Leading Lady

by Jane Aiken Hodge

  ‘Last night.’ He described what had happened, briefly.

  ‘Oh, the poor, hopeless fellow,’ said Max, and they were both quiet for a while.

  ‘You again!’ Joseph looked with genuine surprise at Brother Heinz as he was brought through the crowded hall to the dais. ‘What now?’

  ‘Highness, I am sent to report another casualty of this storm. The Fathers thought you should know at once, and the French gentlemen too, since it concerns them.’

  ‘Do you speak French?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, highness. Only German and Liss. I’m just a simple Lissenberger.’

  If there was such an animal, Joseph thought. ‘Then speak German and I will translate for you.’ He turned to the French officers. ‘This man has come down from the monastery. He says he has news that concerns you. Of another victim of the weather. Shall I translate for you?’ And, taking agreement for granted. ‘Go on, Heinz.’

  ‘He came at first light this morning. He’d been out all night … His horse foundered, somewhere on the slope up from Lake Constance … Fell with him suddenly. Hurt his chest … The strap of his wallet broke, he says, it fell away into the snow, down the slope, won’t be seen till spring. He’s an imperial messenger,’ Heinz explained, and waited for Joseph to translate.

  ‘And the message?’ Joseph asked, having done so. ‘Does he know what it is?’

  ‘Oh, yes. The Emperor is outside Vienna, needs more men. You are to send him every man you can spare. The Russians have joined forces with the Austrians against him.’ Joseph, translating swiftly for the French officers, thought the speech very obviously learned by heart, but then, so it would have been, even had the message been genuine. He turned back to Heinz. ‘The messenger,’ he asked. ‘How is he? If I come, could I help him? Could I question him?’

  ‘The brothers say no, highness. No hope. He told us all this when he first came, they got some brandy down him, it helped for a while, he got his message out, then, suddenly, something happened … He’s not been conscious since … It’s only a matter of time, we think. And, highness, it’s snowing again. I was told to come back as soon as you can spare me, for fear of not being able to get through.’

  He had been well coached, Joseph thought. Once again, he felt Cristabel’s hand held out to help him. And, he was sure, if he should fight his way through the snow, with one of the French officers for witness, there would be a convincingly helpless ‘dying’ man to interview. Fruitlessly, of course. Once again, he translated for the Frenchmen, then addressed the three senior officers. ‘I think we have no choice in the matter,’ he told them. ‘The Emperor needs you; I must let you go. It’s too late tonight, I am afraid, but you must make ready to start at first light in the morning. Every hour will make the pass more dangerous. Frankly, I had been wondering whether I should not send you out anyway, for all our sakes. This order comes as a relief to me. I think I may deal better with the Lissenbergers on my own.’

  ‘You won’t come with us?’

  ‘No. It’s my duty to stay here, hold Lissenberg.’ He did not say for whom. ‘You will report the situation fully to the Emperor, and I will write to him, of course.’ Though what he would say was very much another question. It was going to be a busy night.

  ‘But the engineers,’ said the officer from Brundt. ‘What of them?’

  It was a question Joseph had very much hoped no one would remember to ask. In their precipitate retreat, the French had forgotten all about the engineers, hard at work in the cutting on the other side of Brundt, and it had been an immense relief to Joseph since these were the one group of Frenchmen who knew exactly which way the road was going. But they were enthusiasts more for their work than for their Emperor, and had so far been too busy to bother about the implications of the line the road was taking. ‘Oh, they must stay,’ he said now. ‘I’ll see they are protected. I promised the Emperor the road would be through next year. They must be here to start work first thing in the spring. No need to fear for them, gentlemen. All Lissenberg has a stake in that road.’ And that, at least, was true.

  He was struggling with the seventh draft of an impossible letter to Napoleon when Baron Hals appeared. ‘Prince Franz has returned, highness. He asks to see you. At once.’

