Chapter VIII: Love in Idleness

The arrival of Baron von Neuburg, otherwise King Michael of Thracia, did not add to the gaiety of the circle at the Castle. Scarcely more than a boy in years, his face was so curiously old that not only Usk but his father looked young beside him, and his manner was weary almost to the point of exhaustion.

“I don’t take much stock in kings generally,” Félicia remarked to Usk after the new-comer had been presented to her; “but for the sake of the rest I hope this one’s a bad sample.”

“He’s not a particularly good specimen, certainly. Aren’t his ways awfully riling?”

“Yes,” agreed Félicia; “that’s where the difference comes in between him and your uncle. Lord Cyril is just elegant. He has dipped into everything, and got pretty tired, but he don’t advertise the fact. The Baron has done it too, and parades his weariness, and that’s rude.”

“I’m glad you don’t care for him,” said Usk honestly. “He’s not--not the sort of fellow I should like to see you take to.”

“Don’t you know that by saying that you’re just daring me to be as sweet to him as I know how?”

“Oh, I know people say that sort of thing about women, but no nice woman would go and make up to a man of bad character simply because she was warned against him.”

“Then I’m a nice woman? Well, I guess you’ll expect me do something for you in return for that acknowledgment, and I’d admire to teach the Baron a lesson.”

“Not by way of breaking his heart, please.”

“Not while you’re around, any way. But I’d like to have him know what folks would think of him if he didn’t just happen to be a king.”

It is possible that Félicia set to work with all the more gusto that she was conscious of a personal injury at her introduction to the King. To her mind his look had expressed no recognition of the fact that he was being presented to a very beautiful woman. Maimie also had noticed this insensibility, and she commented upon it to Félicia, with a certain lack of tact.

“You see, Fay, he can just tolerate having you around as the future Lady Usk, but it’s quite beyond him to show any interest in an untitled American girl. She’s way down under his feet in the mud somewhere.”

“Well, I guess it’ll maybe interest him to know what the American girl thinks about him.”

“Don’t see how you’re going to have him feel it, any way. Say, Fay, Usk is real devoted, isn’t he? I’m glad you’ve taken him instead of the King now I’ve seen him, don’t you think! He’s solid good right through. He won’t ever have you find out anything new and unpleasant about him. Every day of his life he’ll come to meet you mornings with a flower, just as his father does to Lady Caerleon, and he’ll like nothing better evenings than sit alone with you and read the ‘Times’ out loud.”

“Guess I’ll fix things differently to that.”

“You’d better not. His way will save you a pretty good deal of trouble. He’ll like you to be the same all the time, just as he is. And so’s you’re just decently civil to him, he’ll never be ugly. It’s only with a man like the Baron you need to be smart, for you lose him if he’s away out of your sight a moment.”

“Well, I incline to think the Baron will need to be smart this next week.”

In all probability the Baron was of the same opinion before the week was over. He had come prepared to take the lead in the general conversation, even if he did not monopolise it, and nothing was further from his thoughts than that this little nobody of an American, whom the Caerleons had managed to pick up for Usk on account of her money, should take it upon herself to dispute his right. Young as he was, King Michael had already ruled so long that it seemed to him only natural to be the autocrat of any table at which he sat, and it was whispered that his meetings with other monarchs were few and far between, and also extremely short, by reason of this genial habit of mind. It was a tremendous shock to find himself called upon for explanations, laughed at for his choice of words, even contradicted, and all by a radiant being who flashed provoking glances at him from magnificent eyes, and having annihilated him, turned with irritating nonchalance to engage Usk in a low-toned conversation punctuated with soft looks.

To Usk himself these favours, thus publicly conferred, were the reverse of delightful. His hospitable soul was wounded by the treatment meted out to the guest, and he could not help feeling that it was bad form in Félicia to emphasise his own happier position at every opportunity. When he ventured to remonstrate, however, his only reward was a severe snubbing in private, for Félicia was not to be turned from her prey. Lord Cyril, to whom Lady Caerleon appealed in distress, laughed at the whole thing, and declared that Félicia’s scorn was the best possible tonic for his stepson. To have met her would be a liberal education for him, provided she continued the treatment to the end of his visit, and did not soften towards him for a moment. But there was no need for her to do this. It was enough for King Michael to notice the difference in her manner when she turned to Usk. When a rarely beautiful woman treats one man to nothing but gibes, and lavishes tenderness upon another who looks rather uncomfortable under the process, it is not in human nature not to wish to be in the other man’s place for once.

