The Power and the Prince

CHAPTER ONE ~ 1878-2

It was nearly an hour later, for Lady Odele was not able to change quickly, when she returned to the Blue Salon, wearing one of the exquisite gowns that were designed especially for her by the great Frederick Worth in Paris.

It had a bustle in a waterfall of gathered satin and frilled chiffon that made her look not like a swan but an exotic Bird of Paradise. Her fair hair haloed her Grecian-shaped head and its curled fringe was like a wave above her arched eyebrows.

Very conscious of her beauty, she moved towards the tea table that had been set on the hearthrug, where the Prince, standing in front of the fire, was watching her appreciatively.

‘He loves me,’ she thought complacently.

She had found, as she expected, that the bedroom allotted to her was in the same wing of The Castle as his private suite.

She poured out the China tea, knowing, as she did so, that her hands with their long white fingers were being shown to advantage.

“You have the best tea that I have ever tasted anywhere,” she remarked, “but then, Ivan, everything concerned with you is the best and no one can argue about that.”

“That is what I wish it to be,” the Prince said. “I thought to myself as you came across the room that there is nobody in England who can boast your grace and beauty.”

Lady Odele smiled.

“I doubt that the Prince of Wales would agree with you. He is completely besotted by Mrs. Langtry.”

“I am aware of that,” the Prince replied. “His Royal Highness and Lillie will be arriving tomorrow.”

“You did not tell me that this was to be a Royal party!” Lady Odele exclaimed.

“I did not say it was not,” the Prince countered.

She knew that she had made a mistake in expecting him to discuss his guests or anything else that concerned him personally with anyone, not even with her.

“I am, of course, delighted that they are both coming,” she said quickly. “I like Mrs. Langtry, even though most women are extremely jealous of her.”

She looked at the Prince from under her eyelashes as she spoke and added,

“And I too shall be very jealous of her, Ivan, if you find her more attractive than me.”

The Prince did not reply that it was impossible. He merely smiled somewhat enigmatically and Lady Odele went on,

“I shall console myself with the knowledge that most of the women you have liked have been fair. It is, of course, the attraction of opposites.”

She glanced at the Prince’s dark shining head as she spoke and she thought that, despite the fact that his mother had been English, everything about his appearance was Russian.

The Prince put his cup and saucer down on the table and said,

“Now, I want to talk to you, Odele. I want your help.”

“My help?” Lady Odele echoed in surprise.

She had been wondering all the time she was changing what he wished to talk to her about, but, try as she might, she could not imagine for one moment what it could possibly be.

Although he had asked her to arrive early so that they could be alone, she had not imagined that it was because he wished to make love to her before the rest of his guests arrived.

She was aware that the Prince would not accept the discomfort of making love on a sofa in the afternoon in imitation of the Prince of Wales and a number of other gentlemen who inevitably copied his example.

This was necessary only because at that time of the day the husband of the lady in question was usually at his Club and the lovers were unlikely to be disturbed.

But such clandestine difficulties were quite unnecessary when Lady Odele was sleeping conveniently hear to the Prince’s suite and they would have the night ahead of them.

Therefore his desire to see her at teatime, Lady Odele was sure, did not concern their love for each other.

But what else could it be?

She had racked her brains for an explanation not only on the train but almost every minute since she had arrived at Charl and had found no answer.

Now she moved from behind the tea table to sit in a more favourable light by the window, aware, as she did so, that her movements, her hair and the discreet glitter of diamonds in her ears were all exceedingly alluring.

“You know, dearest Ivan,” she said softly, “if I can help you, I am always ready to do so, but I cannot imagine what it can be. You have made me curious to know how can be possible for me to be of assistance.”

“That is what I am going to tell you and you know, Odele, that because we mean so much to each other, you are the only person whose advice I would ask for in this particular difficulty.”

Lady Odele draped her hands elegantly on one side of her lap and raised her blue eyes in an attitude of almost childlike attention.

It seemed to her as if the Prince was feeling for words.

Then with his usual determined unhesitating manner, which was mitigated by the depth of fascination of his voice, he said,

“My wife died last week.”

Lady Odele was startled.

She had forgotten the Prince’s wife, as everybody else had.

The Princess was never mentioned, but now that she thought of her, Lady Odele remembered that she had been Hungarian and had been injured many years ago, soon after they were married, in a riding accident.

It was averred, although the Prince never spoke of her, that she was in fact mad and was shut up in a nursing home in Hungary.

“It was, of course, a merciful release,” the Prince went on quietly. “She had not recognised anyone for years and it would be pointless to pretend that even her closest relatives will mourn her death.”

“So you are free,” Lady Odele said softly.

It flashed through her mind that the Prince might be making her a proposal of marriage. Then she knew that even to think of such a thing was quite ridiculous.

