The Protection of Love

by Barbara Cartland

Meta was wondering what she should say next.

  Then, as obviously Nathlia was waiting for her comment, she answered,

  “Richard has attended so many grand balls in London and at Windsor Castle that I am surprised he finds our rather childish romps so amusing.”

  There was silence and then Nathlia said,

  “If he wanted to go to that sort of ball, why then is he not in London?”

  “I can answer that quite easily,” Meta said. “He could not afford it. So it is only because your brother is kind enough to pay us such a large rent that we can entertain at all and do a great many things that want doing on the estate.”

  “Yes, I know that,” Nathlia said quickly. “But I thought Richard seemed very happy until the last two parties when I had almost to force him to dance with me.”

  Because she sounded so unhappy, Meta sympathised,

  “I expect he is just being tactful because he thinks you would rather be with young men who are nearer your age.”

  Even as she spoke she knew the truth.

  Richard was clearly frightened of falling in love with someone who loved him and whom he loved in return.

  ‘It is all too complicated,’ Meta thought desperately. ‘What can I do about it?’

  She wanted to discuss it with her brother, but what was the use?

  If he admitted that he was falling in love with Nathlia and Meta said that she was in love with the Prince, what was the answer?

  Also, Meta thought, if they went to the Prime Minister and said they refused to continue spying on the Prince, someone would be put in their place.

  Then there would be no chance of saving him as she was certain that Richard would want to do.

  Everything she thought of seemed to make things worse than they were already.

  She therefore tried desperately, as they drove on, to talk of other things.

  Madame Rosa was delighted to see them and even more so when the Princess insisted on buying two very expensive gowns.

  They were a perfect frame for her dark hair, her white skin and her blue eyes.

  As she tried them on, she kept asking Meta if she approved of them.

  But Meta knew that she was only hoping that Richard would admire them and she was not really interested in what anyone else would say.

  On the Princess’s suggestion they bought presents for both the men.

  They then went to a stationery shop where there were also books for sale.

  After a great deal of fingering almost everything in the shop, Nathlia found to her delight an ancient print of The Manor.

  “I know Richard would like this,” she said.

  “Of course he would,” Meta agreed.

  It was rather expensive, but she said nothing and then she found a tiny ornament for the Prince.

  It was a little piano in china with a score open in front of the keys and there was a small cat sitting on top of the piano apparently listening to the music.

  ‘Perhaps he will think that is me,’ Meta told herself.

  She insisted on paying for the present, although Nathlia would have done so and given it with hers to the Prince.

  “You pay for Richard’s,” Meta said, “and I will pay for the one for your brother. I can afford it, I really can.”

  “You are quite sure?” Nathlia said. “Alexis told me I was to pay for everything I wanted and on no account to let you or Richard do so.”

  “It is very kind of him,” Meta said. “But you are giving Richard an expensive present and I can well afford this one for your brother.”

  “Very well,” Nathlia said, “but remember we are very rich and the least we can do is to share some of it with our friends.”

  Because of what she said, Meta could not resist asking a question that she had wanted to ask for a long time.

  “Why are you so rich?” she asked.

  There was a moment’s pause before Nathlia replied,

  “My father, after he had married my mother who, as you know, was English, was very perturbed about the behaviour of the Czar. He therefore removed a great deal of his money from Russia to other countries and it was indeed very wise of him.”

  Meta was listening intently.

  Then, as if she thought that she had said enough, Nathlia suggested,

  “Don’t let us talk about Russia. It bores me. I am living in England now and I think I am becoming more and more English every day I am here.”

  Meta laughed at this, but she was sure that was what Nathlia wanted, although it seemed rather odd.

  They drove back to find that the men had not yet returned.

  They therefore had very little to do until it was time to dress for dinner.

  Tonight they were dining at home for a distinct change.

  Tomorrow they were the guests of the Lord Lieutenant, who had invited them to dinner.

  Meta was sure it was because he was curious about the Prince and Princess having heard so much about them.

  Anyway she was sure that it would be an impressive evening, if not so amusing as some of the less important invitations.

  When the two girls came down to the drawing room dressed for dinner, the men were already changed and waiting for them.

  They gave them the presents that they had bought in Leicester.

  One of the housemaids had packed them up in plenty of tissue paper and tied them with a satin ribbon.

  As the Prince took his from Meta, he turned to Richard,

  “Now, why did we not think of presents?”

  “It would have been rather difficult,” Richard replied, “unless we had brought back a baby pig, a lamb or a couple of chickens!”

  Meta laughed.

  “That would have been a most original gift.”

  “As this is,” said the Prince, who had opened his present to find the small china piano.

  He looked down at it and then he said quietly,

  “Thank you, Meta, it is something I shall always cherish.”

  “Just as I shall always remember,” she replied quietly, “the music you played to me.”

  He looked up at her and their eyes met.

