Lost love Historical romance

by Adele B.

  But Livia was in a hurry now, she was already heading for the carriage and there was nothing left for him but to follow her. They both ran through the thickening blizzard towards the sumptuous coach waiting outside.

  The town streets were absolutely quiet, just the almost-inaudible sound of falling snow softly purring in the moonlight.

  Its white veil had covered all tracks, and the city was fascinatingly pure, silvery and peaceful in the light of the moon. Livia was looking out the window and an intense happiness overwhelmed her at the thought that on such a perfect night she was going to meet Edward again. She felt so strong and so satisfied now, that she could have stood up even to Petros, if need be. She had awakened to a new life and now she just wanted to live a little, even if the price for this would be her own life.

  A lot of elegant carriages were waiting in front of the Mayor’s office and on the adjoining streets. Horses were nervously snorting and shaking their heads to avoid the snow; the coachmen drank warm wine and exchanged gossip while stamping their feet for warmth; some were putting blankets on the horses’ backs, to protect them from the bitter cold.

  They entered the cool, deserted hallway and hurriedly ascended stairs which creaked under Petros’s heavy steps; they then crossed a long hall bordered by open doors. Through them one could see long tables, surrounded by massive wooden chairs - imposing, severe furniture befitting those important people who, during the day, took part in city meetings and councils.

  They crossed the hall, from whose far end an elegant staircase, adorned with marble steps and wooden banisters, was descending sinuously towards the ballroom. It seemed to be intentionally designed so that ladies young and old could descend it slowly and majestically, in all the glory and elegance of their ball clothes.

  As she was walking down these same steps, Livia was admiring the beauty of the ballroom, revealed to her piece by piece. Its German-style elegance, amply and richly decorated, was complimented by the large glass windows through which one could see the park’s snow-covered trees shivering in the moonlight.

  A melancholy waltz, mistletoe aroma, women's laughter, the clinking of crystal glasses, intimate candlelight accenting the delicacy of the paintings adorning the walls; all these bewitched and enchanted her. She hesitated for a moment, and now all eyes turned towards her while she was descending the stairs; but Petros took her arm; to give her courage, he drew her nearer; a gesture which made her hurry determinedly onwards.

  All the guests were already there. The cream of Sibiu society; bankers, Austrian army officers, merchants, teachers, land owners and factory owners.

  Mothers accompanied by their marriageable daughters, young eligible men freshly arrived from their studies in France or Austria, respectable fathers talking about business and engagements in shady corners.

  Everyone was now looking towards the staircase which Livia was descending, shy and embarrassed but with her head held high.

  Old people, bound together by friendship or business ties, had known each other for a lifetime; the young people had been school colleagues either in Sibiu or abroad; everybody knew everybody else, even if only by hearsay.

  But no one had seen Livia, until now. The presence of this enchanting and unknown young lady was greeted with astonishment and admiration. She looked like a precious and delicate flower in the midst of winter, as she came sinuously down the stairs, fresh and light, with her exquisite white shoulders encased in diaphanous black lace.

  Livia saw the admiration written on everyone’s face and she was satisfied. She needed that confirmation of her beauty, on this evening more than on any other.

  She intensely desired the encounter with Edward, tonight; but she also feared it, not knowing if his feelings towards her would still be as strong as they had been the past summer, before they had said goodbye. She was hoping that as soon as he saw her, her beauty would reawaken his love.

  While Petros was introducing her to his friends, proud and possessive, she saw him. He was standing, alone, next to the fireplace, and he was looking at her. And, God, how he was looking...

  Livia both blessed and cursed that moment. It was the moment she had waited for, the moment in which she would be near him again, but this nearness was becoming so painful now. She had to pretend not to know him, when what she would have wanted to do was to jump into his arms. A shiver ran through her; his arms were so near, but they could not hold her; his hair was so near, but she could not caress it; they both had to play a complex game, such a change from the simplicity and sincerity of the love they had known in the secret meadow, last summer.

  Their eyes met, for a long time and yet not enough; desperately Livia understood the same thoughts racing through her brain were filling his mind too.

  The music had started to play again, couples were turning dizzily in head-spinning waltzes. Many young men invited her to dance, and as she was slowly floating on delicate music, covered her with compliments - which she accepted smiling, while her eyes were searching the dance hall for a glimpse of Edward.

  From his corner, he was observing her; seeing her glide effortlessly on the dance floor, tiptoeing in her elegant shoes, eyes happily shining even though her mouth sported a special, almost sad smile.

  As a painter he was used to studying people, nature and objects with attentive eyes, trying to capture their essence and transpose it on the canvas. He had noticed that very few people were perfect – with the exception of children, who had that God-given gift of inspiring tenderness and eliciting enchantment with their delicate small faces.

  He had seen women with lithe, curvaceous bodies whose harmony had been spoiled by aquiline noses or too-small eyes. Women with perfect faces, but too small in stature, giving the unpleasant impression of being prematurely developed and growth-arrested little girls. Women whose breasts were too large or too small, whose waists were too thick or whose hands were too coarse; he had also seen women of perfect beauty but with eyes colder than the iciest winter, with pursed thin lips, with nervously trembling hands or grating voices which spoiled all their good looks.

