Becoming Lola

by Harriet Steel

  To her surprise, he didn’t respond with his usual enthusiasm.

  She touched his arm. ‘What’s wrong, Luis? You seem troubled.’

  ‘We need to talk,’ he said hesitantly. ‘I promised to have no secrets from you. I want to hold to that.’

  She laughed. ‘I hope the secret is not too dreadful.’

  ‘Baron von Pechmann came to see me this morning.’

  She tensed. She had never met the chief of police face to face but she didn’t like the sound of him. Apparently, he was a severe, unapproachable man and a stickler for formalities. On several occasions, he had demanded that she produce her papers and register as a foreign resident in Bavaria. Fortunately, she had managed to deal with it by visiting one of his junior officers who had been easily charmed into overlooking her lack of identification.

  ‘Why are you telling me this?’

  ‘He is concerned at the unrest in Munich. People say I let you take too great a part in government. Pechmann believes that is the root of the problem. Even when I do something they would normally approve, the people condemn it because they think it was done on your advice. I asked him to justify himself and he mentioned the increase in teachers’ pay. Lola, did you tell anyone you recommended it?’

  She shrugged. ‘I may have mentioned it to someone. Does it matter if I did?’

  He shook his head. ‘In a different world, it would not: we did a good thing. But people want me to take the advice of my ministers. I know I discuss many things with you, we can speak of matters I would not even discuss with the queen, but it would be best if you and I were the only people to know that.’

  Lola snorted. ‘The greatest monarchs and statesmen in Europe have valued my opinion. How dare people criticise you for considering it? In the end, every decision is yours alone.’

  He sighed. ‘Dearest Lolita, you and I know that is true, although you are a great help to me. But I beg you to be more discreet. If I was plain Mr Wittelsbach, my private life would not concern anyone else, but I am not. A king has to be seen to rule untrammelled by his affections.’

  She shrugged. ‘I understand. In future, I will say nothing.’

  ‘There is another matter.’ He hesitated. ‘Pechmann thinks I would be unwise to raise you to the rank of countess. He believes the nobles would be against it. Perhaps we should wait a little. The lesser title of baroness might be a safer one too.’

  Her eyes narrowed. This was too much. What was the point of being the royal favourite if a mere functionary could thwart her at every turn? Pechmann must learn that, if it came to a contest, he would not win.

  Experience had taught her reasoned argument didn’t always work best with the king. Often, he responded better if she heightened the mood. She jumped to her feet and the book of poems thudded to the floor.

  ‘I don’t want to hear any more,’ she cried. ‘Everyone is against me: even you.’

  She let her emotions carry her away and flung herself across the room, knocking into a table and toppling a vase filled with yellow hothouse roses. It smashed and water flooded over the gilt-tooled leather tabletop and dripped onto the Persian rug beneath.

  Ludwig gasped but his eyes gleamed. He seized her hands. ‘That’s not true. I made it clear to Pechmann that I did not accept that any of his complaints were valid. You are very precious to me, no one can change that.’

  Her breathing quickened.

  ‘Lola, calm yourself, I beg you.’

  She took a step towards him, the colour draining from her face then, eyes closed, she crumpled to the floor. She heard the king’s bones crack as he sank to his knees beside her, stroking her hair. His skin gave off a musky, animal smell and she felt his heart pound as he shouted for help. The door opened and from under her half-closed eyelids, she saw a maid staring at them.

  ‘Don’t stand there gawping, you silly girl,’ Ludwig shouted. ‘Fetch some smelling salts!’

  Lola heard the girl scuttle away. A few moments later, the smell of sal volatile made her nose itch. She sneezed and let her eyelids flicker open.

  ‘I have loved you too much,’ she groaned, ‘but you have betrayed me. My heart is breaking, but I no longer care. Let me die.’

  Ludwig seized her hands once more and covered them in kisses. ‘I have not betrayed you. I love you, I love you.’

  She leant on him as he helped her to her feet and took her to sit by the fire. The colour crept back into her cheeks. She rested her head on his shoulder and a smile lit his face.

