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“You may deduce what you please, sir.”
Harvester smiled bleakly. Rathbone caught it out of the corner of his eye. He tried another approach.
“Were you empowered to make any decisions regarding terms or concessions to Prince Friedrich, Count Lansdorff? Or did you have to refer back to the Queen?”
“There were no concessions to make,” Rolf answered with a frown. “I thought I had made that plain, sir. Her Majesty would not countenance the return of Gisela Berentz, either as crown princess or as consort. If Friedrich did not accept those terms, then another leader for the cause would be sought.”
“Who?”
“I do not know.”
Rathbone thought that was a lie, but he could see from Rolf’s face that it was the only answer he would receive.
“It is a very extreme hatred the Queen has for the Princess Gisela,” he said thoughtfully. “It seems contrary to the best interests of her country to allow such a personal emotion to govern her actions.” It was not really a question, but he hoped it would sting Rolf into a defensive response.
He was successful.
“It is not a personal hatred!” Rolf said. “The woman was unacceptable as Friedrich’s wife … for many reasons, none of which are merely personal.” He used the term with the utmost derision.
Rathbone deliberately turned and stared at Gisela as she sat beside Harvester. She was a picture of grief, a perfect victim. Harvester did not need to defend her from Rolf, her own demeanor did it better than any words of his could have. He looked angry, but satisfied.
Zorah was sitting upright, tense, her face white.
Rathbone turned back to Rolf.
“She seems eminently suitable to me,” he said innocently. “She has dignity, presence, the admiration, even the love or the envy, of half the world. What more could you wish?”
Rolf’s mouth twisted with an emotion which was as much pain as scorn.
“She has the art to seduce men, the wit to make herself the center of attention, and the style to dress well. That is all.”
There was a hiss from the gallery. One of the jurors let out an exclamation of horror.
“Oh, come sir …” Rathbone protested, his pulse suddenly racing, his mouth dry. “That seems, at the very kindest, ungallant and highly prejudiced—at the worst, as if founded in some acutely personal hatred—”
Rolf lost his temper. At last he unbent and leaned forward over the railing, glaring across at Rathbone.
“That you should be ignorant of her nature, sir, is hardly your fault. Most of Europe is ignorant of it, thank God. I would that they could have remained so, but you force my hand. Like any other royal house, we need an heir. Waldo will not provide one, through no fault of his own. That is not a matter I can or will discuss. Gisela is childless of her own choice—”
There was a wave of reaction from the gallery.
Harvester half rose in his seat, but his protest was lost in a general noise.
The judge banged his gavel for silence and a return to order.
Rathbone looked at Rolf, then at Gisela. She seemed almost bloodless, her eyes huge and hollow, but he had no idea whether it was fear, horror, mortification at such public disclosure, or an old grief reawakened.
The noise still had not subsided. He turned to Zorah.
She seemed as surprised and confused as anyone.
The judge banged his gavel again. Order returned.
“Count Lansdorff?” Rathbone said distinctly.
Rolf would not now be stopped. “Had Friedrich put her aside, he could have married a more suitable woman, one who would have given the country an heir,” he continued. “There are many young women of noble birth and spotless reputation, pleasing enough in manner and appearance.” He did not look away from Rathbone, but his face tightened in reluctance. “The Baroness von Arlsbach would have been perfect; she would always have been perfect. The Queen begged him to marry her. She had every virtue, and is deeply loved by the people. Her family is unblemished. Her own reputation grows higher by the month.”
He ignored the people, even the jurors, every set of eyes scanning the benches to see if she was present. “She has dignity, honor, the loyalty of the people and the respect of all those who meet her, native and foreigner alike,” he continued. “But he chose that woman instead.” His eyes flickered for a moment to Gisela and away again. “And we are left barren!”
