Amberley Chronicles Boxset II (Amberley Chronicles Box Sets Book 2)

by May Burnett

  “It is, especially as I have yet to meet my betrothed, the Princess Gisela von und zu Obernberg. Father writes that she is coming here with her entourage. But how can that be, without an invitation?”

  “I see a letter from the Foreign Office among my own correspondence,” Lord Amberley said. “No doubt to apprise me of the planned visit. If it is in the national interest, of course the Princess is most welcome.”

  “You really have never met her?” Lady Amberley’s brows were creased. “Princess Gisela of Obernberg, you say? The name does not ring a bell. She cannot have been active in London society at all.”

  “Maybe she comes straight from her home in Germany. Where is it exactly?” Lady Minerva asked.

  “Between Saxony and Bavaria,” her brother James informed her. “It is a small enough place, the southernmost Protestant principality in German lands. I wonder if she has any English? If she was promised an English groom, it is likely.”

  Rook was about to mention that he understood German tolerably well, and was fluent in French, but thought better of it. As long as the Princess did not realise that he understood her language, he might learn what she really thought of the match from her interactions with her retinue.

  George had in the meantime scanned his own letter. “It is as I surmised. Marianne, we’ll have to prepare several more rooms. The best suite available for the Princess, of course, and another nearby for the Komtesse, her companion.”

  “Is Komtesse the German word for Countess?” Charlotte asked. “It sounds similar.”

  “No,” Rook explained, “Countess would be Gräfin. A Komtesse is the daughter of a Count, like young Lady Verena.”

  “So the companion is unmarried as well,” Lady Amberley mused. “I wonder if she is some prune-faced old dragon.”

  “We will make her welcome regardless,” her husband said. “Who knows if the ladies are any happier at this development, than Rook? Don’t deny it, your face as you read that letter said it all. You looked like a man who had just suffered a nasty shock.”

  “I trust you will not say so to this Princess,” Rook warned.

  “Of course not, my dear fellow. It will be difficult enough to woo the woman under these circumstances. We are not going to put any additional stones in your path. Unless you want us to do so?”

  “Remember that I have not yet met the lady. How should I answer that?”

  “None of us has met her,” James Ellsworthy said. “Personally, I would not have liked it if my father had arranged a marriage without even consulting me. Last year I swore an oath that I would let my own children choose their partners without interference.”

  Rook could not help wishing that his father had sworn a similar oath.

  “The age difference would bother me, I admit,” Henry Beecham said. “Eight years is rather a lot, especially if the woman is the elder.”

  “If it were the man eight years older, it would be considered entirely normal,” Charlotte pointed out, but without great conviction.

  “Because men can sire children until old age, but a woman’s best childbearing years are before thirty,” Lady Tembley said trenchantly. “How could the Duke not have considered this, in arranging the marriage of his heir?”

  “Maybe he considered the fact that he has three other sons to carry on the line,” Rook said. “Forgive me, I need to think this over in privacy, and I find my appetite has deserted me.” He put down his napkin and left the Golden Salon under the sympathetic and shocked eyes of the others.

  He badly needed to break something. In another’s house that was not easily accomplished, so he went outdoors and got some shooting practice instead. He imagined that the target was whoever had suggested the match in the Foreign Office, - he would discover the fellow’s name as soon as possible.

  Rook hit the bull’s eye every single time.

  Chapter 3

  In a sitting room of the Austrian Ambassador’s residence, Anna was reading to the Princess. It was one of her less onerous duties, though boring since she already knew the book. Goethe’s Wahlverwandtschaften was full of foolish people falling in love with unavailable partners. It had a confusing plot, but then none of the author’s longer prose works had equalled the sensational success of his first, The Sorrows of Young Werther, notorious for inspiring several imitation suicides.

  The narrative was not holding the Princess’s attention either. “Surely they should be here already,” Gisela said fretfully. “It is most unpleasant to have to wait for news like this. The English have not dealt well with us.”

