She paused to say more positively,
“I have gone carefully into the family tree and I assure you that there is not one word of truth in the story that there is gypsy blood in the Rákónzis.”
She waited to see if anybody contradicted her, but they thought it wiser not to do so and she continued,
“I have even found in the history of the family that the Grand Duchess, who was responsible for all this nonsense was treated by a very able physician in France, which ensured her having a child who later became the Grand Duke.”
She paused before she added finally,
“So that tale is not to be repeated again by anybody in this family!”
Laetitia said nothing, but, when she returned home, she looked at herself in the mirror and knew that her hair was different from that of other girls who were simply dark instead of being fair.
She remembered too how her father had said that her gracefulness came from the gypsies.
When she was alone, she would dance and found that her body was supple enough to make the turns, the twists and the double-jointed movements of the gypsies.
She could also spring as they could do into the air, leap over a lighted fire and appear almost as if they flew from the ground in a magical way of their own.
Because she was determined to know more about the life of the gypsies whenever she was out riding away from the Palace and therefore felt free of her cousin’s restrictions, she would stop and talk to any of the tribes she met as they wandered through the flower-filled valleys or climbed up the sides of the mountains.
Because they knew who she was and felt honoured by her presence, they would not only talk to her and answer some of the questions she asked, but they also taught her some of their Romany words.
Because she had a retentive memory, she soon had a quite large vocabulary.
She found, as she had expected, that they knew the legend of the Rákónzi gypsy ancestor and that they admired her dark hair because they believed, as she did, that it was inherited from them.
Because the Grand Duchess hated the gypsies this last year she had taken to persecuting them whenever she had the chance.
She banished them further and further away from the Capital so that Laetitia found it more difficult to locate them than in the past.
“How can Cousin Augustina be so cruel!” she had asked her mother angrily when it was reported in the newspapers that two gypsies accused of crimes of which they swore their innocence had been executed.
“It will create a great deal of ill feeling,” Princess Olga sighed. “Our gypsies have always been kind and friendly and part of our country.”
“You must speak with Cousin Louis, Mama, and beg him to do something about it,” Laetitia said.
“I will try,” her mother replied, “but you know, dearest, that he finds it very hard to do anything without the support of the Prime Minister – ”
“Who does what Cousin Augustina tells him!” Laetitia finished. “Oh, Mama, she is a horrible woman! I only hope the gypsies put a spell on her to make her suffer as much as she makes them suffer!”
Princess Olga gave a little cry of protest.
“Do not talk like that, dearest. It is unlucky!”
“Why should it be unlucky for us when we love the gypsies?” Laetitia asked. “Papa said I have inherited my hair from the gypsies and the way I move, and I am very proud of it.”
Princess Olga smiled, but she knew it was not only because Laetitia was so beautiful but also because she was a constant reminder of the gypsy blood in the Rákónzi family that the Grand Duchess took every opportunity of humiliating her by excluding her from the parties she gave at the Palace to which she should have been invited because of her rank.
As they were so poor and could hardly afford to entertain at all themselves, Princess Olga wondered again and again what she could do about it.
She had prayed night after night that she would have help in some way or another, first for her beloved son who was finding it hard in his Regiment to live on the very small allowance she was able to give him, secondly for Laetitia who at eighteen should be enjoying far more of a social life and lastly for Marie-Henriette, who in her own way was growing to be as beautiful as her sister.
“Oh, Paul, Paul!” the Princess cried in the darkness, “help me to do what I can for the children. At the moment I seem to be up against a blank wall!”
As always when she thought of her husband she felt her whole body reaching out to him, longing for him to be near her.
She knew, however, it was a mistake to display her sorrow to her children.
It was therefore only when she was alone with the Grand Duke that she talked of Paul because he had loved him as she had and it did not matter if he saw her tears.
Still standing at the window, Laetitia said,
“I am going to do a gypsy spell or rather make a wish that something will happen.”
“What do you want to happen?” Marie-Henriette asked, who was still sitting at the table sewing.
“Anything,” Laetitia replied. “Sometimes I feel as if we are incarcerated here and gradually we shall just grow older and older and this will be our grave.”
“Don’t talk like that!” Marie-Henriette exclaimed. “It makes me feel creepy.”
“A gypsy to whom I talked once told me of a spell and if you believe strongly enough it will always make your wish come true.”
“Well, do it!” Marie-Henriette said. “I cannot think what you are waiting for.”
“He told me you have to do it under a full moon,” Laetitia said, “which is not for another week. If I am going to have a magic wish, it might as well be a good one, so think of all the things you want, Hettie, and I will make a mental parcel of them.”
Marie-Henriette laughed.
“My wishes would fill a trunk! You can start off with a dozen new gowns and at least three or four balls at which to wear them.”
“Very well,” Laetitia said. “I will put that on the list. Anything else?”
“A tall, handsome and rich Prince, who will dance with me and pay for the gowns!”
