"By Jove," said I, "there's Bra.s.set. He is mounted on a far better scale than we are. The very man! I'm sure, if the matter were mentioned to him, he would feel himself highly honoured."

"Yes," said Fitz, "it is not half a bad idea. I will mention it to Sonia."

"Of course, my dear fellow," I explained, "you understand that my wife and I immensely appreciate the honour of entertaining the King of Illyria, and if we only had more resources we should be only too grateful for the chance. I hope you will make that quite clear to the Princess."

Solemnly enough the son-in-law of Ferdinand the Twelfth promised that this should be done, and I descended to the drawing-room in a more equable frame of mind. I was able to eat my dinner in the happy belief that my inspiration had solved an acute and oppressive difficulty.

Emboldened by this reflection and sustained by a sense of danger overpast, I even went to the length of attempting to pave the way for the reception of the happy solution.

"By the way," I ventured to announce to Mrs. Arbuthnot at the other end of the table, "Mr. Fitzwaren has suggested that perhaps it would be more convenient for Count Zhygny and his friend the Baron if Lord Bra.s.set entertained them at the Hall. This seems a most happy suggestion, and I am quite sure that Lord Bra.s.set will consider it a very great honour."

Before I had come to the end of this carefully phrased, and, as I hoped, eminently diplomatic speech, a silent but furious signal was dispatched by wireless telegraphy across the whole length of the table.

A frown of portentous dimension clouded the brow of Mrs. Arbuthnot as she turned ruthlessly to the picture of amused cynicism who sat beside her.

"Really, Mr. Fitzwaren," said she, "that is nonsense. His Maj--I mean to say, Count Thingamy has expressed a gracious desire to come here, and of course, as I have no need to say, we should be the last people in the world not to respect it. We shall only feel too _proud_ and _honoured_, and the longer he stays with us the more _proud_ and the more _honoured_ we shall feel."

"Quite so, quite so," said I, hurriedly. "Those are exactly my views; that goes without saying, of course. But at the same time, Mr.

Fitzwaren agrees with me that the accommodation at the Hall is far superior to any that we have it in our power to offer."

"I didn't say that exactly, old son." Fitz turned the tail of an amused eye upon his hostess. "I rather think that is one of the things that ought to be expressed differently. Rather open to misconstruction, as the old lady said when something went wrong with the airship."

"Irene quite understands what I mean," said I, with the valour of the entirely desperate. "The Hall, don't you know, is one of the show places of the country--ceilings by Verrio, and so on. Then, of course, Bra.s.set's a peer, and, as it were, marked out by predestination to do the honours to Count Zhygny."

There was the imperious upraising of a jewelled paw, in company with a flash of eyes across the rose-bowl in the centre of the table. I was reminded of the lady in Meredith whose aspect spat.

"You are talking sheer nonsense, Odo. Your father is coming here, isn't he, Sonia dear? It is all arranged, and there will be heaps of room. Lucinda will go to Yorkshire to see her Granny; and Jodey can go to the Coach and Horses; and you, Odo, can sleep over the stables, and I am sure that Mr. Fitzwaren won't mind giving up the nicest bedroom to his Maj--I should say, Count von Thingamy. You won't, now will you, Mr. Fitzwaren?"

"I am yours to command, Mrs. Arbuthnot," said Mr. Fitzwaren, with his chin pinned down to the front of his shirt, and gazing straight before him with his smiling but sardonic eye. "And if there is anything I can do to add to the comfort of the Count, I need hardly say that I shall be most happy."

"There!" said Mrs. Arbuthnot, triumphantly. "Not another word, please, else Sonia will think we don't deserve such an honour."

Her Royal Highness regaled us all with a benevolent flash of her wonderful teeth.

As one in the coils of fate, I had to submit with the best grace I could to its decree. So far was the sharer of my joys and the partic.i.p.ator in my sorrows from viewing the prospect of the royal coming with disfavour, that she might be said to revel in it. There was a fire in her eye, a lightness in her step; the mere thought of the glamour that was so soon to invest her household served to envelop her in an atmosphere of mental and moral elevation that can only be described as lyrical.

Later in the evening I received a Caudle lecture upon my absence of tact. "What possessed you, Odo, to talk at dinner in that way! I don't know what dear Sonia must have felt, I'm sure. One would really think, to hear you, that we positively didn't want to entertain the King."