  She had a point, but Anna saw little use in reinforcing Gisela’s already huge sense of ill-usage. What would her aunt have said? “Politics are seldom beneficial to the people they directly involve, Your Royal Highness. Since we cannot change the outcome, all that remains is to accept and deal with it as gracefully as we may.”

  “Don’t try to soothe me with sententious wisdom. You are not old enough to carry it off.”

  Anna suppressed a sigh. Princess Gisela was rarely inclined to accept advice, especially from a younger and prettier lady. She had made it clear that she resented having Anna as her only companion of rank; a companion who had to be dragooned into the role by a direct order of Gisela’s father, their Prince. The reason for the choice was obvious enough: Anna was fluent in English, and had acquaintances in London, due to her father’s stint as a diplomat there a few years ago. It was through Anna’s connections that they were housed for free in this spacious Residence, rather than having to spend time and money renting their own house.

  Under different circumstances Anna would have enjoyed this journey to the city where she had lived as an eager girl from fourteen to eighteen years old, just before her come-out in the country of her birth.

  Reigning houses rarely considered the interests and plans of their subjects when they needed a service. If not for this sudden journey to England, Anna would even now be preparing her wedding to her betrothed, Count Rudolf von Gorten. His face flashed before her eyes – brown curls, blue eyes, moustache; the whole framed by the shiny and plumed uniform helmet of a Colonel of the Obernberg guard. She had rarely seen him out of uniform.

  A little guiltily, Anna realised that she did not miss her fiancé. And he, with his mistress, a well-known opera singer, was hardly likely to miss her. Life could be dispiriting and sordid, not only for forgotten and useless Princesses.

  “Are you wool-gathering, Komtesse? Go on reading!”

  Anna obeyed. At least as Rudolf’s wife she would no longer have to jump to the commands of the princess, although she would have to swear to obey him. Would he prove to be kind and courteous? That he was flaunting that opera singer during their engagement was not a good sign.

  A knock on the door of their sitting room interrupted the reading. It was the embassy major-domo, announcing the arrival of the Hon. Mr. John Cholmondeley, of the Foreign Office, and Count Reinprecht, their special envoy, entrusted with finalising the details of the marriage.

  The two gentlemen bowed deeply. “Your Royal Highness, all is arranged, and the papers signed,” Count Reinprecht announced, his voice between relieved and apprehensive. “Notice of your forthcoming marriage to Lord Molyneux has already been sent to the papers. All that remains it to fix the date for the wedding, and negotiate the final settlements.”

  “A mere Marquis – this is not what we were led to expect,” Gisela said, not hiding her displeasure.

  “If you will pardon me, Your Royal Highness,” Mr. Cholmondeley said suavely, his German only slightly accented, “there is nothing ‘mere’ about Lord Molyneux. He is widely admired, a very handsome and clever young man, a noted rider and sportsman, and heir to one of the country’s oldest and richest families. Moreover, I have it on good authority that young ladies find him quite irresistible. Since we do not have a Prince to offer you, of all the other possibilities in England or Scotland, he is the best we could come up with. And a future duke is nothing to look down upon; there are very few of
them.”

  Gisela still frowned. To Anna, the man sounded too good to be true. ‘Irresistible to young ladies’ was probably a euphemism for a notorious womaniser. “What of the age difference?” she asked.

  “That does not signify, compared to his insufficient rank,” Gisela said impatiently. “Dynastic marriages often have such disparities.”

  Anna reflected that it might well signify for the bridegroom.

  “Indeed, youth and – err – vigour are not necessarily disadvantages in a husband,” Count Reinprecht assured the Princess. “I have heard excellent reports of the young man from several independent sources. And now to my other news: it has been arranged for you to get to know him in an informal setting. Molyneux is staying with the Earl Amberley at the latter’s seat for the summer, in the picturesque lake region. The Earl and Countess will be happy to receive you and your retinue, Your Royal Highness, and you will see for yourself that we have chosen a groom for you that few could find fault with.”

