The Protection of Love Page 4
The Prince laughed.
“One might well say the same of most houses and Palaces in Russia. The Russians are collectors and whether they buy, steal, or just bring home something that they like, they store it like a squirrel with nuts.”
Because she was listening to him, Meta said without thinking,
“How can you bear to leave Russia and all the things you love behind you?”
Even as she spoke she knew that she had made a mistake.
Richard frowned at her and said quickly,
“I should have explained. His Highness is here only on a visit and he will eventually, of course, be returning to his own country.”
Meta was well aware that she had indeed made a gaffe.
“How stupid of me,” she said. “I don’t know why but I thought that he was coming to live in England.”
“As it happens. Miss Lindley,” the Prince said, “it is something I have been considering for some time so you must have been reading my thoughts.”
“I wish I could do something so clever,” Meta said hastily. “I am sure if that is what you want to do, you will find England a very quiet and happy place.”
She thought although she had made a mistake she had come out of it quite gracefully.
At the same time she told herself severely that she must be much more careful.
It was, in fact, something that had happened to her before. Without any reason for it she was aware of what people were thinking before they put it into words.
Fortunately at that moment Bell came in with the tea.
Under his instructions the footmen arranged the table where her mother had always had it in front of the sofa.
They spread a lace table cloth over it.
Then they brought in the silver tray with its very fine collection of George III silver.
There was a kettle, teapot, the milk and cream jugs and the sugar basin and then much important was the little Queen Anne silver box in which the tea was kept and locked.
Meta sat down where her mother had always sat.
As she poured out the tea, the table was almost weighed down with sandwiches, scones, and small fairy cakes. There were also large cakes iced with chocolate and pink and white sugar.
The Princess gave a cry of delight.
“Now I know I am really in England,” she enthused in French.
“Say it in English,” the Prince ordered.
“It takes too long,” she retorted. “I want to eat everything that is on the table.”
Richard laughed.
“It is all there for you. I hope you will allow me to have just the one gingerbread Teddy Bear.”
Meta looked at him over the teapot.
“Mrs. Bell has baked them especially for you,” she pointed out. “She never forgets.”
“I have had them ever since I can remember,” Richard replied, “and it would not seem like home without them.”
He explained to the Princess about the gingerbread Teddy Bears and how, when he was at school, he looked forward to coming home so that he could eat them all over again.
The Princess was entranced by the idea and then ate three and Richard ate most of the others.
The Prince did not say very much.
Meta felt that he was watching them and it gave her a very uncomfortable feeling.
She was not certain, as she looked at him across the table, whether he was a friend or a foe.
The question made her feel nervous.
‘Suppose he hurts Richard?’ she asked herself.
She was not quite certain how the Prince could do so.
If he went on one of his dangerous missions and the Prince was aware of it, he could be shot or disposed of.
Then she told herself that she was being imaginative again. At the same time she could not help being afraid.
She had to admit, however, that the Prince was good-looking. In fact he was the most handsome man she had ever seen.
But she was quite sure that there was something slightly sinister about him.
She could not put a name to it because he was talking and laughing with Richard.
They were teasing the Princess because she had eaten so much.
Yet Meta was aware that there was something very reserved about the Prince.
It suddenly struck her that, perhaps like she and Richard, he was acting a part.
‘I wish they had not come,’ she thought. ‘We would be better off without them.’
At the same time she had to admit that it was rather exciting to have the extra servants in the house and to know that they could afford the best food.
She could hear the Prince now telling Richard that he wanted to buy a large number of horses.
“You must come and see what we have in the stables,” Richard suggested. “There are not so many as there used to be in my father’s time, but the ones that we do have are, I think, outstanding and I would like to hear your opinion on them.”
“I would like to see them,” the Prince replied, “so why not now?”
“But of course,” Richard said, “if you have finished your tea.”
“I have not finished,” the Princess piped up, “so I will come and join you when I have.”
“You will get fat if you eat so much,” the Prince warned her.
“I will risk it,” the Princess answered.
Her brother laughed and ruffled her dark hair as he passed her.
Then he and Richard left the room.
“I know I am going to enjoy being here,” the Princess said in French as soon as he had gone, “because you have such delicious food.”
‘Then Your Highness must come and meet Mrs. Bell, who has been with us for thirty years, she adores Richard and whenever he comes home she tries to make the best and most delicious dishes for him.”
“Then he is a very lucky man and please, as we are going to be together, will you call me ‘Nathlia’? I hope I can call you by the pretty name your brother uses.”
“But. of course,” Meta said, “it is far easier than saying ‘Your Highness’ every moment.”
“I am sick of hearing it,” the Princess replied. “Now that we have escaped, there will be no need for anyone to say it anymore.”
