Bride to the King Read online

  She had started with the love the Greeks knew and how it permeated their thinking and their living and was to them the most important emotion both for God and man.

  It was love, Zosina thought, that motivated great deeds, caused wars, inspired the finest masterpieces of art and music and made men at times as great as the Gods they worshipped.

  She thought now that beneath her endeavours to improve herself, to stimulate her mind, to acquire all the knowledge that was possible, there had been a desire to make herself better than she was.

  Secretly she believed that one day the man who would love her would want her to be different from every other woman he had ever known.

  In retrospect it seemed almost a foolish ambition.

  Yet it had been there and it was difficult in the quiet conventional life they had lived in the schoolroom to remember that they were Royal and their futures must therefore be different from those of other girls of their age.

  Although it had struck Zosina occasionally that her marriage might eventually be arranged, it had never for one moment crossed her mind that it would be to somebody she had never even seen.

  That it would be a fait accompli before she had time to think about it, discuss it or have the chance of refusing the prospective husband if she really disliked him.

  ‘I have been very stupid,’ she told herself, but she knew that even if she had been anything else, the result would have been just the same.

  It was only that deep in her heart something cried out at being pressurised and constrained into a situation in which she could only accept the inevitable and have no choice one way or another.

  ‘I suppose if it is too terrible – too frightening,’ she thought, ‘I could always – die!’

  Then she knew that she wanted to live, she wanted to live her life fully and discover the world, and most of all, although she hardly dared to admit it to herself, she wanted to find love.

  CHAPTER TWO

  There was not a great distance between the capitals of Lützelstein and Dórsia, but the boundary was very mountainous and therefore the train in which they were travelling made, Zosina thought, a great to-do over it.

  The whole journey, however, was so exciting that even the long drawn-out preparations seemed in retrospect worthwhile.

  She had not realised that she would require so many new clothes, until she found that they were to be part of her trousseau.

  This made them less attractive than they had seemed when they were first ordered.

  At the same time, because her sisters were so thrilled by the gowns, bonnets, sunshades, gloves and of course, the exquisite sophisticated lingerie, Zosina found herself carried away on a tide.

  Everything had to be done so quickly that she became very tired of fittings and it was a relief to find that Helsa, although she was fifteen months younger, was a similar build to herself and could often ‘stand in’ for her.

  The only trouble was that every time she did so Helsa was so envious that Zosina felt herself apologising humbly for being the chosen bride.

  “It’s not fair that the oldest should have everything,” Helsa would say. “First Papa likes you the best – ”

  “Which is not saying very much!” the irrepressible Katalin interposed.

  “ – You get married first and to a King!” Helsa finished.

  “You might add that she is much the prettiest of us all,” Theone remarked, “because that’s the truth.”

  “If you only knew how much I wish this was not happening to me,” Zosina said at length when Helsa had been complaining for the hundredth time.

  “The whole mistake has been,” Katalin added, “that you are marrying a European. Now if Papa had had the sense to choose a Moslem, such as an Arab or Egyptian, he could have married off the four of us simultaneously!”

  This made them laugh so much that the tension was broken, but Helsa’s feelings only added to Zosina’s own conviction that her marriage was not only going to be rather frightening, but would also separate her from her own family.

  There was, however, nothing she could do and she tried to tell herself that the gowns and the approval she was receiving from her father and mother were some compensation.

  The Archduchess, in fact, was so unusually affable that Theone commented,

  “If Mama was always in such a good mood as she is now, we would be able to suggest to her that we might occasionally have a dance or even just invite some friends to tea.”

  “I doubt if she would agree,” Helsa said. “The sun is only shining at the moment because Zosina is to be a Queen.”

  It had certainly pleased her mother, Zosina thought, and she was rather surprised because the Archduchess had never appeared to be ambitious for her daughters.

  Then it suddenly struck her that perhaps the real reason was that with her marriage she would be leaving home and there would be one less woman about the Palace.

  Children seldom think of their parents as human beings.

  So it was only during the last year that Zosina had seen her mother not as an authoritative, mechanical figure, but as a woman with all the feelings and emotions of her sex.

  It was then that she realised with a perception she had never had before, that her mother loved her father possessively and jealously.

  On his side, as far as she could ascertain, although he was scrupulously polite and courteous to his wife in public and consulted her in private, he showed no particular affection for her.

  Now she was to be married herself, Zosina found herself considering her father and mother as an example of two people whose marriage had been arranged for them and who, as far as the world was concerned, had made an excellent job of it.

  Because she was looking for signs of deeper feelings than appeared on the surface, she realised by the way her mother looked at her father that beneath an almost icy exterior there was a frustrated and unhappy woman.

  Looking back, Zosina recalled that at Court functions, which they had been allowed to watch from the balcony in the Throne Room or from the gallery in the ballroom, her father had always singled out the most attractive women with whom to dance or converse, once his official duties had been completed.

