Wanda gripped her fingers tightly together.
“Everything had gone wrong. You were angry with me, incensed or irritated, I do not know what it was. I could hear it in your voice. I did not understand the way you spoke to me.”
“Yes, yes I know,” he said. “I tried to hate you, but I failed.”
“To – hate me?” she faltered. “But – why?”
“I cannot explain now. I must go, we cannot stay here.”
“You must go back to your guests – I understand.”
“Do you? Wanda. Wanda, there is so much I should like to tell you and so much I dare not.”
She heard the desperation in his voice and did not understand it.
Then she felt his arms go around her.
He held her very close and for a moment he did not kiss her. Instead he laid his cheek against hers and, even while her whole body melted with a joy beyond words because she was in his arms again, she knew that he was suffering.
“What is wrong? Please tell me!” she asked.
“I cannot,” he answered. “Don’t talk. If you only knew what it was like to hold you like this. I have thought about it so much. I do not understand what has happened to me. I only know that I cannot get you out of my mind. Wanda! Wanda! My little love!”
He held her tighter still and now at last his mouth was seeking hers, blindly and with a kind of misery behind his kisses, which made them all the more poignant.
For the first time she kissed him back and knew as she did so the rapture of giving rather than receiving.
At the same moment she felt the first rising of desire within herself like a small flame flickering within her body.
His arms tightened around her and now his kisses grew more passionate, more possessive.
“Wanda, Wanda!” he was saying her name wildly, their passion igniting both of them as if with fire.
And then they heard voices outside, the sound of feet and the music changed to that of a mazurka.
“I must go,” Richard said.
He knew that the entertainment was over. It was madness for him to stay here any longer.
He kissed Wanda again, quickly and passionately on the mouth.
“Go back to the ballroom,” he ordered. “I will leave the way I came in.”
“And I shall see you – again?”
“Soon,” he answered, “very soon, I promise you.”
She clung to him for a moment and then obediently she raised the curtain and stepped out into the brilliantly lit ballroom.
Richard stood for a moment in the darkness.
Then, as he turned towards the back of the alcove, a voice said,
“Very touching. Let us hope the Czar is not in the ballroom when she returns or he will be suspicious.”
“Katharina!” Richard ejaculated.
“Yes, Katharina,” she mocked him.
“How long have you been here?”
“Quite a long time, mon cher. I saw you hurry away when the Czar went to supper and so I followed you.”
“I hope you were duly edified.”
“I was entranced. You always told me that you disliked intrigue.”
“So do I, especially when it is forced upon me.”
“Well, at least we know that your masquerade is not entirely a disinterested one!”
“That, if you will permit me to say so, is entirely my business.”
“Indeed?” He knew that she was smiling even though he could not see her face. “I thought it was my business, too.”
“Listen to me, Katharina,” Richard said impatiently, “this is all very unfortunate and I am sure unpleasant, but at the same time it is not my fault that the Czar wanted to make a fool of himself and asked me to help him.”
“She is very pretty, this new spy of Metternich’s,” Katharina said, “but is it you she loves or the Czar from whom she is trying to extract information?”
“We will not discuss her, please.”
“La! how formal we are!”
Katharina had come nearer to him as she spoke and now he knew that she was only a few feet away from him. He could smell the fragrance of the perfume she always used, the scent of roses that was so essentially a part of her.
“Richard, are you still angry with me?” she asked softly. “It is not my fault that she is Metternich’s spy. It’s true I discovered it, but would you really prefer to remain in ignorance? Besides, why should you be angry with me when all I have ever done is to love you?”
She made the very word vibrate and now she was closer still and he could feel her body close against his.
“I am sorry, Katharina,” he said quickly, “but you know what I feel about the intrigue that goes on at the Court. It infuriates me and I wish to have nothing to do with it.”
“And yet you don’t seem very angry with her, with the woman who is prepared to kiss you because she believes you to be the Czar. Why not kiss someone who loves you because you are you?”
Her arms went round his neck as she spoke. They were soft and warm and yet he felt as if they were bands of steel imprisoning him.
“Katharina, we must go in for supper,” he said quickly. “The Czar will miss us.”
“Does it matter?”
He felt her lips seeking his and then, as he turned his head, he felt her bite the lobe of his ear, an action that was peculiarly a part of her passion and her desire.
“My Richard!” she whispered. “Have you forgotten what we mean to each other?”
Her body seemed to entwine itself about his and he waited for the surging wave of desire that she had never failed to arouse in him.
Then, almost to his own astonishment, he found himself cool and detached and quite unmoved by the quivering passion that vibrated from her. He knew then that he was free, free of Katharina and the power she wielded by the exotic beauty of her face and body.
“I want you, Richard.”
It might have been the voice of a complete stranger calling to him.
Very gently he unclasped her arms from round his neck.
“We must go, Katharina,” he said. “You know as well as I do that there will be trouble if we do not have supper with the Czar.”
