An Uncrowned King Chapter 8 Part 6

“There has been frightful mismanagement somewhere!” he cried, charging into the secretary’s office on the very morning of the municipal ball, after Cyril had with difficulty restrained him hitherto from issuing edicts for the suppression of the offending newspapers and the expulsion of the American special correspondent. “This is the point to which your diplomacy has led us, milord. Here is the editor of the ‘Empire City Crier’ telegraphing to this Mr Hicks, ‘Cable immediately full particulars of Miss O’Malachy’s appearance, style of dress, taste in perfumes and bonbons. All the latest novelties here are named after her. Send any recent portraits.’ And here in Bellaviste we have the whole female population, from the wives of the Ministers to the shop-girls, crowding the street in front of the hotel to catch a glimpse of her, and insisting on dressing their hair like hers. It is intolerable!”

“It is,” assented Cyril. “But I hope this state of affairs will come to an end to-day. If it does not, I shall perceive that in some way or other you have failed to adhere to our compact. Have confidence in me, and you will see that it will be all right. Only you must be absolutely passive at the ball to-night; and if you happen to miss my brother from the room at the same time as Miss O’Malachy, merely try to cover his absence as far as possible. If you don’t, I give you fair warning, I’ll advise her to marry him.”

“Naturally I will keep to our agreement, milord,” said M. Drakovics, and went away unhappy. But Cyril was doomed not to be left in peace this morning. Another visitor was announced—this time the O’Malachy, who entered with his most military air, and with a look of repressed sadness on his face.

“Come to play the outraged parent!” groaned Cyril, mentally, and he was not mistaken. The O’Malachy refused to take a chair, and stood tall and solemn in the middle of the floor, looking at Cyril more in sorrow than in anger.

“Lord Cyrul,” he said, “I’m aware that your position and ours have changed since circumstances first introjuced us to each other. But I am still a father, with a father’s feelings, and the representatuv of the ancient kings of Leitrum is not a man that can rightly be slighted. I’d willingly have remained with me family in our modust obscurity, but we have been removed from ut by the King’s action. I am not an ambitious man, there’s no one can accuse me of thrusting me daughter upon his Majusty, but neither will I have a slur cast upon her. You know as well as I do how greatly your brother sought me daughter’s presence until a week ago. Since then he has never come near her, and people are talking. I ask you plainly, what are his Majusty’s intentions?”

“The most honourable possible,” replied Cyril, with suitable seriousness. “I may mention to you, in the strictest confidence, that my brother is hoping to propose to Miss O’Malachy at the ball to-night. Of course she will be there?”

“The last thing I heard was that she did not dance, and would not come,” said the O’Malachy, ruefully. Cyril smiled.

“I think Madame O’Malachy will be able to induce her to come, if you take them a special message from me to say that her presence is indispensable,” he said.

“Ah now, if you could write that to them in the King’s name?” suggested the O’Malachy, brightening.

“Wouldn’t you like to have it to show?” thought Cyril. Aloud he added, “I think you must know, O’Malachy, that M. Drakovics is bent upon the King’s marrying some lady belonging to a royal house. Under these circumstances, it is as well not to give him any opportunity of interfering until my brother has settled things with Miss O’Malachy. Such a paper as you propose might lead to complications with him.”

“I dislike all this secrecy greatly,” grumbled the O’Malachy. “Why would not his Majusty have given some public hint of his intentions? ’Twould have been an excellent opporchunity when he gazetted umself honorary colonel of the Carlino Regiment.”

“My dear O’Malachy, would you have him imply that your daughter was ready to jump at his offer?” asked Cyril, and he looked rather nonplussed.

“I’ll not keep you longer now,” he said, moving towards the door. “You understand, Lord Cyrul, that in case of—of an alliance between your family and mine, me wife and I would esteem ut alike our juty and our pleasure to place what little experience and influence we may possess at the disposal of his Majusty and the Thracian Government?”

“What a double-dyed old traitor he is!” thought Cyril, as he returned from seeing his visitor to the door. “I believe I should prefer his enmity to his friendship.”

And having disposed of the matter satisfactorily, he applied himself to more important business, not thinking again of the evening until it was time to dress for the ball.