Then Kathy also sat down, and the signora’s bright eyes began to study her again.
“Tell me, child, you are acquainted with Elena Liczak?”
“Yes; she was with the Princess when I first met her, in London.”
“She is a hard woman... I don’t suppose you like her?”
Rather taken aback, Kathy hesitated. “She’s a difficult person to know,” she remarked, conscious of the fact that she was being evasive.
The signora looked as if this reply afforded her some considerable amusement. “Not difficult to know,” she murmured. “You probably know her as well as you ever would know her. The truth is, petite, that there is little more to her than you have already seen, I daresay. There is no sentiment, no warmth in her nature. But she is ambitious.” There was a pause. “Her daughter,” continued the signora deliberately, “is almost certain to become the wife of my godson Leonid.”
Kathy looked at her quite steadily, but her eyes were very darkly blue, and rather hollow. “I ... see,” she said.
“Do you?” The other’s voice was gentle, but Kathy had the feeling that there was a hint of steel about it as well. “Do you really see? Do you understand, Katherine Grant, that your loving him so much won’t make him love you ... certainly won’t make him marry you?”
Kathy’s face flamed. “I didn’t know—” she began. “I mean,” she said simply, “I didn’t realize that it was—so obvious.”
“Love, even one-sided love, such as yours, has an uncomfortable habit of becoming obvious ... especially,” with a small, not unsympathetic smile, “to interfering old women like me. Listen, my child,” watching the girl’s expression closely, “Leon was born to fulfil a certain role in life. That role may have changed now, but it is hard for a man of thirty to turn his back on everything that has been important to him since his early childhood. I do not suggest, cara, that he is a man in love with his own dignity, but he is a prince of Tirhania. It is a fine thing to be a prince of Tirhania, but it also involves leading a life of service. Leon cannot forget what he is—he wishes to serve his people. Perhaps—I do not know —he dreams of leading them, as his father and grandfather did before him—as his brother, Anton,” with a soft sigh, “does not know how to do. He is not a man, child, who could fade into obscurity.” She glanced piercingly at Kathy. “If he did so, he would die.”
Kathy was about to speak, but, with a gesture, the old lady prevented her. “For the moment,” she said, “he must wait. He must bide his time, as you say in England. But the day may come ... He has an aim to work for, and nothing must interfere with it. Nothing must be allowed to interfere with it. And when he marries, his wife must be entirely suitable. No newspaper columnist—” with a biting edge to her voice—“must ever be in a position to criticize her conduct ... or her background.”
Kathy bit her lip, and when she spoke her voice was husky, and strained, and barely recognizable.
“You need not worry, signora. Naturally, the Prince couldn’t marry me—even if he were in love with me, which of course he isn’t. And I—I wouldn’t do anything that would hurt him. But I think that I ought to go home to England—as soon as possible. If you could help me explain ... to Natalia ...”
At this stage her voice gave way completely. She struggled valiantly with the lump in her throat, and the hot, stinging moisture behind her eyelids, but her self-control was nearly exhausted, and the tears began to cascade down her cheeks like rain.
Signora Albinhieri leant forward and took one of her hands. “Child, don’t cry ... don’t cry.”
She didn’t seem to be capable of saying very much else now, and Kathy wished with all her heart that the small, autocratic figure whose bony fingers were grasping hers like a kind of chilly vice would go, and leave her alone. She knew what she had to do ... it wouldn’t even be necessary for her to think about it. It was what she had intended to do, really, ever since the night before, when she had run away and left Leonid alone in the signora’s music-room. She had to admit to herself that until now, despite everything, she had been conscious of a faint, barely acknowledged feeling of hope—although she really didn’t know what she had been hoping for—but now she felt ashamed of that hope, for she saw quite plainly, more plainly, in fact, than she ever had before, how tremendous the gulf between her and Leonid really was. And she saw that even if Leonid himself had wanted to bridge that gulf—and he did not—she could not have allowed him to do so, for to attempt to bridge it would do him irreparable harm.
