A Scandalous Adventure (5 page)

While the general instructed Olivia in the protocol of Hechingen and those bits of history that even Princess Mila would be expected to know, Susannah hovered over them. This, Max decided, would not do. She was making her friend nervous, and the general's temper was beginning to fray.

“You are not needed here,” he said. “Come for a walk with me. The fresh mountain air will blow your worries away.”

Susannah allowed herself to be led, but continued to look distressed, even when they reached the lake. Max tucked her hand under his arm and began the walk along the path circling the water. She seemed to be sufficiently agitated to run the entire circuit, so he made his pace deliberate to slow her down.

“It is not a race, you know,” he told her.

“Isn't it?” She stopped completely and stared across the lake at the road they had come on, the road that would lead them away tomorrow. “We may all be racing headlong toward disaster. Olivia will never master all that history.”

“No? She did not seem to be having any difficulty that I could see.”

“She always hated lessons.”

He could see the uncertainty on Susannah's face. “Perhaps this time she is having lessons that she wants to master.”

“She doesn't seem to realize the danger she faces—the danger we all face. And you are the same. You treat this all as a joke. How can you?”

“Why not? Will it change anything if I put on a long face and say
tsk-tsk
all the time?”

She stopped and glared at him. “Is that what you think I am doing?”

Max didn't say anything, but he answered her glare with a smile. She was adorable, but she took things much too seriously. He answered her with a question. “Do you think smiling will make things more dangerous?”

“You don't understand.” Susannah turned away and waved a hand at the schloss. “Olivia and Aunt Augusta, they're my responsibility. I'm expected to keep them safe and out of trouble.”

“That is a great deal of responsibility for such a young lady.” He tried to sound serious, but he wanted to laugh. No matter what she thought, he doubted anyone expected a pretty girl like her to be responsible for anything more than choosing a bonnet.

She looked annoyed. “Well, I'm a very responsible person. Everyone in my family says so. And those two need looking after.”

That he could believe, but Susannah needed to be looked after as well. How could their families have sent these ladies off on a trip without a man to take care of them? Max shook his head. She was fortunate that he was here to see to her protection. “Well, you do not need to worry. I will make sure that none of you come to harm.”

She looked even more annoyed at that. Did she think he was unable to take care of three women? He smiled to reassure her. “Come, let us forget all these worries. Let us pretend you have just come for an ordinary visit and we are out enjoying the sunshine. It is a pleasant day, is it not? Warm for this time of year.”

She looked at him as if he had suddenly lost his mind.

His smile turned into a grin. “Is that not what a proper Englishman would do? Talk about the weather?”

Her annoyance dissolved into reluctant laughter. “Yes,” she said when she recovered, “very proper indeed. All right then, let's pretend we are not engaged in a lunatic enterprise and just stroll about admiring the scenery.”

Max tucked her hand under his arm again, and this time Susannah relaxed and walked comfortably beside him. It had been a while since he had walked for pleasure with a pretty girl. He had almost forgotten how enjoyable it could be. If she was laying her worries aside for the moment, so was he. Neither of them spoke for a while, but the silence was companionable.

She broke it eventually. “Your mountains are very impressive and dramatic. They surround us, and I keep wondering if they are protecting us or imprisoning us.” She interrupted herself with a smile. “You mustn't mind me. It's only that I've never seen mountains before.”

“Never seen them?” He was startled, but then he thought about it. “Of course. That sounds strange to me because I have seen these mountains every day of my life. But in England there are not high mountains, only hills. Am I right?”

She nodded. “And where I live, even the cliffs leading down to the sea are not all that high.”

“You live near the sea? Then we are even. You have never seen mountains, and I have never seen the sea.”

“Really?” Susannah stopped and stared at him. “You've never been to the ocean?”

She was looking at him with wide-opened eyes, eyes of such a deep blue. Darker than the sky. Was the ocean that color? “Consider where we are, Suse. In the middle of mountains in the middle of Europe. There is no seashore in my country.”

“Yes, but you are a man. You can travel any time you want to.” There was a note of envy in her voice.

Max shook his head, wishing that were true. “No, I have too many responsibilities.”

“Yes, I know,” she sighed. “To the prince.”

He shrugged. “Not just to the prince. I have aunts and uncles and sisters and cousins. You would not believe how many cousins I have.” He rolled his eyes in mock horror. “And somehow I am responsible for all of them.”

He had made her laugh again. “Well, I do not have any cousins,” she said, “except very distant ones, but I have brothers and sisters, and when they marry, they bring a great many relations into the family, with a great many responsibilities. I think we are not very different after all.”

They continued on their way. Perhaps she was right. They were not very different. He liked that thought.

The princess's private train traveled through the pine forests covering the lower slopes of the mountains surrounding the country. Endless forests, it seemed to Susannah, with only an occasional village and an occasional vista of snowcapped mountains.

Yesterday at the schloss had been both confusing and reassuring. The general drilled “the princess” in the minutiae of court etiquette and had her memorize facts about people she could be expected to know. For the first time in her life, Olivia was being a brilliant scholar, absorbing all the information like a sponge.

