The Musician's Daughter

by Susanne Dunlap

  At that moment I saw the crowd behind Schnabl scattering to permit four tall imperial guards to slice through them. They were heading directly for me. What if my uncle had sent them? I was in terrible danger if they caught me now. Thank God Toby was safe in the Hofburg. Quickly I threw my hood up and hurried away, doing my best to mix in and lose myself in the crowd, hoping no one else would notice me. Schnabl’s voice calling after me to wait disappeared into the general mayhem.

  But I had made far too public an appearance to slip away completely quietly. Cries and jeers followed me.

  “There she is!”

  “Must be his lover!”

  “His sister!”

  “A noblewoman in disguise!”

  “A common whore!”

  I hardly knew where I was going. Before long I stopped, winded, and decided I could lose no time in finding Alida again. She would have to be told about Danior and better she hear it from me than by insensitive gossip.

  I now knew which door would gain me entrance to the private apartments of the Hofburg. I didn’t believe the guards would think to look for me there in their very midst. The serving maids and lackeys had seen me leave earlier, and so did not question my return. I rushed to the sitting room where the maids of honor had taken their ease the day before, but it was empty. “Where is Alida—the Lady Alida?” I asked the same toothless char who had led me through the hidden passages yesterday.

  “She’s attending the archduchess,” she said and punctuated it with a curtsy.

  I could not follow Alida to the presence of royalty. That would be too brazen. Yet, if I did not, valuable time would be lost. “Take me to her,” I commanded, deciding all at once to risk punishment, and knowing that only the appearance of confidence gave me a chance of success.

  “Yes, Madame,” the maid said, dusting her hands off on her apron and straightening her cap.

  I followed her through many rooms, linked to one another by doors like a chain of opulent jewels. As I went, each room became grander and more ornate, until the maid stopped before a closed door and took a deep breath. She lifted her hand and knocked.

  A footman in livery opened the door and let us in. There I saw a woman who was not young, but had been made up and dressed in the latest fashion, half reclining on a sofa. Seated on stools in a semicircle around her were Alida and the two young maids of honor. They were in turn surrounded by several older women, perhaps aristocrats or nobles, who fanned themselves languidly. No one spoke.

  On seeing me, Alida stood and curtsied deeply to the archduchess. “I beg your pardon, Madame, but someone has come to see me on a matter of urgency.”

  The archduchess looked over in my direction. She let her eyes take in my appearance head to toe. “Who is this young person?” she asked.

  I curtsied to the ground and stayed there.

  “She is my cousin, Madame, newly come from Hungary. I had asked her for news of a matter that is of great importance to my family, and I see that she has brought it.”

  “What is this news?” the archduchess asked. “You can have no secrets from me.”

  “Why—I—yes, of course, Your Highness,” Alida said.

  I immediately realized what a mistake it had been to come into the presence of the archduchess. I would have to think of a way to give Alida the information without telling it all too obviously.

  “Is he—safe?” Alida asked.

  “I fear not, Cousin,” I said, tears threatening to choke my voice. “Tomorrow, at dawn, he will meet his fate.”

  I had thought Alida the strongest person I’d ever met, stronger even in her way than Zoltán and Danior. But she crumpled now before me like a leaf fallen from a tree. The archduchess lifted a tiny bell and rang it furiously. The two other maids of honor rushed to Alida, as did I. Soon a maid and a footman entered, and together we laid Alida on a divan. The older of the maids of honor, the one called Liesl, produced a bottle of smelling salts, which she waved under Alida’s nose. The archduchess had risen from her seat. She scanned the faces of her visitors, who were all eyeing Alida and me with open curiosity.

  “I am fatigued. Pray leave me until this evening,” the archduchess said.

  The visitors curtsied and left with obvious reluctance just as Alida regained consciousness, thanks to the ministrations of Rebekah and Liesl.

  “Now,” said the archduchess, “I think you had better explain everything to me. I mean everything.”

