“He has done everything I could possibly want,” the Prince answered, “but I want to have my own man so that if I have to go to London or if by chance I am asked to stay with any new friends in England, I can take him with me.”
He smiled as he spoke, and Meta said rather feebly,
“I am sure you will soon make a good number of friends in this country.”
She glanced at Richard as she spoke.
She knew he was thinking that, whether they liked it or not, they would have to accept the Russian servants as the Prince requested.
*
The next morning, when they came back from riding, Meta noticed a strange man in the stables.
He was not young. In fact she thought that he must be nearing forty.
He looked very Russian, yet to her surprise he spoke quite good English.
“This is Feodor,” the Prince said, “I know that he is prepared to help us with the horses in every possible way.”
“They are very fine animals, Your Highness,” Feodor chipped in.
He bowed to Meta and she said,
“I hope you will be comfortable here and that the servants will look after you.”
He bowed again.
Then he seemed to disappear into the background as if he had no wish to talk to her.
She wondered now if this was the man who Richard had heard the Prince talking to in the shrubbery the night of their party.
But she was to be given a different explanation from Bell.
It was not until the evening that Bell spoke to her just when she was going up to dress for dinner.
Nathlia had gone ahead excitedly because Lord Brookland and one of the other young men who had come to the dance on Saturday night had invited themselves to dinner.
“Shall we be able to dance afterwards?” Nathlia asked immediately.
“You can dance if I play the piano for you,” Meta said. “So you had better tell me which are your favourite tunes.”
Nathlia had been thrilled about this and, when she was ready to go upstairs to change for dinner, she said,
“I am going to put on my prettiest frock and you must do the same.”
“I am keeping mine for a better occasion,” Meta replied.
But Nathlia was not listening.
It was then, as she left the room, that Bell came in.
“Is there anything you want?” Meta asked him. “I think Sir Richard has already put out the wine.”
“No, everything’s ready, Miss Meta,” Bell replied, “there just be somethin’ I wish to tell you about that Russian who arrived this afternoon.”
“You mean His Highness’s valet,” Meta said. “I knew that he was coming, but I was not sure how he was getting here.”
“He comes here in a Post chaise, Miss Meta, and brings quite a lot of luggage for His Highness with him.”
If he had the Prince’s luggage, Meta wondered why he had not come before, although she did not say anything.
Then she realised that Bell was hesitating and looking a little uncomfortable.
“What is it, Bell?” she asked.
“Well, it be like this. Miss Meta,” Bell said, “this Russian chap is, I’m almost certain, the same fellow as wanted to come here afore and who I tells you about.”
“The man who tried to bribe you because he was so eager to get into the house?” Meta asked.
“Yes, that be he, but he’s grown a moustache and so he looks a bit different now. But I’d swear it be he right enough if I were standin’ in a witness box.”
Meta looked at him in consternation.
“His Highness said the man he wanted here as his valet had been with him for five years. If that is true, why should he want you to employ him instead of arriving with His Highness as he could easily have done?”
Bell scratched the top of his head for a moment.
“I can’t answer that question, Miss Meta. But I be sure it’s him.”
“Well, say nothing about it, just keep an eye open. I know I can trust you to do that.”
“I’ll do me best, miss, as you knows,” Bell replied, “but them foreigners are as slippery as a pair of greased fingers and you never knows what they’re up to and that’s a fact.”
Meta thought that it was all a puzzle and becoming more complicated all the time.
As she went up to her room to change, she knew that she must tell Richard as soon as she could.
At the same time what could he do about it?
The Prince had asked for two of his own servants to accompany him.
As he was settling in very comfortably, there could be no possible reason as to why they should not be accepted into the household.
‘Yet,’ Meta thought, ‘there must be some reason for them being here and for the Prince wanting them.’
She finally went downstairs to dinner dressed in the pretty gown that she had bought in Leicester.
She found that the two men guests had arrived and were being entertained by Nathlia, who was looking exceedingly lovely in more of her mother’s jewels.
Even so her eyes seemed to shine brighter than the diamonds as she was chattering away in a mixture of French and English, which both men found entrancing.
“I am afraid that we had no time to arrange a larger party for you,” Meta said to Lord Brookland as they went in to dinner.
“I am perfectly content,” he replied, “to be with the Princess and ‒ you.”
Meta realised that she had been added as an afterthought.
Then he went on,
“She is the most exciting thing that has appeared in this part of the world for years.”
“I don’t think that your father would agree when he has the finest pack of hounds in the whole County,” Meta remarked.
Lord Brookland did not answer.
Instead he put forward a question that was obviously at the front of his mind.
“How long will the Princess be staying with you?” he asked.
