Leading Lady (13 page)

‘Suppose she's not?'

‘I'll suppose no such thing.'

After a fruitful evening in Lissenberg, Doctor Joseph dropped in to the rehearsal at the opera house next morning, his monk's habit, as always, his passport. He arrived to a buzz of excitement. Cristabel and Fylde were alone on stage, Franzosi haranguing them. The chorus members, sitting in the front rows, were alive as if with electricity. ‘What's happened?' Joseph whispered to the man next to him. ‘What's going on?'

‘It's the diva! Our heroine, Adriana. Wait till you hear her! She's herself again, or nearly. If only the opera was better! And she's showing up Fylde as the old ham he is. I wonder how he likes that. Hush!'

Cristabel was on the upper stage now, supposedly looking out of her bedroom window, summoning the wrong twin, the man she thought to be her husband to come in to her: ‘Where have you been, my darling, this long day?' The music was trite enough, but she was putting such passion into it that Joseph whispered: ‘It might be Gluck or Handel.'

‘Franzosi's in a dream of glory.' The man recognised him. ‘You're the doctor, aren't you? We all owe you a great debt. I thought – We were all afraid we had a disaster on our hands. Can she keep it up, do you think?'

‘I don't see why not.' He was wondering whether to call at the palace, decided to let the good news find its own way there. Besides, he thought he might indulge himself in a moment with her. Extraordinary to have one's whole life reorient itself in one ten-minute interview – in one minute. As to what would come of it? Time enough for that.

‘I'm not surprised you look so happy, you deserve to.' The chorus member had risen to his feet at a summons from Franzosi.

‘Do me a kindness, friend?'

‘Gladly.'

‘Tell her I'm here and would like to congratulate her. When she can.'

‘Delighted, I'm sure.'

He saw the message given and received, saw the quick movement of her head as she searched the darkened house for him, waited with hard patience as Franzosi tried to coach Fylde into the comedy of his scene of misunderstanding with her. Since he played both her husband and his twin, there was no question about the likeness that betrayed her into mistaking a complete stranger for her husband. It should have been exquisitely comic, failed hopelessly because of Fylde's inept acting. In the end, Franzosi let out an almost audible sigh and changed his tack. Fascinated, Joseph watched as he let Fylde have his head, betray himself for the boor he was. If it was not the interpretation of his opera Franzosi had intended, it might still be a brilliantly successful one. At Fylde's expense.

‘I do thank you.' She was there at his side, and he had actually not felt her come.

‘I congratulate
you
.' He reached out, took her hand, felt yesterday's amazing message renew itself.

‘I sang it for you,' she said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. ‘And then you were there.'

‘I hope I shall always be there.'

‘But how? What are we going to do?'

‘Nothing, until after next week's performance.' He had pulled her gently down to sit beside him, and the nearness was intoxicating. ‘Trust me?'

‘I do. It's mad.' Were they both remembering that she had trusted Fylde?

‘Do, just the same. You can. To the end of the world, and you know it. As I do you. He's leaving you alone?' He had to ask it. And then: ‘You're trembling!'

‘With laughter. I'm ashamed, though. Have you seen the seconda donna's face this morning? Torn between triumph and tears. Franzosi had asked her to be ready to take my place. Oh, nobody told me, but I knew. And quite right too,' she went on. ‘I know that. Poor thing. She should have been learning her words last night. Instead –' she paused for a moment, ‘Desmond made me a great matrimonial scene of
renunciation after you left. Your doing, and I thank you. My career must come first … My debt to the world … Tell me, how could I have been such a fool? Have you seen what he is letting Franzosi do to him?'

‘Yes. What are you going to do about it?'

‘Nothing. What can I? I owe him nothing.'

‘Less than nothing. So, he spent the night with the seconda donna.' He said it for her.

‘I should be furious.'

‘And you're relieved. Good. As your doctor, I can only congratulate you. You will send for me if you find you need my services again.' His tone warned her, and she turned to see her husband at her side.

‘I've been thanking Doctor Joseph,' she told
him.

‘So must we all.'

