The Proud Princess Read online

  She remembered what a steep climb it was up the stone steps, and she had been right in assuring the Count that the passage which had lasted for centuries would not have changed in the last nine years.

  It smelt dry and dusty and occasionally there were cobwebs which broke against Ilona’s hair, but otherwise they had no difficulty in reaching the door which led into the Palace.

  Here the Captain paused.

  “We dare not go any further, Ma’am.”

  “What I suggest,” Ilona replied, “is that you go and explore. Find out what is happening. Then if it is safe, come back and collect me.”

  “I will leave the lantern with you, Ma’am.”

  “If we had had any sense we would have brought two with us,” Ilona answered. “As it is, you must take it with you, otherwise you will never find the way. I will sit here in the darkness. I am not afraid.”

  “You are quite sure? I ought not to leave you.”

  “You must leave me,” Ilona answered, “or else I shall have to stay here indefinitely, and if the Prince leaves the Palace by the front entrance, he might even forget about us.”

  “I am sure he would not do that!” the Captain answered.

  Ilona knew that he must be aching to find out what was happening, and she realised that it had in fact been very frustrating for him not to be able to join his comrades in their enterprise.

  “Go along, Captain,” she said, “and try not to forget that I am waiting here for your return.”

  “I will certainly not do that, Ma’am.”

  He moved through the door carrying the lantern in his hand, and Ilona sat down on the ground.

  She saw the light flickering in the distance until it was little more than a will o’ the wisp, then there was only darkness.

  Of one thing she was certain - there had been no pitched battle!

  Thick though the Palace walls were and despite the fact that they had entered through a very different part of the building, she was sure that if there had been pistol or rifle shots, they would have heard them.

  The guns which were to bombard Vitózi had certainly not been fired.

  It seemed to Ilona, sitting in the darkness, that a century of time passed before she heard footsteps approaching on the stone floor and then saw the light of a lantern.

  She was standing waiting when the Captain rejoined her.

  “Everything is all right, Ma’am,” he said.

  She realised he was no longer speaking in a whisper, but in quite a loud tone because he was excited.

  “The Prince and our men took the Russians entirely by surprise! They were all asleep, Ma’am, if you can believe it, and only the sentries were on duty, looking out of the Palace in the other direction. They surrendered without a shot being fired!”

  Ilona felt the fear which had made every breath she drew an inescapable pain subsiding.

  “And the Prince?” she asked.

  “He has gone with the rest of the troops to join our men at the Pass. He has taken with him the Russians who were captured in the Palace as prisoners, but he intends not to keep them in Dabrozka, but to put them over the border into their own land.”

  “And – the King?” Ilona asked in a low voice.

  “His Majesty has gone with them!”

  Ilona gave a sigh of relief.

  She had been afraid, although she had not admitted it to herself, of facing her father.

  “Who is left in the Palace?” she asked.

  “Only the servants, Ma’am. I have told them you are here, and they are preparing your room so that you can rest until the Prince returns.”

  “Thank you, Captain Gayozy.”

  He led Ilona through the cold, uninviting corridors until they reached the part of the Palace that was lived in.

  Even then there was a long walk to the State Apartments which she had used before her marriage.

  When she reached them there were servants, hurriedly dressed, smiling a welcome.

  Ilona paused in the Hall.

  “I have a feeling, Captain Gayozy, that now you have fulfilled your duty to me you would wish to join His Majesty and your comrades.”

  She saw the delight in the young man’s eyes.

  “Do you think I could do that, Ma’am?”

  “I am sure they will not be very far ahead, and you can catch them up,” she answered. “I shall be quite safe in the Palace.”

  “You are adequately guarded, Ma’am. There are sentries on duty on the roof, on the battlements and outside the front door!”

  Ilona smiled.

  “They certainly did not expect us to enter the way we did!”

  “From all I heard from the officers to whom I spoke, the Russians thought we must have dropped from the sky!”

  Ilona laughed.

  “Does the Prince know I am here?” she enquired.

  Captain Gayozy looked a little embarrassed.

  “He was very busy, Ma’am. I thought it best not to trouble him at the moment. They were just leaving when I learnt what had happened.”

  “You were quite right not to tell His Highness,” Ilona said. “It would only worry him. When everything is quiet and peaceful, you can tell him I am here at the Palace. I shall sleep in my own bed. Good-night, Captain.”

  The Captain drew himself up to attention and saluted. “Good-night, Ma’am, and may I tell you how wonderful you have been?”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Ilona replied.

  She went to her room where the housekeeper and two of the housemaids were waiting to attend to her.

  As she undressed they chattered away excitedly, telling her how frightened they had been when the Russians arrived at the Palace and how unpleasant and rude the soldiers were!

  “And greedy, Your Royal Highness! You wouldn’t believe what they ate! If they’d stayed any longer we’d have been eaten out of house and home!”

  “They will not trouble us again,” Ilona smiled.

