A Collector of Hearts (2 page)

“Thank you erm…Miss…”

“Anderson. Anna Anderson.”

“Sorry, I’ve met so many
people. I’m Caroline Conrad, companion to Mrs Oakengate.”

“It is hard to remember
everyone’s name, isn’t it? You employer is a real grande dame, isn’t she? I
feel I should know her.” Mrs Oakengate had wandered off to speak to someone
more important.

“She’s Victoria Oakengate. A
very famous actress,” Caroline added for emphasis. “She played Juliet at the
age of fifteen. Or it may have been thirteen. I forget which.”

“Oh that’s Victoria
Oakengate. Wasn’t she the lover of Prince Albert? The younger brother of the
late King Philip of Cariastan?”

“That’s right, yes. Before
her marriage. Although she doesn’t use the word lover so I’d advise you not to
say it in her hearing. Things, she tells me, were much more innocent then.”

“Of course. All men give
away a priceless diamond … innocently.”

Caroline could not help but
smile. It was what she had thought but been too kind to say when Mrs Oakengate
told her the story. “So,” said Caroline, wanting to change the subject. “This
prince. He’s the son of Prince Albert, isn’t he?”

“Yes, so the rumour goes. So
the story goes Prince Albert made a much frowned upon union with a chambermaid
about thirty years ago, and this prince was the result. The union was then
hushed up and Prince Albert married a proper princess, but they had no
children. When the king died failing to name an heir, they searched for Prince
Henri. But he and his mother had disappeared. Some think that they were
murdered by the Cariastan secret police. Others think they were just a myth.”

“But now he’s back.”

“Yes, he came forward a
short time ago, but with things as they are in Cariastan, with Russia just
about to annexe them due to Hitler’s antics, the chances of him being able to
go there and claim his throne are slim. Oh there’s my boss.”

Stephens was escorting a
blonde, of the type who would only be fleetingly beautiful, from the back of
the house. “Sorry,” she was saying. “I was sure the dining room was that way.”
She spoke in a baby voice, like a five year old, who had lost her mummy.

“No, Miss, that was the
kitchen.”

“It had a big table.”

“That was for preparation,
miss.”

“Oh, I see. Anna, there you
are. I told you to wait for me. I got lost.” The blonde gave a high-pitched
giggle that Caroline felt sure would bring the candelabra crashing to the
ground.

Soon after their host, Jack
Henderson, and his wife, Penelope appeared at the top of the staircase. Jack
was a handsome and distinguished man in his mid-forties. A heartthrob matinee
idol turned film director. His wife was around thirty years old, and
breathtakingly glamorous with sleek blonde hair and wearing a tight fitting
blue silk dress, as befitted a film actress.

“Good evening,” said Jack.
“We hope you are enjoying our humble abode.” Laughter followed. The abbey was
anything but humble. “At least for this week. Though I’ve a hankering to buy
this old abbey and live in it forever. I know I’ve thanked you all for coming,
but I would like to say it again. Remember that if you need anything, you only
have to ask. There is plenty of wine on stock and the servants are primed to
make sure it flows freely.” He paused as if what he had to say next was of
extreme importance. “Now, it is with great honour that I introduce our special
guest, Prince Henri of Cariastan.” Jack raised his right arm in a dramatic
flourish

Caroline half hoped and half
dreaded it would be the man she met in the lane, and felt her stomach tie into
a knot accordingly. She was not the only one waiting with bated breath. The
entire assembly of guests turned their faces up to the galleried landing, to
get their first glimpse of the mysterious prince. At first all they saw was a
large shadow moving across the wall. The shadow became a man, and finally he
appeared at the top of the staircase, next to his hosts.

If the audience were
disappointed they were all far too well-bred to show it.

Caroline’s relief was tinged
with a little disappointment. He was not her handsome stranger.
 
