“Meta was afraid you might have had an accident,” Nathlia said, “but we have something very exciting to tell you.”
The Prince looked from his sister to Richard.
“Can I guess?” he smiled.
“I am asking your permission, sir,” Richard said, “to marry your sister.”
“That is precisely what I wanted you to say,” the Prince answered. “I know that you will look after her and protect her in every possible way.”
“That is exactly what I told Richard he would most certainly do,” Meta added.
The Prince turned to look at her for the first time since he had come into the room.
“So you were worried about me?” he then quizzed her.
“Of course I was,” she answered. “We had already planned that if you did not come back in the next half an hour, everyone would be sent out to search for you.”
“At least I have saved you that inconvenience,” the Prince grinned.
Richard had gone to the side table to fetch him a glass of champagne.
“I am sure you need this,” he suggested, “and I expect you are hungry as well.”
“I am indeed hungry, but I did not realise it until now,” the Prince answered.
He sipped the champagne and Meta thought that because he was upset he was drinking in a very different way from when he had poured it down like a Russian.
‘Why has he changed?’ she wondered. ‘What could have happened to make him quite so different?’
Bell announced dinner and they walked into the dining room.
It was a rather quiet meal with the Prince and Richard talking to each other most of the time.
Nathlia appeared to listen to the conversation, but her eyes were on Richard.
Meta knew that she was adoring him and she was thinking whatever he said was a voice from Heaven.
As far as she was concerned, it was difficult to eat anything.
She was so relieved that the Prince had finally come home.
At the same time every instinct in her body told her that beneath the surface calm there was a burning fire of danger.
Yet why had the Prince altered so much?
Why did he not seem to be perturbed as he had been when he had left them last night?
There were a thousand questions moving in her brain and she could not answer any of them.
Then, when dinner was finished and they were just about to move into the drawing room, the Prince said in a quiet voice to Richard,
“I want to talk to Meta. There is something I want to tell her alone and afterwards I wish to talk to you and Nathlia.”
“But, of course,” Richard replied as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “We will wait for you in the drawing room unless you would rather be in there with Meta.”
“We will go into the music room,” the Prince said.
He rose from the table as he spoke and they walked towards the door. The ladies passed through first and then, as Nathlia went into the drawing room, Meta walked on slowly down the passage.
The Prince joined her and she thought that perhaps he would take her hand or her arm.
Instead he walked a little way ahead to open the door of the music room.
To her surprise the candles had all been lit.
She knew that he must have given the order either to his valet or to one of the footmen.
Without speaking he crossed the room and pushed the chair that she had sat in before into position beside the piano.
Because he did not speak to her, Meta was also silent.
As she sat facing him, she thought again how calm and unperturbed he appeared and she could not understand it.
If he had to destroy this man of whom he had spoken to the Russian, why should it not upset him now as much as it clearly did last night?
She could not think of any possible way in which he had communicated with any of the Russians on his ride over the estate.
Therefore the dangerous and horrible task of murdering a man still confronted him.
‘I will never understand,’ Meta thought to herself.
Her instinct told her that she must not ask him any questionsm but just do what the Prince wanted, strange though it might be.
Very quietly he ran his fingers over the keys and then began to play the exquisite music that he had composed and had played to her before.
He had said then that he would never play it again.
Yet she was hearing it and it was moving her heart within her breast just as it had done the first time that she had listened to it.
She could feel the ecstasy with which he had written it seeping through her whole body.
She felt as if he had touched her heart and then her soul.
They both responded to him so she became an integral part of his music, which was also indivisible from him.
She found her love for him increasing with every note, a love that she could never reveal to him but he was drawing it from her.
She felt that if he ever stopped playing she would throw herself into his arms, which was where she belonged.
‘I love you – I love you,’ she said over and over in her heart.
She knew that he was telling her of his love and making it both perfect and beautiful.
At the same time it was so spiritual that it was not human but a part of God.
Then the music came to the place where he had let it die away very softly until there was silence.
Then, to her surprise, he went on and the music that had been in some way tempestuous and demanding became quiet and peaceful.
Yet it was deeply touching and overwhelming and she felt like crying out from the sheer joy of it.
This was not the burning passion of a love demandingly ecstatic.
This was the love of peace. A love that was gentle. A love that was understanding.
Tears were in Meta’s eyes and the Prince raised his hands.
As he looked at her, he said very quietly,
“That, my darling, is how I love you and how eventually we shall be so happy together for as long as we live.”
He rose and pulled Meta into his arms.
Then, as he kissed her, the tears were rolling down her cheeks.
He went on kissing her until they were both breathless.
It was so wonderful that it was almost agonising in its intensity.
