“I must prepare our repertoire.” He bestowed a knowing smile upon her, winking as he did so. “I know to whom I owe this honor, of course.”
“But Monsieur Beaumaris, I am as stunned as you are.” Nicolette shook her head.
“Never mind, never mind.” Beaumaris turned to his assistant, yelling at the top of his lungs. “Find Caruso! I must persuade him to stay! To go! Oh, just find him!”
46
Palacio Real
“There in Madrid
I saw her
This enchanting young maiden”
- The Barber of Seville by Gioachino Rossini
“It's positively breathtaking!” As Nicolette entered the magnificent Palacio Real on Caruso’s arm, she reveled in a sense of amazement at her circumstances. Her head began to swim as the full impact of the priceless art, the magnificent architecture, her unanswered questions, and her anticipation at seeing Alejandro mounted.
“It is incomparable, is it not?” stated Lady Elaina, on Caruso’s other arm, who would have eaten nails rather than miss the opportunity to accompany her granddaughter to Spain for the king's coronation.
“Everything is irreplaceable,” noted Caruso. “Take care where you step, Signorina Nicolette, I have observed your clumsiness in the past.”
“Thank you for your vote of confidence, Enrico! As if I am not nervous enough.” But she found that she was grateful for the diversion, as she turned to face Caruso with indignation. It never failed; he always eased the tension. His unmistakable boyish charm—not to mention his tendency to mischief—was just plain fun company.
“Why should you be nervous when you are with me? Everyone’s eyes will be on me, Signorina, not on you.”
She burst out laughing and immediately caught herself as the echo of her voice seems to ricochet through the vast hallway.
Caruso smiled at her with satisfaction.
“You are a scoundrel, Enrico!”
“I only play one in the theatre.”
Nicolette’s head felt like a twirling top as she took everything in. “The art collections alone are worth the visit.”
Lady Elaina appeared dazed herself. “Thus far I have already seen Velázques, Gasparini, Caravaggio, and Goya.” She glanced at the hallway before her. “And it seems to go on forever.”
“It does go on forever,” remarked Nicolette with finality. I cannot wait for it to end and I fear when it does. “There are over two thousand rooms in the palace.”
“I was told the Palacio Real is the largest palace in western Europe, but I fear it might be larger,” Caruso said.
“The largest in the universe?” Nicolette giggled.
“Despite having seen much of the world, I am impressed,” Lady Elaina said.
Caruso shook his head disdainfully. “Having been to Italy, it is difficult to impress me.”
“But that was before you saw the famous collections of tapestries in the Palacio Real,” Nicolette interjected with a raised eyebrow.
Caruso feigned a yawn. “Naturally tapestries are a particular interest of mine.”
“It has taken us no small amount of time to traverse the Hall of Mirrors and the Hall of Tapestries,” Lady Elaina said. “I must admit to being awestruck. Every room is more magnificent than the last.”
I will see him again soon. Nicolette nodded as her breath caught in her chest. The supporting members of the cast had already been situated, and the principals were being led to the royal throne room.
Her heart quickened despite a lifetime of experience managing nervousness. She had not felt this nervous when she had faced the terrifying Red Sultan—the Great Assassin—at eleven years old!
“Ah, the Royal Armory.” Suddenly Caruso's attention was diverted, and he seemed to be of two minds. Releasing them, he bowed to Nicolette and Lady Elaina. “Its weapons date back to the thirteenth century. Do excuse me for a moment, Signorina.” In an instant tuxedo tails had flown into the Royal Armory, disappearing from view.
“Only be a moment, Enrico, I beg you. We are expected in the royal throne room,” Nicolette advised, surprised that she could find her voice as her proximity to Alejandro increased.
Lady Elaina shook her head. “He’s such a scalawag.”
“I fear it shall only get worse as the week progresses,” Nicolette considered. Enrico Caruso was a jokester, and there would be ample opportunity in the palace for his creativity.