Maimie had been watching eagerly for the King to reach this point, but here she found herself at a standstill. All this time she had been cultivating the acquaintance of the aide-de-camp, Captain Andreivics, who had accompanied King Michael, and was introduced as his “friend.” She had picked his brains to such good purpose that she knew as much as he did of the King’s circumstances, and had gone far beyond him in the deductions she drew. He could not tell her exactly how the long hours were spent when the King and his stepfather were closeted every morning with vast piles of papers, but she knew. She could picture Cyril exposing pitilessly the extravagance, laxity, and corruption which had spread through every department of State since he had left Thracia, and indicating reforms and economies which would put matters straight if the present crisis could be tided over, but performing no miracle to provide the money urgently needed at the moment. It was from the aide-de-camp, however, that she heard how one morning the King dashed away the papers with the pettish remark, “Really, Count, your brain seems as strong as ever for all these absurd trivialities. Why is it that you refuse to return to Thracia and get me out of my difficulty?” and how the incisive answer flashed forth, “If my brain was as strong as ever, sir, I should not be busy with these trivialities. I should be holding the balance of power in Europe.” She knew that both Cyril and the King had reluctantly come to the conclusion that, failing the much-needed miracle, there was only one thing to be done. The King must journey homewards by way of the Riviera, where the Scythian Princess who had been proposed for his acceptance was sojourning. There was a bare hope that his apparent intention of falling in with the arrangement suggested by Scythia might alarm his Pannonian and Hercynian relations into some attempt to prevent the threatened surrender.

Maimie ground her teeth, metaphorically speaking, over this deadlock. There were Félicia’s millions, far more than sufficient to fill the yawning gulf, for the sum which could bring a Balkan State to bankruptcy was trivial in American eyes, and no one seemed to have thought of making use of them. The King, however much he might admire the girl of whose beauty he had at last become conscious, had not the slightest thought of marrying her, and Cyril would take no step to utilise those convenient millions, even if they ever occurred to him, because Félicia happened to be engaged to Usk. Maimie felt that she had no patience with Usk, who to the injury of existing added insult by hanging about Félicia so perpetually that the King had no opportunity of getting up a flirtation with her even if he desired it. If Usk would only run up to town for a day or two! but he remained in Félicia’s near neighbourhood as persistently as if he had known of Maimie’s designs and meant to thwart them. Captain Andreivics it was who returned to London two days before the time fixed for the King’s departure, and with no better excuse than the stereotyped one of “urgent business,” so that Maimie lost her cavalier.

At last, just when Maimie was gloomily revolving in her mind various desperate expedients for removing Usk from Félicia’s side, the motive force required was suddenly imparted from without. It came in the form of a letter from Mr Forfar, the Prime Minister, to Lord Caerleon, asking whether Usk was still thinking of entering Parliament. If so, he could do a great service to the party (to which the Marquis had always lent a loyal, if discriminating support, since his own entry on public life), by allowing himself to be adopted as the future candidate for a great Northern constituency. The sitting member was old and feeble, but had stoutly refused to tolerate the mention of a successor until recently, when a severe illness had given him a fright. He was now willing to allow a suitable “under-study” to be introduced to the party managers and make himself known in the constituency; and as the supporters of the Temperance cause were well organised and powerful, what more suitable candidate could be found than the son of the life-long Temperance champion? Neither Usk nor his father hesitated a moment in accepting the offer. The great banquet, at which Sir James Morrell had reluctantly undertaken to present his successor to the association which had so often shared with him the sweets of victory, was to take place two nights after the arrival of Mr Forfar’s letter, and there was no time to be lost. Usk dashed upstairs in high excitement to pack his bag, while his father went round to the stables himself to order the dogcart, and Lady Caerleon interviewed the cook on the subject of sandwiches. It never entered Usk’s mind that any one could dream he would let slip this long-desired opportunity, and he sent an eager message by Maimie begging Félicia, who was breakfasting in her own room, to drive to the station with him. When he came downstairs with his bag, however, he found her still in her “wrapper,” as she called the frilled and beribboned garment which Lady Caerleon always felt ought not to make its appearance outside a bedroom. Maimie had insisted on her getting up when she brought Usk’s message, and she was obliged to make a very hasty toilet, much to her disgust. She did not appear to suitable advantage, she felt, unless Pringle’s skilful fingers had proper time for their work.

