A Dangerous Disguise

by Barbara Cartland

"Suppose someone asks you to say something in Oltenitzan?"

  "Aristocratic Oltenitzans speak German, just like aristocratic Russians speak French," said Ola triumphantly. "Thank goodness you and Mama managed to teach it to me."

  "You seem to have thought of everything."

  "No, I haven't thought of anything at all. I'm making it up as I go along. That's the fun."

  "And when something goes really wrong?"

  "Nonsense," said Ola blithely. "How can anything go wrong?"

  *

  It was Ola's first experience of sleeping on a train, and it was like being rocked to sleep in a cradle. She awoke feeling refreshed, and sat looking out of the window at the English countryside rushing by, until they reached Euston Station, where trains from the north arrived in London.

  To someone used to living in the country the huge station, with its vast stone arch, was a shock.

  "I didn't know there were so many people in the world," Ola confided. "What do we do now?"

  "We find a porter, and the porter gets us a cab."

  Greta's air of lofty authority was impressive, and soon she had a porter scurrying to do her bidding.

  "The Hotel Imperial, Piccadilly," she told the cab driver.

  All the sights and sounds of London seemed to converge on Ola as they travelled through the streets. So much noise, bustle and colour, and here she was, in the middle of it.

  The Hotel Imperial was the most imposing building Ola had ever seen, even bigger than the great house at home.

  The first thing she saw as she entered was a huge copy of the official Jubilee photograph. It was a three-quarters view of Queen Victoria, sitting, looking into space with gentle melancholy. She had ruled the Empire for half a century and her eyes were full of the knowledge.

  On her head she wore a bonnet, whose wide lace strings tied under her chin and streamed down her breast. Beneath that bonnet the face was round and plump, with a small mouth. It might have been insipid but for a large, sharp nose that added shrewdness and character to the whole.

  Both women stood for several moments looking at that tiny lady who dominated her age, and made strong men tremble.

  "So that's her," Greta murmured.

  "Yes, that's her," Ola said.

  She began to look up in awe at the marble pillars and lofty ceilings, until Greta muttered in German,

  "Don't do that. Remember you live in a palace, and this is nothing by comparison."

  "Yes," Ola said hastily, in the same language.

  "Perhaps it would please Your Royal Highness to sit here on this sofa while I deal with the man at the desk."

  Ola had to smother a laugh at the sight of Greta advancing on the desk as though she had a bad smell under her nose. She presented the letter from the hotel confirming the reservation, and explained that the names 'Mr. McNewton and Miss McNewton' were a cover. Her Royal Highness was travelling incognito.

  After that all was bustle and deference. The manager personally escorted the 'Princess' up to her suite, followed by a stream of porters carrying her bags.

  Once there, her 'lady in waiting' inspected the suite minutely before pronouncing it just about tolerable for her royal mistress. Ola, who had never been anywhere so luxurious in her life, struggled to keep a straight face.

  When the bags were finally in place, the manager bowed himself out and the door closed behind him. At once the two women collapsed with mirth, hugging each other, rocking back and forth.

  The adventure had begun.

  *

  Ola slept peacefully all through the night, and when she woke the sun was coming in through the sides of the curtains.

  She drew them back and saw that the hotel overlooked a park. Already there were people moving about under the trees. Men were trotting past on extremely fine horses.

  The previous evening she and Greta had dined in the suite and gone to bed early, to sleep off the long journey. Now she felt fresh and ready for anything.

  Greta bustled in to help her dress, and send a message downstairs that they required breakfast.

  "What do you wish to do today?" she asked. "Visit the shops? Travel on the underground railway?"

  "Greta, do people really go through a tunnel under the earth?" Ola asked.

  "Of course. It's been happening for over twenty years. It's no novelty any more."

  "It is if you come from Ben Torrach," Ola said with a chuckle. "I'm longing to see it, but not today. On my first day in London it is appropriate to pay my respects to Queen Victoria.

