Nightingale (11 page)

Perhaps even here, with this beautiful dark-haired stranger….

"It is not you, Akos Almassy, but myself I fear." This was, after all, the truth, the terrible thing that Max had taught. For a moment he lingered, hand upon the latch, gazing at her with sorrow and longing.

"This is another sickness that we shall have to cure, my lady."

Then, leaving her shivering with desire, pondering his words, he bowed and left her.

***

Advice from Signor Manzoli came, just as Akos said it would.

"Allow the cold to pass," he'd written, "and do not sing, not even a scale. When your physician says you have passed the infectious stage, send, and I will come to see you myself."

Klara also had a letter from her patron which had initially brought a sigh of relief. Max said that he thought he would stay where he was for now, although he hoped to arrive in Vienna for the last week of Carnival.

"As for the Empress," he'd written, "I believe that having quelled this last insurrection, I may be rewarded with some span of time in which to tend to my own affairs. I hope to remain near Vienna in the Josephplatz house right into summer. Knowing how you love that simple country place, I thought we could spend some time together. I am, I confess, looking forward to escaping the formality of Vienna and the strictures of the Court and celebrating a long reunion in the arms of my darling little Nightingale."

Klara's initial relief had quickly turned to a shudder.

"Oh, may the Holy Blessed Mother, protect me!" She showed Akos the letter. "I could never bear to have him touch me again! Never!"

"And he will not, Klara. Don't be afraid."

"Oh, but what to do? If I leave him, how shall I live? He will banish me from the Court, perhaps even try to harm me! And, oh, Akos, as wicked and selfish as it sounds – I must sing!"

"Of course you must go on singing. It would be a crime against the gift with which God has honored you, and it would be a sin for anyone to ask for such a sacrifice. I will appeal to my Prince for help."

"But Prince Vehnsky, I have heard, is hard against servants who dare to leave their masters. Isn't that true?"

"Yes, sometimes, but there have been some notable occasions upon which he has shown himself to be flexible, even when it goes against his aristocrat's pride. I must find a way to touch his heart."

"I must confess that I'm not very brave, not like a few years ago when I imagined I was and that I could dare to leave Vienna. And I live in fear that something will happen to you. All I can seem to think of are ways things might go wrong, ways we might lose each other."

"Hush!" Akos caressed her cheek. "Keep faith with Love, dear Nightingale, and it will make you strong. We will find a way."

Another week passed. Akos came to attend Klara daily, to bring her medicines, to massage. Liese or the Messer often attended, but circumstances were usually such that at least once a visit they would be alone for a brief time. Then she would open her arms and he would come into them; they would share a few passionate kisses.

"Oh, how I was wanting to hold you!"

"Yes, angel, your lovely eyes called me."

Klara felt no reluctance. This was the best love ever. In his worshipful, careful touch, in his mouth, too, was the taste of righteousness. Unhesitating, she parted her lips. Klara was familiar with a male habit, once love
-making had begun, to want to taste not only her mouth, but every inch of her sweet body.

With only a few gentlemanly exceptions, the Count had taught her all the sensual pleasures that could be given short of the act itself. Now, after a few minutes of kissing Akos, of that searching, liquid intimacy, Klara burned to yield. In imagination, she lay back upon the divan, naked, ready to submit to what she knew would be a long and passionate exploration. Klara took Almassy's beautiful hand in hers
– that hand that held the bow, that touched the keys, with such mastery – and pressed it against one hard-budded breast. Fired by her urgency, he caressed through the gown. A moment later, his deft fingers had opened a button, had made their way to the fine muslin of her shift, to the swelling beneath. Oh, how much more they wanted! Her nipples rose, straining at the thin barrier. Gently, he tugged the aching points, all the while sipping her lips, inhaling her fragrance, breathing love words which wove about the melody of her name.

The ecstatic minuet of their stolen moments could not last. Heavy feet would come clumping, either Liese's clogs or the boots of Messer. Panting and aching they'd move apart, straighten their clothing and hope flushed faces would not give them away.

Chapter 5

"It's the Adambergers, Fraulein," said Liese. "May they come in?”

She had barely got the words out when the door to the parlor burst open. Into came trooping a burly, great bellied man with a villain's black beard and a short, round and rather disheveled woman.

The Adambergers were also singers, some years older than Klara. Florian's talent paid their bills, for Olympia's voice had never been exceptional, although for a time, her acting, or perhaps it had been her heart-shaped ingenuous face and sprightly, spontaneous personality, had brought her some Viennese success. Too many babies in quick succession had ended her career.

Florian was a deep bass baritone who usually played the part of villains. He had been Klara's nemesis in two of the first operas in which she had sung a leading role. Shy among the sophisticated singers of the Court, Klara had been particularly glad for Florian's kindness.

Count Oettingen hadn't interfered in her relationship with the older couple. In fact, he approved, recognizing that it was natural and desirable for Klara to attach herself to an experienced singer who knew his way through Court theater politics. That the Adambergers were not only older but very married made them eminently suitable for friends.

"
Vogelchen
!" Olympia rushed to give Klara a kiss. "Are you well? How is your voice? "

"Better, thanks to his kind and clever gentleman," said Klara. Smiling happily at Akos, she began an introduction. "Herr Florian and Frau Olympia Adamberger, please meet my new friend, Concertmaster Akos Almassy. Herr Almassy is in service with Prince Vehnsky."

"Where he performs music as well as healing," rumbled Florian in his rich deep voice. "Sir, I listened with vast approval while you handled both cembalo and violin last year at the Musician's Charity concert."

"I am honored that you remember such a trifle, Herr Adamberger. In return, I must say that memory of the Death you sang last year in Alceste still gives me a chill."

