A Kiss for the King Page 11

  “I am – sorry,” Anastasia murmured uncertainly.

  “Why should you be? I was wrong to complain! Our wedding day should be an ecstatic occasion!”

  His voice was mocking and cynical.

  Then, as he saw her expression, he put out his free hand and found hers.

  “Forgive me,” he said gently in a very different tone. “I want you to be happy and sometimes I forget how young you are and that this is all new to you and doubtless exciting.”

  “I do find it very – exciting,” Anastasia answered.

  She was not certain if it was the ceremony she had in mind, or the feeling of his hand on hers.

  *

  The banquet that was waiting for them when they arrived back at the Palace seemed to go on endlessly. Course succeeded course and the crystal glasses beside everyone’s plate were filled to the brim with superlative wines.

  Anastasia began to feel a little tired. The diamond wreath was heavy on her head and the State Banqueting Hall with so many people in it seemed stifling.

  At the same time she knew she must make every effort to create a good impression on the royal personages who had come so far for the wedding ceremony.

  In fact it was easy to charm the men, but she had a feeling that the Queens and Princesses looked at her a little contemptuously, as if they thought her far too immature to take her place among them.

  But perhaps it was only her imagination, and maybe she was feeling particularly sensitive during an ordeal, which was more demanding than anything she had ever been obliged to experience before.

  There were long speeches, all in French, and finally the King himself rose to reply to them.

  Anastasia was glad that he spoke briefly and managed to make the assembled company laugh.

  He said how much he welcomed their company on what was undoubtedly the happiest day of his life, on which he had been married to someone so beautiful and so charming that it was difficult to believe there was another man in the whole world who could have been more blessed by fate.

  ‘He does not mean a word of it,’ Anastasia thought to herself.

  Relentlessly her eyes were drawn to where, at another table, the diplomatic representatives of many countries were seated.

  She could see the Comtesse le Granmont, it would indeed have been impossible not to notice her, however large the crowd.

  She was wearing a dress of emerald green that seemed more voluminous, more ostentatious and more elaborately contrived than the gown of any other woman in the room. Her tiara was certainly higher and, more impressive than those of the other diplomats’ wives, and the emeralds and diamonds round her neck and wrists almost outshone the crystal chandeliers.

  But it was not her clothes that made Anastasia keep glancing at her, but the attractiveness of her face.

  ‘She is fascinating,’ Anastasia thought dismally, ‘in a manner that I could never hope to emulate!’

  She could see the Comtesse gesticulating, her eyes flashing as she talked, and she realised that even the other diplomats, familiar as they must be with her, were apparently entranced by what she had to say.

  She wondered if the King was watching her too, and while she did not actually see him glance in her direction, she could not help feeling that he could not fail to notice anyone so obviously outstanding, even if he had not been wishing to see her for other reasons.

  When the banquet was over, there was a reception in the Hall of Mirrors to which a great many other guests had been invited.

  Here a six-tiered wedding cake was waiting to be cut and powdered flunkeys were dispensing champagne.

  A band was playing softly in one corner of the Hall and once again, despite the crowds, Anastasia could see herself reflected and re-reflected in the mirrors that lined the walls.

  There were so many people to talk to and a bewildering sea of faces moved before her eyes, and yet none had substance.

  Captain Aznar brought Anastasia a glass of champagne.

  “I feel you need it, ma’am.”

  “Thank you,” Anastasia answered gratefully.

  Three times during the reception Anastasia and the King had to go out on the balcony of the Palace to wave to the great crowds of people assembled outside.

  A roar of voices greeted them and the sound was deafening as they stood looking down at their enthusiastic and rejoicing subjects.

  Then, after the reception had seemed to go on for hours and hours, Anastasia had to say goodbye to her mother. The Grand Duchess, fortunately, was not travelling alone, for there were several European Royalties who were glad of the chance to get home quickly by travelling in H.M.S. Warrior rather than overland.

  “Goodbye, dearest Mama,” Anastasia said wistfully and wanted to ask her to stay.

  “Goodbye, my dear child,” the Grand Duchess replied. “This has been a very happy day for me. I only wish your father could have been here to see you married and to meet your husband.”

  “I am sure he would have been pleased, Mama.”

  The Grand Duchess and her companions left from a side door of the Palace to avoid the crowds, and Anastasia and the King stood waving until the carriage had turned out of the gate.

  It was as they walked back towards the hall that Anastasia suddenly felt alone.

  It was as if her last link with England had gone and now she had no one to depend upon, no one to guide her, except perhaps her husband.

  She glanced a little nervously at the King.

  “Are you tired?” he asked. “Would you like to retire? I am afraid I have a large number of relatives to whom I must say goodbye before I can consider myself ‘off duty’.”

  “If no one would think it rude, I would like a chance to take off my wreath, which is very heavy.”

  “How stupid of me!” the King exclaimed. “I should have remembered that my mother always said it gave her a headache. You could have perhaps changed into something lighter.”

