To the Court G.o.dmother she tried to present the matter as favourably as possible. "I don't pretend," she said, "that it is quite all we could desire from a mere worldly point of view. But in a case of true love on both sides such as this, his Majesty and I both feel that it would not be _right_ to interfere. And you know what dear Edna can be when she's once set her mind on anything. Besides," she concluded, "we've insisted on their being engaged for a year--a good deal may happen before then."

"It may," agreed the Fairy; "and I shall be very much surprised if it doesn't. But, so far as I am concerned, Princess Edna may bestow her hand as she pleases. I shall never go out of my way to find her a suitor again, I can a.s.sure you!"

It had already occurred to her that the Royal Family might very shortly find Marchenland too hot to hold them, which would relieve her of all responsibility for them. So she saw no reason for interfering with any of their proceedings.

Ruby rushed excitedly up to Daphne's chamber, where she had been hurting her pretty fingers by laboriously unpicking the innumerable jewels from one of the Queen's robes and sewing them on to another. "Oh, Miss Heritage, dear," she began, "it's such _ages_ since I've seen you, and I've such lots to tell you about. Just fancy! Edna's engaged!... No, not Prince Mirliflor! She sent _him_ away the day before yesterday. I can't think why--when he was so perfectly ripping. It's Count Rubenfresser."

"Oh, Ruby!" cried Daphne in dismay. "Not to _him_! How _can_ she?"

"I don't know--but she is. Mums doesn't like it, of course, but she's had to give in, and they'll be married in a year. Isn't it awful?

There's only _one_ advantage about it that _I_ can see--Tutzi will be one of the family now.... Oh, and you needn't go on sewing any more.

Mummy said after lunch that she'd forgotten to tell you she won't want the skirt altered after all, and that you might come down again as usual now."

So Daphne made her re-appearance that evening, and was welcomed by the Court with as much effusion as if they had not seen her for weeks. The Count was there, his towering form more splendidly apparelled, as became his new _role_ of an accepted suitor, and she soon learnt that she was by no means alone in loathing the thought of the engagement. Princess Edna was in such high good humour that she not only deigned to single out Daphne by her notice, but actually offered to present her to her _fiance_--an honour from which Daphne had the courage to beg that she might be excused.

"I see how it is, Miss Heritage," said Edna, with a frown, "You can't understand my rejecting a Prince and preferring some one of so far inferior a rank. I really should not have thought you would be quite so sn.o.bbish as that!"

"It isn't that, Princess Edna," said Daphne desperately. "It's because--I'm sure--I can't explain why, but I am sure he's bad--_really_ bad!"

"If you mean by that--that he is not a pattern of virtue like Prince Mirliflor," said Edna, "he is none the worse for it, in _my_ eyes!"

"I meant more--much more than that. But I ought not to have said anything."

"Oh, pray go on. In fact, I _insist_ on it."

"Well, then, Princess Edna," said Daphne undauntedly, "not only I, but almost everybody at Court, think that a marriage with Count von Rubenfresser would be a horrible mistake."

"So _you_ have joined the league against him, have you, Miss Heritage?"

said Edna. "But, of course, you would condemn anyone who failed to conform to your prim, governessy little notions of right and wrong. I might have known as much! I am only sorry I should have gone out of my way to offer you a privilege you are so incapable of appreciating. You may now retire."

Daphne retreated accordingly. She knew very well that she would have been wiser in her own interests to hold her tongue, and she had certainly done no good by speaking. But for no earthly inducement would she have allowed herself to be presented to that detestable Count. She had been almost forced to speak plainly, if only in the faint hope of opening Edna's eyes to a sense of what she was doing. And though she had failed, she did not in the least regret having spoken. If the other ladies-in-waiting had known of her protest she would have been more idolised by them than ever, but a lingering sense of loyalty kept her from saying anything that might increase their disaffection for "Princess Four-Eyes."

