“I’ve never danced with a princess before,” he said.
She laughed softly. “Is it any different?”
“Oh, yes. It’s the aura, the enchantment. Of course, it also helps that you’re quite beautiful.”
“All right, Rudolf, you can stop now,” she pretended to scold, emerald eyes shining. “You’ve won me over completely, and I assure you I’ll give Marilee my wholehearted endorsement. Colt and I both agree she should accept your invitation to visit Zurich. It will do her good.”
“Why don’t you accompany Marilee to Zurich?” he glibly suggested. “My mother would love to have you as our guest, and I’d feel better about Marilee traveling if you were with her.”
“How nice of you! I think I’d like that very much, and you’re very kind to include me,” Jade agreed enthusiastically.
Marilee had finished her dance with Kurt and was on her way to the terrace herself to get some fresh air in hopes of clearing away too many champagne bubbles from her head. She was surprised to see Rudolf and Jade coming in, did not have time to speculate as to the reason, or a need, for Jade quickly, and excitedly, told her of Rudolf’s invitation.
“…So,” she finished, “if you decide you’d like to go, you’ll have a traveling companion, and I think it would be a wonderful trip for both of us.”
Marilee looked from one to the other and decided perhaps it was the only way she would ever find out whether Rudolf was the man for her.
“All right,” she said quietly, without enthusiasm. “I guess I might as well.”
Jade was distressed to hear such defeat in her voice and said, “We’ll have a lovely time, and I’m looking forward to our being together, too.”
Rudolf was bristling inside to see Marilee’s reluctance. He could name dozens of women who’d leap at such an invitation. Just who did she think she was?
It was only with great effort that he was able to muster a tight smile and say, “Yes, my darling, we’ll all have a lovely time.”
But the smile was genuine when he added, “And I promise it will be a visit neither of you will ever forget!”
Chapter Eight
Amalia was livid.
There had not been a day since Rudolf had sneaked off that she had not reread the terse note he had left on his pillow, crying and cursing all the while she did so.
Mother, dear,
I have gone to Spain to attend the wedding of a special friend’s cousin. I did not tell you of my plans in advance because I knew you would worry. I should be back in a few weeks.
Love,
Rudolf
The note was worn, tattered—and so were her nerves.
“Elenore!” she screamed in the quiet gloom of her bedroom suite. “Elenore! I want you to come in here. Now!”
She did not stop to think that her daughter might be out. Elenore knew better than to be like her disobedient brother and leave without asking permission.
How Amalia wished it had never been necessary to leave Vienna. There, she’d had control over the children. Here, it was different. The city was filled with refugees from the war—all kinds and classes—and she had not wanted them exposed to such. If only Elenore were still in school and she could persuade Rudolf to go away to a conservatory and get on with his music, she would not have to worry about their being exposed to undesirable company.
Both of them had been acting mysteriously lately, but Rudolf was worse…and his leaving for so long without permission was the final blow.
“Elenore! I want you in here now!” she bellowed again.
Amalia wanted to interrogate her once more about Rudolf’s “special friend”. Oh, Elenore pretended not to know anything and swore Rudolf had confided nothing to her about his plans and that she had no idea whom he had gone to visit. But Amalia was sure she was lying. She had always prided herself on being one step ahead of her children and was now furious with herself for not having sensed that Rudolf was up to something.
Once again she read the note, straining to see in the dim light. She had ordered the thick velvet drapes closed against the sunshine. When Amalia was unhappy, she detested sunshine and blue skies, preferring stormy weather to match her dismal mood.
In ultimate frustration, she wadded the note and threw it furiously into the empty grate of the fireplace.
She began to pace aimlessly about the cheerless room. It was so dreary, with its dark, heavy furniture, faded wallpaper, and worn carpets. But it was the nicest room in the decaying old castle, so she had moved Ilsa out, even before she died. The old lady was so crazy in the head she never said a word when she was locked away in a small room in the basement to wait to die. Amalia could still remember the feeling of relief that morning when Ulda, the housekeeper, came running up the stairs, nearly stumbling and falling in her haste and terror, to report she had found her mistress dead in bed when she’d taken down her breakfast tray.
