The Protection of Love Read online

  They rode for a very long way through the estate and then returned to The Manor feeling hungry for their luncheon.

  Richard suggested that he should take the Prince in the afternoon to look at some of the farms on the estate.

  Meta wanted to go too, but he said before she could propose it,

  “I think that you and Nathlia should now take it easy and, of course, talk to each other in English.”

  Nathlia gave a groan, but Meta said,

  “Of course we realise that we have to obey your orders, but I hope that you will both be back in time for tea.”

  “I have no intention,” the Prince said, “of missing an English tea and I promise you we will not be later than half past four.”

  He smiled at Meta as he spoke and she thought as he did so that he looked very much more attractive than when he was scowling.

  He seemed to be very light-hearted when they were riding and she thought that perhaps she had misjudged him somewhat.

  After all he was a foreigner and in, to him, a foreign land.

  It would be very foolish to expect him to behave as if he was an Englishman.

  It then struck her as rather strange that he was not seeking out his English relations and she thought that it was something she must ask Richard about when she had the opportunity.

  The two men went off again to the stables as soon as luncheon was over.

  Then Nathlia observed,

  “That is typical of men. They don’t want us with them and they throw us away as if we are old bags for which they have no further use.”

  “They will want us when they return,” Meta commented. “Now what about your lesson.”

  Nathlia made a grimace but she did try for about half an hour to talk in English.

  Meta found that on the whole Nathlia knew a good number of words.

  However, she clearly found the language boring because she had to talk slowly.

  When she was chattering away in French, she sounded exactly like any Parisienne.

  Meta’s father had told her that the French were very fast talkers, especially when they were excited about something.

  Because there was nothing else to do, the girls walked round the garden.

  Then they went to the ballroom. The housemaids had cleaned it and the gardeners were now bringing in a number of potted plants. And the footmen had already polished the floor.

  Nathlia twirled around on it and said at once that was exactly as she wanted it to be.

  “It will be lovely to dance tomorrow night,” she said excitedly.

  “Do you dance very much in Russia?” Meta asked her.

  “Mostly in our own house,” Nathlia replied, “because I was considered too young to go to the balls at the Winter Palace. I was allowed to peep at what was happening, but it was so frustrating.”

  “Your father and mother must have given parties for you at your home,” Meta insisted.

  There was a slight hesitation before Nathlia responded,

  “Yes, of course, there were children’s parties and, when I grew older, it was not so easy because Mama was ill and Papa was often away from home with the Czar for long periods of time.”

  Meta longed to ask Nathlia what she thought of Czar Alexander III and was he as bad and devious as the English thought him to be?

  She knew, however, it would be very indiscreet and Richard would certainly disapprove.

  She was silent and Nathlia said,

  “Please don’t let us talk about Russia. Now that I am in England I want to forget it and enjoy being here.”

  “That is what I want you to do,” Meta said.

  At the same time she wondered just why Nathlia wanted to forget Russia.

  What had happened there to upset her?

  It might be just because her mother had died, but she had a feeling that there was some deeper reason.

  Then, as she thought it over, she wondered whether perhaps Nathlia and the Prince were playing a very deep game.

  They had come to England as visitors.

  If, as the Queen suspected, they were spying, it would be clever on their part to pretend that they had come away from Russia because they did not like living there.

  It all seemed to be a bit complicated, but then Meta was suspicious.

  She did not get a chance to talk to Richard alone until after they had gone up to bed.

  The men had ridden a long way in the afternoon and arrived back very late for tea.

  Richard had taken the Prince to see the owner of a famous stud and he thought that there was just a chance that he might have some horses to sell and he had been right.

  The Prince had been able to buy four outstanding hunters and the grooms were to deliver them some time the following day.

  Both Richard and the Prince were elated having brought off what they thought was an excellent coup.

  It made them late for tea and dinner was put back for an hour to give them more time between the two meals.

  At eleven o’clock the two girls said they were going up to bed.

  As Nathlia kissed her brother goodnight, Meta whispered to Richard,

  “Come and see me later.”

  He nodded his head slightly, but she knew that he would not fail her.

  It was, however, nearly three quarters of an hour later before he came to her bedroom.

  He was undressed and wearing a dark military-looking robe.

  Meta guessed that he was hoping that the Prince would have gone to sleep by now.

  Richard closed her bedroom door carefully behind him and sat down on the side of the bed.

  “I am not going to stay long,” he began. “I am tired and you have a busy day in front of you tomorrow.”

  “I know,” Meta replied. “I just wondered if you have anything to tell me.”

  “Nothing in particular,” Richard replied.

  “I was thinking,” Meta said, “it was rather strange that they have come to England and are making no attempt to get in touch with their mother’s relations.”

  “I thought the same, but the Prince told me that their grandfather, the old Prince, is dead and the son who has now inherited the title was not in the least fond of his sister and had never communicated with her.”