  But gazing upon Livia he forgot all about this. He felt more in love than ever, she was as close to his ideal of beauty as one can realistically find here on Earth. With night-coloured silky waves of hair, green eyes whose sparkle put the emeralds adorning her white neck to shame, she was a ravishing sight to behold; he wondered what would have been the price for having such a jewel of a woman. For Petros was prowling round her like a bulldog guarding a most-coveted treasure.

  Edward headed towards Livia, opening a path through the couples, now separating after the dance’s embrace. A melody had ended and another one was just about to begin. He stopped before her and with a short bow asked for the honour of the next dance.

  She suddenly saw him in front of her, with his charming smile, biting his lower lip in an almost imperceptible way as he tried to hide his emotions.

  Livia forced herself not to betray any of the feelings now swirling over her in a whirlwind; she felt in the middle of the sweetest of dreams. Everything was so unreal, him and her here, in the midst of all these unknown people, surrounded by the divine music. Him and her.

  She could hardly understand what plans Destiny had for her now, what her role was to be in this whole story. She wanted nothing more than to be able to enjoy once more the deep blue hue of his gaze, the gentle pressure of his arms around her, the ecstatic sway of the dance. She was more in love than ever.

  All those months in which she had tried to chase him far away from her thoughts - they had been like a limbo for her. She had lived trying to deny her love for him, to erase his memory from her mind; but she knew now she was more in love with him than ever, and every minute she had lived far from him, in all these months of separation, had just been a waiting.

  The music stopped, and another dance began; still they danced wordlessly, trying to assess each other’s bodily reactions. He could feel her delicate hand shakily resting in his, the scent of her hai
r and the pressure of her bosom heaving next to his chest. His other hand, slithering under her rich mane of hair, resting now on her delicate back.

  The music seemed to stop far too quickly, and the dance was over in no time at all and now she saw Petros standing woodenly in front of her, determined to have one dance before anyone else could make an invitation. Livia drew back from Edward’s arms without any backward glance. Petros’s gaze had unsettled her; she hoped she hadn’t betrayed herself; she had never been such a good actress.

  “May I have the honour of this dance?” he asked, smiling. He was so proud, seeing everyone’s open admiration of his wife. From now on he was going to be the only one to dance with her, he would not let her go - not for a second.

  He would show everyone that she belonged to him, he would prove to the whole assembly that all those nasty whispers about their failed marriage were just idle gossip and nothing else.

  “Certainly” answered Livia. The smile gone from her lips, she became again a serious and dignified person. The dream had ended, Petros had abruptly brought her back to earth. She had deliberately avoided him all evening, hastily accepting anyone’s invitation just to avoid having to dance with her husband. She wanted to keep the distance, that distance she had won by her ice-cold attitude in the last few weeks. She had no desire to feel his body heat next to her, she did not want him getting near her, holding her tight in the dance’s embrace; but she also knew she had no way of denying him this. She felt her hand crushed by his large paw, he was panting with the effort; he had become hefty again- he had shed some weight while on his trips, but once returned home he had quickly put it all back.

  “If you don’t mind, I would like to go home. I don’t feel so well. I ‘m not used to festivities of this kind” Livia said now. She sensed his desire to keep her close for the rest of the evening; knowing it would be more than she could endure, she decided to leave the ball.

  “But the party has just started, Livia - please stay a little more” he answered, disappointed.

  “Everyone here speaks either Hungarian or German, I feel lost amongst all these foreigners, and I don’t even know anyone” she tried to be convincing.

  “It’s just your fault, you always refused to know any of my friends! Had you accompanied me whenever I asked you to, you wouldn’t feel so lost amongst strangers now! I am the main organizer of this ball, so I have to be here until its end; but if you do not wish to stay, I cannot force you” he answered, irritation in his voice.

  “Please don’t mind me; I understand you are a host of this ball, so of course you have to stay” Livia retorted, not regretting his decision to remain; quite the contrary.

  “Wait, I’ll call the coach” Petros answered as he hurried out the door.

  Livia’s eyes were searching for Edward and she smiled sadly. It was pure torture for her to leave this hall where he remained; but it would have been even more painful, had she stayed, to pretend to be a happy wife enjoying the festivities with her happy husband.

  She thanked Petros for bringing her overcoat, and she headed for the entrance without anybody being unduly aware of her departure, as a lively mazurka had just started.

  Once outside, the cold air made her shiver. She handed Hans a bottle of warm mulled wine she had taken from the table especially for him. She felt happier, better, more generous, more in love than ever.

  After carefully going around the horse whose breath condensed in misty clouds in the cold air, she climbed into the coach and observed the ongoing party while the coachman was finishing his wine glass. The couples were still gliding across the floor to a waltz, and between them she could see the two men. One of them she would gladly renounce without hesitation, right now.

