The Love Light of Apollo

by Barbara Cartland

  “I am afraid it’s the truth,” Prince Holden agreed. “My French and Italian are far better.”

  The Vicar laughed and then closed the door behind them

  Mrs. Grandell then said politely in Greek,

  “Would Your Royal Highness like to sit in the sunshine or would you find it cooler on the sofa?”

  She indicated a sofa near the fireplace and the Princess moved towards it.

  When she had sat down, she said in a low voice,

  “I have come to ask you for your help, Mrs. Grandell, and please do help me, because it is very very important for me.”

  Mrs. Grandell, who was, the Princess decided, a beautiful woman with an unmistakable dignity about her, responded in surprise,

  “Of course! I should be delighted to help Your Royal Highness, if it is at all possible.”

  As if she thought that she might be intruding, Avila began to walk towards the door.

  “No, no, please stop,” Princess Marigold urged her. “I want you to hear what I have to say because it concerns you.”

  Avila looked a little bewildered, but she sat down in a chair beside her mother’s.

  Quickly, because she felt that she might not have too much time left before the Vicar returned, Princess Marigold then told Mrs. Grandell how she had fallen in love with Prince Holden.

  She explained how on the very day that their engagement was to have been announced, they had been plunged into mourning.

  “I will be frank with you,” she said, “and explain that I am terrified, because Her Majesty the Queen wants me to marry someone very important, that she will use any excuse to try to separate us.”

  Mrs. Grandell was listening with an astonished expression in her eyes.

  “But, surely ‒ ?” she began.

  “Allow me to finish please,” the Princess interrupted. “You may have heard of Prince Eumenus of Malia, who has just died. He is to be buried in Athens and his body is being embalmed in order to give the prestigious people of Europe time to attend the Ceremony.”

  Princess Marigold had been watching Mrs. Grandell as she spoke.

  She thought that there was a flicker in her eyes which told her that she knew who Prince Eumenus was.

  “Malia is, I believe, only a small island, but Queen Victoria has decided I must represent her at the funeral of this Prince.”

  “Surely,” Mrs. Grandell said a little tentatively, “Her Majesty could find someone older than Your Royal Highness for what is inevitably a somewhat gloomy occasion?”

  “She could, but she will not,” Princess Marigold replied, “simply because she wishes to separate me from Prince Holden.”

  She clasped her hands together as she went on,

  “But I have fallen in love. I love him so much, Mrs. Grandell, as only you who are Greek can understand. If we are separated, as Her Majesty is trying to do, I think it would kill me!”

  She was speaking from her heart. Her voice seemed to vibrate across the small room.

  “I understand what you are feeling,” Mrs. Grandell said quietly, “but I don’t know how I can help you.”

  “What I am asking,” Princess Marigold said, “is if your daughter Avila will go to Athens for the funeral in my place.”

  Mrs. Grandell stared at the Princess as if she could not believe what she was hearing.

  Avila gave a little cry.

  “Are you suggesting, ma’am, that I could go to Greece?” she asked. “It is something I have always longed to do ever since I was a small child.”

  “I am asking you to impersonate me and go to Athens,” the Princess said, “and to see, despite the funeral Ceremony, as much of Greece as you can in the time available.”

  “This is the most wonderful thing that could possibly happen to me!” Avila cried.

  Mrs. Grandell seemed at last to find her voice.

  “Are you really serious, ma’am?” she enquired. “I can hardly believe what Your Royal Highness is saying.”

  “I am saying that I am desperate! I know that, if I go to Greece and leave Prince Holden, Her Majesty will somehow or other prevent our marriage from taking place or at least delay it in some tricky way of her own.”

  She drew in her breath and then went on,

  “Please, please let Avila go instead of me. We look so alike that I am quite certain no one will have the slightest idea that she is not actually me.”

  Mrs. Grandell turned to look at her daughter and then back again at the Princess.

  “There is indeed a definite ‒ resemblance,” she admitted slowly.

  “If we were not side by side, no one would doubt for a moment that Avila is me,” the Princess said quickly. “I think that we must be related in some way, as so many Greeks are.”

  To her surprise Mrs. Grandell stiffened.

  “That, ma’am,” she said, “is something I would not wish to discuss. I admit that there is a resemblance, but I am sure that my husband would not allow Avila to act a lie.”

  “Then you must not tell him,” the Princess said. “As a Greek, you understand what I am feeling as no woman of any other nationality could. I can only beg you and plead with you to help me because this concerns my whole happiness, now and for the future.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Mrs. Grandell murmured.

  She had not moved or fidgeted while the Princess was talking and now she clasped her hands together almost as if they helped her to control her feelings.

  “Oh, please, Mama, please!” Avila begged her. “Let me go to Greece! You know how thrilled I have been by the stories you have told me ever since I was a baby and the books we have read and the pictures we have found together.”

  She stopped for a moment before she went on,

  “I never thought I would be able to see the Parthenon or any of the islands that you have told me so many stories about. Please, Mama please! Let me do what Her Royal Highness asks.”

  Princess Marigold felt that the girl’s pleading was even more impressive than her own.