  ‘I’ll tell Pechmann I don’t want his advice. No one shall come between us.’

  She drew away from him a little, took his hand and kissed it. ‘You are so good to me. Forgive me that I ever doubted you, but the cruelty of men like Pechmann makes me so sad and weary.’

  ‘Shall I leave you, now?’ he asked gently. ‘Do you want to rest?’

  She smiled. ‘Dearest Luis, don’t leave me yet. What would I do if I didn’t have you to care for me? Let us sit quietly and read together. That will be better medicine than anything.’

  *

  ‘You are a minx, Lola,’ von Maltzahn chuckled on his next visit.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Gossip leaks out of the palace like water through a sieve. The whole of Munich knows the king has snubbed Pechmann and you’re the cause of it. Did you really faint at the king’s feet?’

  She laughed. ‘The king adored our little pantomime and Pechmann is put in his place. What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Just be careful. Whatever the king says, Pechmann is a clever man. I doubt you have heard the last of him.’ He touched her hand. ‘If you are determined to be a countess, you have a formidable task ahead. Pechmann will not be the only minister against you.’

  ‘But surely Ludwig can overrule the lot of them?’

  He frowned. ‘You know we’ve talked of this before, my dear. Thrones are fragile these days. The king needs the support of his ministers and his people. If he risks defying them, who knows what might happen? The Wittelsbachs have ruled in Bavaria for six hundred years but that might not protect him.’

  ‘The people would never turn against Ludwig. That is just Pechmann’s excuse. I refuse to let him beat me.’

  Von Maltzahn shrugged. ‘Very well.’

  *

  Time went by and Lola’s design for her coat of arms gathered dust in a drawer. Her servants’ liveries remained unadorned by the silver buttons and the Meissen dinner service stayed in its wrappings. She applied to join several prestigious Munich societies, but they refused her membership. Ludwig’s courtiers and their wives declined her invitations.

  ‘That man again!’ she stormed to Ludwig. ‘Does Baron Pechmann have nothing to do but torment me?’

  They sat by the fireside in the drawing room of her suite. The king looked at her anxiously. It had proved harder than he had expected to control Pechmann and the other ministers. He sympathised with Lola’s frustration but it had been a long day. He was not sure he was up to a stormy scene.

  ‘You must not agitate yourself, Lolita.’

  ‘How can I not? Everyone shuns me. Pechmann is impossible. Not content with making difficulties over my registration, with all his pedantic demands for documents which I tell him over and over again were lost when I had to escape from Spain, he even dares to suggest that the reason I have no documents is because I am an impostor! It is iniquitous. Why will no one defend me?’

  Ludwig sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Lolita, I’ll speak with him again.’

  Her eyes flashed. ‘There are so many other things. Your ministers oppose my grant of citizenship. Your city authorities cavil over the planning permits for my house. The Art Association and the Museum Society throw out my applications for membership - even though they owe you so much for your patronage.’

  Listening to the list of complaints, Ludwig was glad that at least she didn’t know about the vitriol his family poured on her. That very morning, he had received an impassioned letter from his sister, Charlotte Aug
uste, the Dowager Empress of Austria.

  What about the example you are setting? she wrote. The world forgives this type of thing in a young man, but in old men? Think of your subjects. Brother, have mercy on your soul, your country and on me for writing thus, but I want to be able to look at you with pride – release her, give her money, lots of it if necessary as long as she leaves. Use your mind, your will! I pray to God to help you. Your true friend, your loving sister, Charlotte.

  He stared into the flames. Why were people’s hearts so cold? He wished they would understand and love Lola as he did. Outspoken she might be, but it was a rare gift to be able to give such joy. He stood up feeling a sharp pain stab his knees, then went over to her and took her face in his blue-veined hands. They looked as gnarled as the bark of an ancient oak tree against her smooth, warm cheeks.

  ‘Lolita, I still marvel that someone as young and beautiful as you and with wit and spirit enough for ten women, loves me. I had given up hope of such happiness. Can’t we just enjoy our time together quietly?’

