Bride to the King Read online

  “His Royal Highness told me to keep my mouth shut,” Gisela replied. “But if I was doing my duty I should report such goings-on when I get back to Lützelstein.”

  Because Gisela was really fond of her, Zosina knew that this was an idle threat.

  “You have never been a sneak, Gisela,” she said, “and, as you see, although I was late, I have come to no harm.”

  As she spoke, she knew it was no thanks to the King that she had not been knocked down or cut by the flying glass.

  She wondered if he had worried about her when she disappeared, but she had an uncomfortable feeling that by that time he was already too drunk to remember he had brought her to the ball.

  It was an inexpressible relief to learn that His Majesty was not to accompany them to the hospital, though Zosina was certain that, even if he had been expected to do so, he would have not felt well enough.

  She was, however, not quite sure how a man would feel after such a riotous night and she wondered whether, as the King had said, that he had left the Palace in such a surreptitious way dozens of times, a drunken riot was the inevitable end to his evenings out.

  As she thought over what had occurred, it seemed to her incredible that the King and his friends should wish to behave in such an aggressive manner and, there was no doubt about it, deliberately to start a fight.

  Recalling the sequence of events, she had the feeling that they had all behaved as if in accordance with a pre-arranged and familiar plan of action.

  She remembered reading somewhere that students in Munich were accustomed to rioting in their beer halls and perhaps this was the general behaviour amongst the young men of that age.

  If that was true, she was quite sure that their bullying tactics would be greatly resented by the quieter and better behaved members of the population.

  Supposing the people of Dórsia ever learned that it was their King who was one of the ringleaders of such a troublesome gang?

  The whole thing seemed to Zosina beyond her comprehension and, as she walked round the Convent smiling at the children, saying the right words to the nuns and praising everything she saw, one part of her mind was still preoccupied with what had happened last night and shocked by it.

  In the last ward there were babies who had just been born, but one was an orphan as it had lost its mother, who was an unmarried woman, at its birth.

  “How sad!” Zosina exclaimed, when she was told what had happened.

  “It is such a lovely baby, too, Your Royal Highness,” the nun said.

  She lifted it, as she spoke, out of its cot and held it out to Zosina, who took it in her arms.

  She looked down at its pretty face and wondered, as it was an orphan, what would happen to it in the future.

  “It will be all right,” the nun said, as if she read her thoughts. “We will get it adopted. There are always women who are childless and longing for a baby or others who, having a large family, do not mind having one more.”

  “I am glad it will not have to go into an orphanage,” Zosina commented.

  She remembered that she had once visited one with her mother and thought it was a cheerless place which lacked love.

  As she held the baby in her arms, she suddenly realised that part of her duties as a Queen would be to provide the throne with an heir.

  She loved children and she and her sisters always planned to have large families, but she had always thought that the man who would be the father would be her dream-man, the man she would love and who would love her.

  Now the idea of having a family with the King as the father was so horrifying that for a moment she could only stare blindly at the child in her arms, knowing that every instinct in her body shrank from the intimacy such an idea conjured up.

  She was very innocent and had no idea what actually happened when a man and woman were married, but she knew it would be something very secret between them.

  How, she asked herself, could she contemplate anything like that with the King?

  Last night when the Regent had kissed her and she felt as if she would be content to die with the happiness he gave her, she had known that anything he did would be sanctified because of their love.

  To have his child would be a rapture beyond words. But to have one with any other man, and especially the King, would be a degradation from which she shrank with every nerve in her body.

  ‘I cannot do it – I cannot!’ she told herself in a panic. She handed the baby back to the nun with a look on her face that made the elderly woman say quickly,

  “Does Your Royal Highness feel unwell? You look a little pale.”

  “I am all right, thank you,” Zosina replied. “It’s very hot today.”

  “That is true, Your Royal Highness.”

  The nun smiled and added,

  “I feel this baby has been especially blessed because Your Royal Highness has held it in your arms. As it is a little girl, would it be presumptuous of me to ask if it might bear Your Royal Highness’s name?”

  “I should be delighted!” Zosina replied.

  She gave one more look at the child and wondered if it would ever suffer as she was suffering, if it would ever have to sacrifice everything that was beautiful and perfect in life for the good of a country.

  Then, as the Queen Mother was waiting for her, she turned away, feeling as if she left the last tattered remnants of her dreams with the child who was to be named after her.

  They had a quiet family luncheon at the Palace which did not take long, because in the afternoon the Queen Mother was to open the Botanical Gardens which Zosina had learned had been laid out by the Regent.

  It was a new departure for the country and one which had brought Dórsia recognition from other countries, not only all over Europe but other parts of the world as well.

  Zosina learned that the Regent had written to each country in turn, asking for contributions in the way of plants and shrubs that would extend the knowledge of horticulture amongst the ordinary people.

  “In Britain they have Kew Gardens,” Zosina heard the Regent tell the Queen Mother, “and I was so impressed with what was being grown there and exported to other parts of the world that I thought we would try the same experiment here in Dórsia.”