  CHAPTER 27

  The archduchess remained standing and listened in silence to the long tale Alida told, starting with the persecution of the Gypsies, continuing through her father’s disinheritance, and ending with Councilor Wolkenstein’s underhanded attempts to ensure that the Hungarian nobles did not have to comply with the laws now imposed upon the Austrians, whereby the serfs were given their freedom and protected from severe taxation and abuse. She avoided talking directly about the night I had passed in my uncle’s cellar, saying only that in the process of trying to rescue young children destined for lives of slavery on a Hungarian estate, Danior had wounded Wolkenstein. I was ashamed of myself for not correcting her, but I said nothing.

  When the entire tale had been laid before her, with all my uncle’s unscrupulous deeds and bribes detailed, the archduchess walked slowly around the room. “Is this what you wanted me to help you lay before their imperial majesties?” she asked. Alida nodded her response.

  “These are heavy accusations,” said the archduchess. “Councilor Wolkenstein is a very respected man. And the word of a Gypsy is worth nothing.”

  I drew my breath in sharply at the archduchess’s remark. She turned and fixed me with a stare. I glanced at Alida, who shook her head to discourage me from speaking. But if I said nothing, what would happen to Danior? Still, I held my tongue.

  “There is also the matter of General Steinhammer,” the archduchess continued. “No matter how just a cause, one cannot go about abducting generals. It is a crime against the state, and punishable by death. He will have to be released before I consent to intervene in this affair.”

  “But you do consent?” Alida’s voice betrayed doubt as well as hope.

  “Against my better judgment.”

  Her Highness’s expression did not change at all. Alida merely curtsied to her. No one otherwise moved a muscle, yet if we did not act quickly, Danior would face a horrific death tomorrow. I could not stay silent any longer. “We must do something! Immediately! Danior will die if we do not! He did not shoot my uncle!”

  I didn’t know which expression made me regret my words more: the shocked and saddened look on Alida’s face, or the stern disapproval on the archduchess’s.

  “I sincerely beg your pardon,” I said, blushing to the roots of my hair and curtsying as low as I could without touching my face to the floor. I prayed that I had not ruined everything.

  “The child is right.”

  I lifted my eyes to gaze into the face of the archduchess. I noticed then that the powder she wore could not disguise the fine lines around her mouth. Her eyes were a little watery, and the skin of her neck was slack in the manner of women who have passed their prime. Yet she was beautiful, in her way. She did not look at me unkindly, but turned away as soon as I caught the softness in her eyes.

  “Have the general brought before me,” the archduchess said. “I would prefer it not to interfere with dinner.”

  Alida pulled me gently to my feet. “With your permission, Ma’am, I shall send word to my brother. I believe he can have General Steinhammer here in a very short time.”

  “Mirela can go!” I said.

  “And who is Mirela?” the archduchess asked.

  “She is my friend,” I responded, enjoying the sensation of the word, and realizing how deeply I meant it. I would never have thought that someone whose life was so different from mine, and whom I had met only in recent days, could so thoroughly have worked her way into my heart.

  “Your maid, surely you mean,” said Liesl.

  “N
o, she is no more a maid than I am a lady. I beg your pardon for deceiving you, but it was necessary.”

  “Perhaps your young cousin—if she is your cousin, or”—here the archduchess gave half a laugh—“even if she is not—would care for tea?” Her Highness turned to nod to Liesl, who rang the bell. “I give you permission to withdraw, Lady Alida.”

  I caught just the flip of Alida’s skirt before the door had quite closed behind her as she started to run off through the palace rooms.

  “Now, Kindlein,” the archduchess said, indicating that I should sit on the stool nearest her sofa, “I think I had better hear what you have to say about the matter. You assert that the Gypsy did not injure the councilor?”