  At the time she had merely thought how sensible he was to waltz with his arm round a lady with a tiny waist and whose eyes sparkled as brightly as the jewels in her hair.

  Now she wondered if these days, the reason there were so few entertainments in the Palace, was the fact that her mother deliberately wished to isolate him from any contact with other women and keep him for herself.

  She could understand how frustrating it was for her father that he was no longer free to ride alone with a groom every morning as he had done before his gout made him almost a cripple.

  She felt certain too that he was not allowed to entertain any friends that he might have away from the strict protocol of the Palace.

  Vaguely, because she was so often daydreaming or engrossed in a book, she remembered little things being said about her father’s attractions, which should have given her an idea long ago that he had other interests that his family did not share.

  ‘Poor Mama!’ she thought to herself. ‘It must have been difficult for her to hide her jealousy, if that was what she was feeling.’

  Then it struck her that she might find herself in the same situation.

  It was all very well for Katalin to talk about her reforming the King, if he was a rake. Supposing she failed?

  Supposing she did not reform him and spent her life loving a man who found her a bore and only wished to be with other women rather than herself?

  When she thought such things, usually in the darkness of the night, she found herself clenching her hands together and wishing with a fervour that was somehow frightening that she did not have to go to Dórsia.

  Most of all that she did not have to marry King Gyórgy or any other man she had never seen.

  ‘It is not fair that I should be forced into this position just because Ger
many wants to drag our two countries into their Empire!’ she reflected.

  At the same time she could understand how desperately Lützelstein and Dórsia desired to keep their independence.

  The might of the Prussian Army, the behaviour of the Germans when they conquered the French, had made every Lützelsteiner violently patriotic and acutely aware that their own fate could be as quickly settled by a German invasion.

  Zosina remembered how, when nearly five years ago, King Ludwig of Bavaria had capitulated without even a struggle against the Prussian invitation that he should join the Federation, Lützelstein had been appalled.

  Because Bismarck was so keen to have the King’s approval, he had offered Bavaria an illusion of independence, she was to preserve her own railway and postal systems, to enjoy a limited diplomatic status in her dealings with foreign countries and a degree of military, legal and financial autonomy.

  Zosina had heard the story so often of how to be certain of the King’s acceptance, it was even suggested that a Prussian and a Bavarian Monarch might rule either jointly or alternately over the Federation.

  This made the Lützelsteiners hope that things might not be so bad as they had anticipated.

  Then disaster had struck.

  There was talk of a Prussian becoming Emperor over a united Germany.

  When the Prussian representative called to see King Ludwig, he was in bed suffering from a sudden severe attack of toothache.

  He did not feel well enough, the King said, to discuss such important matters, but somehow in some mysterious manner, he was persuaded to write the all-important letter to his uncle, King Wilhelm of Prussia, inviting him to assume the title of Emperor.

  The fury that this had aroused in Lützelstein, Zosina thought now, must have been echoed in Dórsia.

  All she could recall was that her father stormed about the Palace in a rage that lasted for weeks while Councillors came and went, all looking grave and disturbed.

  This, she thought to herself now, was really the first step in uniting Lützelstein and Dórsia by a marriage between herself and the King.

  She wondered if it had been in her father’s mind ever since then and she had the uneasy feeling that perhaps he and the Regent of Dórsia had been waiting until she and the King were old enough to be manipulated into carrying out the plan of alliance.

  It was all so unromantic and so business-like in its efficiency, that she thought cynically that no amount of pretty frilly gowns could make her anything but the kind of ‘Cardboard Queen’ who was operated by the hands of power!

  ‘I suppose the King feels the same,’ she thought, but even that was no consolation.

  She could almost see them both sitting on golden thrones with crowns on their heads, just like a child’s toy, while her father with his Councillors and the Regent with his, turned a key so that they twirled round and round to a tinkling tune having no will and no impetus of their own.

  ‘I suppose if I was stupid enough,’ Zosina said to herself, ‘I would take no interest in politics and would just be content to do as I was told and not want anything different.’

  She remembered how one of their Governesses had said to her,

  “I cannot think, Princess Zosina, why you keep asking so many questions!”

  “I wish to learn, fraulein,” Zosina had answered. “Then confine yourself to subjects that are useful to women,” the Governess had gone on.

  “And what are they?” Zosina enquired.

  “Everything that is pretty and charming – flowers, pictures, music and, of course, men,” she had replied with a self-conscious little smile.

  Zosina had not been surprised when soon after this the Governess, who was really quite attractive, was seen by her mother flirting with one of the Officers of the Guard.

  She had been dismissed and the Governesses that had followed her were all much older and usually extremely unattractive in their appearance.

  Now, Zosina thought, it was not only the Governesses who were ugly but her mother’s Ladies-in-Waiting and any other women who were to be seen frequently in the Palace.

