A Princess in Distress Read online

  Author’s Note

  Marienbad, one of the most beautiful Spas in Europe, is now called Mariánské Láznĕ and is in the Czech Republic. The waters are still beneficial, but there are no Kings or Princes to drink them outside the cast iron Colonnade built in 1889.

  The Eszterházy Palace at Fertöd was badly damaged during the last war, but is now a museum that is visited by one hundred thousand tourists every year.

  The background of this novel, the Politics, King Edward VII’s role as ‘Uncle of Europe’, the difficulties he had with his nephew Kaiser Wilhelm and how he journeyed and achieved a French Entente Cordiale are all part of history.

  But as King Edward accurately predicted, it was the German Generals and High Command that finally pressured the Kaiser into declaring war in 1914.

  Chapter One 1905

  Lord Arkley walked across the sitting room and out onto the balcony.

  It was dark but there were stars overhead and the lights from the hotel illuminated the Park from where one could look across the small town to the panorama of the wooded valley stretching beyond it.

  It was not the first time that Lord Arkley had been to Marienbad and he thought it more attractive and more enjoyable than the other Spas that had been made fashionable by King Edward VII.

  Every year after the Regatta at Cowes in the Isle of Wight the King went abroad to take the waters of a Spa.

  Originally he had favoured Homburg, which because of his patronage had become a social centre for all those he knew or who wished to know him.

  He had, however, now transferred his favour to Marienbad, a small town in a pleasant valley of Bohemia two thousand feet above sea level.

  Having been favoured with His Majesty’s patronage for several years Marienbad had become extremely fashionable and the chosen Spa of numerous members of Europe’s oldest families.

  Although the King was on holiday and travelling incognito as the Duke of Lanchester, there were always Statesmen, Courtiers, Politicians and people on some special mission intent on seeing him.

  It was impossible for the King to escape altogether from the responsibilities of Monarchy, although in point of fact he had no wish to do so.

  After being kept for so long in the wilderness by his mother Queen Victoria, who had never allowed him to take part in the Affairs of State, his obvious satisfaction in being entrusted with important confidences was almost childlike.

  But now he was King, those who served him were beginning to realise that his numerous contacts with ruling Dynasties, his charm, tact and his way of drawing men out in conversation stood him in good stead as a roving Diplomat.

  Every year added to his reputation as a successful mediator.

  Lord Arkley knew that the King would be waiting impatiently to hear the results of a secret mission that he had just concluded, but he was tired and having just arrived had no intention of seeking a private audience with the King until tomorrow.

  He had dined on the train and he therefore had no need for anything more resuscitating than a glass of champagne that he now held in his hand.

  After several weeks of travelling, which were less exhausting than the necessity of always being on his guard and his knowledge that the German States where he had been entertained were definitely suspicious of him, he could feel his tension relaxing.

  It was pleasant to breathe the air that smelt of pines and he thought with a twist of his lips that tomorrow he might even drink the waters of the Spa.

  The springs at Marienbad were reputed to have the highest iron content in the world and he thought that at the moment iron was what he needed.

  In the distance he could hear the sound of music, which combined with the light from the stars and the fragrance of the pines and of the flowers that filled the garden beneath the hotel, created a very romantic atmosphere.

  Then Lord Arkley told himself somewhat wryly that the one thing he was quite certain about was that he had no time at this moment in his life for romance.

  As he thought of it he heard a woman scream. It was not a loud scream, but rather the sound of a small animal that had been hurt.

  Then he heard a voice saying pleadingly,

  “Please – Friederich – let me go! You will be – sorry for this – tomorrow!”

  The woman spoke in English and there was a note of fear in her voice that was pathetic.

  A man answered her in German, swearing at her in a string of oaths that were so slurred that Lord Arkley realised that he must be drunk.

  “Please – Friederich – please! You must not – whip me again. You know it is – something you should – not do.”

  There was a guttural sound followed by another scream that seemed to begin involuntarily and then be checked so that it became nothing but a stifled groan.

  Lord Arkley looked around him in consternation.

  For a moment he was not aware where the sounds came from. Then he realised that the people he was overhearing were in the room next to his.

  The Hotel Weimar was an imposing yellow-washed building, typical of the grand hotels that were being built at social resorts the length and breadth of the Continent.

  They were all designed with suites, attics and boxrooms for demanding guests who intended to stay for at least three weeks accompanied by a large retinue of servants.

  The Weimar, which was more elegant and impressive than most, was, Lord Arkley had always thought, a successful cross between a baroque Bohemian Shooting Lodge and a French provincial Opera House.

  A stone balcony, several times as wide as a hotel corridor, ran the whole length of the first floor where were situated the most expensive suites.

  King Edward always engaged five rooms on the first floor at the other end of the hotel and Lord Arkley had recognised that the obsequious Hotel Manager, Herr Hammerschmid, showed awareness of his importance when he assigned him a suite on the same floor as His Majesty.