After the exchange of compliments, the gentlemen bowed again. Adamberger had had a long career in Vienna, riding Dame Fortune’s wheel. When Olympia had lost her voice after a difficult childbirth, the couple had shared the pain and financial privation. Fortunately for them and their ever growing family, not only had Florian's voice steadily improved, but appreciation for it continued to grow. It was now widely agreed among Vienna's connoisseurs that the last two seasons had been among Herr Adamberger's finest.

Florian had always been a good actor, too. In Olympia's h
eyday, when they'd married, he'd actually been doing more acting than singing. These days, his portrayals of evil, those swaggering, basso villains, profited from his acting. Olympia, resigned to her fate, said she had too many children to even think about the stage anymore. And why should she spend her life fighting with those dreadful Italian donnas for scraps?

"We're sorry we only sent a note earlier,
Liebchen
, but you know how careful Florian must be."

"Oh, indeed!" Klara said. "Please don't come anywhere near me, Florian. I would be devastated if you caught anything."

"You will think me an awful coward, but I believe I will salute you from here, little one," Florian replied, blowing a kiss across the room.

"Where are Amelia and Georgi?"

"Oh, we left them at home. All you need is children running all over the place. Liese looks out of temper as it is."

"We left Ute and Adolfus to mind them. God knows what we will find when we get back."

The Adambergers’ elderly servants had been with Florian since his childhood. Tales of their indulgence to the whims of the children were well-known. On one spectacular occasion Florian and Olympia had returned home to find both white-haired servants tied to chairs, surrounded by ‘wild Indians’. Once they had captured their caretakers, the young Adambergers had bounced upon a bed until the frame collapsed, and then popped pillows by using them for pitched battles. The apartment had been ankle deep in feathers. Not only that, but the children had capped their misdeeds by devouring an entire torte which the baker had just brought up that morning. While Olympia wept and apologized as she untied the servants, Florian had wreaked vengeance upon them all with the palm of his hand.

"Is Adele at home? She'll keep them in order." This was the oldest girl, now sixteen. She was tall, handsome and very responsible. Klara took a special interest in Adele because she too studied with Signor Manzoli.

"Unfortunately not, but the reason why we’re here is the most wonderful news! Adele’s got a part at the Court Theater, a trouser role in Kapellmeister Salieri's new opera. Signorina Bibiena fell sick last night. Perhaps with the same catarrh you've had. She opened her mouth in the first act and only screeches came out."

"Not that much different than the usual
," Florian chuckled.

“We hear that Signorina Bibiena sent to the Court apothecary and is in her bed. We're just hoping that Adele will have three weeks in order to make her mark. Why, we've just come from lighting candles at the Lady Chapel at Saint Stephen's."

"Not, I gather, for Signorina Bibiena's recovery?" Herr Almassy smiled at her.

"Ah, sir," Olympia replied, "I fear you misjudge us. Of course we asked
the Blessed Mother to allow the Signorina to regain her voice – but only much later this year."

"Well, it's only fair," Florian said, "for we've exchanged far too many Italian singers for Germans over this winter. Signorina Bibiena's indisposition is a small attempt at balancing the scales. Klara, dear, do you think they'll give you back your Alceste?"

"No. I've relinquished the role to Signorina Amelli. It seemed the only thing to do, especially the first few days when I was so horribly ill."

"Of course you'd be conscientious, my dear, but when the day comes one of them is as reasonable, the Second Coming may be in view."

"And what is the verdict of this able Herr Doctor?" Florian nodded at Akos.

"Fraulein Silber should be able to exercise her voice in a few days. At that time, Signor Manzoli will give us his opinion, but I believe she will be able to sing before Carnival is done,"

"Yes, thank Heavan!" Klara was fervent. "I would be miserable to the core to lose this season entirely."

"We all have a lot to thank you for, Concertmaster Almassy, if you have preserved Klara's voice and can bring her so quickly back to our stage. I have always believed my wife's career was ended by the advice of a poor doctor."

"They bled you, Frau Adamberger?"

"Among other things. I shall never permit it again, no matter how much the quacks chatter about adjusting the humors."

"My grandfather rarely used blood-letting in his cures. Perhaps that is why his title remains 'Gardener’."

Everyone laughed. Klara said, "Herr Almassy has been such a support." Her enthusiasm was followed by a flush. "He has been playing to me, too. It is just so lovely to have good music when I can't go the theater or make any for myself."

Liese brought in coffee and a plate of sugar-dusted lemon cakes and they settled to chat in the cosy parlor. The stove in the corner creaked, sending a wonderful deep heat. The Adambergers brought gossip from the Court, too, about the quarrels that the Crown Prince was having with his mother, the aged Empress, over matters of policy, particularly the conflict in Silesia, where Oettingen had been so long detained.

Klara and Akos sat side by side on the sofa. Sometimes their hands, childlike, found their way together. They had to remember to move apart, remind themselves that they were not alone, especially when Olympia's bright eyes seemed to be noticing.

She spent some time asking Akos questions about Prague, his nearest big city. She had apparently visited there during her ingénue days and enjoyed it very much. While she did talked and Akos answered, Adamberger drank his tea, taking small, cautious sips, which made the delicate cup even more preposterous in his large, well-cared for hands. Klara was aware that her friends were studying Almassy closely.

After an hour which passed all to
o quickly for the company-starved Klara, Florian drew out a large, heavily jeweled pocket watch.

“For once, I believe it is actually running! Wonderful convenient things, watches, when they are not in need of repair.”

“A beautiful piece of work, Herr Adamberger.”

“Oh, he’s so naughty!” Olympia patted her husband’s arm. “He’s showing off his present from Baron von Schlegal.”