner party before the end of the week when I can see you both again.”
“What can I say, sir, except that I am very grateful to you.”
He could not, however, repress a touch of sharpness in his voice, as he was well aware that the Prince was not listening to him, but kept his eyes on Lanthia.
She was certainly the loveliest sight for anyone to behold.
The Marquis took his hat from one of the footmen and noticed that the Prince had not returned to the sitting room, but was watching them quizzically from behind a Chinese screen.
He pretended that he did not see him as he followed Lanthia through the door and they waited while his chaise drew up in front of them.
They climbed in and as they were driving away, Lanthia said,
“Thank you, thank you so much for taking me to Marlborough House. It was really a wonderful occasion I shall always remember.”
“And doubtless the Prince will remember you too!” the Marquis murmured.
Lanthia gave a little laugh.
“I think that is extremely unlikely, but he is very interesting and it was a great privilege for me to sit next to him at luncheon.”
“I thought you might find the occasion rather dull with everyone so much older than you.”
“I thought all the guests were fascinating including Mr. Gladstone.”
“At your age,” the Marquis remarked, driving carefully through the bustling traffic, “you should be with young gentlemen and finding yourself a suitable husband.”
Lanthia grinned.
“Now you sound like my mother! That is what she will expect me to do when we come up to London next month.”
“It is what I hope you will do too. You are so very beautiful, Lanthia, and there will be plenty of young men who will be eager to marry you.”
“I have no wish to be married until I find exactly the right person,” insisted Lanthia.
“What do you think he will be like?”
Lanthia was silent for a while and then she replied as if she was thinking out her answer very carefully,
“I am not exactly sure what he will look like, but I will know at once when I meet him that he is the one man I am looking for.”
The Marquis considered this to be a rather strange answer.
After passing a carriage that was going very slowly in front of him, he enquired,
“Who are you looking for exactly? Someone with an important title?”
Lanthia smiled.
“No, of course not! Someone who will understand me and what I am thinking.”
“Is that so very difficult? And naturally, like every other young woman, you hope to wear a coronet on your head and throw large parties like the Duke of Sutherland’s last night.”
There was a cynical note in his voice.
“That is not what I want!” she asserted positively. “I want something very different.”
“I don’t believe you. You are just trying to make it sound more difficult than it really is!”
Lanthia did not answer and after a moment he said
,
“Supposing, now just supposing, that someone like me asked you to be my wife, what would you say?”
Lanthia did not hesitate.
“I would say no. Although it would be very kind of you to think of it.”
The Marquis was astonished.
He had expected her, as he had mentioned himself, to look coy or perhaps shy and avoid the question.
Because he could not help being curious, he asked her,
“Why would you refuse me?”
“It is rather difficult to put into words, but there is something missing.”
The Marquis turned his head to look at her in sheer amazement.
“In me?” he questioned.
Lanthia nodded.
“I cannot really explain it, but I shall never be able to say ‘yes’ to any man until I am convinced that he is the one who is with me in my dreams.”
The Marquis could not think of any answer to her.
In fact he was completely astounded.
He was so used to women clinging onto him and falling into his arms. They would look at him passionately almost before he was even introduced to them.
He could not believe that Lanthia had actually said she would not marry him even if he asked her to do so.
It was naturally something he had no intention of doing.
Equally how was it possible that she was the only woman in the world he had ever met who did not desire him as her husband or lover?
‘I must be growing old,’ he pondered to himself, ‘and perhaps I am losing my attractions!’
At the same time he had seen the fire glowing in the Contessa’s eyes yesterday, and the same familiar flicker was very present in the eyes of several of the ladies he had spoken to at the Duke’s dinner party.
This young girl from the country had been with him in the most unusual circumstances during the last twenty-four hours.
Yet she had told him quite firmly and truthfully that something was missing in him.
‘I just do not understand,’ mused the Marquis.
He drove on further and as they proceeded down Regent Street he was aware that Lanthia was looking at the shops with delight.
She was obviously completely unaware that she had dropped a bombshell at his feet.
As they neared The Langham, the Marquis said,
Lovers in London Page 9