  “It is too late now,” Anastasia said with a smile, “but if you are certain no one will miss me, I would like to go upstairs.”

  “I will come to you as soon as I can,” the King said. “Thank you, Anastasia for having been so charming to everyone.”

  He raised her hands to his lips, and Anastasia found that Captain Aznar was at her side waiting to escort her upstairs.

  They moved out of earshot of the servants before she asked,

  “Was everything all right?”

  “You know it was, ma’am! You were absolutely amazing! They went up several steps before he said,

  “Your gesture with your bouquet yesterday has caught the imagination of the people. The newspapers are full of it.”

  “I am afraid I have not had time to look at them,” Anastasia said.

  “That is not surprising,” he replied. “But you have made our people think you care about them, and that is exactly what I prayed you would do.”

  “I owe so much to you,” Anastasia said.

  She saw the pleasure in his eyes, and then she bade him goodnight and went into her bedroom.

  Olivia was waiting for her.

  Anastasia sat down thankfully on a chair and let her maid take the wreath from her head. As she did so she looked at a small gold clock on her dressing table and realised it was later than she had expected.

  “Does Your Majesty want anything to eat or drink?” Olivia asked.

  Anastasia shook her head.

  “I could not face anything more,” she answered. “I thought the banquet would never end!”

  “They are always protracted,” Olivia answered, “but when His Majesty is alone he eats very quickly and only has a small number of courses.”

  “That is something to be grateful for!”

  “Would you like to go to bed, Your Majesty?” Olivia enquired.

  “I think I will undress,” Anastasia answered. “Very few guests have left and I feel it will be a long time before the King gets away.”

  “I should think it will be an hour or
more. Your Majesty has had a very tiring day, but you looked beautiful, more beautiful than any Queen of Maurona has ever looked!”

  Anastasia had a bath and then Olivia handed her one of the beautiful nightgowns, which she and the Grand Duchess had bought in Bond Street.

  It was inset with lace and over it Anastasia put on a wrapper of pale blue satin, the wide sleeves of which were edged with swansdown. It was a diaphanous garment that seemed to encompass her like a blue cloud. With her fair hair and big blue eyes, she looked rather like a small angel fallen out of a summer sky.

  It was after half past eleven when Olivia left her, but Anastasia did not get into bed. Instead she sat down in a deep armchair by the fireside.

  It had been warm during the day, but now the sun had gone down there was a chill in the air from the mountain snow, which still lingered on the distant peaks.

  She sat staring into the flames and the clock on the mantelpiece chimed midnight before the door, which communicated with the King’s Suite opened, and the King came in.

  He too had undressed and was wearing a long robe to the floor with a high velvet collar and deep cuffs. He closed the door behind him and advanced towards the hearthrug.

  “Not in bed, Anastasia?” he asked. “I thought you would be tired after such a long day.”

  “I am tired,” Anastasia answered, “but I want to – talk to – you.”

  The King smiled.

  “Is it not rather late for conversation?”

  “Not for what I – have to – say,” Anastasia answered.

  He looked at her and she thought there was a searching glance in his eyes as if she perplexed him.

  Then, because she obviously expected it of him, he sat down in the chair opposite her.

  The firelight played on Anastasia’s hair turning it to living gold and illuminating her small, serious face.

  The only other light in the room came from the candles and candelabra standing on either side of the big canopied and silk-draped bed.

  “We have not had a chance to be alone until now,” the King said, as Anastasia did not speak. “I am sorry that the storm should have delayed you so that we had no opportunity to get to know each other before we were married.”

  He paused and added,

  “May I say how very happy I am that you should be my wife? I have a feeling, Anastasia, that we have many years of contentment ahead of us.”

  Anastasia drew in her breath and then she murmured in a very small voice,

  “You will not be – angry if tell you what I am – thinking?”

  “I am sure I would find it very difficult to be angry with you.”

  “You cannot be certain of that until you – hear what I have to – say.”

  “I cannot imagine what it is you want to tell me,” he said, “but if it will make things any easier for you, I am prepared to promise I will not be angry.”

  Anastasia looked at him, her eyes very blue in the light from the flames.

  “I – think,” she said in a hesitating little voice, “that you will – expect tonight – now that we are – married, a-and other people will expect it too, that, you – should make – love to me.”

  “It is certainly usual where a bride and groom are concerned.”

  “I do not – know, because Mama would not – tell me,” Anastasia went on, “what – happens when a man makes love to his – wife, but for us – I think it would be a – mistake.”

  There was no doubt that the King was surprised.

  He had been leaning back in the armchair looking at Anastasia and now he sat up and for a moment there was no smile on his lips.

  “Why should you think it a mistake?” he asked.

  “Because,” Anastasia replied, “if two people are to – make love together – they should be in – love.”

  The King was still and then he said,

  “We have had no opportunity, Anastasia, of falling in love with each other.”

