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

by May Burnett

  “Please, Miss Prentice, erase my name from your heart and forget me,” he cajoled, appalled at the girl’s confession. “Fate, as you have just said, is clearly intent on preventing any closer connection. I am certain that you will soon meet another gentleman who is destined to be your spouse, and wish you all possible happiness when you do.”

  “But you – will you be happy with such an old woman as your bride?”

  This was presumption and impertinence he could not allow to pass. “I beg your pardon, Miss Prentice, but please let me be the judge of my own happiness.”

  “I will pity you,” she said, batting her dark lashes, and made a dramatic exit. He looked after her, nonplussed. This chit of eighteen pitied him? From one day to the next he had become so pathetic?

  Rook went on, grinding his teeth, only to run into Lady Tembley and her daughter, Lady Chloe. “You poor man,” the older lady said, while Chloe smirked slightly. “To be engaged without your knowledge! What a thing to happen to one of your rank and popularity.”

  The story would clearly be out within days, and dissected all over society. If only his father had left even a single day between his letter, and the notice in the papers, he would not look like a prize fool now.

  “I must suppose my father had good reasons,” he said stiffly. “Will you please excuse me, milady?”

  At least he had not broken Lady Chloe’s heart, judging by her expression. It put him in mind of the German word Schadenfreude, a malicious delight in others’ misfortune. He could soon be fluent in German, if he put his mind to it; he already understood it well, except for the more extreme local dialects, but he had almost no practice actually speaking the language.

  Eager to escape the commiseration and comments of the adults in the house, he climbed the stairs towards the nursery. To his own surprise he had found he liked the little tykes. Surely the children had not yet heard about his situation.

  For a while he played blind man’s bluff with the three five-year-olds, George and Marianne’s Verena, and James Ellsworthy’s twins, Roger and Violet. The other three denizens of the nursery were still babies, but Verena insisted on showing them to him; they were squirming around on a large mattress, surprisingly active for such tiny children. A group of anxious nannies watched the infants, but while they looked at him with interest, at least these servants would not presume to talk to him about his engagement.

  He had underestimated the children, however. “Is it true you are going to marry a Princess?” Verena asked him at the conclusion of the game. “Does that make you a Prince?”

  “No, it does not work like that,” he explained. “If a prince marries a girl she becomes a princess, but a princess marrying a Marquess does not make him a prince.”

  “You look like a prince,” she consoled him.

  Roger snorted, and shook his head at his cousin.

  Rook had to smile. “If you knew as many real-life princes as I have seen, you would not consider that a great compliment.”

  “You mean they don’t look handsome?”

  Was he destroying the little girl’s illusions? But it was better if she did not harbour unrealistic ideas. It would only lead to disappointment sooner or later. “Well, some do,” he conceded, “while they are young. But even princes get old and fat eventually.”

  Violet had been listening with a frown. “Aren’t princesses beautiful, as in the fairy tales?”

  “Some may be,” he said carefully. “But on the whole they are no better looking than other people, though of course they can afford to dress very well. Because of their rank, they are frequently told they are beautiful, even if it is not completely true. Most princesses I have met, about a dozen, were not nearly as pretty as you.”

  “And the one you are going to marry? Is she pretty?” Violet persevered. “Is she nice?”

  “I don’t know yet,” he had to admit, “but she is coming here in a few days, then we shall see.”

  “What is her name?” Roger asked.

  “Princess Gisela.”

  “It sounds pretty,” Verena said. “Is she going to bring us presents?”

  “You already have everything, Verena,” Rook said, raising his brows. “Why would anyone bring you more presents? And I doubt that the Princess knows about you, so she will not think to bring any.”

  “You brought me my doll Rena,” she reminded him, “It is true I have many nice things and toys, but another present is always welcome.”

  “Yes,” Violet agreed. “One can never have too many.” Roger nodded emphatically.

  “You are greedy little creatures,” Rook told them severely, and was answered with naughty giggles.

  ***

  Lunchtime came and despite everything, Rook was hungry. As he ate, he found it hard to concentrate on the chatter of the younger members of the house party. Lady Ariadne and Lady Chloe were both paying more attention to Anthony than before, but Miss Prentice still showed Lord Pell the cold shoulder, her smouldering gaze unwaveringly fixed on his own face. Hopefully she would soon redirect her attention to some other man, who welcomed it more than he had done.

  Lord Pell did not seem noticeably gratified with the attentions of the two young ladies vying for his favour. Possibly he remembered them clustering round Rook in just that fashion, until the fatal message of the betrothal had arrived.

  Lady Minerva, only two years older than the three debutantes, was an island of steadiness and good sense in comparison. She engaged Rook in cheerful talk about his horses and the year’s races, and did not allude with a single word to the cloud hanging over him. Her husband, who had found the cursed newspaper notice, was equally tactful. Maybe Rook should consult the fellow in his professional capacity on the legality of his engagement. Henry Beecham was said to be an excellent solicitor before he had gone into politics. But Rook already knew what he would be told: though he was not legally tied, he could not repudiate the betrothal without causing irreparable harm to his family’s reputation, and possibly an international incident.