  “It is a brilliant idea, Sándor,” the Queen Mother said, “but then your ideas are always original and progressive.”

  It was the kind of flattering remark the Queen Mother made to everybody, but Zosina knew that she was now speaking with a sincerity combined with an undeniable admiration.

  When they found the Regent waiting for them in one of the salons before luncheon, Zosina had at first been too shy to look at him.

  When she did so, she saw there were dark lines under his eyes and knew that, after she had left him, he had been unable to sleep.

  He appeared deliberately to avoid speaking to her before they went into the dining room, but, because the King was not present, he sat at the top of the table with the Queen Mother on his right and Zosina on his left.

  His self-control made him seem at ease and yet, because she was so closely attuned to him, Zosina knew he was as tense as she was and at the same time aware despairingly that time was passing and tomorrow her engagement to the King would be announced in Parliament.

  The idea seemed to hang like a dark menacing cloud over her head and even made the dining room and every other part of the Palace seem less attractive than it had before.

  Almost as if she could look into the future, she felt she could see the rooms in the Palace filled with the King’s vulgar friends and see the tasteful decorations changed to the kind of gaudy display that they admired.

  And nowhere in the picture could she see herself except, as she had felt last night, an outsider, neglected, forgotten or perhaps worse still, embroiled in the reprehensible behaviour of the young men and women with whom she had absolutely nothing in common.

  ‘I cannot do this – I cannot!’ Zosina told herself again.

  She thought that
even to please the Regent and gain his respect she could not go on with this farce which she knew would be the crucifixion of every ideal she had ever had.

  But somehow both she and the Regent behaved at luncheon as if everything was quite ordinary and they were in fact nothing more than the future bride of the King and his uncle.

  ‘Perhaps, as he can act so well, he does not feel what I am feeling,’ Zosina thought despairingly.

  She looked round unexpectedly to find the Regent’s eyes were on her and knew before he could look away that he was suffering as she was and his agony was that of a man who was drowning and had no idea how to save himself.

  From that moment some inner instinct and a desire to help the man she loved, made Zosina not try in any way to draw his attention to her own feelings.

  She knew without words that his love for her made him want to protect and comfort her and, because she loved him in the same manner, she would not add to his agony but try to alleviate it if possible.

  Nevertheless, every beat of her heart, every breath she drew, seemed to be saying over and over again,

  “I love you! I adore you!”

  She almost felt as if the clock on the mantelshelf ticked the same words and the murmur of the voices at the table repeated and repeated them until Zosina was almost afraid that she herself was saying them aloud.

  At last the meal was finished and she and the Queen Mother put on their bonnets, collected their gloves and sunshades, then went downstairs again to where the carriages were waiting.

  For the first time the Queen Mother seemed to be aware that there was no sign of the King.

  “Is not Gyórgy coming with us?” she asked the Regent. “No.”

  “Why not? It is on our programme that he is to make a speech at the opening of the gardens.”

  “I know,” the Regent replied, “but he has cried off.”

  “Why do you let him?” the Queen Mother asked sharply. “I should think the people will think it very strange he should not be there when these Gardens, thanks to you, already have a worldwide reputation.”

  The Regent lowered his voice so that those who were to accompany them could not hear what he said.

  “Gyórgy says that, as this is his last day of freedom, he intends to spend it as he wishes.”

  For a moment the Queen Mother did not understand. Then she said,

  “You mean because the engagement is being announced tomorrow? Most men don’t have their stag party until just before the wedding.”

  “I told him that,” the Regent replied, “but he was adamant that his time is his own until tomorrow morning.” The Queen Mother gave a little shrug of her shoulders.

  “Oh, well, we must just make do without him, but I shall tell him I think it is very rude not only to me, but to you, Sándor.”

  Zosina could not help thinking that it would not worry the King in the least. If he could be rude or obstructive to his uncle, he would be only too pleased.

  She could understand that the Queen Mother was perturbed because she thought that the foreign representatives who would be present would undoubtedly report the King’s absence.

  She wondered why the Regent had not forced the King to put in an appearance. Then it struck her that perhaps the excesses of last night were still affecting him and making it impossible for him to come with them to the Botanical Gardens.

  Anyway it was too late to do anything but get into the carriages and now in the King’s absence Zosina sat beside the Queen Mother on the back seat, while the Regent sat opposite them.

  The Ladies-in-Waiting and Court officials came behind in three carriages and Zosina learned on the way that they were to be received, not only by those who were concerned with the Gardens, but also by the Prime Minister and the Ambassadors of every country which had contributed plants and shrubs to it.

  She had already seen that the flowers in Dórsia were particularly beautiful, but she was not prepared for what could be done with them when they were cultivated by experts.

  The Alpine Section was particularly beautiful, but in the huge glasshouses that had been erected for the more exotic plants, she saw orchids from the Far East and azaleas from the Himalayas.

  Just for one moment did the Regent come to her side when they were in the Orchid House.

