An Introduction To The Eternal Collection Jubilee Edition (106 page)

‘Thank you! Thank you so very much.’

‘For what in particular?’ the Grand Duke enquired.

‘For my lovely clothes – for having me here,’ Mistral said incoherently.

The Grand Duke put out his hand and she laid hers in it. ‘We have got a lot to say to each other, you and I,’ he said quietly.

‘Yes, Your Imperial Highness.’

His fingers tightened on hers.

‘Must we be so formal?’ he asked. ‘I have a very urgent desire to hear you address me in another way. Can you guess what it is?’

‘Yes – Father,’ Mistral faltered.

He smiled down at her and bent to kiss her cheek. Impulsively she put her arms round his neck. The Grand Duke’s eyes were very gentle and his voice strangely moved as he said quietly,

‘Thank you, my daughter.’

He led the way to two comfortable chairs set out on the balcony overlooking the garden. There was a canopy overhead to shade them from the sun, and the song of the birds flitting amongst the trees was like distant music. The Prince had disappeared and Mistral realised that he knew that his father wanted to be alone with her.

The Grand Duke settled himself comfortably in the chair, then he said,

‘I do not intend after this to speak to you again of Emilie Riguad. She is dead and we can only hope that her troubled soul will find peace in another world, for it had none in this. There is nothing we can do for her now but try to erase from our memories the troubles and difficulties she made for many people, yourself amongst them. I have given instructions to the
Hôtel de Paris
that they are to answer no questions concerning the two ladies who stayed there under the names of
Madame Secret
and
Mademoiselle Fântóme.
To all enquiries they will merely reply that the ladies have left for an unknown destination.

‘In a few weeks I will let it be known that my daughter has arrived in Monte Carlo to live with me. You will be presented to my friends, you will visit the Palace, and there is no reason at all why anyone should connect you with the girl of doubtful antecedents who stayed for a short while at the
Hôtel de Paris.
The winter season is nearly over and most of the visitors who have been staying here at Monte Carlo these past weeks will be returning to their own countries. If they come again next year – and incidentally the Rajah of Jehangar will not be amongst them – they will not recognise you or connect you in any way with the notorious
Mademoiselle Fântóme.
You will agree with me, I am sure, that it is the best way to arrange things.’

‘Yes – I am sure it is, Father,’ Mistral said, but somehow her tone lacked conviction.

The Grand Duke went on.

‘There are many things that you and I will wish to discuss together in the future, but there are just a few things that I must explain as regards the past. One of these concerns your mother. I do not want you to imagine that I did not love her and that the reason I let her go away from me was not that I did not sincerely desire her happiness. I loved her passionately, as I have loved only one other woman in the whole of my life – my first wife, Nikolai’s mother. Perhaps I was too impetuous, too ready to believe that her inexperienced emotions matched my own much more experienced ones. I did not know, when we were first married, that she had been badly treated as a child and that her whole outlook and character were distorted by fear – fear of people and especially a fear of men. Her half-sister, Emilie Riguad, had brought her up to believe that all men were brutes, and after we were married, her love for me was not strong enough to counter balance the horror she felt at my natural love and desire for her.

‘When she left me after a stormy scene in which she told me she hated me and was determined never to live with me again, I thought I was being clever in letting her have her own way. I knew that she was really frightened of her half-sister, Emilie, and I knew that she disliked the sordidness of the farm in Brittany. I believed in my vanity that, if I left her alone, she would before very long return to me of her own free will.

‘But I was mistaken, as you know, and when at length I could be proud no longer and my need for her was so great that I was ready to beg her to return on any terms she desired, it was too late. I was told that she was dead. I had not the slightest idea, of course, that she had borne me a child.’

The Duke’s voice was raw with pain. Mistral put out her hand and laid it on his arm.

‘Do not tell me this if it makes you unhappy,’ she said softly.

‘I want you to understand,’ he replied. ‘And there is something else I would tell you. I have taken away from you the pearls that belonged to your mother. I had always hoped that Alice had sold them and bought with the money some comfort and luxury for herself. I had no idea, of course, that Emilie Riguad would set them aside as a weapon to be used in her diabolical revenge. She was sharp enough to know that they were unique and to anticipate that, if you came to Monte Carlo wearing them, I would be certain to hear of them and make enquiries as to how they had come into your possession.

