Chapter Fifty-Two

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

T he decision had been made that Nikolai would not attend the dinner with Crown Prince Stefan and the Prince of Wales, and Grace, so near to her due date now, had decided to stay at home with him and Dixon. Tom drove Stella, and Jack drove Lillian in her touring car.

‘Will she come tomorrow, Stella?’ Tom asked.

‘Sally?’ Stella asked. ‘I hope so.’ Then she turned her head and looked out of the car window as the summer evening unrolled over the fields lining the route from Lassiter Court to Joe’s palace. ‘Agnes tells me Joe’s been fretting about the menu all week. Is your mother attending?’

‘She is,’ Tom said. ‘Also a bishop, the mayor and the chairman of the chamber of commerce, so Constance won’t even spare us a look.’

Joseph P. Allerdyce greeted them at the door, shining with polish and pride. Joe’s sons, the children of his first marriage, were in attendance, and ran Joe’s messages and instructions to the kitchen and waiting staff, while Agnes steadied his nerves and made sure he actually enjoyed himself.

The prince, who jogged down the stairs when they were all assembled, reminded Jack of Lancelot Drake, who would arrive tomorrow afternoon to take part in the judging. It was not simply that he was good-looking – though he was, with thick blond hair and a strong jawline – but he had a certain sort of magnetism, a mysterious ability to draw the eye. He accepted the bows and courtesies due to him, then stuck his hands in his pockets, grinned, and flirted outrageously with everyone in the room, from Agnes to Stella, Joe to the bishop.

Crown Prince Stefan, when he made his appearance, was a different kettle of royal fish. He was much younger than Jack had expected – hardly out of his teens – and was dressed in a quasi-military uniform which seemed to swamp him entirely. That number of medals on the chest of a young man whose military experience most likely consisted of sitting on a horse, while soldiers marched around in front of him, was a little much. He had an unfortunately narrow chin, and skin as pale as dirty milk.

The Prince of Wales was standing next to Jack as the Crown Prince descended the curving stairs, flanked by two men with snow-white moustaches, and high collars on their military jackets.

There was no sign of Vladimir Taargin, and Jack did not spot among the entourage any of the other men who had created a fracas at the wedding.

‘What’s he like, Sir?’ Jack asked as they observed Stefan descending.

The prince shrugged. ‘The Crown Prince? Oh, pleasant enough. Green, though, and rather unsure of himself. I think his people are hoping he’ll pick up a few tips on the whole princeing lark from yours truly. You’ve heard the king’s brother is a bit of a case?’

Jack nodded. ‘A little, from Nikolai Kuznetsov, sir.’

‘Ah yes, the rabble-rouser. My equerry Osman mentions him a lot. He is my personal expert on all things Marakovian.’

‘Every home should have one. Any particular insights, sir?’

The prince chuckled. ‘No. In my not uninformed opinion, it will all depend on the magic moment when Stefan becomes king. Some people . . . Well, it sort of settles on them and they flower into it. Others crumble. Too early to know with poor Stefan. I have no doubt he loves his people and country, and takes becoming king very seriously, but he lacks a certain sense of style, and a sense of style is helpful when you have to go around being head of state. I only just persuaded him to stop wearing his sword to dinner.’

‘Too militaristic, sir?’

‘Too cumbersome. He kept tripping over it, which does not inspire confidence. And he’s lonely. Couple of his friends who were supposed to come on this trip were held back at the border. Visa problems. They sent a pair of stiffs who seem to belong to Prince Andrei’s camp. Stefan resents them. But “sulky” is not a good look on a royal.’

Jack nodded, watching the Crown Prince being introduced to Constance Lassiter. She performed a deep curtsey which suggested practice. ‘And how were your visits today, Sir? Are you enjoying Highbridge?’

‘Yes, and I like this house.’ He looked around at the white walls, high windows, and carefully placed modern artworks with real pleasure. ‘Stefan and I are having a bit of a rest tomorrow, and Joe has offered us the use of his tennis court. I’m also looking forward to your pageant.’