  That seemed to Meta a reasonable explanation.

  Then she said,

  “Nathlia talks as if she was very glad to get away from Russia. I wonder if that was just a pretence to deceive you and me into thinking that they had no ulterior motive for coming to England?”

  Richard stared at her.

  “I had not thought of that,” he said. “But it seems rather far-fetched to me.”

  “Then so far there is nothing to report,” Meta said, “except I feel that the Prince is hiding something, although I don’t know what it is.”

  “Why do you think that?” Richard asked sharply.

  “I cannot explain,” Meta replied. “I just feel it ‘in my bones’ as Nanny used to say.”

  “I have great faith in your ‘bones’, as you call them,” Richard said. “So if you have any more feelings, come and tell me at once. We cannot be too careful.”

  “I suppose,” Meta said slowly, “Her Majesty will want a report from time to time.”

  “She will receive that from the Prime Minister if I have anything to tell him,” Richard replied. “At the moment I have nothing.”

  “It is far too soon to worry about that,” Meta suggested.

  She put her arms round her brother’s neck and pulled his head down so that she could kiss his cheek.

  “Go to bed and don’t worry,” she said. “Just count up the large rent we are getting for all this.”

  “I have not forgotten and I am much looking forward to riding the new horses. You will be thrilled when you see them.”

  “That is so much more important than wondering if we are being spied upon or having to do any spying ourselves,” Meta observed a little sarcastically.

  Richard did not reply.


  He reached the door and turned to wave before he went out into the passage, shutting it very quietly behind him.

  It did seem rather strange that he should be creeping about in his own house.

  Meta knew, however, that it was absolutely essential that neither the Prince nor Nathlia should think that she or Richard were suspicious of them.

  Before she fell fast asleep she told herself that perhaps the whole thing was really a lot of nonsense.

  The Prime Minister and the Queen were more than likely making a fuss about nothing.

  *

  Early the next morning Meta had dressed herself and was wearing her riding clothes.

  Then there was a knock on the door.

  As she was nearly ready, she called out,

  “Come in.”

  To her surprise, it was Bell.

  “Can I have a word with you, Miss Meta?” he enquired.

  “Yes, of course,” Meta answered. “Is anything wrong?”

  Bell closed the door and then came over to where she was sitting in front of the dressing table.

  “I didn’t have a chance, miss, of tellin’ you last night, but somethin’ strange happened in the afternoon.”

  “What was that?” Meta asked him.

  “A young man comes to the door,” Bell began, “and says he hears that I be lookin’ for another footman.”

  “I thought you had said that you had someone coming,” Meta said.

  “I have,” Bell replied. “The man I’m thinkin’ of comes home tomorrow and his mother and father are real glad at the idea of him comin’ up to work at The Manor.”

  “Then who was this other man who applied for the post?” Meta enquired.

  “It be someone I’ve never seen before,” Bell answered, “but he was ever so insistent that I should take him on. In fact, Miss Meta, he tried to bribe me.”

  Meta looked at the butler in astonishment.

  “Tried to bribe you!” she exclaimed. “What did he say?”

  “He says to me, he says,” Bell answered, “‘I wants this position. I’m ever so experienced and you’ll be real sorry if you don’t have me. I’ll give you half me wages every week if you takes me on’.”

  “I have never heard of anything so extraordinary,” Meta said. “What did you say then?”

  “Well, I thinks to meself, Miss Meta, that there was somethin’ peculiar about any young man who’ll play fast and loose with his wages like that. I thinks also he was too smart and too smooth to get on with the other footmen I have engaged.”

  “That was clever of you, Bell,” Meta said. “Sir Richard does not want strangers in the house.”

  “That is what he says to me, miss,” Bell said with satisfaction. “So I tells this young man I doesn’t want him.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He turns a bit nasty, miss. ‘You’ll be sorry in more ways than one,’ he says, ‘that you have refused my offer. Come on and change your mind and do yourself a good turn’.”

  Meta drew in her breath.

  “It seems very strange that he should behave in such a way. Was he English?”

  “Funny you should say that, Miss Meta,” Bell replied. “He looked all right, but there be somethin’ about him that made me thinks he might be one of those foreigners.”

  Meta said little more.

  She just told Bell that he had been absolutely right in not allowing anyone so odd into the house.

  At the same time she was quite certain that the man had an ulterior motive in wanting the job.

  Was it because he could help the Prince in some way or was he in fact spying on him?

  It all seemed so complicated and so she thought for a moment that she would not worry Richard with it.

  Bell had sent the man away and there was nothing more he could do unless, of course, he was a burglar and then she was quite certain that if he had been a burglar he would not come bowling up to the front door nor would he try to bribe himself into the house.

  ‘I am sure he must be a Russian,’ she told herself.

  Because there was no chance of her seeing the man, it was stupid to worry about him.

  After they had eaten breakfast they went riding.