The man at the top of the staircase was
hardly the epitome of a handsome prince at all, but she was realistic enough to
know that princes seldom were like those found in fairytales. The stranger she
had met in the lane was well over six feet tall, whereas the prince could not
have been much more than five feet four inches. Her stranger had also been, as
far as she could tell, lean in build. The prince was rather portly, and
slightly balding. If Caroline had not been told the prince was near to thirty
years of age, she would not have believed it. He looked older, by at least ten
years. It was true he dressed as a prince should dress, in a black tuxedo, with
a purple sash, and several medals pinned across his chest, and his black hair
was slicked back to perfection. He bore himself proudly, and waved regally.
Yes, he definitely behaved as a prince should behave, thought Caroline. She put
her feelings of unease and anti-climax down to the stranger in the lane appearing
in far more romantic circumstances, thus building up her expectations.

Someone in the audience
remembered their manners and started to clap, rapidly followed by all the other
guests. To the sounds of rapturous applause, the prince descended the staircase
with his hosts, who proceeded to introduce him to all the other guests.

Chapter Three

Caroline dutifully curtseyed
when the prince reached her. He paused by her a little longer than he had with
the other guests, searching her face in a manner that made her feel
uncomfortable. “Enchante, mademoiselle,” he said, kissing her hand. She saw Mrs
Oakengate’s eyes narrow. When the prince had moved on to the dizzy blonde
actress, she fought the compulsion to wipe the back of her hand on her dress.

           
“Oh, your royal majesty,” said the dizzy blonde. “I have
never met a real prince before.”

           
“And I have never met an actress before,” said the
prince, bowing and therefore making eye contact with the dizzy actress’s rather
noticeable cleavage. Jack Henderson, standing next to the prince, frowned a
little.

           
“Really, your highness, I thought…” He paused. “No,
perhaps I’m mistaken.”

           
“What?” said the prince.

           
“I thought you had invited this young lady.”

           
“Ah, yes, I did. I have never met an actress before, but
I love films, and I saw this young lady in one a few months ago and desired to
meet her. I hope that did not cause any problems.”

           
“Not for me it didn’t.”

“Caroline,” said Jack
Henderson, when all the guests had met the prince formally, and had started to
mingle in groups awaiting dinner, “the prince has just remarked on your
likeness to Lady Cassandra. I can see what he means.”

“So can I,” said Penelope
Henderson. “You could easily be her. You’re not going to turn us all into frogs
are you, Caroline?”

“Not today,” said Caroline,
smiling politely. That was the second time today she had been likened to a
witch. Instead of it amusing her, it left her feeling uneasy. She mentally told
herself not to be so silly, and wondered what was wrong with her today.

Mrs Oakengate appeared at
her side and muttered, “I did warn you not to push yourself forward, dear
girl.”

“I didn’t Mrs Oakengate,
honestly.”

“Ah,” said the prince,
joining their little group. “It is Mrs Victoria Oakengate, is it not?”

“It is, Your Highness.” Mrs
Oakengate curtseyed, and had to helped back up by Caroline.

“My father’s first love. Oh
yes, that is true.” He waved away Mrs Oakengate’s half-hearted protestations.
“I have heard the story, but had not realised quite how beautiful you were. And
still are. I hear you are to wear the Cariastan Heart on Saturday night.”

“That is so, Your Highness.
With your permission, of course.”

“Of course. Nothing says
adoration like a large diamond, yes?”

Mrs Oakengate laughed. “I
like to think I brought glamour and excitement into your father’s life. I’m
afraid I did not know your mother …”

“Nor I, for she died when I
was a child.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.
Is it true she was a chambermaid?”

One thing Caroline did like
about Mrs Oakengate is that she was not afraid to ask the questions that
everyone else hesitated to ask.

“A poor, but honest woman,”
said the prince.

“Of course. And no doubt she
had some blue blood in there somewhere for your father to notice her.”

“You must tell me, Mrs
Oakengate, about your time with my father. I know so little of his life, and
you are just the woman to fill in the gaps for me.”

“I will tell you all I can,
Your Highness. He was a charming man. Very tall and very handsome.” She looked
Prince Henri up and down and like many of the other guests, appeared to find
him wanting. “I daresay you take after your mother’s side.”

Penelope Henderson choked on
her cocktail.