‘And today?’

‘Good parts and bad. That woman has a rather slippery way about her.’

‘Constance Lassiter, you mean?’

He nodded. ‘I ummed and aahed my way through a lot of machinery, but then we went to that record place of yours, and that was a great deal more jolly!’

‘It’s Tom’s factory, sir.’

‘Oh, yes – smart boy. We were shown the microphones, and Stefan and I both recited poetry into them. They cut a disc of it right there, and before we’d finished our tea and cake we both had a copy to take home.’

‘Might we sell that, sir?’

‘Ha! Nice try, Treadwell. My most fearsome equerry had them scrape the master before we left. But I can assure you there were some very fetching pictures taken of me listening to records and standing outside with the Empire Records sign in shot. How’s that?’

‘Very good of you, sir.’

The prince polished off his cocktail. ‘Now, how is your wife? I’m sorry not to meet her. I understand she’s on the point of having a baby, but will be running the show tomorrow. Is that correct?’

‘It is, sir!’

‘I’m very well briefed.’

Dinner was excellent, and soon after pudding the Crown Prince thanked his host and retired to bed. His entourage scattered to their quarters, and the majority of the guests offered obeisance to the Prince of Wales and departed with his blessing – including Constance, who, Jack believed, had not spoken to her son all evening. Then Jack thought of Ruby. Tom hadn’t lacked for love in the end.

‘You don’t want to go to bed, do you?’ the prince complained. ‘I was assured you were theatre folk.’

‘Certainly not, sir,’ Agnes said. ‘A friend of Lillian’s has recommended a late evening cocktail called the Second Wind. Shall I have Joe’s people whip up a batch?’

‘Oh, do, Agnes. And Miss Stanmore, might you entertain us again?’

‘I can do that and have a cocktail, thanks to these darling new gramophone records, sir. Joe, dear, will we wake Prince Stefan if we have some music?’

‘Doors and carpets thick as castle walls,’ Joe replied. ‘Play whatever you like.’

The cocktails proved worthy of their name. Half an hour later the Prince of Wales was dancing with Stella, Joe with Agnes, and Lillian with her son. The equerries had to make do with dancing with each other. Everything everybody said seemed terribly witty.

‘Is Grace sorry not to come?’ Lillian asked. ‘It’s quite a thing to have a party with the Prince of Wales.’

Jack swung her round. ‘She laughed when I suggested it. No, I think she’s happier at home. She’s been trying to get as much of the new play done as she can before the birth, as well as putting together the show.’

They fell into an easy rhythm, a simple foxtrot that kept them out of the way of the prince’s more flamboyant moves.

Jack saw Lillian was looking down and smiling. ‘Very well, Lillian, I admit it. You were right about Nikolai, and so was Grace. From what she tells me, he can be terribly critical, but she seems absolutely thrilled about it.’

Lillian shrugged. ‘When I was dancing on stage, dear, people telling me what an angel I was felt very nice, but it was nothing to compare with a really great dancer telling me how to improve.’

He nodded. ‘He’s a great writer. I’m beginning to think you’re the lucky one in that marriage.’

She laughed – a deep throaty laugh with her head thrown back. ‘Are you happy with the pageant, Jack?’

He nodded. ‘We have a nice selection of acts. Stella is insisting on holding a spot for Sally Blow. If she doesn’t show, we’ll simply give Stella an extra number. Are you looking forward to performing?’

‘I am. I have a stunning dress, and Grace has arranged for a group of quite charming schoolchildren to sing the final chorus with us.’

‘Excellent. Now all I have to worry about is Harry. I know he and Dixon are in cahoots, but I don’t trust him. He comes and squeaks under my desk whenever it’s quiet. Does he ever do that to you?’

‘No, dear, he knows he won’t get a rise out of me.’

‘The way you all talk about him is infuriating sometimes. He’s a rat!’

‘A theatrical rat,’ Lillian said.

‘And now you’re laughing at me!’

‘Well, of course I am.’