  She felt a little quiver run through her before he spoke and she knew, as she looked at him, that he felt the same.

  “You look like a flower yourself,” he said in a low voice. She felt as if time stood still as everything vanished except for him and the expression in his eyes.

  It was impossible to reply, impossible to find words to tell him of her love.

  She knew, before he turned away to speak conventionally to the wife of a Mayor, that for the passing of one second she had been close to him, as if he had held her in his arms.

  ‘We belong – we still – belong,’ she told herself and tried to understand what one of the horticulturists was telling her, but for all the sense he was making, he might have been speaking Hindustani.

  The Botanical Gardens were beautiful and a delight to the senses, but to Zosina they contained only one person, she could see nothing but the Regent, hear nothing but his voice.

  As they drove back, she thought the day was nearly over. Tomorrow he would leave Dórsia and perhaps she would never see him again.

  The King had said that he would get rid of him as soon as he came of age and the Regent himself had said that he would not be present at her wedding.

  ‘Where – will you be? How shall I find you? How can I – live without – you?’ Zosina wanted to cry out, but her training and self-control stopped her.

  She curtseyed to him when they reached the Palace and walked up the stairs behind the Queen Mother without looking back to see if he was watching her.

  She thought that either the King or the Regent was bound to be present at the dinner party that was being given for them by the Members of the Order of St. Miklos.

  But when she and the Queen Mother descended the stairs again at a quarter-past seven there was nobody waiting for them in the hall except a Lady-in-Waiting and the Lord Chamberlain.

  “Surely His Majesty is coming with us?” the Queen Mother asked.

  “His Majesty sends his regrets, ma’am, but Prince Vladislav is your host tonight and His Royal Highness the Regent will meet you at the Prince’s house,” the Lord Chamberlain explained.

  The Queen Mother raised her eyebrows but said nothing and only when they were driving off in the closed carriage, did she say almost as if she spoke to herself,

  “I find His Majesty’s behaviour incomprehensible. Prince Vladislav, as I am well aware, is a great landowner and one of the most important Noblemen in Dórsia. I only hope he will not be offended that the King is not present on such an auspicious occasion.”

  “I am sure that His Royal Highness will make His Majesty’s excuses very eloquently,” the Lord Chamberlain replied.

  He was an elderly man who Zosina had already learned had been at the Palace for many years and in attendance on the previous Monarch.

  The Queen Mother smiled as if to take the sting out of her words as she said,

  “When the Prince Regent retires, you will have your hands full.”

  The Lord Chamberlain shook his head.

  “I too am retiring, ma’am, as are most of my colleagues.” “Retiring!” the Queen Mother exclaimed. “Is that wise?” “It is wise from our point of view,” the Lord Chamberlain replied, “to leave before we are dismissed.”

  The Queen Mother looked shocked, but Zosina thought that she was actually aware of the King’s intention to have his own friends about him.

  She could only think once again in horror of the chaos they would create everywhere.

  The outside of Prince Vladislav’s house was almost as magnificent as that of the Palace, but inside it was a conglomeration of good and bad taste, ancient and modern.

  It was, however, difficult for Zosina to notice anything becau
se, as they entered the huge reception room already crowded with guests, she saw the Regent standing beside their host and her heart turned over in her breast.

  If he had looked breath-taking on other occasions, she thought now that he looked like a Mediaeval Knight, wearing the uniform of the order and a wide blue ribbon across his heart, from which hung the decoration of St. Miklos that was worn by all the other men in the room.

  But none of them were as handsome or outstanding as the Regent.

  Zosina only hoped, as she walked behind the Queen Mother, that she looked like the flower with which he identified her.

  She had taken a great deal of trouble in choosing her gown with this in mind and it was of a very pale leaf green tulle decorated with bunches of snowdrops.

  The same flowers were arranged in a wreath on her hair instead of the flower tiara she had worn on other occasions.

  She looked very young, very innocent and very pure, but she did not know that to the Regent it was like being struck by a thousand knives to see her eyes looking shyly at him and know that he could never again hold her in his arms or touch her.

  The dinner was superlative, the company intelligent and amusing, the speeches very short.

  Afterwards there was soft music as a background to the conversation and it was with a sincere feeling of regret that at eleven o’clock the Queen Mother rose to leave.

  “This evening,” Zosina heard her say to the Prince, “has been more enjoyable than any other. I can only thank Your Highness for a most delightful time and I know my granddaughter has enjoyed it as much as I have.”

  “It was a great privilege to have you here, ma’am,” the Prince replied, “and may I beg that for the Princess this will be the first of many such visits.”

  “I hope so, Your Highness,” Zosina replied.

  She could not help knowing that the King would think the Prince’s hospitality dull and boring. She was also sure that he would, as he had tonight, refuse his invitations if it was possible to do so.

  Zosina wanted to ask the Regent what she should do in such circumstances.

  Should she be strong-minded enough to go without the King or would she just agree to confine herself to being his wife and associate only with the people who amused him?