  “I – I know that,” Anastasia answered, “and – because I think you – love someone else, I would not – want you to – pretend where I am concerned.”

  The King stiffened.

  “Who has been talking to you?” he asked sharply.

  Anastasia did not reply and he said,

  “If I thought it was one of my servants – Captain Aznar, for instance – I would dismiss him instantly!”

  “No – no, Captain Aznar would not presume to mention such a thing,” Anastasia answered. “I was told that your heart was – involved before I left England.”

  “Surely that is impossible!” the King ejaculated. “Who could have dared to suggest – who could have known?”

  “That is immaterial. The point is I do know that you – care for someone.”

  “And yet you were prepared to marry me?” the King asked.

  “I had no choice – at least, that is not quite true – ”

  “There was someone else who wished to marry you?”

  “Yes, there was,” Anastasia admitted, “but it would not have been permitted and we should have had to run away.”

  “And you were not brave enough to do so?”

  There was no mistaking the cynical twist to his lips.

  “It was not that,” Anastasia replied. “If I had loved him enough I would have gone, however – reprehensible it might have been, however angry it would have made Mama and the Queen – but I did not love him.”

  “But he loved you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you not tempted, in the circumstances, to go away with a man who loved you rather than come to a strange country to marry a man whom you thought cared for someone else?”

  “I did think about it very seriously,” Anastasia answered, “but when I was sure I did not love Christopher, I thought it would be stupid to cause such a fuss.”

  “Are you quite certain you do not love him?” the King asked curiously.

  “When he tried to kiss me I – struggled because I did not – want him to,” Anastasia explained.

  “You have never been kissed?”

  Anastasia shook her head.

  “No, and that is why I feel I would not want you to kiss me when you were wishing that you were – kissing – someone else.”

  “It would not be like that,” the King said in his deep voice. “I would like to kiss you, Anastasia, and I would not be thinking of anyone else.”

  “You could not be sure of that,” Anastasia replied, “and certainly I would be – thinking of – her.”

  The King rose to his feet as if he found it difficult to think when he was sitting down.

  He walked across the big room to the bed and back again.

  “I will be frank with you, Anastasia,” he said after a moment. “I never expected to have a conversation like this with you on our wedding night. I understand – of course I understand –what you have been trying to say to me, but I think it important that we should live what might be called a ‘normal’ married life.”

  He paused before he continued,

  “If I ‘make love’ to you, as you call it, I would not be thinking of anyone else. I would be thinking of you and I hope you will find that we will enjoy together what can be a very happy and fulfilling experience.”

  Anastasia looked at him her eyes very wide and then she said,

  “I am very – ignorant of such matters, but I have been – told about the beautiful – ladies of Paris, and how gentlemen like yourself and the – Emperor visit them and give them magnificent presents – ”

  She paused and after a moment the King responded curiously,

  “Go on!”

  “I don’t understand what – happens, or why the ladies are – paid so extravagantly, but I have been thinking – perhaps incorrectly – that the only – difference between what they give a man and what I could – give him would be – love.”

  The King sat silent, suddenly still, almost as if he had been arrested.

  “You may laugh at me for think
ing this,” Anastasia continued after a moment in a worried little voice, “but surely the actual – love-making between a man and a woman must have been the same all through the ages since – Adam and Eve?”

  The King did not answer and she went on,

  “That is why the difference – I have thought – must be not in a person’s body, but in their mind. Am I – wrong?”

  She waited anxiously while her question seemed to hang in the air between them.

  Then the King said very quietly,

  “No, Anastasia. You are right! But I am surprised that you should have worked it out for yourself.”

  “I thought how love has inspired so many people in the past,” Anastasia answered. “I thought of Helen of Troy – of the knights who fought for their ladies’ favours and were prepared to die so that they would be proud of them.”

  She made a nervous little gesture with her hand as she carried on,

  “I thought of Romeo and Juliet, Dante and Beatrice, and other famous lovers and I am certain that what is important, what one should always search for if one is to have a happy marriage, is – love.”

  The King’s eyes were on her face and she continued,

  “Please don’t be angry – but you do understand that I am asking you not to – really be my – husband until perhaps we can come to – love each other.”

  “I am certainly not angry,” the King replied after a moment, “I am just surprised!”

  “I want to be a very good Queen,” Anastasia said earnestly, “and I would like to be a good wife as well – and I think it might be easy – when I get to know you better – to fall in love with you.”

  She gave a little sigh,

  “But perhaps you will never be in love with me.”

  There was a long silence.

  “I think the only answer to that,” the King said eventually, “is that we shall have to wait and see. You have explained everything very sensibly and intelligently, Anastasia. In describing to me your attractions before you arrived in Maurona, they forgot to mention that you have an extremely astute brain. It was something I had not anticipated.”

  “It is kind of you not to be – angry.”

  “I deeply regret that you should have heard rumours about my indiscretions before you had even arrived. That is something that should not have occurred.”