In Brief Authority - LightNovelsOnl.com
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"Really," thought the disgusted Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson, "Mother Hubbard's dog is a fool to her!"
Daphne had already gone to greet her and lead her to a seat. "I'm much better, my child--in fact almost as well as ever. A day or two ago I thought I was dying--but a little rest and the good news of your return have quite set me up again. I begin to think I shall see my second century out yet!"
"It is indeed a marvellous recovery, my dear Court G.o.dmother!" chimed in Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson. "We've all been _so_ anxious! We should have sent to inquire, only we couldn't--because--well, you'll hardly _believe_ it, but we've been imprisoned (and very nearly _executed_, too!) on a ridiculous charge of having made away with our dear young Queen here! When, as _you_ know, I had actually gone out of my way to have her sent to Clairdelune as soon as I found you were too ill to see to it yourself."
"And well for you that you did so!" said the grim old Fairy, "for if you had played--or even sought to play--her false, I would have seen to it--old and ailing as I am--that such treason did not go unpunished!"
Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson s.h.i.+vered inwardly under the implacable old eyes; she knew well that she could expect no mercy if the Fairy discovered that these secret orders had ever been handed to the Baron. Only, as the Baron had never received them, he could tell her nothing, and as the Council now believed them to be a forgery of the Marshal's, Mrs.
Stimpson felt herself fairly safe.
"Yes, dear Court G.o.dmother," she said sweetly; "but you see, I haven't--so we needn't discuss that _now_, need we? When you came in just now, I was just telling her Majesty that we had no desire to stay on at the Palace longer than is unavoidable, but that, naturally, we were anxious to know where accommodation would be found for us--nothing grand, of course, _any_ fairly large _chateau_ would suit us."
"I'm sorry," said Daphne, after stooping to kiss Ruby, "but that is quite impossible."
"Impossible?" cried Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson. "I can't believe that your Majesty would turn us out of our own Palace, without a home to go to!"
"You have 'Inglegarth,'" said Daphne, "and as soon as the Baron returns with the car he shall take you there."
"I am much obliged to your Majesty," returned Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson, her complexion deepening to a rich purple, "very much obliged for such truly generous treatment! Some people might think that, considering that you wouldn't be Queen at all but for our kindness in taking you with us, when we were brought here--by no seeking of _ours_--to reign over this ridiculous country--I say, _some_ people might call this rather shabby and ungrateful. Especially when we gave way the moment we were told there had been a mistake--sooner than make any fuss or trouble--as few Sovereigns in our position would have done! And now it seems we're to be rewarded by being bundled back to a suburban residence which, whatever else may be said for it, is absurdly inadequate for any retired Royalties! But you will find we are not to be got rid of quite so easily. I absolutely decline to go back to Gablehurst to be an ordinary n.o.body after what I have been. Nothing in the world shall induce me to!"
"My love," said her husband, "we can't stay here if we're not wanted."
"No, Mater," said Clarence, "we've got to clear."
"I shall be thankful to get away myself," added Edna. "What is Marchenland, after all?--just a petty little Kingdom that n.o.body even knows is in existence!"
"_You_ may go if you please," Mrs. Stimpson declared. "_I_ shall stay--if I have to sit and starve to death at the Palace Gates! And a pretty scandal _that_ will be!"
"If you were allowed to starve," said the Fairy Vogelflug--"which you wouldn't be, you'd get food enough--but no sympathy. So I should advise you myself to return to your own Country, where you are probably held in more esteem than you are here. And now," she added to Daphne, "I must ask your Majesty's leave to withdraw to my own apartments. I shall be obliged if you would send the Baron to me as soon as he arrives from Clairdelune." And with this, and a stiff but stately curtesy to the young Queen, she hobbled out of the Throne Room.
"I shall maintain to my dying breath," declared Mrs. Stimpson vehemently, "that, after governing this Country as we have done, we have earned the right to stay in it. I consider we are not only ent.i.tled to that, but to a suitable establishment and pension. Your Majesty can surely spare us something out of all we have given up!"
Daphne intimated that she wished to reply to Mrs. Stimpson in private, whereupon the others withdrew out of hearing and left them together.
"I hate having to say it," she began in a low voice, "but you really can't stay here on any terms, Mrs. Stimpson--I think I needn't tell you why."
"Your Majesty surely doesn't suspect me of any----?"
"I don't suspect," said Daphne, "I _know_ how you tried to part me from Prince Mirliflor for ever--and how nearly you succeeded. _He_ knows, too.... Oh, you are in no danger from us--_we_ shall say nothing. But there is someone else who _might_."
"Not--not the Baron?" cried Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson, so thrown off her guard that she failed to see how completely the question gave her away.
