Leading Lady

by Jane Aiken Hodge

  ‘He made a special journey to Brundt to deliver the invitations to your party in person,’ Martha pointed out. ‘And so far as I know everyone is coming.’

  ‘Every single kraut and burgher!’ Minette had not liked seeing what she had meant as a select little party so extended. ‘How in the world are you going to fit them all in, Martha?’

  ‘By opening up the armoury on one side of the great hall, and the guard-room on the other.’ Martha smiled. ‘I’ve had to borrow all the tapestries from the opera house and the hostel, and Frau Schmidt has promised to come early and bring me some from Brundt. We’ll have refreshments in the armoury, dancing in the great hall, with the orchestra on the dais. And the singers there too, of course.’

  ‘This mysterious Beethoven opera that everyone’s so excited about. I never could endure his music myself, but I suppose one must sit through it out of courtesy to Cristabel. But, Martha, the dancing. That ridiculous man Joseph is so busy … Has he thought that he must open the ball? Suitably partnered –’ A significant pause.

  ‘I expect so,’ said Martha. ‘But you know, Minette, he’s been so absorbed since the Emperor’s engineers arrived that there has been no getting him to think about anything else. When I ask about the party, he just leaves everything to me!’

  ‘But he sees you!’ Minette pounced on it.

  ‘Five minutes every morning. Question and answer, and he’s off to the mountains again with the engineers. They want to ride both ends of the cut they plan before winter closes in; and the country is pretty rugged, he says. He’s enjoying himself!’ It was impossible not to like Joseph for the way he had plunged into this arduous work, and it was doing him good, she thought. Tanned and toughened by the all-weather riding, he no longer looked so much older than his brothers.

  ‘Oh, men!’ said Minette. ‘Well, tomorrow morning, Martha, you remind him about opening the ball! It won’t do to get the Lissenbergers together and then affront them by any breach of ceremony.’

  ‘No.’ Martha agreed. ‘But then, there are all kinds of ways to affront people, aren’t there? It’s not going to be an easy occasion, Minette. I just hope it isn’t a disastrous one.’

  ‘Krauts and burghers,’ said Minette again. ‘What they need is a lavish show, and I am sure we can rely on you to provide that, Martha. What a good creature you are, to be sure, to take so much trouble for the man who has ousted your husband. I do hope you realise how much we appreciate it, even if my wicked Joseph is too busy to say so.’

  ‘I hope you won’t treat our guests as “krauts and burghers”, Minette.’

  ‘I suppose you think I should dance with your dear friend Ishmael Brodski, just to show what good democrats we are.’

  ‘If he were to ask you,’ said Martha.

  Desmond Fylde was finding Beethoven’s music hard to sing, as indeed it was, but worth it, in Cristabel’s opinion, which he did not share. Franz kept them late at the opera house on the night before the party and had a qualm of conscience when he finally let them go. Cristabel looked exhausted, and Fylde looked predatory. But he was already overdue at the palace, where, he knew, there were a million things still to be done.

  ‘Rest well,’ he told Cristabel. ‘I’m sure it will go brilliantly tomorrow. And then we can get down to work on the opera itself. Exactly what we need for this winter.’

  ‘Not a call to revolution in it anywhere?’

  ‘No. Just love of country. What could be more suitable for Lissenberg right now?’

  ‘And love of one another,’ said Cristabel. ‘Regulus may love Rome, but Marcus loves Regulus.’

  ‘Hard on Livia,’ said Fylde, and it came back to Franz that during the day he had seen some kind of angry exchange between Fylde and Maria, the seconda donna who sang Livia. ‘And hard, too,’ Fylde went on, ‘that Maria is not to sing tomorrow. Can I not persuade you to change your mind about that?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’ Maria sang Beethoven’s difficult music even worse than Fylde, but one could hardly tell him that. ‘The prince has asked that the entertainment be kept short, as you know, leaving plenty of time for talk and dancing. You two are just the appetiser to the feast.’

