“Oh, come, Mrs Jones; there must be some mistake. Her Majesty is a foreigner too, you know, and doesn’t speak English perfectly; but, as you say, it is not her fault. You must have misunderstood her.”
“There was no misunderstandin’, my lord. It was as plain as the nose upon your face, as they say, not intendin’ anything personal to your lordship. And I’m sure,” here Mrs Jones looked mysterious, “as there ain’t no call, my lord, for you to be defendin’ them as worrits your life out with doin’ their work, and then turns round and stabs you when you ain’t there, so to speak.”
“If I can do anything for you,” said Cyril, his curiosity not stirred even by the complicated operation described, “I shall be glad to do it; but I can’t listen to complaints of your mistress.”
“And who talked about complaints, my lord, may I ask? I was settin’ by my fire, and little King Michael, as was tired after his play, on my lap. ‘Tell me a ’tory, nursie,’ he says, and I tell him the one he always likes best, of the time when you and the Markiss was young gentlemen at school, and made raftses on the lake when you was home for the holidays. I was just gettin’ to the part where your lordship was tryin’ to smoke the old swan off of the rock you wanted for a desert island, when I heard a rustle, and there stood the Queen, her eyes glarin’ at me. ‘Woman!’ she says, ‘how dare you worm yourself in here to turn my child’s heart against me?’ ‘And who may your Majesty be callin’ wormses?’ I says, and I don’t deny, my lord, my temper was up, to be spoke to in that way in my own nursery, and before the child. ‘You are a creature of Count Mortimer’s,’ she says, ‘and he has hired you to tell these tales.’ ‘Me a creature!’ I says; ‘me that’s always lived in the best families, and kep’ myself respectable! That’s a name I don’t allow no one to call me, not even Queen Victoria herself, as would know better than use it to a honest widow woman, as has always paid her way, and brought up four sons and three darters to be a credit to the estate, and one of them dead in Egypt, and two in service at the Castle, and one of them her ladyship’s own maid! I’ll ask your Majesty to please suit yourself this day month, and you may be sure that the names of their lordships shan’t never cross my lips again in this house, as ain’t fit to be honoured with them!’ But there, my lord, when her Majesty was gone, as she did go pretty soon when I up and spoke my mind like that, and the child put his little arms round my neck and says, ‘Finish the ’tory, nursie dear,’ what did I do but finish it? But for all that, I leave this day month, if you please.”
“I hope you will think better of it, Mrs Jones. The Queen seems rather worried just now, and perhaps a little vexed with me. I fancy I must have got upon her nerves. So you mustn’t think she meant all she said; and if she asks you to stay, I hope you will. After all, you really are a woman, you know.”
“And if I am, my lord,” returned Mrs Jones, with great dignity, “it ain’t for any other woman, nor yet for your lordship, to cast it up to me. Will your lordship be good enough to help me with my journey, or must I write to Sir Egerton Stratford at Bellaviste?”
“Don’t trouble the British Minister, certainly. I will give you any help you need. Good afternoon, and pray think better of it.”
Mrs Jones departed, with her head high in air, and Cyril rose from his chair, and took one or two turns up and down the room.
“This won’t do,” he said to himself. “The Queen must be getting up a perfect monomania about me, if she flies out at the servants for merely mentioning my name, and it will grow into a scandal if it goes on. It is quite evident that it’s no use speaking to her; I must get at one of the people who know the ropes. Either the Princess of Dardania or the Princess of Weldart would answer the purpose, but it would be a long job. And then, the price to be paid for the support of either of them would be so heavy that the game would certainly not be worth the candle. One owes something to one’s own self-respect, and I don’t propose to efface myself politically because an ungrateful little termagant refuses to see when she is well served. No. I must have a try at the nearest wire-puller. I never knew the woman yet whom there was no way to get round, and I shall be surprised if Fräulein von Staubach is an exception to the rule. But we must go to work carefully. It would be no good to ask her for an interview, for nothing would give her greater pleasure than to refuse. She must be caught with guile. Ah!”
He touched a bell, and one of his clerks appeared.