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‘But I have my own home…’
‘That is no longer suitable. Countess Ficino has been appointed as your personal lady-in-waiting. She will be responsible for the day-to-day organisation of your diary, and all matters relating to your wardrobe and your official duties. She will also be on hand to instruct you in matters of royal protocol.
‘It is a pity that His Highness Prince Kadir has chosen to arrive ahead of schedule.’
‘Prince Kadir is here? But I thought…’
‘Exactly. However, it seems His Highness was so eager to make the acquaintance of his father and fulfil the promise he made to his mother on her deathbed that he gave into the impulse to arrive early.’
At any other time the stiff disapproval in the Chief Minister’s voice would have amused her. The whole court operated under a routine so regimented and rigid that it was centuries out of date. Any hint of spontaneity was not merely discouraged, but actively stifled, and the prince would very quickly have been made aware of his crime in deviating from the agreed arrangements. Right now, though, she felt too irritated by the way her own life had suddenly been taken over to feel amused.
‘The king fears that it will not be possible to keep his son’s presence confidential for very long and for that reason he has brought forward both the official announcement of their relationship and of your betrothal.
‘The palace’s press officer has already alerted the media to the fact that a very important announcement is about to be made. That is one of the reasons why you were brought into the palace in the way that you were. Men are already working in the courtyard square in front of the palace decorating it ahead of tomorrow’s speech from the king to present Prince Kadir to the people.’
‘Tomorrow?’
The Chief Minister paused to direct her down a long corridor hung with gloomy portraits of past Nirolian heads of state. At the end a flight of marble stairs swept coldly upwards. At the top of them Natalia could see the familiar figure of the elderly countess waiting for her, her hands folded in front of her.
Natalia’s brain was pulsing with questions but she knew there was no point in expecting answers from the elderly courtiers now flanking her. They were too steeped in the traditions of their roles to unbend enough to tell her for instance just what her husband-to-be looked like, and what kind of nature he might have.
Not that it sounded as though she was going to have to wait very long to find out herself, she admitted as she was handed over into the ‘care’ of the countess, who then escorted her up another flight of stairs and down another corridor to a pair of double doors.
‘You will present yourself in the Royal Chamber tomorrow morning at eleven a.m. exactly. From there you witness the king making his official introduction of Prince Kadir to the people of Niroli from the salon adjoining the balcony. You will then wait fifteen minutes exactly before joining them on the balcony, where you will be introduced to Prince Kadir, and where you will both receive the king’s royal blessing on your betrothal and forthcoming marriage.’ She pushed open the doors to the ‘apartment’ inviting Natalia into the large salon that lay beyond them. Natalia’s heart sank as she surveyed the heavy old-fashioned décor of the room. Three young women were standing with bowed heads, each of them dipping a curtsey in turn as the countess introduced them as her personal maids.
Natalia was used to managing her own staff, and she greeted each girl warmly in turn, asking them for their Christian names. She could see that the countess did not approve of this informality but she ignored her disapproval. It was high time that the fresh air of modern life blew away some of the restrictions of court life.
‘It is late, and you will of course wish to sleep ready for tomorrow, but first, it is my duty to tell you that the king has provided you with a new wardrobe to suit your new role, and I have given instructions to your maids as to which outfit you are to wear tomorrow for the official announcement of your betrothal.
‘Additionally, I shall come to you just prior to you making your way to the Royal Chamber to ensure that everything is in order. I should warn you that whilst you are on the balcony the king intends to bestow on you some of the royal jewels that belonged to Queen Sophia. You will of course wear them as well during the formal reception that will follow the balcony announcements, but they are to be returned to me afterwards so that they may be put safely under lock and key.’