“Why, Fay, aren’t you coming, then?” cried Usk, when he saw her.

“I guess not,” responded Félicia laconically.

“Well, you’ll wish me joy, won’t you? This is the beginning, you know.”

“Of what? The beginning of the end?”

“What do you mean?” Usk was too happy and too much excited to make any attempt to understand. “Why, it’s my chance at last--what we’ve talked of so often.”

“You have,” corrected Félicia. Then a transient gleam of brightness showed itself. “Canvassing, do you mean? Then I suppose we are all to trail you along?”

“Oh no, that would be a little previous,” laughed Usk. “I’m only going to be introduced to the party. There’s no election on at present.”

“I want to know! You’re leaving me this way just for an ordinary ward-meeting? and you don’t so much as ask me whether I choose to have you go?”

“Why in the world should I think you’d mind? I thought you would be delighted. Why, Fay!” in utter amazement, for Félicia was weeping delicately into a lace handkerchief.

“You said you loved me, and now you’re having the Baron--everybody--see how little you care for me. You just haven’t the very slightest consideration for my feelings!”

Dismayed and astounded, but still utterly puzzled as to the nature of his offence, Usk knelt down hastily by her chair, and alternately entreated her forgiveness and adjured her to tell him what he had done. With him it was a matter of course that the women of a household should send forth their men to the chances of war or politics with a brave face and words of cheer, and he could not conceive Félicia’s feeling hurt at not being consulted. He did not know that Maimie’s triumphant “Now you see just how much he thinks about you!” was rankling in her mind, and that she had set her heart on proving her power over him. When she consented at last to remove the handkerchief from her eyes, it was merely to intimate that he might consider himself forgiven if he did not go. Usk sprang to his feet.

“And lose this chance--give Forfar a slap in the face?” he cried in astonishment. “Why, Fay, you must be mad! You’re joking, aren’t you? You couldn’t possibly mean it.”

“I guess I mean exactly what I say. You’re telling me all the time how much you love me, but I can’t just seem to realise it.”

“You mean that you ask me in cold blood to give up this chance, disappoint my people, offend Forfar, just because--why, it’s for no reason at all!”

“I don’t ask you anything,” said Félicia, rising regally, and throwing him a glance over her shoulder. “I just tell you to do it.”

“Well, then, I won’t,” returned Usk, with equal candour; but as she swept towards the door he intercepted her, breaking into a laugh, “Why, Fay, for the moment I thought you meant it. What a gorgeous scene we have been making over nothing at all! Now you don’t leave this room until you say you’re sorry, and signify the same in the usual manner. There! I’m getting quite a public speaker already.”

“It’s a pity if your future audiences don’t appreciate you better than the present one,” said Félicia coldly. “Kindly allow me pass. If you don’t choose to consult my wishes--well, you’re not the only man in the world, any way.”

“Now it would serve you right if I kept you here until you gave in,” said Usk, “but I hear my father tramping up and down in furious anxiety about the train. I’ll settle this little matter with you when I come back, but any token of penitence in the shape of a letter will receive due consideration. And--just that you mayn’t make yourself miserable thinking I’m angry with you--there! and there! and as many more assurances of pardon as you like.”

He ran along the corridor, still laughing, and Félicia returned angrily to her own room. It was the laughter that annoyed her. Even if Usk had refused to yield, he ought to have taken her objection seriously. He was so sure of her that he thought he could afford to laugh at her, was he? Very well; it might be advisable to show him that he need not be quite so sure.