“We are hoping until the spring,” Meta replied. “The Prince said he has come to England for the hunting, but, of course, it is much too early so he is spending his time building up the stables, which I am sure will make everyone around here very envious.”
“They are already talking about it,” Lord Brookland said. “And I am thinking of going to Tattersalls next week to see if I can outbid him.”
“That sounds like a very expensive form of amusement,” Meta answered, “and one that Richard and I cannot afford.”
“I am sorry about that,” Lord Brookland replied.
The way he spoke told Meta that he was not just commiserating with her for not having enough money and more horses. It was also for having strangers staying in their home.
She was quite certain that they were now the endless topic of conversation to the gossips of Leicestershire.
The only blessing was that the Prince and his sister were so charming that it would be difficult for anyone to think that their presence was a hardship.
They all laughed a great deal during dinner.
When it was finished, Nathlia led them to the ballroom.
The candles had all been lit, but it did look a rather large and empty room and Meta now wished that there had been more time to invite other people.
She sat down at the piano and Lord Brookland swept Nathlia onto the floor.
It was the other guest, Henry Thornton, who asked,
“Who am I to dance with, since you have made yourself the orchestra?”
“I never thought of that,” Meta replied. “You will have to take it in turns.”
The Prince, who had been talking to Richard, came to the piano.
“I will play,” he proposed. “You go and dance.”
“Are you quite sure you don’t mind?” Meta asked.
“I can assure you,” the Prince replied, “that I am very competent.”
Henry Thornton put his arm round Meta’s waist.
As he did so, the Prince played two
loud chords on the piano and promptly broke into a spirited dance.
It was obvious from the first note that he was an extremely experienced piano player.
As Meta moved round the room to his music, she knew that he was in fact an outstanding musician.
It was something that she had not expected and she wondered why he had not mentioned it before.
‘If he can play as well as that,’ she thought, ‘I am surprised that he has not been drawn to the piano even though there was no one to listen to him.’
Nathlia finished her dance with Lord Brookland and then she insisted on dancing with Richard.
He claimed again that he was too old and was quite happy to watch everyone else.
She merely laughed at him and pulled him onto the floor and then seemed, Meta thought, to melt into his arms.
She had always thought that Richard was a very good dancer and she realised at once as she watched Nathlia and Richard together that they were exceptional.
When the Prince stopped playing, she said to them,
“You two dance so well, I think we must have a party for you to give a performance.”
“Heaven forbid!” Richard then exclaimed. “I most certainly have no intention of making an exhibition of myself.”
“We will just dance together,” Nathlia suggested. “Richard dances far better than anyone I have ever met in my whole life.”
She looked up at him with an expression in her eyes that made Richard turn away very quickly.
He walked over to the piano to congratulate the Prince.
“I had no idea, sir,” he said, “that you are such an accomplished musician.”
“A great number of Russians are,” the Prince replied, “and I have been able to play the piano and the violin too since I was very small. As my father was a musician, he encouraged me.”
He smiled before he added,
“I suppose if I lost all my money I could always find a place in a band or on the stage.”
“I think it is far more likely to be Windsor Castle with her Majesty the Queen listening to you enchanted,” Richard laughed.
The Prince held up his hands in horror.
“If you threaten me with that,” he parried, “I will swear I am tone deaf.”
Richard laughed again,
“I have often had to listen to concerts at Windsor Castle and I can assure that you most of them are extremely dull. You would certainly cheer up the music room there.”
“That is something I have no intention of doing,” the Prince said almost sharply.
The way he spoke struck Richard as rather odd.
If he was in England as a spy, as had been suspected, he would obviously be eager to get into the Royal circle or at least to be with the people who surrounded the Queen.
He had deliberately left London, which was where he would have had a good chance of meeting Her Majesty.
But he was to all intents and purposes burying himself in the country.
‘Everything seems to be a contradiction in terms,’ Richard surmised.
Then, as the Prince started to play a waltz, Nathlia slipped her hand into his.
“I want to dance with you,” she said, “and, as I am afraid you will not ask me, I have to break all the rules and ask you myself.”
“That, of course,” Richard replied, “gives me a chance of saying ‘no’.”
“Because I am asking you in my very good English to be my partner, it would be very unkind and also rude to refuse.”
Richard laughed.
“Very well, you win.”
He put his arm around her.
As the Prince went on playing, Meta realised that he was watching his sister and Richard waltzing round the ballroom and she could not judge by the expression on his face if he was pleased or not.
She only thought that the whole thing was rather strange.
It would in fact be a mistake another time not to have more people to dinner if Nathlia wanted to dance.
If the gossips in the County heard that she and the Princess had four men to themselves, they would have a great deal to say about it.
‘And that will annoy Richard,’ Meta thought. ‘He hates to be talked about.’