On Franz's suggestion, Prince Gustav had gone himself to bring his family to the anniversary celebration, and Martha was busy arranging the most remote of the palace's guest wings for their reception. Tension crackled in the air. There had been no news from the outside world for some time, but reports from the opera house were increasingly cheering. Cristabel was singing better than ever, everyone said, more than making up for Fylde's shortcomings. Martha longed to thank Doctor Joseph for the part she was sure he had played in Cristabel's recovery but when she invited him to the palace, to discuss this and her suggestion that he become their doctor, he sent a civil refusal, explaining that he felt he should stay with Prince Maximilian until after the anniversary performance. Max must be getting restive.

When she told Franz about this, in one of their rare moments alone, he laughed. ‘What a bold little doctor,' he said. ‘To refuse a princess. There's something about that man,' he went on thoughtfully. ‘I wish I knew what it was. Lord, I'll be glad when this celebration is over.'

‘And winter comes,' she said. ‘And the quiet.' It was a kind of promise between them.

It had been Franz's decision that the celebration of the first anniversary of his reign should be a quiet, domestic one and
Martha had wondered, from time to time, whether he had been right. A leaven of outsiders might have eased what promised to be an awkward enough occasion. And now Prince Gustav had stipulated that the Countess Bemberg be recognised as his wife, Princess Gertrude, and there had seemed nothing for it but to agree. ‘I doubt the Lissenbergers will like it much,' Martha told Franz.

‘I don't pretend to know what they like or don't like any more. Something's going on, I don't know what.' He looked increasingly hag-ridden, she thought. ‘I seem to be out of touch since I got back. Madness to stay away so long, but how could I help it?'

‘You can hardly announce now that Napoleon was keeping you against your will.'

‘No, that would be to negate all the trouble we have taken not to make a diplomatic issue of it. But I tell you, I like the feel of things less and less. What does Ishmael Brodski say?'

‘He's worried too. He's not coming to the performance, says he thinks it's a time for him to lie low. But Frau Schmidt is coming, bless her.'

‘I should hope so too,' he said. ‘She's my family. She and you.' He was standing at the window. ‘Lord, here comes Gustav, and in some style! Hurry, love, we must receive them with all the formality we can manage.'

‘I'll do my best.' She joined him to look down the hill at the approaching cavalcade. ‘Goodness! I see what you mean about style! Regal is hardly the word! And what a throng of followers.' A cold prickle travelled down her spine. ‘Are we doing the right thing, do you think? Has he outplayed us, your father?'

‘I won't believe the Lissenbergers are so fickle.' He smiled at her lovingly. ‘You look just right!'

She had thought a good deal about what to wear, and was pleased with the dark heavy silk that made a good background for the ceremonial necklace she now clasped around her throat with hands that shook just a little. ‘I'm glad you think so.'

‘For the first time, I wonder if I should have yielded to Baron Hal's persuasions and rigged myself out in knee breeches.' He glanced ruefully at his own informal dress. ‘Flying in the face of everything I stand for. What do you think love?'

‘I don't know,' she said. ‘I just don't know. It's too late, anyway.'

‘Easier for a woman.' He took her arm. ‘I begin to understand why Napoleon put his court into full dress. A touch of pomp and circumstance might help at this point.'

‘Ridiculous,' she said. ‘Think of last year. How they shouted you into power.'

‘That was last year. Ah, Baron Hals. Is it time to form the reception committee?'

‘Yes, sir. And madam.' He looked anxious, suddenly old. ‘The prince has brought more people than we expected, sir.'

‘I noticed that. You will see that they are suitably housed.'

‘In the palace, highness?'

‘What do you think?' he asked Martha.

‘Better here, under our eye. And maybe double the guard?'

‘I don't like it,' said Franz.

‘No more do I.' Smiling at him. ‘But that's hardly the point, is it?'

Assiduously shepherded by Baron Hals, they joined the little group already assembled in the great hall of the palace, part of the original Gothic castle on which Prince Gustav had embroidered his baroque flourishes. Despite the enormous gilded stoves in the corners of the room, the air here struck chill as always, and Martha shivered a little as she took her place beside her husband in the centre of the little group formally arranged on the dais.