‘As it happened, Nikolai did speak of them when he told me of the two strange women who had come to the
Hôtel de
Paris, one of whom claimed my acquaintance. But that part of Emilie’s plot misfired. I did not connect the pearls which
Mademoiselle Fântóme
was wearing with the ones which had been a part of the fabulous collection of my great-grandfather – the Czar. I thought Nikolai was talking nonsense, and so I did not, as Emilie had anticipated, make the enquiries which would have speeded up the hour of her triumph.’

‘It was a strange revenge to choose,’ Mistral said reflectively.

‘But a clever one,’ the Grand Duke replied. ‘She knew, you see, that the one person I really adored was my only son.

She had doubtless heard that Nikolai was very gay and very easily attracted by a pretty woman. She thought that, if she could inveigle him into being in love with you, she would in common parlance kill two birds with one stone. I would be forced to enquire as to your identity and Nikolai’s heart would be broken and his life ruined by the knowledge that he was in love with his own sister. A clever plot, but as I say, not an entirely successful one. I think I am right in saying that Nikolai is not in love with you or you with him.’

‘No, he is not in love with me,’ Mistral repeated, ‘nor I with him.’

For a moment she hesitated, uncertain whether to tell her father of Sir Robert. Then she felt that she could not speak of it to anyone, could not confess her humiliation and misery that he had not believed in her, that he had not been certain of her innocence. Murmuring some excuse, she rose from the chair beside the Grand Duke and walked down the stone steps into the garden.

He watched her go and made no effort to prevent her. His eyes were wise and understanding. He knew that it was too soon as yet to force her confidence.

The rest of the day passed happily. Mistral explored the garden. The Grand Duke took her to his green houses, where he had the most celebrated collection of orchids in the whole of France. Later he took her round the
Chateau
and showed her some of the treasures he had brought there from Russia. Mistral was awe struck when she learned the distinction and importance of many of her relatives.

It was strange to think that only a few days ago she had been nobody, a girl who at school had not even been entitled to use her father’s name, and now she was a Princess in her own right, related to the monarchs of many European countries and a direct descendant of the Czar of all the Russias. She thought then that she would never get used to being addressed by her title, but when she murmured these apprehensions to the Grand Duke, he laughed at her.

‘The strangeness will soon wear off,’ he said. Besides, you will find it all comes natural to you, for you are a true aristocrat, my dear. Your English blood is noble and of great antiquity. One day we will go to England, you and I, and make the acquaintance of your relatives there. Incidentally, your second cousin has recently been made Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs.’

‘It is quite frightening to have so many relations,’ Mistral said half ruefully, ‘after having had none.’

‘That is life,’ the Grand Duke replied. ‘Either one has everything or nothing. Often there appears to be no half measures.’

And yet, Mistral thought as she went to her room to change for dinner, in the midst of plenty she was still like someone dying of thirst for a drink of water. The one thing she really wanted, the one thing of great moment in her life, was not hers. In the privacy of her own room, when she could relax, it was impossible to keep the thoughts of Robert from pouring over her, excluding all else and filling her with a dull, incessant pain which she felt would never be assuaged until she could see him again.

That was of course impossible. By now he would doubtless have gone from Monte Carlo and forgotten her. Even if he had wanted to find her, he would not be able to do so. Mistral covered her face with her hands. She wanted him so desperately that it seemed to her that nothing in the whole world mattered beside her love for him, the aching need of her whole body.

She was trembling a little with the intensity of her emotions when there came a knock on the door. It was a moment before Mistral could compose herself enough to say,

‘Come in!’

The door opened.

‘I am sorry if I interrupt, Your Serene Highness,’ Yvette said, ‘but there is a woman downstairs who is very anxious to speak with you.’

‘Someone for me?’ Mistral said in surprise. ‘But who is it?’

‘It is a
Madame
Boulanger,’ Yvette said. ‘She said you would not know her by that name, but she explained that once she had a dress with butterflies embroidered on it, and it is of the utmost urgency that she should speak with you for a moment.’

Stella’s pretty face sprung into Mistral’s mind.

‘Of course I know who she is! Bring her here, Yvette.’

‘Very good, Your Serene Highness.’

