Eva Ibbotson - Magic Flutes

And there, among the plump cushions and teddy-bears and ornamental feathers in shell-encrusted jars which Heidi Schlumberger had lovingly collected, lulled by the hooting of the tugboats which came to them through the closed green shutters, the prince and his little dancer gave way to their unquenchable compatibility.

The heat of August defeated even Nerine’s passion for shopping. She returned to Pfaffenstein and Guy, though he kept his suite at Sachers, came with her.

They found the West Tower empty except for Tessa’s old nurse, for the Duchess and the Margravine, leaving a letter of gratitude for Guy, had moved to Vienna to make a home for their niece. Nerine was delighted at their departure and Guy, though he missed the old ladies, shared her relief, for he wanted Tessa back at Pfaffenstein no more than his fiancée did.

He was, in any case, still fiendishly busy. Though the Austrian Parliament was in recess, officials continued to come from the Treasury, some remaining as house guests, and there were long sessions in the library preparing the final drafts of the immensely complicated documents they would present in Geneva. When Guy did emerge from the interminable, stuffy meetings, he took exercise, a point on which Morgan happened to comment when he met David Tremayne returning from the squash court before dinner.

‘Been playin’ ’im again, ’ave you?’ Morgan enquired, anointing the Hispano-Suiza with a polish he mixed to a secret recipe of his own.

David nodded. ‘Got thoroughly beaten, of course. He’s doing a work-out in the gym now.’

Morgan, still polishing, nodded. ‘Taking a lot of exercise, is Mr Farne. Yes, a lot of exercise. Mind you, he’s a man who’s always kept himself fit.’

‘But not as fit as this?’ prompted David. Morgan had been Guy’s batman in the war and knew him as well as any man.

‘Oh, I dunno. ’e ’as patches. I remember after Passchendaele… Young Whittaker got ’is chips then and Mr Farne thought ’e should ’ave got ’im out. Well, ’e did; ’e went over the line and brought ’im back but there wasn’t much to bring back. We went on leave after that and Mr Farne took a lot of exercise then. Squash, tennis, work with the dumb-bells oh, yes, he was very fit that summer. And, of course, when we went up to Newcastle because Mrs Hodge was in ’ospital. Peritonitis, it was, and they got to ’er late because she was looking after a neighbour’s little girl and didn’t like to say she felt poorly. Touch and go it was, for a week, and Mr Farne got ’imself very fit then. Oh, yes. Five ’undred lengths in the swimming baths and beat ’is old fencing master with the sabres. And went up those bloomin’ Cheviots like a bat in hell — covered in snow they were, too. It’s nothing unusual for Mr Farne to take a lot of exercise.’

Silence fell.

‘It will be this loan,’ said David. ‘It must be a great anxiety to him.’

‘That’s what it must be,’ agreed Morgan. ‘Though ’e didn’t seem to notice much that time he took on the Argentinians over the Olinda oil deal. Or the time he grabbed the Uruguay zinc right off Kripper…’

If Guy had hoped that Nerine would now begin to get to know her parishioners, his hopes remained unfulfilled. She had heard of a case of measles in the village which made it quite impossible. ‘Mama always kept me away from infection, you see,’ she explained to Guy, ‘so I have absolutely no immunity.’

But though Guy was so preoccupied, Nerine was far from bored. Owing to the tardiness of the League, Austria’s case was not coming up until October. The wedding, therefore, was now scheduled for mid-November, but Nerine made no complaint at the delay. She had put her wedding dress out to tender among three of Vienna’s leading couturiers and was busy examining the samples of brocade and fashion sketches which came by every post. Meanwhile, she had discovered a new and absorbing activity: she sunbathed.

It was a step not undertaken lightly, for her white skin had always been one of her greatest assets. But while she had kept entirely aloof from the opera company, and would have been hard put to recognize a single one of its members, she had observed the excitement with which the Archduke and Monteforelli discussed the sunbathing soprano. If her eyes had not been so blue, she would have hesitated, but a bronze tan against the azure of her eyes…

So, now, Pooley was sent to find a secluded embrasure on the battlements. Mattresses were conveyed thither, an alarm clock, towels and bottles of ointment. And carefully, increasing the dosage each day, scrupulously turning herself so that nothing got overdone or underdone, Nerine gave herself to the sun.

The results, she could not help feeling, were spectacular. Wandering through the great rooms of the south facade, she saw reflected in the glass-fronted display cabinets, the suits of armour and the silver trays, a golden glowing nymph.

This happy and innocent existence was blighted in a few agonizing moments when one bright morning in early September, she opened the letter from her brother, Arthur, which was propped on her breakfast tray.

Arthur had gone home, not only to escort his relatives back to Pfaffenstein, but also to collect the documents required for Nerine’s remarriage. It was while in pursuit of these, in Whitehall, that he had met an old friend, now in the diplomatic corps, who had told him that Guy Farne had been offered a knighthood — and had turned it down! ‘Apparently he just got that Tremayne fellow to say, no thank you, by return of post! It’s hard to believe, but the chap swore it was true. Mama has taken the news hard, as you can imagine…’

Never had Nerine dressed so quickly. A scant quarter of an hour later, she entered the library. ‘Guy, I must speak to you. I have just had an extraordinary letter from Arthur. He swore that you had been offered a knighthood and had turned it down!’

‘Yes, that’s correct,’ said Guy, putting down the papers he had been studying. ‘A knighthood often goes with this kind of diplomatic stuff. It’s almost routine.’

‘But… you mean, it’s really true? You could have been Sir Guy… I could have been Lady Farne — and you refused!

‘That’s right,’ said Guy cheerfully.

Fury enveloped Nerine. ‘But you had no right! You had no right to do it without consulting me. I’m going to be your wife. You’ve deprived me of status, of a decent position. Why didn’t you ask me what I wanted?’

‘Because I wouldn’t have been influenced, in this case, by your wishes. I bought Pfaffenstein for you, I have entertained and befriended a large number of titled people to whom, candidly, I wouldn’t give the time of day, because I felt — and I do feel — that it is your right to be accepted by society. But I myself will go out of the world as I came into it. The name the Matron chose for me all those years ago is the name I will bear until I die.’

‘But why, why?’

Guy shrugged. ‘Call it pride, if you like. We foundlings are a funny lot. Yes, I suppose it’s a kind of pride. I’ve always made my own name, lived without handles. Even Martha couldn’t have made me change my mind. Not that she would have tried.’

‘Even Martha! You mean that… that washerwoman would have had more influence on you than I?’

Guy’s face had tautened, but almost at once he relaxed again and said quietly, ‘No, Nerine. Just that Martha is unsophisticated — to her these things mean a great deal. Whereas you yourself must know how little all this means in the end.’

‘Well, I don’t know. You realize I could have had Lord Frith with a title that goes back to Domesday. You might have made it up to me.’ She felt the beginning of tears and, with a great effort, suppressed them. Tears had worked well at seventeen, but of late she found that they made her blotchy. ‘I suppose you’re a republican like that ridiculous princess of yours,’ she sneered.