  He realised that it was through the windows opening onto the balcony next to his own that the voices he overheard had come, but he knew that whoever was being hurt it would be impossible for him to interfere.

  At the same time something very English made him clench his fists together as he heard what he was sure was the swish of a whip and again the cry of a small injured animal.

  ‘This is intolerable!’ he thought angrily. ‘How can that damned German treat anyone in such a way, let alone a woman?’

  He heard the blows repeated again and again and now someone was sobbing helplessly and with an abandonment that would have made any man, drunk or sober, know himself to be a beast and a brute.

  To Lord Arkley’s relief there was an interruption.

  Someone else must have entered the room for he heard another voice, obviously a servant’s saying in German,

  “Now come along, Your Royal Highness. It’s time for me to put you to bed. Give me the whip, I beg Your Royal Highness. You have done enough.”

  There was another burst of swearing with a series of the most obscene oaths that Lord Arkley had ever heard.

  But the servant’s voice was soothing and at the same time commanding and the drunken voice began to die away into the distance as if the perpetrator of the violence was being taken from the room.

  There was no sound now from the woman and Lord Arkley wondered if she was unconscious and if there was anyone to help her.

  He stood waiting, feeling as if, having overheard the beginning of a drama, he must know the end of it.

  He walked to the edge of the balcony and leaned against the balustrade wondering who among the many German Royal Highnesses was a drunkard and a brute.

  He thought with a slight twist of his lips that there might be quite a number of them.

  Like the King, Lord Arkley found the overbearing German attitude of superiority as personified by the Kaiser somewhat hard to tolerate.

  The real reason why the King had left Homburg was that although it was a pleasant Spa it was, not surprisingly, very German.

  With typical Germanic thoroughness everything was regulated on almost Military lines. This was hardly the King’s idea of informality, which for him was one of the greatest pleasures in life, especially when on holiday.

  Not only did he appreciate the gaiety and easy-going ways of Austria-Hungary in general and Marienbad in particular, but it was an inexpressible relief that Bohemia was not under the German flag.

  At Homburg he had been in his nephew’s Kingdom and to King Edward the Kaiser Wilhelm was the complete negation of his idea of jollity and relaxation.

  “Especially,” Lord Arkley had said often enough to his friends, “as the Kaiser privately and often publicly expresses disapproval of the King’s friends and personal morals.”

  As his last three weeks had been spent exclusively in Germany, Lord Arkley found his mind running over the small Kingdoms he had visited and their Monarchs, Grand Dukes and Royal Highnesses, all of whom had one characteristic in common, a very inflated idea of their own importance.

  But it seemed impossible to believe that any of them could treat a woman in such a cruel fashion.

  But there were unpleasant tales of ‘Houses of Pleasure’ in many parts of Germany frequented by the Officer class in search of more unusual erotic pleasures than were usually provided in such places.

  Yet it seemed incredible to Lord Arkley that women who submitted themselves to such treatment for money should be found in the Hotel Weimar.

  The balconies of each suite were separated only by a low stone w
all that was however raised to the height of a man by trellises with roses, wisteria and vines climbing up them.

  It was quite easy to see through them onto the next balcony and now Lord Arkley perceived a woman walking from the lit room behind her and crossing the balcony to the balustrade.

  She moved in a manner that told him she was in pain and he felt, although he could not see her face, that she was faint from the treatment she had received and was seeking fresh air.

  He was sure of this as when she reached the balustrade she held onto it with both hands as if to prevent herself falling.

  The vines and plants were trained at an artistic angle away from the edge of the balcony so that Lord Arkley could see her now quite clearly in the light from the stars and from the gardens, which were cleverly illuminated at night.

  She was wearing white and was, he realised, very thin, or else she was very young.

  For a moment he thought in fact that she was a child and felt an almost inevitable fury rising within him.

  Then the ‘child’ holding onto the balustrade turned her face up to the stars and Lord Arkley saw that she was in fact a woman, though undoubtedly a young one.

  Her features, silhouetted against the sky, were very delicate and, he thought, aristocratic and the long line of her neck was very lovely.

  She was certainly not a child, and now he saw that there were diamonds in her hair and around her neck glittering against the décolletage of her evening gown.

  He thought that she was breathing deeply in an attempt to fight the faintness that he was sure had rendered her unconscious for a while.

  Then she gave a quite audible little sob and turned to move slowly with dragging steps back across the balcony and into the room.

  Lord Arkley watched her go and then he drank the champagne from the glass he still held in his hand as if he felt the need of it.

  Who could she be? And how could anyone so exquisite be treated in such an inhuman manner?

  He had not seen her face clearly, but somehow he was sure that she was beautiful.

  Lord Arkley was a very experienced judge of women.

  In fact the King had often said to him,

  “I don’t know who is the worst roué, Arkley, you or I, but at least I have a good start!”

  It was a joke that amused him so much that he repeated it several times. Although Lord Arkley never spoke about his love affairs, he was well aware that it was impossible for him as it was for His Majesty to keep them entirely secret.

