The Lady in the Car

“What a splendid ornament!” he remarked, as though he had noticed it for the first time.

“Do you like it?” she asked with a smile. “It belonged to my husband’s family.”

“Beautiful!” remarked his Highness, bending closer to examine it, for he had the eye of a connoisseur, and saw that it was probably French work of the eighteenth century.

“Many people have admired it,” she went on. “My husband was very fond of jewellery, and gave me quite a quantity. I never keep it here, however, for a year ago an attempt was made to break into the place.”

“So you keep them in a safe deposit?” he exclaimed; “and quite right, too. Diamonds are always a sore temptation to burglars.”

“I’m asking a few people to dinner next Wednesday, and am sending to the bank in York for some of my ornaments,” remarked the widow. “I hope they’ll be safe here. Since the attempt by thieves, I confess I’ve been awfully nervous.”

“Oh, they’ll be safe enough,” declared the audacious adventurer, taking a fresh Russian cigarette from his case.

“I hope so. I have invited a few people – the best in the county – to meet your Highness. I hope you won’t object.”

“Not at all,” he replied affably. “Only, as you know, I much prefer to remain incognito.”

“You’re one of the most modest men I’ve ever met,” she declared, in a soft voice, intended to be seductive.

“I find life as a commoner much more agreeable than as a prince,” he responded. “In incognito, I always enjoy freedom of speech and freedom of action, which, as a royalty, it is impossible to obtain.”

The widow’s mind was ever active. She was straining her utmost to fascinate her guest. The difference in their ages was really not so very great. Her secret hope was that she could induce him to make a declaration of love. Fancy her, plain Mrs Edmondson, ridiculed by the county and only tolerated by a certain section of it, suddenly becoming a princess!

Milnthorpe was a beautiful old place, but to her it was but a sepulchre. She hated it because, while in residence there, she was buried alive. She preferred Monte Carlo, Paris, or even Cairo.

“Then the dinner-party will be a very smart one?” he remarked for want of something better to say. “And my hostess herself will surely be the smartest of them all,” he added with a bow and an intent to flatter.

“Ah! I fear not,” replied the widow with a slight sigh. “I dare say the diamonds which poor Tubby gave me are as good as any worn by the other women, but as for smartness – well, Prince, a woman’s mirror does not lie,” and she sighed again. “Youth is but fleeting, and a woman’s life is, alas! a long old age.”

“Oh, come!” he laughed, lounging back in his chair. “You haven’t yet arrived at the regretful age. Life is surely still full of youth for you!”

She was much gratified at that little speech of his, and showed it.

He continued to flatter her, and with that cunning innate within him he slowly drew from her the fact that she would not be averse to a second marriage. He was fooling her, yet with such cleverness that she, shrewd woman that she was, never dreamed that he was laughing at her in his sleeve.

So earnest, so sensible, so perfectly frank and straightforward was he, that when after half an hour’s tête-à-tête she found him holding her hand and asking her to become Princess, she became utterly bewildered. What she replied she hardly knew, until suddenly, with an old-fashioned courtliness, he raised her fat, bejewelled hand gallantly to his lips and said:

“Very well. Let it be so, Mrs Edmondson. We are kindred spirits, and our souls have affinity. You shall be my princess.”

“And then the old crow started blubbering,” as he forcibly described the scene afterwards to the Parson.

For a few moments he held her in his embrace, fearful every moment that the ferret-eyed Italian should enter. Indeed, his every movement seemed to be watched suspiciously by that grave, silent servant.

They mutually promised, for the present, to keep their secret. He kissed her upon the lips, which, as he declared to the Parson, were “sticky with some confounded face-cream or other.” Then Ferrini suddenly appeared, and his mistress dismissed him for the night. The Prince, however, knew that he would not retire, but lurk somewhere in the corridor outside.

He stood before the old Jacobean fireplace, with its high overmantel of carved stone and emblazoned arms, a handsome man who would prove attractive to any woman. Was it therefore any wonder that the ambitious widow of the shipbuilder should have angled after him?