  Once betrothed, no matter how, a man was tied. But ladies had a slightly greater leeway. Could the Princess be made to reject him? How could he cause her to do so? It would still be humiliating, but unlike marriage, humiliation was transitory.

  “You look thoughtful,” Lady Minerva observed with a slight smile. “Are you scheming something wicked?”

  “What else? Wickedness is bred in my bones. But I am always open to additional suggestions.”

  “My spies tell me that only an hour ago, you were playing with the children in the nursery,” she said, “that does not sound very wicked at all.”

  “Your son is still too small for play, but Verena showed him to me. He looks like a stout and healthy babe, not that I know too much about infants.”

  “He is the most wonderful baby in the world, but then all new mothers probably feel like that.” Minerva smiled mistily.

  If he were not such a fool, this lovely woman and the stout babe in the nursery could be his own.

  Would this Princess, at her age, even be able to bear his children? Rook did not want to make children with a woman he had never met. How did she feel about it? He could take a good guess; these princely families did not look on such matters as other classes did. The women did what had to be done, no matter how distasteful. The men could be more capricious, such as the current King’s attitude towards his hated wife, Princess Caroline. She was another German princess who had brought nothing but unhappiness to her English husband. The Prince of Wales, as he was then, had disliked her from the first instant.

  Surely he would not encounter a similar fate? Any humiliation would be an acceptable price, if he might avoid that.

  Chapter 5

  The journey northwards was a penance for Anna, that she bore with what patience she could muster. If anything was likely to make her marriage look an attractive alternative, then it had to be sitting in a coach with Princess Gisela for several days. The Princess kept asking her to read, only to inter
rupt after a few minutes, or ask questions that showed she had not paid any attention. Anna suggested they use the time for Gisela to learn a number of English words and phrases, since she would spend her future in this country. After less than an hour, Gisela pronounced the English language uncouth and barbaric. Surely her future husband would be fluent in French, so much more elegant. The experiment was not repeated.

  “Tell me about England, and English society,” the Princess ordered on the morning of the third day. “How does it differ from our own?”

  “The power is held by parliament, and the House of Commons is at least as powerful as the House of Lords,” Anna said. “At least in theory. In fact, as in every other country, the real power is held by a small number of rich, powerful people. The monarchy has lost much influence under the current king, who was greatly reviled during his long regency, for his lifestyle, his attempted divorce, and his debts.”

  “I should be presented to him,” the Princess said thoughtfully. “Even if he is not an absolute ruler, he must still be important.”

  “Yes, of course. Your future family will take care of that. The King is not in the best of health, and his only daughter Charlotte died in childbirth some years ago – you do know that?”

  “Yes,” Gisela said, “several marriages were arranged for his brothers afterwards, and my father was extremely incensed that I was passed over.”

  “The Royal Dukes might have been of higher rank than your intended, Lord Molyneux, but even then all of them were quite old and not particularly attractive. And also rather dissolute, I understand.”

  This attempt to reconcile the Princess with her own young and handsome betrothed did not find its mark. Gisela only shrugged. “In a royal marriage, looks and age are of secondary importance.”

  “The likely heiress to the throne, after the royal dukes, is the Princess Alexandrina Victoria, daughter of the late Duke of Kent,” Anna said. “She is only four years old. Of course she might yet be superseded.”

  “I have met her mother,” Gisela said shortly. “To think that she –,” she broke off in mid-speech, no doubt because whatever she had been about to say would have been critical of a fellow royal.

  “The Duchess of Kent is not well-liked by the current King, and the rest of the family,” Anna continued. “But her daughter’s claim is indisputable.”

  “What about the ducal families?”

  “I believe their number is not much above twenty altogether. And of those, very few men are of marriageable age. There are some Marquises, and a larger number of Earls, the most frequent title of the English higher nobility. What we would call a Graf. The family we are going to stay with, the Amberleys, hold precisely that title, you will be received by the Earl and his Countess. I believe they are close to you in age.”

  “Mere aristocrats,” Gisela sniffed.

  “Like me,” Anna said cheerfully. “Not everyone can be born of a princely House, Your Royal Highness. That would devalue their importance.”

  “Don’t be impertinent. I wonder that you were chosen to be my Dame de Compagnie, I would have preferred Countess Lenticka.”

  “But that lady does not speak any English,” Anna pointed out. “I was chosen, against my own wishes, if I may be so bold as to mention it, because I happen to be familiar with the country and language. I am sorry if my company is not to your taste, Your Royal Highness.”

  “I am sure you are doing your best,” Gisela said in a more conciliatory voice. “In case this young man does not speak French, you will be needed. Do not ever leave me alone with him, even for a minute.”

  “Of course not,” Anna assured her. Was Gisela having misgivings? It would not be surprising. “I am sure, however, that he will behave himself in your presence, in a way becoming to your and his rank.”