  I tried to take my cue from Alida’s manner with her royal employer and soften down everything I told the archduchess. I was a little afraid to reveal all the sordid facts I had discovered in the week or so since my father had died. But the first thing that slipped out was that I was not, in fact, related to Alida and her brother. She didn’t flinch at that revelation, having guessed as much already, nor at my explanation of our connection, which meant revealing that I was the daughter of a humble violinist. I did not tell her about my role in abducting the general, deciding that it probably wasn’t a suitable story to share with the other maids of honor, who for all their high station and advantages seemed much younger than I was. As it was their eyes practically popped out of their heads by the time I described the scene in front of the magistrate that had passed earlier that day. And I know they were shocked to discover that Mirela was a Gypsy. But there was one fact I had to tell the archduchess.

  “In the cellar of my uncle’s house, when the guards were about to seize me and take Toby again, I fired a pistol at the councilor and wounded him. So you see, it is I, not Danior, who should have been on trial.” I couldn’t look into her eyes. I felt so unbearably wretched.

  “No magistrate would have found you guilty of anything but defending yourself, given all the facts,” Her Highness said. “I expect your uncle knew that, and also knew that he could falsely accuse a Gypsy and no one would doubt his word.”

  I’m not sure what I had expected her to say. I had half thought she’d summon the guards immediately and have me conveyed to prison. In my concern over the injustice of the accusation against Danior, I’d completely forgotten that I had fired the pistol to protect myself and my brother, and that it would be very difficult for Uncle Theobald to explain why his niece would have been in a position to have to defend herself in that manner. I sighed deeply. “Of course, you are right, Your Highness.”

  “Did it never occur to you to let the lady Alida’s brother and the other gentlemen pursue their course while you remained by your mother’s side as was your duty?” the archduchess asked, but not in an accusing or judging tone, just as someone who was genuinely curious about my actions.

  Mother, I thought. I would never tell her all that had transpired that night. If she ever discovered even half of what had happened to Toby and me since we last saw her, I feared for her health and the baby’s. “No, I am afraid I thought only of discovering the facts about my father’s murder, and helping Alida and Zoltán and my godfather as much as I was able.”

  “And you nearly got yourself killed in the process!” exclaimed Rebekah, immediately covering her mouth and coloring.

  “Lady Rebekah expresses my sentiments, perhaps not exactly as I would, but my sentiments nonetheless,” said the archduchess. “I expect your mother would be deeply distressed to hear about everything you have been through.”

  “I know I should have been more careful, but I could not have done any differently. Mama will soon have a baby, you know, and was powerless to take any action herself, and I was afraid if I just let everything be, I would never know, and Papa’s death would not be vindicated.” The more I tried to justify my actions, the less justification there seemed to be. So I was very relieved when I heard the sound of several pairs of feet approaching the door.

  A moment later the footman opened it to admit Alida, Zoltán, and General Steinhammer. I couldn’t help gazing at Zoltán. He was unharmed, and looked more handsome and sure than ever. At first he didn’t look at me, but when he did, I saw him smile. I looked down quickly, feeling myself blush. Then I noticed that behind the group of men stood Mirela, no longer wearing her false maid’s clothes, but brightly clad in a swirling red skirt with black lace trim, a homespun blouse, and a shawl tied over one shoulder that had been pieced together from small bits of gorgeous silks and velvets. Alida and Mirela curtsied and the men bowed deeply. The general was no longer bound and had on a clean uniform, with all his military decorations polished and in order. I wondered where they could have been keeping him that would have made it possible for him to appear so quickly—and in such a clean state. I suspected that he had been tucked away in some remote corner of the Hofburg itself.

  “What have you to say, General?” the archduchess asked.

  He opened his mouth to speak before he actually noticed me. I cleared my throat and his eyes flicked in my direction. He paused in confusion before proceeding. “It’s not what it appears, Gracious Madame,” he said, a nervous smile spreading across his face. The hand he lifted to wipe his brow was trembling. “You see, Councilor Wolkenstein told me she was a lady of the night.”

  I wasn’t sure which of us was more surprised by what he said. We all stared at him in shock.

