A Princess in Distress Read online

  There were a number of ladies who were only too delighted to renew their acquaintance with Lord Arkley.

  There was a look in their eyes which he knew only too well, speculative, wondering if he was free, provocative and, of course, inviting.

  It was all quite amusing but as he walked back to the Weimar with the King, but he told himself that it was difficult for him to be intrigued by anything but what was taking place in the suite next to his.

  There was no doubt that the Princess Mariska was more beautiful than any of the other women he had seen so far in Marienbad.

  In fact, if he was honest, she was one of the most beautiful and unusual women that he had even seen in his whole life.

  Chapter Two

  “There is no doubt, sir,” Lord Arkley said to the King, “that the Germans are beginning to have nightmares about an Anglo-French-Russian alignment.”

  “That is what I thought myself,” the King replied.

  His Majesty had sent for Lord Arkley and they were sitting in his suite at the Hotel Weimar, which had been decorated and furnished in what the proprietor hoped would be a style fit for an English King.

  There was an open fireplace and a red mahogany mantelpiece had been installed and in front of it were two comfortable leather armchairs.

  It always amused Lord Arkley to know that every year the King’s suite was specially furnished for him in a different style from his previous visit.

  This in fact was not an extravagance on the part of the owners, for after he left all the furniture and carpets he used were sold as souvenirs for much more than their intrinsic value.

  Lord Arkley knew that the King was already aware of a great deal of what he had to tell him.

  He also knew that the King had become extremely involved in his efforts not only to promote the French interest in Morocco but also to cement even more firmly the Entente Cordiale between France and Great Britain that had recently been negotiated.

  When he left the King’s apartments an hour later, he had learnt a secret which would, he knew, have alarmed the Germans even more than they were already.

  The King had confided in him the secret instructions that General Brun, Chief of the French General Staff, had sent to his Military Attaché in London earlier in the month.

  These were to examine what concrete help the British Army could give to France in the event of a War with Germany.

  Lord Arkley did not enquire how the King had become aware of anything quite so highly confidential.

  But his astute mind realised that it was the first strand in a web of staff talks and ‘understandings’ that would eventually, he was sure, bind France and England closely together against the might and ambitions of the German High Command.

  “I am very grateful to you,” the King had said after he and Lord Arkley had talked for over an hour. “I will keep you informed of what develops in this project day by day, but for Heaven’s sake be careful what you say in Marienbad. I have a feeling that my nephew’s spies are everywhere.”

  This was indeed what Lord Arkley had thought himself.

  It therefore did not surprise him on leaving the King’s apartments to walk back to his own rooms to see moving along the corridor, resplendent in Prussian uniform, two German Officers.

  He could not see their faces, but recognised that they were high ranking.

  He realised that they were going to Prince Friederich’s suite and thought that, if they were making a courtesy call on behalf of the Kaiser, it at least showed that he had at any rate some consideration left for the young Ruler who in the past had served him well.

  He went into his own sitting room wondering how he could see Prince Friederich again and, if he was honest with himself, his wife.

  Already after one day in Marienbad he had been swept into the usual gaieties that the place abounded with.

  Invitations were pouring in to large dinner parties where the King would be the principal guest, to luncheons, bridge parties and the theatre.

  He had already renewed his acquaintance with the Princess Joachim Murat and the Marquise de Ganay, both beautiful charming ladies and old friends of the King.

  He hoped that they would divert His Majesty’s attention from himself.

  Already he felt that the King, who adored intrigue and what Lord Arkley called ‘Spy Stories’ was beginning to demand his attendance more than was strictly necessary.

  ‘Dammit,’ he said to himself, ‘I am on holiday too and like the Duke of Lanchester I wish to be incognito.’

  He had done, although he said so himself, a good job in ferreting out quite a number of things that the King wished to know during his three weeks in Germany.

  Now he wanted to forget everything but his own pleasure and that, he knew, meant a closer acquaintance with the Princess Mariska.

  Restlessly he walked onto his balcony hoping that he might catch a glimpse of her on the other side of the trelliswork, but the balcony was empty and there were no voices coming from the open window adjoining the sitting room.

  Disappointed, quite unreasonably disappointed, Lord Arkley was deciding where he should go for a walk and perhaps visit the casino or one of the attractive women who had begged him to call on them, when he heard the Prince’s barking voice exclaim,

  “Here you are! Where the devil have you been?”

  “I told you, Friederich, that I had promised to visit the Duchesse. She is very old, can never leave her room and she wanted to see me and to ask after you.”

  “When I want you to play nursemaid to some tiresome old woman who should have been dead long ago, I will tell you!”

  “I am – sorry, Friederich.”

  “So you should be! I have had visitors and you should have been here to entertain them.”

  “Visitors?”

  Lord Arkley could hear the question in the Princess’s voice. It was a little difficult to hear what she said because she spoke in her usual, low sweet manner, but the Prince because he was annoyed, was shouting at her and every word spoken in his guttural German was completely clear.