  She bowed her head. When she spoke, her voice was full of emotion. ‘Dearest Luis, forgive me but I cannot be at peace while Pechmann humiliates me.’

  Ludwig bowed his head. ‘Then I must deal with him.’

  Her heart leapt. ‘Good: I imagine there is some small town in the provinces that needs a police director. Let him go there.’

  Ludwig shook his head. ‘Pechmann has served me well for many years. It won’t be easy to replace him. This must be my decision alone, Lolita.’

  *

  ‘I hear our friend Pechmann is to be sent away,’ von Maltzahn grinned when he next visited Lola.

  She took a puff of her cigarillo and held the smoke in her lungs for a few moments before she exhaled.

  ‘Yes, and a good thing too.’

  ‘Was it your idea?’

  ‘Only the king could make such an order.’

  He gave a dry smile. How adept she was at not answering a question when it did not suit her to do so.

  ‘Have I said something amusing?’

  ‘My dear Lola, everything you say is amusing. I was just thinking of the new joke going around the beer halls.

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘I’m not sure I should,’ he teased.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It is a little uncomplimentary.’

  She reached out and pinched his arm. ‘Now you have whetted my curiosity, you must satisfy it.’

  ‘Very well. What is the difference between Prussia and Bavaria?’

  Lola took in another lungful of smoke and paused before she blew it out. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘In Prussia, the police kicked Lola Montez out: in Bavaria, Lola Montez kicked the police out.’

  He watched her face and hoped he had not gone too far. Then her expression cleared and she let out a peel of laughter.

  Chapter 25

  Winter maintained its iron grip on Munich. Lola rose late each day and walked in the snowy streets with Turk and her guards. Anxious for her safety, Ludwig had ordered Pechmann’s replacement, Johannes Mark, to second some of his men to the task. Crowds followed her whenever she went out. In the streets, people jeered and whistled; the boldest even hurled lumps of horse dung at her party.

  She and the king often visited the house in Barerstrasse to supervise the remaining building works. One of her favourite amusements was ordering expensive furniture, ornaments, curtains and rugs, to the dismay of General Heideck, whose desk was awash with bills.

  But the winter days were gloomy and often, in spite of the fun of preparing the house, her spirits were low. Munich’s high society continued to shun her and, in spite of his assurances, Ludwig held back from making the formal order for her title. She was irritable with him and increasingly, they quarrelled.

  Maltzahn shook his head. ‘I hope we are good enough friends for me to speak frankly,’ he said. ‘You must treat the king with more respect. However much he cares for you, he was born to rule and he cannot allow anyone to trample on his dignity – not even you.’

  She scowled.

  ‘I know it’s hard for you to wait, but wait you must,’ he went on. ‘Patience, not anger, will bring you what you want.’

  He saw a vein throb at her temple and waited for an outburst, but it didn’t come. Instead, she gave him a sad smile.

  ‘You’re right, I know. My temper is a great fault in me and I should try harder to curb it. It’s just that I am so tired of everyone being against me.’

  ‘Not everyone. Especially not the king.’

  Her eyes clouded. ‘Poor Luis. I will try harder for his sake. He deserves to be loved and I do care for him, I really do. He is my good old man. One of the best men I have ever known.’

  Her expression brightened. I already have a carnival present for him - something that is a special gift between us – but I’ll give it to him now. Thank you, baron, for your good advice.’

  When Ludwig came in answer to her note, she felt a genuine contentment return. She called for wine and his favourite almond biscuits and they sat by the fire together.

  ‘Are you still angry with me?’ he asked.

  She shook her head. ‘I was never angry with you, just with your people who are against me.’

  He took another sip of wine. ‘Ah, if it could always be like this.’

  She smiled. ‘It is all I have ever desired.’

  His face brightened. ‘I wrote a new poem for you yesterday. Would you like to hear it?’

  ‘Very much.’

  She cupped her chin in her hands and watched his face as he read. ‘Ah, so lovely,’ she murmured when the last line died away. ‘How few people have your gift.’

