69 Love Leaves at Midnight Read online

  The Count was attempting to answer Xenia’s question.

  “There is a little trouble in Molnár Your Royal Highness, but I am certain that the people only need to have their minds diverted from their mostly imaginary troubles for them to be forgotten.”

  That is why Johanna has been sent for in a hurry to Luthenia, Xenia decided.

  If she had not been there since she and the King became engaged, there would obviously be presentations, receptions and perhaps a ball.

  It was exciting to think that she might just for once in her life attend a State Ball.

  Her mother had often described them to her, but she had never attended a ball of any sort, State or otherwise.

  She had been astonished when they reached Dover to see the enormous amount of luggage that Johanna carried with her and which had fortunately been retrieved undamaged from the wreckage of the train.

  The luggage van had not turned over and there had been no difficulty in transferring the big leather trunks to a second carriage following the one Xenia travelled in to the Port.

  She was almost speechless when she saw what the trunks Johanna was using on the train journey contained.

  There were gowns that she had never dreamt of seeing, let alone being able to wear. They were so beautiful, so fragile and so exquisite that Xenia was almost afraid to put them on in case she should spoil them.

  ‘I must be very very careful,’ she admonished herself, but it was a delight to see her reflection in the mirror and know that she did in fact look like a Fairy Princess.

  All the colours had been chosen especially to accentuate the red of Johanna’s hair, which was exactly like her own.

  The only difference between them, Xenia thought, was that perhaps her skin was whiter and had a little more of the magnolia look that her father admired.

  There were not only gowns for her to wear but a huge jewel case filled with what appeared to be the King’s treasury of jewels.

  She had with difficulty prevented herself from exclaiming at their magnificence when Madame Gyula opened it for her.

  “It is very fortunate,” the Lady-in-Waiting said, “that I was in charge of this, Your Royal Highness, rather than your poor maid. If they had been lost, it would have been a tragedy!”

  “It would indeed,” Xenia said, looking at the necklaces of pearls and diamonds and the bracelets to match, which were in another tray.

  “I understand that some of them belong to your dear mother,” Madame Gyula continued. “So it would have been a double loss had they been stolen or crushed in that terrible disaster.”

  Xenia could not help smiling a little to herself.

  Every mile they travelled towards Luthenia the train accident was assuming larger and larger proportions in Madame Gyula’s mind.

  She was quite certain that once they arrived Madame was determined to play the heroine and doubtless be surrounded by a rapturous audience while she recounted her traumatic experience!

  One thing, which was lucky, was that it took her mind off her charge and Xenia was able since Madame’s mind was elsewhere to prevent her noticing several little lapses and mistakes she made.

  The King’s train travelled swiftly, but even so it was a day and a night’s journey to Luthenia from Vienna.

  As they sped through Austria, Xenia found it difficult to do anything but stare out of the window entranced by everything she saw.

  This was where she had always longed to be, in the part of Europe her mother belonged to and which she had never thought for one instant she would be able to visit except in the poorest most economical manner.

  To be waited on in comfort beyond anything she had ever imagined was an irrepressible excitement and to know also that every time she looked in the mirror she appeared more beautiful than she had ever been in her whole life was an unbelievable enchantment.

  ‘But I am a Cinderella,’ she warned herself, ‘at midnight I have to disappear! Only in this story my Fairy Godmother takes my place!’

  Sometimes when she was thinking about Johanna she wondered what it was like to be alone with a man one loved, hiding with him because they must not be seen together, but content, as Johanna had said, just to be in his arms.

  Then, because the thought of her cousin’s behaviour continued to shock her, she tried not to think about anything except what lay ahead.

  They travelled through a high mountain pass, then crossed a bridge over a wide river and were now within an hour’s journey of the Luthenian border.

  “You must – tell me what I am to – expect,” she said to the Count with a sudden touch of panic.

  “It will be nothing at all frightening, Your Royal Highness,” he replied as if he was surprised at her tone of voice. “You will receive an address of welcome from the Mayor and the Foreign Minister will join the train. You know Mr. Miklos Dudich.”

  Xenia put her hand up to her forehead.

  “You will think it very stupid, Count,” she said, “but ever since the accident I have been finding difficulty in remembering some people. Tell me about Mr. Dudich.”

  “You will recognise him when you see him,” the Count answered. “It was he who made all the arrangements regarding the announcement of your engagement to His Majesty when he stayed with your grandfather in Slovia.”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” Xenia said. “How stupid of me. These lapses of memory are quite frightening.”

  “It is quite a usual thing to happen,” the Count said soothingly. “I remember when I had concussion after a bad fall out riding I lost my memory for two weeks.”

  “Then you will understand how foolish I feel,” Xenia smiled, “and please help me in case I forget any of the protocol in Molnár. I believe His Majesty is very insistent that everything should be correct.”

  The Count looked sceptical.

  “If I am honest, ma’am, I would like His Majesty to be far more particular about such things.”

