“And when it’s exerted against your wishes——?” thought Maimie, as he allowed her to depart. “You scored this time, you consequential little wretch, but I guess you won’t do it any more. And as for your dear stepfather, I’ll just count the days until I can punish him. Trying to part me from Fay, indeed!”
Nothing more was seen or heard of Prince Malasorte just then, and Maimie guessed that Félicia’s non-appearance at the rendezvous had disgusted him beyond remedy. Very shortly after the Battle of Flowers she and Félicia embarked on the Bluebird, accompanied by the Baroness Radnika, for whom, fortunately enough, Félicia had conceived one of her sudden attachments. Maimie, who knew that the Baroness’s maiden name had been Aline von Hartenweg, was not surprised by the passionate tenderness with which she responded to Félicia’s endearments, and wondered at the practical wisdom which had been shown in selecting Prince Joseph’s old love as the instructress of his daughter. Meanwhile, Mr Hicks was summoned from New York, bringing with him the documents committed to his care; and alarming legal personages invaded the parish of St Mary Windicotes, and the peaceful dwelling of the old clergyman and his wife at Whitcliffe, demanding evidence on oath with regard to the marriage of Joseph Bertram and Constance Lily Garland. While the Bluebird cruised in the Western Mediterranean, never spending more than one night away from port, the negotiations dragged their slow length along. About once a-week a hitch appeared, which threatened to bring them to a dead stop, but as King Michael invariably marked these occasions by paying fresh attention to the Grand-Duchess Sonya, matters were smoothed over in some way or other.
The first hitch presented itself just after Mr Hicks’s arrival in Europe, when the ‘Empire City Diurnal,’ a paper which was the unresting rival of the ‘Crier,’ and even more noted for its skill in exploiting sensations, suddenly published what purported to be an interview with an intimate friend of Félicia’s. Her father’s history was detailed in a highly-coloured style, embodying just enough of truth to wring severely the withers of the royal and imperial personages concerned, and ending with a claim, put forward apparently in all seriousness, to the crown of Pannonia itself on Félicia’s behalf. This claim was further pressed in a fervid editorial, calling upon the manhood of the United States to arise and cross the ocean, and sweep to destruction the effete usurpers who were keeping an American woman out of her rights by force and fraud. A subscription-list towards effecting this noble object followed, headed by the proprietor and ending with the office-boy, and the names of eleven volunteers (others were stated to be arriving in thousands) appeared below. The extracts telegraphed at once to Europe raised a ferment in Pannonian Court circles, and the Grand-Duke of Schwarzwald-Molzau was very nearly driven to wash his hands altogether of Félicia and her claims. Cyril happened to be in England at the time, but Mr Hicks succeeded in saving the situation. An expenditure at which the Grand-Duke stood aghast seemed nothing to him, and he cabled whole columns to his own journal. The next day the ‘Crier,’ strong in the indubitable fact of possessing one of the trustees of the claimant on its staff, administered a douche of cold water to the excited public of the ‘Diurnal.’ So far from possessing or advancing a claim to any crown whatsoever, Miss Steinherz was solely concerned to vindicate the good name of her mother; and the ‘Diurnal’s’ polemic was nothing but an attempt to prejudice her in this sacred task by alienating the august relatives who had welcomed the news of her existence with tears of joy, and were only restraining their eagerness to receive her into their midst in order that her claim might be properly substantiated according to law.
“Draw it mild, Hicks!” said Cyril, when they next met, and he read this reply. “Any one can see you had your tongue in your cheek the whole time.”
“Is that so, Count? Well now, I’d bet my bottom dollar you’re the only man that will see the thing was wrote sarcastic. There were tears in the Grand-Duke’s eyes when he read it, any way. And in the States the effect has been colossal, I hear, especially of the paragraph about the ‘Diurnal’s’ stopping the cash-boys’ salaries to stick in its subscription-lists. It isn’t every day a man can make a big scoop for his paper and pat Europe on the head as well.”
