Princes and Princesses: Favourite Royal Romances

by Barbara Cartland

  She smiled as if to take the sting out of her words and then walked away, aware as she did so that he was staring after her.

  She was certain that he felt frustrated and annoyed that he had learnt nothing from his attempted interrogation.

  Henri and Margit, having eaten in the other part of the restaurant, were waiting and they joined her as Vida walked out onto the platform.

  “Who was that man talkin’ to you?” Margit asked when they were out of earshot from anyone in the restaurant.

  “A Russian agent,” Vida replied and saw the shock in the maid’s eyes and in Henri’s.

  “How can you be sure of that?” he asked.

  “He was very inquisitive in a flirtatious sort of manner, but, of course, I told him nothing. At the same time I have the uncomfortable feeling that he is suspicious.”

  “Why should he be that?” Margit asked in a hostile tone.

  “Are Russian agents anything else? It has made me sure of one thing.”

  “What is that?”

  “It would be a mistake when we get to Sarospatak to stay, as I had intended, in a hotel.”

  “I warned you that no hotel in that part of the country would be comfortable,” Henri chipped in.

  “You are right and therefore we will take advantage of the hospitality of the Hungarians, which is, of course, traditional.”

  “You mean you will go to The Castle?”

  “Exactly. You must find out who is living there now. I am certain that they will know Mama’s family by name, even if they are not actually acquainted with my cousins.”

  “I thought that you were not going to say that your mother was a Kărólski,” Margit said.

  “I will be vaguely related to the family, which is a very large one,” Vida answered. “In fact, there are dozens if not hundreds of them scattered all over Hungary and they may as well come in useful.”

  She did not say any more, but merely walked up and down the platform until the train that was to carry them to the Eastern part of Hungary came into the station.

  It was certainly not as comfortable as the Express that had brought them from Paris, but the sleeping compartments were spotlessly clean.

  As always in Hungary, the attendant was cheerful, smiling and willing and after Margit had given him a large tip, he was most willing to provide anything required.

  Vida was aware that the Russian who had talked to her in the restaurant watched her board the train and she was quite certain that he had been inquisitive enough to read the labels on her luggage.

  She, however, pretended that she had not seen him and was thankful that when the train finally steamed out of the station he was left behind.

  The train was too old-fashioned to have a restaurant car on it and instead it stopped every two or three hours at some town where there was a restaurant on the station.

  This naturally slowed down their process considerably and they did not arrive at Sarospatak until the afternoon of the second day after leaving Budapest. The town lay on the edge of the frontier and in front of the range of the Zemplen Mountains.

  While on the train, Vida had been remembering what her mother had told her about The Castle, which was a very old one, having been built in 1207.

  Because her mother had adored her own country and was often homesick, she had taught Vida the history of Hungary from a very early age.

  She had learnt how Prince Arpad, riding at the head of seven mounted Hungarian tribes, had descended on the Carpathian Basin in search of a land ‘rich in grass and water’.

  She told her how all the land South of the Danube had been conquered by the Romans and then how, after the fall of the Roman Empire, the Slavs, Lombards, Avars and the Huns had all encroached on the land and settled there.

  She also taught Vida the many superstitions and legends that all stemmed from the heathen Gods. They had honoured fire, air and water as holy and sang hymns of praise to the earth.

  They also worshipped a God called Isten and to him they sacrificed horses, oxen and sheep and occasionally human beings.

  It was a fascinating study which Vida had continued as she grew older, because she felt it was part of her blood.

  Since her father also had been deeply interested in the Balkan peoples as a whole, they had tried together to study and to understand all the separate nationalities, each with their own beliefs, their ambitions and, of course, their ever-encroaching enemies.

  Vida was aware that her own ancestor, Rákŏczi, was one of the great romantic figures of Hungarian history. His castle and estates at Sarospatak had been confiscated when he went into exile and were afterwards leased to various Nobles of the Imperial Court.

  It was not difficult to find out from the attendant on the train who owned The Castle now.

  It belonged to the ancient family of Bărtik and Vida felt sure that they would know the other great families of Hungary who clung together united in disliking both the Austrians and the Russians.

  It was a custom in Hungary, which had been passed down from the earliest times, that any traveller could ask for hospitality and it was considered unlucky to refuse his plea however inconvenient it might be.

  When they had left the train and were travelling in a hired carriage, they saw The Castle in front of them and Vida realised that it was large enough to house a regiment of soldiers.

  Very old, it looked very Hungarian and had a charm that was hard to define in words.

  The servants who came to the door were elderly but dressed in an impressive livery.

  When Vida asked if she could see Count Bărtik, she was led through long passages and she could see through the heavily-paned windows ornamental gardens stretching down to the narrow brown Bogrog River, which flowed so slowly she was told that it was almost like a lake.