‘I – love you – I love you,’ Meta wanted to say to him, but there was no need.
Her whole body and became a part of his.
Their hearts and their souls were joined for all Eternity and it would be impossible for them to be ever separated.
The Prince raised his head and in a voice that was deep and unsteady, he said,
“I adore you, I worship you. I thought that you did not exist, but I have found you. Now you are mine and I can never lose you.”
“I love – you,” Meta whispered.
“And I love you, my precious Meta, my darling.”
He kissed her again.
It was a long kiss and one that seemed even more perfect and beautiful.
Then he said,
“Now, my darling, we have to tell the others and I must tell you what I intend to do.”
Meta found it difficult to breathe.
She had forgotten in the ecstasy of the Prince’s kisses the dark cloud that hung over him and the murder that had to be committed.
She wanted to cry out that he could not spoil this sublime moment.
Because they were alone, they could not go back to be with Richard and Nathlia.
But there was something purposeful and authoritative in the way that he had spoken.
She knew that she could not hurt him in any way, but would do exactly what he wished. He shut down the piano as if he was shutting away the music that he had just played to her.
Then with his arm around her shoulders, they walked towards the door.
“I want to – stay here with – you,” Meta whispered.
She knew that it was no use saying anything more and they walked slowly and in silence down the passage and into the drawing room.
Nathlia and Richard were sitting very close to each other on the sofa.
When the Prince and Meta came in, they both stood up.
“We have been waiting for you,” Richard said as if he felt that he must say something. “And we have been trying very hard not to be impatient.”
The Prince crossed the room to the fireplace.
Then he indicated to Meta to sit down beside Nathlia on the sofa and told Richard and Nathlia about Meta and himself’
As if he had commanded him to do so, Richard took the armchair in front of him.
“Now I have a story to tell,” the Prince said, “and I am afraid it is a rather dismal one.”
Meta clenched her fingers together.
She realised now that she had been told the truth and she wondered if in return Richard would tell the Prince the part they were playing on the instructions of the Prime Minister.
“After my father and mother died,” the Prince started, “I thought of leaving Russia. But Nathlia was at school in St. Petersburg and I thought that she seemed quite happy there.”
“I was,” Nathlia murmured. “Except I grew too old for the school.”
“I understood that,” the Prince said, “but just when I was thinking of coming to England and finding my mother’s relations, something very unpleasant happened.”
He paused, looking back on that moment and having difficulty putting it into words.
“I had become,” he went on, “although it may seem rather odd, somewhat of a favourite of the Czar. I think it was due to the fact that I was a good rider and unlike most of the people around him, I was not as afraid of him as they were.”
“He is a horrid beastly man,” Nathlia said impulsively. “Everyone hates him and he – terrifies them all, even the girls at school.”
“I did not want to believe all the stories against him,” the Prince went on, “but then I learnt that a friend of mine who had incurred his displeasure was to be murdered.”
“But why?” Richard asked.
“Actually there seemed no reason for it,” the Prince replied, “except that Czar Alexander did not like him. He ordered one of the top men in the Third Section, Ivor Shakovski, to see to it that he had a ‘regrettable accident’.”
Meta gave a little shiver.
“To Ivor Shakovski,” the Prince said, “that would be easy to accomplish but, because he is a sadist, I was certain that he would torture my friend and extort some confessions from him that would make the Czar feel he was utterly justified in ordering him to be murdered.”
“It sounds horrible, but I am quite sure that there was nothing that you could possibly do about it,” Richard suggested.
“That is what I thought at first,” the Prince replied. “Instead I helped my friend to escape from Russia overnight. It was not an easy thing to do, but we managed it. When he was safely over the Russian border, I told the Czar what I had done.”
Nathlia gave a cry.
“How could you have done anything quite so stupid – oh, Alexis, he might have had you killed.”
“That was what I expected. But at the same time I just could not allow my good friend to suffer quite unnecessarily in the appalling way that had been planned for him.”
“What happened?” Richard asked.
“To my surprise the Czar laughed. I think it was just the impertinence of it that amused him.”
“Then you were very lucky,” Richard remarked.
“I was aware of that but, of course, one can never trust Alexander III not to do something unpleasant even when he was laughing.”
“What did he do?” Richard enquired.
“He told Shakovski that he was a fool and incompetent. He then stripped him of his post, which was more or less being the Head of the Third Section.”
There was a silence while the three listeners stared at the Prince.
Then Richard said slowly,
“So I imagine that Shakovski was determined to avenge himself on you?”
“Naturally,” the Prince agreed. “I realised I had little time to save myself and Nathlia. But we managed to leave St. Petersburg only two hours after I had learned of Shakovski’s downfall.”