  Then, still speaking Greek, Mrs. Grandell asked,

  “Will you tell me, Your Royal Highness, how you think you can manage this deception without anyone being ‒ aware of it?”

  Princess Marigold felt her heart leap.

  “I will tell you what I have discussed so far with Prince Holden,” she said, “and, as he is a marvellous organiser, he will work out every detail so that there is not the slightest chance of our being discovered.”

  She saw that the Mrs. Grandell was still undecided and so she went on persuadingly,

  “You must tell your husband that Avila is coming to Greece with me, which is almost true. Tell him I am taking her with me because, having lived in. England for so long, I must practise my Greek and be certain that I don’t make any silly mistakes when I reach Athens.”

  She thought as she spoke that Mrs. Grandell thought that this sounded at least a possible idea.

  “It is quite true,” she continued, “there is nobody at Windsor Castle who I can converse with in Greek and I have in fact become rather rusty since my father and mother died. It was, of course, my father who taught me first when I was a child to speak in Greek.”

  “I am sure that Papa would think it a wonderful opportunity,” Avila persisted, “for me to go to Greece and be Your Royal Highness for a while.”

  “You will travel by ship,” Princess Marigold said, “and I will choose a Lady-in-Waiting to accompany you who is getting old and also rather blind.”

  She stopped speaking for a moment and then resumed,

  “She will, I expect, be the only other English person in the party with the exception of the Under Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, whom I have never met.”

  She gave a little laugh as she added,

  “I am sure that they will expect me to remain in my cabin and feel sea-sick all through the Bay of Biscay and, when the ship reaches Athens, neither our Ambassador there nor any of his staff have ever met me.”

  Princess
Marigold coughed and then carried on,

  “This is all a plot of Queen Victoria’s to try to separate us. I am certain that she is at this very moment working out in her mind how I will forget him and he will forget me. But that is something that will never ever happen!”

  Now the anxious note was back in her voice.

  There was something very pathetic in her eyes as she added,

  “Please, please help me! There is no one else who I can turn to and only someone who is Greek can understand what I feel.”

  Avila looked at her mother.

  Then, as Mrs. Grandell did not speak, she put a hand over hers.

  “Please, Mama, please,” she begged. “We would be very careful not to upset Papa and I promise I will do everything Her Royal Highness tells me to do.”

  “You just have to smile, keep saying ‘thank you’, and wave to the crowds,” the Princess said. “I can assure you, being a Royal person requires no brains, not unless you are in a spot like me and have to try to save yourself.”

  Mrs. Grandell now realised that both the Princess and her daughter were looking at her pleadingly.

  In a strange tone that did not sound like her usual voice, she said,

  “As I would like Avila to see Greece and because I am aware of the strange resemblance there is between her and Your Royal Highness, I will agree. But the only condition is that this is kept completely secret and my husband is not made aware of what is happening.”

  “I can assure you that from my point of view,” Princess Marigold answered, “no one will know except for us three and, of course, Prince Holden.”

  She smiled and then went on,

  “I will rely on him to work out every single move and every tiny detail so that we are not discovered.”

  Mrs. Grandell did not speak and the Princess added as an afterthought,

  “Avila and I are almost the same size and all that she will require is that dismal boring black of which I have dozens and dozens of gowns! Besides, of course, the correct bonnet with a dark veil which will prevent anyone from looking too closely at her until she is aboard the Battleship.”

  “And I can keep my head bent,” Avila suggested, “as if it is such a moving occasion that I must not look too happy about it.”

  The Princess smiled.

  “Exactly. I am sure that you will act the part very well and be much more charming and good-tempered than I would be.”

  She gave a little laugh and went on,

  “And I would be hating every minute of the voyage, the funeral and the people who are preventing me from being with Prince Holden.”

  “While I will love every minute of it,” Avila said in a rapt voice. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Your Royal Highness, for thinking of me.”

  “You should really thank Prince Holden, who happened to see you in Church,” Princess Marigold said. “But be very careful what you say to him if he is with your father.”

  “So you are not to say anything at all,” Mrs. Grandell came in. “The sole reason, Your Royal Highness, that I am allowing Avila to go on what seems to me a rather dangerous and certainly unusual journey is that she has always longed to see Greece.”

  She smiled and then added reflectively,

  “It was my country and I have wanted her to see it too. There is nowhere in the world that can compare with that sublime country.”

  “That is what my father always said,” Princess Marigold agreed, “and it broke his heart when the revolutionaries took away his Throne.”

  “I suppose they were incited to rebel by the Russians,” Mrs. Grandell said. “They have caused trouble in so many of the Balkan States. I have heard recently that they have also been busy in Greece.”

  Princess Marigold had heard Queen Victoria’s views on Russia’s recent behaviour, but she felt it unnecessary to become involved in that discussion at the moment.

  Instead she said,

  “I know that Avila will love Greece and I expect you have told her many stories about it that she will feel as if she is going home rather than to a foreign country.”

  For the first time since they had started their conversation, Mrs. Grandell smiled at the Princess.