  “Baron von Echardstein and Admiral von Senden came specially to see me.”

  “Oh, Friederich, how delightful for you. I am so glad.”

  “You see, whatever you may think I am not completely useless.”

  “You know I never thought you were,” Princess Mariska said quietly.

  “The Kaiser needs my help.”

  There was a boastful note in Prince Friederich’s thick voice that made Lord Arkley stiffen as had been listening to the conversation merely to have the pleasure of hearing the Princess speak.

  “How can you help them, Friederich?”

  “There is no need for you to ask questions,” her husband replied crushingly, “you only have to do as I tell you. First bring me a drink.”

  “D-do you think it – wise?” the Princess asked hesitatingly. “You know what the – doctor said.”

  “Gott im Himmel! Will you not argue with me but obey me? You are stupid and useless and it is marrying you that has brought me to the pass I am in now. So at least you can do as you are told.”

  The Prince was shouting and, as if the Princess was afraid that his voice would carry to the rooms next door or even into the garden, she closed the window hurriedly.

  Now Lord Arkley could hear only indistinct bellowings from the Prince and, as he walked back into his sitting room, his expression was serious.

  What could General Baron von Echardstein who had been at one time Chargé d’Affaires in London and Admiral von Senden want with Prince Friederich?

  It seemed unlikely that in the condition he was in he could be of any use to the Kaiser, but it had been made clear that there was in fact something that he could do. But what?

  Could it be in some way connected with the King?

  He thought actually he ought to report what he had overheard to His Majesty and then he decided that it would be too embarrassing to admit that he had been eavesdropping.

  He was quite certain that the King with his unusual perception where a beautiful woman was concerned would be quickly aware that he was not interested in Prince Friederich but in his wife.

  ‘It is not so much that I am interested,’ Lord Arkley told himself, ‘but extremely sorry for anyone so young and so attractive to be tied to such a brute, whatever excuses he may have for his behaviour.’

  He also tried to believe that one reason for his solicitude was the fact that the Princess was half-English.

  He had remembered during the night when strangely he had awoken to find himself thinking of her that her mother had been a daughter of the Duke of Dorset.

  That would account for her perfect English and that when she had been frightened and pleading with her husband English had come more naturally to her lips than German.

  He only hoped that, as the Prince had been swearing in what to her was a foreign language, that she was not aware of the meaning of some of the words he had used in his drunken rage.

  Because it upset Lord Arkley to think of way that she was being sworn at and insulted at this very moment, he left his suite and, picking up his hat and cane, walked through the gardens of the Hotel Weimar and up the path that led to the Kurhaus.

  He always disliked gambling or playing bridge in the daytime.

  But he knew that even if he had no wish to play he would find a large number of people he knew in the attractive casino.

  Thanks to the fashionable visitors attracted by King Edward to Marienbad, it had begun to rival the casinos of Homburg and Monte Carlo.

  The first person he found was Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, leader of the Liberal Party. For the sake of his wife who was in ill health, he had been a regular visitor to Marienbad for some years.

  “Nice to see you, Arkley,” Sir Henry said. “I suppose you have come to join His Majesty’s circus, which I am beginning to find more exhausting day by day.”

  Lord Arkley laughed.

  He knew that Sir Henry had disapproved of the King before he came to know him well, just as His Majesty had expected he would find little in common with a Liberal who had repeatedly attacked Arthur Balfour, the Prime Minister.

  He was suspicious of elderly Politicians, expecting them to be prosy and heavy.

  At first the King had therefore taken little notice of Sir Henry as a man, but one day he invited him to luncheon and found him extremely good company with a fund of amusing stories, repartee, jokes and gastronomic appreciation.

  Afterwards whenever the King arrived at Marienbad, he demanded that Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman should be constantly in attendance to amuse him.

  Smiling, Lord Arkley enquired now,

  “What has happened to make you sound as if you are tired?”

  “I am tired,” Sir Henry said. “I have become so mixed up with the King’s incessant gaieties. His energy and his appetite are insatiable. I can assure you, Arkley, it is no rest and no holiday for me.”

  Lord Arkley laughed and then with a smile Sir Henry added,

  “I have something to show you that really will amuse the King.”

  “What is that?”

  Sir Henry held out a picture in an illustrated paper showing King Edward talking to him in the gardens of the Kurhaus.

  The King was striking his palm with a clenched fist in emphasis of some point that Sir Henry was paying close attention to.

  Lord Arkley looked at it for a moment and saw that under the picture there was a caption that read,

  “IS IT PEACE – OR WAR?”

  He handed the illustrated paper back and said,

  “I would like to ask the same question.”

  “The important matter that the King desired my opinion on,” Sir Henry replied, “was whether halibut is better baked or boiled!”

  Lord Arkley threw back his head and laughed.

  Then he told himself that here was the very person he should confide his curiosity to as to why the German High Command was visiting Prince Friederich.

