A Scandalous Adventure (6 page)

The train pulled into the station at Nymburg at two in the afternoon precisely. The general checked his pocket watch with a smile of satisfaction. He and Staufer were the first to descend from the car, followed by Susannah and Lady Augusta.

The railway station was not what Susannah had expected. Unlike the stations of London, this was not an enclosed building. Even though Nymburg was the capital of the country, the station would have been more appropriate in a country village. There was only a single platform, open to the sky, and a small station house. The building was cheerfully painted in green and red, and even this late in the season sported window boxes full of flowers like those on village houses they had seen. All told, the station house was attractive, but far from impressive.

Although sunny, the day was chilly. So was the crowd on hand to welcome the princess. It was a crowd of respectable size, Susannah supposed, but people seemed far from enthusiastic. Their stolid behavior could, perhaps, be accounted for by the presence of numerous soldiers at the front of the crowd. They wore dark-green uniforms like Max and the general, so she supposed they were members of the Royal Guard.

In front of the crowd were two nervous men carrying top hats and wearing broad sashes across their chests. One of them had his hand on the shoulder of a little girl with an enormous bouquet of flowers.

Susannah's doubts about this masquerade continued, but she offered a smile before she took her place beside Max, facing the general and Lady Augusta, to create a pathway for the “princess.”

Then Olivia appeared at the door of the carriage. She stood there for a moment, hesitantly, then smiled shyly at the crowd.

The air of tension seemed to dissipate slightly, and the murmurs that ran through the crowd seemed friendly.

Susannah tried to make out the words. “What are they saying?” she whispered to Max.

“Pretty,” he whispered back. “They think she is pretty.”

Well, Olivia certainly was that. She looked almost magical in her cream-colored velvet traveling dress with her blond ringlets falling over her shoulder. The green of her collar and of the plume curling down from her hat matched the guards' uniforms almost precisely. Aunt Augusta had determined on that touch.

After a push, the little girl came forward and held out the bouquet. “For you.” The words were barely audible.

Bending down to the child, Olivia took the flowers. “I thank you,” she said, “
Dangschee
,” speaking to the child almost as softly in her best effort at the local pronunciation.

The two welcoming gentlemen, the only ones close enough to hear the exchange, looked at each other in surprise. Then one of them tucked the paper he had been holding into his pocket and stepped forward.

“Welcome to Nymburg, Princess Mila,” he said, and waited uncertainly.

Olivia came forward and smiled at him and at the crowd. She spoke a bit haltingly in her best Schwäbisch, thanking him—“
Dangschee
”—for the welcome and proclaiming her delight—“
I frai mi
”—at being here. The words were clear enough and loud enough to be heard by the crowd.

After a stunned moment, people burst into a cheer, grinning and turning to each other in delight. Olivia ducked her head and blushed prettily, which produced even more cheers.

“She was right,” said Susannah. “It is important to speak Schwäbisch.”

“I never doubted it,” said Max.

The general harrumphed and signaled to the troops to clear a path to the carriage for the princess. But when they arrived, there was a slight disturbance—not from the crowd but from the general. He had been handed a message that brought a frown to his face, and his mood did not improve when they reached the carriage.

“This is the wrong carriage,” he said in a furious undertone. “I ordered the state coach. Who is responsible for this?”

A frightened underling saluted and replied, “Baron Hugo Herzlos ordered it. He said the open carriage would make it easier for the people to see the princess.”

The carriage looked perfectly acceptable to Susannah. It was a wildly ornate landau, white with gold trim and a coat of arms—presumably that of Sigmaringen—on the door, and was drawn by four white horses. The weather was cold enough that the ride would probably be chilly, but other than that, Susannah did not know what the general's objection was. Nonetheless, he and Max were exchanging worried glances.

The general tugged at his mustache briefly, then decided, “It will have to do. It cannot be changed now. Come ahead.”

The ladies were seated in the carriage with fur rugs tucked over their laps, Susannah and Lady Augusta riding backward and Olivia in the middle of her seat, the cynosure of all eyes. She looked nervous, but managed a smile, and they set off.

Once they were out of the station area and riding down a broad avenue, Susannah had an opportunity to see something of the city and the castle on the hilltop high above it. The avenue had the breadth that Susannah had seen in Paris and other cities that had been shaken by all those revolutions and riots in the wild year of 1848. Wide avenues let in the light and gave cities an air of elegance. They also made it difficult for people to erect barricades to impede the passage of troops.