Maimie, in the meantime, had been taking advantage of the change in the situation. After giving Usk’s message to Félicia, she wandered down to the second of the terraces before the Castle, where King Michael was wont to smoke his after-breakfast cigar. It was his custom to breakfast in his own rooms, and Maimie felt comfortably certain that Usk would not have thought of hunting for him in the garden in order to bid him farewell. When she caught sight of him, he was walking up and down somewhat listlessly, as though he missed the companionship of Captain Andreivics, but she saw a change pass over his face when he heard the tap of her heels on the terrace above. As she came down the steps, she could see him before he saw her, and it gave her a keen delight to see his look of disappointment when he met her at the foot.

“Good morning, Baron!” she remarked cheerfully. “Say, we shall be left awfully lonely to-night, shan’t we--what with the Captain leaving yesterday, and Lord Usk this morning, and you this evening, I suppose?”

“I leave to-morrow,” said the King, looking at her with cold surprise.

“No, is that so? I guess Lord Usk don’t know it, rushing off the way he has. He would never leave Félicia unguarded a whole day.”

“Is Miss Steinherz supposed to be in danger from me?”

Maimie laughed mischievously. “You know your own reputation best, Baron. I don’t see but Lord Usk thought it wasn’t enough to warn Félicia against you, the way he has mounted guard over her.”

“Oh, our friend Usk felt it necessary to warn his bride against me, did he? I think that was not playing the game, as they say here.”

“Well, I guess I oughtn’t to have given him away. He knows his way about, I suppose, and--yes, it was just as well he did it.”

“Why? Has it produced the opposite effect, as usual, and induced the young lady to honour me with her friendly interest?”

Maimie gave him a glance of compassion. “What good would there be in that?” she asked curtly. “No; it just showed Félicia what he expected of her, so’s she concluded to satisfy him at any cost to herself.”

A light seemed to break upon the King. “What! you mean that all this raillery, all the contempt she has poured upon me for a whole week, was nothing but an effort to please her bridegroom?”

“Don’t you try and have me say that Félicia’s an angel,” Maimie admonished him. “I won’t tell you her secrets, any way. And I don’t see but you’ll have to stay till to-morrow as you’ve fixed it so; but I wish you were leaving sooner.”

“Miss Logan’s interest in my movements does me too much honour. Perhaps it will gratify her to know that it is possible I may not even be leaving to-morrow.”

“Ah, I thought that ‘urgent business’ of the Captain’s covered more folks’ affairs than his own. You mean he’ll be coming down with more documents for you to study with Lord Cyril?”

“I had not meant that----” the King was beginning, but as he caught the merest hint of scorn in Maimie’s eye, his face assumed an expression of deep importance. “It is extremely probable. What is the good of an aide-de-camp but to make himself useful?”

“An aide-de-camp--do tell!” cried Maimie. “And you’ve called him your friend all the time! Why, you must be a general, then! Say, General, they promote people pretty young in your country, don’t they?”

“Mademoiselle,” said the King severely, “with a young lady who has contrived to discover so much of my private affairs, it is surely unnecessary to keep up this wearisome farce?”

“M. le Baron,” said Maimie, making him a curtsey, “the farce was of your own providing. If you choose to throw up your part it can’t hurt me, any way.”

“You imply that there is another act, if I care to play it?”

“I don’t imply anything. I’m not taking any risks, if you are.”

“So be it. I take the risk. Andreivics shall arrive from London with important documents. Accept my compliments, mademoiselle. I sent him away because I wished to feel that a few of my secrets still remained in my own possession. You have secured his return by means of a diplomacy which my good stepfather in his best days might have envied.”

Maimie looked him over with a slow gaze of infinite scorn. “I guess,” she said calmly, “that you’re sort of acclimatised to being despised? You seem to lay yourself out for it so naturally. Usk was pretty wise in warning Félicia against you, and she was doing the best for herself when she chilled you off. What she can see in you----”

“Permit me to observe that you are revealing an interesting secret, mademoiselle,” said the King malignantly. “After what you have said it would be ungallant in me not to remain here. I telegraph to Andreivics this morning.”

“Now we begin to be moving!” said Maimie to herself, as she left him in speechless contempt. “He don’t even see that I’m having him go the very way I want him. And now for Fay.”

