‘And you agreed?’
‘Of course I agreed! I love him, Martha. And when we got there, his friend was kindness itself, arranged everything for us. Oh, it wasn’t the wedding I’d meant to have – I suppose we all have our dreams. We just slipped off between rehearsals. Desmond said we wouldn’t announce it till we got here, until I had told you and Franz. Then, you see, there can easily be a bit of confusion about whether it actually happened in Munich or back in Salzburg.’
‘But you have been living as man and wife?’ Martha went to the heart of the matter.
‘Martha, we didn’t mean to … I hadn’t thought … Desmond behaved so perfectly all the way to Munich. Treated me like a queen. I think I’d assumed we’d wait … But then, by some strange chance, our rooms at the Munich inn were next door to each other, in a remote wing. It was hard to find. When we got back late from the opera house, Desmond came with me, to show me the way. He opened the door for me, followed me in, kissed my hands, said I was his wife …’ Her hands were twisting together in her lap. ‘Then he kissed me. Our first kiss … And then …’
‘I can imagine,’ said Martha. ‘And afterwards – at Ludwigsburg – what happened there?’
‘Desmond said he could not bear to be parted from me. He arranged for adjacent rooms. He can manage anything, my Desmond. You will love him for my sake, won’t you, Martha?’
‘I’ll do my very best.’ What could Martha do but kiss her and promise? But in her heart, she put a very different gloss on the story. Altogether too many coincidences, too many obliging friends. Desmond Fylde had pushed Cristabel into marriage, but he had done it successfully. They had been living together, in the full public eye, for almost a month. ‘Belle –’ How to ask it?
‘Yes?’ Something heart-rending about Cristabel’s look of a child who expects to be scolded.
‘You aren’t by any chance increasing?’ She got it out.
‘Oh, no.’ Cristabel was glad to be able to reassure her on this point. ‘Desmond said … He thinks of everything, my Desmond. He says my career must come first for a while. He truly loves me, Martha, thinks of me. Says he wants to see the world at my feet.’ She smiled, turned the tables on Martha. ‘But you, Martha dear, have you any news for me?’
‘No, alas. I’m afraid I am a sad disappointment to the Lissenbergers. Almost a year married, and still no sign of the heir they long for.’
‘Well,’ said Cristabel. ‘If Franz stayed at home a little more. Or if you went with him on these foreign tours of his …’
‘But how can he? And, come to that, how can I? You know how things are, here in Lissenberg. We have to face it that there are many in Franz’s revolutionary party who were sadly disappointed to find that instead of an elected president they had got themselves a prince after all. I think, in many ways, he was disappointed himself but, once he found himself the heir, there was nothing for it but to make the best of things. No use pretending it’s been easy this last year. Of course he has had to visit the neighbouring courts, try for their approval, their support. And equally of course I have had to stay at home and run things here. He trusts me to do that. It’s a great compliment.’ She was beginning to wonder if it was one she deserved.
‘One you have earned! But where is he this time? Surely he has reached agreement with the neighbours? They speak well of him in Bavaria and Württemberg, and Princess Amelia must have taken his part when she got home to Baden. I know she died in the end, poor lady, but you did save her life, you and Franz – and Max – when her husband was poisoning her. Tell me, Martha, how is the wicked Prince Gustav? Has Franz thought better of letting him retire to Gustavsberg? I always thought that an act of mad generosity. He’s too dangerous a man to be let loose, that one.’
‘I’m afraid I rather agree with you,’ said Martha. ‘But there has been no persuading Franz of it. He says Gustav’s teeth are drawn; why spend money we cannot afford keeping him in prison, when banishing him to Gustavsberg will do just as well? I think an eye is kept on his visitors, and his mail, though Franz hates even that. He’s such an idealist, dear man.’
‘Crazy,’ said Cristabel. ‘In a world like ours. Where is he this time, Martha?’
‘He’s gone to France, to try and find out how Napoleon’s mind is working.’
