The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren

by Hollingsworth, Suzette

  “You know, Esteban, she is much shorter in person. Too short, I should say. It is astonishing someone who is larger than life on the stage, is, in fact, petite.” A hellion in a small package.

  “Petite and quite shapely,” Esteban mused.

  “Extremely.”

  “Now that you have convinced yourself there is nothing you like about this woman—either her appearance or her personality—it should be quite easy to let her go.”

  Alejandro laughed out loud. It sounded bitter—almost mad—to his own ears. “Not at all. It isn’t that simple, Esteban.”

  I must see her privately. I need to see her. Alejandro’s thoughts tortured him, throbbing inside his head. How could he make her understand? Why didn't she believe his intentions were honorable?

  On that he could not fault her: he didn't believe it himself.

  But why am I in such disfavor with her? What could account for it? Surely she didn't prefer staid Englishmen who never expressed their desires honestly and had no feeling about anything. He had more passion in his little finger than they had in their whole bodies.

  “You interest me greatly, Alejandro,” Esteban considered.

  “It is reassuring that I interest someone,” Alejandro muttered.

  “I have never heard you speak thus.”

  Alejandro had hoped his former teacher wouldn't press him. Of all people, it was most difficult for the prince to keep a secret from Esteban.

  “It is her singing, Esteban. Something happened to me when she sang.” Alejandro blurted out, unable to contain himself no longer. He ran his fingers through his hair.

  “Something happened? What do you mean, Alejandro?” Esteban leaned towards him.

  “I relived a terrible memory. Only, this time it wasn't terrible.” There. He had said it.

  “Of what do you speak, Alejandro?”

  “Were you aware how unhappy I was when the king—my father—sent me away to school as a child?”

  “Of course, Alejandro,” Esteban’s voice was uneven. “I never saw a child so distraught and miserable, completely exaggerated by your family’s total absence of contact. They might have telephoned, written, or visited.”

  “My mother later told me my father decided it was best. He thought it would only make the separation worse if they kept in contact.”

  “It was very badly managed.”

  “I know it sounds ridiculous, Esteban, but when Senorita Nicolette sang, I relived it. My world crashed down around me. I was spinning, for lack of a better word.”

  “Santa Maria! Are you quite serious?” Esteban whispered, his eyes opening wide. “I agree the senorita is a genius at eliciting emotion, and you have always been responsive to music, but—”

  “Nothing to compare to when Nicolette is singing, Esteban.”

  “I cannot think this would be a pleasurable experience for you, my prince.”

  “Pleasurable?” Alejandro shook his head adamantly. “No. It could never be described thus.”

  Suspicion returned to Esteban’s expression. “Given this information, I am surprised you would wish to continue the acquaintance.”

  “The most unexpected thing happened. When Senorita Nicolette’s rendition was over, instead of wanting to die, instead of desperately longing to put a period to the terrible torture of my emotions, I felt lighter somehow.”

  Esteban stared as if he didn't believe what he was hearing, his eyes utterly intent upon the crown prince. Hesitantly he reached out to touch Alejandro's sleeve, as if not knowing whether to console or protect him.

  “I am changed, Esteban,” Alejandro stated calmly, understanding his friend’s concern.

  “You are somehow different, Alejandro,” Esteban enunciated slowly, scrutinizing his employer. “I haven't heard you speak so openly since you were a child. You seem as if you are actually here.”

  “It sounds ridiculous to say out loud, Esteban, but the truth is I have the sense my salvation lies with this bewitching, tyrannical seductress.”

  As Alejandro confided in Esteban, a thought broke into his reverie like a beam of light in a heavy fog. How wonderful it is there is one person I can talk to.

  Here he lived a life of opulence, and Esteban was his only true treasure.

  How much had Esteban forfeited to be his companion? His private dreams, a life of his own. What else?

  “I can see she is a seductress—even a blind man would know that—but tyrannical?”