  He even opened his lips to explain what had happened when something stopped him. He felt that this was his problem and no one else’s. Or was it a desire to protect the Princess?

  He was not sure. He only knew that suddenly he had no wish to discuss either the Prince or Princess of Wilzenstein with Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman or with anyone else.

  Almost as soon as he had entered the casino he left it, walking back to the Weimar deep in thought.

  He was still undecided as to which of the many dinner parties that he had been invited to he should accept.

  There were pages at the hotel waiting to carry letters to any part of the town, but usually there was no need for them to go far.

  Most of the important visitors stayed at the Weimar because the King stayed there and the rest were in adjacent hotels that were all built close to each other and near the Kurhaus.

  As he re-entered his sitting room, which he had left only a short while ago, the first thing he saw on the table, which stood in the centre of the room ornamented with a brightly flowering plant, was a letter that had not been there when he left

  He picked it up, wondering which hostess was adding her invitation to the others or whether it was a rather more intimate billet-doux from one of two lovely ladies who had paid him particular attention at luncheon.

  He looked at his name inscribed on the envelope and realised that it was in a hand he had not seen before, a distinctive handwriting that pleased him by its sheer elegance.

  When he opened the envelope, his first glance at the signature made him suddenly alert as he read,

  “Dear Lord Arkley,

  The Prince and I would be so delighted if you could dine with us this evening quietly in our sitting room. My husband asked me to say that it was such a pleasure to meet you again and he would enjoy talking over old times when you were in Wilzenstein.

  He hopes and so do I that we shall see you this evening at eight o’clock.

  Yours sincerely,

  Mariska of Wilzenstein.”

  Lord Arkley stared at the letter almost as if he could not believe what he had read. At the same time his extremely astute brain was busy.

  There was something behind this, some reason why the Prince had suddenly become so affable and he could not help feeling that it was in some way connected with the visit from the two distinguished Officers he had seen.

  All thought of being on holiday was dismissed from his mind and he knew that he had stepped back into the strait-jacket that he thought he could lay aside when he arrived in Marienbad.

  Equally when later he changed for dinner, he told himself that he was interested and intrigued in a manner that reminded him of how he had felt in the very first assignment that he had been sent on by the King.

  His father had expected him to have a career in the Diplomatic Service and he had in fact started work in the Foreign Office soon after he left Oxford University.

  It seemed an inevitable choice after he had gained a First in Modern Languages and was spoken of as one of the more brilliant young men who had ever been at Christ Church College.

  Two years later his father died and he found Politics more amusing than Diplomacy until the Foreign Office approached him to visit several foreign countries with a special and secret brief.

  His usefulness, Lord Arkley knew, rested at that time on his amazing capacity for languages.

  That Russian was amongst them was not generally known with the result that he brought back information from St. Petersburg that was quite sensational.

  That he was extremely good company with other men, besides being sought after by the ladies, a sportsman and a raconteur when the port was passed round the table, did not escape the notice of the King.

  Lord Arkley found himself continually included in the Royal parties and soon the King was assigning him special missions of his own in which with luck combined with expertise he was exceedingly successful.

  What he had to do, however, had made him and he regretted it himself, exceedingly suspicious.

  Owing to the tense situation in Europe there were inevitably a great number of spies working for all the major countries, some of whom were beautiful and seductive women.

  Lord Arkley had learnt to be always on his guard.

  Although he told himself now that there was no reason to be suspicious of what might well be an ordinary invitation, his instinct told him that there might be a great deal more to it than that.

  “Will you be late, my Lord?” Hawkins now asked him.

  Lord Arkley was ready and had no idea as he glanced perfunctorily at himself in the mirror how attractive he looked.

  Unlike many of his contemporaries he did not wear ornate studs in his stiff white shirt.

  Instead his were just three pearls, two of white and one of pink, which had been given to him by the first woman who had taught him the arts of love.

  He always found himself thinking of her when he fastened them in the front of his shirt.

  She had not only been beautiful but kind and gentle, so that he had not merely adored her at the time but revered her memory.

  He knew that every woman he had made love to subsequently, and there had been many of them, had somehow fallen short of his first experience.

  He told himself that he was being sentimental. But he knew that he was not alone in seeking the ecstasy that for many men set a standard in their pursuit of love that perhaps they would never be able to achieve again.

  But that, Lord Arkley told himself with a twist of his lips, did not prevent him from trying.

  He knew that, if after he left Prince Friederich’s dinner party he sought a different type of amusement, it was readily available in Marienbad.

  At exactly a quarter to eight he walked from his own suite to the one next door.

  The door of the suite was opened by Josef, the manservant, who led him formally to the door of the sitting room and announced him with a punctilious loudness that had something very Germanic about it.

  Princess Mariska was standing at the far end of the sitting room, which was somewhat larger, Lord Arkley noticed, than his own.

  Again she was wearing white and as he was announced she moved towards him.