A fanfare of trumpets outside. ‘He does come in style,' said Franz. ‘He's even brought his own music.'

‘I wonder what he has found out about Max. If anything.' They had decided that Max should be in the palace, ready to make his appearance when the moment seemed ripe.

‘Nothing, I hope. Here they come.' He stiffened beside her as the big doors swung open on the last notes of the trumpets and Prince Gustav strode into the hall, the Countess of Bemberg-Princess Gertrude – at his side.

‘Well,' breathed Martha. If it was not actually cloth of gold that the new princess was wearing, it certainly looked like it. ‘What on earth will she wear for the performance tomorrow?' But Franz was taking the one statutory step forward to greet their guests, and she moved automatically beside him, aware
of the new princess's critical eye sweeping her own dark, restrained elegance.

The first formal greetings over: ‘But where is the little boy?' asked Martha.

‘Such a disappointment.' Princess Gertrude had hardly spoken so far, now burst into eloquence. ‘The poor baby! Not a bit well this morning. A touch of the croup. Of course I can hardly expect you to understand a mother's anxieties, highness, but I could not possibly think of bringing him out in this chilly autumn weather. My lord and master was quite angry with me, I can tell you, but, no, I said to him, home is the only place for a sick child, and I know Princess Martha will understand a mother's solicitude for her ewe lamb.'

‘And the girls?' said Martha. ‘You thought they should stay at home to keep their little brother company?'

‘A woman's place is at home.' Prince Gustav had been carrying out a lingering survey of the great hall, as if to see what changes his successor had made. ‘Or at her husband's side, of course.' His bland smile was impartially for both Martha and his wife. Then it travelled among the formally clad group waiting to greet him. ‘I am glad to see that I am not the only old fogey in full dress. But where is our truant? Where is my son Max? We have a scolding for him, my wife and I, but this is hardly the time or place.'

‘No,' agreed Franz, his teeth gritted. ‘We have things to discuss, sir, you and I.'

‘And the sooner the better. Shall we adjourn to my – I beg your pardon, dear boy, to your study?' He swept the little group with an overlord's glance. ‘I can't tell you how good it is, my friends, to see so many familiar faces, but I am sure you will understand that my son and I have serious matters to discuss. And the ladies, of course, will have all kinds of things to settle about the celebration tomorrow. Just a family kind of affair I believe you have planned, but even family affairs must be conducted with a little decorum, a little ceremony. I am sure you will find Princess Gertrude an immense help to you, dear child.' It was the first time he had addressed Martha directly.

He's too clever for us, she thought angrily, as she found herself somehow involved with Princess Gertrude while the two
men moved away towards Franz's study. Had she been a fool to take it for granted that she would share in their discussions? No time to think about it now, with Princess Gertrude claiming her attention, woman to woman. There was nothing she could do, short of impossibly bad manners, but see her civilly to her rooms. But deep down, she was furious with herself for not foreseeing this, and with Franz for letting it happen. And, below that still, she knew that she was very much afraid.

But Franz, when they met at last in the privacy of their bedroom, was both exhausted and triumphant. ‘I really think it is going to work,' he told her. ‘Oh – he's admitting nothing. He greeted Max as calm as you please, scolded him for rudely running home from his new stepmother's house. Hals was there. As he has never heard what really happened, he naturally accepted Gustav's version. It will be all over the palace tomorrow.'

‘He's too clever for us,' she said it now.

‘Too clever for me, you mean?' Ruefully. ‘I'm sorry, my darling, I meant you to be there when we talked, but what could I do?'

‘Apparently, nothing. I'm glad that at least Max was.'

‘Oh, yes, but do you know, I am afraid he is still a little in awe of our father.'

‘Not surprising, really.' Dryly. ‘Considering how he has outmanoeuvred you both.'

‘But that's the whole point,' he said eagerly. ‘That's what I am trying to tell you.'

‘If I would only listen?'