  “The senorita has a foul temperament. She is controlling, cruel, demanding and without manners. And she never stops talking—except when she decides to snub one, which is somehow worse.”

  “I wonder that you do not avoid her then.”

  “In the same way military training makes a man, Senorita Nicolette is the fire which purifies gold. There is something of the dark arts in her, and yet I know she can take me to heaven.”

  “How can you possibly believe this?”

  “She has already taken me there."

  “You wish to bed her.” Esteban's face fell, his disappointment evident.

  “I have no intention of seducing her, Esteban.” If it were within my means to do so. “She is too precious for that.”

  “Precious?” repeated Esteban, clearly bewildered. He would have dropped his jaw if the points of his shirt would have allowed it. “The dark arts? Are these not contradictory?”

  “Everything about Senorita Nicolette is contradictory.” Alejandro was not surprised to see the disbelief in Esteban's expression. He didn't believe the words himself.

  “Let me hear it from your lips, your highness. You do not wish to bed her.”

  Alejandro could not say the words, as much as he might wish to. “I could have a woman in my bed at the snap of my fingers. Ay caray, I have to work to keep women out of my bed, you know that Esteban.”

  No, Nicolette was much more important than the fleeting satisfaction of his physical desires.

  I will not let my own cravings, my need which cannot be satisfied, destroy the most beautiful experience of my life.

  “You have it wrong, my friend.”

  “Clearly,” Esteban whispered. “And I have never been so happy to be wrong. Tell me, my prince. What do you think this singer can do for you?”

  “Possibly nothing. But I know what she represents for me.”

  “And that is?”

  “She is salvation.” Under his breath Alejandro murmured, “She represents a lost life.”

  “You love her, Alejandro?” Esteban stared at him, aghast.

  “I do not care for her at all.”

  “You do not even like her?”

  “No. However, she has a gift.”

  “Several, I should think. And how do you think this woman will do all this for you? If she is even willing…” Esteban asked softly, his expression incredulous.

  “She has the power to re-write the past. Of that there can be no question.”

  “Only God has that power.” Esteban shook his head, tapping his cane on the floor of the carriage.

  “You are correct, Esteban. As I said, she channels the Divine. Proof the Almighty chooses the imperfect among us.”

  “There is no other option.”

  “There can be no doubt I re-connected with the pain of my childhood if only for a moment. And I survived.”

  Something unnamable surprised him. Alejandro wondered what it was, he wanted to learn what it was.

  “Ah, and what do you plan to do, my friend?” Esteban leaned back into his seat, his expression contemplative.

  “This engagement will require more than gentle diplomacy.” Alejandro tapped his cane on the window sill. “I am forced to make her an offer she cannot refuse in light of the fact that expensive gifts, obsequious groveling, and appealing to her better nature—which is remarkably clandestine—has not worked thus far.”

  Alejandro was no closer to hearing her sing after their outing in the Tuileries Garden, where she was particularly disagreeable while making as much
of a spectacle of their pairing as possible. It was clear he was benefitting her, but whether or not she intended to ever return the favor was in question.

  And now two days had passed without even a word from her.

  “The senorita appears to require the full extent of your diplomatic training.”

  “I have exhausted that route. It is time to call upon my military training.”

  “You may win in one respect, Alejandro, but take care you do not lose in another. Do not win the battle and lose the war. It appears you have finally encountered a worthy adversary.”

  “Even so, I will win. Senorita Nicolette may find it is to her advantage to be accommodating.”

  27

  Isn’t she a darling?

  “Now isn’t she a darling?

  The more I love her

  the more she seems to detest me”

  —The Barber of Seville by Gioachino Rossini

  March 31, 1903

  “A façade of impressive proportions,” remarked Esteban. They pulled up to the white two-story chateau of Lord Ravensdale at 14 Rue Auguste Comte, a classic example of French architecture. “Prim, proper, stiflingly elegant—and lavish.”

  “Not an overly large residence,” Alejandro countered.