The buildings lining the way were as new as this thoroughfare. They were tall edifices, many of them as much as six stories high, built of stone with large windows that would provide plenty of light for the inhabitants. On the ground floor were shops offering a wide variety of goods. Nymburg looked prosperous and remarkably clean—far cleaner than London. Occasionally, however, the cross streets offered a glimpse of an older, shabbier, less pristine city. That was rather more like London.

High above them, separated from the town by a swath of forest, loomed the walls of the castle. Those grim fortifications contrasted badly with the cheerful banners flying from the buildings in the town.

News that the princess had spoken in Schwäbisch spread through the crowds with amazing speed. One could almost see the tide of the news moving along as smiles appeared on faces that had, moments before, been almost hostile. Shouts of welcome in Schwäbisch were directed at the princess, and she responded with smiles and waves. Such a simple gesture made such a difference. Olivia was a perfect princess.

Susannah turned to share her delight in Olivia's performance with Max, riding beside the carriage, but he was not looking at her or at Olivia. He was scanning the crowd, looking at rooftops, staring at anyone who was moving through the crowd. On the other side, the general was doing the same. They both looked intent and serious. Deadly serious.

As if they thought there was some danger threatening.

The fanfare announcing the approach of the princess startled Conrad out of his reverie. He had been imagining what it would be like if he gave an order and Count Herzlos actually took it seriously, rather than dismissing it as idle speculation. What would it be like to actually rule Sigmaringen?

But the trumpet blare called him back to reality. He stood up, straightened his tunic, adjusted his sword, and set out for the Rudolf Room, where the princess was to be received.

Conrad was not to be allowed to receive her on his own, of course. Count Herzlos awaited him in the anteroom, and the twins were there as well. Ready to walk beside him, as always, but kept a few feet behind by the presence of the count.

“Well, the great day has arrived, has it not, Cousin?”

Conrad swung around and gave Hugo his best icy glare. It was enough to make Hugo pull back the hand that had been about to clap Conrad on the shoulder. That, plus his father's growl, forced Hugo to grind out, “Your Highness, that is.”

Helga was less easily cowed. She gave her irritating trill of a laugh and said, “It is to be hoped that all is well.”

“Why shouldn't it be?” Count Herzlos scowled at her.

The baroness gave a careless shrug. “It is only that the escort for the princess was left in the hands of General Bergen.”

“Bah. A simple task like that should be no problem, even for a simple soldier like Bergen.” The count harrumphed and kept his eyes ahead of him.

That was enough to irritate Conrad. “General Bergen has ever been a loyal and devoted champion of my house. I will not have him insulted.”

“No one would dream of insulting the old general,” said Hugo. “It is just that he is so, well,
old
. One always worries if he will be up to a task.”

“Indeed.” Helga laughed again. “I wouldn't be in the least surprised if he misplaced the princess and brought a milkmaid instead.”

“Your disrespect is unbecoming,” said Count Herzlos stiffly. “No more of this.”

Helga stopped speaking, but she did not bother to suppress the little smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

They neared the Rudolf Room, an enormous chamber almost one hundred and fifty feet long. The plan was for Conrad to stand before his throne at one end of the room while the princess entered from the far end and walked the entire length of the chamber to present herself to him.

That, he decided, was ridiculous. When they came to the doors, he kept going.

Hugo had started to turn in and stopped in confusion. “Cous—Highness, where are you going?”

The count also tugged at his sleeve. “The plan, Sire, was to…”

“I have changed the plan,” Conrad said, cutting him off. “I will greet the princess at the castle entrance.” He continued on his way, walking too quickly for the others to do anything more than follow, and ignored the disgruntled mutters behind him.

At his approach, the guards promptly opened the huge castle doors and stood at attention while he passed through to stand in the sunlight at the top of the stairs. In the courtyard below, a company of the Royal Guard snapped to attention, and he could see the heads of innumerable servants peeking out of windows and around pillars to catch a glimpse of the princess.

“An excellent idea, Highness,” said Hugo. “This way, the people will soon know all the details about the princess's arrival.”

“Yes,” said Helga. “I only hope it hasn't been too much for the poor old general.”

Conrad ignored them.

Another fanfare sounded, and the wrought iron gates leading to the courtyard swung open. General Bergen and Captain Staufer rode in on their white steeds.

“The general does not appear to be suffering any ill effects from the journey,” said the count.

His daughter smiled.

Conrad continued to ignore them. He stood as immobile as the guards in the courtyard.

Next came the princess's carriage, pulling to a halt at the foot of the steps, while the troop of Royal Guards on horseback formed a line behind. The general and the captain dismounted and came to stand at the door of the carriage. Two ladies descended, one old and one young. The princess's ladies-in-waiting, presumably. They stepped to the sides to allow the princess room to alight. The general held out his hand to assist her.