‘Into the lion’s mouth! The Emperor can hardly be best pleased with little Lissenberg since the way Prince Gustav turned against him after the murder of the Due d’Enghien last year. But I remember Franz was a great admirer of Bonaparte’s back in Paris when we were all there. Strange to think that he was a penniless young musician then and now he has gone back there as Prince of Lissenberg. How will you feel, Martha, if he returns to announce an alliance with France against England?’
‘I must make myself feel as a Princess of Lissenberg should,’ Martha told her. ‘And I do beg you to help me, whatever your own feelings.’
‘You can rely on me. I’m no politician as you well know. Desmond says the world of art has no frontiers, and I agree with him. And, as for you, Martha, after all, you’re not British at all, but American; your country is an ancient ally of France.’
‘I keep reminding myself of that, but just the same, I can’t like what Napoleon is doing. Still less trust him. I shall feel much safer when Franz gets home.’
‘At least he can’t try and marry him to one of Josephine’s nieces,’ said Cristabel, whose own romance with Franz’s brother had been abruptly broken off when Napoleon demanded that Max engage himself to Minette de Beauharnais, his wife’s niece by her first marriage.
‘No,’ Martha smiled a little wryly. ‘I do serve that useful purpose.’ And then, quickly changing the subject: ‘But aside from the great fact of your marriage, you’ve told me nothing about the tour, Belle, or Signor Franzosi’s plans for the winter season.’
‘Grandiose, as usual. Oh, Martha, I am disappointed Franz isn’t here. I hadn’t realised how much I had counted on him to make Franzosi see reason a bit, and, besides,’ colouring, ‘I thought he’d make the announcement about my marriage. He’d know just how to do it.’
‘You’ll have to make do with me.’ Martha, too, had been wishing her husband was at home, to advise whether they should announce the marriage or insist it be annulled. But how could they do that? Desmond and Cristabel had been living together as man and wife for a month in the close conditions of a touring company. Desmond Fylde had played his cards too well. She thought there was nothing for it but to yield him the game, but with the darkest forebodings for the future. ‘I shall give a celebration dinner tomorrow,’ she said now. ‘To mark your return. And make the announcement then. I doubt it will come as much of a surprise to the company.’
‘No,’ Cristabel admitted. ‘There have been some knowing looks, I’ve thought. My Desmond adores me so, he says, it’s hard for him not to let it show. He’s singing better than ever, Martha.’ She had seemed increasingly restless, now rose and moved over to the palace window. ‘Oh, there’s the carriage. He said he would come and fetch me. Martha, you will receive him, congratulate him?’
‘Why –’ A tiny pause – ‘Yes, of course.’ Desmond Fylde’s next move had come even sooner than she had expected, but what else could she do but receive him?
He looked handsomer than ever, very sleek, very pleased with himself, and she disliked him even more than she had remembered. She kept the interview as short and as formal as possible. There were advantages, she was beginning to learn, about being a princess.
Chapter 2
‘Desmond, it’s late!’ Cristabel turned in the huge bed her husband had had installed in the star’s apartments, for a quick glance at the clock. ‘We must get up! The rehearsal begins in half an hour.’
‘Ah, let them wait.’ He reached out a casual arm to circle her waist and pull her down to him. ‘You’re the prima donna, my queen, let them practise their trills and tremolos without you; we have better things to do, you and I. We are owed a honeymoon, my angel. Franzosi should have more se
nse than to call us for rehearsal so early.’ His other hand was busy at the neck of her nightgown. ‘Why do you insist on wearing this high-buttoned garment in bed? To torment me?’ He ripped a buttonhole, swore an oath she had not heard before. ‘There!’ A note of triumph as his questing fingers found her breast and caught it in a grip that both hurt and roused her.
‘But, Desmond –’ She thought he had accepted that love in the morning left her unable to put her heart into her work. The high-necked nightgown had been meant as a tacit reminder of this.
‘But, Bella –’ His tone at once imitated and faintly mocked hers. ‘Must I remind you of a wife’s first duty? To her husband, my own, to the husband who adores her; can’t work, can’t live, can’t even think without her. My love!’ He had got rid of the nightgown now and was kissing her leisurely here and there. As she felt herself gradually give way to his mastery, she felt also a small protesting voice somewhere deep down in her. What was it saying?