  ‘What a vulgarian!’ Fylde had firmly taken Cristabel’s arm as they left the opera house. ‘Lissenberg’s well rid of him. The appetiser indeed! And all this talk about love of country is quite comic, when you think about our Doctor – Prince Joseph, born in Switzerland, bred in France, a man out for himself if ever there was one. He loves Lissenberg the way a gourmet loves a truffle. To swallow it whole.’ His pressure on her arm increased. ‘That’s one opinion we share, you and I, as I well know. Scorn for the interloper who made such a public fool of you. Doctor Joseph indeed! Pretender and mountebank. It makes me mad to remember how I let him pull the wool over my eyes! Left him alone to “examine” you. We could make things very awkward for Prince Joseph if we were so minded, you and I.’

  ‘What in the world do you mean?’ They had reached the main hall of the hostel and she turned to face him, withdrawing her arm from his.

  ‘Pretending to be a doctor! Interfering between man and wife! Oh, I’ve held my tongue for your sake, my queen, but much more of this high-handed behaviour and I shall feel moved to speak.’

  ‘What high-handed behaviour?’

  ‘Making us sing this trash of Beethoven’s! And then leaving poor Maria out of it. She feels it, poor girl, she feels it badly.’

  ‘So badly that she has taken up with a French officer.’ She regretted the words as soon as they were spoken.

  ‘Well, poor girl, how could she hope to hold me when everyone knows my heart is yours? Always has been, always will. We have to talk, my own, and not here in public. I’ve heard from Vienna at last. A firm offer. For the two of us! We can wash our hands of Lissenberg.’

  ‘Vienna?’ She was so surprised that she let him follow her into her own apartments. ‘But Napoleon will be there any day now!’

  ‘What’s that to the purpose? I’d sing for the devil himself, if he would just get me out of Lissenberg.’

  ‘You’ve been gambling! You’re in debt!’ They were not questions.

  ‘Oh, my angel, nothing to signify. But I have realised something, understood something at last. There is no hope for us, for you and me, here in Lissenberg. Oh, I don’t blame you, how should I, for having regal memories, letting them maybe grow into hopes. Two unmarried princes, and everyone knows one of them adored you once. But you married me, remember. And you had better remember, and show it, or I could make bad trouble – and not just for you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t try it, if I were you.’ She was white with anger. ‘I have friends here in Lissenberg, and some standing. And Prince Joseph has absolute power. Just think about that, before you make your filthy suggestions about him. Martha and I spent a night, once, in the cells below the palace. Oh, they let us off lightly. We sat with the guards by their fire, but it is not a night I shall forget. Your voice, what remains of it, would not last long if you were to find yourself shut up in the dungeons themselves.’

  ‘You wouldn’t –’

  ‘It’s not what I would do. It is what Prince Joseph would. It has been a brilliant, bloodless coup so far and he is working hard to keep it that way. But don’t think he might not be savage, if challenged.’

  ‘You helped him to it. I’ll never understand that, not so long as I live.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you will. I’m not sure I do myself. But it had to be done. I knew that, if I knew nothing else. Otherwise I truly think the opera house would have run red with Lissenberg blood that night. And it would have ended with Lissenberg absorbed totally into France, instead of the fragile independence we still have.’

  ‘Good gracious.’ Mocking. ‘You sound like a Lissenberger, my angel.’

  ‘I feel like a Lissenberger. And I am not your angel. Once and for all, I ask you to recognise that I no longer look on you as my husband, except in the most pettifogging legal sense. Half my earnings, yes. Any
part of my life, never.’ She moved across the room, to the door that led to Lady Helen’s room. ‘Now, do I call Aunt Helen and the servants, and have you forcibly removed, or will you try to behave like a gentleman, and go?’

  ‘Oh, I’ll go where I’m wanted, never fear for that. And I won’t come back.’

  ‘Except to sing with me, I trust.’

  ‘With what remains of my voice? You wouldn’t prefer to have one of those out-of-work princes sing with you instead? You were getting on famously with Prince Franz, I remember, when I came here last year. And then there’s your old love, who let you steal his laurels all that time ago, Prince Max. A pity they’re such a starchy lot here in Lissenberg, or I’d seriously consider letting you make it worth my while to help you to a divorce, now that we’re in for French law here. But it would be no use, would it, my poor angel, no use at all?’