  For a moment it was impossible to move.

  Meta felt as if her heart turned over in her breast.

  Then, almost as if he forced himself to do so, the Prince moved away.

  He put the little china piano down on one of the tables and Richard was very obviously delighted with his etching of The Manor.

  “I have not seen this before,” he said. “As you can see, it is very old and it was clever of you to find it.”

  “I am glad you are pleased,” Nathlia said. “It seems as if I was guided into discovering something that belonged to you.”

  “Perhaps it did once and now it has come home,” Richard speculated.

  “I hope it will make you think of me,” Nathlia sighed.

  “I shall do that every time I look at it,” Richard answered.

  Bell next announced that dinner was served.

  When they went into the dining room, the Prince then made a huge effort to amuse them and he told them stories of when he was a boy and how when he was older he had visited a great number of places in Russia including Siberia.

  Meta noticed that he never mentioned the present Czar nor did he seem in any way to speak as if he was missing the country he belonged to.

  The question of why he had decided to leave Russia trembled on Meta’s tongue.

  She knew, however, that it would be very indiscreet of her to ask him directly.

  Besides, as far as they knew, he might well be intending to return to Russia as soon as the Hunting Season was over.

  Yet, from things that Nathlia had said indirectly without thinking, Meta was sure that they had left Russia for good.

  If that was true, then the Prime Minister was wrong in thinking that they had come to spy on England.

  ‘It is all far too muddling,’ she thought. ‘I think one thing one moment and another the next.’

  The
re still seemed to be much to laugh about when they went into the drawing room.

  “How are we going to amuse two beautiful young ladies?” the Prince asked Richard.

  He was just about to reply, when Bell came into the room.

  He went up to the Prince and said,

  “Excuse me, Your Highness, there’s a man arrived from London who says he must speak to you immediate and it’s of the utmost importance.”

  “A man!” the Prince exclaimed.

  “Perhaps I should have said a ‘gentleman, Your Highness,” Bell replied. “But I finds it difficult when the speaker ain’t English to know exactly where he belongs.”

  “What is the nationality of the man who wishes to see me?” the Prince enquired.

  “I thinks he might be a Russian, Your Highness, but then I never knows the difference between them foreigners.”

  “Show him into the study, Bell,” Richard said before the Prince could say anything more.

  “Very good, Sir Richard,” Bell replied.

  He left the room and Nathlia went to her brother’s side.

  “Who is it?” she asked. “And what does he want?”

  She sounded frightened and the Prince said,

  “It is all right, I think I know who it is and it is no one to upset you.”

  “You are quite sure?” she asked.

  “Almost,” the Prince answered, “but I will now go and find out for certain.”

  To Meta’s surprise, he walked first to a table that was in the corner of the room.

  There were the remains of a bottle of champagne that they had drunk before dinner.

  Without asking permission or excusing himself in any way, the Prince poured out a glass of champagne.

  He drank it down in one gulp in the same way that the Russians drink vodka.

  Without saying anything, he then walked across the room.

  Richard glanced at Meta and she knew at once what he wanted her to do.

  It would be impossible, without it seeming very strange, for him to follow the Prince.

  But if he stayed with Nathlia, there was no reason why Meta should not go upstairs to fetch something she wanted or, for that matter, to leave them tactfully alone.

  Richard had, before the Prince and Princess arrived, said to Meta,

  “The Prime Minister has asked us to watch these people and to report anything they do that seems strange or out of the ordinary.”

  “They are not likely to do anything ‘strange’ right here in the Manor,” Meta replied. “But I expect what the Prime Minister really wants is for you to tell him just what they are saying either to other people or to each other.”

  “That would be difficult,” Richard said, “as The Manor does not have secret passages as most old houses do. And if these Russians are spying on the Queen or anyone else, they are not likely to tell us so.”

  “No, but they will tell their friends, if they have any,” Meta suggested.

  “Then it is something that they will not do in public,” Richard answered.

  He suddenly gave an exclamation.

  “There is just one chance of overhearing something we are not supposed to,” he said.

  “What is that?” Meta asked.

  “You know the study has a communicating door into the anteroom.”

  “The room we never use,” Meta said quickly, “because the paper is peeling off the wall and we cannot afford to have it redecorated.”

  “Exactly,” Richard agreed. “That is why no one is likely to go inside it.”

  Meta looked at him in a puzzled way.

  “What are you proposing?”

  “I am saying only and, of course, it is an outside chance,” Richard answered, “that if two people were talking in the study, one could listen to them from the anteroom without their being aware of it.”

  “Of course we could,” Meta agreed, “I had not thought of that. Before they arrive I will put a little oil on the hinges of the door so that it will not make a noise if we pull it open.”

  “You must be very very careful,” Richard said, “not to let them know that you can speak Russian. It is because the Prime Minister knows what a good linguist I am that he gave me this commission, if that is what you might call it.”