Perhaps the person in the Royal Household who felt the engagement most acutely was the old Court Chamberlain. Queen Selina, returning from a drive the next day, discovered him weeping, or rather absolutely blubbering, in a darker corner of one of the pa.s.sages. "I can't help it, your Majesty," he said, almost inarticulate with emotion. "That the Princess should have scorned such a consort as Prince Mirliflor for one whose parentage--it's too much to bear! I think my old heart would break if I had not once more put a hoop around it. If your Majesty only knew how your subjects detest such an alliance as this!"

"I don't see what it has to do with _them_, Baron," said the Queen. "But they have certainly been less respectful lately. I'm afraid we shall have to take a sack of gold out again on our next drive. I was most alarmed this afternoon by a rude person throwing something into the coach which I quite thought at first was a bomb. However, it turned out to be only a particularly fine turnip, though it very narrowly missed his Majesty's nose. Of course, as the Marshal a.s.sures us, it _may_ have been intended merely as a humble sort of offering, but I should like to feel surer about it than I do. And--strictly between ourselves, Baron--I should be only too thankful if this engagement was broken off. But what can I _do_? The Princess won't listen to _me_!"

"Perchance," said the Baron, "she would allow herself to be influenced by the n.o.ble ladies whom your Majesty spoke of."

"The d.u.c.h.ess of Gleneagles and the Marchioness of Mus...o...b..? Ah, my dear Baron, she might, if they were only here! I know they would do their best to persuade her. But what is the use of thinking of that, when they are both so far away?"

"And doubtless your Majesty is in ignorance of their very whereabouts."

"Oh, they would be in London just now," said the Queen, not displeased to exhibit her knowledge. "The dear d.u.c.h.ess travelled down from the North sometime ago to her town residence in Stratford Place--had her tiara stolen on the journey, Baron--and came to tell me about it at once, poor soul! And--yes, the Mus...o...b..s must be back in that cosy little flat of theirs in Mount Street by this time. They always spend Easter in London, you know."

"In London!" sighed the Baron. "That is truly a far cry from our Marchenland! But your Majesty can see that, in my present spirits, I should make but a sorry figure at Court. Have I your leave to absent myself for a brief period!"

"By all means--as long as you like," said the Queen, who rightly considered that a Court Chamberlain in constant floods of tears would do little to relieve the prevailing depression. And so the Baron did not appear that evening, which might have excited some remark if anyone had happened to notice his absence.

On the following morning Queen Selina paid a surprise visit to the Tapestry Chamber, where her ladies were more or less busy in embroidering "chair-backs" (she was too much in the movement not to know that the term "antimaca.s.sars" was a solecism). It was an industry she had lately invented for them, and they held it in healthy abhorrence.

She had not had at all a good night, and was consequently inclined to be aggressive. "Good morning, girls," she began, "I fancy I heard, just before I came in, one of you mentioning a person of the name of 'Old Mother Schwellenposch.' The speaker, if I'm not mistaken, was Baroness Bauerngrosstochterheimer."

"It was, your Majesty," admitted the Baroness, rising and curtseying.

"And who, may I ask, is this Mother--whatever-her-name is? Some vulgar acquaintance of yours, I presume?"

"If your Majesty is so pleased to describe her, it is not for me to protest," was the Baroness's demure reply, followed by suppressed but quite audible giggles from her companions.

"Why you should all sn.i.g.g.e.r in that excessively unladylike way is best known to yourselves," said Queen Selina. "But I can make allowances for you, considering who your ancestresses _were_! It's true I _had_ hoped when I first came here that, if I could not expect quite the sort of society I had been accustomed to, I should at least have people about me of ordinary refinement! As it is, I often wonder what my dear friends the d.u.c.h.ess of Gleneagles and the Marchioness of Mus...o...b.. would say if they knew the cla.s.s of persons I have to a.s.sociate with. I can fancy how they would pity me. When one has enjoyed the privilege of intimacy with really great ladies like them, one is all the more apt to notice the difference.... Is that you, Baron? Returned so soon? But you shouldn't come bursting in like this without asking for an audience. That is _quite_ against my rules!"