  "Ola, please be serious."

  "I am serious."

  "You cannot just walk into Buckingham Palace."

  "I am royalty offering my congratulations, and a suitable gift, to a great Queen on the occasion of her Golden Jubilee. Nothing could be more proper."

  "What gift?"

  "That exquisite French vase that I packed just before we left."

  "You can't do it," insisted Greta, half shocked, half amused.

  "Greta, I will wager you a new hat that I get into the Palace and out again without anyone discovering the truth."

  "Splendid," said Greta with spirit. "I need a new hat."

  Ola threw her an impish look. "Now what shall I wear?"

  Still grumbling, Greta took out one of Ola's smartest walking gowns, with a matching hat. Ola had never worn them before, because they had seemed too sophisticated for the wilds of Scotland. Now she was in the right place for such clothes.

  Just before she left she took a plain card from her bag and wrote on it:

  'To Her Majesty Queen Victoria, with respect and admiration.

  From Princess Relola of Oltenitza.'

  Underneath she added the date: June 13th, 1887.

  Downstairs Greta led the way out to a cab and gave the driver the address, Buckingham Palace. Deeply impressed he touched his hat and held the door open for the two great ladies.

  The carriage did not take long to reach Buckingham Palace.

  It was stopped at the gates. A man in uniform opened the door to ask,

  "May I enquire, Madam, for what reason you are coming here at this moment?"

  It was Greta who replied.

  "This is Her Royal Highness, Princess Relola of Oltenitza," she told him, "bringing greetings and a gift to Her Majesty on this important occasion."

  The officer saluted, shut the door and said to the driver,

  "Pass on."

  The carriage drove to the back of the building.

  Ola saw there was a door with two sentries on either side of it. As the cab drew up another man came forward, opened the door and she stepped out. Then, followed by Greta, she walked inside.

  There she saw a dark suited man, standing beside a table on which there were a number of parcels which had been handed in. She walked imperiously towards him and spoke, taking care to assume an accent like Greta's so that he should not suspect that she was English.

  "Princess Relola of Oltenitza. My gift is not only from myself but from all my countrymen, who wish Her Majesty well on this great occasion."

  The man bowed, and ceremoniously received the parcel from her.

  She had done it. She had managed to get into the Palace, and had now only to leave to have secured a triumph. But a little imp of daring, suppressed too long, prodded her to say.

  "I have come a very long way from a distant country. I wonder if I might see some part of the Palace before I go."

  He looked surprised. But then another man appeared through a door and he said,

  "A moment please, Your Royal Highness."

  He hastened to the newcomer and spoke in a fierce whisper. Ola could just hear odd words.

  " - Palace - Princess Relola - what am I to do, Your Grace?"

  The man he had called 'Your Grace' then said, "I will see to it."

  He walked towards Ola and she had time to see that he was about thirty years old, and very good looking.

  "Good morning," he said, with a respectful bow. "I understand that Your R
oyal Highness has brought a present for the Queen. Her Majesty will be most grateful to you."

  "Do you think she would allow me to see a little of her Palace?" Ola asked with a smile. "I've come all the way from the Balkans, and my people will want to know how your Palace compares with ours."

  "I will show you what I can," the man promised. "But it's really the job of your Embassy to arrange anything like this."

  Ola gave a cry.

  "Hush! Hush!" she exclaimed. "I don't want them to know I am here."

  He raised his eyebrows.

  "But why not?"

  "Because if they find out," she explained, "They will insist on my undertaking a lot of duties, meeting people I don't want to meet, most of them from the Balkans. In which case I might as well have stayed where I was. I've come to see London, and while I'm here I want to meet only Londoners."

  He laughed. He had an engaging twinkle in his eyes.

  "I can see your point," he said. "Very well, I'll show you what I can of the Palace but you must be careful not to tell your friends, otherwise I'll be overwhelmed with people asking the same thing."

  "Oh, that is so kind of you!" Ola exclaimed.