  “But – His Majesty –?” one of the maids murmured. Ilona did not answer. The girl was asking the same question she had been asking herself.

  What would the King do when he reached Russia? Would he incite them to make another effort to capture Dabrozka?

  Would he invite them to invade the country, even without the excuse of restoring order in a Civil War?

  It was frightening to contemplate and suddenly Ilona felt very tired.

  The Housekeeper had found her a nightgown, and as she got into bed the woman said,

  “You will have a gown to wear to-morrow, Your Royal Highness. Quite a number of boxes have arrived from Paris containing garments that you must have ordered.”

  “Of course!” Ilona exclaimed. “I had arranged for them to be sent after me.”

  “His Majesty forbade us to have then conveyed to the Castle, Your Royal Highness,” the Housekeeper explained. “But as I was sure you would not wish them to be creased, I hung them up in the wardrobe. They are there waiting for you.”

  “Thank you,” Ilona said sleepily.

  She was so tired that her eye-lids were dropping even as she spoke.

  It had been a long ride, and so much else had happened during the day, which had all been exhausting.

  First she had been kidnapped by the Zyghes, then there was her rescue by the Prince when he had lifted her bodily from the saddle, and the fear she had felt when she learnt that the Russians were actually in the Palace, intending to bombard Vitózi!

  It had all taken its toll of her strength!

  When she was alone she remembered too the passionate emotions she had felt the previous evening, and the jealousy which had kept her tossing and turning all night, and prevented her from sleeping.

  “I will not think about the gypsy,” she told herself.

  Deliberately she sent her thought back to the moment when the Prince had held her in his arms and she had heard his heart beating as her cheek lay against his shoulder.

  She tried to imagine that she was still with him and could
feel again that sense of safety and protection because he was close.

  “I love –him! I love him with my – heart and – soul,” Ilona whispered.

  She fell asleep as she was pretending that once again she was in his arms.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Ilona awoke because someone was pulling back the curtains.

  She felt drowsy with sleep, then suddenly she remembered where she was and what had brought her there.

  She sat up in bed and saw that the Housekeeper was bringing in a tray to set down beside her.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  “It is well after noon, Your Royal Highness, but I let you sleep on, seeing how tired you were.”

  “As late as that?” Ilona exclaimed. “Then what has happened?”

  “Most of the troops have returned. They are celebrating a victory!”

  “There was fighting?”

  “Very little, I think, Your Royal Highness. His Highness is safe. He came back some hours ago. He had a short rest, and now I believe he is outside the Palace with the troops.”

  Ilona was silent for a moment. Then she asked in a very low voice,

  “Did – His Highness enquire – after me?”

  “No, Your Royal Highness.”

  There seemed to be nothing more to say and Ilona ate some of the food that had been brought to her without tasting it. Then having had a bath, she started to dress.

  She thought as she did so that it was typical of her relationship with her husband that now she was of no further use to him he had no interest in her.

  Last night he had spoken to her as if she was a human being instead of someone he hated, and she had thought when he had taken her hand to lead her as they walked towards the Palace that he was no longer as cold as he had been ever since they were married.

  But it seemed now she had been mistaken.

  Now that all the excitement was over, their relationship was back on its previous unhappy footing.

  Ilona felt so depressed that she let the Housekeeper dress her in one of her new gowns which had come from Paris, without even noticing what she wore.

  It was pale blue, trimmed with white lace and she vaguely remembered buying it but felt no particular interest in it. When she was ready she left her bedroom and walked along the corridor which led to the top of the stairs.

  Down in the Great Hall there were officers in small groups talking to each other, and she could see through the open door and the tall windows that there were troops outside in the court-yard.

  Then as she looked at them, expecting to see the Prince, she suddenly stiffened.

  Coming up the drive towards the Palace was a bunch of colourful gypsies.

  There was no mistaking the full skirts of the women, the red coat of the Voivode, and the other gypsies with their bright sashes and silk handkerchiefs tied over their dark heads.

  With an exclamation beneath her breath Ilona turned away, feeling the same stabbing pain in her heart which she had endured the night the Prince had danced with Mautya.

  The gypsy dancer had certainly wasted no time in crossing the river and following the Prince.

  ‘Perhaps he sent a message for her to join him,’ Ilona thought to herself.

  He needed his mistress in his hour of triumph but not the company of his wife.

  She walked down the corridor not thinking where she was going, only wanting to be rid of the sight of the gypsies.

  She could see all too vividly the beautiful face of the dancer with her enticing dark slanting eyes and her red, inviting mouth.

  Then Ilona decided to visit the rooms which Julius had occupied, thinking, as she had thought last night that it was actually her brother who had been instrumental in saving Dabrozka from the Russians.

  If Julius had not determined to creep out at night against the King’s wishes, if she had not been his accomplice, then at this very moment the Russian shells would be bursting over Vitózi.