  Which raised the question that she had asked already as to whether this was intentional because of her father’s interest in the fair sex.

  ‘Surely it would be impossible for Mama to be jealous of me?’ Zosina asked.

  But she was not certain!

  When she had gone down to the study to show her father one of the new gowns that had been made for her State Visit, he had looked her over and said approvingly,

  “Well, I may have been cursed with four daughters, but nobody could accuse them of being anything but extremely good-looking!”

  Zosina smiled at him.

  “Thank you, Papa. I am glad I please you.”

  “You will please Dórsia or I will want to know the reason why,” the Archduke replied. “You are a beauty, my girl, and I shall expect them to say so.”

  The Archduchess had come into the study at that moment and, when Zosina turned to look at her with a smile, she felt as if she was frozen by the expression on her mother’s face.

  “That will be enough, Zosina,” she said sharply. “There is no need to tire your father and do not forget that beauty is only skin-deep. It is character which will matter in your future position.”

  The way she spoke told Zosina only too clearly that she thought that was a commodity in which she was lamentably short.

  She had left the study feeling as if for the first time she had really begun to understand what was wrong with the personal relationship between her father and mother and, of course, herself.

  Every moment she was not concerned with choosing, discussing and fitting clothes, Zosina spent in thinking how much the company of her sisters meant to her.

  It had been hopeless to try to explain to them that she felt the sands were running out and that once she had left the schoolroom life would never be the same again.

  Strangely enough it was Katalin who realised that she had something on her mind. She came into her room when they had all gone to bed to sit down and say,

  “You are not happy, are you, Zosina?”

  “You should not be up so late,” Zosina replied automatically.

  “I want to talk to you.”

  “What about?”

  “You.”

  “Why should you want to do that?”

  “Because I can feel you are worried and I suppose apprehensive. I should feel the same.”

  Katalin made a little grimace as she went on,

  “Helsa and Theone really want to be Queens and they don’t care what they have to put up with so long as they can walk about with crowns on their heads. But you are different.”

  Zosina could not help laughing at her.

  Katalin was such a precocious child and yet she was far more sensitive than either of her sisters and more understanding.

  “I shall be all right, dearest,” she said, putting out her hand to take Katalin’s. “It’s just that I shall hate leaving all of you and I am frightened I shall have nobody to laugh with.”

  “I should feel the same,” Katalin replied. “But once the King falls in love with you, everything will be all right.” “Suppose he does not?” Zosina asked.

  She felt for the moment that Katalin was the same age as she was and she could talk to her as an equal.

  “You will have to try to love him,” Katalin suggested, “or else the story will never have a happy ending and I could not bear you to be like Mama and Papa.”

  Zosina looked at her in surprise.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “They are not happy, anyone can see that and Nanny told me once before she left that Papa loved somebody very much when he was young, but he could not marry her because she was a commoner.”

  “Nanny had no right to tell you anything of the sort!”

  “Nanny liked talking about Papa because she had looked after him when he was a baby. She thought the sun rose and set on him because he was so
wonderful!”

  That Zosina knew was true. Nanny had been already elderly when she had stayed on at the Palace to look after the girls when they were born.

  Although it was reprehensible, she could not help being curious about her father and she asked,

  “Did Nanny say who the lady was that Papa loved?”

  “If she did, I cannot remember,” Katalin answered. “But she was very beautiful, and Papa loved her so much that the people were even frightened he might abdicate.”

  “How do you know all these things?” Zosina asked.

  At the same time she could not help being intrigued.

  “Nanny used to talk to the other servants, who had been here almost as long as she had and, because they never liked Mama, they used to say all sorts of things when they forgot I was listening.”

  Zosina could believe that.

  Nanny had been an inveterate gossip. She had only retired when she was nearly eighty and died two years later. “Perhaps King Gyórgy is like Papa,” Katalin was saying, “in love with somebody he cannot marry. In which case, Zosina, you will have to charm him into forgetting her.”

  “I am sure he is too young to want to marry anybody.”

  Zosina spoke almost as if she was putting up a defence against such an idea.

  “I expect when they said that he was wild, they meant that there were lots of women in his life,” Katalin said, “but they may be what Nanny used to call ‘just a passing fancy’.”

  “I cannot imagine what Mama would say if she could hear you talking like this, Katalin.”

  “The one thing you can be sure of is that she will not hear me,” Katalin replied. “I am just warning you that you will have to be prepared for all sorts of strange things to happen when you reach Dórsia.”

  “It seems strange for you to be warning me,” Zosina protested.

  “Not really. You see, darling Zosina, you are so terribly impractical. You are always far away in your dream world and you expect real people to be like those you read about and like you are yourself.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Zosina asked.

  “I have looked at the sort of books you read. They are all about fantasy people, who just like you, are kind, good and courageous and searching for spiritual enlightenment. The people we meet are not like that”