“Escaped?” Meta enquired.
Even as she asked the question, she knew that the Princess had said something that she thought was wrong.
There was a distinct pause before she explained,
“There is so much protocol and unnecessary pomp in all Russian houses. My brother and I wanted to feel free as I am sure we will be in England.”
Meta suspected that this was not quite the truth.
But at least it was a reasonable explanation.
“You will find very little pomp here except, of course, if you go to Buckingham Palace.”
“Which I have no wish to do,” Nathlia said. “I am tired of Palaces and curtseying until my knees ache. I just want to be me.”
“And that is what you shall be,” Meta assured her. “But you must not forget that I have to teach you English or your brother will be very annoyed with me.”
“Oh, don’t pay any attention to him,” Nathlia said. “He is always saying I must do this and do that and it is very boring.”
“One thing I hope is that you will not be bored here.”
“Why should I be?” Nathlia asked. “When we are tired of riding your horses, we will go to London and I will dance with all the charming young men I have been told about.”
“What have you been told?” Meta enquired.
“Oh, let’s go and see the horses,” Nathlia said. “There will be plenty of time to talk about London when we get there.”
She jumped up from the table and walked towards the door.
Meta thought that she was very different from what she had expected and did not behave in any way like a Princess.
‘I expect it is her English blood,’ she told herself.
At the same time she thought that the Princess
was very Russian.
When she and Nathlia joined the Prince at the stables, he did not say anything.
He looked at Meta questioningly as he had done before.
Because her brother was there, Nathlia made an effort to speak in English.
There were many words that she pronounced incorrectly and Meta, however, thought it would be a mistake to correct her while there were others listening to her.
She talked to her in English, but slowly so that it was easier for her to understand.
The Princess was delighted with the horses and the Prince praised them as well.
“I suggest,” he said, “that we all go riding tomorrow morning, then in the afternoon you and I, Lindley, had better see if there are any local horses for sale that are good enough to add to this collection.”
“I think you will find better at Tattersalls Salerooms,” Richard replied.
“I have no wish to return to London at the moment.”
The Prince spoke sharply and Richard looked surprised before he answered,
“Very well. We will have to see what we can find locally. We may be lucky and find that some of our neighbours are prepared to sell what is surplus in their stables. But one must not count on it.”
“I am sure that you will manage it somehow,” the Prince said. “Otherwise, of course, I can trust you to buy some of the horses I require without my being there.”
‘It was quite obvious,’ Meta thought, ‘that he has no wish to go to London.’
She then wondered why.
After what Richard had said, she had expected him to stay on for only a little time in the country during the summer.
He would enjoy the Season with its balls and every other sort of entertainment, at least until after Royal Ascot.
Richard obviously thought much the same.
He asked no questions and Meta knew that it was something that she must not do.
Instead she said as little as possible to the Prince and took Nathlia away from the stables to look at the lake.
The Princess appeared to be interested and then she asked,
“I am quite happy to ride in the daytime, but what do we do in the evening?”
“What do you want to do?” Meta parried because she did not have an immediate answer.
“For one thing I do want to dance,” Nathlia replied, “and I want to meet young men who will be amusing to talk to and who will, of course, pay me the right sort of compliments.”
Meta looked at her in surprise.
“You are talking as if you are a debutante,” she said. “Richard did say that we might be going to London and to balls, but I thought because I was teaching you English you would be too young to – what we call in England – ‘come out’.”
“I know exactly what you are saying,” Nathlia answered, “because Mama explained it all to me. But we become debutantes much earlier in Russia and also because I am a Princess I can do more or less what I want to do. I sent my Governess away six months ago and I have no intention of having another one.”
“I thought that you were only just seventeen,” Meta queried.
“I am,” Nathlia said. “But I am old enough to be married and lots of Russian girls marry when they are seventeen and, just because Alexis has brought me to England, he is not going to treat me like a schoolgirl.”
She sounded so indignant that Meta said quickly,
“No, of course not, and you shall do whatever you like. It may be difficult to find you lots of young men very quickly, but one or two will do to start with.”
Nathlia smiled and suggested,
“Let’s you and I give a dinner party tomorrow or the next day. I am sure in this lovely house of yours you have a ballroom.”
“Yes – we have,” Meta said, “but it has – not been used for a – long time.”
She thought quickly that she must have it well cleaned before the Princess saw it.
She had never imagined for a moment that there would be a chance that they would ever have a ball so the room had not been used since her father died.
“Then that is settled,” Nathlia said. “I shall look forward to the dinner party that you will arrange for me and I very much hope that we can dance afterwards.”
She spoke now in an imperious way that told Meta that she intended to have what she wanted.