  She stood up. ‘I asked Johannes Leeb to make a special present for you. Wait here while I fetch it.’

  Ludwig kissed her hand. ‘Of course.’

  She returned a few minutes later with a box wrapped in gold tissue. Ludwig smiled with a child’s delight as he undid it and lifted the lid. Inside was an alabaster model of a small, exquisitely formed foot.

  ‘Your foot!’ he exclaimed. ‘What a marvellous surprise, and what pleasure it will give me to look at it – I have always said your feet have no equal, even in the finest statues of antiquity.’

  She smiled. ‘I’m so glad you are pleased.’

  ‘I am more than pleased. I will keep it by me in my private apartments.’ He fondled the smooth, ivory stone. ‘You have given me perfection. What more could any man ask?’

  *

  February was carnival time. Lola and the Thierrys had chosen to wear gold masks and dominos, the black, hooded cloaks traditional at masquerades. The three of them strolled through the crowds with an old friend of Lola’s from Baden Baden, a former croupier called Fritzi whom she had met at the casinos there.

  In the crisp night air, thousands of tiny oil lamps glowed in the bare branches of the trees. Stallholders shouted out invitations to try their mulled wine and roasted chestnuts, and jugglers and acrobats showed off their skills to amuse the crowds. Most people wore fancy dress and it added to the jollity of the occasion. Demure shepherdesses danced with warriors bristling with moustaches and horned helmets. Chinese mandarins, oriental pashas, harlequins and pierrots provided bright splashes of colour. Jesters with caps and bells capered about and musicians played fiddles and flutes.

  When Lola and her friends had tired of walking, they returned to the Goldener Hirsch. It was already late, but the manager, Ambrose Havard, had decided to throw a party.

  ‘I don’t feel like going now,’ Lola remarked as they went into the hotel.

  Berthe Thierry yawned. ‘I’m too tired as well. What about you, Mathilde?’

  Mathilde shook her head. ‘I’d rather come up with you.’

  ‘Well, I’m not ready for bed yet,’ Lola’s friend Fritzi declared. He had already had a lot to drink and was in high spirits.

  Lola smiled. ‘Go and enjoy yourself, my dear. We might watch the fun from the gallery for a while.�
�

  Up in the gallery, they craned over the balustrade, laughing at the antics below until suddenly, Lola grabbed Mathilde’s arm.

  ‘Look over there. Isn’t that Fritzi? Why is he shouting and waving his arms? What a clown he is.’

  They saw Havard hurry over to the group and seize the croupier by the shoulders. Fritzi shoved him away, but in a flash, Havard had spun him round and was marching him towards the door.

  Lola’s face darkened. ‘Who does Havard think he is?’

  Berthe and Mathilde watched with dismay as she ran down the gallery. They heard her footsteps on the stairs and then saw her emerge into the chaos below. She caught up with Havard as he was about to hurl Fritzi through the door into the street.

  ‘Stop it! How dare you treat my friend like this,’ she shouted above the din.

  ‘This man insulted my guests. I insist he leaves.’

  ‘And I insist he stays.’

  ‘This is my hotel,’ Havard retorted. ‘I say what happens here.’

  ‘Your precious hotel would be nothing without my custom.’

  ‘It did very well before you came. I am sure it will continue to do so.’

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ Lola spat. ‘You will be sorry when I leave.’

  ‘I doubt it. In fact, the sooner the better.’

  The words were hardly out of his mouth when he recoiled from her slap. Another guest rushed to help him, but for his pains, he received a blow from Lola that shattered his spectacles. He cursed at the top of his voice and groped for her, but she pushed him away. Before he could mount another attack, her guards rushed through the crowd and surrounded her. In a few minutes, she was in her suite.

  ‘You are safe now,’ their captain, Weber, panted.

  Her eyes glittered. ‘Safe? I don’t want to be safe. Let me go. I want that man thrown in jail for what he has done.’

  He looked at her warily. ‘That is not how we do things in Bavaria, Dona Montez.’