  “Nothing is large compared to the Royal Palace in Madrid,” Esteban remarked with a raised eyebrow. “Literally, since the Palacio Real is the largest royal palace in Europe. This dwelling is roughly the size of the Palacio’s gardener’s quarters.”

  “The Palacio Real is magnificent, but it lacks charm.” Alejandro frowned as he thought of his childhood home. “This is charming. I wish our evening might be the same.”

  Alejandro added as an afterthought. “As you say, an illusion.” Even so, he felt an unexplained curiosity towards his hosts as he studied the ambassador’s residence surrounded by a white marble gateway. A delightful sputtering fountain worthy of fairies and sprites was accented by round topiaries lining a marble entryway. A wrought-iron balcony surrounded the entire second story.

  “It appears the house borders the magnificent Jardin du Luxembourg on one side,” Esteban remarked with a strained neck as he peered out the window.

  “Ah, yes, the largest park in Paris at fifty-five acres. A desirable location to be sure,” Alejandro agreed without caring one way or the other. Not knowing the meaning of the word ‘home’, they were all just buildings to him.

  “Luxembourg is popular with chess and Jeux de Boules players. What a marvelous setting for a domicile.” It struck Alejandro that Esteban’s voice contained a degree of longing.

  Rather than being comforted by the restful setting, it accentuated Alejandro's conclusion that the evening was sure to put him to sleep. Given the tedium of his duties as the king’s representative, even his last two volatile meetings with Senorita Nicolette were nostalgic memories.

  Surprisingly so, given her less than amiable behavior. Nicolette had been uncharacteristically aloof during their drive in the Tuileries. Previously she had either been confrontational or engaging, but never aloof. Further adding insult to injury, she made a point to impress all those she saw with the connection, making it clear his only value was his notoriety.

  Alejandro smiled to himself in spite of his annoyance. He found Senorita Nicolette’s impertinence amusing in a curious sort of way, being unaccustomed to an honest interchange. She was nothing if not genuine. And transparent: she was angry because he would not allow her to accompany him on his diplomatic engagements.

  Absolutely out of the question. Just as the prima donna cared about her reputation and who she was seen with, his connections were critical to the future of his country.

  Clearly what was sauce for the goose was not for the gander. The diva could never see anyone’s perspective but her own: the only thing that mattered was how it affected her. Senorita Nicolette brought self regard to new heights. Her ego was even grander than her beauty, and that was saying something.

  I absolutely cannot be seen with an opera singer on my arm at a formal occasion. It was unthinkable. Everyone knew men of power kept a certain type of woman in private, but it was considered ill-mannered to flaunt one’s fancy woman before respectable people.

  I wish it were so. Alejandro sighed heavily. Senorita Nicolette certainly wasn’t his paramour, but no one else knew that.

  And she is a stage actress.

  The king would go through the roof if Alejandro presented him with another scandal.

  And I don’t blame him. International relations were already on pins and needles.

  It was as if the world was positioned for a world-wide war.

  Upon their arrival Joaquin leapt from his place next to the driver and moved to stand at the front door. He then motioned to Esteban to disembark the carriage.

  Alejandro rolled his eyes. Pretentious. He hated the drama surrounding his person.

  “Stop! Your highness.” Mid-way to the door, Esteban yelled. He reached inside his ceremonial dress to pull out a small derringer. He had apparently left his Mauser “broomhandle” at their rooms.

  I am surprised he brought the derringer. It is a dinner party, after all. Besides that, Esteban had a Spanish sabre strapped to his side. Alejandro chuckled to himself. He is over zealous.

  Still, he waited until Esteban motioned for him to join him to disembark, even as Esteban moved forward to meet him at the carriage.

  “Why are you treating me like a child, Esteban?”

  “Just a precaution. I thought I heard a sound.” Esteban frowned.

  “I expect so. We are bordering a large park. No doubt there are animals within its boundaries.”

  “No doubt.”

  “Take care you don’t shoot the family cat. I’d hate for such an incident to set off a diplomatic riff.”