Ilsa, Amalia felt, had only been in the way, and once she was gone, the castle legally became the children’s. Oh, not that it was worth all that much in its present state of deterioration, but it was a place to live, and there were still boxes in the basement to go through in hopes of finding more valuables to sell to pay for Rudolf’s studies at a conservatory.
“If he ever recovers from his temporary state of insanity!” Amalia said aloud.
“Oh, Mother, he’s not insane!”
Elenore’s exasperated voice startled her. “How dare you sneak up on me this way? My nerves are shattered enough as it is, thanks to your thoughtless brother, without you scaring me half to death.”
“Are you sure you aren’t just afraid Grandmother’s ghost will come back to haunt you…again?” Elenore boldly taunted as she walked over to pull the drapery cord, flooding the room with light. “God, how do you stand it in the dark all the time?”
“I like it! It’s my room. I’ll do as I wish, and I won’t put up with your insolence.” Amalia hurried to close the drapes, cursing herself for what must be the thousandth time for ever having confided to Elenore about those horrible nightmares in which she thought she saw Ilsa standing at the foot of her bed. Elenore had just laughed and said it was her conscience bothering her because of the way she’d treated her. Amalia had not been able to make her or Rudolf understand that their grandmother had to be locked away for her own protection, because her mind was gone.
“Where have you been?” Amalia demanded. “I’ve been calling you for hours.”
“Walking.”
“Indeed.”
Elenore threw up her hands. “Oh, why do I even bother answering your questions, Mother? You never believe me, anyway.”
“That’s your own fault. I can tell when you’re lying, and you’re lying when you say you don’t know anything about this ‘special friend’ of Rudolf’s. I want to know who she is and what makes her so ‘special’,” she added with a sneer.
“Who says it’s a ‘she’?”
Amalia glared at her incredulously. “Do you take me for a fool? Rudolf would never make such a long journey for one of his new, fanatical men friends.” She nodded smugly when she saw the look of surprise on Elenore’s face. “Oh, yes, I’ve heard the rumors about you two keeping company with political zealots. The servants hear gossip and they pass it all along to me.
“But that’s not the point for the moment,” she went on, waving her hand to dismiss that particular subject. “Believe me, I’ll take all that up with you and your brother later, because we’re going to start cultivating a normal life around here. You’re going to make some kind of social debut, no matter how difficult, what with the war going on. It’s time to present you as an eligible young lady, because the sooner I find a husband for you, the better. And Rudolf is going to continue his studies.”
She walked over to shake her finger beneath Elenore’s nose as she glared at her menacingly. “You are going to tell me where Rudolf has gone, and you are also going to tell me everything you know about the little bitch he has gone to see, or s
o help me, I’ll call Vincent and have you locked in the same room where your crazy grandmother died till you feel like talking. I’m not bluffing, Elenore. I mean what I say.”
Elenore realized her mother was, indeed, serious. If her mother ordered the big, hulking gardener to drag her off to the basement, there would be no way she could stop him, and she would be kept there till Rudolf returned. He was due back any day, according to his original plans, but there was always a chance he might be delayed.
“I’m waiting!” Amalia snapped.
Elenore knew confinement would mean not being able to sneak out to be with Cord—an unbearable thought. No matter that she had sworn not to tell, since Rudolf wanted to be the one to break the news about Marilee. She was not about to be held prisoner just to keep a promise.
With a ragged sigh of defeat, she declared, “She’s not a bitch, Mother.”
“Aha!” Amalia cried in gleeful triumph. “So I was right. Rudolf sneaked away because he was too ashamed to be breaking his promise that he would never get involved with a woman. He knows as well as I do there’s no room in his life for anything except his music, not for a long, long time. Now, tell me everything.”