For a moment he thought that she would defy him. He heard her draw in her breath quickly and knew, although he could not see her, that her eyes would be dark with passion.
Without a word she turned and walked away from the alcove. He saw the curtain swing back and heard her footsteps going away down the passage.
He felt a momentary relief, but knew that this was not the end of what had been a curiously unpleasant incident.
Katharina would never forgive him, he could be sure of that.
*
As it happened, the Czar had not noticed the absence of either Katharina or Richard from the big supper table set for the Royal party in the Banqueting Hall.
He was concerned at the moment only with himself and his partner, for against all precedent and setting aside the arrangements that had been made early in the evening, the Czar had taken the Comtesse Julia Zichy down to supper.
She was looking exquisite tonight in a dress of pale mauve gauze ornamented with velvet ribbons. There was a tiara of diamonds in her hair and a wide necklace of the same stones round her neck.
“You look like a Queen,” the Czar told her, “and indeed you are the Queen of my ball and of my heart.
She smiled at the fulsome flattery.
“I have christened you ‘La Beauté Céleste,’ the Czar continued. “Did you know that?”
“What you say one day, Sire, is repeated all over Vienna the next,” Julia answered.
“Then I shall publicly proclaim you the Queen of my ball tonight and tomorrow all Vienna will know the reason.”
He bent his handsome head towards hers, but she turned her eyes away.
“I would not like you to embarrass me, Sire,” she said quietly.
“Does it embarrass you to know that I admire you more than any woman I
have ever seen?”
“It is very kind of Your Majesty to say so,” Julia answered, “but I would rather that no one else should hear you for fear that they suspect favouritism.”
“What does that matter when you are in fact someone I should like to favour, someone I would ask a favour from?”
Julia looked at him quickly and looked away again.
It seemed to her that there could be no mistaking what he was trying to convey and yet she thought that she must be imagining it.
“These are delicious, Sire,” she said, referring to the dish of sterlets in front of her. “I hear they came from the Volga.”
“All the treasures of Russia shall be yours if you will only be kind to me,” the Czar answered.
“Kind?” Julia questioned, raising her eyebrows above her cool grey eyes.
“Must I put it more plainly?” the Czar asked. “I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you. I have thought of you ever since as ‘La Beauté Céleste’. The words are already written on my heart.”
Julia smiled and shook her head.
“No, no, Sire. You are mistaken,” she said. “Many other names may be written there, but not mine. Besides, I will tell you a secret. I am in love with someone else.”
She felt him stiffen beside her.
And she was speaking deliberately, making sure that this interest of the Czar should go no further.
She was well aware of how embarrassing the attentions from one of the Potentates could be and she was determined that the whole thing must be crushed at its very inception.
“In love with someone else?”
The Czar repeated the words in a stunned manner, as if he could hardly believe they had been said, let alone credit them to be the truth.
“Yes, in love,” Julia repeated, and now her face was suddenly radiant with a light that seemed to come from within.
“Love to me, Sire, is a very serious, very wonderful emotion. It is indeed my whole life.”
“And who is this lucky person?” the Czar asked.
“That I cannot tell Your Majesty for reasons that you will appreciate.”
“I cannot believe it.”
Now there was a note of exasperation in the Czar’s voice.
“But it is true,” Julia answered, “and I know that with Your Majesty’s proverbial generosity you would not wish me anything but happiness.”
She saw by the exasperation on his face that she had gone as far as she dared.
She had not yet finished supper, but she rose from her chair.
“Will Your Majesty excuse me? I have promised the next waltz to the King of Prussia.”
She swept down to the floor in a deep curtsey and then hurried away as the Czar sat drumming with his fingertips on the supper table.
The Empress of Austria, who was sitting on his right, turned to speak to him, but without any apology, he rose abruptly and strode away.
As he went from the room, he beckoned to Prince Volkonski and strode ahead of him. He found a small anteroom that was not occupied.
As the door closed behind him, the Czar turned to the Prince. His face was contorted with anger, his ears reddened as he shouted,
“Who is she in love with? Why wasn’t I told? What the devil do I pay you for, I’d like to know, except to learn what is happening and what is going on? Are you so blind, so deaf or incompetent that you cannot keep me informed even about the people who most concern me?”
“You are speaking of the Comtesse Julia Zichy, I assume, Sire?” the Prince enquired.
“You fool, you nitwit, who else do you imagine it could be?” the Czar fumed.
He was in one of his hysterical rages that Prince Volkonski knew only too well and which, unlike most people at Court, left him unperturbed.
“I am sorry, Sire, but you had not confided to me that you were interested in this particular lady. Had you done so, any information you may require would be at your disposal.”
“Tell me, then, who does she imagine she is in love with? Who has succeeded in her affections where I have failed? Tell me, tell me at once, if you can do so.”
