How could he have ever for a moment thought she might make a suitable wife? Well, she had seemed so calm, so docile, so biddable.
He led her to an iron bench by the Serpentine and dusted it before they sat down. There was a crackling and a rustling in the bushes behind him, and Miss Barchester looked around nervously.
“Probably a dog,” said Lord Arthur.
Mr. Palfrey scrunched down in the bushes and strained his ears.
In a flat voice, Lord Arthur proceeded to tell Miss Barchester that he wished to terminate their engagement.
She heard him in silence and then said, “You will soon come to your senses. In any case, I refuse to release you.”
“Even when you know this marriage would now make me unhappy?”
“Although you are not a young man,” said Miss Barchester coyly, “I fear the company of a certain princess has turned your head. Now, do be sensible. I am sure you do not want a scandal. Gentlemen are like little boys. They never seem to know their own minds-which is why we ladies must make the decisions for them. Don't be silly, Lord Arthur. We are going to be married, and you have nothing to say in the matter.”
“Madam! You have just persuaded me to go to any lengths to be free of you. Come, I shall escort you back to your parents.”
“I prefer to stay here. It is pleasant.”
“Then, stay by yourself,” said Lord Arthur wrathfully, and, getting to his feet, he strode off.
He went straight back to the Crillon, up the stairs, and into the drawing room.
Mr. Barchester rubbed his chubby hands when he saw his face. “Have some more wine, dear boy!” he cried. “And let us discuss the new stables.”
Miss Barchester screamed as a dandified, middle-aged man crashed out of the bushes behind her.
“Hush, dear lady,” he said. “I am here to help you. Lord Arthur Bessamy was at the opera t'other night with a young lady calling herself Princess Felicity of Brasnia.”
The scream for help died stillborn on Miss Barchester's thin lips.
“Who are you?” she demanded sharply.
Mr. Palfrey came around and sat down beside her. “Let me explain…” he began.
Chapter Nine
“Do you know,” said Dolph, as he and Lord Arthur bowled along the Brighton Road, “I met an old tutor of mine from Oxford. Asked him about Brasnia and he said he had never heard of it.”
“Odd, the ignorance of some of those Oxford dons,” said Lord Arthur. “Come to think of it, it's quite disgraceful.”
“But he's a clever chap. Everybody says so. Now,you tell me. Where's Brasnia?”
“It is up near the Arctic Circle,” said Lord Arthur. “Quite a small country, very savage, full of polar bears and…”
“What kind of bears?”
“White. All over. So that they can hide themselves in the snow. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, the inhabitants live in mansions carved out of ice in the winter, and, in the summer, they live in tents made out of reindeer skin.”
“But don't they have cities… towns? I mean doesn't the princess have a castle?”
“Of course she does. A white castle with long, glittering icicles hanging from the towers. It was built in the thirteenth century by Georgi the Horrible. He kept four maidens locked up at one time, which is why the castle has four tall towers. When he had… er… had his way with them, he fed them to his pet bears.”
“The white ones?” said Dolph suspiciously.
“Except when they fed on the maidens. Then they turned a delicate, rosy pink.”
“They must be very well-educated people. I mean, Miss Chubiski speaks English very well.”
“Yes, she does, doesn't she. Alas, it is only the aristocracy who can enjoy the benefits of education. There is no middle class-only aristocracy and peasants. The peasants are illiterate to a man.”
“Look here, don't tell me the shopkeepers are all aristocrats. How do they keep the books?”
“They don't. The price of each article is indicated by so many stamps of the foot, rather like that educated pig at Bartholomew Fair.”
“What if something cost a hundred guineas? The shopkeeper would have a sore foot before he got the price out. And what about pounds, shillings, and pence?”
“My dear, dear Dolph, Nothing so complicated. It is a very poor country, so they don't have anything at all that costs over the equivalent of one pound. They have only a small coin called a secrudo, made of tin.”
“Why do I get the feeling you're talking rubbish?” said Dolph. “Go on. Tell me about the ruler.”
“The king is…”
“Now, wait a minute, you told Prinny that Brasnia was a principality.”
“So I did, and I made the whole thing up then. Now you are hearing the real truth. King Georgi the Fourth, is Princess Felicity's uncle. He poisoned his queen because he wanted to keep up the family tradition of incarcerating maidens in the four towers and subsequently feeding them to the bears. He… Dolph, this is all very interesting, and you keep twisting your head about.”
“Well, it's a funny thing, but I was getting a nasty, prickling feeling in the back of my neck. I thought it was because you were prosing on about maidens being fed to bears. But I turned about and took a glance down the road behind. There's a traveling carriage, and as I looked, a head popped out the window and the passenger yelled something to the driver. I only caught a glimpse, but it looked horribly like that Mr. Palfrey.”
“More than likely. I was unfortunate enough to meet him at the opera last night. We'll shake him loose. Long roundabout journey to Brighton, I am afraid.”
Lord Arthur turned off the Brighton road and drove some ten miles to where Lord Achesham, a friend of his father's, had a mansion. His lordship was not at home, but his butler was delighted to receive a hefty tip to show them the back way out of the estate, and then to tell anyone asking for them that they were guests of Lord Achesham and would be staying for some time. And if an impertinent fellow should inquire after a certain Princess Felicity, the butler was to say that she, too, was in residence. If he insisted on seeing the princess, he was to be shown out.
Felicity had told John Tremayne not to use her fake title when he rented a house. She had no wish to be brought to the attention of the worthies of Brighton. It had proved remarkably easy for John to find a suitable residence large enough for Felicity and her staff. Until the end of the Season, Brighton was a quiet place. In June, when the Prince arrived with his court and followers, it would spring into life.
It was wonderful to settle down into relative anonymity. She often thought of Lord Arthur, but distance from him had given her courage. A man who was engaged to one lady, and yet could kiss another, was not a gentleman.
A few callers had tried to leave cards with Miss Chubb-Felicity having made the governess take the house in her name-as a certain interest had been provoked in the lady who had taken one of the largest houses in Brighton. But gloomy Spinks had told them all that Miss Chubb did not wish to see anyone. The advantage of renting a house complete with furniture and arriving with a highly trained staff meant Felicity had been able to settle in almost immediately.
No callersto Spinks also included Lord Arthur Bessamy and Mr. Charles Godolphin, who arrived on the doorstep three days after Felicity's arrival, it having taken them the whole of the previous day to track her down.
Lord Arthur, however, insisted on leaving his card, and that was to cause ructions. Felicity, determined to be good, might not have decided to see him had not both Miss Chubb and Mr. Silver cried out against the very idea. Now Mr. Silver, that assiduous reader of newspapers, could have told his young mistress that an announcement of the termination of Lord Arthur's engagement had just appeared in theTimes. But it was not Lord Arthur he distrusted so much as Dolph, and so he deliberately did not tell her. Felicity herself rarely read the newspapers, finding the long tales of war in the Spanish peninsula frightening and depressing, and the social gossip a mixture of malice and trivia. But Miss Chubb and Mr. Silver's orders that she must not have anything more to do with Lord Arthur set up a spirit of perversity in Felicity. The memory of that kiss was achingly sweet. She was frightened at the idea of the approaching visit to the Queen's drawing room and craved the reassurance of Lord Arthur's presence.