Bride to the King (6 page)

There were more stations, more crowds and the country with its mountains, its valleys, its distant snowy peaks and its silver rivers had made Zosina know that the Ambassador had been right when he said it was one of the most beautiful places one could imagine.

There were lakes and castles, which made her think of the warring history of the early Dórsians and then, as the countryside became more populous, she knew that they were coming into the Capital.

She felt her heart begin to beat in a manner that told her she was frightened and, as the Ladies-in-Waiting began to fuss round the Queen Mother giving her her gloves, her handbag, asking if she needed a mirror, Zosina thought almost for the first time of her own appearance.

She knew her pink gown was exceedingly becoming, but somehow she suddenly felt gauche and insignificant beside the majesty and elegance of her grandmother.

‘I must not make any mistakes,’ she said frantically to herself.

Then the train began to slow down and she saw that they were moving slowly into position at what appeared to be a crowded platform.

“Are you ready, my dearest?” the Queen Mother asked. “I will alight first and you follow behind me. The King and I expect too the Regent will be waiting directly opposite the carriage door.”

Zosina wanted to reply, but her voice seemed to be strangled in her throat.

The train came to a standstill.

The Ladies-in-Waiting rose to their feet and Zosina saw the Royal Party and several other gentlemen accompanying them pass in front of the window and knew that they would be waiting at the door of the carriage.

Without hurrying, arranging her skirt to her satisfaction, the Queen Mother stood for a moment determined, Zosina thought, to give a touch of drama to the moment when they would appear.

Then slowly, smiling her beguiling smile, she walked to the door of the carriage.

Zosina felt as if her feet had suddenly been rooted to the ground and it was with considerable effort that she made them obey her and move too.

The Queen Mother assisted by willing hands stepped down onto the platform, then, almost without realising it, Zosina found herself behind her and a second later she heard a man’s voice say,

“Welcome to Dórsia, ma’am! It is a very great pleasure and a privilege to have you here as my guest.”

She thought the voice sounded young and rather boyish. Then the next moment the Queen Mother had moved on and Zosina curtseyed deeply as she took the hand that was waiting for her.

For a moment it was impossible to focus her eyes to look up and she heard the King say again,

“Welcome to Dórsia! It is a very great pleasure and a privilege to have you here as my guest.”

Now she raised her eyes.

He was good-looking and the miniature had been an excellent likeness, but there was something the artist had omitted and which to Zosina was very noticeable.

It was the expression in the King’s eyes and she knew, as she looked at him, that he was staring at her with what she thought was resentment and, she was quite sure, dislike.

It was only a quick impression, but, almost before it was possible to look at the King and him at her, he had turned his face towards Count Csàky, who was directly behind her and Zosina was forced to move on.

As she did so, she heard the Queen Mother say,

“I want you to meet my granddaughter, the Princess Zosina.”

Zosina curtseyed again, realising as she did so, that she was now in front of the Regent, Prince Sándor.

It was difficult for a moment to think of anything but the way the King had looked at her and to know that her heart was thumping and she felt shocked because of what she had seen.

It was then that she felt her hand held in a firm grasp and a voice said,

“I am so very delighted, Your Royal Highness, that you are here, and I hope in all sincerity that we in Dórsia will be able to make your visit a very happy one.”

There was no doubt the voice was as sincere as the words.

As it flashed through Zosina’s mind that she had no idea what the Regent looked like, she raised her eyes and saw that he was very different from what she had expected.

She had imagined since he was uncle to the King and had been Regent for some years, that he would be old or at least middle-aged.

But there was no doubt that the man who held her hand as she rose from her curtsey was certainly not much over thirty-three or four.

He was good-looking, she thought, but in a different manner from the King and he had an easy kind of self-confidence about him, which seemed to Zosina to give her the assurance she needed at the moment.

It was as if he calmed and steadied her and the expression that she had seen in the King’s eyes did not seem so upsetting or so frightening.

The Queen Mother was greeting the Prime Minister and various members of the welcoming party and for the moment Zosina made no effort to follow her.

Her hand still rested in the Regent’s and, as if he knew what she was feeling, he said,

“It is always rather bewildering to meet a whole collection of new people for the first time, but I can promise you, Your Royal Highness, that they are all as delighted to see you as I am.”

With an effort Zosina found her voice.

“You – are very – kind,” she managed to say. “That is what we all want to be,” the Regent answered. “And now I want to introduce you to the Prime Minister who is very anxious to make your acquaintance.”

There were more presentations, then the King was at the Queen Mother’s side and they walked together with Zosina following with the Regent, towards the door of the station.

As they reached it, a band began to play the Lützelstein National Anthem and it was then followed by that of Dórsia.

Out of the corner of her eyes and by now they were standing four in a row, Zosina could look at the King.

He was standing at attention and she thought that he was looking bored and, when the National Anthems were over and they stepped into the open carriage that was waiting for them, he yawned before he joined the Queen Mother on the back seat, while Zosina and the Regent sat opposite them.

As the horses started off amid the cheers of the crowd, Zosina noticed that there were lines under the King’s eyes and she told herself he must have been late to bed the night before.

‘Katalin is right,’ she thought. ‘He
is
a rake and I expect he thinks if he marries me I shall try to stop him from enjoying himself. That is why he dislikes me already, even before we have met.’

The idea was so depressing that for a moment she forgot to bow to the crowd.

Then she realised the women particularly were staring at her and waving directly at her rather than at her grandmother.

With an effort she forced herself to respond.

As she did so, she realised the King was looking at her again and there was no doubt the expression in his eyes had not changed.

If anything, his dislike, if that was what it was, was intensified.