  “How far is it?” So the princess was at least willing to meet the young man. Anna breathed out in relief.

  “Four days with a good team, Your Royal Highness. I will arrange everything for a departure early tomorrow morning, with your leave.”

  “Very well,” Gisela said without enthusiasm. “Does this young man speak German?”

  “Since the match has only been arranged over the last few weeks, I doubt it, Your Royal Highness. But I daresay he will have French, so that you have one language in common.” The Count tactfully did not refer to Gisela’s refusal to learn English, despite the promised English groom. “In any case, Komtesse von Rosenfels can act as your interpreter.”

  “I am very ready to do my best,” Anna said immediately. This promised to be more challenging than reading from long-winded novels. She had a premonition that the bridegroom might be no more enthusiastic about the match than the Princess. An astute interpreter might do much to prevent misunderstandings or unintentional slights. Her father was not the only one in the family with diplomatic talent.

  “Will I retain my rank after the marriage?” Gisela asked. It was a crucial point.

  “That was part of the agreement, Your Royal Highness. Though your children will only partake of the father’s rank, you will retain your status, and thus outrank your husband.”

  Gisela nodded, satisfied, while Anna wondered how her future husband felt about this provision. Her own betrothed would certainly not like his wife to outrank him. Would this English nobleman consider his wife’s title enough compensation for eight years’ age difference, and an unwillingness to learn his language?

  “I had better tell our maids, and supervise the packing, if we are to depart so soon,” she said. Princess Gisela nodded her permission, but said, “Wait. We need more information. Tell us about this man’s family, Mr. Cholmondeley.”

  “The Bretons came over with the Conqueror,” that gentleman readily began, still standing, as the Princess had not given permission to the gentlemen to sit in her presence. “They currently hold five large estates, the principal one located in the north, near the border to Scotland. Steeplesham is a medieval castle, though with modern additions, and very large indeed.”

  “That seems acceptable,” Gisela said grudgingly.

  “They also own some of the best racehorses in England, and breed them in three different studs,” Count Reinprecht added with distinct admiration.

  Cholmondeley went on, “The current duke is the eighth of his line, in his early sixties, and has four sons. Three from his first Duchess, who was a Desborough, a cousin of the current Earl, and one from his much younger second wife, the last descendant of the former Earls of Cromarthen. That title is to be revived in favour of her son.”

  “One wonders how the two middle sons feel about that,” Anna murmured.

  “They are younger sons, and thus do not matter, Ma’am. If I may – “

  “Yes, go on, - and do not interrupt again, Komtesse,” Gisela said. “So there is a current Duchess?”

  “Yes, but remember that you will outrank her even before she becomes the dowager duchess eventually.”

  That did not sound like a recipe for domestic harmony to Anna, but she held her peace. In Gisela’s place she would have asked how Lord Molyneux himself felt about the proposed match, about his interests and known predilections, but after the warning by the Princess, decided to let things run their course.

  On the other hand, one never knew - “What would happen if something were to prevent the match? Like the young man suddenly dying?” she asked the British diplomat.

  “That would be most unfortunate. With the signing of the betrothal papers, the British commitment to finding a groom for Her Royal Highness is considered complete. We could do nothing more, unless Lord Molyneux should refuse to go through with the match, in which case we would try to offer someone else – but there simply is no one more acceptable available. If Your Royal Highness found him unsuitable,” he bowed to the Princess, “then that would also be your own decision. Nobody is forcing the match on you, but we would not be obliged to offer a substitute in such a case.”

  “Neither of those eventualities is at all likely,” Count Reinprecht said with barely hidden anxiety. “I am persuaded that you will be satisfied by your groom, Your Royal Highness. In any case, within days you will have the chance to inspect him for yourself.”

  “It might have been better to wait with the public announcement until then,” Anna said drily. “Of course such a paragon as has been described to us would please even the most demanding.”