Elenore flashed a venomous glare, and Amalia responded by slapping her.
“Talk, damn you, or you’ll live to regret it!”
Elenore’s cheek stung, but she was too proud to cry. Biting back the tears of humiliation and pain, she hoarsely whispered, “What is it you want to know? I’m not privy to what goes on inside Rudolf’s head, or his heart. I only know he went to Spain to see her and to attend her cousin’s wedding. It was supposed to be quite lavish, and—”
“Who is she?” Amalia sharply cut her off to demand. “Who is this little fortune hunter that her family stages such ‘lavish’ affairs?” she asked with a sneer.
Elenore dared to snicker, “I’d hardly call, her a fortune hunter. If anything, it could be the other way around.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Elenore’s smile was gloating. “I mean, Mother, dear, that Rudolf’s ‘special friend’ is actually quite special.” She paused, enjoying the moment. “She’s a Coltrane. Her grandfather was Travis Coltrane.”
Amalia was properly impressed. She knew about Travis Coltrane and the respect accorded him in government circles, just as she knew his son, Colt Coltrane, was equally revered. The family was said to be extremely wealthy and considered the crème de la crème of society in both Europe and the United States.
“It doesn’t matter!” Amalia suddenly screeched out loud, startling Elenore with the unexpected outburst. “I will not have it! Rudolf is going to be one of the greatest piano virtuosos that ever lived. He has the gift, and he’s not going to throw it away! Whether he wants to or not, I’m going to do what I should have done when we first moved here—send him to the Conservatory of Music in Geneva!”
Tiptoeing till she reached the door, Elenore made her escape as her mother began to rant and rave. Behind her, she could hear her mother screaming for her to return, but she kept on going, not about to be a substitute for Rudolf, and she was going to hide till either he came back or her mother calmed down.
Rudolf was already back in Zurich, had arrived that very morning but had other things on his mind besides facing his mother’s wrath. He went straight to the Wolfa coffeehouse on Schulleslgasse, in the oldest part of the city. It was situated at the end of the cobblestone street, with a boarded-up building on one side and a private residence on the other, so there was little traffic, making it an ideal place for private gatherings.
He was glad the coffeehouse tradition had carried over from Vienna. It was like a private club, a large and well-furnished establishment where customers always felt at home. There were billiard tables, chess sets, cards, as well as writing materials. One of the most popular amenities was the choice of newspapers from all over the world, ringing the walls on cane holders.
Rudolf’s friends at the Wolfa had one day jokingly referred to themselves as the “Zurich Zealots”. Then, as their casual conversations became serious, and goals and philosophies united, they adopted the name, as well as the Bolshevik slogan: “Peace, Land, All Power to the Soviet.”
Rudolf did not like it when Elenore became involved, and he’d accused her of merely looking for a man. That had infuriated her, and she’d said she had as much right to pursue ideals as he did.
When Rudolf walked in that morning, he was glad to see that the Zealots declared leader, Hanisch Lutzstein, was already there.
Rudolf was trembling with excitement over his news but had to restrain himself because Lutzstein was not alone. He sat at the favored table in a rear corner, surrounded by a dozen or so comrades, and they were engaged in deep conversation.
Rudolf went to join them, his presence acknowledged, for no one just “walked up” without being noticed—and identified. They could take no chances on spies in their midst.
They were talking, as usual, about the July uprising in Petrograd that Lenin and the Bolsheviks had been unprepared for. Half a million people had marched carrying banners of protest to the war and the PG—the Provisional Government—and the PG had crushed it. They had also circulated among the regiments documents that were supposed to prove Lenin was a German agent and the uprising had actually been planned to betray Russia from the rear while Germany advanced at the front. Bolshevik strongholds had been stormed, and while Trotsky, to Rudolf’s personal dismay, had surrendered to the police, Lenin had escaped over the border into Finland.