"Yes," said Daphne gravely, "the Baron. You heard what the Court G.o.dmother said about seeing him as soon as he returns? We have forbidden him to speak--but it's quite possible that she will get the truth out of him--and that might be rather disagreeable for you, mightn't it?"
"Very," agreed the trembling Mrs. Stimpson. "She'd have no mercy on me--on any of us!"
"I'm afraid not," said Daphne, "and she might not listen even to me.
So--don't you think it would be wiser to change your mind about staying and go back to Gablehurst before she _does_ see him?"
"Much," said Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson in a half-choked voice--"much!
if--if it can be arranged."
"I think it can. The journey to Clairdelune and back won't tire the storks--they will be quite able to take you over to England as soon as you are ready to start."
"We'll go and get ready at once," said Mrs. Stimpson, "so as not to keep the car waiting."
"You have plenty of time. It can't be here for some hours yet."
"Oh, I hope the Baron will make haste--and--and if your Majesty _could_ only prevent him from seeing the Court G.o.dmother till after we are gone!"
"She will probably be asleep," said Daphne, "but in any case he shall have instructions to take you home the very moment he arrives at the Palace. I think," she added, "that is all we had to say to one another."
"Except," said Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson, "that your Majesty really must allow me to express my deep sense of the very handsome----"
"No, _please_!" said Daphne, turning away, for she felt that she had had as much of Mrs. Stimpson as she could stand just then.
That good lady, having partially recovered her equanimity, retreated to her husband and family.
"I've been talking it over with her Majesty, Sidney," she announced, "and she has _quite_ brought me to see that, under the circ.u.mstances, we shall really be more comfortable in dear old England. So she has kindly arranged for us to be taken home in the car directly it gets back from Clairdelune."
"Glad to hear it, my love," said the ex-Monarch. "Personally, I much prefer 'Inglegarth' to this sort of thing."
"But I say," Clarence put in, glancing down at his fantastic attire, "I don't quite see myself going back to Gablehurst in _this_ get up. Wish I knew what had become of the kit we came in!"
It was now the hour when the Court was accustomed to go up and change their costumes before dinner, and Daphne felt a difficulty as to the proper course to pursue with the Wibberley-Stimpsons. Could she without indelicacy invite them to sit as guests at what had lately been their own table? And yet it seemed hardly human to leave them out. She decided that the former course was on the whole less open to objection.
"I hope," she said to Mrs. Stimpson, with a touch of shyness, "that you will all give me the pleasure of dining with us this evening? You see, you must have something to eat before such a long journey."
"Your Majesty is most kind," said Mrs. Stimpson in a great flurry, "but, if you will excuse us from accepting what--no one knows better than I--is really a command, I--I really _don't_ think we should have time to sit through a long dinner. We--we might miss the car--and besides, there's the question of dressing. If we could have a few sandwiches and a little wine in one of the vestibules while we are waiting for the car, that will be all we shall require!"
"You shall do exactly as you please about it," replied Daphne. She was greatly relieved, as one reason for her hesitation in asking them had been the dread that Mr. Stimpson might think himself called upon to make an after-dinner speech.
Her ladies-in-waiting were already in her Tiring-Chamber, highly delighted by the prospect of arraying a Queen whom, even when she had been nominally one of themselves, they had always not merely admired but adored.
It had suddenly occurred to Daphne that the Stimpson family might find themselves on their return to Gablehurst in certain difficulties against which she felt bound to do what she could to protect them.
She thought over the best means of doing this, which took so much time to carry out that the business of arraying her for her first banquet as a Royal Hostess had to be got through more hurriedly than her ladies of the Bedchamber thought at all decorous.
But she knew that Mirliflor would be well content with her, however she looked--and as a matter of fact he not only was, but had every reason to be so.
The Wibberley-Stimpsons had already ascertained that the clothes they had worn on their arrival in Marchenland had been carefully laid up in one of the Royal wardrobes, from which they were brought at their earnest request. They put them on in frantic haste, and, in deadly fear of being surprised by the Royal Household, they stole down the great Staircase to an antechamber by the Entrance Hall. There they found a table set with every description of tempting food, to which all did justice but Mrs. Stimpson, the state of whose nerves had entirely taken away her appet.i.te. She was continually starting up and saying, "Listen!
I'm _sure_ I hear these storks!"
"You'd better eat something, Mater," Clarence said. "It's the last dinner we shall ever have in Marchenland."
"I can't," she replied, "I don't know how any of _you_ can.... There go the silver trumpets! She's going into the Banqueting Hall now. On Prince Mirliflor's arm, most likely! How she can have the _heart_ when she _must_ know we are still here!"
"She _did_ ask us to dinner, my love," Mr. Stimpson mildly reminded her.