She put her hand up to her forehead.
This was something that she most certainly had not expected. It was bad enough getting the servants in such a rush.
Now she had to persuade the friends she had not seem for a long while, as she had been in mourning, to come to a dinner party.
She knew that she must discuss this first with Richard.
But she expected that he would agree to anything that the Prince and his sister wanted.
They walked back into the house and Meta felt as if she was breathlessly trying to catch something that was moving farther and farther out of her reach.
‘I have to do what they want for Richard’s sake,’ she told herself firmly.
When they went to the drawing room, she found that Richard and the Prince had already returned from the stables.
“I wondered what had happened to you,” Richard commented.
“We have been in the garden,” Nathlia replied, “planning a lovely surprise for tomorrow or the night after.”
“What is that?” Richard enquired.
“A dinner party and a dance to follow it,” Nathlia proclaimed.
As she spoke, Meta saw the expression on the Prince’s face.
Although he said nothing, she knew that what he had just heard had annoyed him.
In fact there was an expression in his eyes which she thought was one of anger.
“I think, Nathlia,” he said, “it is a mistake for us to impose on our host and hostess the moment we arrive. In fact we should, to use an English phrase, ‘play ourselves in’.”
“I cannot think why,” Nathlia replied. “You promised if I came to England I would enjoy myself and, of course, I want to dance. I cannot dance if there are no men to dance with.”
“I am sure we can provide you with some partners,” Richard said, “but, of course, it will be much easier in London where the Season has now started and there are balls every night.”
“I have no wish to go to London at the moment,” the Prince said again.
He spoke firmly in a voice that told Meta that he did not intend to argue about it.
“In that case,” Richard suggested, “we must do the best we can. We have many friends in the neighbourhood, although my sister has not seen them lately.”
She thought that the Prince was scowling and then Meta added hastily,
“I am sure they would be delighted to come if we asked them, especially to meet anyone so important charming as His Highness and his sister.”
For a moment no one spoke and then the Prince said,
“I think that I rather resent being a sprat to catch a mackerel. Just ask them as you would ordinarily because they are friends and if they meet me, as of course they will, there need be no fanfare of trumpets just because I have come from Russia.”
The way he spoke in such a cold, clear and rather aggressive manner made both Meta and Richard stare at him.
Then, because he was determined to do what he was asked, Richard remarked,
“I am sure if Meta sent a personal letter to our friends, they will be only too delighted to be our guests. It is just that I did explain to Your Highness that we have been in mourning recently and therefore have lived very quietly.”
“Yes, yes, I am well aware of that,” the Prince said rather sharply.
Again there was something in the way he spoke that made Meta know he was somewhat on edge.
Richard looked at her and then she said,
“We will do exactly what you have suggested. So I think, if we made it Saturday night, it would give us more time for the grooms to ride out with the invitations.”
“Then let it
be Saturday night,” Nathlia said, “and I want to dance, dance, until my shoes are worn out!”
She swirled round as she spoke.
As Meta had the idea that the Prince was still looking somewhat aggressive, she held out her hand.
“Come and look at the ballroom and we will decide if it is going to be large enough for you and how we are going to decorate it.”
Nathlia gave a little cry of delight.
“We will do that,” she said, “and, if Alexis is going to be gloomy about it, he can just shut himself in his bedroom and sulk. No one will get at him there!”
As she finished speaking, she took hold of Meta’s hand and pulled her towards the door.
As they reached it, Meta looked back.
Now she saw that the Prince was frowning and looking extremely disagreeable.
Chapter Three
There was no doubt that the Prince could ride.
As they galloped across the fields, Meta knew that he was better than Richard, who she had always thought was unbeatable.
In point of fact he seemed to be so much part of his horse that it was just like watching a brilliant performance on a stage.
Nathlia also rode extremely well and looked exceedingly smart.
Meta was at first a little embarrassed that her habit was getting old and it was certainly not made of such a good material as Nathlia’s.
But once she was mounted on Firefly she forgot everything except the joy of riding him.
If she could not outdistance their guests, she could at least keep level with them.
They galloped across the flat land, which ended up with a high fence that all the horses took with several inches to spare.
When they reached the other side of the fence, they then slowed down to a trot.
The Prince turned to speak to Richard,
“You are quite right, Lindley, your horses are indeed outstanding and so, may I say, are their riders.”
‘There I agree with you,” Richard said, “and I am certain that you must have been riding with the Cossacks at some time or another.”
“For quite a long time as it so happens,” the Prince answered, “but it is something I have no wish to do again.”
He did not say anything more.
But Meta thought that there was a darkness in his eyes, as if he was thinking about some particularly unhappy period in his life.