"Your Majesty will, I feel sure, pardon the intrusion when you hear my tidings," said the Baron. "I have the honour to inform your Majesty that your high-born friends, the Grand d.u.c.h.ess of Gleneagles and the Margravine of Mus...o...b.., are now in the Palace!"

"The--the d.u.c.h.ess? And the Marchioness?" cried the Queen. "Nonsense, Baron! It must be some silly mistake of yours. How could they possibly get _here_?"

"In the stork-car, your Majesty," he explained. "I brought them myself.

As they are still sunk in sleep, I have had them laid on couches in one of the vestibules, and instructed the Lady Daphne to remain in attendance."

"Good gracious!" said Queen Selina faintly. She was painfully conscious that her face must be expressing dismay rather than delight, and that her ladies-in-waiting had not failed to notice it. "What a--what a delightful surprise! And Lady Daphne with them, did you say? I--I'll go to them at once!"

If the poor Court Chamberlain had expected any grat.i.tude from his Sovereign when they got outside, he received none. She did not speak to him at all--possibly because she could not trust herself, and she hurried towards the great Entrance Hall at a pace which left him hopelessly in the rear. As she went she vainly endeavoured to think of any possible excuse or apology that she could offer her distinguished visitors, but her chief anxiety was that she might not arrive until after they had awaked, and Miss Heritage had antic.i.p.ated her explanations.

CHAPTER XIII

WHAT THE PIGEON SAID

Daphne was pa.s.sing through the upper gallery, on her way to join the other ladies-in-waiting in the Tapestry Chamber, when she heard a commotion in the great hall below, and, looking down over the bal.u.s.trade, was astonished to see two inanimate female forms being carried by attendants into the vestibule. Baron von Eisenbanden, who was directing them, caught sight of her and beckoned. On descending the jasper staircase, she found him beaming with satisfaction, surrounded by a host of courtiers, guards, and pages.

"All will be well now, my Lady Daphne," he whispered confidentially. "I have brought hither two n.o.ble dames to persuade the Princess to renounce this ill-omened alliance--the Grand d.u.c.h.ess of Gleneagle and Margravine of Mus...o...b.., her Majesty's dearest and most intimate friends. She will surely be overjoyed when I announce their arrival."

Somehow Daphne could not share his certainty. Queen Selina had been careful not to dwell too much, in her presence, on these aristocratic acquaintances, and they certainly had not visited "Inglegarth" while she had been an inmate of the household.

"If I were you, Baron," she said diplomatically, "I should send away all these people before I told her Majesty. I am sure she would rather welcome her friends in private."

He accepted the suggestion, cleared the hall, and bustled away, after committing the still unconscious visitors to Daphne's care.

She found them laid side by side on couches in the vestibule, which was a lofty chamber, panelled in ivory and ebony, with inset opals of enormous size and a ceiling of dull silver. The d.u.c.h.ess was a short, spare, grey-haired and rather homely-looking woman in a black _demi-toilette_ with priceless old lace. Lady Mus...o...b.. was about twenty-six, tall, with a beautiful figure and a pale, piquant face; she wore a rose _charmeuse_ gown that scintillated with _paillettes_; her luxuriant, but just then slightly dishevelled, chestnut hair was confined in a sparkling band, from which drooped a crushed pink plume.

As they seemed on the point of awaking, Daphne, thinking that they would probably prefer to do so un.o.bserved, discreetly left them to themselves.

Lady Mus...o...b.. was the first to recover. She sat up, stretched her white and shapely arms, and yawned widely, revealing her perfect teeth, as she regarded the d.u.c.h.ess with sleepy brown eyes.

"I suppose you are the d.u.c.h.ess of Gleneagles?" she said. "And, if you don't mind, I should rather like to know why you've brought me here--wherever it is."

"I?" said the d.u.c.h.ess. "I've had nothing to do with bringing you. Don't even know who you are--though you seem to have got hold of my name."