It was not the first time they had been late for rehearsal, but she had not previously been aware of the company’s irritation, as well as Franzosi’s. They were working on an opera he had written ready to celebrate Prince Franz’s return, and she knew and regretted that she was doing less than justice to her difficult part. It was not total comfort that her husband was superb in his.
If Martha had been tempted to tell Cristabel about that moment of terror among the vines, her marriage put it out of the question. She had raised the labourers’ pay and got little thanks for it. The days dragged on, with still no word from Franz, and she felt more and more alone in her palace full of servants. She had hoped that her husband would return in time for the anniversary, on September 7th, of the night that had made him Prince of Lissenberg, but it came and went without any word either from him or from Cristabel’s mother in Venice. Franz would most certainly return before winter closed the mountain road to Lake Constance. In her heart, she was sure he would be back before that, in time for their wedding anniversary in October, but she grew less and less hopeful of a visit from Cristabel’s delightful, pleasure-loving mother and her long time lover, Count Tafur. Idiotic, really, to have hoped for it, when Lucia Aldini hardly troubled to stir from her luxurious Venetian palazzo except to visit the theatre and the opera house. Besides, what could anyone do for Cristabel, now that the marriage had been on public display for so long? Desmond Fylde had made it impossible for her to see Cristabel alone, but she was growing increasingly anxious about her. Anna had friends and cousins working both in the opera house and at the artists’ hostel next door to it, and brought her the gossip from there.
‘He makes her late for rehearsals.’ Anna was tidying the bedroom. ‘They don’t like it, and of course she feels that and sings worse than ever.’
‘Worse? Anna, what do you mean?’
‘You haven’t heard? No, I suppose you wouldn’t have. It’s just as well for her that the prince has been delayed. She’s finding Franzosi’s music difficult, they say, not singing her best at all. Some of them think he should have given her some time off, even if he wasn’t consulted about the wedding, but naturally that made him angry. Herr Fylde is singing like an angel, they say. Well, he’s got what he wanted. It would be a pity if this opera were triumph for him and disaster for her.’
‘Surely he’s got more sense than that?’ Though she was a duke’s daughter, Cristabel had no money of her own, her only prospects were in the opera house. Martha thought Desmond Fylde would remember this, fortune-hunter that she was sure he was.
‘You’d think so. But some of us wonder if he really knows what he wants, that one. He’s so certain he can charm the birds off the trees. Forgive me, highness, I’m talking too much.’ She picked up an armful of petticoats and whisked herself out of the room before Martha could ask what she meant.
Martha was not sure she wanted to know. She was sitting, very rarely for her, doing nothing but brood about how to help Cristabel, when the sight of a carriage coming up the hill to the castle set her heart racing. Franz at last? No. As it drew nearer she swallowed sharp disappointment. Franz had driven off, most reluctantly, in his father’s state coach; this was merely a gentleman’s luxurious travelling carriage.
But whoever it was must be welcomed, and she was already busy making the necessary adjustments from lady at home to princess regnant when Anna reappeared to announce the Lord Chamberlain. Prince Franz had seen no reason to replace the majority of his father’s court servants, and Baron Hals was gradually adjusting himself to the shocking informality of the new court. If he and Martha both remembered a night when he had condemned her to the ice-cold dungeons under the castle, neither of them referred to it.
‘Highness,’ he said now. ‘An Italian gentleman is below, asking for you. A Count Tafur …’
‘Alone?’ But she should have expected this. ‘I’ll see him in the small withdrawing room, baron. He’s an old friend of mine and Lady Cristabel’s. You will see that he is comfortably lodged, of course. And,’ an idea struck her. ‘Send a message to Signor Franzosi at the opera house. Tell him I have an unexpected guest I’d like to entertain. A small, intimate performance tomorrow night? Something he has ready … Tell him I know I can count on him.’
