Page 50 of A Torn Allegiance
“Sir Walter Scott,” the footman announced, “acclaimed author of literature and poetry.”
Everyone in the room clapped.
“Prince Hayes of Oldenburg and His Grace, the Duke of Sumter.”
Everyone in the room curtsied.
The men entered together, and now Elsie knew her evening would be as closely intertwined with Prince Hayes’s as it ever had been. She approached their guests on the heels of her mother, who had her hands outstretched as she said, “Oh, we are so pleased you could come. I see you are already acquainted.” She clasped her hands together, as happy as Elsie had ever seen her.
Prince Hayes shook his head. “I recognized him as we exited our carriages. Perhaps it isn’t done, but I could not forbear from introducing myself.”
“And I am pleased he did, for I’ve never met a more pleasant fellow.” Sir Walter laughed to himself. “Or one so well-versed in my writing.”
“And how could I not be with words such as yours? I was carried away withThe Lay of the Last Minstrel, but then your newest... I cannot now choose a favorite.”
“Your knowledge of my works is quite impressive. Am I right in thinking so?” Sir Walter Scott turned to Elsie, who nodded immediately.
“Certainly, but as His Highness said, it is not so surprising when you consider what beautiful material you pen.” Elsie offered her hand in greeting, which Sir Walter bowed over briefly. “I have been looking forward to this meeting for a very long time. Thank you for coming.”
“It is my great pleasure, now made even more so, for not only has Prince Hayes impressed me with his appreciation for poetry, but he has invited me to his court in Oldenburg.”
“Singular.” Elsie tried to act pleased, but really, she was annoyed, though she had no right to be. Sir Walter could visit any country he wished. Why should she be bothered that suddenly Prince Hayes and Sir Walter were the best of friends?
She placed a hand on Sir Walter’s proffered arm. “Shall we?”
Sophie and His Grace had joined the other guests, who filed ahead of Elsie, Sir Walter, and the prince into the adjoining room, where chairs were arranged in rows of semicircles all the way to the back of the room. She had expected every member to make an appearance for this particular meeting, and to invite friends, and she was correct to plan for so many. Perhaps word had spread of Sir Walter’s appearance.
When she and her mother entered the room with Sir Walter and Prince Hayes, every eye turned in their direction. All clusters of conversations and groups of excited friends paused in their communications to turn in their seats.
Elsie smiled. “I am more than excited to introduce again to you Sir Walter Scott!”
The room erupted in applause. He waved and bowed, then turned to his other side to repeat his actions.
“And this is Prince Hayes of Oldenburg.” She tried to make her voice sound as pleased as it had for Sir Walter. The prince’s snort and then small laugh told her she had failed, but the applause was just as exuberant for him, which again annoyed her.
Sir Walter then stood at the front of the room as the rest of them found seats—Prince Hayes sat on one side of Elsie, her mother on the other—and everyone quieted.
“This is incredibly fortuitous for me,” Prince Hayes whispered. “Thank you for the opportunity to meet Sir Walter and hear him speak.” His eyes were wide and sincere and full of gratitude, and for a moment, Elsie wished it had been she who invited the prince, just to feel she deserved some of that appreciation.
“We are all equally thrilled he would be here,” she said.
He leaned closer, his attention solely on Elsie now. “I can’t help but notice that we are at odds.”
Sir Walter took a sip from the lemonade they’d provided. She could tell he was about to begin in earnest.
“Might we discuss such things at a later time?”
“Of course.”
They faced the front.
But then Prince Hayes rested his arm along the back of her chair. His lips twitched, but that was all the expression Elsie might use to discern his motives.
Mother brought a hand to her mouth, hiding her smile, and Elsie felt that once again, she was surrounded by overly amused schoolchildren sharing a jest, partly at her expense.
She ignored them both and focused solely on their guest. Once the words of Sir Walter Scott filled the room, his poetry from his own mouth, the rest of the world faded easily into the background. One particular stanza touched her more than others.
“‘What groans shall yonder valleys fill!