  Hans was unhurriedly sipping the warm wine Livia had brought him. He stood next to the horse, stroking it and talking slowly to it. He had long, twisted moustaches, a nose reddened both by the cold and the drink. He was a bachelor and kept telling the few friends he met - mainly at the pub - that he had never been able to understand women in his life. This was more of an explanation he offered to himself for the fact that he was still unmarried, and unable to find a warm womanly soul who would offer him affection. He would rather blame all women than acknowledge the fact that he was shy, silent, sour and vengeful. He believed it was all the fault of women; they were never able to see the qualities he possessed! But if he searched himself for these qualities, what he would discover would be yet another shortcoming. The latest addition to the list was miserliness. But lately, and more especially tonight, he had discovered one quality; compassion. Yes, he was really sorry for Livia, he felt compassion for her. He wished he could say now “I can’t understand men at all!” instead of his usual “ I can’t understand women at all!”

  Petros had been always a matter of complete indifference to him; he wasn’t impressed by his richness, he didn’t envy him for his life of leisure, or the women always circling his house. And there were a lot of women; he saw them whenever he would have to wait for hours in front of their houses, with the carriage always ready. Petros had as many women as he wished, so Hans really couldn’t understand why he had had to kidnap Livia, to trample all over her young soul. He could almost see her when, six months ago, he had helped Petros take her from the horse and push her into the carriage. Just a child, really - she had fainted. Only an evil person with an evil soul, such as Petros, could have done such an accursed thing.

  He jumped on the coach bench, warmed by the wine and the feelings of goodness flooding his heart, and he drove Livia home.

  # # #

  Near the warm fireplace the heat was now oppressive, but Edward was unmoving, enduring it all with fortitude. There was nowhere for him to go in the large banquet hall, there were groups of people everywhere but he would not be welcome in any of them as he didn’t know anyone. He had only attended the ball for Livia’s sake, and now that she had left he was trying to go too, without arousing any suspicions amongst the onlookers.

  He knew that, although he didn’t really know anybody, in reality everyone knew him, as he had taken the command of the Regiment just a few months ago.

  He had been invited to many mundane occasions, balls and parties - but he had politely declined them all. He would not have been able to attend to all these festivities as a happy, fulfilled, adventure-seeking young officer. Livia was the only reason he had returned to Transylvania, and when her mother had informed him that she had married and was happy, refusing to tell him in which city she was, he had felt lost in this suddenly-foreign Transylvania, as cold as the woman’s eyes. He had never believed, not for a second, that she could have married of her own free will, or that she was happy – but he felt he had now lost her forever. Just imagining her in another man’s house, sleeping in another man’s arms, made the blood rise to his cheeks and his fists clench in anger. He would have liked to return to Vienna, but it was too early to ask for another transfer, he could not overtax the Archduke’s good will. And his ex-comrades in arms would have received him with undisguised mockery. Everyone had warned him it was foolish to give up Vienna for a small dusty town on the outskirts of the Empire.

  But now that he had seen Livia again, he felt his Transylvanian story was far from over. She was more beautiful than ever and still in love with him, and this gave him power, he felt all was not lost, that Destiny had decided to give their love another chance.

  He had gazed upon Livia’s face continuously, the whole evening; her countenance made him feel sad. Her face was still sweet and delicate, but the melancholy eyes seemed to tell him she had spent a lot of time crying, and he felt guilty for not having been able to spare her all this suffering, which had turned her from an innocent girl into an ailing woman. He could imagine how difficult it must have been for her to live with that arrogant, self-important watchdog she was forced to call a husband.

  He looked out the window. Snow was falling again, and the fir trees in front of the Mayor’s Hall were heavy with its white veil unde
r the silvery frozen moonlight. It had been some time since Livia had left; he could go home too, without arousing any suspicions .

  While he was collecting his gloves from the windowsill he heard a young, unknown feminine voice uttering a few teasing words. Surprised, he turned around and saw that the woman had been addressing him.

  “The falling snow is beautiful, isn’t it?” the young woman said, as she was approaching the window.

  “My name is Corinne” she went on smiling, upon seeing him so surprised and devoid of words. She had observed him all evening, she had noticed the exchange of glances between him and Livia during the dancing, and she was having great fun now, enjoying his bewilderment.

  She had decided she wanted him and she was going to have him; she had almost fallen in love this evening. This seemed to happen more and more often, lately; she would fall in love on a whim, or perhaps just because she was feeling lonely; and she would choose men who obviously needed solace.

  As for this officer, one could see from afar he was in need of solace and consolation. Had Petros watched his wife more carefully, had he followed her eyes as they feverishly sought out Edward’s, he would have noticed the sadness and desperation in both their gazes.

  But it seemed that she had been the only one aware of the feelings shared by Livia and the young officer - nobody else in the large ballroom had noticed. Not surprising, she thought; they were just pathetic provincials, their minds locked in rigid patterns, doing what they had to do in order to avoid gossip; and they firmly believed everyone else respected the same rules. The thought that Petros’s wife would not abide by these same rules would never have crossed their minds. In this German city with severe morality the wife had to be scrupulously faithful to her husband, and so no one had noticed or questioned Livia’s good faith. But she, Corinne, was French, just arrived from Paris where she had lived her whole life until now; and she had seen her share of intrigue, so she was able to recognize the fleeting exchange between two pairs of guilty eyes.