  She thought how much Julius would have enjoyed the excitement of taking the Russians unawares, but it was the Prince who had carried out the whole operation so brilliantly that there had been no bloodshed.

  She stopped in the corridor realising that she had reached not Julius’s room but the Nursery which she had occupied until the day she had left the Castle with her mother eight years ago.

  She opened the door and found it was exactly as she had left it.

  There was the big arm-chair by the tiled stove where she had sat with her mother and listened to the fairy-stories which had entranced her.

  There was her rocking-horse which she had loved passionately until when she was four years old she had been allowed to ride a pony, and found it an enchantment which had made all her other toys fade into insignificance.

  But she had never thrown them away and there was still the dolls’-house which had been specially made for her by the citizens of Vittózi to resemble the Palace in miniature

  And there was the fort which they had presented to Julius when he was a small boy.

  Both models were exquisitely carved and decorated by Dabrozkan craftsmen with their inimitable skill.

  Ilona walked across the room to touch the dolls’-house. Standing near it she saw the painted cupboard in which she had been made to tidy away her smaller toys before she was taken to bed.

  She opened the door of the cupboard and saw lying on one of the shelves the first doll she had ever owned and which she had loved more than all the others.

  It had fair hair and blue eyes and her mother had spent many hours stitching beautiful lace-trimmed clothes in which Ilona dressed and undressed her favourite.

  She picked it up, then made an exclamation of distress, for the face was smashed!

  There was a great crack across the small pink and white nose and a piece of porcelain was missing from one rosy cheek.

  Ilona stared down at it, and somehow finding that her doll was broken was the final straw in the misery which had been accumulating in her ever since she awoke.

  It was as if the broken face told her all too clearly that her own life was broken while the beauty of it was destroyed.

  She held the doll for a moment in her hands, then enfolding it against her breast she began to cry.

  At first the tears ran down her cheeks slowly like the snows in the mountains beginning to melt, then they became a tempest!

  All the misery, unhappiness and loneliness she had felt ever since her wedding-day seemed to flood over her in an agony that was unbearable.

  She sank down onto the floor, and still cuddling the doll in her arms bent her head and wept so that her whole body shook.

  She did not hear the door open until suddenly a voice said,

  “I have been looking for you..”

  Ilona did not raise her head.

  She was past caring who saw her. She had no pride left. It had collapsed to the point where she was oblivious of everything but her own despair.

  “What has happened? Why are you crying?” the Prince asked.

  Then as Ilona did not answer he said insistently,

  “What has upset you? I never imagined you could cry, like this!”

  She heard his voice and somehow knew that she must answer him.

  “I – c – cannot – help it,” she sobbed. “I am so – alone – so miserable – Y – you – hate me and all I want is to – die!”

  “Hate you?” the Prince repeated in a strange voice.

  Then he bent down and pulled her to her feet.

  Ilona reacted automatically to the pressure of his hands.

  She could hardly realise he was there. She was too encompassed with the dark cloud of her own unhappiness to realise fully what was happening.

  “Y – you – have everything!” she sobbed. “The p – people love you and you have the – gypsy – she has come – here to you – but I am – alone – un – wanted – I have not – even a – baby to love.”

  “My absurd, foolish little Princess,” the Prince sa
id in his deep voice.

  Then he picked her up and sat down in the arm-chair cradling her in his arms.

  Ilona felt a tremor run through her because she was close to him, but she could not control the torrent of her tears and she went on crying against his shoulder.

  “It has all been a dreadful misunderstanding,” the Prince said quietly. “Stop crying, my darling, and I will try to explain what has happened.”

  Ilona raised her face. The tears were running down her cheeks, but her eves looked up into his.

  “W – what – did you – call me?” she whispered.

  “I called you my darling,” he answered, “which you have been since the first moment I saw you.”

  “It is – not true!”

  He pulled her closer to him and kissed first her wet eyes, then the tears on her cheeks and lastly her mouth.

  As Ilona felt his lips again and the hard possessive pressure of them which she had never forgotten, she felt as if a streak of lightning shot through her body.

  The fire that had burnt so fiercely within her when she had watched him dancing with the gypsy rose now in a thousand flickering flames, burning through her from the very tips of her toes to her lips which he held captive.

  This was what she had longed for, what she had known she would feel if he kissed her again, what she had missed and what she thought she would never know.

  He kissed her fiercely, possessively, and yet at the same time there was a tenderness which she could not describe, although she knew it was there.

  When finally he raised his head to look down at her, her eyes were shining like stars, her mouth was very soft and trembling.

  “I – thought you – hated me,” she said and her voice was a little hoarse, although there was an irrepressible lilt in it.

  “I love you!”

  “B – but you were – so cold – so cruel,” she whispered. “You came to my room and you never even – looked at me!”

  The Prince drew her a little closer.

  “If I had allowed myself to do so, I could never have refrained from kissing you and making you mine, but I thought that your father was speaking for you when he said that you loathed me.”

  “How could – you have – thought that?”