“I assure Your Majesty that question is quite easy to answer,” Prince Volkonski replied. “Although the Comtesse’s affection is a quite recently developed emotion for the gentleman in question, it is undoubtedly, from all reports, a grand passion and not to be compared with any of the frivolous affaires de coeur that are taking place in Vienna at the moment.”
“Stop your cackling and tell me whom she loves.”
The Prince hesitated for a moment.
He knew that he was dealing the Czar a body blow, but there was nothing he could do about it.
“The Comtesse is in love with Prince Metternich,” he said quietly.
The Czar’s whole countenance was now suffused with crimson.
“You lie, you dog!”
“It is the truth, Sire.”
“Metternich! Always Metternich. He thwarts me at every turn and none of you do anything about it. Do you hear me? None of you do anything about it.”
“I am afraid there is nothing we can do, Sire.”
“Metternich! In love with Metternich!”
The Czar picked up an exquisite piece of Sèvres china and threw it violently into the fireplace where it smashed into a thousand pieces.
“God damn his soul!” he spluttered. “He takes everything from me. Even the woman I wanted for myself!”
Chapter 10
Katharina entered the Czar’s bedroom and stood for a moment by the door.
He was well aware that she was there, but he ignored her presence, continuing to read his Bible as if every word needed his closest concentration.
Katharina let a small smile curve the corner of her lips as she watched him. She was wearing a flowing negligée of shell-pink taffeta trimmed with lace, which rustled as she moved slowly across the room.
The candlelight shone on her fair hair and gave her heavy-lidded eyes a mysterious beauty that would have attracted the attention of the Czar at any time other than now.
He was in one of his most difficult and obstinate moods.
Prince Volkonski had reported his condition to Katharina and suggested that she should try to inveigle him into a better frame of mind.
“The Czar is already losing some of his popularity,” he told her. “When he came to Vienna, everyone was ready to acclaim him for his stand against Napoleon and because they genuinely believed in his goodness of heart and his desire for peace. But he has antagonised too many people lately by his unpredictable behaviour.”
“Yes, he can be very difficult,” Katharina sighed.
“Difficult?” the Prince said. “I am closer to him than anyone else and he trusts me, as he knows I serve him to the best of my ability.”
“You are, of course, indispensable,” Katharina interposed flatteringly.
“Is anyone that?” the Prince asked. “It is, however, true that the Czar would not know where to obtain truthful information if I was not here. But there are times when even I feel I cannot stand anymore.”
“And yet he can be so charming,” Katharina said.
“And so devilish,” the Prince added.
Katharina laughed at the vehemence of his tone.
“I will do what I can,” she promised.
The tense lines round the Prince’s mouth seemed to relax a little.
“He is fond of you,” he ventured, “genuinely fond.”
Katharina shrugged her shoulders.
“For the moment! Tomorrow I may be sent to Siberia. Eh bien! I will do what I can. Is it Metternich again?”
“Yes, Metternich again, not only because of Poland, but also because of the Comtesse Julia Zichy.”
“I suspected that,” Katharina remarked, “when I saw her leave the supper table last night.”
“And as if that was not enough,” the Prince went on, “the Czar learned this morning that Marie Narischkin is infatuated with a young Cavalry Officer.”
“Not me,” the Prince answered. “I take good care to tell him only the things I want him to know, but he has other sources of information, as you and I are well aware.”
“Marie Narischkin is always the same,” Katharina exclaimed. “Promiscuous and without shame! A new lover is no surprise. Yet at this moment such upsets can be catastrophic. He loves her.”
“I doubt it. He has grown used to her, as a child grows used to an old and battered doll,” the Prince contradicted her.
“Can love become only a dreary habit?” Katharina enquired.
“In the dark all lovers are grey,” he replied.
Katharina laughed, throwing back her head.
“Are you really as cynical as that?” she asked.
“Not where you are concerned,” he answered and bent to kiss her hand.
*
It was evening before Katharina found that there was a chance of seeing the Czar alone.
His day had been spent in hysterical denouncements of his Ministers, recriminations and dismissals and sullen silences, which were more frightening to his entourage than when he berated them.
It was usual for those who were to spend a part of the night in seeking enjoyment to rest before dinner.
It was a time for many in the palace not only for rest but for love and Katharina, as she rustled down the corridors, wondered how many closed doors hid secret lovers seizing a few minutes from their arduous duties and public appearances for the carefree happiness of love.
But such secrets would not be hidden for long, she thought. Prince Volkonski would know about them before evening from the chambermaids, valets, waiters and sentries, who were all in his pay.
Everything, whether it concerned the Czar, the Empress or the most unimportant little secretary, was reported to him.
As she crossed the Imperial bedroom, she knew that the time she entered the room would have been noted and that the Prince would already have been informed that she was there.
She must not fail him, she thought. It was important for her to remain in his good graces.
The Czar was lying on his hard narrow bed, which was, however, covered with a spread of gold lame lined with sable.
The Enchanted Waltz Page 14