At times, it seemed as if Olivia was forgetting that she wasn't really a princess. What on earth were they going to do with her when she had to go back to being plain Lady Olivia, daughter of the scandalous Lady Doncaster?

Yesterday when Susannah confessed her worries to Max—she had given up trying to think of him more formally—he had teased her out of them, but they had returned this morning. She went to him again, and his laughter comforted her once more.

“After all,” he said, “what is the worst that can happen? We will be exposed; the prince will be angry with me and with General Bergen; and you and your friends will be scolded and sent back to Baden. Is that so very dreadful?”

“It will be dreadfully humiliating,” Susannah said. “And I'm not at all convinced that is the worst that can happen.”

Max took her hands in his—those big, warm hands that made her feel both fragile and protected—and said, “You are not to worry, Suse. I will take care of you. I promise that I will not let any harm come to you, or to your friends.”

She almost believed him.

Almost.

It was not that she did not trust him because—for reasons she did not quite understand—she did. It would only be for a few days, and a part of her was looking forward to the adventure. But what if he was wrong? She could not rid herself of the fear that some unknown danger was lurking out there in the dark forest.

Gradually the landscape changed. The forest thinned, and the train tracks ran alongside the river. Sharp hills on the other side kept the train close to the bank, but on the other side of the river, a wide plain was covered with the stubble of this year's harvest. Distant slopes were home to grazing cattle and sheep.

One of the servants came in with a question for Max. At least she thought it was a question. Both the servant and Max spoke a language that was unknown to her. When the servant had left, she could not keep from asking, “Why do you have foreign servants?”

He looked startled. “But I do not.”

She frowned. “But you speak to them in a foreign language.”

His face cleared and he smiled. “No, not a foreign language. The people here mostly speak the Schwäbisch dialect.”

Olivia's head spun around and she looked appalled. “But I didn't understand anything you said to him. That was Schwäbisch? I don't know how to speak Schwäbisch! How will I manage? I won't understand anything people say.”

The general smiled and patted her hand. “There is nothing to worry about. Only the peasants speak Schwäbisch. The nobility and anyone you are likely to encounter will speak proper German,
Hochdeutsch
.”

“Only proper German? They do not speak the local dialect?” asked Lady Augusta. She did not sound as if she approved.

Staufer nodded. “I fear that is too often the case.”

“But that's preposterous,” said Susannah. “How can you work with people if you can't understand them?”

The general looked surprised at the question. “One has agents, stewards. And the upper servants always speak proper German.”

“But you speak Schwäbisch,” she said, looking at Staufer.

He smiled. “I like to work with people I can trust. How can you trust a man if you cannot even speak to him?”

The general shook his head. “Radical notions. Staufer here would be a revolutionary himself if he were not so closely tied to the prince.”

“The prince himself speaks Schwäbisch well enough,” said Staufer mildly, “and would speak it more often if he were not always tucked away in his castle.”

The general opened his mouth as if to argue but then glanced around at the women and settled back in his seat with an irritated grunt.

Olivia had been listening in growing distress. “This will not do,” she said firmly. “If I am to pretend to be the princess, I cannot make things more difficult for her and for the prince by insulting the people. There will be people at the station, along the way, in the town… At the very least, I must learn a few phrases so that I can speak to them.”

The general seemed about to protest, but Lady Augusta overrode him. “The princess is quite right.” When the others looked startled, she continued, “If we are going to succeed in this masquerade, you had better start thinking of her as Princess Mila. And that means that when she asks you to teach her some phrases in Schwäbisch, you obey.”

Olivia sat up a bit straighter and smiled, as if the idea of being obeyed had a decided appeal.

* * *

Nymburg

Dressed in the formal uniform of the Supreme Commander of the Armies of Sigmaringen—white tunic, dark-green trousers with a gold stripe down the sides, high black boots, and a saber at his side—Prince Conrad paced back and forth across the carpet in his private sitting room. He was generally considered a handsome man, not much above average height, but slim and graceful in his movements. His light-brown curls were brushed severely into place, and a small mustache graced his upper lip.

His pacing did not lead him to step off the carpet, because once on the marble floor, his steps would have been audible to the guards at the door. The prince was nervous, but he did not want everyone in the castle to know it.

He wished he could have kept awareness of his state of mind from his uncle, but Count Ludwig Herzlos had come into the sitting room an hour ago and showed no sign of leaving. He would have liked to tell the count to leave but couldn't bring himself to do so. When his parents were killed in the rioting in 1848, Conrad had inherited the Grand Duchy but Herzlos had been named regent. That regency had ended four years earlier, on Conrad's twenty-first birthday, but the habit of obedience was too ingrained to be shaken off easily.

The portly, gray-haired Herzlos was punctilious in his deference to Conrad. He would never sit in the presence of the prince until invited to do so, and even then he would not sit unless Conrad was also sitting. Indeed, he insisted on the observance of ceremony at all times. On the rare occasions when an exasperated Conrad suggested any relaxation of the rigid protocol, the count declared that informality would be the death of monarchy. It was ceremony that kept the ruler above the ruled, he insisted.