She was, however, quite certain that the whole of Leicestershire would soon have a great deal to say about Princess Nathlia.
She was very beautiful and behaved in a very different way from what one expected of a Princess.
She was impulsive and always said the first thing that came into her head.
At the same time the staff all seemed to like her and the housemaids said that she was very considerate.
Mrs. Bell was thrilled because she kept popping into the kitchen to say how much she had enjoyed a certain dish or a particular cake.
‘We are very lucky to have two people who are so charming,’ Meta thought, ‘and also so talented.’
When the dance ended, she went to the piano.
“That was a lovely tune,” Meta smiled. “Is it Russian?”
“Actually,” the Prince replied, “I wrote it myself and so I am extremely flattered that you appreciate it.”
“It is beautiful,” Meta said. “You must have it published and I am sure that it would be a huge success.”
“I am quite content to enjoy it myself and for you to share my enjoyment,” he replied.
“That is being very selfish,” Meta argued. “At a time like this it should certainly be your contribution to humanity and, if we have a talent, we are not allowed, as you well know, ‘to hide it under a bushel’.”
The Prince laughed.
“Now you are lecturing me and, of course, I must listen to you. But I write, as I play, to please myself and I have no wish to be criticised or applauded by the multitude.”
“I will have a great deal of say about that,” Meta said, “but now, at the moment, I must not stop you from amusing the minority, so please go on playing.”
The Prince laughed again.
Next Meta was asked to dance by Lord Brookland.
As they moved round the room, she thought about the conversation that she had just had with the Prince.
It is, she decided, most inappropriate for a rather stupid countrified young woman who had never read a book.
‘I must be careful,’ she thought.
But she knew that it was almost impossible because she liked talking to the Prince.
She enjoyed arguing with him and was well aware that he was extremely intelligent.
They danced for nearly two hours.
Then Richard said it was time that they all went to bed and their guests must go home.
Reluctantly and so lingering over a long last drink, Lord Brookland and Henry Thornton left saying that they intended to give a party themselves in three days’ time.
They made Meta promise to bring Nathlia over for dinner.
The Prince and Richard were, of course, included in the invitation.
When the carriage containing the two young men had driven away, Richard turned to Nathlia,
“You have made two conquests. I hope you will mark them down on the list.”
“Only two?” she queried.
The way she was looking at him said quite clearly what she wanted the answer to be.
“Now you are being greedy,” Richard replied. “Two in one evening should be more than enough for most young women.”
“But not enough for me,” Nathlia retorted.
Richard spoke jokingly, but Meta just knew that Nathlia was serious.
If the Princess fell in love with Richard when he, the Prince, had been told to spy on him, it would make things even more difficult.
It could also be very unpleasant.
‘They really should go away now, before it goes too far,’ Meta thought.
She knew that they were to all intents and purposes now caught in a trap, a trap set by the Queen and the Prime Minister to ensnare the Russians.
It looked, however, as if the victims might
be very different from what was expected.
Meta then walked slowly upstairs to bed.
As she did so, she was praying that they would not find anything wrong with the Prince and Nathlia and then Richard would be able to repo tort the Prime Minister that the whole operation had been a waste of time.
She entered the passage that opened out to all their bedrooms.
She saw that the Prince’s valet was standing just inside the open door of his room and he was watching the party coming up the stairs.
There was an expression of his face that Meta thought was rather frightening and it was as if he was searching for something or someone.
To put it briefly he was clearly looking for trouble.
‘Why and what for?’ Meta asked herself.
Then, as the Prince reached the top of the staircase, the valet disappeared and there was only the empty doorway.
She went to her own room, but she could not help thinking of him.
She was certain that Bell was right.
There was something very strange about his determination to be with the Prince.
*
The following day nothing had been planned and Meta thought that they would just have a quiet time, first with the horses and then perhaps looking over the estate.
She was aware that now that Richard had some money in hand, he was eager to see the farmers.
He wanted to help them all he could to improve their land, to buy new stock and repair the farm buildings. There was most certainly a great deal to be done.
Yet, unless the Prince went with him, Richard found it difficult to leave him alone.
He was also aware, and so was Meta, that Nathlia wanted to be with Richard.
Her eyes would light up every time he came into the room.
‘She will break her heart over him,’ Meta thought despairingly.
Yet there was nothing that she could do about it and she was far too wise to mention it to Nathlia herself.
Richard had never told her very much about his love affairs.
She knew that he had no intention of marrying until he was much older and was rich enough to be able to afford it.
Once, teasingly, when he was saying this, she had remarked,
“You could, of course, marry an heiress.”
“If you think that I want to be kept by my wife, you are very much mistaken,” Richard replied. “I have seen those sorts of marriages and they always end up a failure.”
The Protection of Love Page 7