‘I congratulate you!’ After the first greeting, Count Tafur looked her up and down with the friendly, quizzical glance she remembered so well. ‘Every inch the princess. We were so sorry, Lucia and I, not to have been able to come to your wedding last autumn, but you know how she is. And this time, too, she thought it best to send me alone. Quite aside from her basic idleness, which we all know and love, she said you would find us an awkward enough couple to entertain. One of these days, perhaps, I shall persuade her to marry me, but I have not managed it yet. We are very well as we are, she says, and who am I to contradict her?’
‘If only Cristabel had felt the same.’ Martha was amazed to hear herself say it.
‘It’s as bad as that?’
‘I’m afraid so. I’m more grateful than I can say to you for coming, though goodness knows what anyone can do for her … My friend and adviser Ishmael Brodski has made enquiries about Mr Fylde. There is a good deal that is shady about him, but no trace of a previous marriage to invalidate this one. He trapped her into it, count. I don’t think there is the slightest doubt about that.’ She plunged into the story, glad of the chance to tell it to this wise old friend who was as good as Cristabel’s stepfather. And a great deal better than her father, she thought, as she told of the duke’s invitation that had effectively removed Cristabel’s one protection, the dragon aunt who had watched over her for so long.
‘Lady Helen simply abandoned her niece at Salzburg?’ Tafur was shocked too.
‘It was irresistible, don’t you see? To stand godmother alongside Queen Charlotte!’
‘And Fylde saw his chance, and took it. You have to give him credit for quick planning. The poor child suspected nothing?’
‘Not at the time, I think. She’s always thrown herself so much into her singing; she’s an innocent still in some ways. Lady Helen was the one who pointed that out to me.’
‘Which makes her own behaviour now all the more inexcusable. But that’s water under the bridge. The question is, what can we do now? If Cristabel were only a Catholic, I would hope for help from my friend the Pope, but as it is … Married by a Protestant minister at Munich, presumably with the blessing of the British representative there … Besides, would she agree?’
‘Not yet! But it’s affecting her singing, I’m told. I’ve asked for an opera tomorrow night, to celebrate your coming. You must judge for yourself.’
‘And we must do nothing to throw her even more firmly into his arms,’ said Tafur shrewdly. ‘Does she know you sent for me – for us?’
‘I called it a visit to celebrate her marriage.’
‘Clever of you. Lucia sends you all kinds of love, by the way, and thanks for more care of her daughter than she has ever given.’
‘Oh –’ Martha was surprised
by a prickle of tears behind her eyes.
‘And you?’ Another of his shrewd looks. ‘Do you enjoy being a princess? Do the Lissenbergers love you as they should? What a surprise that was! I do look forward to meeting your husband, lucky man. In every sense! Kingdom and bride at one swoop. I hope you expect him soon.’
‘I wish I knew! I’ve not heard for a long while.’ She was glad to share her anxiety. ‘He’s in France,’ she explained. ‘I can’t help feeling anxious …’
‘On more counts than one! But I really do not think you need be fearing anything like a repetition of Napoleon’s murder of the Due d’Enghien. He learned a lesson there, I am sure, though he will never admit it. He knows now that he must play the aristocrats’ game more or less their way. And by all I’ve heard of him your Franz won’t like that much either.’
‘No. I worry about what Franz will do just as much. He made such a hero of Napoleon as the democratic leader he thought him. And now! Emperor of France, King of Italy, a court as full of pomp and ceremony as any in Europe … I made Franz promise to be careful what he said, but he does still come out with things. And I love him for it!’
‘Not easy to find oneself a prince overnight,’ said Tafur. ‘And he did always sound a very positive young man, from what you and Cristabel said of him.’
Martha laughed. ‘I thought him an intolerable bully when he was working on Cristabel’s singing with her. What a long time ago it seems! Oh, it’s good to see you. You’ll stay a while, now you are here?’ She asked it eagerly, and he was glad to see her looking more cheerful, more like the forthright young American girl he and Lucia had grown to love quite as much as Lucia’s own daughter. She had never been beautiful, but there had been a glow of intelligence about her that had been in some ways better than beauty. He had missed it when he first saw her, but it was back now, and he was glad.
Leading Lady Page 2