  "Come along. I'm breaking all the rules on your behalf but never mind."

  As they moved in the direction of the stairs Greta began to move with them, but Ola turned and said coolly,

  "Lady Krasler, you have our permission to remain here."

  "It might be more suitable if I – "

  "Here, if you please."

  "Don't worry," her escort said to Greta. "I'll take great care of her."

  Greta flung her a look of indignation, but Ola refused to see it. She was determined to do this on her own.

  He was, after all, an extremely good looking young man.

  She took his arm and they began to mount a flight of broad stairs.

  "I've not introduced myself yet," he said. "I'm the Duke of Camborne. I'm on duty here to attend to the visitors and, incidentally, to make sure that they don't take away any souvenirs."

  "You can be certain they'll try," Ola replied. "After all, it's something they'll want to remember, and what could be better than one of the paintings or even a smaller object."

  "I believe all the small objects have been moved out of reach," said the Duke, "and I suspect some of the pictures are firmly hammered into place."

  "I am curious," Ola said, "to see if this Palace, of which I have heard so much, is as marvellous as people say."

  "I only hope you won't be disappointed."

  They had reached the top of the stairs by now. He took her into a room where the walls were hung with paintings, and told her the names of the artists – Rembrandt, Vermeer, Holbein.

  Ola's head began to spin. So many masterpieces, all in one place and all owned by the Queen.

  After a while the Duke asked,

  "Have you really come all the way from the Balkans just to be here for Her Majesty's Golden Jubilee? Surely you have not travelled alone?"

  "Alone apart from my lady-in-waiting, whom you saw downstairs. For once I wanted to be free to spend my time as I pleased, without having to think of etiquette every moment. And it's nice to be able to forget all the worries, as well."

  "What worries does Oltenitza have?"

  "The Russians. Everyone knows that they are trying to gobble up the whole of the Balkan principalities one by one. Only those to whom Her Majesty has been kind enough to give her protection, feel safe."

  "Her Majesty has done her best," said the Duke. "She has already arranged a number of marriages. In fact they call her the 'Matchmaker of Europe.'"

  "You must be very, very proud of her. I can assure you we in Oltenitza admire her greatly."

  By this time they had moved into the Throne Room.

  "Is this where the debutantes are presented?" Ola asked.

  "That's right. And also high ranking foreign ladies. The seats on either side of the room are filled with the relations of the Ambassadors of the various countries.

  "The young women themselves wait in a sitting-room until their names are called. Then they are led in by whoever is presenting them."

  "It all sounds so exciting," Ola said, "and I would love to be presented myself."

  "Of course you must be," the Duke replied. "I am sure Her Majesty would be delighted to invite you to Windsor Castle when all this excitement is over, if you remain in England for long."

  "I will remain in England as long as I can," Ola told him. "I want to see your country as it is normally, and not just when it's celebrating a special occasion."

  "I am afraid you might be disappointed with London and find it like every other capital city," the Duke said. Then he smiled. "All the same I would like to show you London at night. Perhaps you will dine with me."

  Her heart beat with excitement. This was taking her gamble further than she had ever dreamed. Did she dare? Or was the risk too great?

  "I would be delighted – " she said quickly.

  "Would tonight be too soon? Or have you some other engagement?" enquired the Duke.

  "Tonight would be very pleasant. But can you change your plans so close to the festivities? I'm sure you're very busy."

  "Yes, Your Royal Highness, I am very busy, but I can assure you that when I want something I invariably get it, because I'm so determined. Now, I'm determined to give you dinner and for you to tell me more about yourself."

  A little tremor went through her. Talking about herself would be dangerous, she knew.

  But then her head went up. What was an adventure without risk?

  "I shall be happy to do so," she said.

  CHAPTER TWO

  As they continued walking through the Palace the Duke said,

  "I want to know how you are brave enough to come here almost alone, with only one lady-in-waiting to keep you safe."