She found that Félicia, having worked herself up into a high state of resentment against Usk, had determined to punish him by entering upon a flirtation with the King. Maimie shook her head when Félicia declared her intentions.

“I wouldn’t, Fay,” she said. “You’ve done elegantly this far, the way you’ve frozen him off. You’ll only get all of your affairs into a snarl. And what’s more, I don’t believe he’s to be had. He knows just how to take care of himself, and I can’t seem to see you making any sort of impression on him.”

This was all that was needed to put Félicia on her mettle.

“Maimie Logan,” she said decisively, “did you ever know any man that could take care of himself when I was around? I guess Usk will be sorry that he went off this way.”

“Why, what do you mean doing?” Maimie’s tone was full of alarm.

“Oh, just make things uncomfortable a little--nothing more.”

“But if Usk will just stay away four or five days, there’ll be a good deal more,” was Maimie’s mental comment.

“Michael,” said Queen Ernestine to her son four days later, when she had succeeded after many vain attempts in finding him alone, “don’t you think you are paying rather too much attention to Miss Steinherz?”

She spoke timidly, anticipating the black frown which gathered at once upon King Michael’s brow, as he bestowed a mental curse upon Félicia’s methods. It was not in her nature to be content with a secret adoration. The King might waylay her in the garden if he chose, or look for her in her favourite nook in the picture-gallery, and enjoy her society until Maimie, posted judiciously near at hand, felt it her duty to interrupt them, but he must not attempt to hide his chains in public. Hence King Michael’s relations had the pleasure of seeing him dancing attendance upon the whims of a languid beauty, who had vouchsafed to lay aside much of her sharpness of tongue, but still betrayed no delight in his attentions. Even Usk could not have desired more absolute unconsciousness of her conquest than Félicia exhibited.

“Have you ever known me forget my position?” King Michael asked at last, when his mother’s face had grown more and more anxious.

“Never,” she answered, recalling many memories at once humorous and pathetic.

“Then rest assured that I never shall.”

“But, dear,” urged the Queen, “in that case would it not be as well to return to London? It looks--mind, I only say it looks--as if you were taking advantage of Usk’s prolonged absence to rob him of his bride’s affections, and you would not wish to do that.”

“Count Mortimer has already given me a pretty strong hint to go, but I will not leave my work undone.”

“But he told me to-day that it was all finished.”

“On the contrary, it is only half-done,” was the reply, with an enigmatical smile. “Who would have thought I should become so deeply interested in a matter entered upon so lightly?”

“So lightly--when the future of your kingdom and your own happiness may depend upon the arrangements you are able to make?” cried the Queen, in surprise. “You don’t take things seriously enough, Michael.”

“Possibly not, but sometimes things take me seriously, quite against my will.”

* * * * * * * *

“I would just love to hustle some folks a little!” Maimie was reflecting, much about the same time. “Usk will arrive home in a day or two, and I’d like to have things fixed. I never thought the Baron would have so much grit in him, but the way he fights off a definite declaration is real fine. But Fay is even with him there. What with his precious kingdom, and her engagement, they can’t seem to get on at all. And until they do, I can’t step in as fairy godmother to put things straight.”

While the thought was still in her mind, the door opened violently, and Félicia ran in. Flinging herself upon the sofa, she began to cry, not weeping in the artistic way which had damped Usk’s departure, but shedding genuine tears of disappointment and mortification.

“I’ll never forgive you!” she sobbed out to Maimie. “This is the second time you’ve put me in just the most horrid sort of a position. You had me encourage the Malasorte man until he cooled off of his own accord, and now the King has told me in so many words that he can’t ask me to marry him--after having me say I cared for him. I wouldn’t mind so much but for that.”

“Well, you can marry Usk yet,” was the unsympathetic reply.

“After expecting to be a queen!” fresh sobs followed “He spoke so’s I really concluded it was all safe. And you sit there and say nothing. I hate you!”

“Why?” asked Maimie calmly.

“How can I help it when you’re so mean and ugly? You told me you could fix things, and I thought you had fixed them right away. And then you have all of this happen!”

“Now look here, Fay,” Maimie grasped her shoulder. “If I operate my scheme right now, will you promise to give up Usk and marry the King? I won’t go a step without knowing that.”