“You were aware that he intended to kill you?” Richard asked.
“Of course,” the Prince answered. “If I had not known it instinctively, there were a dozen people to tell me the things he intended to do to me when he had caught me.”
Meta gave a little cry.
“Oh, Alexis, that is the most terrifying story I have ever heard.”
“That is what I thought myself,” the Prince agreed, “but we managed, with the help of my servants who had always been very faithful to me and two friends who risked their lives to save me, to reach the sea. We found a ship which took us to Denmark and from there we boarded one for England.”
“We thought we were safe,” Nathlia exclaimed.
“I just could not believe and it was very stupid of me,” the Prince said, “that Shakovski would follow us. He had to work his way back into the position he had lost and I thought that this would occupy him for some considerable time at any rate.”
“I could understand you thinking that,” Richard said. “And I know now why you did not want to stay in London.”
“Exactly,” the Prince agreed. “The Czar has quite a number of spies there and I rather foolishly thought that I would be safe in the country and, of course, safe with you.”
“Why me?” Richard asked.
“Because, my dear Richard,” the Prince replied, “I know that you have been involved in a certain amount of espionage and I therefore thought that I would be safer in your house than I would in that of any ordinary Englishman who would, of course, not know a spy even if he was labelled.”
“So you knew about me,” Richard asked almost incredulously.
“The Russian Secret Service is everywhere at this moment,” the Prince answered. “It has doubled and trebled since Alexander came to the throne. When I reached England, a Russian gave me your name and told me that he thought I would be safe in the country with you.”
Meta could hardly believe what the Prince was saying.
It seemed so incredible that he should have been aware of what Richard was doing for the Queen and what they had thought was a complete and absolute secret.
Then, because she could not prevent herself, Meta asked him,
“But what happened last night? What did the Russian who came here to see you tell you? What upset you so much?”
“He told me,” the Prince said very quietly, “that Shakovski had arrived in England.”
“I don’t believe it,” Richard exclaimed.
“It is unfortunately true and so he is determined to dispose of me unless, of course, I can dispose of him first.”
Meta closed her eyes.
She was thanking God that the Prince was not trying to destroy, as they had feared, the Prime Minister or the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs.
He was just guarding himself against a savage Russian who was intending to kill him.
At the same time she was really terrified that this man with such a reputation would be successful in his mission.
“What can – you do? What – can you – do?” she asked aloud.
“I will tell you what I have decided to do,” the Prince answered, “and I have thought it all out very carefully.”
“You know that we will help you in every way we possibly can,” Richard offered.
“Thank you,” the Prince replied. “But knowing Shakovski, now he is here, means that every step I take and every breath I draw may be my last.”
Meta gave a cry of horror.
But the Prince went on,
“That is why I have
decided to go to America.”
‘To America!” Richard exclaimed in astonishment.
“It is a very large country and if I change my identify, I doubt if even Shakovski would be clever enough to find, me.”
“I cannot – let you – go,” Meta cried. “How can I – lose you?”
She jumped up from the sofa and ran to stand beside him, looking up at him pleadingly.
“My darling,” he said, “do you really think I would lose you now?”
“I can – come with – you?” Meta asked.
“Not at once,” he replied. “I am going out first to find a place where we can settle down and be happy. Very very happy because we are together.”
“But I shall be – terrified every – moment you are – away in case that – ghastly Russian follows you – or finds someone in America who will – kill you.”
“He will not do that. I know how his mind works,” the Prince said. “He is determined personally to have his revenge for what I made him suffer.”
He looked at Richard as he spoke.
They both knew that if he was in the clutches of Shakovski, he would be tortured and kept alive for a long time before he was allowed to die in agony.
The Prince put his arm round Meta and, holding her, he said,
“Every moment that I am away from you, my darling, will be as agonising for me as it is for you. But I have to protect you and that is why we have to find a place where I am quite certain we shall be safe. We will have our children and live as an ordinary couple without anyone being interested in us.”
“You have a different passport?” Richard asked him in a practical tone.
The Prince nodded.
“I had one once before when I thought of leaving Russia and might well be in a hurry. It is in the name of Andrew Clyde and, although I have a faint accent, I am of Scottish descent.”
Richard laughed.
“That will go down well in America. They like the Scots over there!”
“That is what I thought,” the Prince said, “and I was in fact going to ask you to look after Nathlia for me but I think you intend to do that anyway.”
“I promise you I will protect her,” Richard vowed.
“But – I want to – protect you,” Meta said to the Prince. “I am sure – you cannot look – after yourself – properly. I want to be with – you and I don’t mind how – uncomfortable it is just as long as can be together.”
The Protection of Love Page 12