  “You understand,” she replied softly.

  “As Greeks,” the Princess said, “we both know it is important for Avila to see Greece and how better than being taken to everything that she asks to see because they believe she is me?”

  “That is exactly what I was thinking,” Mrs. Grandell nodded. “Yet I can only pray, Your Royal Highness, that our little plot will not be discovered. Because if it is, there will be a great number of people very angry with us.”

  “No one is more aware of that than I am,” the Princess agreed. “I assure you, I shall be extremely careful and will not be happy until the Battleship moves out of Port carrying Avila instead of me!”

  Avila clasped her hands together.

  “Oh, thank you, thank you, ma’am!” she cried. “How can I ever tell you how grateful I am for this wonderful opportunity?”

  She looked so pretty as she spoke that the Princess could not help saying,

  “How is it possible that we look so alike? Surely, Mrs. Grandell, you must be aware of some explanation for it?”

  To her surprise Mrs. Grandell then rose to her feet.

  “I think, Your Royal Highness, it would be a mistake to speak of anything except for the task that lies ahead. I have so much to teach Avila before she leaves and a lot to tell her about Athens which is the one part of Greece she will certainly see.”

  “You must see everything else you can,” the Princess turned to Avila. “In a way I envy you. At the same time, even for the great splendour of Greece, I cannot risk losing my future happiness.”

  She rose from the sofa as she spoke and put out her hand towards Mrs. Grandell.

  “Thank you for being so understanding. I knew as soon as Prince Holden said you were Greek not only that we shared the same language but also that we can understand each other without words.”

  It was a pretty speech, said with all the charm that Princess Marigold could use when she chose to do so and when she wanted something special and would not be denied it.

  “Your Royal Highness is very kind,” Mrs. Grandell said. “Avila and I will wait for your instructions and then carry them out to the letter.”

  “Thank you again,” Princess Marigold smiled, “and now I must return to Windsor Castle to work out with Prince Holden every detail of what we have to do now.”

  “And when do you expect to leave?” Mrs. Grandell asked.

  “On Thursday,” Princess Marigold replied. “It will be from the Port of Tilbury and, of course, Prince Holden will send a carriage for you. I have not yet been told the name of the Battleship that I am supposed to be travelling in.”

  She saw the expression of delight in Avila’s eyes as she spoke and said,

  “That is something you will enjoy and naturally the Captain and the crew will be very proud to have been chosen to carry the Representative of Great Britain to Greece.”

  “I think I ‒ must be ‒ dreaming!” Avila stammered. “This cannot really be ‒ happening to me!”

  “It is,” Princess Marigold assured her, “and when you listen to all the long and dreary speeches which those who welcome you will make, you will find it very difficult not to yawn or go to sleep!”

  Avila laughed and it was a very pretty sound.

  “I am sure, ma’am, you are always clever enough to look as if you are enjoying it all, however dull it may be.”

  “That is what I tell myself I should do,” the Princess said, “but I warn you, old men can talk and talk for hours.”

  Both Mrs. Grandell and Avila were laughing at this when the door opened.

  “May we come in?” the Vicar asked, “or are you still dreaming that you are living on Mount Olympus?”

  “Of course that is where we are,” Princess Marigold replied. “For who could doubt that your daughter and I are Goddess
es?”

  As she spoke, she saw the expression in Prince Holden’s eyes and realised that was how she appeared to him.

  She felt a surge of love sweep over her.

  ‘Even if Queen Victoria discovers our plot and punishes me,’ she told herself, ‘it will be worth the risk if I can be with him!’

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Traveller’s Rest at Tilbury was a hotel where the guests never stayed for very long.

  People arriving by sea might stay there temporarily and travellers leaving in ships used it until they knew that they could go aboard.

  No one took any notice of a lady who had engaged a room for herself and her daughter on Wednesday night.

  She was noted in the Register as ‘Mrs. Johnson’.

  As soon as she and her daughter arrived, they went straight upstairs to their bedroom on the first floor and stayed there all night.

  The following morning there was a rumble of excitement amongst those working in the hotel.

  They knew that a party was arriving from Windsor Castle and they would require coffee in the Private Lounge.

  At a quarter after ten the first smart carriage arrived and drove up the dusty road to the hotel.

  In it was Princess Marigold and sitting beside her was Prince Holden. And opposite them were Lady Bedstone and Colonel Bassett.

  “I absolutely refuse to go aboard and do all that hand-shaking until I have had a cup of coffee,” Princess Marigold had insisted on the way.

  “I thought that was what you would want,” Prince Holden replied, “and I have already engaged a private room for you.”

  “The only other passengers, ma’am,” Colonel Bassett then informed her, “will be Lord Cardiff, the Minister of State for Foreign Affairs, whom I don’t think you have met and the Greek Ambassador, who I believe is a very charming gentleman.”

  “In which case,” Princess Marigold pointed out strongly, “I wonder why I have not been allowed to meet him before.”

  There was no answer to that question and they drove on in silence until they reached The Traveller’s Rest.

  Prince Holden climbed out of the carriage and then helped the Princess to alight.