Protocol did not, however, keep Herzlos from walking in on Conrad any time he chose. Privacy, it seemed, was of a part with informality, something indulged in only by the bourgeoisie. There were days when Conrad dreamed of being someone, anyone, other than the Prince of Sigmaringen.

“Enough of this, Your Highness. There is no need for you to worry yourself over a few days' delay. The message from General Bergen said ‘a mild indisposition.' She probably ate too much fruit. I'm sure there is no need to be concerned.”

Conrad came to a halt and looked at the count. The prince's mild gray eyes showed a trace of annoyance. “There is no need for you to be concerned, perhaps. You are not about to be married to a woman you have never even seen, no less met and spoken with.”

“Bah.” Herzlos gave a dismissive shrug. “You worry about nothing. I never met my wife before our marriage either, and we have a perfectly good marriage. My father chose her for her family and for her connections, just as Princess Mila has been chosen for you. What more is needed?”

Conrad doubted he could make Herzlos understand. The Countess Herzlos appeared at court on ceremonial occasions, a thin, timid creature who rarely spoke. Conrad wondered if she had always been like that, or if she had simply been unable to stand up to her forceful husband.

Herzlos patted the prince on the shoulder. “You must not distress yourself. Those older than you, and more experienced, will arrange things as they should be arranged. That is why a prince has advisers. Just trust me.”

The prince wanted to say that he was tired of having advisers arrange his life for him, that he wanted to make his own decisions for a change. But Count Herzlos stood there so smugly assured that somehow Conrad couldn't manage to open his mouth.

Doors were being flung open, and someone was being announced. Conrad could hear each announcement coming closer, but could not make out who it was. He wasn't expecting anyone, and, to judge by the scowl on his face, neither was Herzlos. Soon enough his sitting room doors were opened, a liveried footman holding each one at a precise ninety-degree angle, and today's herald announced, “Baron Hugo Herzlos. Baroness Helga Herzlos.” As if Conrad might be unable to recognize them.

His cousins, the terrible twins, marched in, looking much as they always did. They were a good-looking pair, tall and imposing in stature. No one could deny that. Yet somehow they never managed to be attractive.

Hugo held himself stiffly, with a vague air of defiance, as if uncertain of his welcome. Helga was more assured, wrapped in smiling perfection that seemed somehow inauthentic, as if it imperfectly covered a festering discontent with life in general, and her own circumstances in particular.

They stopped the precise ten feet away demanded by protocol.

Protocol must always be observed. Throughout their childhood, that dictum had been drummed into them all by the count.

Conrad always felt vaguely guilty in their presence. He ought to like them. They were his cousins, close to him in age, and Hugo had shared lessons with him and Max. But there was always a distance.

He had not realized it at the time, but he now saw that the distance had been created by the count, who never let his children forget that it was Conrad who was the heir to the throne and they were only his subjects. The count had tried to impress that on Max as well, but Max had ignored him. Perhaps that was why Max was Conrad's friend in a way that Hugo was not.

Hugo bowed and said, “Your Highness.”

Helga curtsied and said, “Your Highness.”

Conrad gave them a smile as false as their own and inclined his head briefly.

The count, however, scowled. “What brings you here, Hugo? I did not know his highness had invited you.”

Hugo flinched, but only slightly. The dismissive tone had doubtless been expected.

It was Helga who replied, looking coldly on her father. “Since Hugo was part of the delegation that arranged the alliance with Hechingen, we thought it only considerate to be on hand to greet the princess when she arrives. She might be glad to see a familiar face.”

Considerate? Helga?
Conrad thought it unlikely.

She turned to Conrad and continued, “The poor girl must find it all rather overwhelming, going off to a strange country to marry a stranger. I do feel for her.” She smiled faintly.

That smile chilled Conrad, and he shivered just as he did every time he recalled the suggestion—he did not know where it had come from—that he marry Helga. Fortunately the count had poured scorn on the idea. Conrad had no idea what Princess Mila was like, but she would have to be better than Helga, who quite simply terrified him.

“Very considerate of you, I'm sure,” said Conrad, his irritation at the intrusion growing. “However, I fear you will all have quite a wait. The princess's train is not due in Nymburg until two, and the procession through the town should take at least another half hour.”

Hugo looked taken aback. “Not until two? But the schedule I arranged had her arriving at noon.”

“Oh, didn't anyone tell you?” Conrad smiled. “General Bergen and I arranged a different schedule, providing her with a more scenic route than the one you had planned.” He took a surely reprehensible pleasure in seeing Hugo try to conceal his annoyance, and that little exercise of power encouraged him to try another. “Now there are some matters that require my attention. You may all feel free to wait in the anteroom.”

Herzlos nodded stiffly. He was frowning, but he would never protest his dismissal in the presence of his children. In front of others, he always pretended that Conrad was prince in fact as well as name. Helga was about to object—her mouth was open—but Hugo tugged on her arm. They all left, and the doors closed behind them.

Conrad felt rather proud of himself. His nervousness about the princess remained—the delay in her arrival had done nothing to calm him—but at least he had arranged some privacy for himself.