Laetitia laughed.
‘That would be extremely improper!”
“Well, it is unlikely that Mama would be able to pay for them.”
“But she will, that is one of my wishes,” Laetitia argued. “And if you want a tall handsome Prince, I want one too!”
“Then it’s quite easy,” Marie-Henriette said. “You must wish for a pair of Princes who are both tall, handsome and immensely rich – and of course unmarried.”
Laetitia laughed.
“I think what we are asking for is as likely as finding ourselves flying to the moon, but the gypsies believe that their magic never fails.”
She gave a sudden exclamation.
“Good Heavens! It cannot be! But it is!”
“What is it?”
“It’s Stephanie. She is running here and she is alone!”
“I don’t believe it!” Marie-Henriette said. “You know as well as I do that she is never allowed to move without that grumpy old Baroness in attendance.”
“She is alone!”
Laetitia turned from the window to run across the room and into the small hall and Marie-Henriette heard her open the door.
“Stephanie! What a surprise!” she cried.
Then, as Princess Stephanie came into the hall, Laetitia saw that she was crying.
“What has happened? What is the matter?”
“Oh, Laetitia – I had to – see you!” Stephanie answered.
“But of course,” Laetitia said. “Come into the sitting room. Mama is resting so there is only me and Hettie here.”
The Princess moved into the small sitting room and Marie-Henriette rose from the table to kiss her.
“It’s so lovely to see you, Stephanie. It seems ages since you have been to see us.”
“I know – I know,” Stephanie replied, the tears running down her face, “but Mama wou
ld – not let me come – and now I have – run away when that ghastly old Baroness was not – looking.”
She gave a little sob and added,
“I escaped through a – side-door and ran – all the way here – ”
Laetitia helped her into a chair.
“Sit down, dearest,” she said. “Take off your bonnet and tell us what has upset you.”
Stephanie had come without a handkerchief and Marie-Henriette gave her one.
She wiped her eyes, but that seemed to make her cry more than she was already, the tears running down her small pointed face.
She was very pretty with golden hair with touches of red in it and the hazel-gold eyes which were characteristic of the Rákónzis.
She bore no resemblance to her mother who had strong hard Prussian features and it was easy to see that she was her father’s daughter. Actually she and Marie-Henriette were very much alike.
When Stephanie had taken off her bonnet, Laetitia went down on her knees beside the chair and put her arms round her.
“Tell us, dearest, what has upset you,” she said. “I cannot bear you to cry like that.”
“Oh – Laetitia! All I want to – do is to – die!”
“You must not say such things. What could have happened to make you so unhappy?”
For a moment it seemed as if the Princess was unable to speak, then almost incoherently the words burst from her,
“Mama has – told me I am to – marry King – Viktor!”
Laetitia stared at her.
“King Viktor of Zvotana?”
“Y-yes.”
The monosyllable brought another burst of crying and then Stephanie said,
“How can I possibly – marry him when you – know that I love Kyril – and he – loves me?”
Both Laetitia and her sister stared at Stephanie in astonishment.
They were both aware that when Kyril was at home he and Stephanie always rode together and that he spent a lot of time at the Palace because he said there was far more to do there than there was with them.
They had always known he was very fond of Stephanie, just as they were, but it had never crossed their minds that there was anything more between them.
“He loves me, he loves – me!” Stephanie sobbed now, “and I love him. If I cannot – marry him I – swear I will – kill myself!”
Laetitia made a little cry of protest and held Stephanie closer as she said,
“You must not say such wicked things! Have you told your mother how you feel about him?”
“No, of course – not!” Stephanie replied. “Mama would be – furious! She is very – ambitious for – me.”
Both sisters knew that this was true and Laetitia was aware there was nothing the Grand Duchess would enjoy more than having a close alliance with a more prosperous country than Ovenstadt and for Stephanie to be a Queen.
“But I have – told Papa,” Stephanie went on, “and he said that there was – no one he would rather I – married than – Kyril.”
“He knows that your mother has now said you must marry the King?”
“Yes, he knows it – but he will do – nothing. He will just let Mama have her way as he – always does and I shall find myself – married to that horrible man when all I – want is to be with – Kyril.”
As if the effort of saying so much had exhausted her, Stephanie laid her head against Laetitia’s shoulder and closed her eyes.
The tears were running down her cheeks and Laetitia wiped them away very gently before she said,
“Try to stop crying, dearest Stephanie, and tell us what has been planned from the very beginning.”
“Mama just – broke the news to me an – hour ago after she had – seen the – Prime Minister.”
Laetitia drew in her breath, knowing that meant it was an official decision of the Cabinet.
“I think he brought her a – letter from the King – agreeing to – visit us,” Stephanie went on. “Anyway, Mama said, ‘I have some good news for you, Stephanie, which I am sure will please you very much. King Viktor of Zvotana is coming here next week and I know he will ask you to be his wife’.”