  Joaquin executed a large brass knocker. The door was opened by Lord Ravensdale's butler.

  As the party of three entered the nondescript entryway, Alejandro observed with interest that their decor was pleasing but starkly simple, almost mystical in its feel, like a centuries old Italian monastery.

  As if French architecture took a walk in the woods. Stone and marble were predominant, with added plants everywhere, recreating the feeling of being in a forest. Inside.

  Quite unusual. Maybe there was more to these people than met the eye. Alejandro could hear the sound of another running fountain in the distance.

  Lord and Lady Ravensdale were waiting to greet him. Ravensdale's wife was small, dainty, beautiful, and sugary sweet: very English and no doubt exceedingly dull. Blonde, pale and bleached out.

  But wait…except for her eyes. They were arresting. And familiar. A strikingly jeweled green was rarely seen. What a strange coincidence…

  No, Lady Ravensdale’s eyes were entirely green like an emerald, vividly green, without the blue shades which made him feel he were again at sea.

  Lost at sea.

  Absorbed in Lady Ravensdale's eyes, forgetting himself and his persona for a mere second, Alejandro felt another presence enter the room. He was not accustomed to turning until he wished to.

  He found himself strongly desiring to do so, turning involuntarily.

  What the hell. He clenched his jaw.

  What is she doing here? If this is a deliberate attempt to undermine me and bring harm to my country, I will personally see that her career is destroyed.

  He did not wish to sever this relationship, it meant almost as much to him as life itself, but harm España he would not allow.

  “Your highness, may I present our daughter, Lady Nicolette,” Lord Ravensdale stated as Alejandro turned to gaze into the sea-green eyes of his opera singer.

  Alejandro felt the room spinning and instinctively leaned on his cane.

  “Your highness?” Esteban whispered, nudging him.

  Daughter. It isn’t possible.

  Somehow Alejandro found his voice after picking his jaw up off the floor. “I have already had the pleasure,” he murmured, surprised to hear his
own voice. He bent to kiss her hand that he might regain his composure. He bent so quickly he felt the tails of his tuxedo slap the back of his knees.

  “Oh, you have met?” Lord Ravensdale asked.

  Nicolette is a British peer of the realm and, moreover, her father moves in international circles. How can it be that an English lord would allow his daughter to sing on the stage?

  It is unthinkable. Alejandro’s head was spinning.

  Just as quickly, fury washed over him. Why did she not tell me? Why did she allow me to make a fool of myself?

  He glanced up at her through his eyelashes. She gazed coolly at him, clearly enjoying his discomfiture, although she did allow him to kiss her hand.

  How very agreeable of her. At this moment he was so angry he wished to strike the marble wall. But he maintained his cool, desperate to find an explanation for this freakish turn of events.

  “No doubt Prince Alejandro met Nicolette at the opera,” remarked Lady Ravensdale, nodding towards her husband.

  “Yes, on opening night,” Nicolette said.

  “I see,” nodded Lord Ravensdale.

  It is good that one of us sees.

  “If you have met, I am surprised Nicolette did not make the connection known to you.” Lord Ravensdale frowned.

  “It perplexes me as well,” Alejandro said. “No doubt it is my shortcoming.”

  “Are you surprised to see me in polite company, your highness?” Nicolette drawled with just enough of a giggle to appear playful to bystanders. But her eyes were flashing and he took her meaning clearly.

  When have you been polite? I am searching my memory and somehow coming up short.

  Prince Alejandro had not been caught unable to present a polished exterior since infancy. Why did she deliberately set me up to be humiliated and embarrassed?

  I won’t permit it. If the little minx did not know who she was dealing with, he did. He smiled broadly.

  “No, of course not,” he reiterated smoothly. “I am certain you could be polite if you felt it was deserved, Lady Nicolette.” Quickly he turned and faced Lord and Lady Ravensdale, bowing. Lord Ravensdale raised his eyebrows at his daughter even as Lady Ravensdale smiled warmly.