The Rising Storm

with the Court tomorrow evening.'

'As you will, sir.' Mr. Merry bowed. 'But unlike the sandy tracks over which you have been struggling in your journey across Estramadura and Castile, the road between the capital and the King's country home is a fine one; so if we leave at eight we should be there early in the afternoon.'

Although it was only April, when Roger arrived in Madrid he had found it sizzling with a heat that is rarely experienced in England except during the height of summer, yet on the following morning it was near freezing. As he stood shivering in his cloak, Mr. Merry told him that these extremes of temperature occurred daily and were due to Madrid being over 2,000 feet above sea level; then as they drove through the city he pointed out such few buildings as were of interest. Roger knew that it was far from old, as capitals go, and he found little to admire in it, apart from one broad modern boulevard called the Prado—which had been constructed by the Conde d'Aranda—and the situation of the city, with the snow-capped peaks of the Sierra de Guadarrama outlined against a blue sky in the distance to the northward.

Aranjuez had been selected as the site of a royal residence from its very pleasant surroundings, as it lies in the middle of a fertile plain where the river Jarama joins the upper Tagus, and the country round about forms the principle market-garden for Madrid. The little town was the most modern in Spain, as it had been built to a definite plan only forty years earlier, and the Palace was a large late-Renaissance building erected twenty-five years before the town.

As they arrived before three o'clock they found the whole place deserted, for the midday siesta was not yet over; but by the time the servants they had brought with them had opened up the villa, the same types of cloaked, sombrero-hatted men, and gaily shawled, mantillaed women as Roger had seen in Madrid, began to appear in the streets.

All through his long journey across Portugal and Spain he had been harassed by a double anxiety about Isabella. She had been due to have her baby in the latter part of March, and it was now April 10th. Yet he still did not know if all had gone well with her, and she had come safely through the ordeal. Then, if she had, there was still the awful thought that during the past fortnight her husband might have poisoned her. In consequence, now that he was at last within an ace of obtaining news that would either still or confirm his fears, he could hardly contain his impatience to get to the Palace.

Mr. Merry had declared that five o'clock was the earliest hour at which a noble Spaniard could possibly be expected to do business, so at a few minutes to the hour their carriage carried them down a fine avenue and through the formal gardens with which the Palace was surrounded to the wing of it which was occupied by the Prime Minister.

In due course they were received by one of the gentlemen who assisted Count Florida Blanca in the transaction of foreign business: the Caballero Heredia. It transpired that the Caballero had served for some time in the Spanish Embassy in Paris, so he spoke fluent French. He made Roger gravely welcome, examined his credentials and assured him blandly that the Prime Minister would be most happy to grant him an audience at an early date. He added that he hoped that in the meantime Roger would avail himself of the amenities of the Palace, and that the next day being Sunday there was a Court, at which no doubt he could arrange to be presented.

Having thanked him, Roger said: 'It is my misfortune, Senor Caballero, to have few Spanish friends, but while in Naples I made the acquaintance of a charming couple, the Conde and Condesa Sidonia y Ulloa; and they are, I think, now in Spain. I wonder if you can tell me anything of them?'

'Why, yes,' replied the Caballero, with a smile. 'I knew the Condesa when she lived at the Court of France, before her marriage; and I am happy to be able to give you good news of her. She presented her husband with an heir some three weeks back, and they arrived here to pay their court to Their Majesties only two days ago. No doubt you will see your friends tomorrow night.'

Enormously relieved, Roger said how pleased he would be to see them again; then, after some further polite conversation with the Caballero Heredia, the two Englishmen withdrew.

Relieved as Roger was he found the next twenty-four hours drag interminably. For a while he occupied himself with an evening walk round Aranjuez with Mr. Merry, but there was nothing to see there except the people. There were few women in the streets; they sat in the deep embrasures of open ground-floor windows which were raised some feet above the street level. Every window was heavily barred; in the better houses with an elaborate iron scrollwork that bellied outward in a graceful curve. The men lounged in the street outside. The smarter of them were most colourfully clad, with bright sashes round their waists and scarves round their necks, tight trousers, short jackets and little black hats with pom-poms, beneath which their dark hair was caught up in a net. Many of them carried guitars, and strummed upon them as they softly serenaded their favourite senoritas.

As the season of the Sunday bull-fights did not begin till May, Roger whiled away most of the day as best he could, thinking over what he would say to Count Florida Blanca when he obtained an audience. The mission he had been given was, he felt, his great chance; but it was no easy one, for if the Spaniards attempted to procrastinate, as they almost certainly would, he had strict instructions to stand no nonsense from them. So peace or war hung by a thread, and his triumph would be all the greater if he could maintain the high tone required by Mr. Pitt and yet prevent war breaking out.

At last it was time to go to the Palace; and at six o'clock he was ushered with Mr. Merry into a vast reception-room on its first floor. There were already some hundred ladies and gentlemen present and Roger knew that the same formality would be gone through as he had witnessed at Versailles. When the whole Court was assembled the approach of Their Majesties would be announced, the company would form into a human lane, and the Sovereigns would slowly pass down it. In this case, however, Mr. Merry having been to see the Grand Chamberlain earlier in the day, that functionary would attract the Monarchs' attention to them, and he would be given the opportunity to present his new colleague.

But Roger had no thought for his coming presentation; he was swiftly scanning the crowd for Isabella. After a moment he caught sight of Don Diego, and then of Isabella beside him. With a murmured apology to Mr. Merry, he quickly made his way towards the couple.

At sight of him Isabella's tanned face paled, but she covered her confusion by dropping him a low curtsy in response to his bow. Don Diego also recognized him at once and greeted him very civilly. Roger said that he had heard of their happy event and was delighted to congratulate them upon it; then they began to talk of their mutual friends in Naples.

After a few moments another gentleman claimed Don Diego's attention, so Roger was able to move a little apart with Isabella. 'My love,' she breathed. 'My love, I can hardly believe it true that it is really you I see.'

'Or I, that I am with you again, my own,' he whispered, as he took in all the detail of the thin, fine, dark- browed face that had caused him such an agony of love those last days in Naples.

They were standing opposite the main doorway and some distance from it. People were still arriving and at that moment a couple entered. The man was in his sixties, of medium height, and with a thinnish, clever face. The woman was in her early twenties. She had dark hair, black eyes, a faultless complexion, a determined chin and a full, red mouth. Her figure was well rounded for her height and in perfect proportion; her beauty was so dazzling that she eclipsed every other woman in the room.

Isabella touched Roger on the arm, and her whisper came almost in a hiss. 'Look! That is the English woman to marry whom my husband plans to poison me!'

Roger's only reply was a gasp. The superbly beautiful creature, round whom a court of bowing men had instantly gathered, was the woman he counted dearer than any other in the world—Georgina Etheredge.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

INTRIGUE AT ARANJUEZ

ISABELLA half-turned to whisper again behind her fan to Roger; but, seeing the expression of astonishment on his face as he stared at Georgina, she exclaimed: 'Why do you look so surprised? Is it that you know her?'

'Why, yes,' Roger answered in a low voice. 'She is my dearest— my oldest friend.'

'Madonna mia!' Isabella passed the tip of her tongue over her suddenly dry hps. 'Roje! You cannot mean that you, too, have been ensnared by her? Yet from the way you speak . . .'

'No, no! I mean only that we have known one another since childhood. I—I regard her as a sister.'

Isabella's dark brows drew together. 'A sister! Only as a sister? Do you swear to me she has never been more to you than that?'