  “Well, what’s done is done,” Gisela said pragmatically. “We must make the best of it. What are you waiting for, Komtesse – we have to prepare for the trip right away.”

  “Of course.” Anna curtseyed, but stayed with the princess until the two gentlemen had left the room. Not allowing her to be alone with any man was the most important of her duties, as had been impressed upon her during the four-hour briefing at the Prince’s Palace before their departure.

  “I’ll see to it now,” she said as soon as they were alone, not at all unwilling to leave her charge. “This is where I was in the book, if you would care to continue reading on your own, Your Highness.”

  Princess Gisela refused the book with an irritated gesture. “Not now!”

  Chapter 4

  Rook was cleaning his pistols after his practice shoot. He was well prepared to challenge somebody to a duel. Unfortunately, you could not challenge your own parent.

  “Cheer up, Rook,” James Ellsworthy said, entering the tack room dressed for the outdoors. “This princess may yet turn to be a perfectly pleasant, pretty woman.”

  “Then why have I never heard of her before? Why would she still be unmarried in her mid-thirties?” Rook scowled. “I am perfectly cheerful, I’d have you know. This whole matter does not touch me. I shall do what I owe to my family, but it cannot affect my mood or happiness.”

  “You are talking nonsense. A happy marriage is the foundation of a happy life. I am speaking from experience. Since you are of age, I cannot imagine that a contract on which you were not previously consulted, and to which you did not consent yourself, can be binding upon you. You had not given your father the power to sign a betrothal contract as your proxy, I take it.”

  “No, of course not, but my hands are still tied. To refuse now, after the matter is already public, and the government is involved? How can I do that? And it would cost my youngest brother an earldom.”

  “That is not your problem, is it? Let him earn his earldom through his own efforts. Nobody should be asked to sacrifice himself for a younger brother’s elevation.”

  “Jack and Harry won’t like it much,” Rook said, considering the matter. “If it were Jack to be raised, I would do it more cheerfully. He’s next after me, and a very good fellow. I don’t even know Colin well, he’s so much younger.”

  “How old is he now?”

  “Twelve, or will be in September. Unlike the
rest of us he’s not been sent to Eton, my stepmother insisted on having him privately educated at home.”

  “As a younger son myself, I would not want to be ennobled if George had to marry someone he had never met before to achieve it,” James said. “One wonders if this revival of the title could not have been arranged with a few political donations, the usual way, rather than this strange match,”

  Rook did not answer. He had finished his task and was clutching the safely empty pistol in his hand. “Maybe the princess will not want to go through with the match when she meets me.”

  “More likely she’ll ask to move the wedding date forward. Don’t cling to false hopes, Rook. If you want to escape from this match, you have to act and the sooner the better. It would be a nasty scandal,” James said thoughtfully, “but if you find that you do not suit, a scandal is better than lifelong unhappiness.”

  “I shall not allow this woman to affect my happiness,” Rook said defiantly, but his bravado sounded hollow to his own ears. “Only yesterday I thought the choice was all mine, James. This sudden change in circumstance is a little disconcerting.”

  “Of course it is. But you still have a choice, though no longer such an easy one as it seemed before. Until the knot is actually tied, it is not too late.”

  “I cannot besmirch the family honour by disavowing my father’s given word like that, even if I feel strongly that he should have consulted me. And of course I would have refused.” Rook looked blankly down on the weapon in his hand, before putting it carefully back into the case with its twin.

  “If that is how you feel, then good luck. You can count on my support if you need it,” James said, and left to have one of his brother’s horses saddled for a ride.

  Rook made his way back into the house, where he met Miss Prentice in the hall. She looked pale and regarded him tragically out of her large eyes, shadowed today. At least one person other than himself was taking the news hard.

  “I shall never forget you, my lord,” Miss Prentice said in a low, throbbing voice. “Though a cruel fate might part us, you are still forever inscribed in my heart.”