  “I see now that my actions toward this young girl were despicable. I did not know she had the protection of your good self, thinking only that she was the poor orphan of a musician who had decided to advance herself using her only talent—admittedly a considerable one. I humbly beg your pardon for my mistake. But forgive me if I am somewhat relieved! I thought perhaps Your Highness had taken leave of her senses to give even a moment’s thought to a band of outlaw Gypsies and serfs who are the rightful property of their noble masters.”

  I watched for a reaction in the face of the archduchess. She was so practiced in betraying nothing by her demeanor that the general could have been telling her about a tea party. But a vein in her neck began to throb. I judged that she was becoming angry. When she spoke, her voice had a sharp edge to it. “For how long, General, has Councilor Wolkenstein been procuring for you?”

  “Well, I, I...”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. I wanted to exclaim aloud, to leap around for joy. The general, with his assumption that only his actions toward someone acquainted with the archduchess could be of concern to her, had turned her completely against him and made our point quite well.

  “And what, pray, have you to say about Councilor Wolkenstein’s practice of abducting young boys to serve as forced labor on Hungarian estates?”

  “Or the fact that he sends the imperial guards out to attack an innocent camp of Gypsies who have done no one any harm!” The violence of Mirela’s outburst startled me.

  “I... I...”

  The general had completely lost the power of speech.

  The archduchess spoke in the same icy tone she had used throughout the interview. “I think, General, that you had better cooperate with these people or you may find yourself with more than your dignity wounded.”

  Words started to gush out of the general’s mouth. He practically tripped over his own tongue in his haste to distance himself from my uncle’s activities. As it became clear that he was willing to betray my uncle to save his own reputation, I stopped listening to what he said and let myself watch Zoltán. He, too, had changed into more respectable clothes. His blond hair was secured at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon. He stood tall and proud—perhaps even a little taller and prouder than usual. He did not look at me again, but his smile when he saw me at first told me more than I dared hope for. I longed to talk to him again about nothing—no, not about nothing; about music. Once this nightmare ended, we would be able to meet at my godfather’s house, perhaps. And perhaps I might be allowed to sit among the musicians again, during a rehear
sal, and share their music-making. It was not so much to ask.

  I let out an involuntary sigh during a lull in the general’s groveling confession. Everyone looked at me. “I was thinking of my godfather, and the difficulty with his eyes,” I said, trying quickly to come up with some excuse for letting my mind wander so far from the important matters being discussed in that elegant reception room in the Hofburg. “I think the musician Schnabl has been working for my uncle.” I told them about seeing the old man in several places, too often for it to be mere coincidence, and about his approach to me after the trial.

  “He must have discovered what Kappellmeister Haydn intended to do with the money from the contract with Artaria,” Zoltán said. “He has been jealous of Haydn for a long time. He felt he should have been given the position of Kapellmeister. Though I would wager he did not know the full extent of the deeds he had become entangled in.”

  When everything that Alida and I had revealed was confirmed by the general and Zoltán, the archduchess sat in silence for a short while.

  “It is time to dress for dinner,” she suddenly said, standing so that everyone else had to stand as well. “I believe that Councilor Wolkenstein must be approached with some caution. If he suspects he is about to be apprehended, he may disappear. It seems that he has powerful allies. I shall speak with my brother this evening. I cannot make any promises. Alida, you should prepare yourself for the worst.”

  What was she saying? Even after all this, might Danior still die? I looked from Alida to Zoltán and back again. This time I decided I had to heed her warning glance, especially now that the general was in the room.

  “General, perhaps you would lead me in to dinner later? Fräulein Schurman and her friend—Mirela, is it?—may remain with you, Lady Liesl and Lady Rebekah. I give you permission, Lady Alida, to pass the evening in whatever manner you wish.”

  The general and the archduchess departed arm-in-arm like old friends. From thinking that we were close to victory and saving Danior’s life, I found myself back in the depths of despair. Had all my efforts been for nothing?