The Zealots had just heard that Lenin had sent word from Finland that he was not at all concerned over the failure of the uprising. He called it more “demonstration” than “revolution”.
But Rudolf quickly learned that his friends were concerned with other news from Russia. It was reported that Prime Minister Kerensky, who was also Minister of War, had decided since the July uprising that it was dangerous to leave the Czar and his family where they were being held at Petrograd. Everyone was wondering where they would be taken.
“If we had gold, we could buy the information,” Lutzstein gruffly proclaimed, banging his fist on the table. “We have manpower, brain power, and by Lenin, we’ve got the will and the courage. We just don’t have the gold to buy information that disillusioned soldiers are willing to sell. All we can do is sit here all day and all night and drink and protest. I think the time has come to stop complaining and do something to help our Bolshevik comrades.”
A round of cheers went up.
At the next table, Cord Brandt sat quietly, sipping now and then from a stein of beer.
Rudolf saw him, started to join him but hesitated because he looked so preoccupied, his thoughts far, far away. Yet Rudolf could sense the man was very much aware of everything going on around him.
When Cord had first appeared at the coffeehouse last winter, he was regarded with suspicion. He would divulge nothing about who he was or where he came from, and he kept to himself. So they ignored him and minded what was said when he was about.
Then came the night he saved Hanisch Lutzstein’s life by deliberately taking a bullet intended for him. It happened during the Zealots’ celebration of the news of the Czar’s abdication. A stranger came in, did not share their joy, and subsequently got into a heated debate with Hanisch. When he became abusive, then threatening, Hanisch had him thrown out. It was Cord Brandt, however, who happened to see the stranger sneaking in the back door, gun in hand, and leaped to his feet in defense just in time to keep Hanisch from being shot in the back. Fortunately, Cord had only been grazed, but from then on, his loyalty was never questioned, and Hanisch proclaimed him a friend for life. The would-be killer got away and was dismissed as a wandering drunk, and the attempted assassination was considered merely the result of the previous altercation.
Cord Brandt became a hero and a respected comrade, and Rudolf was somewhat impressed when Elenore caught his eye. And he really was not concerned over their mother being outraged that they could bo
th be involved with people who were half Russian. She was going to learn sooner or later that he was now the head of the family. Besides, if her drinking got worse, Amalia was going to find herself tucked away in a sanitarium. He was getting tired of her tantrums.
Rudolf decided to intrude, walked over, sat down, then signaled the barmaid to bring a fresh pitcher of beer before cheerily greeting him. “Well, it’s good to be back. How’ve you’ve been, comrade?”
Cord nodded absently.
Rudolf was bursting to tell someone his news, so he paid no attention to Cord’s lack of enthusiasm over his company. He waited till the barmaid brought the beer, then excitedly whispered, “Did you hear what Hanisch was just saying about gold being needed to buy information? Well…” He grinned smugly. “I have it!”
Cord poured himself a beer, then asked with a slight sneer, “Which? The gold or the information?”
Rudolf stiffened. He did not like his sarcasm but then saw that Hanisch was disengaging himself from the others. He frantically waved to get his attention, then motioned him over.
Hanisch pulled up a chair to sit between them before asking Rudolf, “So, when did you get back from Spain?”
Rudolf told him, then repeated what he’d said to Cord, how he had what was needed.
“What are you talking about?” Hanisch said.
Rudolf glanced from one to the other, enjoying his moment of rapt attention, even though Cord did not seem interested. Taking a deep breath, he announced proudly, “A Romanov is going to be a guest in my home!”
For an instant, Hanisch did not react; then he shook his head, bewildered. “Surely you don’t mean the girl you were told to court? Her father is important, but he’s not a Romanov.”
Cord said nothing, just sipped his beer and looked bored.
“No, no, not Marilee.” Rudolf clutched Hanisch’s arm, drawing him closer to reveal what still made him dizzy to contemplate.
Love and Triumph: The Coltrane Saga, Book 8 Page 5