  ‘He’s alone?’ Here was something strange. ‘Send him in.’

  ‘I left the others at the hostel.’ Franz had told his tale in the fewest possible words. ‘I thought it safest.’

  ‘And came to share my fate. Thank you, Franz.’

  ‘Martha is here.’

  ‘She knows you’re safe?’

  ‘I sent a message. But the French? Are they really going?’

  ‘Unless anything goes wrong overnight. Hold your breath, Franz, and pray. Anything could burst this bubble! You were absolutely right not to bring anyone else here. Just one casual word could make them realise how they are being hoodwinked.’

  ‘Then we had better not speak until they are gone!’

  ‘No. Franz, where is Cristabel?’

  ‘Still up with the Trappists. Just in case the French decide to go and interview the “messenger”. Rather a young one, but I’d trust her to put on a deathbed scene that would convince anyone. By sheer good luck, Brother Heinz was down at the opera house. She sent him up through the vineyards with the message, went up through the tunnels herself, in case the French should insist on seeing Napoleon’s man.’

  ‘Thank God for Cristabel,’ said Joseph. ‘Franz, help me with this letter to Napoleon! It’s a devil! Must give nothing away, in case they open it …’

  ‘Not easy,’ said Franz. ‘I suppose it depends a little on what you want to tell him.’

  ‘But that’s not the question. You must see that. The question, surely, is what Lissenberg wants to tell him.’

  ‘I don’t see why you shouldn’t know that as well as anyone else. Better.’

  ‘Then I shall tell him Lissenberg means to be a friendly neutral. Will that make Cristabel very angry, do you think?’

  ‘Cristabel?’

  ‘As an Englishwoman.’ Could Joseph possibly be blushing?

  ‘Oh, I see. No, I think Cristabel thinks, now, as an artist, not a patriot. Of any kind.’

  ‘Pity we haven’t got more like her,’ said Joseph.

  There was a savage frost that night, but no snow fell, and the French marched out in good order next morning, played off with a spirited rendering of the ‘Marseillaise’ by the palace musicians. They had the best guides in Lissenberg to see them safe over the pass and down to Lake Constance. After they had left, no one said much. They might still find the pass impossible and come back.

  ‘But I doubt it.’ Paying Martha his daily visit as if nothing had happened, Joseph had found Franz with her. ‘They were badly frightened men. I think they will prefer a snowdrift or two to being murdered in their beds.’

  ‘What savages they must think us,’ said Martha.

  ‘We Lissenbergers?’ Franz’s voice was very loving. ‘But, I think, my darling, they are judging by themselves. How many of them, I wonder, lost a loved one or a friend during their Reign of Terror, ten years ago. It’s not a long time to forget anything so savage. You Americans managed things better with your revolution.’

  ‘I’m not an American any more,’ Martha smiled at them both. ‘I find I am a Lissenberger.’

  ‘And Cristabel?’ asked Joseph.

  ‘You’d better ask her,’ said Martha. ‘But not today. She said she would stay at the monastery until tomorrow, just in case the French took it into their heads to pay a call on their dying messenger.’ She looked out of the window. ‘I ought to go and see Lady Helen, she will be anxious.’

  ‘Send for her,’ said Joseph. ‘You are supposed to be looking after yourself. Or rather, I will send, for her and for Max. We three have a lot to think about, Franz.’

  ‘What I want to know,’ said Franz, ‘is just what the Lissenbergers are thinking. What they expected would happen after they put that fright into the French.
After all, Joseph, for all they knew, you might have scuttled off over the mountains too!’

  ‘Those poor French,’ said Martha. ‘What will the Emperor do to them, do you think?’

  ‘I wrote him a very politic letter,’ Joseph told her. ‘Saying a great deal, and nothing at all. With a bit of luck, he’ll need the men – he always does – and by spring this storm in a mountain valley will be forgotten. Or remembered as unimportant.’