  “You would?” Xenia asked, surprised, “but Madame Gyula – ”

  The Count laughed.

  “Madame is one of those people, Your Royal Highness, who are always in a flutter in case she should do the wrong thing and therefore exaggerates everything that is expected of her.”

  “I was becoming quite frightened in case I made mistakes and got into – trouble.”

  “If you are ever in any trouble, Your Royal Highness, any Luthenian from the King to his lowliest subject would forgive you,” the Count said with an unmistakable expression of admiration in his eyes.

  “I hope you are right,” Xenia said doubtfully.

  “I will do everything in my power to remind you of what is expected,” the Count said, “but the Luthenians who met you in your own country reported that you were so assured, so polished in everything you said and did, that you might be ten years older than you really are.”

  Xenia felt her heart give a frightened leap.

  The Luthenians and especially their King would not find her at all polished or experienced! She could only pray fervently that by some miracle she would be saved from making a fool of herself.

  She passed through the ordeal at the frontier with what she thought to herself were flying colours and then they carried her on towards Molnár.

  Now she had to meet the King.

  It gave her a little more confidence when before they neared Molnár she put on one of Johanna’s most beautiful gowns.

  It was in pale green, the colour of the buds in spring and the chic little hat that went with it was decorated with spring flowers.

  When she was dressed, Xenia stared at herself in the mirror and she wished that her mother could see her.

  Now she understood why Mrs. Sandon had always regretted that her daughter would never wear the type of gown she had worn as a girl.

  ‘Perhaps it would be a bore always to be so dressed up,’ Xenia tried to console herself.

  Then she knew it would never be a bore to dress as she was now and to know without conceit that she looked exc
eedingly beautiful.

  “We are nearly there, Your Royal Highness,” Madame Gyula said in a fluttering tone from the door.

  Looking at her reflection in the mirror Xenia saw her eyes widen and seem very large in her pale face.

  ‘It’s all right. He will think you are Johanna. All you have to do is to be pleasant,’ she told herself, almost in the tone of a schoolmistress instructing a pupil.

  At the same time as she turned to walk into the drawing room, she knew that her lips were dry and her hands were trembling a little.

  She had already learnt that when they arrived the King, who would be waiting on the station, would meet her alone in the train.

  Madame Gyula, the Count and the Foreign Minister, whom she had greeted effusively, would not be in attendance and the curtains would be drawn so that there would be no prying eyes to see them greet each other.

  As she entered the drawing room to find the lights were lit, Xenia wondered with a sudden tension if perhaps the King would attempt to kiss her.

  After all he was engaged to Johanna and engaged couples did kiss each other.

  She had never been kissed and she thought frantically that Johanna was experienced in this as in other things and perhaps she might make a mistake.

  ‘Supposing he notices and thinks it strange?’ Xenia asked herself.

  Then she remembered that Johanna had told her that she and the King had already arranged to go their own ways once they were married, in which case he was unlikely to be demonstrative.

  It was a consoling thought.

  At the same time as the train drew very slowly up to the station platform and Xenia could hear at first cheers, then the sound of a band, she knew that she was trembling.

  “I shall be waiting outside the carriage, Your Royal Highness, to greet His Majesty,” Madame Gyula said, “so if there is anything you want, anything I can get you?”

  “No, thank you,” Xenia replied.

  She was sitting stiffly on the edge of one of the armchairs and the Count glanced at her with some concern in his eyes.

  “Are you all right, Your Royal Highness?” he enquired. “Would you like me to fetch you a glass of water or a glass of wine? I realise that any ceremony is somewhat of a strain after all you have been through on the journey here.”

  “No, I am quite all right, thank you, Count,” Xenia managed to say.

  She did not sound particularly sure of it, but there was no time to say more.

  The train drew to a halt and the Count and the Foreign Minister hurried through the door.

  Again there were cheers and the sound of music and then voices meaning that the King was greeting those who had escorted her on the train.

  Slowly, with her heart beating in an uncomfortable manner, Xenia rose to her feet.

  She told herself she must behave absolutely naturally and remember that she was Johanna, assured and sophisticated.

  This would mean nothing to her, not even the moment when she was reunited with the man to whom she was supposedly engaged.

  The door of the carriage opened and the King came in.

  Although she had thought about him so much, although she had tried to find out everything she could about him, she had not expected him to look so impressive or indeed so different from any man she had ever seen before.

  He stood looking at her, wearing a white tunic covered in medals, dark red trousers and carrying a plumed hat.

  He was dark-haired and, almost before he moved towards her, she saw that he had a grace that her mother had described to her as part of their Hungarian heritage.

  But it was his face and the expression on it that held her eyes.

  He was good-looking, in fact extremely handsome, but never, Xenia thought, had she seen a young man’s face with such an expression of cynicism combined with an aloof indifference that seemed to make him look as if he was scornful of everything and everybody.

  Yet she found his dark eyes strangely penetrating and she felt as if he looked at her to search for something beneath the surface, which he was quite certain that he would not find.