“Are you looking forward to seeing the king, Nicolette?” Lady Elaina whispered, resplendent in a gown of pink liberty satin and white taffeta glace, a dashing sight against her auburn hair, particularly with a large pink hat tilted on her head.
She turned abruptly to face her grandmother. “You mean Alejandro.”
“I mean the king. Alejandro was the king of Spain from the moment his father died.” Lady Elaina's pink lips formed a smile. “The coronation ceremonies are a formality only.”
“Indeed. The king.” Nicolette felt her legs growing weak, tightening her grip on her grandmother's hand. “I hate to admit it, Grandmamma, but something has been missing from my life ever since he left.” Despite having known Alejandro for a short time, he had changed everything in her world. She felt she was, somehow, not whole without him.
“You who are so independent.” Lady Elaina's eyebrows raised starkly.
“Something in him reaches out to something in me, that is all.”
“Oh, is that all, my dear? An every day occurrence for the king of Spain, I should think.” Lady Elaina stopped to glance into the Gasparini Room, intricate designs of inlaid wood swirling across the floor. Stylized vines in silver and gold silk embroidery climbed the walls. Nicolette thought she might like to join the vines.
“One thing is certain,” Nicolette whispered under her breath.
“Oh, and what is that my dear?”
“I am pleased Alejandro has finally found useful employment.”
The two stared at each other for an instant before bursting into laughter, simultaneously covering their mouths as they approached the royal throne room.
“This is not a new position for Alejandro, my dear.” Lady Elaina lifted the white lace overlay hanging from her wide pink hat and dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. “He has been preparing for this role all his life.”
“Preparing, yes. But he faces enormous challenges.”
“Very true,” nodded Lady Elaina. “Spain never industrialized as did England, Germany, and Italy, and the literacy rate is low. In politics, there is no middle ground, no consensus: Spaniards are a passionate people who never do anything half-way.”
“An apt description of Alejandro,” murmured Nicolette.
“It is Spain's curse and Her blessing.”
“Somehow, I never envisioned Alejandro in a setting such as this.” Nicolette looked about her, stunned by the opulence of her surroundings. “The ruler of all of this. It doesn't seem like him somehow.”
“The royal chapel was awe-inspiring was it not, my dear?”
“The acoustics were lovely. I look forward to singing in that venue.” Nicolette nodded distractedly as she pretended to study another painting. There was no shortage of priceless treasures to pretend to look at while attempting to bolster one’s resolve.
Oh where is Enrico? She could use another arm at this time.
As she heard the familiar footsteps, she felt more anxiety than relief.
It is time. She smoothed the plaited skirt of her aqua voile gown trimmed with gold cord buttonholes and gold buttons. Shaking her hands, she loosened an abundance of white lace frills which flowed from the lapped Eton and bell sleeves just beyond the elbow. She checked her aqua box hat perched on layers of shiny black curls, a white feather protruding forward in just the right spot.
She hoped.
“You look marvelous, my dear.” Lady Elaina squeezed her hand. “And it doesn't matter. He only wants to see you.”
“Oh, I don't think this has anything to do with me…” She bit her lip.
/> “Don’t you?”
Caruso rejoined them and they entered the royal throne room together.
47
A Life of Sterile Pleasure
“Oh, Joy…
I never knew…
To love and to be loved!
Can I disdain this
For a life of sterile pleasure?”
- La traviata by Giuseppe Verdi
“Oh, my,” Nicolette whispered as the full impact of the throne room hit her. Her eyes searched for Alejandro, but he wasn't there. Only the Queen Mother, Léonie Helene de Bonifácio, sat on one of the two thrones at the front of the huge receiving room. The throne reserved for the king was empty.
“The Queen is very beautiful,” Lady Elaina noted.
“Hmmm.” Nicolette studied the Queen Mother with interest. The matriarch did not smile. She wore a deep purple silk evening gown with a square collar and matching jacket, a blue satin sash across her torso which joined at her hip in a rosette. A diamond and platinum tiara was perched on her white-blonde hair. For jewelry she wore pearl earrings, a pearl necklace and a pendant of some sort.
