A Royal Rebuke Read online

  Her lips tightened before she added,

  “I am led to understand that Russia is becoming more and more menacing in the Balkans and we must do our best to keep them within their own boundaries.”

  “Yes, of course, ma’am,” Lord Victor agreed. “I will make it clear that if Zararis is under the protection of the British flag, it is a matter of ‘hands off!’ There must be no question of the Russians inciting the Zararians into rebellion.”

  He was well aware that this had already happened in a number of Balkan States and the British Government had been extremely perturbed about the situation.

  There had been discussions in Parliament and British Battleships had been sent to the Aegean Sea as a warning to the Russians not to go too far.

  “I will see you on your return, dear Victor,” the Queen said.

  Lord Victor knew that he was dismissed and he therefore kissed her hand and again her cheek before he backed out of the room.

  He thought as he found himself outside that at least he had managed to hold his own.

  Yet he was aware that the Queen must think that she had taught him a lesson he would not forget in a hurry.

  She knew perfectly well what it meant to him to be despatched to Zararis in May.

  He would miss the balls and parties that took place every day during the Season.

  He would also miss the polo at which he excelled, the racing at Royal Ascot, which took place in the second week of June and a great number of other amusements.

  He had already accepted dozens of invitations.

  And he wondered as he left Windsor Castle whether he could plead illness.

  Perhaps a miracle or a lucky accident might save him at the last minute! And then perhaps H.M.S. Victorious would sail without him.

  He knew, however, that if he really defied the Queen it would be something she would never forgive, or forget.

  The only thing he could do was to pretend that her rebuke and intended punishment was something he in fact enjoyed.

  He would have to deceive not only her, but also his friends and that was going to be the most difficult task.

  He was well aware they all knew that to escort some unimportant and unfledged, half-witted young Royalty to the altar would be boring beyond words.

  None of the younger members of White’s Club would find it anything but a yawn.

  ‘I am damned if I will have them laughing at me!’ Lord Victor told himself.

  All the same, he had no one to blame but himself and, of course, the unmistakable allurement of Nancy Weldon.

  As he drove towards London, he reflected that he would miss the new pair of horses he was driving in his chaise.

  They had been expensive, but he thought they were undoubtedly worth what he had paid for them.

  At the same time, it meant that he had to economise on other expenditure.

  As a third son, his allowance was comparatively small, as it was usual in great families that everything was concentrated on the oldest son who would eventually succeed to the Peerage.

  This had never particularly worried Lord Victor.

  Yet he sometimes asked himself how, unless he married an heiress, he would ever be able to support a family in the lifestyle he had become accustomed to.

  He had meant when he left Oxford University to go into the Household Cavalry.

  Although they would have welcomed him there because it was the family Regiment, it would have been costly even for a Subaltern.

  Lord Victor therefore just availed himself of Droxbrooke House in Park Lane and spent his time doing what he enjoyed most.

  He played polo and was in demand by some of the best teams in the land.

  He enjoyed a game of squash almost every day because it kept him fit and healthy.

  He rode his own horses and those of his friends, both in London and in the country.

  It was inevitable that he should find that women hunted him even more effectively than he hunted a fox with the best packs during the winter.

  No one could pretend that all this was not extremely enjoyable.

  In fact he had until now found his life a ‘bed of roses’.

  It was typical of the Queen, he thought, to know that he would hate leaving London when it was at its most amusing for any unattached young gentleman and yet he was determined that no one should know that he was put out by Her Majesty’s command.

  He would also pretend on his return that the whole journey had been an exciting adventure.

  It did not take him long to reach London from Windsor and he went straight to White’s.

  As he walked into the morning room of the Club, he found, as he expected, that several of his friends were there.

  “Where have you been?” one of them asked.

  “To Windsor Castle,” Lord Victor replied.

  “Good Lord! What for? I thought you were there only last week!”

  “I was,” Lord Victor agreed.

  He seated himself in one of the leather armchairs before he added,

  “Her Majesty felt compelled to see me again!”

  There was just a touch of laughter about his voice and one of his closest friends remarked,

  “You are up to something, Victor! What did the Queen want you for?”

  “You will hardly believe it,” Lord Victor replied, “but I am to go to Zararis! It really is one of the most exciting things that has happened to me for a long time!”

  Another man who was listening enquired,

  “Where the hell is Zararis? What do you do there?”

  Lord Victor lowered his voice.

  “This is confidential,” he said, lowering his voice, “and, of course, you must not repeat it to a soul, but actually I will be on a secret mission!”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Lord Victor was asked to be at 10 Downing Street at ten o’clock promptly.

  He drove there in his chaise and he was thinking that once again he felt like a troublesome pupil going to the Headmaster’s study.

  He was, however, a great admirer of the Marquis of Salisbury, who had been for many years the dominating influence in British Foreign Policy.

  Lord Victor knew, from what he had heard and read, that the Marquis, as a younger Statesman, had been a brilliant administrator at the India Office and he was aware that in particular he was an authority on Russian affairs and the Eastern question.