A new wardrobe; royal jewels. She should have anticipated something like this, but somehow she had not done so, Natalia admitted. It all seemed so outdated and ridiculous. She had seen the jewels worn by the king’s second wife and she shuddered with horror at the thought of having to be weighed down with anything similar. It went against everything she believed in about the duty to help those less fortunate than herself to allow herself to be used as a display for so much wealth. It was one of her dreams that in time she might be able to influence her husband enough to persuade him to share at least some of the Nirolian royal family’s fabled wealth with, not just Niroli’s people, but all those people throughout the world who were in need. A charity to explore ways to develop better health care for everyone was just one of the things she would like to establish. It was things such as this that would be her reward for becoming Queen, not rows of diamond necklaces.
‘I shall leave you now to prepare yourself for the morning.’
The countess made it sound as though she were about to go to the guillotine, Natalia decided ruefully, and perhaps in some ways she was. After all, her marriage to Prince Kadir would mark a very sharp slicing-off point between her old life and her new and it would certainly sever her from the sexual freedoms that belonged to a modern-day single woman. Why was she thinking that now? Not because of last night, Natalia hoped.
‘If there is anything you should wish for,’ the countess was saying, ‘something to eat, a book to read perhaps, then one of your personal maids will be on hand to bring them to you.’
To bring them to her? What was wrong with her nipping out into the city and getting them herself? Natalia wondered independently as she thanked the countess and waited for her to leave. After all, for now at least she was still merely Natalia Carini and as such free surely to enjoy the anonymity of being just that.
The three anxious-looking young maids looked as relieved to be dismissed as she was to dismiss then, she thought wryly ten minutes after they had gone and she had her new apartment to herself.
Who had used these rooms last? she wondered. Although the beautiful inlaid wooden furniture was polished and dust-free and every surface sparkled under the huge chandeliers, the salon still had an air of disuse and melancholy about it. Huge swathes of silk brocade covered the windows blotting out the light, and the same fabric had been used to cover the baroque-style gilded chairs and sofas scattered around the room. The colour of the fabric at least she could admire, since its sea-green-blue colour, under the light of the chandeliers, was only a few shades lighter than the colour of her own eyes. Natalia suspected it would originally have been chosen to reflect the colour of the sea, which this side of the palace would look out over.
A carpet replicated the intricate plasterwork design on the ceiling. A huge gilt-framed mirror hung above the fireplace reflecting the elegant proportions of the room with its matching pairs of double doors at either side of the opposite w
all. One pair as she already knew led into the corridor, the other pair must therefore take her towards her bedroom.
Beautiful though this room was, it was quite simply not ‘her’. She liked modern, pared-down décor, and simple natural fibres. She was fussy about what she bought, choosing only ‘green’ products, and just as fussy about sourcing them to make sure that the workers who produced them had not been exploited.
The small anteroom into which she had walked had another pair of double doors in it which as she had expected opened into her bedroom.
Her heart sank the minute she stepped into it. The décor echoed, indeed complemented, that in the salon. A huge ornate French rococo-style bed was draped and swathed in the same silk, two further sets of double doors opened off it, both of them open. Through one lay a large bathroom with an enormous claw-footed bath, whilst the other pair led into a large wardrobed dressing room, which, as Natalia discovered when she walked into it, also had a door leading into the bathroom.
Someone had already opened and unpacked the suitcase she had brought with her from Venice. Behind these wardrobe doors lay the new clothes the king was providing her with for her new role. Trying to quell the horrible sinking sensation invading her stomach, she took a deep breath and opened the first pair of wardrobe doors. And then closed them again after one appalled look at the row of stiff satin evening ‘gowns’ and formally tailored silk suits—clothes far more suited surely to Queen Eva then they ever would be to her. Puce, jade-green, peacock-blue were not colours she favoured or that suited her, just as stiff tailoring was not her style. She thought longingly and rather angrily of her own clothes, soft, unstructured clothes in natural fabrics and colours that flowed round her body instead of constricting it.
She couldn’t offend the king by refusing to wear what amounted to a gift from him, although she had no doubt that these garments had been chosen more with the dignity and image of the crown in mind than her feelings.