In any case, the ‘Diurnal’s’ sensation wilted, as Mr Hicks put it, and no more was heard of it after the paper’s unfulfilled promise to publish the name of the “distinguished lady” who had given the information. The next difficulty came from Mr Steinherz’s elder brother, Don Ramon, who demanded that before he considered her claim, Félicia should prove her good faith by surrendering her fortune into his hands as head of the house of Arragon. Her father’s will provided effectually against this, and led to a deadlock; but as Félicia intimated that her relations’ interests would receive careful consideration from her if the relationship were established, the difficulty was shelved. Then a hitch was caused by the discovery that Konstantia von Lilienkranz was not sufficiently high in rank for even the Emperor to raise her retrospectively to a level befitting the bride of a Prince of Arragon. Cyril replied with the terse advice, “Consult the heralds”; and after a little expenditure of time and trouble Félicia’s mother was provided with a descent which rivalled that of the Schwarzwald-Molzaus themselves. The difficulty which came next threatened to be more serious; for the Church objected to the recognition of the irregular marriage, on the ground that the Pope’s consent to a mixed marriage had not been obtained, and that no provision had been made for the children to be brought up in the Roman Catholic faith. The solution obviously intended was that Félicia should change her creed; but Cyril, on behalf of King Michael, pointed out that this would make her impossible as a Queen for Thracia. The Emperor, to whom the marriage offered a way out of many difficulties, brought a despairing pressure to bear upon the Vatican, and the matter was compromised on the understanding that Félicia should build and endow a magnificent church to her father’s memory. She consented at once, as she would have consented to build a mosque had it been required of her; for the nearer she came to her goal, the more intolerable did the thought of failing to reach it appear. It was a joy to feel that Cyril and Mr Hicks were already discussing how her fortune could best be applied to solve the financial problems of Thracia without infringing the provisions of her father’s will; a greater joy to learn that King Michael’s conditional proposal of marriage had become a definite one; and greatest of all, to receive through Mr Hicks a telegram, half-invitation, half-command, directing her to proceed in her yacht to the Pannonian coast, that she might be presented to her father’s family.
CHAPTER XIV.
FOR PITY’S SAKE.
When Usk returned to England, he found his parents in London, established in a corner of the vast mansion which had been built by Lord Caerleon’s grandfather, the Peninsular General, and much adorned by his son, the Crimean hero, in the palmy days of landowning. Both these veterans took a keen professional interest in battle-pictures, and had embellished Caerleon House with many square yards of warlike frescoes, which their civilian descendant sometimes wished had been painted on canvas, so that they could be removed and sold. When his father’s death, or, strictly speaking, the duties consequent thereon, left Lord Caerleon unable to keep up two establishments, he succeeded in letting the town house on a long lease to a Northern magnate who had made a fortune in sugar-refining, but now sugar, as well as land, had fallen upon evil days. The house was on its owner’s hands once more, and it was cheaper to encamp in some of the smaller rooms than to live in lodgings, especially since Lady Caerleon’s chief desire was for a drawing-room which she could lend for meetings. Thus, while in the state apartments the blinds remained down, and the furniture looked ghostly in holland wrappings, Usk and his parents lived and worked, interviewed political friends and opponents, and furthered various religious and philanthropic schemes, in the modest suite traditionally allotted to the heir of the house, and called the Viscount’s rooms. It did not occur to them to feel ashamed of their obvious poverty, and they found pleasure in entertaining the few, chiefly old friends or fellow-workers, who did not consider that stinted means and lack of “smartness” placed the Caerleons beyond the pale of decent society.
As for Usk, he threw himself so completely into his parents’ interests that he had no time to think even of running down to Llandiarmid, and thus the peace of mind of Gwladys and Myfanwy Jones remained undisturbed. Lord Caerleon’s Temperance measure had hitherto escaped the different snares and pitfalls in its path, and was rapidly nearing the goal which was the usual fate of the Bills he brought forward—a piteous request from the Government for its withdrawal, since to press it further would jeopardise the success of the complete and carefully drawn scheme of reform which His Majesty’s Ministers intended to introduce next session. It is a striking instance of the vanity of human wishes that never in any case did the next session see the introduction of such a Bill.
This was the state of affairs when one afternoon, about the middle of April, Cyril walked into Caerleon House, and found his brother and sister-in-law in the great desolate conservatory, which was sparsely sprinkled with pots of flowers sent up from Llandiarmid. Lady Caerleon thought the conservatory the most country-like place in the house; and her husband preferred it because to smoke in any of the other rooms seemed like sacrilege.