  Beautiful women, and there were a great number of them circling round the Court, had made it clear that they were only too delighted to welcome Lord Arkley as a lover.

  He would have been inhuman if he had not availed himself of the favours that were so generously offered.

  It was understood amongst the Marlborough Set and by the Social world, which had now moved to Buckingham Palace, that the only Commandments that mattered were, ‘Thou shalt not be found out!’ and ‘Thou shalt not cause a scandal!’

  And everything concerning love affairs was arranged extremely discreetly.

  Lord Arkley often thought that the great hostesses who prided themselves on making the King and young men like himself extremely welcome and comfortable in their splendid houses sensed that an attachment was in ‘the offing’ almost before he was aware of it himself.

  He was at the moment, however, in the process of extricating himself from the soft scented arms of a lady who had become too possessive and too demanding.

  Lord Arkley liked his freedom, he enjoyed being his own Master.

  He was far too dominant a personality ever to become subservient to a woman and, although he was an ardent sensitive lover, he must always be the Master.

  He would never allow himself to be cajoled or pressured into obeying a woman’s command.

  Although it had been tiresome to be sent on this special mission that the King had assigned him to, it had in fact been rather a relief to leave England and escape from his private problems.

  He hoped now that he had made it quite clear that the liaison would not be renewed on his return.

  Although he was a masterful man, some finer instinct within him made him want to treat women chivalrously and honourably.

  He could hardly believe it possible that what he had first overheard had really taken place!

  As he walked back into the sitting room of his suite, he thought that it would be impossible to sleep until he had assuaged his curiosity as to the identity of the occupants of the room next door.

  His valet was waiting for him and he knew that Hawkins would see that he was not left in ignorance for long.

  Hawkins had been with him for ten years and there were few of his Master’s secrets that he was not aware of.

  A county man, he came from Lord Arkley’s estate. His father was a gamekeeper, but Hawkins had a sharp intelligence that Lord Arkley had found a most useful asset in the life he led.

  Hawkins was adept at finding out secrets from other servants and sometimes brought him extremely valuable information and he had also on quite a number of occasions played Cupid’s messenger.

  Lord Arkley walked from the sitting room, which was furnished with a heavy pomposity that might have been expected, into the bedroom that opened out of it.

  Hawkins was unpacking one of his leather trunks and had already laid out his ivory-backed hairbrushes and other toilet requisites tidily on the large mahogany dressing table.

  “Leave that for the moment, Hawkins,” Lord Arkley said. “I want you to find out who is in the suite on the left of us. I understand that they are Royalty, but I cannot put a name to them.”

  “I’ll do that, my Lord,” Hawkins replied.

  He put the coat he held in his hand onto a hanger and hitched it to the bar inside the wardrobe. Then without asking any further questions he went from the room.

  Lord Arkley walked back into his sitting room, poured himself another glass of champagne and stood thinking.

  It really annoyed him that he could not immediately put a name to the man next door.

  There were few European Rulers whom he did not know well and who, because of his position in the King’s household, did not welcome him.

  Outwardly they were always effusive, whatever their innermost feelings might be.

  It was not long before Hawkins returned having. Lord Arkley assumed, found the answer he sought from a chambermaid or a hotel valet.

  Hawkins, who had a roving eye, was very adept at making use of chambermaids, especially if they were attractive, and the Bohemians had a smiling charm that was appreciated by not only Hawkins but a large number of visitors to Marienbad.

  “Well, Hawkins?” Lord Arkley asked as the valet came into the room closing the door carefully behind him.

  “The occupants of the suite next door, my Lord, are His Royal Highness Prince Friederich of Wilzenstein and Her Royal Highness Princess Mariska.”

  “Good God!”

  Lord Arkley expostulated the words beneath his breath while aloud he said,

  “Thank you, Hawkins. That was what I wished to know.”

  The valet went back into the bedroom and Lord Arkley sat down in a comfortable armchair to think over the information that he had just received.

  Now he thought that it was something he might have suspected, but in fact Friederich, Grand Duke of Wilzenstein, had not entered his mind as being the villain in the drama.

  Yet he supposed in a way that there was an excuse for it.

  About three years ago the whole of Europe and especially the Monarchy had been shocked and horrified by the crime committed at the Wedding of Prince Friederich with the Countess Mariska Eszterházy.

  An anarchist who had a grievance against Rulers in general and those of German origin in particular had thrown a bomb at the bridal couple as they drove away from the Church to the Castle where the Reception was to take place.

  The bride had been unhurt, but the doctors reported that the bridegroom had had his spine shattered by the explosion of the bomb.

  It meant that for the rest of his life he would be paralysed and confined to a wheelchair.

  A shock of horror had gone through the Courts of Europe with every Monarch fearing that he might be the next victim.

  It had moreover been particularly hard on Prince Friederich who was one of the more dashing German Princes, who had modelled himself on his cousin, the Kaiser Wilhelm, and was in consequence greatly admired by his contemporaries.