  The Count and Countess Bărtik greeted her very pleasantly and, when she explained that she was begging them to take pity on her and offer her the hospitality of their roof for the night, they agreed without even seeming surprised at the request.

  “I have heard about you,” Vida said in her soft voice, “from my relatives, the Rákŏczis.”

  The Countess gave a cry of delight.

  “You are a relative of the Rákŏczis? That is delightful! They are very old friends of my husband’s and mine, but alas, as we live so far apart, we very seldom see them these days. I suspect also the younger members of the family find us rather old and dull!”

  “I am not a very near relation,” Vida said quickly in case they should expect her to know more about them than she did, “but I am very proud of my Hungarian blood.”

  “Of course you are, my dear,” the Countess said, as if it would be impossible for anyone to feel anything different.

  Vida was given a delightful bedroom overlooking the garden and Margit said when they were alone,

  “You’ll be very comfortable here and if you’re wise you’ll stay as long as you can!”

  Vida shook her head.

  “You know I have to go into Russia and we are not on a pleasure trip, Margit!”

  The old maid sighed although she did not argue. She simply dressed Vida in one of her pretty but not spectacular gowns to dine with the Count and Countess.

  When Vida went downstairs for dinner, she wished that she could follow Margit’s advice and stay for some time to see the Eastern part of Hungary that she had always longed to visit.

  But she recognised that she was being urged by an instinct she could not deny to go and find her father as soon as possible.

  She knew in a way that she could not explain that time was getting short, the sands were running out and she must find him quickly.

  ‘It is,’ she thought desperately, ‘like looking for a needle in a haystack, as Russia is such a huge country.’

  Yet the Marquis had helped her by telling her that Prince Ivan might be able to show the way, but at the same time he might in fact hinder or even prevent her from reaching her father.

  ‘I shall have to be
very subtle about this,’ she told herself.

  When after a quiet friendly evening with the Count and Countess, she went to bed and prayed with a fervency that had something desperate about it that she would not fail in her quest.

  She had made herself so charming to her hosts that the next morning they begged her to stay longer and not travel into Russia immediately.

  She thanked them, but said it was imperative for her to reach her destination as quickly as possible.

  She had been clever enough the night before to gain a little information about Prince Ivan Pavolivski.

  “I find him a charming young man,” the Countess had said, “but my husband disapproves of all Russians and will not make an exception for the Prince.”

  “He is too rich and too powerful for my liking!” the Count said.

  “In what way is he powerful?” Vida asked.

  “He owns an enormous amount of land, is considered to be fabulously rich, and – ”

  The Count paused.

  “Do go on!”

  “I was just going to say that it often seems to me strange that he is of such account in Russia itself.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Vida enquired.

  “It’s difficult to put it into words,” the Count replied. “Pavolivski is from an old family, but there is nothing particularly unusual about their history. Yet the Prince seems to have an influence out of proportion to his breeding and his title, both in St. Petersburg and here.”

  The Countess laughed.

  “I am afraid that my husband is suspicious of everything Russian. The Prince keeps up his estates well and is, I am told, kind to his serfs, which is more than most Russians are.”

  “I thought that the serfs were set free by Alexander II,” Vida remarked.

  “Yes, ostensibly they were,” the Countess replied, “but they have to work to live, earn money to eat and sadly some landowners still treat their people disgracefully.”

  “Many things are disgraceful in Russia!” the Count said heavily. “First and foremost the Czar himself!”

  The Countess looked nervously over her shoulder.

  “Be careful, my dear.” she said. “These days even the walls have ears and you know as well as I do that the Secret Police are everywhere.”

  “We should be safe in our own country!” the Count growled.

  “So we should,” his wife agreed. “At the same time strange things happen to many of our people and we do live right on the border.”

  As she was obviously frightened at the way her husband was speaking, Vida did not press him to say any more.

  But, as she drove away early the next morning, she was thinking that it was very wrong that people should be afraid of their neighbours in their own houses and in their own country.

  Russia was undoubtedly a menace to Hungary, as it was to India.

  She had instructed Henri as soon as they had arrived at The Castle to purchase for her the very best horses available and a carriage, which would carry her over the border to the Prince’s castle, which was actually only twenty-five miles away.

  Henri had been sensible enough to consult the Count’s Head Groom and with his help managed to purchase a superb pair of horses that were exactly what Vida had wanted to own.

  The carriage was slightly old-fashioned, but at the same time well sprung and the hood could be opened or closed according to the weather.

  It had cost her a considerable sum of money, but Vida could afford it and she had no intention of skimping and saving on anything that concerned her father.

  It was, however, not easy to move swiftly once they had set out towards the mountains.

  The roadway of the pass through them was rough and rocky and it was only when they were actually in Russia and had reached comparatively level ground that they were able to make better progress.

  It was therefore, rather to Vida’s consternation, getting late in the afternoon when finally she saw in front of them, surrounded by a forest and with a great lake in front of it, the Pavolivski Castle.