  “I call it very dangerous and something I wish we were not doing,” Meta asserted firmly.

  Her brother made an expressive gesture with his hands.

  “How could I refuse,” he enquired, “when it was a direct command from Her Majesty?”

  “Of course you had to do what you were asked,” Meta said, “At the same time I think it is rather degrading being asked to be a spy. It is very unpleasant as it is a servant’s job to be listening at keyholes.”

  Richard had laughed.

  At the same time he had put his arm around her and said,

  “You keep out of this as much as you can. I will do all the dirty work and let’s hope the whole thing is just pie-in-the-sky and we will discover nothing.”

  Now Meta knew that she had to do the dirty work for Richard’s sake.

  Equally she was feeling frightened.

  “I am going upstairs to fetch a handkerchief that I forgot,” she said.

  As she walked to the door, she realised that Nathlia had turned eagerly towards Richard and she was not interested in what Meta was doing.

  Outside in the passage Meta closed the door and then moved swiftly along the corridor.

  She passed the study and entered the anteroom next door to it.

  If was in darkness because the curtains were pulled.

  But Meta knew her way blindfolded across the room to where the communicating door was on the other side of the fireplace.

  She had actually forgotten to oil the hinges as she had said that she would do.

  She was very careful not to make a sound as she pulled the door open just an inch.

  Immediately she could hear voices inside even though the two men were speaking very quietly in Russian.

  In fact it was hardly above a whisper.

  The first words she heard the Prince say were,

  “What are we going to do about it?”

  “He will have to be eliminated, Your Highness,” his visitor replied, “and as quickly as possible.”

  “It will be dangerous,” the Prince reflected.

  “I know that,” his visitor answered, “but it has to be done.”

  “Then what I suggest – ” the Prince said.

  Now his voice dropped even lower and Meta could not hear any more.

  She put her ear right against the crack of the door.

  But his voice was very deep and he was still whispering.

  It was impossible for her to make any sense of the few words that she could hear.

  It was not only frustrating but she was frightened by what she had already heard.

  Whom were they going to kill?

  Why was it essential?

  It was useless to ask herself questions at this moment as she was trying desperately to hear more.

  Then, to her consternation, she heard a chair being pushed back.

  She knew that the Prince must have risen to his feet as had the man he was talking to.

  “I will leave it in your hands at the moment, Boris,” the Prince then said. “I think I know what I must do and I will communicate with you as soon as I have made a decision.”

  “Your Highness knows where to find me.”

  “Yes, of course,” the Prince answered. “And thank you. I am very grateful.”

  “I came as soon as I could, Your Highness,” the messenger replied.

  ‘“Which will give us, I think, a little time,” the Prince said. “Now let me give you a drink or some refreshment before you leave.”

  “I will stop at the nearest Posting inn,” his visitor answered. “I don’t want the people in the house to become curious.”

  “No, of course not,” the Prince agreed at once.

  He must have held out his hand be
cause he said,

  “Thank you again and take no risks until I communicate with you. At the same time, if it is possible, I am afraid that your solution is the only answer.”

  “There is no other way, Your Highness,” his friend replied. “He has to die and that is that as we just have no wish to swing for it.”

  “Certainly not,” the Prince responded.

  He must have reached the door because Meta heard it open.

  Then she reckoned that they were walking down the corridor and back to the hall.

  She waited until she thought that the visitor would be stepping into the carriage outside.

  Then she slipped out of the anteroom and ran in the opposite direction from the one that they had taken.

  There was a side staircase that took her up to the first floor.

  She went to her bedroom and collected a handkerchief.

  She already had one tucked away into the belt around her waist where it could not be seen.

  She held the new one in her hand so that it would be obvious.

  Then she walked slowly downstairs and into the drawing room.

  To her surprise Nathlia and Richard were there alone.

  They were sitting close together and Nathlia was talking to him earnestly as Meta came in.

  “Where is your brother?” she asked Nathlia. “Is he still with his unexpected visitor?”

  “I have no idea,” Nathlia answered. “If the man is a Russian, they always have too much to say. They talk and talk and then in the end nothing happens.”

  “What do you expect to happen?” Richard asked her.

  “Something exciting like dancing with you or jumping over a very high fence.”

  Richard laughed.

  “You ask too much.”

  “Not more than you can give me,” Nathlia answered.

  At that moment the door opened and the Prince came in.

  One glance at him told Meta that he had changed completely from the amusing laughing man he had been at dinner.

  Now there was an odd look about his eyes.

  Meta thought as well that there were lines on either side of his lips which had not been there before.

  Perhaps no one would have noticed it but herself and then she was vividly conscious that he had received news that had upset him.

  As she knew what it was and that someone had to die, it was not surprising.

  What was so frightening was that she had to tell Richard that someone was to be killed.