She was tall and slim with a patrician nose. Very Austrian in appearance.
Nicolette knitted her eyebrows. It struck her as odd that the Queen Mother of Spain should look so non-Spanish. She had heard the rumors of Alejandro's father’s Spanish paternity through the Captain of the Guards, supported by Alejandro’s appearance. If true, he was nonetheless related to all of European royalty through his mother. Two royal parents were not needed to establish lineage, they were all cousins anyway.
She sighed heavily, anxious for Alejandro's entrance at the same time it filled her with apprehension.
Once she ascertained he was not present, she let her eyes take in the room, opulent in every way. The walls were lined in embroidered red velvet. The predominantly blue and red carpets were exquisite, as was yet another painting covering the vast expanse of the domed ceiling from which hung sparkling crystal chandeliers. Gold was everywhere, serving as a mold for paintings, mirrors and furniture. Four bronze lions framed the two thrones.
The lions were seated in their respective places, lining the entrance to the thrones. Her knees made more wobbly by this luxurious extravagance, she wasn't sure how she managed to get to her seat.
And then he entered. Alejandro.
All stood. The men bowed and the ladies curtseyed.
Alejandro. She caught her breath when she saw him, entering through the monstrous doors.
Nicolette knew instantly she was not alone in her reaction: she could almost hear the collective gasp among the ladies in the room.
Alejandro wore his brown hair long and wavy as usual, his deep brown eyes intense as he surveyed the room He wore his ceremonial dress, a naval uniform with gold braids at the shoulders and sleeves, a light blue sash across his muscular torso and a red sash around his trim waist. His medals were pinned to the left of the blue sash, and the Order of the Golden Fleece was around his neck. A pendant of some type hung from the point where his collar connected, probably the Order of the Immaculate Conception of Vila Viçosa, the King of Spain being a Distinguished Knight of this order.
She knew the minute he found her.
Thankfully she did not lose her balance and fall, glancing sideways while in her curtsey.
As he passed by her, Nicolette could not help herself. Still curtseying, she looked up through her eyelashes to see him staring at her. His expression was stoic, but his eyes captured hers and lingered there, holding her as fiercely as if his arms had been around her.
In the moment their eyes met, she felt herself gasping for air. All this from a glance.
It was as if both their spirits suddenly soared enough to fill the heavens—while maintaining this façade of extreme formality.
She watched him, so comfortable in his role, so at home in all this opulence.
Once Alejandro was seated on the throne, they were led separately to be presented to the king and the queen mother.
Monsieur Beaumaris proceeded first. When it was Nicolette's turn, she felt her hands shaking. She reminded herself that it was Alejandro whom she had once kicked under the table. Had attempted to seduce.
Somehow she made it to the twin thrones. Gazing into the intensity of his eyes, somehow she managed to execute her curtsey.
King Alejandro surprised all present by standing and taking her hand to kiss it. The murmurs and gasps were subdued, but unmistakable.
“Lady Nicolette,” he stated, his voice so resonant it made her skin tingle. “I have never been happier to see anyone.” His eyes were full of feeling, and the fervency she saw there took her aback.
“Your highness, the honor is all mine,” she murmured. Oh, I am a fool! He had singled her out with a personal gesture and she was responding as if he were a statue.
Why am I treating him as if I do not know him? She saw the displeasure in Alejandro’s eyes instantly.
“May I introduce my mother?” Suddenly he turned to the Queen Mother. “Queen Léonie Helene. Mother, this is Lady Nicolette, daughter of the fifth Earl of Ravensdale.”
“I’m delighted, your highness.” Nicolette curtseyed again, still unable to think of a suitable response.