  It was very much more ornate and appeared to be much more recently built or renovated than the one she had just left.

  There were towers and domes glinting in the afternoon sun and what seemed to her a thousand windows gleaming like diamonds across a wide expanse of green.

  It actually had a Fairy tale appearance and seemed almost unreal.

  However, it was so beautiful that she felt her spirits rise and her apprehension about her father, which had become more and more acute in the last twenty-four hours, seemed to lift a little.

  ‘I am sure the Prince will help me,’ she told herself reassuringly, although she could not really be certain of anything.

  The horses had been obviously tiring, although they had driven them slowly and had had several rests during the journey when they had stopped for food.

  But now as they drew nearer to The Castle they quickened their pace, as if they knew good stabling was waiting for them.

  They swept under high arches and through a huge gateway, which led into a courtyard.

  Then there was a magnificent flight of stone steps leading up to an impressive front door with pillars, urns and beautifully carved statues which as well as being very attractive were rather awe-inspiring.

  Henri climbed out to ask if His Highness the Prince would receive the Countess Vida Kărólski and there was a long pause before the servant, resplendent in claret livery ornamented with a great deal of gold braid, returned to say,

  “His Highness will receive the Countess.”

  At the last stop Vida had spent a great deal of time over her appearance.

  She had further darkened her already dark long eyelashes, used a lip salve on her lips and powdered her small straight nose.

  Wearing a hat trimmed with feathers she looked, she knew, slightly theatrical. At the same time she would have been mock-modest if she did not realise that she looked exceedingly attractive.

  Her hair was not the flaming red that was so often associated with Hungarian women, but the dark auburn that the Viennese claimed as their own, but was really of Hungarian origin.

  With it her skin was not only very white but also translucent, like a pearl, and had a quality that was seldom seen in women of any nationality.

  “We must be very careful what we do,” she had said to Margit and Henri just before they arrived.

  She knew that it was something she also must remember as she walked slowly and with dignity up the steps to the front door.

  The servant bowed to her and went ahead to lead her into what she saw at once was a superlatively furnished castle, containing treasures she had never expected to find, even in Russia.

  A quick glance at the pictures told her that they were all old Masters, but what impressed her most were the sculptured marble fireplaces, painted ceilings, tapestries on the walls, and where there were no tapestries, brocade set into wood of every description.

  They walked a long way over Persian carpets before the flunkey in front of her threw open a large door.

  Walking through it, Vida saw that she was in a room with diamond-paned windows reaching almost to the lofty ceiling and at the far end of it, against a fireplace that she knew must be a unique work of art, was standing the Prince.

  Everything she had heard about him had prepared her to find him very impressive, but, when she saw him, she realised that he was not only younger than she had imagined but also far more handsome.

  His dark hair was swept back from a square forehead and his distinguished aristocratic features might have seemed normal in any Nobleman, but his expression was different from that of any man she had met before.

  His dark eyes penetrated through her as she glanced towards him.

  He was dressed in a fastidious style and he might have been a dandy from a previous era. Equally he was overwhelmingly masculine and Vida knew instinctively that his physique was powerful.

  As she reached him, she realised that he was looki
ng at her with a faint expression of surprise.

  “I hope, Your Highness, you will forgive me for imposing upon you,” Vida said in French, “but I am invoking the old tradition of hospitality that exists in Hungary, and I hope in Russia, in asking if I may beg from you a roof over my head for tonight.”

  “My castle is, of course, at your disposal,” the Prince replied, “but I am intrigued to know why you are here and where you can be going.”

  “That is more simple than it appears,” Vida replied. “I am on my way to Odessa. I stayed last night at the Castle Sarospatak.”

  She gave him a little smile before she added,

  “Unfortunately I was somewhat late in rising and, since the road through the mountains was far more difficult than I expected, I cannot now reach the town where I had intended to stay the night, for it will be too dark to see the way.”

  “I understand perfectly,” the Prince said. “The road through the mountains is always unpredictable and falls of rock frequently make it impassable.”

  “Then you will understand that my horses are tired and indeed so am I.”

  “Then that is certainly something we must remedy, Countess,” he said.

  He rang a small gold bell that stood on one of the tables and instantly the door opened and a servant stood there.

  The Prince, speaking rapidly in his own language, gave instructions that the Countess’s horses were to be stabled and her luggage taken to a bedroom. He also ordered a bottle of champagne.

  While he was speaking, Vida walked across the room to the window and looked out.

  She was not surprised to see a garden exquisitely laid out in the formal fashion often to be seen in châteaux in France.

  There was a huge stone fountain throwing its water iridescent towards the sky and a number of marble statues.

  When the Prince had finished giving his orders, he went over to her.

  “Your castle might have stepped straight out of a Fairy story,” she said.

  “That is obviously where you belong,” he replied.

  She gave a little smile, but did not look at him and after a moment he said,