A whistle sounded shrilly in the darkness outside. They all turned towards the sound, which was coming from the lawns.

‘What the . . .?’ Joe said. They could hear shouting now, too. ‘Agnes, if you’d be so kind.’

Agnes opened a small panel on the wall behind the gramophone and flicked a pair of switches. The lawns between the wide windows and lake were immediately flooded with light. There were a number of men outside, indistinct in the distance, but the noises and postures all suggested violence.

‘If you would stay here, Your Highness?’ a chestnut-haired equerry said.

‘Don’t “Your Highness” me, Osman. We’re all going.’ The prince picked up his dinner jacket and picked up a lit cigarette from the ashtray as Joe pushed open the French windows, and the whole party walked across the neatly trimmed lawn.

It was the Marakovians. One of the older moustachioed ones had the Crown Prince by the arm and was hectoring him. Two of the younger ones were holding another man between them. He looked up as they approached. His hair was dishevelled, and his nose was bleeding.

‘Nikolai!’ Lillian cried out, kicking off her heels and running towards him in her stockinged feet.

The other moustachioed man stepped between them.

‘Kuznetsov was discovered in an attempt to kidnap Prince Stefan!’ he shouted at her. ‘Torn from his bed. Dragged into the woods!’

‘Poppycock!’ Lillian said.

The man between her and her husband looked alarmed.

‘Prince Stefan,’ Joe said very slowly, and loudly enough to drown out further discussion, ‘as I’m sure he’ll confirm, asked my butler about the best path to take from the house to the woods. Something about wanting to hear a nightingale, I understand.’

‘And why were we not informed?’ the man still holding Prince Stefan’s arm asked.

Joe blinked at him and blew over the glowing end of his cigar before replying. ‘Because the prince is a grown man and can go birdwatching whenever he bloody chooses.’

‘You do seem well wrapped up for someone ripped from their bed, Stefan,’ the Prince of Wales said conversationally. ‘Couldn’t sleep?’

The Crown Prince hesitated. ‘Yes, that’s it, David. It is as Mr Allerdyce said. I thought a little night air, then I ran into cousin Nikolai. My people, I think, misunderstood the situation. Torstein,’ he said, freeing himself from the man who held his arm and speaking with a little more confidence, ‘you misunderstood.’

‘But this man is trespassing,’ Torstein said, pointing at Nikolai.

‘Wrong again,’ said Joe. ‘Nikolai is a friend. As such, he’s always welcome here. He was not invited to dinner, as per your instructions, but that does not make him a trespasser.’

‘Most certainly not,’ Agnes added as Joe blew a stream of smoke into the chilly night air. ‘Good evening, Nikolai.’

‘Good evening, Agnes, Joe,’ Nikolai replied.

‘Well, that’s all sorted out, then,’ the Prince of Wales said, rubbing his hands together. ‘Shall we have another drink?’

‘I think my husband and I shall return home,’ Lillian said. Osman had fetched her shoes from further up the lawn. She stepped into them.

‘I’ll drive you both, Lillian,’ Jack said.

She looked pale, but perfectly composed again in the moonlight.

‘Joe, thank you for a wonderful evening. Absolutely superb food,’ Lillian told him.

‘Very well, but Stella,’ the prince said in a tone of appeal, ‘you and Tom will stay up with us a little longer, won’t you?’

‘Of course, sir,’ Stella said promptly.

‘And you, Stefan,’ the prince added kindly. ‘If you cannot sleep, perhaps you would like to join us?’

‘I’m sure His Highness is exhausted,’ Torstein said through gritted teeth as the younger Marakovians released Nikolai. He walked stiffly over to Lillian.

‘I . . . I am tired,’ Stefan said, then straightened up a little. ‘Goodnight, cousin Nikolai. I am glad we had the chance to speak, and I look forward to the performance tomorrow.’

Nikolai looked at him. ‘I, too, am glad we had a chance to speak. I wish you well, from the bottom of my heart.’