  The Princess did not reply. Anna would guard her as best she could, though she did not suppose that Gisela’s honey brown hair, small pug nose and china blue eyes were going to tempt the young man into impropriety. Princess Gisela was not unattractive, though her severely pinned-back hair did little for her round face. But she showed at least thirty-three of her thirty-five years, and looked more like a matron than a bride. Anna suspected that much of the Princess’s animosity was due to her own age of twenty-two. It really was irresponsible that the Princess had been sent to England without an older, married chaperone. For one reason or another, none of the likely candidates at the Obernberg court had been available. Or willing? Once the decision had been made to marry Gisela to an English duke, she was no longer important for Obernberg politics. The Salic law excluded her descendants from inheriting in any case, even if she married a man of equal rank.

  “I understand that ladies are expected to perform music at this kind of house party,” Anna said. “If asked, I can sing and accompany myself on the pianoforte. What if anyone should ask you to perform, Your Highness?”

  Gisela blinked. “Perform in front of a bunch of commoners? They would not dare!”

  “I will tell them that you do not wish it. Since our hosts likely are not used to entertain Princesses, they may have little notion of the proper protocol. If anyone should offend you, please remember that it is through ignorance, not malice.”

  “You will simply have to make sure that does not happen, Komtesse.”

  ****

  Minerva set out from Amberley in her brother’s barouche, to visit her former governess some miles westward in a picturesque cottage with a view of Lake Windermere. She had invited all the young ladies to accompany her, but only Miss Prentice had taken her up on the offer.

  For the first few minutes they chatted about the landscape and the local climate. Having grown up at Amberley, Minerva knew every hill and field they passed. Miss Prentice – Louisa, as she begged Minerva to call her – hailed from Northumberland.

  “I have heard,” Louisa said presently, “that before your marriage, Lord Molyneux was courting you? But I suppose it is all a hum, as are so many rumours in society.”

  Minerva smiled. It had not escaped her attention how eagerly Louisa’s eyes followed Rook whenever he was in the room. “It is true enough, but in the end we mutually decided we would not suit. At the time I expected him to find another young lady on which to fix his attention. I was surprised to learn that his father had betrothed him to a Princess he had never met.”

  “It is unconscionable,” Louisa said vehemently. “A woman that old!”

  “She may be an excellent wife for all that. Without knowing her, we should withhold judgement. And it is not our affair, in any case.” Minerva added the last few words as a warning, since it was obvious Miss Prentice fancied it was very much her business.

  “No, of course not,” Louisa said, blushing becomingly, “but it must be a matter of concern to all friends and well-wishers of the Marquess, surely?”

  “Yes,” Minerva conceded, “and you may believe that I am as curious as anyone else at Amberley, to make the acquaintance of this German Princess. Yet even if we should conclude that the match will be unhappy, only the principals themselves can do anything about it.”

  “But a gentleman is bound by a betrothal, isn’t he?”

  “If he does not protest it immediately, as his consent was not sought, then he’ll have no recourse later on. To do so would bring disgrace on his father and family, so I doubt very much that he would care to do that.”

  “How could any father treat his son like that?” Miss Prentice went on, her voice throbbing with anger.

  “I have met the Duke,” Minerva said, “he impressed me as a man who puts family pride and ambition above all other considerations. A Princess and whatever else he has obtained, will serve to elevate the family further. People who are alien to the finer feelings and sensibilities themselves, have no notion how they may be trampling over those of others.” Privately she had her doubts whether Rook possessed particularly fine sensibilities either. She recalled describing him as an insensitive oaf in her diary two years ago, during their cour
tship. Or was it callous brute? She had thought to see some improvement in him, when he had helped her overcome some foolish gossip, but at bottom he was still the same: a splendid male creature, strong and proud, who would need a very able and sure hand and strong nerves, to manage properly.

  “It is a terrible tragedy,” Louisa maintained.

  Minerva shook her head. “Remember how many girls are forced into marriage with older men every day, and nobody calls it a tragedy. As long as the Princess is amiable, Rook – I mean, Lord Molyneux - will make the best of it, as would any person of common sense. But let us not dwell on such melancholy subjects. When we make the next turn, we will come upon a particularly fine view of the lake. Do you draw or paint, Louisa?”

  “I dabble in watercolours, but I doubt I could do justice to this perspective.”

  Minerva had the coachman halt the barouche for a few minutes, as they enjoyed the view, and discussed what colours would have to be mixed to render the water of the lake, and the reflected clouds and sky.

  “The lake has a magical attraction,” Louisa said dreamily, her eyes fixed on the water. “I feel its waves calling to me.”

  “It is much too cold to swim, I fear,” Minerva said. “And few ladies know how to do so – where have you learned?”

  “Of course I cannot swim,” Louisa said. “But I would like to be a mermaid.”

  Was the girl always so fanciful? Minerva did her best to enter into the spirit of her suggestion. “If I had to be a mermaid, I would prefer to sport in the sea, with its endless width and shoreline, rather than a mere lake.”

  “Yes, then one could swim far, far away, and leave all unhappiness behind.”

  Minerva threw her an alarmed glance. But the girl was only eighteen, and just now, sounded childish for that age. Such youthful follies that would soon pass with marriage and motherhood. Those large brown eyes seemed moist with sadness, but it might just be irritation from the slight wind.