The Power and the Prince Read online

  “I must say I am not looking forward to being here tomorrow,” the Viscount remarked wryly. “What about Alana?”

  “She, of course, is coming with us as far as the Station.” Shane replied. “Your story will be that she and I had to return at once to Ireland and, as Alana was upset at having to leave so unexpectedly, Charlotte came with her to keep her company.”

  “I see,” the Viscount said reflectively. “Quite frankly I would much rather come with you than stay here.”

  “That is impossible. I am sorry, Richard, but it would seem too extraordinary if we all left in a body.”

  The Viscount suddenly threw back his head and laughed.

  “I just cannot believe it!” he cried. “Here are you, arranging everything, giving me orders and then carrying off my sister in an extremely high-handed manner without even asking my permission!”

  “You know I am doing what is right,” Shane said, “and I cannot understand why you did not think of this yourself when we first knew what your aunt was up to.”

  “You have forgotten,” the Viscount replied, “that, if I had done that, none of those nice crisp notes would be filling your pockets!”

  “It has all worked out for the best,” Shane said confidently, “and now, Richard, go and hurry the girls while I pack my own things. I shall not be long.”

  *

  Travelling alone in a Second Class carriage towards Brilling, Alana thought that, while she would never be able to forget these last three days, they would always remain in her mind as a Fairytale, something completely divorced from all reality.

  Yet when Charlotte had awakened her, it seemed only two seconds after she had fallen asleep, to say that she and Shane were leaving in an hour’s time and she was to go with them, she had felt that it was the only possible ending.

  Now for the first time when she was alone, she was able to think of the wonder and the rapture of the Prince’s kiss, which had followed inevitably after he had listened to her father’s music.

  She had known that she had played on the Stradivarius what she wanted to say to him as there were no words that she could use.

  It was impossible now to deny that he had not only awakened her heart almost from the moment she had seen him but that her soul too had reached out towards him.

  She had known when he kissed her that he too was aroused in a way that could only be expressed in music.

  For one ecstatic moment when his lips had touched hers, they had known love in all its perfection, sacred and Divine, yet human and passionate, so that it swept them up into the sky and yet was part of all the beauty there was on earth.

  It had been love as she had always known it could be and would be if she found the man she belonged to, the man who was a part of herself because they had been together since the beginning of time.

  When she had agreed to go with Charlotte to Charl Castle, it had not been only to help her but also for another very personal reason.

  But she had never imagined for one moment that the Prince would be the man who, despite her resolution that she would never marry, would become an indivisible part of her heart.

  It would have been impossible, knowing the love that her father and mother had had for each other, not to be conscious of how it could be expressed in music and not to be aware that love as composed by the Great Masters was all part of the love that God had given man as a reflection of Himself.

  She believed love could never be hers in marriage, but it had nevertheless been a part of her living and breathing that she could not deny.

  She supposed that she had known from the very first moment she saw the Prince that every nerve in her body vibrated towards him and told her, ‘here is the man you seek’.

  She was sure that he must have known it too, known it when he deliberately took her into the room with the icons, and known it when his eyes looked into hers and when their lips said one thing and their hearts another.

  Even so he had continued in his determination to ask Charlotte to be his wife and she had circumvented him only at the very last moment by going with them to the Music Room.

  There they had both been carried away by the wonder of The Magic Flute and, because all her life her father had talked to her of the marvels of the Stradivarius violins, she knew that she had been very fortunate to play one.

  It was something she felt that she would never forget, any more than she would forget what had happened afterwards when the Prince had taken her in his arms and his kiss had reunited them as if they had never been apart

  Only when he kissed her until she had felt as if she must die with the sheer ecstatic bliss of it, did he raise his head to look down at her.

  For a long, long moment they were both still.

  She thought that she could see a fire somewhere in the darkness of his eyes, before he took his arms from her and, still without speaking, walked from the room and closed the door behind him.

  For a moment Alana could hardly believe what had happened and she felt so weak from the emotions she had experienced that she had to hold onto the piano for support.

  Then, a little later, she had no idea how long, she sat down on the music stool and gradually felt as if she came down from a great height to the ground that was still unstable beneath her feet.

  Later still, it might have been an hour or perhaps longer, she found her way to her bedroom.

  It never struck her for a moment that she should go to the ballroom.

  Her only instinct was to be alone, not to have to speak to anyone and not to lose the last ecstatic rapture that seemed still to envelop her like a golden cloud.

  Finally she had climbed into bed to thrill and thrill again to the memory of the Prince’s lips until reality became a dream and she fell asleep.

  When Charlotte had awakened her and told her what she and Shane intended to do, she knew at once that it was right.

  What she and the Prince felt for each other was only the extension of the first night when they had gazed at the icons together.

  Apparently this had only made him more determined than he had been before in his desire to marry Charlotte.