"Let us a.s.sume, _mon enfant_," said the desperate I, "in a purely academic spirit, that almost inconceivable hypothesis."

"Really, Odo, there are times when you seem to take a pride in being _bourgeois_."

"In this instance, my child, the indictment justifies itself. All the same, we are what we are; it is hardly kind to hold any man responsible for his antecedents."

"Don't think for a moment that I blame you because your grandfather was in trade; although, of course, trade was not so respectable then as it is now. Why I blame you, Odo, is because you don't always make the best of yourself. That was almost the only thing dearest Mama had against you. Now, for the love of goodness, let us hear no more about the King going to the Hall to stay with Reggie Bra.s.set!"

CHAPTER XXI

THE EXPECTED GUEST

In the face of this manifes...o...b.. the powers, there was only one course to adopt. That course was submission. Fitz, while professing to sympathise with my embarra.s.sment, was too cynical to help me much. The hospitality of the Hall might be more regal in its character, but then, if the august visitor came to us, think what a snug family party we should be!

The King was due at Southampton that day week, and his dutiful son-in-law proposed to meet him there. In spite of his casual and nonchalant airs, he had an inborn instinct for behaving well on great occasions. Ferdinand the Twelfth having affirmed his determination to visit our sh.o.r.es, it seemed to Fitz that it behoved all concerned to make the best of a bad business. It was a sad bore that he should have decided to do any such thing, but at the same time it might prove an amusing and possibly an instructive experience to have the victor of Rodova dwelling among us in Middleshire.

For Mrs. Arbuthnot these were great days. Almost the first thing she did was to borrow an under-footman from Yorkshire. She also provoked a state of anarchy in the kitchen by engaging for a fortnight a cordon bleu lately in the service of a n.o.bleman. Our much-maligned and occasionally inebriated household G.o.ddess was fairly good for plain dishes, but certainly not for such as were to be set before a king.

Upon inquiry of his daughter as to what dishes would make the best appeal to the royal palate, the Princess was fain to declare that if the victor of Rodova might be said to have a weakness for anything in particular it was for tomatoes.

It was my privilege to be present when, one morning at breakfast, the mandate was issued to Joseph Jocelyn De Vere that for the time being it was necessary that he should seek other quarters.

"I am really so sorry," said his sister in a birdlike voice, "I am really so dreadfully sorry. But what can we do? Two rather important members of the Illyrian Cabinet are coming from Blaenau to see dear Sonia, and of course it is only right that we should put them up."

"That is what all that talk about Count This and Baron That amounts to, is it?" said the young fellow, coolly. "Well, now, Mops, you don't suppose I am going to put myself to the trouble of clearin' out for a couple of bally foreigners, do you? This box suits me very well, and the Coach and Horses is quite a second-rate sort of pub."

"You can have your meals here, of course, but it would hardly be right to send foreigners of distinction to the village inn."

"Foreigners of distinction! Why, it would take the King himself to uproot me."

Such a moment was too much for Mrs. Arbuthnot's dramatic sense.

"Well, it so happens," said she, with a carefully calculated unconcern, "it is the King himself."

Jodey laid down his coffee-cup.

"Tell that to the Marines!" said he.

"If you don't believe me, you had better ask Sonia. Of course, it is a tremendous secret. The visit is a strictly private one, and his Majesty's _incognito_ must be rigidly preserved."

"I should rather think so," said the sceptical youth. "I expect Fitz is pulling your leg."

"Oh no, he isn't," said Mrs. Arbuthnot. "Why should he, pray? The King arrives at Southampton on Thursday, and Nevil will meet him there.

His Chancellor, Baron von Schalk, accompanies him, and they are coming straight to us."

"If it don't beat c.o.c.k-fightin'!"

"It is really quite natural that the dear old King should wish to see his daughter," said Mrs. Arbuthnot, with pensive dignity.

But it is only fair to Mrs. Arbuthnot to say that her dramatic announcement had wrought sensibly upon her brother.

"I suppose there is no help for it," he said, cheerfully. "I expect I shall have to clear out. But I daresay Bra.s.set will find me a crib if I explain how it is."

"There must be not a word of explanation to anybody," said Mrs.

Arbuthnot, with an official air. "Not a soul must know it is the King."

"Bra.s.set will be all right. He's an awfully diplomatic beggar; been an _attache_ at Paris, and so on. You can trust him to keep a secret."

Mrs. Arbuthnot pondered. The gravity of her mien was enormous.