  ‘Just the same,’ said Franz. ‘I’ll be glad when the guides get back with the news that the French are across the lake. What will you do if they come back, Joseph? I rather expected to see the guard out in full strength, just in case.’

  ‘Good gracious, no,’ said Joseph. ‘That would be to admit I had deceived them. No, I thought I’d ask them, very civilly, if they would be so good as to hold Gustavsberg for me for the winter.’

  ‘Clever,’ said Franz. ‘I knew you’d think of something.’

  But the long day dragged on with no sign of the French, and at last, just towards dusk, the guides returned to report that they had seen them safe down the last slope to Lake Constance.

  ‘No chance of their starting to cross until morning,’ said Franz, ‘and it will take several days, I’m afraid, for their numbers to get over. Suppose they should meet a real imperial messenger, with real news?’

  ‘It’s snowing again,’ said Joseph. ‘The guides say the pass will be closed by morning.’

  ‘We’re shut up here for the winter!’ Lady Helen had arrived expecting to find Cristabel at the palace and had spent the day grumbling to Martha about her mysterious absence. ‘I had so hoped I might be able to get my poor Cristabel down to Venice – to her mother for the rest and care she needs.’

  ‘Rest and care? Lady Cristabel?’ asked Joseph. ‘You think that is what she needs?’

  ‘Of course. How should a man understand? After the summer she has had – the way that man treated her – you cannot surely imagine that she will be able to go on singing in your opera house as if nothing had happened? Associating with the seconda donna? Do you know where that man spent his last night in Lissenberg?’

  ‘No,’ said Joseph. ‘Nor do I wish to. And it is no kindness on your part, Lady Helen, to keep reminding your niece of the past. That’s the way to turn her into a moping widow. Not her line at all. What she needs, just now, is to be occupied, to be needed. As indeed she is. This is not going to be an easy winter, here in Lissenberg.’

  ‘I should rather think not,’ said Lady Helen. ‘They’ll be murdering all foreigners in their beds next, not just the French. That’s what I told Cristabel. If she’s got any sense, maybe she’s safe away after all. The monastery is almost at the top of the pass. What’s to stop her getting out, while she’s up there, and the going is still good?’

  ‘She’d never leave you, Lady Helen,’ said Martha.

  ‘I left her,’ said Lady Helen. ‘What is there to keep her here, now? I’ll not blame her if she’s gone to her mother, left me here to face the winter alone.’

  ‘Not alone, Lady Helen,’ said Martha. ‘I need you.’ She had seen Joseph’s face go grey at Lady Helen’s suggestion. How could she have been so blind? All kind of things made sudden sense. ‘But she won’t have gone,’ she said with absolute certainty. ‘She knows we all need her. Yes, Baron Hals?’

  ‘There’s a deputation, highness.’ He looked at all three princes, spoke to Joseph. ‘From Lissenberg. They came up through the tunnel, ask you to see them. They are in the great hall.’

  ‘How many?’ asked Joseph. ‘And who?’

  ‘Just six of them. Three from Lissenberg, three from Brundt. Frau Schmidt –’ He named the others.

  ‘Good.’ Joseph exchanged a satisfied glance with Franz. ‘We’ll see them, Hals, but not in the great hall. Take them to my office, arrange for refreshments, we will be with them directly. All of us, I think. Martha, are you well enough?’

  ‘Of course I am. There’s nothing wrong with me. And Lady Helen will keep me company …’

  ‘I’ll keep you company, Martha.’ Cristabel had emerged from the secret door while their attention was centred on Hals. ‘And thanks for your confidence.’ She turned to Lady Helen. ‘You can’t really have thought I would leave you, aunt?’

  ‘How was I to know what to think!’ And then, scandalised. ‘You cannot be proposing to meet the delegation dressed like that?’

  ‘I’m not meeting the delegation.’ Cristabel glanced down at her doublet and hose, now the worse for a good deal of wear. ‘That’s the princes’ business. But if I can appear like this at the opera house, I don’t see why I can’t at the palace.’