  "But I'm quite safe," Ola said, laughing. "I can look after myself. In Oltenitza the ladies are taught to be very strong. We ride hard and learn to shoot."

  The shooting was true for Ola. Papa had taught her, and praised her straight aim.

  "You can shoot?" he asked, amused.

  "Why do you laugh? I'm an excellent shot. I can hit a bull's eye at fifty paces – at least – that is – no, take no notice of me."

  "Why not? I'm interested in a lady who can shoot so well."

  But Ola had recollected that gentlemen scorned ladies who were good at masculine pursuits, and the last thing that a clever woman did was to announce the fact.

  "But I cannot shoot at all," she laughed. "I was just boasting. Tell me some more about London, you must know it very well."

  "I can hardly call myself a Londoner," the Duke said.

  "But I'll try to make sure you enjoy England and not just London."

  "I would love to see more of England."

  "Tonight I'll take you to a quiet place for dinner, where we can escape the festivities for a while. In my opinion they can sometimes be overdone, and last too long."

  "That's exactly what I feel about anything which is royal," Ola agreed. "Every ceremony is dragged out until you feel you want to run away, and be alone."

  "I should think someone as beautiful as you must find it hard to be alone," the Duke said.

  Ola laughed.

  "Thank you for the compliment, but I like my own company. Then I can dream of all the marvellous things I might do if I were free."

  "What would the marvellous things be?" he enquired, smiling.

  "I will make a list and tell you tonight," Ola said.

  As they walked downstairs at the end of the tour the Duke said,

  "I am sorry but I must leave you now. I have to be on duty at a grand luncheon Her Majesty is giving for overseas visitors. Of course, you should really be one of them."

  "No! No!" Ola exclaimed. "I have to go to too many of that sort of function."

  "But are you quite certain I shouldn't contact your Ambassador?"

  "I should very much dislike it if you d
id that," Ola replied with perfect truth. "He'll want to move me into the Embassy."

  "Very well, I'll respect your wishes. But do you mean that you don't intend to meet Her Majesty at all? Is there nothing that you wish to say to her?"

  "Nothing except my greetings that I have already delivered with my gift," said Ola. "I should like to see her, of course, but only from a distance – perhaps when she is out riding in her carriage. If you can tell me when she means to do that, I shall be glad."

  "Very well, if I hear news of such an event, I will let you know. But I must warn you that this happens very rarely. Her Majesty lives mostly in seclusion, and it is rare for her to be as accessible as she has become during the Jubilee celebrations. She likes to spend more time at Frogmore just now."

  "Frogmore?"

  "It's near Windsor. Her husband, the late Prince Albert was buried there, and although he has been dead for over twenty-five years she feels his loss particularly at this time.

  "She should have celebrated her Jubilee with him at her side, and it breaks her heart that she cannot. So she stays at Frogmore and then takes the train to London, and travels by carriage to Buckingham Palace."

  "But is it an open carriage, so that she can be seen?" Old asked eagerly.

  "Sometimes. It depends if she is tired. And of course she will travel in an open carriage to Westminster Abbey for the service of thanksgiving."

  "Thank you. Somehow I shall contrive to see her. I must."

  "If it's so important, let me take you to her."

  "No," she said quickly. "It must be from a distance. I can't explain. I have a reason but – I can't tell you what it is."

  "Very well, as you wish. Now, about tonight. At which hotel are you staying?"

  "The Imperial."

  "One of the best hotels in London. I'll be there at a quarter to eight."

  "I'll be waiting for you," she told him, "and I'm known for being very punctual."

  As they reached the bottom of the stairs, the Duke said suddenly,

  "You must promise me not to vanish."

  "Why should I vanish?"

  "Because you are so unique. I'm afraid that, just as you appeared unexpectedly, so you'll vanish and I'll think I've been dreaming."

  "I promise you not to vanish - until after tonight."

  Ola held out her hand and he took it in both of his.