But the Queen Mother was not so tongue-tied. She nodded, barely smiling, her movement so slight her tiara appeared immobile. “We look forward to hearing you sing, Lady Nicolette,” she enunciated distinctly in a pinched voice. Her words were polite, but there was no doubt in Nicolette's mind the queen's intent was to clarify her place, adding, “There are many events planned for the coronation week's festivities.”
“Thank you, your majesty,” Nicolette replied warmly, feeling the fire return to her soul.
Léonie Helene appeared intelligent but disapproving. The queen’s words had the opposite effect as intended: the royal’s disdain fanned Nicolette’s courage.
I will not give anyone the pleasure of intimidating me. Nicolette wondered if the queen was as out of touch with the changing times as her husband had been. As a result of King Don Bartolomé’s reign, there were many in Spain who disapproved of the monarchy. There was much unrest in Spain, and stabilizing the country required an innovative and flexible ruler.
Observing them together, it was difficult to believe Léonie Helene was Alejandro’s mother. There appeared to be little or no bond between them. The Queen Mother was clearly protective, but Nicolette supposed she was protective of the throne rather than of Alejandro.
Nicolette suspected the Queen Mother thought her a conniving fortune-seeker. Nothing could be further from the truth.
“I have taken the liberty of having you seated next to me at dinner, Lady Nicolette,” Alejandro added. “I hope this does not displease you.”
“To the contrary, your majesty.”
A sudden surge of pleasure flowed through her veins. There was a time when all Alejandro wanted from her was to hear her sing. The new arrangement was most unexpected, but, despite feeling flustered, Nicolette was relieved she found words and was up to the task of behaving with decorum. At last it appeared she had not been performing every night on the stage for two years without results.
Of course, it didn’t hurt her confidence to observe Léonie Helene’s expression of disapproval. Nicolette did not allow anyone to place themselves above her. “I am most pleased. But I had understood I would be singing?”
“I have arranged for Caruso to sing this evening,” Alejandro replied brusquely. “If you have no objections, Lady Nicolette.”
“No, of course not, your majesty.” She was surprisingly disinterested in being the performer on this first evening together. And surprisingly unannoyed with Alejandro for taking matters into his own hands without consulting her.
I am pleased Enrico should have the honor. Nicolette found she longed for some private time with Alejandro. All of this required formality was definitely not ideal.
“I trust you would be truthful with me, Lady Nicolette?”
&
nbsp; “Always,” she replied softly. She saw a smile forming at the corners of his mouth, as if to say, I am the same person.
It was astonishing: he knew the moment she met him as the person he was and not as king.
As if to test her resolve, there were some murmurs in the audience, probably remarking on the length of time the king had afforded to her as distinct from the others. But she allowed herself to linger in his gaze a bit longer.
And then Nicolette realized her error. No one, and certainly not Queen Léonie, believed she was a serious contender for the king’s affections: they thought she was the king’s paramour.
It infuriated her. There was nothing she could do to stop the gossip.
“And may I beg the honor of the first two dances at the ball which will follow, Lady Nicolette?"
Of all things, Nicolette hated an undeserved reputation.
And then she came to a decision. Let them think what they will. I will not let them steal my joy.
“I would be…” She stared at Alejandro for a long moment. She wondered if she might stutter under the depth of his gaze, but the words managed to come. “…delighted, your majesty.”
Alejandro smiled with relief.
As if I would refuse the king of Spain!
An impossibility, to be sure. Even she was not in possession of that degree of effrontery.
At least she did not wish to refuse. Nicolette mustered all of her dignity, found her footing, curtseyed again, and returned to her seat, somewhat stunned by Alejandro’s attentions.
What does he mean by singling me out? He knows we cannot marry. Suddenly a scandalous thought occurred to her.
Is he offering me carte-blanche?
Don’t be ridiculous! He has never expressed an interest in bedding me. When he might have done so, he was a gentleman. For all I know, he is not attracted to me at all. It was wishful thinking and the height of conceit to imagine that he was.
And would I accept it if offered? A carte-blanche?
The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren Page 34