He had entirely eclipsed the Parson.

First their conversation was all of affection; then it turned upon something akin, money. Upon the latter point the Prince was utter careless. He had sufficient, he declared. But the widow was persistent in telling him the state of her own finances. Besides the estate of Milnthorpe, which produced quite a comfortable income, she enjoyed half the revenue from the great firm her husband had founded, and at that moment, besides other securities, she had a matter of seventy thousand pounds lying idle at her bank, over which she had complete control.

She expected this would interest him, but, on the contrary, he merely lit a fresh cigarette, and having done so, said:

“My dear Mrs Edmondson, this marriage of ours is not for monetary interest. My own estates are more than sufficient for me. I do not desire to touch one single penny of your money. I wish you to enjoy your separate estate, and remain just as independent as you are to-day.”

And so they chatted on until the chimes of the stable clock warned them it was two in the morning. Then having given him a slobbery good-night kiss, they separated.

Before his Highness turned in, he took from his steel despatch-box a small black-covered book, and with its aid he constructed two cipher telegrams, which he put aside to be despatched by Charles from the Whitby post office in the morning.

The calm, warm summer days went slowly by. Each afternoon the widow – now perfectly satisfied with herself – accompanied her two guests on runs on the Prince’s “forty” – one day to Scarborough, the next over the Cleveland Hills to Guisborough, to Helmsley on to the ruins of Rievaulx, and to other places.

One afternoon the Parson made an excuse to remain at home, and the widow took the Prince in to York in her own Mercédès. Arrived there, they took tea in the coffee-room of the Station Hotel, then, calling at a solicitor’s office in Coney Street, appended their joint names to a document which, at the widow’s instigation, had already been prepared.

A quarter of an hour later they pulled up before the West Riding Bank in Stonegate, and though the offices were already closed, a clerk on duty handed to the widow a box about eighteen inches square, tied with string, and sealed with four imposing red seals. For this she scribbled her name to a receipt, and placing it in the car between them, drove back by way of Malton, Pickering, and Levisham.

“This is the first time I’ve had my tiara out, my dear Albert, since the burglars tried to get in,” she remarked when they had gone some distance, and the Mercédès was tearing along that level open stretch towards Malton.

“Well, of course, be careful,” answered her companion. Then after a pause he lowered his voice so the chauffeur could not overhear, and said: “I wonder, Gertrude, if you’ll permit me to make a remark – without any offence?”

“Why, certainly. What is it?”

“Well, to tell the truth, I don’t half like the look of that foreign servant of yours. He’s not straight. I’m sure of it by the look in his eyes.”

“How curious! Do you know that the same thought has occurred to me these last few days,” she said. “And yet he’s such a trusty servant. He’s been with me nearly two years.”

“Don’t trust him further, Gertrude, that’s my advice,” said his Highness pointedly. “I’m suspicious of the fellow – distinctly suspicious. Do you know much of him?”

“Nothing, except that he’s a most exemplary servant.”

“Where was he before he entered your service?”

“With Lady Llangoven, in Hertford Street. She gave him a most excellent character.”

“Well, take my warning,” he said. “I’m sure there’s something underhand about him.”

“You quite alarm me,” declared the widow. “Especially as I have these,” and she indicated the sealed parcel at her side.

“Oh, don’t be alarmed. While I’m at Milnthorpe I’ll keep my eyes upon the fellow, never fear. I suppose you have a safe in which to keep your jewels?”

“Yes. But some of the plate is kept there, and he often has the key.”

His Highness grunted suspiciously, thereby increasing the widow’s alarm.

“Now you cause me to reflect,” she said, “there were several curious features about this recent attempt of thieves. The police from York asked me if I thought that any one in the house could have been in league with them. They apparently suspected one or other of the servants.”

“Oh!” exclaimed the Prince. “And the Italian was at that time in your service?”

“Yes.”