  She could not understand it, but then everything about the Prince seemed incomprehensible except for the fact that she loved him and, although he might deny it, some part of him loved her too.

  In that she could not be mistaken. It was as real as the fact that she breathed or that her heart beat. It was as real as Charl Castle itself and yet perhaps that was in a way only a mirage.

  Whatever it might be, it was over now, the Grand Opera when she had felt that she was playing a leading part and she had a few hours to adjust herself to being, as she had been before, the ‘help’ at the Vicarage.

  The early morning train that they had travelled on from Charl Halt to London had been what was known as the ‘Milk Train’ and did not even possess a First Class carriage.

  There was, however, a Second Class one, which was empty because there were few passengers at that time of the morning.

  It was a very different way to travel from the way that they had arrived in the Prince’s Private train, but Shane and Charlotte were concerned only with getting away.

  As they sat holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes, it would not have mattered what the train was like as long as it was moving.

  “The only danger,” Shane said, “is if your aunt learns that we have left and telegraphs the Station Master in London to detain us.”

  “Could she do that?” Charlotte enquired in a frightened voice,

  “I very much doubt it,” Shane replied, “but the first person who is likely to be informed is Mr. Brothwick and, if he is called at eight o’clock, that gives us more than two hours’ start. It is also unlikely that he will think it necessary to inform the Prince of what has occurred.”

  “Suppose the Prince rises early?” Charlotte enquired.

  “We were very late last night,” Shane replied. “Even so, by the time His Highness has told the servant
s to wake your aunt and she has given instructions to someone to send a telegram and it has been received in London and the Station Master has begun to look for us, we should be on a train that will take us to Holyhead.”

  “I could not – bear it if we – failed at the last moment,” Charlotte quavered in a small voice.

  “You will not,” Alana interposed. “You will both reach Ireland, I feel it in my bones.”

  She smiled at Shane as she added,

  “I told you that you had only to want something enough to make it possible to achieve it.”

  “I followed your instructions,” Shane replied, “so, whatever happens now, it will be your responsibility.”

  “I feel very proud and very happy that you have been brave enough to grasp at what you both really want in life.”

  “Of course we want each other,” Charlotte agreed, “we always have and we will never – never have any regrets.”

  “I could never possibly have any either, Charlotte, but I want to make sure that you feel the same.”

  “I am so – happy,” she said in a low voice, “that I want to dance and sing – at the same time, because it is so wonderful, I want to cry.”

  “My sweet,” Shane sighed and put out his hands towards her.

  After that they sat very close to each other, whispering, while Alana tactfully pretended to go to sleep.

  Now, alone, she wondered if she would ever see Charlotte and Shane again.

  The Viscount was a different matter.

  When they had said ‘goodbye’ in Charlotte’s bedroom and Shane had gone downstairs to order a carriage and find two footmen to carry down the luggage, the Viscount had held Alana’s hand in his and said,

  “You know I will be in touch with you as soon as it is possible to do so.”

  “You must be careful,” Alana advised him quickly.

  “I will be very careful for your sake, because whatever happens, no one at Brilling must realise that you have been involved in what will undoubtedly be a scandal when it is known that Charlotte has run away with Shane.”

  “I would love to hear, if it is possible, that they are married and happy.”

  “I will write to you,” the Viscount promised, “and somehow we must meet.”

  Alana shook her head.

  “That will be quite impossible.”

  “Nonsense,” he replied to her sharply. “You know I have every intention of seeing you again, but I really cannot just drive up to the Vicarage door and have the whole village chattering their heads off.”

  “No – of course not.”

  “I will think out a plan. Leave it to me, but we may have to wait for a little while.”

  “You must be very careful with letters too,” Alana warned. “The Postmistress always reads all the postcards everyone receives.”

  “I will write in a disguised hand and you had better invent a good number of your relatives who have quite suddenly become ardent correspondents.”

  “Please be careful,” Alana begged him again.

  “I shall be,” he answered, “and thank you so much for being so magnificent in doing everything we asked of you.”

  Charlotte, who had been talking to Shane, turned her head to say,

  “We can none of us be too grateful, Alana. It’s all due to you that I am not married to that horrible Prince and, as soon as we are no longer in hiding, I am going to ask you to come and stay with us at Derryfield.”

  “Of course,” Shane agreed.

  “Then I can meet you there,” the Viscount said with a smile, “if we have not managed it before.”

  There was a look in his eyes that said a great many things that could not be said in words, but Alana knew that she did not wish to hear them.

  All she wanted to think about was the Prince and yet to tell herself severely that everything that had happened with him was part of a Fairy story in which he was the leading character.

  Now she had to close the book and go back to a normal life as if nothing had ever happened.

  ‘At least I shall have something to remember,’ she ruminated, but somehow it was cold comfort.

  She reached Brilling at about teatime and, carrying the plain light carpet bag that she had left the Vicarage with, she asked a porter if there was anyone else travelling there.