  When Foreign Secretary he had played a most influential part in the Congress of Berlin ten years ago.

  This, Lord Victor realised, linked up with what the Queen had said about Russia.

  He wished now that he had been older when there had been an international crisis which had been caused by the Grand Duke Nicholas’s march towards Constantinople.

  The Russian Army was deterred from storming the City only by the intervention of Britain in sending the Royal Navy up the Dardanelles.

  ‘If I am to keep up my pretence that I am on a secret mission,’ Lord Victor told himself, ‘I shall have to mug up my knowledge of the political situation in the Balkans.’

  However, he appeared carefree and in high spirits when he arrived at Downing Street.

  He was shown into the Marquis of Salisbury’s office, who rose to his feet and held out his hand.

  “It is nice to see you, Victor,” he said in his deep voice. “And I trust that your father is well?”

  “He is well enough when he is at home,” Lord Victor replied, “but he resents having to come to London and prefers to stay in the country.”

  “I can understand his feelings,” the Marquis smiled. “Do please sit down.”

  Lord Victor settled himself in the chair on the other side of the Marquis’s desk.

  He thought that the Statesman was beginning to look his fifty-eight years, but at the same time his appearance was very distinguished and the hair above his high intelligent forehead was going grey and the same applied to his short beard.

  The Marquis cleared his throat.

  “Her Majesty has
told me, rather surprisingly, if you will forgive me for saying so, that she is sending you to Zararis with the prospective Queen.”

  “The Queen informed me,” Lord Victor answered, “that I am to go to the wedding and see that the Union Jack is flying high over Zararis.”

  He spoke mockingly.

  The Marquis did not reply, and after a moment Lord Victor added,

  “I will be frank with you, my Lord. I have no idea where Zararis is, or why, apart from the fact that they want our protection, it is of any material significance.”

  “That is what I will tell you,” the Marquis of Salisbury said, “because, Victor, Zararis is extremely important at this moment.”

  Lord Victor raised his eyebrows and the Marquis explained as if he was teaching a reluctant pupil,

  “Zararis lies on the Aegean coast between Macedonia and Eastern Rumelia, which three years ago voted for incorporation into Bulgaria as its Southern Province.”

  “Now my geography is coming back to me,” Lord Victor said. “I remember, unless I am mistaken, that this region is at the top of the Aegean Sea.”

  “That is right,” the Marquis agreed, “and, although it is only a small country, it is absolutely essential at the moment to keep it independent and out of Russian hands.”

  He saw from the expression on Lord Victor’s face that he did not quite understand why and he went on,

  “When Alexander III, the present Czar, came to the throne seven years ago, he burned with indignation that Russia had failed in what he believed to be her destiny to dominate the Balkans and gain control of the Straits of Bosphorus.”

  He glanced at Lord Victor and added,

  “You realise that this would have given him access to the Mediterranean?”

  “Yes, of course,” Lord Victor agreed hastily.

  “The Czar was also determined to establish subservient Governments in Serbia and Greece.”

  “Does he still want that?” Lord Victor asked. “He must realise that he cannot afford another war!”

  He was remembering what somebody had told him.

  On the failure of Russia’s effort towards the conquest of Constantinople, Prince Gorchakov had said bitterly,

  “We have sacrificed one hundred thousand picked soldiers and hundreds of millions of money for nothing!”

  “Alexander has been wise enough,” the Marquis went on, “to keep his troops at home, which has made some foolish Statesmen in Europe refer to him as ‘the Czar Peacemaker’!”

  “I suppose he is nothing of the sort,” Lord Victor commented.

  The Marquis sighed.

  “He is waging one of the strangest wars in history.”

  “How?” Lord Victor asked.

  “His Foreign Minister, de Giers,” the Marquis explained, “has planted Russian spies all over the Balkans to act as agents in stirring up trouble in the established regimes.”

  Lord Victor sat up in his chair.

  This was something he had certainly not heard before.

  “Russian undercover men,” the Prime Minister went on, “disguised as icon sellers, wander through Serbia setting up subversive cells.”

  “I can hardly believe it!” Lord Victor exclaimed.

  “It is true,” the Marquis answered, “and the Russian Embassy officials pay crowds to stage riots.”

  “Is anyone aware of this?” Lord Victor asked.

  “I am aware of it,” the Marquis replied, “and I can only pray that things will not go too far or we shall have to intervene.”

  He looked down at his desk before he continued,

  “I have only today learnt that Russian Army Officers in the Eastern Rumelian section of Bulgaria have opened gymnasiums where they drill boys and girls in guerrilla warfare.”

  Because it seemed so inconceivable, Lord Victor was silent.

  Then the Marquis went on,

  “I am telling you this, Victor, entirely confidentially because I need your help.”

  Lord Victor just stared at him and the Marquis carried on slowly,

  “I have been wanting for some time to get an entirely unbiased report from Zararis on what is happening in that country and, of course, the larger countries around it. But it has not been easy because, to be frank, the Zararian Officials themselves are old and I have a feeling that like ostriches they bury their heads in the sand.”