And there she was.

Conrad drew in a sharp breath. Her portrait had lied. It had shown only a conventionally pretty girl. And this woman before him? He did not think he had ever seen a more beautiful creature. Golden ringlets framed a heart-shaped face. Huge brown eyes looked up and locked with his. A smile trembled on the lips of a beautifully bowed mouth. She stood proudly erect, with a tiny waist beneath a glorious bosom.

Behind him, Helga also drew in a hissed breath and Hugo uttered an abrupt expletive, but Conrad barely heard them. His entire being was focused on his future bride.

* * *

The attention of the bridal party was on the prince and his companions.

As they neared the foot of the stairs, the general murmured to Olivia, “The old man is Count Herzlos, the First Counselor. The young man is his son, Baron Hugo Herzlos. He was part of the delegation to Hechingen, so you have met him. The woman is his sister. You do not know her.”

Olivia gave a tiny nod and stepped forward, holding the general's arm.

Susannah, who had heard every word, kept her attention on those surrounding the prince. She had not missed the horrified shock on the faces of the baron and baroness when Olivia stepped from the carriage. They were aghast at the sight of the princess. They covered it up quickly and now wore masks of frozen courtesy, but Susannah had seen.

So, apparently, had Max. When she glanced to her side, he was staring at them with a scowl on his face. Scowls were hardly appropriate for the occasion. He had wanted this masquerade. The least he could do was play his part properly. She smiled and jabbed her elbow into his side. An elbow, but only because she did not have a knife. He jumped and looked at her. She smiled more broadly, baring her teeth and wishing they were fangs. He recovered himself and smiled as well. It was no more convincing a smile than hers, but it would do. He was not a fool.

“You have been lying to us,” she said, whispering through her smile. “There is more going on, more danger threatening, than we were told.”

There was no more time to speak, for they had reached the prince. Olivia began to curtsy to him, but Conrad caught her hands to raise her up. “No, my princess. You need never bow to me.”

He introduced her to the count, who clicked his heels and bowed.

“Count Herzlos,” she said. “I have heard much of you. You are greatly admired all across Europe.”

The count flushed with pleasure. “And I believe you have met my son, Baron Hugo Herzlos?”

Hugo also clicked his heels and bowed.

Olivia looked at him, slightly puzzled, and then her face cleared. “Oh yes, you were one of the delegation that came to my father's court to arrange this marriage. I do remember you.”

The look of annoyance on Hugo's face at this snub was undeniable, but Olivia had already turned away to look coolly at Helga. The baroness tried, but she was finding it difficult to stand up to Olivia's clear gaze.

Sounding dismissive, the count said, “My daughter, Baroness Helga Herzlos.”

The baroness sent a quick glare at her father and then sank into a curtsy.

It was not quite deep enough. Olivia looked at her with raised brows and turned back to the prince.

They all proceeded into the castle, Olivia on Conrad's arm, Lady Augusta on the general's arm, and Susannah on the captain's arm, with the Herzlos clan trailing behind. The general turned back and said softly to Susannah, “That was clever of her, to flatter Herzlos. One cannot offer too much cream to that old fool.”

Max glared, but the general simply smiled and shrugged before moving on with the procession.

“We have to talk,” Susannah muttered to Max, keeping her smiling gaze on the couples ahead of her.

Something was bothering him. He was so tense that she could almost feel his frown in the muscles of his arm. She did not, however, think that the scowl was for her. He was silent for a minute or two, but then muttered, “Yes. I must find out what is going on. Stay together, you and your friends. Do not allow yourselves to be separated. I will come to the princess's rooms as quickly as I can.”

She had to be satisfied with that, mysterious and worrying though it was, because Olivia soon pleaded weariness after the journey, and the welcome broke up.

The chamberlain hurried over from a corner of the room, where he had been in conference with the baron. He was a portly fellow with a supercilious expression beneath his powdered wig, dressed in a particularly showy version of the green and gold castle livery. In his arms he cradled an elaborately carved and painted baton, presumably his badge of office. He bowed to the princess and, at a word from the prince, turned to lead the ladies to their rooms.

As Susannah was about to follow, Max caught her arm. “Remember,” he said, “stay with the princess. Do not allow yourselves to be separated.”

She nodded, feeling more and more worried. The captain had not struck her as a man given to foolish alarms. A foolish disregard of danger was a more likely fault. As they left, she noticed the baron watching them carefully. The baroness must have slipped away earlier, for she was not to be seen.