Lucy Gordon - Princess Dottie

“I'll bet this is murder to heat properly,” Dottie muttered.

“My mother always said the same thing,” Randolph agreed. “That's why you'll be glad of the four poster bed. The drapes keep out drafts. Now, allow me to present your maid, Bertha.”

A strongly built young woman with a cheerful face advanced and, to Dottie's horrified fascination, dropped a curtsy. Confused and distracted by this, Dottie obeyed the dictates of good manners and curtsied back. Bertha was aghast.

“I shouldn't have done that, should I?” Dottie muttered.

“Never mind,” Randolph whispered back.

“Can't you make her go away?”

“You have Her Royal Highness's permission to leave,” Randolph announced, and Bertha fled.

“Now do you believe that this will never work?”

Dottie said in despair when they were alone. “When do I see the British consul?” “You don't.”

“Ahh! I knew it. It's a con.”

“Your Royal Highness cannot deal with a mere consul,” Randolph explained. “The British ambassador will attend you.”

For some reason, that was the moment when she began to believe that this was really happening. The last of her disbelief vanished a few minutes later when the tall, elegant figure of Sir Ambrose Philips entered the room, and bowed to her. He was splendid in evening attire, glittering with ribbons and medals.

“My apologies for not being here earlier,” he murmured. “I was attending a dinner.”

“I'm sorry I dragged you away from it,” she said, suddenly horribly conscious of her shorts.

“On the contrary. I am honored to attend Your Royal Highness.” Sir Ambrose gave her a courtly bow.

“I'll leave you now,” Randolph said. “I'm sure you'd prefer to talk alone.”

As soon as the door had closed on him Dottie whirled on the ambassador. “What's going on here? Do you know?”

“Randolph has apprised me of the situation,” he admitted. “I need hardly say how glad Her Majesty's government was to discover that the heir to Elluria hails from the United Kingdom. The understanding between our two countries-”

“Speak English, will you?” she said frantically.

He abandoned his lofty mien. “Elluria is an important country, both in its position and its wealth. Some of the minerals to be found here are as valuable as oil. We have mining agreements that are vital to manufacturing in our country, but Harold of Korburg would tear them up and sell to the highest bidder. He has to be kept out and you're the person to do it.”

“Says who? There must be other heirs.”

“Perhaps there are, but nobody's found them yet. If you walk out, Harold will take over next day.”

“You say that, but I bet I'm not free to leave.”

“You are totally free. But if you leave, your country will suffer.”

“Which one?” Dottie asked urgently.

“Both of them.”

“And if I stay here, just for a while?”

“Then you would find the British government eager to reward you suitably.”

“Enough to buy a garage?”

“I'm sure there wouldn't be any problem about that.”

She drew a long breath, feeling herself on the brink of an abyss. If only there was someone to hold out a helping hand. But the only face that came into her mind was Randolph's, and she could no longer trust him.

“Oh well,” she said with a shaky laugh, “I used to think I'd like to be an actress. It can't be that much different.”

“May I ask if you've made a decision?” Randolph asked when he returned and found her alone.

“I'm nearly there. What have you done with Mike?”

“He's in his own apartments.”

“I want you to take me to him.”

“Wouldn't it be better if-”

“Now, please.”

“Is this the woman who couldn't give orders?” Randolph asked wryly.

She gave him back gaze for gaze. She understood now that this was a man of whom she must beware. He'd charmed her, but underneath he was pursuing his own agenda, and pursuing it all the more ruthlessly because it was driven by his duty.

“I'm just keeping my end up,” she said, defying him with her eyes. “And I need to, otherwise you lot will swamp me. Well, I won't let you swamp me. You thought I was an airhead who'd jump on command. Boy were you ever wrong! This is a tough cookie, and you may end up sorry you tangled with me.”

“Bravo, Dorothea!” he said at once. “With just such an attitude your ancestors led their people through times of crisis. And those who tangled with them ended up sorry.”

“Don't you smooth talk me. It doesn't work. Now let's go and find Mike-if you can remember where you've put him.”

“At Your Royal Highness's command.”

“I've warned you…”

Instead of leading her to the main door Randolph pressed a tiny knob in the carved panel on one wall, and a door clicked open.

“A secret passage,” Dottie breathed, forgetting royal dignity in childish delight.

“Not secret. There are a rabbit warren of these passages linking all the main rooms. It's quicker than going by the public corridors. And, of course, more discreet.”