Her tears ceased, and she blew her nose, saying in a rather blurred voice: “I’m sorry, signora. I didn’t ... intend to cry.”
“Well, it is a good thing to cry, they say, when one has a great sorrow.”
There was a silence so complete that Kathy could hear the birds singing in the orange-trees outside, and then the signora slowly levered herself out of the big armchair. Kathy rose also, and they stood facing one another, while the last rays of a rather pale wintery sun slanted through the windows, glinting on the older woman’s rings and the girl’s chestnut hair.
“If you wish, I will speak to Natalia.” The signora’s voice was calm and matter-of-fact.
“Thank you, but I think I would prefer to—to speak to her myself.”
“Then I will say addio to you, and leave you to become calm again.” One of the thin hands touched Kathy’s shoulder. “You will forget ... in time, you will forget. Everything is forgotten in time.”
When she had gone, Kathy wandered over to the window, and stood looking out. Despite the fact that this was Italy, and the Mediterranean lay less than a quarter of a mile away, the sky looked cold and rather menacing now that the sun had slipped below the horizon, and heavy grey clouds were building up behind the umbrella pines. She remembered that in England, too, the skies would be grey—in fact, the weather would probably be very bad indeed. She wondered how she would feel when she found herself once again resident in her own country, and how easy or otherwise it would be for her to get another job. She didn’t want to trade upon the fact that she had been employed by the Karanskas ... But she had some rather excellent qualifications in any case, and if she went to a good agency it shouldn’t be too difficult. She started to think about the journey home. Since arriving in Italy she had spent little or nothing of her salary, and she should be able to pay her own way back to England. She would go overland, of course—that should be much cheaper than travelling by air. And she still had a small sum of money in the bank at home; enough to tide her over until she did succeed in securing a new job.
She let her mind dwell for a long time on the practical details of getting home; it was so much safer than dwelling on other things.
Just before six o’clock she made up her mind to go to Natalia’s room, and tell her employer everything without any further delay. Natalia had said they must have a little talk—she wondered, briefly, what had been meant by that—and somehow she thought the other girl would understand how she felt, better perhaps, than anybody else. Whatever Natalia’s failings and weakness might be, she could be very kind, and she was sensitive—to others feelings, as well as her own.
But just as Kathy was about to leave her room, she was temporarily halted by the sudden arrival of Natalia’s maid, who had been entrusted with an urgent request for the English girl to visit her mistress immediately. The maid did not speak very much English, but her eyes were sparkling like stars, and she radiated a kind of suppressed excitement.
When Kathy reached the Princess’s room, her employer was standing in front of a wide open wardrobe, and there was a dress over her arm. It was a white dress with a long, trailing skirt, and it had the unmistakable shimmer of pure, expensive silk. It was an evening dress, and as Kathy stood in the doorway watching, Natalia held it up against herself, and executed a half pirouette in front of one of the mirrors lining the wardrobe doors. Then, as she turned, she caught sight of Kathy, and almost seemed to dance towards her.
“Cherie, do you like this dress? I
bought it in Paris, and people always say that white suits me well, and yet—do you think that perhaps black ... or the grey chiffon? As I am a widow, and a—what is the word?—an exile, and I want to do what is convenable, of course.”
She was still holding the dress against herself, and laughing like an excited child, but as Kathy stood still, saying nothing, it seemed to occur to her that her present behaviour was probably a little mystifying to the other girl.
“But you do not know!” she exclaimed, throwing the dress on to a chair, from whence it was promptly rescued by the maid. “You don’t know why I sent for you, do you? You cannot imagine, petite, what a beautiful surprise I have for you!”
Whatever the surprise might be, Kathy found it very difficult to believe that it could have the power to bestow any pleasure upon herself, but she forced an automatic smile to her lips. This was not the moment ...
“We are to go to the opera!”