However outrageously those in the Social world behaved in private, there was one commandment that they always obeyed, one hard and fast rule that was never broken,

“Thou shalt not cause a scandal!”

Odele knew that even if the Prince went down on his knees and offered her himself and everything he possessed, she would refuse without even a moment’s hesitation.

However much she loved a man and she told herself that she loved Ivan perhaps more than she had ever loved anyone, her place in the Social world came first.

Edward was not only in many ways a kind and generous husband, but he was a favourite of the Prince of Wales and considered a ‘good chap’ amongst the other Stewards of the Jockey Club and the members of White’s Club.

To leave him would mean social ostracism from everything that made her position in life important and amusing. No one, not even Ivan, could compensate for the loss of that.

The Prince was now saying,

“Now that, as you say, I am free, I have made a big decision and this, Odele, is where I want you to help me.”

“What is your decision?”

“I must marry again!”

So he was thinking of marriage.

Lady Odele drew in her breath, wondering how she could refuse him without losing him.

“As you are aware,” the Prince continued, “I have no children. My wife was actually with child when the accident occurred that left her a lunatic for the rest of her unhappy life.”

For a moment his voice was hard.

Then he went on more softly,

“But now I want an heir and if possible other sons and daughters to inherit my fortune and to give me what I know will be a new interest.”

Lady Odele did not speak because she found it difficult to know what she should say.

“I have thought over the idea carefully,” the Prince carried on, “and I realise that in my large acquaintance of friends I know very few women of the right age.”

“What age is that?” Lady Odele asked, thinking that her voice sounded very unlike her own.

“That is another thing I have thought over carefully,” the Prince said. “I want the mother of my children to be pure and innocent of love except for what I shall teach her.”

Lady Odele stared at him in astonishment.

Could Ivan really have said ‘pure and innocent’? It certainly seemed strange from a man who was notorious over the whole of Europe for his love affairs.

She thought of the hundreds of beautiful women who had thrown their hearts and their bodies at his feet only too eagerly.

Then, as if she realised that she must now say something, she commented almost tartly,

“In which case your wife will have to be very young.”

“Exactly,” the Prince agreed.

“A young girl on the threshold of womanhood?”

“That is the person I have in mind.”

“Are you telling me that you have already asked someone to marry you?” Lady Odele enquired.

Despite her intention to remain cool and calm, she could not restrain the note of indignation that crept into her voice and the sharpness that invaded the liquid beauty of her eyes.

The Prince shook his head.

“That is the trouble I know exactly what I want, but, as you must be aware, Odele, I never meet young girls. They appear not to exist in a world that is filled with sophisticated beauties like yourself.”

Lady Odele gave an almost audible sigh of relief.

Now she was beginning to understand why he had turned to her for help.

“You wish to marry an English girl?”

“As you know, I find the English an attractive race,” he said, giving her a meaningful look with something very intimate in it, “and I like the way Englishwomen who are well-bred have a pride and a self-control that is hard to find in the women of other nations.”

“You are also half-English.”

Lady Odele knew as she spoke that he was intensely proud of his English blood and had followed his father in being completely alienated from everything that was Russian.

The late Prince Katinouski had quarrelled with the Czar and had left St. Petersburg for Europe never to return.

He had married the Duke of Warminster’s daughter and his only son, Prince Ivan, had been brought up in an entirely English fashion.

He had been sent to Eton and to Oxford University and it was only after this that his Russian blood and his great wealth had taken him to all the pleasure spots of the world and people had begun to talk of Ivan Katinouski as if he was a character out of The Arabian Nights.

And his superb racehorses in England, his parties in Paris and his extravagances in Italy were all part of the legend of the Fairytale Prince.

But it was inevitable that people talked most about the women he loved.

They pursued him frantically, loving him to the point where they risked their reputations in a reckless fashion if his dark eyes so much as looked in their direction.

“I suppose an English wife would suit you best,” Lady Odele agreed a little doubtfully.

As she spoke, she was wondering how any English girl could cope, as even she was unable to do, with the many diverse and strange sides of the Prince’s character.

Lady Odele knew, if she was honest, that, while she believed that he loved her at least for the moment and that she attracted him passionately, she could not have gone into a witness box on her oath and sworn that she knew him as a man.

There was so much that was secret about him, so many unfathomed depths to his character that even to think of them left her bewildered.

Aloud she now said,

“Perhaps, Ivan, a girl of a different nationality might be more suitable.”

Then as she spoke she knew that she was being foolish.

What did it matter if Ivan’s wife did not understand him? She would be there only to give him what he demanded in regard to his children.

So she was not surprised when the Prince answered her remark by saying,

“I know what I want, Odele. I wish you to find me an English girl from, of course, a noble family, who will give me children and fill the part of my life that has been empty all these years.”