It seemed to Dottie that he led her up hill and down dale before they reached one door that looked exactly like all the others, and Randolph opened it.

“You might have put him a bit closer to me,” Dottie observed. “But you weren't taking any chances, were you?”

“No,” Randolph said firmly, opening the door. “I wasn't.”

They found Mike confronting a splendid dinner, dressed in a silk robe that seemed to swallow him up. He beamed at the sight of Dottie.

“I was wondering where you were, love. This is grand. Mind you, this place is a bit big for me. I keep getting lost. But we've really fallen on our feet.”

“That's what they want you to think,” Dottie said urgently. “But it's all a huge con trick.” She looked at Randolph, regarding them, took Mike's arm and pulled him into a corner.

“It's not a joke after all. They really think I'm going to be their queen,” she said in a low voice.

“Get away!”

“That's what I said. But they mean it. Mike, what am I going to do?”

“Well, you don't have to do it if you don't want to, do you? Just tell them no. But not yet. Let's have that holiday we were promised. We're living in grand style.” grand. Mind you, this place is a bit big

“But if we stay too long I might be trapped here.”

“Nah, not you Dot! You always get people jumping to do what you say.”

“Keep your voice down,” she muttered, conscious of Randolph's sharp ears. “And it's not true.”

“Yes it is. What about that time-”

“Never mind that,” she said hastily. “All right. Just for a while.”

Randolph approached discreetly. “Why don't we leave Mike to get ready for his night out? Some army officers are eager to entertain him. Good night Mike. Have a pleasant evening.”

Dottie followed Randolph back to her apartment in silence. Once there she asked. “So what happens next?”

“Some refreshment. And a brief meeting with your chief ministers, at which you can receive their loyal greetings.”

“I can't really do that in shorts, can I?” she conceded with a sigh.

“Your Royal Highness is most gracious.”

“Oh no, not you too,” she protested. “There's got to be one person here who doesn't talk to me like I'm the fairy on top of the cake. It's Dottie.”

“Very well, for the moment-Dottie. Bertha will bring you some clothes, and Aunt Liz will help you with them. She's actually the Countess Gellitz, and I think you'll like her.”

The countess arrived a few minutes later. She was middle-aged, motherly and elegant, despite being plump. Dottie was soon calling her Aunt Liz, like everyone else.

The sense of unreality increased when she found herself wearing a simple, elegant white dress, plainly expensive and like nothing she'd ever worn before. Then Bertha got to work on her face and hair while Aunt Liz explained that in future this would be the prerogative of her personal beautician and her personal hairdresser. They must be appointed without delay to prepare her for future big occasions, but as today's meeting was urgent, Bertha would do a “rush job.”

To Dottie's awed eyes Bertha's rush job was the equal of the expensive London salons where she'd pressed her nose against the window and dreamed. The woman looking back at her from the mirror had huge, subtly made-up blue eyes, perfectly lined lips and a flawless, peachy complexion. Her eyebrows had mysteriously developed an aristocratic arch, while her short hair had been teased into sophisticated curves.

Obscurely, she could feel herself being transformed into another person, and she tried to cling on to her self, which was hard because she was slipping away. Besides which, the other person looked as if she might be fun to be, and temptation was undermining Dottie's resolve.

I will be strong-minded, she told herself. I will not be seduced by all this. Well-not for long, anyway.

She realized that a dispute was taking place over her head. Aunt Liz had selected gold jewelry, while Bertha preferred diamond-studded platinum. The argument raged while Dottie looked from one to the other like a tennis spectator, ignored by both. Randolph, who'd left the room while she dressed, returned in time to witness the moment.

“I prefer gold,” she ventured to say at last.

“You see?” Aunt Liz cried triumphantly. “Her Royal Highness has excellent taste.”

Bertha glowered. Dottie mouthed, “Next time” to her

“Well done, Dottie,” Randolph murmured. “You have the soul of a diplomat.”

At last she stood and regarded her coiffured, manicured, made-up and gilded self in the mirror. There was no doubt that the woman staring back at her looked good. But who was she?

“It's time to meet your ministers,” Randolph said.

He positioned her in the middle of her reception room. The double doors were thrown open and a troop of middle-aged men streamed in. Each of them threw her a sharp, curious look before bowing. Randolph introduced them, Jacob Durmand, the prime minister, Alfred Sternheim, chancellor, Felix Andras, minister for Foreign Affairs, Bernhard Enderlin, the minister of the Interior. There were several others, but she lost count.