“I don’t feel like giving him up until you have got things fixed. If they should chance to go wrong, I would just find myself left.”

“It may be some time before they go right, I grant that, but you must take some risks. Well, if I let you stay engaged to Usk for the present, will you break off with him when I give the word?”

“Ye-es, but you’ll have to be quite sure about it.”

“I’ll see to that. Where did you leave the King?”

“On the second terrace. He was real sorry to have to say what he did, but I was so mad I wouldn’t stop,” said Félicia, with a curious kind of self-satisfaction.

“It must be real nice to be able to love folks according to what they can give you!” soliloquised Maimie, as she went in search of the King. “She would accept Usk when there was no other man in view, but now the Baron holds the winning cards--unless there should be any fascinating emperors around before we get things fixed. But here’s the lucky man!”

King Michael was walking from end to end of the terrace, smoking moodily. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets, and the blackest possible frown was on his brow. He was hard hit, Maimie saw, and scarcely likely to welcome the appearance of the person to whom he might consider that he owed his present unhappy frame of mind, but she met him boldly.

“Say, Baron,” she said, placing herself in his path, “is it true you’ve told my Félicia you love her, but can’t marry her?”

“It is, mademoiselle. If you have chosen this terrace as a promenade, I will go elsewhere.”

“Well, if I was a king, I guess I’d marry the woman I loved.”

“Pardon me, I am not only a king. I am a son of the house of Schwarzwald-Molzau, and we do not mingle the blood of Charlemagne with that of--manufacturers.”

“And so you sigh as a lover and obey as a son? But you wanted to marry Lord Usk’s sister once, I know, for Mr Hicks told me.”

The King’s eyes flashed gloomily. “I do not understand this catechism,” he said angrily. “It is intolerable! The Mortimer blood is equal to that of any semi-royal house in Europe, and there were special reasons why a marriage with Lady Philippa would have been very pleasing to my subjects.”

“Well, I guess a marriage with a Princess of Arragon would about satisfy them, any way.”

“Not if she were a Catholic.”

“Is that so? Well, the girl you have just told that you love her and can’t marry her is a Princess of Arragon and a Protestant.”

“Impossible. I know the Prince of Arragon’s three daughters well, and Don Florian’s only daughter is married to another cousin of mine.”

“You are forgetting. There was a third brother.”

“Don José? But he was not married. Oh, I remember there was some talk of a morganatic marriage. But that is not to the purpose.”

“Excuse me, but I guess it’s very much to the purpose.”

“Allow me to say that you do not know how these things are regarded--how I regard them, necessarily.”

“But suppose the marriage was recognised? Wait, I’ll tell you about it,” and she ran through the circumstances hastily. “If the marriage was good enough for the Arragon family to accept Félicia as one of themselves, I guess it would be good enough for you?”

“Undoubtedly; but I do not see the faintest likelihood that the House of Albret would recognise the marriage.”

“That’s where your help would be wanted. I’d like you to lay the whole thing before Lord Cyril to-day, and have him operate it.”

But the King started back, aghast. “My dear Miss Logan, do you not see that it would be fatal--suicidal--for me to appear in the matter? Count Mortimer has his nephew’s interests to consider.”

“That is so; we mustn’t go ahead too fast,” said Maimie. “Then you incline to think Félicia and I may fight all of the battle for ourselves?”

“Quite so. There can be no objection to your consulting Count Mortimer, purely on her behalf, you know; and if by any chance your efforts should be crowned with success, why--you have given me hope--I am happy again!”

“Oh no, you aren’t--not yet. We shall want your help any way. I know well enough there’s no hope of having Félicia’s family recognise her unless some one puts pressure on them. Are you ready to intimate at the critical moment that you are real keen on marrying her, if they can fix things right?”

“That would be highly injudicious. I think I had better not appear----”

“As you please. You throw up your cards, then, and Félicia will just marry Usk.”

“You place me in a most difficult position, but rather than lose Félicia----”

“I thought so. Then you would better go way back to the Riviera right now, and make a little gentle love to the Grand-Duchess Sonya, just to keep your folks sort of interested, you know. I’ll let you hear when you’re wanted.”