Mistral crossed the room to pick up a paper which had fallen from the writing desk. As she did so, she saw that Yvette had laid out a gown for the evening. It was of white lace trimmed with tiny posies of roses. It was a very different dress from the one she had worn that night when the Rajah had first threatened her and she had become entangled with Stella in the cloakroom at the Casino.

Why had this woman come to see her now? She half regretted her impulse in sending for her without first informing the Grand Duke. But it was too late to change her mind. A knock on the door told her that
Madame
Boulanger already stood outside. Yvette announced her and Stella came into the bedroom. For a moment Mistral hardly recognised her. She was dressed very simply with no hat and over her shoulders was a woollen shawl which she had obviously flung back from her head. Her face was not painted, her eyelashes undarkened, and yet she looked prettier and younger than when, dressed in an expensive gown and gorgeously bejewelled, she had accompanied the Rajah to the Casino.

For a moment the two women looked at each other, then Stella curtsied respectfully.

‘It is kind of Your Serene Highness to see me.’

‘How did you know I was here?’ Mistral enquired. ‘It is supposed to be a secret.’

‘Yes, I know that,’ Stella replied. ‘But my husband’s cousin is butler to His Imperial Highness. He told us of the lovely young lady who had arrived at the
Chateau
. He described you and it was not hard to put two and two together after we heard that
Mademoiselle Fântóme
had unexpectedly and without warning left the
Hôtel de Paris.’

‘You will not speak of it to anyone?’ Mistral asked.

‘But of course not,’ Stella replied. ‘I didn’t even tell my husband’s cousin who you were. I came here not to make mischief,
Mademoiselle
, but to tell you something I think you would wish to know.

‘What is it?’ Mistral asked.

‘It’s about Sir Robert Stanford,’ Stella replied.

Mistral started violently, then with an eagerness she did not attempt to hide she asked quickly,

‘What about him? Is he still in Monte Carlo? Is he in trouble?’

‘Yes,
Mademoiselle
, he is in trouble,’ Stella replied.

‘Oh!’

The monosyllable seemed to be drawn from the very depths of Mistral’s heart, then she added quickly,

‘What is it? Please tell me!’

‘He has been hurt,’ Stella replied. ‘Wounded!’ Then realising that the blood had left Mistral’s face she went on, ‘Do not perturb yourself. He is much better! In fact I believe he leaves tomorrow for England.’

‘But how was he hurt?’ Mistral enquired.

Stella glanced over her shoulder to make sure the door was shut.

‘You will not make trouble,
Mademoiselle
, if I tell you the truth? You were kind to me and therefore I wish only to do you a service.’

‘I promise you I will not make trouble for you or for anyone else,’ Mistral said.

‘It was Potoc,’ Stella said.

‘The Prince’s servant?’ Mistral enquired.

‘Yes,’ Stella repeated. ‘He stabbed Sir Robert in the back as he walked through the Casino Gardens.’

‘Stabbed him!’ Mistral gasped. ‘But why and for what reason?’

Even as she asked the question she knew the answer herself. He was revenging himself for the wound Robert had inflicted on the Prince. He would never forgive anyone who harmed his beloved master and he had taken his revenge swiftly and secretly. Mistral clasped her hands together as if to steady her self-control.

‘Sir Robert’s life is not in danger?’ she asked.

‘Not now’ Stella replied. ‘Luckily he was found very shortly after it happened. He was taken back to the
Hôtel Hermitage
and the Doctor stopped the bleeding and sewed up the wound. Tomorrow, as I have said, Sir Robert leaves for England.’

Mistral put her hands up to her eyes.

‘What can I do?’ she asked.

‘I’m telling you this,
Mademoiselle
, because you were kind to me,’ Stella said. ‘You made a decision for me which has altered my whole life, which has brought me unbelievable happiness. I know, because my husband is working as Chef at the
Hôtel Hermitage,
that Sir Robert loves you. Servants talk, especially French ones,
Mademoiselle
, and when he was delirious the first night, Sir Robert called your name over and over again. You may think I am presumptuous in coming to you on such a slender pretext, but one day when you were standing on the shore talking to Sir Robert I passed by in a carriage. I think you did not see me because you were oblivious to all save each other. I thought then that you loved Sir Robert, and when he called for you all through the night, I knew that he loved you. If I have been impertinent and indiscreet in coming here, you will perhaps forgive me.’