“In looks, yes,” said the
prince. “But like him I know the value of a beautiful and faithful woman.”

The butler, Stephens,
appeared at Jack Henderson’s side, and handed him a note. As he read it, Jack’s
eyes widened. “Excuse me,” said Jack. “Someone has arrived unexpectedly. Take
him to the sitting room, Stephens and set another place for dinner just in case
our guest wishes to stay. Penelope, why don’t you take everyone in, darling,
and I’ll join you soon.”

They were seated and
awaiting the first course when Jack Henderson arrived with the new guest. “Your
Royal Highness, my lords, ladies and gentlemen, please allow me to introduce my
good friend, Blake Laurenson.”

Caroline looked up and her
heart flipped a somersault. It was the man from the lane, and he was every bit
as handsome as she had imagined him to be.

“Please, Blake, take a
seat.” Jack moved to the head of the table, whilst Blake sat directly opposite
Caroline. He smiled across at her, sending her heart into a triple loop. “Blake
here is a very promising young film director whom I have taken under my wing,”
said Jack.

“Yes, I was in the area and
heard there was a party at the abbey. I actually wandered up to have a look at
the place earlier and met Caroline here in the lane.” He winked across at
Caroline. “Imagine my delight when I heard in the pub that it had been taken
for the week by my good friend, Jack Henderson.”

“You must stay,” said Jack.
“I’ll have Stephens find a room for you.”

“Darling…” said Penelope,
her eyes quizzical.

“I am sorry, darling, I
hadn’t introduced you properly. Blake, this is my wife, Penelope.”

Blake bowed his head. “Jack
has told me so much about you.”

“I wish I could say the
same,” said Penelope, giving him her most charming smile. She did not appear to
mind such a handsome addition to their party. As Caroline looked around the
table she could see why. Most of the men were middle-aged film directors, but
unlike Jack Henderson had never been good looking enough to appear in front of
the camera. There was one man, a diplomat called Count Chlomsky who looked as
though he might have been handsome in his younger days, in a very foreign way,
but Caroline guessed he was nearing seventy years of age. There were a couple
of younger men, but they had yet to, as her Aunt Millie would delicately put
it, grow into their looks. There was a definite shortage of young, good-looking
men. She imagined that the women would be fighting over Jack Henderson and
Blake Laurenson when it came to dancing at the masked ball.

“We were not expecting other
guests,” said Prince Henri. He sounded a little unhappy about the new arrival.

“I do apologise, your
highness,” said Jack. “I know we cleared the guest list with your advisors, and
this is a bit of an imposition, but I could hardly leave one of my best friends
sleeping in a room above the local pub. I can vouch for Blake being a good
sort. Now, shall we eat before the soup gets cold?” His words had a finality
about them, as if he would brook no further arguments, not even from a prince.
It occurred to Caroline that he might have behaved somewhat differently in the
presence of English royalty, before chiding herself for the uncharitable
thought. Jack Henderson seemed to be a decent enough man.
 

“Tell me, Mr Laurenson,”
said the prince as they ate the soup course. “What films have you worked on?”

“I’ve recently been working
with Alfred Hitchcock,” said Blake. “As a runner on some of his films.”

“A runner?” said the prince.
“Is that not someone who runs errands for the actors and director?”

“That’s right.”

“But my good friend Mr
Henderson says you are an up and coming director.

“We all have to start
somewhere. The best way of learning the film industry – any industry in fact –
is from the bottom to the top.”

Caroline wondered why it
mattered so much to the prince where Blake Laurenson came from. She felt as
though she had started to watch a film somewhere in the second half and was not
sure who the main characters were or what motives they had. So much was not
being said.

“Quite right,” said Jack,
nodding. “But I promised Penelope no shop talk, so let’s discuss something
else. What does everyone think of Hitler?”

There was a general discussion
about the German leader and his policies, which to Caroline, was hardly the
lesser of two evils.

“What films?”

Everyone stopped talking and
looked towards the prince who had spoken those words. The air crackled with
tension.

“Excuse me?”