Lord Caerleon and his son drove into Aberkerran to meet the travellers, and afternoon tea was postponed until their return. This was a fresh grievance for Félicia, who declared herself as limp as a rag. In the intervals of eyeing the tea-table thirstily, she spared a little mild wonder for Lady Caerleon, who was moving nervously about the hall, altering the position of the furniture and rearranging the folds of curtains. The brougham drove up, and Lady Caerleon flew to the door to receive the white-haired lady whom her husband led up the steps. Félicia’s quick eye noticed at once that the visitor was wearing the most magnificent sables she had ever beheld, but her amazement was extreme when she saw Lady Caerleon only checked in a deep reverence by the newcomer’s seizing her hands and kissing her on both cheeks.
“Do tell, now!” whispered the astonished observer eagerly to Maimie. “Aren’t these English people real stiff? or is it because Lady Caerleon is a foreigner?”
“Nadia, my dear sister!” the visitor was saying reproachfully, as Maimie shot a glance of scorn at Félicia, “you will astonish your young friends. Present them, please—I mean, you will introduce them, won’t you?”
As Lady Caerleon complied with the request, in a curiously flurried manner, Félicia noticed that the stranger’s face did not look old, in spite of her white hair, and that she had a very sweet smile. In her bearing there was something so dignified, notwithstanding the gentleness of her words and looks, that Félicia felt as if she was being presented at Court. In Lady Cyril’s presence she suddenly saw herself as an outsider, and began to feel nervous about her manners and uncomfortable about her voice.
“But I’ll watch and see how she fixes things,” she told herself, with returning confidence. “I guess an American woman can just make herself over if she wants to, and not be beaten by any Eu-ropian court lady.”
Lord Cyril’s greeting restored her self-complacency. He was “just ordinary,” she decided at a glance, small and grey-haired, with blue eyes and unobtrusive manners, but he expressed it as his opinion that Usk was a very lucky fellow, which showed him to be a person of discernment. He had brought a secretary with him, it appeared, and his wife a lady companion, but Lady Cyril’s son, Baron von Neuburg, had been delayed on the Continent by the breakdown of a train, and would not arrive till the next day. Félicia was still oppressed by a sense of mystery. Why did Lady Caerleon seem to leave the initiative in everything to her sister-in-law, and why was Lady Cyril constantly on the point of taking the lead in another person’s house, to the obvious amusement of her husband? The secretary and the lady companion, who were introduced as M. Paschics and Mlle. Mirkovics, were stiff and silent, and appeared, no doubt unintentionally, to disapprove of what was going on; and, most unpardonable of all, Usk’s attention seemed to be devoted chiefly to his aunt, and not to his betrothed. It was not until tea was over, and the visitors had been shown to their rooms, that Félicia was able to mark her sense of his behaviour by refusing to come into the garden with him to see if there were any primroses out. Instead, she went upstairs with Maimie.
“Well!” she said, when they were in their own room, “I would like to know what’s come to all of the folks. Lady Cyril’s only a dowdy old thing after all, though her sables are too sweet for words, but they all treat her just like a queen.”
“And she is a queen,” said Maimie impatiently, “and her sables were given her by the Emperor of Scythia. She is Queen Ernestine of Thracia, who married Count Mortimer two years back, as Mr Hicks has told you time and time again, and her son, who comes here incognito to-morrow as Baron von Neuburg, is the King of Thracia. I meant you to marry him.”
“Land alive!” was all that Félicia could say.
“I wanted to make you an empress, and you threw away your chance,” went on Maimie bitterly. “And this time I was going to have you marry a king, and a week before he comes you conclude to get engaged to Usk!”