“The opera?” Kathy’s voice was blank.
“Yes. It is all decided. We are not to be shut up in this place any longer. Leon says that we have to appear in public some time, and apparently there has not been a reporter outside the gate for two whole days! They will not worry us now, and besides, we have to face people. So Leon has reserved a box at the opera-house in Genoa, and we are to go there tonight! Isn’t it exciting, Kathy? It was not easy to get the box, I think, at such short notice, but of course when the manager knew who it was for ...” Nobody else knows that we are going; it will be quite a surprise for everyone!”
That would certainly be true. Kathy had a vision of journalists and cameramen from all comers of the globe jostling one another for a brief glimpse of the fascinating Tirhanian exiles; and she wondered whether Natalia realized that such an outing might turn out to be rather exhausting—even upsetting. Still, since Leonid had planned it ...
Quietly, she asked: “Who will be going with you, madame?”
“Why, you, of course, cherie, and Leon ...” She wrinkled her nose slightly. “And Sonja Liczak, I suppose. But,” with more enthusiasm, “her mother, the Baronin, will not be coming.” She added casually: “Colonel Zanin will be with us. He is Leon’s friend from the Embassy in Paris, you know.”
“Yes, I know. But, Madame ...” Kathy tried to think how best to say what she wanted to say, “I’d rather not—I mean, is it absolutely necessary that I should go with you tonight?” She didn’t want to spoil Natalia’s pleasure in the opera by going into the question of her own problems now—they could be sorted out in the morning, much as she would have preferred to have everything settled as soon as possible. But she didn’t think that at the moment she could face the prospect of such an evening as Natalia was envisaging—and in the company of Leonid! “You will have Mademoiselle Liczak with you, and in any case, I—I wouldn’t fit in.”
“You would not fit in?” For a moment the other girl stared at her in wide-eyed amazement, and then she laughed, and caught hold of Kathy’s sleeve.
“Don’t be modest, mon amie, it is silly, and not at all helpful. You will wear your beautiful blue dress—you remember, the one you bought in Paris?—and Sonja Liczak and I will be quite ... quite ...”
“Overshadowed?” suggested Kathy, with a faint tinge of wry humour. “I shouldn’t think so. Your Highness, I was born and brought up in a country vicarage in England, and I’m not used to—well, to attending magnificent functions with ... with people like yourself.”
“You should not say such things. Really, I am surprised.” The mild brown eyes looked quite severe. “Your poor father was a man of the Church, and could not have been more respectable ... you have told me. Why should not his daughter go to the opera with anyone? It is wicked, I think, to be ashamed of your family.”
Kathy attempted to explain that she was not in the least ashamed of her family, but she could not prevent Natalia from reading her a brief but rather astonishing lecture on the subject of the inferiority complex with which, it seemed, she was supposed to be afflicted. She remembered the headache from which she had claimed to be suffering earlier in the day, and wondered whether that might possibly save her from the necessity of joining in the evening’s entertainment, but then, suddenly, she wondered why she was struggling so hard to avoid this outing. Certainly, it would be a strain ... it would probably be embarrassing. But arguing with Natalia was also a strain, and if she did go to the opera it might not be so very bad. If Leonid were escorting the dazzling Sonja Liczak he would be unlikely to spare so much as a glance at her, and with any luck she would be able to remain entirely in the background. She loved music, and perhaps, after all, it would be more bearable than spending the evening alone in her room, with nothing but her highly unsatisfactory thoughts for company, or going to bed early, and struggling vainly to get to sleep.