  He had reached her side before with an effort she remembered that she should curtsey to him.

  As she did so, he took her hand in his and must have known that her fingers were very cold and trembling.

  “Welcome to Luthenia, Xenia,” he said. “I deeply regret to hear that you had such an unfortunate experience before you left England.”

  Rising from her curtsey, she looked up at him. Then, because she was shyer than she imagined she could be, her eyes flickered and she looked away.

  “I was very – fortunate – not to be – injured,” she stammered.

  “The Count tells me that you were unconscious for a time. You must have been hit on the head.”

  Xenia knew that he had heard this from Mr. Donington and, because she thought it would excuse anything she did that might seem unusual, she replied,

  “I am all – right now – at least I think so.”

  The King released her hand.

  “Shall I tell you that despite what you have suffered you look extremely beautiful? Your gown and bonnet are very becoming.”

  “Thank – you.”

  Despite every resolution to behave naturally, Xenia could not prevent the colour from rising in her cheeks.

  It was not only that she was unused to compliments, it was the fact that the King was looking at her with his penetrating dark eyes and his voice was deeper than she had expected.

  Something in his tone made her feel as if she listened to him not only with her ears but also with her heart.

  “Well, we should have been here long enough to satisfy the sentimental yearnings of the populace for romance,” the King said abruptly in a different tone. “Are you ready to go?”

  He spoke so differently from the way he had just been speaking that Xenia looked at him in surprise.

  Then she said quickly,

  “Yes – of course. I am quite – ready.”

  The King opened the door and Madame Gyula and the Count came hurrying in.

  “Let’s get on with it, Horvath,” the King said, “and I hope there are enough soldiers on the route.”

  Xenia heard what he said, but not the Count’s answer and she had no time to ask what it meant because the King was obviously impatient.

  They stepped out onto the platform, the Guard of Honour came to attention, the band struck up the National Anthem and they stood side by side on a red carpet until it was finished.

  Cheers broke out from the crowd on the station, although Xenia realised that they were all persons of importance who had been specially invited to be present.

  A number of dignitaries were presented to her. Then they moved through the Guard of Honour and out of the station to a waiting carriage.

  She and the King were to travel alone in an open landau drawn by six grey horses, three of them ridden by postilions in elaborate gold uniforms.

  She remembered her mother telling her how she had behaved when she lived at home in Slovia, so Xenia waved her hand to the crowd and smiled.

  Her mother had said once,

  “Your grandmother used to think it familiar and undignified to smile and my father felt the same, but Dorottyn and I always smiled and waved. We felt something was wrong if the people in the crowd did not smile back.”

  “I am sure they loved you, Mama,” Xenia said.

  “Dorottyn and I used to believe they did, but sometimes I have wondered if Royalty like ourselves should have given more to the people. They do so much for us and perhaps we could have helped them in a dozen different ways. A smile is a poor return for a lifetime of service.”

  Her mother spoke very seriously and Xenia had not really understood or troubled her head about what she was saying.

  Now her words came back and Xenia smiled and waved as she thought a Princess should do and she felt, although she was not sure, that the crowd was pleased.

  The King made no effort to acknowled
ge the cheers, but lay back in a corner of the carriage looking, Xenia thought, as if he was bored with the whole proceeding.

  It was difficult for her to take her eyes from the crowd and look at the buildings they were passing, but she did notice that the trees lining the roadways were colourful with blossom.

  “It is very beautiful,” she exclaimed.

  “Beautiful?” the King questioned. “I remember you said that my country was small and insignificant and that, if you had the choice, you would prefer to live in France or England.”

  Xenia did not reply, but she wondered how Johanna could have been so disagreeable about the country she was to reign over.

  The horses turned off a square crowded with people and into another road.

  There were cheers and hand-waving for the first half of it, then suddenly the noise seemed to die down and the carriage moved a little quicker.

  Still waving Xenia saw a large number of unsmiling faces watching them in silence.

  They carried banners inscribed with words that she could not at first read, then some larger ones than the rest caught her eye.

  She read,

  DOWNTRODDEN AND DESPISED!

  She read the words in astonishment and saw another saying,

  WE DEMAND JUSTICE!

  Because there was no response to her waving hand, she dropped it into her lap.

  “What is wrong?” she asked the King. “Who are these people?”

  “A lot of revolutionary students,” he answered. “Ignore them.”

  Almost as if they heard his words, the students suddenly broke out into loud boos. There were also shouting and yelling in a manner that was obviously meant to be offensive.

  The coachman whipped up the horses and they were travelling much more quickly than before.

  But the hostile atmosphere on either side of them seemed to increase and Xenia felt afraid.

  She remembered stories that she had been told ever since she was a child of assassins who were pledged to exterminate the aristocracy and anarchists who threw bombs at Monarchs.

  Because it was so menacing and so unexpected, without really thinking what she was doing, she put out her hand and slipped it into the King’s.

  “Would they – hurt us?” she asked.