“What did you do?” Laetitia asked,
“For a moment I found it – impossible to speak. I merely gasped and Mama went on, ‘you are a very fortunate girl and, of course, as it will be a State Visit, we will give a dinner, a luncheon and a ball in his honour and your engagement will be announced when he is given the Freedom of the City’.”
“And did you say you would not do it?”
“I did not say – anything,” Stephanie answered, “I just stood looking at Mama thinking that the – ceiling had fallen on my – head. Then she walked from the room – saying as she – went, ‘there is a great deal to be done and the sooner we get on with it, the better’.”
“Oh, poor Stephanie, how awful for you!” Marie-Henriette exclaimed and the sympathy in her voice started Stephanie crying once more.
“I cannot – bear it!” she wailed. “Can I get in – touch with Kyril and ask – him if he will – run away with – me?”
Laetitia looked at her in surprise.
Then she said,
“Would you be prepared to do that?”
Stephanie made a helpless little gesture with her hands.
“I suppose it – would be – hopeless. Mama would send the – Military to – fetch me back, and Kyril might be – shot or – imprisoned for – treason! Oh, Laetitia – what can I – do?”
She was crying again, crying so violently that there was nothing Laetitia could do but hold her very close.
Then, as Stephanie went on sobbing, Laetitia said looking at Marie-Henriette,
“We have to think of something! She will make herself ill!”
Marie-Henriette gave the same helpless little gesture that Stephanie had made.
“What can we do?” she asked. “I am sure she is right when she says that if they ran away Cousin Augustina would have her fetched back and Kyril would be disgraced for ever.”
“Besides, they would have no money,” Laetitia said almost beneath her breath.
“I cannot – marry King Viktor – I cannot!” Stephanie sobbed. “I have – heard about him. He is a – horrible man – and nobody would want to – marry him.”
“Why do you say that?” Laetitia asked curiously.
She was trying frantically to remember everything she had heard about King Viktor, which was not very much.
Because they lived so quietly and, since their father’s death, had received very few people of Official standing, gossip about the countries adjoining Ovenstadt was not related to her mother.
At the same time she was aware that nothing would be said when she and her sister were present.
But vaguely at the back of her mind she seemed to remember that there was some scandal or other about the King, although for the moment she could not recall what it was.
“I always – thought Mama – disliked him,” Stephanie said, wiping the tears once again from her eyes. “I remember when Papa – asked if they should – invite him to the shooting last autumn, Mama said certainly not, he was not only – improper but he also had – gypsy blood in his – veins.”
Laetitia started.
“Did she really say that?”
“Yes and she crossed him off the list and instead we had that boring Margrave of Baden-Baden to stay who Papa said could not hit an – elephant at – ten yards range!”
Ordinarily Laetitia would have laughed at this, but Stephanie was so pathetic that it did not even seem amusing.
“So the King has gypsy blood in his veins, too!” she murmured.
“It is something Mama has always – deprecated and made a – terrible fuss about,” Stephanie answered. “But a King is a King and she wants me to be a – Queen!”
This brought on another burst of tears and Laetitia suggested,
“You have to think, Stephanie. You have to think very carefully what you can do. Of course
you cannot marry the King if you love Kyril.”
She was not only thinking of the Princess as she spoke but also of her brother.
If Kyril loved Stephanie, which now she thought about it she was sure that he did, then she was determined, if it was humanly possible with the help or intervention of some magical or Divine power, to obtain for him what he wanted.
After her father, Laetitia loved her brother more than anybody else in the world and there was a very close resemblance between them.
Kyril was everything Prince Paul would have wanted in a son.
He was handsome, athletic, a magnificent rider and a sportsman to his fingertips.
What was more, Kyril never had an unkind or ignoble thought and, just as his father had been adored by everybody he came into contact with, so was he.
He was loved in the Capital and any other part of the country he visited and Laetitia had heard how popular he was in his Regiment.
He had certainly already earned a reputation for gallantry and one of the Generals who had called to see her mother had told her that the men whom Kyril commanded would die rather than let him down.
Princess Olga had been very proud and Laetitia had cherished the compliment in her heart and thought of it every night when she prayed for her brother’s safety and happiness.
Now she thought that she had been very obtuse not to have realised long ago that Kyril loved Stephanie.
He had always looked particularly happy when he came back from the Palace after being with her and it was only because she too had been so happy to be with him that it had never struck her until now that Kyril could love anybody more than his own family.
‘It was very foolish of me,’ she thought. ‘And of course he and Stephanie are perfectly suited.’
Very tall, strong and masculine, Kyril would want to protect anything so soft, feminine and helpless as Stephanie.
Because they had been brought up together, Laetitia had thought of Stephanie almost like another sister, but she knew now that she and Kyril were closely attuned to each other.
There was none of the harsh aggressiveness of her mother in Stephanie, but only the gentleness, kindness and charm of her father.
Gypsy Magic Page 2