  “’Tis no use askin’ me,” he replied in a surly tone. “You’d better go enquire outside the Station.”

  It was very different, Alana thought, from the way he would have replied had she been wearing the smart travelling gown and fur-lined cloak in which she had journeyed with Charlotte to Charl Castle

  Now she had on her own clothes and they commanded no respect and apparently at this moment not even friendliness.

  When in the waiting room at the Station she had changed from the clothes that she had left The Castle in, she could not, because she was a woman, help feeling a little pang of regret because her own clothes seemed so drab and dull in comparison with the elegance and luxury of those that she had borrowed.

  As if what she was thinking communicated itself to Charlotte, she said impulsively,

  “I should have given you some of my clothes, Alana, you looked so lovely in them. But I did not think of it and now it is too late to unpack anything.”

  “You will need them for yourself,” Alana replied, “and it is so important to keep every penny of the money Shane has won only for necessities.”

  “Yes, I know that,” Charlotte answered, “and I intend to be very very sensible. But one day I shall have my own money. Papa will not be able to keep me from having what really belongs to me, will he?”

  “No, of course not,” Alana agreed. “At the same time count the pennies! When one is poor, there are always extra expenses that one never expects.”

  Charlotte kissed her.

  “You are so wise,” she said, “and I shall miss you so much, even though I shall have my darling wonderful Shane with me.”

  “I shall miss you too,” Alana replied. “You have all thanked me, but really I have to thank you. I shall always remember you both and Charl Castle – ”

  She could not say it aloud, but her heart told her that the end of the sentence was,

  ‘– and for ever and Eternity and the Prince.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  Alana was bathing Billy in the flat tin bath that she had placed in front of the fire in the nursery after carrying two heavy cans of hot water upstairs from the range in the kitchen.

  She was late getting the children to bed because she had been on her own with them all day.

  The Vicar and Mrs. Bredon had taken Lionel, their eldest son, and gone to stay for the night with the Vicar’s mother at the other end of the County.

  “I hope you will be all right, Alana,” Mrs. Bredon said cheerfully before she left, “and I have asked Mrs. Hicks to sleep in.”

  “I shall be all right without Mrs. Hicks,” Alana responded quickly.

  “You could not stay alone here. That would be incorrect,” the Vicar’s wife replied reprovingly.

  Alana thought that she would have much preferred to be alone rather than have to cope with Mrs. Hicks, who was usually more trouble than she was worth.

  But she realised that Mrs. Bredon was thinking that the whole village would be shocked if she, an unmarried woman, was in the Vicarage at night without a chaperone and so she merely smiled and said,

  “Don’t worry. The children will be good with me as they always are. You enjoy yourself.”

  “It’ll be a change to get away,” Mrs. Bredon admitted a little wistfully, “but a family party can sometimes be overwhelming.”

  Alana wanted to say that she had no idea what a family party might be like, never having been to one.

  As if Mrs. Bredon recognised that she had been tactless, she merely kissed the children, told them they were to be good and went off with the Vicar.

  It was a cold rough day and after Alana had taken them all for a walk they roasted chestnuts over the fi
re and had hot buttered toast for tea.

  By bedtime they were all much quieter and ready, Alana thought, to go to sleep with the exception of Billy, who, having slept after luncheon, was still active and in high spirits,

  Alana found it easier therefore, to prepare the other three for bed first.

  The two eldest were at the age when they enjoyed reading or playing with their toys and, once she had insisted that they wash themselves and have their supper, they were quite happy to go to their room, which they shared with Lionel.

  That left her only with Eloise, whom she bathed first and who was now sitting in her blue wool dressing gown at the table eating bread and milk heavily laced with brown sugar.

  Billy, on the other hand, ran round and round the room naked before he could be caught and put into the bath.

  There he splashed about like a small dolphin and Alana was glad that she had a flannel apron over her gown.

  It was a plain gown that she had made herself, but in an attractive if serviceable green wool that made her skin very white and reflected in her eyes adding to the mystery of them.

  She had rolled up her sleeves above the elbow and was soaping Billy, while he made every effort to prevent her from doing so, when the door of the nursery opened.

  She thought that it must be Mrs. Hicks who had come upstairs with a long-winded story about some grievance or other that would not only take an inordinate amount of time to tell but there would inevitably be no answer for it.

  “Splash! Splash!” Billy was saying, suiting his actions to the words.

  “No more splashing,” Alana insisted firmly.

  She picked up a big sponge and squeezed it over him to wash away the soap and he put up his hands to try to catch the water, laughing as he did so.

  Alana too was laughing when she heard Eloise say,

  “Why are you here?” and turned her head.

  To her utter astonishment it was the Prince who stood there looking extremely elegant and very large and overwhelming in the low-ceilinged room.

  For a moment it was impossible for her to speak and impossible even to realise that he was actually there and she was not imagining him.