  “I will naturally find out all I can,” Lord Victor said at once, “but I had hoped not to stay long.”

  The Prime Minister’s eyes twinkled.

  “I thought that Her Majesty must have some reason for appointing you when I had already arranged for Lord Ludlow to escort the Princess. It is something he has undertaken on similar occasions.”

  “To tell you the truth,” Lord Victor said, “Her Majesty is not very pleased with me at the moment. I am therefore being sent abroad at a time when it is personally extremely inconvenient for me.”

  “I thought that might be the explanation,” the Marquis said. “I have known you, Victor, ever since you were a small boy and I think that you have been wasting your brains the last few years. I remember your father telling me how well you had done at Eton and that you came down from Oxford with a First.”

  “You flatter me,” Lord Victor said, “but nobody since then has been particularly interested in my brain.”

  The Marquis laughed.

  “That is exactly what I imagined and very beautiful women do not provide the right stimulus for that part of your anatomy!”

  He looked down again at the notes on his desk and added,

  “Now, seriously, I want you to use your brain while appearing to those with whom you travel and whom you meet in Zararis to be no more than an escort and companion to the Princess.”

  Lord Victor was thinking that this was all most extraordinary!

  Just to impress his friends and prevent them from laughing at him, he had invented the idea of a secret mission.

  Now apparently he was actually to undertake one.

  As if the Marquis was following his thoughts, he said,

  “I will give you what particulars I have of what is happening in Zararis. I want you to read them carefully, Victor, commit them to memory and destroy the papers when you have done so.”

  “This is really cloak and dagger drama!” Lord Victor remarked.

  “Let me assure you, my dear boy, it is actually very serious. One unwary step, any inkling you afford to the Russians of what you are about, might quite easily end in an ‘unfortunate accident’.”

  “Now you are frightening me!” Lord Victor protested. “At the same time, I am intrigued.”

  “I thought you would be,” the Marquis answered. “And now let me tell you what is ostensibly your duty, unless Her Majesty has already done so.”

  “She told me that you would supply all the details and merely informed me that I was to escort a young woman I have never heard of to marry King Stephan.”

  “That is right,” the Marquis answered. “Princess Sydella is the daughter of Prince Alexis of Troilus.”

  He realised that Lord Victor was looking blank and explained,

  “Troilus is a Greek island that had its own Principality since the liberation of Greece and the Aegean from Turkish rule. Then there was not exactly a Revolution but a takeover by a party that was anti-Royal. Prince Alexis escaped to England with his life.”

  Lord Victor was listening intently and the Marquis went on,

  “He was an exceedingly good-looking and charming man and, although he had no money and no prospects, he fell madly in love with the daughter of the Duke of Hauchester.”

  “Who, of course, was English,” Lord Victor remarked, “but not Royal.”

  “On the contrary,” the Marquis answered, “she had a distant relationship to Her Majesty through her mother. The Duchess was a relative of the Duke of Cambridge, uncle to the Queen.”

  He paused before he added,

  “Her Majesty is Godmother to the Princess Sydella, just as she is Go
dmother to you.”

  “Well, that is one thing we have in common,” Lord Victor observed with a cynical note in his voice.

  He was thinking that however exciting things might be when they arrived in Zararis, the voyage would undoubtedly be as boring as he expected.

  “Prince Alexis was killed out hunting five years ago,” the Marquis was saying, “and Princess Louise has lived very quietly since his death in a small house on her father’s estate. As you are aware, the Hauchesters live in Northumberland and I doubt if the Princess has ever been to London.”

  Lord Victor wondered, in that case, what they would have to talk about.

  The Marquis continued,

  “I know that Her Majesty has found it very hard to find an answer to King Stephan’s plea for an English wife. In fact the only young woman available at this particular moment is Princess Sydella.”

  The way he spoke made Lord Victor realise that he was sorry for the Princess.

  He therefore somewhat belatedly asked,

  “How old is King Stephan?”

  “Getting on for sixty, if not older,” the Marquis answered.

  “And the Princess?”

  “She is just eighteen.”

  For a moment Lord Victor did not speak.

  Then he said,

  “Yet Her Majesty thinks that it will be a suitable marriage? Quite frankly, I find the idea repulsive!”

  The Marquis sat back in his chair.

  “I agree with you, Victor, but you know as well as I do that they are merely pawns in the game. The disparity in their ages, of course, makes it impossible to imagine that two such people can possibly be together.”

  He sighed before he continued,

  “However, what is important is that the Russians will realise, as you have already said, that they must keep their hands off Zararis. That, diplomatically, is what concerns us at present.”

  Lord Victor could think of no answer to this and merely asked,

  “Will I meet the Princess before I leave?”

  “I understand,” the Marquis replied, “that she is at the moment in the country saying goodbye to her grandfather and will, when she reaches London, go straight to the Battleship.”