  When they came back, Meta had to make a list of the people who were coming to dinner. She also had to ask Mrs. Bell what she was giving them to eat.

  As she was going into the kitchen, she persuaded Nathlia to go with her.

  Not only were the kitchen staff thrilled to meet a Princess but Nathlia was delighted with the kitchen itself.

  “It is just as I expected an English kitchen to be like,” she enthused.

  She was looking at the big stove as she spoke and at the game that hung from one of the beams.

  There were several ducks, two or three rabbits, a large ham and a collection of onions.

  “Mama told me that English kitchens always have food hung up in that strange manner,” Nathlia said excitedly, “and now I can see it for myself.”

  Meta took her to see the great bowls of milk where cream was forming and Mrs. Bell would add it to a number of her dishes.

  Then they went out through the back door, which led them towards the stables.

  “I want to look at those horses again,” Meta said, “but I expect your brother and Richard have taken the two best.”

  “You can be really sure of that,” Nathlia answered. “Alexis always won all the riding competitions that took place in St. Petersburg. He has many gold cups for winning races.”

  “You must be very proud of him,” Meta said.

  “Of course I am,” Nathlia smiled.

  It seemed odd to Meta that, if the Prince was in reality such a great success in Russia, why would he want to come away to another country.

  Richard had said that they had come to England only for a visit.

  She was, however, quite certain from the way Nathlia spoke that they intended to settle down here and not return to Russia.

  Nathlia did not say it in so many words, but she implied it.

  She kept talking as if Russia was in the past and now her life was entirely concerned with being in England.

  Then Meta had to see the other side of the picture.

  She wondered if that was just something the Russians wanted them to think so that never for a moment would they believe that they were spying on the English.

  ‘It was all too complicated,’ she thought. ‘A twisted idea that might have come from the Czar himself.’

  Who could expect anything else from a man who was behaving in such an extraordinary way in the Balkans?

  She had not forgotten all that Richard had told her, how Agents went about in disguise so that they could stir up as much trouble as they could.

  It was therefore reasonable to think that Prince Alexis might also be in disguise.

  What could be more natural to the English than for a man who was such a good rider to want to hunt with one of the very best packs in the country? And to ingratiate himself with the right people, it would be a sensible thing to rent a house like The Manor.

  He would become friendly with its owners and their friends would trust him implicitly.

  In a way it was very plausible.

  Yet when Meta thought it all over, it seemed weird that the Prince and his sister should behave as if they had no desire to return to Russia.

  ‘They are so charming – could they really be acting? There is something behind all this,’ Meta said to herself and felt a strange urge within her to get to the bottom of it all.

  “Why do you not want to see your mother’s relations?” she then asked Nathlia when they were alone. “I know that they live a long way away in the North, but the Duke of Cambria is a very important person.”

  “I would like to meet him,” Nathlia said, “but Alexis is so eager to be where the hunting is good and people are interested in horses. That is why we have come to Leicestershire.”

  “And we are delighted to welcome you,” Meta managed t
o smile.

  “Are you really?” Nathlia enquired. “Or is it just because Alexis is paying you a very big rent for having us in your lovely house?”

  “What makes you think that is the reason?” Meta asked.

  “I think someone told Alexis that your brother was hard-up,” Nathlia answered.

  They were talking in French and she was speaking very quickly as she went on,

  “I cannot remember who it was, but anyway he made enquiries about why you should want to take us into your home and told Alexis that it was the reason.”

  Meta said nothing.

  However she made a note in her mind that the Prince had been making enquiries about Richard.

  He had been only a short time in England so he must have been clever to have found out that they were feeling the pinch after their father’s and mother’s deaths.

  Or was there another reason for him coming to The Manor?

  She was very certain from what the Prince had said that he had not so far met any of their neighbours and he surely had no knowledge of the families whose sons and daughters were coming to dinner that night.

  As Nathlia wanted to dance, Meta had asked only the young people to be their guests.

  She explained in her invitations that it was just a small dinner party at which they would dance afterwards.

  She had put the list of names down on a desk in the drawing room, intending to show it to Richard.

  When she next came into the room, she saw the Prince reading it.

  “That is our dinner party list for tonight,” she then informed him. “Perhaps I had better explain to you who our guests are.”

  She stood beside him and pointed to each name and saying,

  “Now he is the son of the Lord Lieutenant, who is the Marquis of Evenstock. She is the youngest daughter of the Earl of Everley – ”

  Meta went down the whole list and, when she reached the end, the Prince said,

  “I have not met any of those people before and, of course, I shall be delighted to make their acquaintance.”

  He spoke quite casually.

  Yet again, as if she was reading his thoughts, Meta felt that he was I fact relieved that they were all strangers to him.

  ‘This must mean,’ she mused, ‘that if, as Richard had thought, he was a spy, there was no one coming to the house who could in any way prove an embarrassment by having known him in the past.’