She would not admit to herself that, if she did want to go, it was probably because she might never again have an opportunity to be with Leonid.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT was an important night for the Opera House in Genoa, for it was to be the first night of a new operatic season, and for at least a week past every seat in the building had been booked for this opening performance. It had only been with the greatest difficulty, and much discreet manoeuvering, that the manager had been able to secure a box for the use of the former Tirhanian royal family, but under no circumstances would he have turned them away—one did not turn such people away, and something could always be managed. There would be tremendous excitement, of course, when it dawned on the general public that they were present, and with the practised skill of one long accustomed to the entertainment of celebrities he made discreet arrangements for the handling of the Press, and anyone else who might display an interest in the royal party. Of course, he could not prevent the possibility of something of an uproar being caused, at least outside the building ... He hoped Their Serene Highnesses realized the sort of thing they might be called upon to face.
At precisely five minutes to eight, a handsome white Jaguar slid smoothly into the Piazza di Ferrari, and drew noiselessly to a halt outside the Opera House. It was the same car in which Kathy had travelled from the airport to the Villa Albinhieri more than three weeks before, and as she once again shared the luxuriously upholstered rear seat with her employer she couldn’t help pondering on the difference between the state of her emotions now and her feelings on that earlier night.
Then, she had been smarting beneath the knowledge that the Prince was angry with her—in fact, she had fully expected to be sent home to England the following day. She had been upset; but she had also been tired, and everything had seemed a little blurred. Perhaps, also, she had known that Leonid would never dismiss her ... not as summarily as that. Leonid was essentially kind. The thought brought an embarrassing mist into her eyes, and as she determinedly stared through the offside window the brilliant street lights of Genoa seemed to quiver hazily in front of her.
It had been decided that she, Natalia and Colonel Zanin should travel in the Jaguar, and that Leonid should accompany Mademoiselle Sonja Liczak in the grey Mercedes which had brought her from the airport earlier that day, and was the property of Signora Albinhieri. Kathy was glad that the signora was not accompanying them, but was staying at home to spend a quiet evening with the mother of Sonja Liczak—however much she might dislike her—and she was also glad that so far Leonid, at least, had paid very little attention to her.
At least, she succeeded in convincing herself that she was glad.
Natalia had been distressed because when she came to think about it she realized that Kathy was, in a sense, going to be something of an odd one out in the party. That three ladies should be escorted to an important evening function by only two gentlemen was, in her eyes, not at all a satisfactory arrangement, and even she understood perfectly well that the Princess Natalia and Sonja Liczak must be considered the most important of the three women. But at length Kathy had succeeded in convincing her that she was not in the least offended by the arrangement,
and had even brought her to see, after a time, that it would be much pleasanter for her to be able to give her attention wholly to the music. She assured her employer that she would very much dislike on such an occasion to have had a particular escort assigned to herself, and although Natalia patently had difficulty in comprehending this viewpoint she eventually appeared moderately satisfied, and observed that she and Kathy would be able to amuse themselves by commenting on the appearance of any other female opera-goers who came within their line of vision.
Leonid and Sonja Liczak had arrived at the Opera House just ahead of the remainder of their party, and the manager was just bowing them over the threshold when the Jaguar crept silently to the foot of the steps. There were more bows for Natalia, and even for Kathy and the aristocratic-looking Colonel Zanin, and then they were all climbing a handsome staircase, attended by the manager, and Kathy realized that any other late arrivals who felt curiosity about them were being kept, discreetly, at a distance.
There were plenty of admiring glances for Natalia, ethereally regal in the floating white silk, but, although Kathy did not realize it, there were even more cast in her own direction, as she slowly climbed the stairs a little behind her employer. She was wearing the midnight blue evening gown which, under Natalia’s supervision, she had purchased in Paris, and she herself knew, as she had known when she first tried it on during that hectic shopping expedition in the French capital, that nothing could have suited her better. Her hair, which she had washed the day before, shone like polished chestnuts in the soft light from the chandeliers, and at Natalia’s suggestion, the Princess’s own maid had arranged it for her, sweeping it up into a glorious gleaming coil which drew subtle attention to the delicate contours of her small oval face. Her eyes looked huge, and very deeply, startlingly blue, but only someone who knew her very well would have noticed the shadows lingering in their depths.
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