‘Stefan was observed leaving the house,’ Nikolai explained. He was sitting in the back seat with Lillian and had a handkerchief held to his nose. ‘We met as arranged, but we only had a few minutes.’

‘I’m just glad you aren’t hurt any worse than you are, Nikolai,’ Lillian said softly.

‘Lillian . . .’ His voice became soft, and Jack stared fixedly out of the windscreen at the road in front of him. The night air was full of the scents of summer: ripening hay and dog roses. ‘Stefan is young, but he knows these dictatorial impulses of his uncle and his supporters are wrong. He has withstood great pressures from them, in silence, unsupported, isolated.’

‘It’s good you were able to meet,’ Lillian said sincerely. ‘It must have made a great difference to him.’

They were within the grounds of Lassiter Court now, the headlights turning the grasses lining the road silvery. ‘The king is in poor health,’ Nikolai continued with some hesitation. ‘Lillian, Stefan asked me if I would be willing to return to Marakovia to act as his advisor when he comes to the throne.’

Jack heard Lillian gasp – a shocked exhalation – as he brought the car to a halt in front of the house and switched off the engine.

‘But, Nikolai . . .’ Lillian said. ‘No! We live here. Jack is here. Grace is about to have a baby.’

‘My dearest, I know. Lillian, the first months of Stefan’s reign, when it comes, will be busy, and dangerous in Marakovia. I must do as I am asked and assist him, but for some time at least, you should remain here.’

‘What? Nikolai, you mean to desert me?’

‘Only for as long as I can bear it. I cannot refuse to go. I cannot take you with me.’

‘You married me,’ Lillian exclaimed. ‘There were vows, Nikolai!’

‘You and I are never parted, Lillian, never,’ he said fiercely, taking her hands. ‘I shall be your husband, proudly so, every day until my death. But exile is a terrible thing. Let me make my country safe for you, and then let me teach you to love it as I do. We will come back to Highbridge, again and again, for months at a time until your grandchildren wear you out, but I made another vow, when I was eighteen, Lillian. To serve my king, and my prince. Please, do not make me betray it.’

Lillian pulled her hands free, opened the door and slammed it behind her, then marched into the house without saying anything else. Nikolai reached for the handle.

‘Wait, Nikolai,’ Jack said, and he paused. ‘Give her a few moments. You just dropped a bombshell there. Wait for the ringing in her ears to stop before you try and talk to her.’

Nikolai leant back in his seat and sighed. ‘Military talk. I forget, sometimes, you served in the Great War, Jack.’ Jack said nothing, but just listened to the tick of metal as the engine cooled. ‘It is to prevent such things happening again that I must go back.’

Images of the trenches – a sudden wave of compounded horrors – passed in front of Jack’s eyes, then faded. ‘Do you really think one man has the power to stop that?’

‘No, of course not,’ Nikolai said with a deep sigh. ‘But I must do whatever I can. Stefan will need help negotiating our strange times at home and abroad. He has asked for mine.’

‘The Prince of Wales said something about the moment he becomes king being the important one,’ Jack said.

‘He is probably right. Hopefully that will not be for some time. I hope I reinforced the song of his better angels this evening, but he is terribly alone. We forget sometimes, among our friends, the loneliness of kings.’

In the distance an owl hooted, then the silence gathered around them again. Jack glanced at his watch. ‘It’s been five minutes. Probably safe to go and talk to Lillian now. Any longer and it will look as if you’re avoiding her.’ The moon was high in the night sky, and full, shaming the stars. ‘You do love her, don’t you?’

‘With all my heart.’

‘I’d lead with that. Then how you’ll have her join you as soon as possible, how you’ll look forward to the months you’ll spend in Highbridge.’

‘That is good advice. Thank you, Jack.’

‘Get her to forgive you before tomorrow evening. The waltz section of “The Sunrise Song” will not go well if she hasn’t.’

Nikolai laughed softly, climbed out of the car and followed his wife. Jack watched him go inside, switched on the engine again, and returned to Joe’s mansion.