  ‘Of course.’ Joseph dismissed it. ‘But there is something I must say to you first.’ He turned to Martha. ‘May I beg the use of your room for a few minutes? And, Franz, tell Hals we’ll be with the delegation immediately, will you?’

  ‘You wish to see Lady Cristabel alone?’ Lady Helen sounded both amazed and outraged as Martha rose to her feet and made to usher her out.

  ‘Yes, alone. If she does not object?’

  ‘Why should I?’ Cristabel made him a little stage bow. ‘My employer, after all, Aunt Helen. And we should not be keeping the Lissenbergers waiting.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Joseph said to her as the door closed gently behind Max.

  ‘No need for thanks.’ She took a step forward into the room. ‘I am absolutely devoured with curiosity, prince. What question is important enough to keep the Lissenbergers waiting?’

  ‘If you don’t know, it’s not worth the asking. But you do know. We’ve no time for pretence, Cristabel. No need for it, either. You must have known how totally I have been yours, ever since that first day, that first touch of your hand. Crazy, perhaps, but there it is. And now, in a minute, I am to meet the Lissenbergers and make a decision that will affect my whole life. How can I do it, without consulting you first?’

  ‘You mean, you would say no?’

  ‘If that was what you wanted. Yes I would. Do you think me madly over confident that I assume they are going to offer me Lissenberg?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘Not now they understand you. Now you understand yourself.’

  ‘You were terribly angry with me.’

  ‘Yes. I thought you had betrayed yourself, as well as the rest of us. I’m glad I was wrong. But, Joseph,’ when had she used his name before? ‘You are forgetting something. I am no princess for Lissenberg. A widow! Of two days. And such a widow. Of such a husband. Publicly, here in Lissenberg. You’d be a laughing stock.’

  ‘If they think that, I’m no prince for them. If they do offer it to me, I shall stipulate absolute freedom to marry as I please. No more than that, and no less. And let them think what they will.’

  ‘And if they say no?’

  He smiled, and took her hand. ‘I am afraid I may be reduced to living on the earnings of my brilliant wife! But they’ll offer it to me, you’ll see. Cristabel, you’ve helped me so. You’re not going to fail me now!’

  ‘You won’t mind my singing?’ Their hands had touched, elapsed, now he was pulling her towards him.

  ‘You are your singing.’ He bent to kiss her and time stood still.

  ‘Just the same.’ She freed herself, gently, at last. ‘We should see these Lissenbergers.’

  ‘Bless you for that we! Cristabel, how soon?’

  ‘Ah, my dear,’ she smiled up at him. ‘We’ll have to consult Aunt Helen about that.’

  A Note on the Author

  Jane Aiken Hodge was born in Massachusetts to Pulitzer prize-winning poet, Conrad Aiken, and his first wife, writer Jessie McDonald. Hodge was 3 years old when her family moved to Great Britain, settling in Rye, East Sussex, where her younger sister, Joan, who would become a novelist and a children's writer, was born.

  From 1935, Jane Hodge read English at Somerville College, Oxford University, and in 1938 she took a second degree in English at Radcliffe College. She was a civil servant, and also worked for Time Magazine, be
fore returning to the UK in 1947. Her works of fiction include historical novels and contemporary detective novels. In 1972 she renounced her United States citizenship and became a British subject.

  Discover books by Jane Aiken Hodgepublished by Bloomsbury Reader at

  www.bloomsbury.com/JaneAikenHodge

  Leading Lady

  Rebel Heiress

  This electronic edition published in 2012 by Bloomsbury Reader

  Bloomsbury Reader is a division of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 50 Bedford Square, London WC1B 3DP

  First published in Great Britain 1990, Hodder & Stoughton

  Copyright © 1990 JANE AIKEN HODGE

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  eISBN: 9781448210091

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