  ‘You make me sick,’ she said.

  It was snowing a little on the morning of the party, light scurries of flakes blowing against the palace windows, and Martha paused anxiously from time to time in the course of her preparations to peer out of a window and wonder if the Lissenbergers would make this their excuse not to come. She had invited Frau Schmidt to stay at the palace, but the old lady had sent a friendly note to say she had already arranged to spend the night with friends in Lissenberg. Implicit in it was the knowledge that if she came to the party, her friends must come too. Minette’s party would only be a good idea if everyone came, and would they? And what would happen if they did? Prince Joseph had arranged that no French soldiers should be in sight, though they would naturally be on call in their barracks below the castle. And their officers had had to be invited. What might the volatile Lissenbergers do if they were to feel themselves the overwhelming majority? Or if trouble broke out with the French officers, who did tend to behave like lords of creation?

  Martha put this to Franz as they were dressing for the party, and he shook his head at her. ‘Don’t even think about it. But if anything should happen, remember that I trust Joseph absolutely.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ she said. ‘So do I.’

  Minette had not been pleased when Joseph made it clear that Martha must stand with him to receive their guests, and was even less so when she discovered that he was to open the dancing with Frau Schmidt. She sulked through the reception, only coming to life when she found herself sitting beside Joseph in the crowded hall, waiting for Cristabel to sing. There was a slight delay, and she turned restlessly to look back at the hall and whisper to Joseph, ‘They’ve come, every man jack of them. I knew it was a good idea.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m grateful to you. Ah!’ Franz had appeared on the dais.

  He raised a hand for silence and the crowded hall stilled. ‘I am grieved to tell you that Herr Fylde, who should have sung Regulus, is indisposed. My brother, Prince Max, has gallantly agreed to take his part at short notice, and begs your tolerance while he does his best with Herr van Beethoven’s remarkable music. As you all doubtless remember, he and Lady Cristabel have sung together before, many years ago.’ This got a roar of friendly appreciation from the audience, as he turned to welcome Cristabel and Max on to the dais.

  ‘Well!’ said Minette. ‘There’s a new come on!’

  ‘Hush!’ said Joseph.

  Max stepped forward to tell the audience, briefly, about the opera and its theme. ‘Lady Cristabel has done me the great honour,’ he concluded, ‘of letting me sing the last duet with her. It is sung before Regulus and his devoted page go off to meet their death together. Death for their country. Before we sing it, Lady Cristabel has asked me to say to you that she, personally, still thinks it preferable to live for one’s country.’ His hand stilled the little murmur of appreciation. ‘Now!’ He turned to Franz, at the fortepiano.

  When it ended, Martha was crying. She thought most people were. Even Minette, on the other side of Joseph, had a hand up to her eyes. And the applause contrived to be both enthusiastic and yet, somehow, muted.

  ‘What a woman!’ Joseph turned to Minette. ‘She holds us in the hollow of her hand.’

  ‘Except her husband,’ said Minette. ‘He’s here, I notice. Too ill to sing but not to dance.’ The musicians were filing on to the dais and Joseph moved away with an apology to find Frau Schmidt. Left alone, Minette looked angrily around. Max was preparing to dance with Cristabel, and Franz with Martha. Intolerable to think she might find herself partnerless. Baron Hals was moving towards her through the crowd. To take pity on her himself? Or to propose some ‘suitable’ Lissenberger? She looked about for a French officer.

  ‘Madame!’ Desmond Fylde appeared beside her. ‘Will you do me the honour? My wife prefers a prince to her husband. Will you let me take my revenge by dancing with the most elegant young lady in the room? We’ll show these clods of Lissenbergers what dancing really is!’

  ‘In a polonaise?’ But she took his hand. ‘I suppose Prince Joseph chose the dull dance in respect for his partner’s advancing years.’

  ‘Even in a polonaise you will shine as always; a little glimpse of civilisation in this barbarous country. It has been my pleasure to watch you from afar, to admire the grace with which you bear the clumsy attentions of the princes. What did you think of Prince Max’s performance just now?’