Zosina looked round the dining room and wished that her sisters could have been there.

It was certainly very different from the sombre rather heavy room they dined in at her father’s Palace.

The light from the gold candelabra glittered on the profusion of gold plate and the table was decorated with orchids, which also festooned the enormous marble fireplace and a number of the marble pillars.

It was a room, she thought, that might have stepped straight out of a Fairy story. She had also thought the same of the rest of the Palace or rather what she had been shown so far.

When she had first seen it standing above the town, white with the sunshine glittering on its windows and what appeared to be a gold dome over the centre of it, she had drawn in her breath.

It flashed through her mind that there might be some compensation in being the wife of a King who disliked her, if she could live in such attractive surroundings.

But even as she raised her eyes to the sun-capped mountains and looked at the green woods that covered the foothills behind the Palace and the flowering trees which lined the roads along which they were proceeding, she knew that the look in the King’s eyes had caused a constriction in her heart that she could not control.

Without appearing to do so, she glanced at him sitting opposite her and realised his hair was far darker than it had appeared in the miniature.

His skin was dark or sunburnt too and his eyes, even apart from the expression in them, seemed almost black.

It made her remember that it was a joke among her sisters when they were angry to say to each other,

“Don’t look at me with black eyes!”

That, she thought, exactly described the way the King looked at her.

Once they had entered the Palace and climbed up red-carpeted steps lined with soldiers in colourful uniforms, she forgot for a moment everything but the beauty of the building.

It was Frau Weber who had made Zosina study architecture and recognise the various periods.

Of course they had started with the Greeks and Zosina had been so thrilled with the pictures of the Acropolis that she had felt nothing could ever equal the symmetry and beauty of the Parthenon.

The Romans had delighted her too and finally, when they had reached the outstanding buildings erected by Robert Adam in the eighteenth century, she had longed, although she dare not say so, to pull down her father’s Palace and erect something that she felt would be appropriate as a Royal residence.

Here, almost like the answer to a prayer, was a Palace that embodied everything that she had ever admired.

Whoever had chosen the decorations inside had kept them uncluttered from fringes and tassels and employed the vivid colours that Zosina knew always made her feel happy.

“I understand we shall be a very small party,” the Queen Mother had said when they retired to their bedrooms to change for dinner. “Tomorrow there is a great banquet being given in my honour and, although they do not say so, in yours, dearest.”

Zosina did not reply and the Queen Mother went on,

“Tonight you will just meet the King’s close relatives, although I expect the Prime Minister and his wife will be there as well.”

She made it sound quite intimate, but there were actually, Zosina counted looking round the table, thirty people seated in what she had learnt was the private dining room of the King.

The King had the Queen Mother on his right and Zosina was on his left.

On her left was the Regent and on his other side an extremely attractive, dark-haired woman with flashing eyes, who was talking to him intimately and made him laugh.

‘I must not sit here dumb and saying nothing,’ Zosina told herself, remembering how often her father had said, ‘nothing is more boring than taking into dinner a woman who is more concerned with her food than with oneself. It does not much matter what you say, but, for Heaven’s sake, talk!’

Feeling a little shy because the King had not addressed a word to her since they had sat down, Zosina turned to him and said,

“I think, Sire, your Palace must be the most beautiful one in the whole of Europe!”

There was a little pause before the King looked at her and she thought for one uncomfortable moment he intended to ignore her remark.

Then he replied,

“You must be easy to please. I intend to make a great many alterations and certainly have it redecorated!”

“Oh, no!” Zosina exclaimed involuntarily, thinking how lovely it was already.

Even as she spoke, she knew she had made a mistake and once again the King was glaring at her with black eyes.

“If you think anybody is going to interfere with me once I am allowed to do what I wish,” he said harshly, “you are very much mistaken.”

He spoke so aggressively that Zosina gave a little cry before she said,

“Oh – please, I was not – meaning what you think I-I – meant. I only – thought the Palace was so – beautiful in every way, I cannot – imagine how it could be improved!”

Because she was embarrassed, her words seemed to tumble over each other as she attempted to explain herself. The King merely remarked unpleasantly,

“You must be very easily pleased!”

He then turned deliberately to speak to the Queen Mother. Zosina drew in her breath.

This was worse than she had even feared and she told herself she might have been tactless, but she had not meant to upset him.

Then she heard the Regent say,

“I heard you admiring the Palace. I am so glad that you find it attractive.”

“I think it is – lovely.”

“That is what I think too.”

Because he seemed kind and understanding, she said in a low voice that only he could hear,

“I did not – mean to – upset His Majesty, and I was trying – to explain that I could not think how, as it looks so beautiful, it could be – improved.”

The Regent smiled.

“We obviously think the same way,” he said, in a tone which she knew was meant to be soothing.

Because she thought the subject must embarrass him if she continued with it, Zosina with an effort, said,

“Count Csàky told me how beautiful Dórsia was, but I think it would be difficult even for the most accomplished poet – to describe adequately what I have seen so far.”

“You are fond of poetry?”

“Yes, very, but I know that some people find it – dull.” As she spoke, she was certain that the King would be one of them.

“I think poetry is rather like music,” the Regent said quietly, “it can often express our feelings or our thoughts as ordinary words would be unable to do.”

“It is strange you should think that,” Zosina said with a sudden warmth in her voice. “Sometimes, when I look at anything very beautiful, I know that it would be impossible to describe it in prose and, as you have said, only music or poetry could – say what it – makes me – feel.”

She thought as she spoke, that there was an expression of surprise in the Regent’s eyes, but she was not sure.

Then, because she thought he would understand, she asked,

“May I ask you – something?”

“Of course,” he replied.