  ‘I thought he sang like a prince.’

  ‘Excellent!’ He pressed her hand. ‘Just like a prince! I tremble to think what is going to happen to our gallant little opera company this winter, with two amateur princes in charge. I hope to persuade my wife that we should leave before the snow comes. This music of van Beethoven’s is not at all what she should be singing. I am afraid she may damage her voice if she persists in doing so, and we have the most pressing offers from Vienna, where, I imagine, we will have the honour of entertaining that great man, your uncle, the Emperor. I was desolated not to have the pleasure of meeting him when he paid his remarkable flying visit to Lissenberg. As an Irish prince, I think I could have given him some useful advice about an approach to my country that might get him the base he needs for an attack on the great enemy, England. I am sure that with my friends to prepare the ground he would find himself welcomed as an ally in the struggle for Irish independence.’

  ‘Good gracious!’ They had made one full circle of the hall now in the slow movement of the stately dance, and she hesitated, pausing imperceptibly by the entrance to the guard-room. ‘An Irish prince?’

  ‘Why should you know, since here I am treated merely as a poor brute of a singer? My wife is Lady Cristabel, but who would think of giving me my title?’ He bent over her, dark eyes flashing. ‘I am descended, lady, from Cuchulainn, the great hero, the Hound of Ulster. But what does the English oppressor care about that? I am heir to mile upon mile of fertile Irish soil, and look at me! Earning a miserable wage as a professional entertainer. Despised, I have to face it, even by my English wife. It was not I, milady, who declared myself unable to perform today. She decided she would prefer to sing with a prince!’ As he talked, he had guided her out of the circle of dance and into a quiet corner of the armoury. ‘But, forgive me, I am talking too much of myself. Tell me how you endure the tedium of life here in Lissenberg, the prospect of being shut up here for the winter with only our so gallant princes for company? It will be a sad change, I am afraid, from the pleasures of Paris.’

  ‘It will indeed.’ She agreed wholeheartedly. ‘But as a prince yourself sir, you will understand the duties of rank. My uncle has left me here as his representative; he counts on me to watch his interests here.’

  ‘And more than that.’ He gave a quick conspiratorial look round, bent close, to speak low. ‘He means you to bind the prince – one of the princes – to him by marriage. What a wickedness! What a sacrifice! Your elegance, your brains, your beauty thrown away on a boor who doesn’t even have the intelligence to appreciate you. Hush!’ He silenced her angry protest. ‘Everyone knows that Prince Max has loved my wife from childhood, hopelessly, romantically, idiotically
. Fewer people know that she has entangled Joseph too in her wiles. You probably don’t know the story – why should you? But when he was posing as a doctor, spying on Lissenberg, before you came, he persuaded Prince Franz to let him visit my wife. She was having a little trouble with her voice, you understand. It enrages me to remember that I let him talk me into allowing him to see her alone. What went on between them I shall never know. I prefer not even to think about it! I am a much ill used man. Only my pride holds me up. At first, it would not let me tell you this, expose my own shame to you, but then, seeing you so beautiful, so brave – so monstrously deceived, how could I not speak?’

  ‘Prince Joseph? And your wife? I don’t believe it!’

  ‘Open your eyes, madame, and you will. But I have monopolised you for too long. Forgive me, and remember that there is one man in Lissenberg who would risk death to serve you.’

  ‘It’s going to work.’ Ishmael Brodski had asked Martha to dance with him, but she had suggested that they stand and watch instead. ‘That’s a remarkable man, Prince Joseph,’ Brodski went on. ‘Will you forgive me if I tell you I think he will make a better Prince of Lissenberg than either of his delightful brothers?’

  ‘Indeed I will.’ Smiling at him. ‘I think so too, and so, I suspect do his brothers. But I’m surprised as well as delighted to see that Lissenberg seems to agree. The attendance tonight is surely a very cheering vote of confidence. Don’t you think?’

  ‘I do indeed.’ He smiled down at her from his handsome height. ‘You’re a remarkable woman, if I may say so as an old friend. Your quiet support of Prince Joseph has meant a great deal to the Lissenbergers.’