Then, this rumour she had talked of... If it was simply servants’ gossip, I could probably rely on the Szelényis to ignore it — or even not to hear it in the first place! But her parting question about the Pilvax bothered me. And yet, why was I so worried? My time here was running out for quite other reasons.
* * * *
Later on, it struck me that Zsuzsa, who had her own peculiar ideas about my friendship with Lajos, might well be the unwitting source of the Baroness’s rumours. However, pride would not let me mention it to her, though I never prevented her from keeping me informed about Lajos’s activities. I found I was still worried about his stormy relationship with his family, though Zsuzsa soon gave me cause to believe that things there had eased a little — the unlikely reason being an evening spent at the Szelényi tavern.
The Lázár men had apparently led the entire village in a riotous drinking session — apparently not an infrequent occurrence — which involved, inevitably, Lajos riding around the tavern on his brothers’ shoulders, making a hilarious speech about the stupidity of land owners. No doubt it was dangerously similar to the one which had so offended Baron Acsády; certainly it had had the villagers roaring out their approval when they could stop laughing for long enough. Later they had progressed to the house of the Szelényi estate steward, where Lajos and Zoltán, balanced precariously on the backs of fellow inebriates, had nailed up all the doors and windows while the poor steward snored oblivious; and Lázár himself had sat helplessly at the side of the road, howling with such glee that he had had to wipe the tears from his face.
Half-laughing, half-appalled, I said, “Oh no, surely not! He must have heard them!”
“Not him,” said Zsuzsa contemptuously. “Too drunk on the Count’s wine.”
The next day she told me that Lajos had gone away for a few days. I wondered ruefully if it was with his father’s blessing, or if it would set off the trouble between them all over again.
By then, of course, the Captain’s presence in Szelényi had been discovered. Countess Elisabeth resorted to shock tactics.
At dinner one evening she suddenly said, “By the way, Katalin, I saw that young Romanian officer in the village this afternoon. Did you know he was here?”
To my distress, I saw that Katalin was very still. At last she looked up from her plate, meeting her sister-in-law’s gaze squarely. “Why, yes, I did. He is staying at the tavern, I believe, which can’t be much fun for him. I don’t know why he doesn’t stay with Lajos as he used to for at least Eszter’s sheets would be clean! Actually,” she added casually, “I thought I might invite him to the ball.”
Elisabeth’s eyes narrowed in recognition of the challenge. I saw Mattias looking closely and not too kindly at his sister, but then the Count, who had been paying scant attention up until then, sat up, staring at his youngest daughter. “You want to invite a friend of Lázár’s to the ball?” he said incredulously, and as Katalin struggled for a reply, help came from an unexpected quarter.
“He may be a friend of Lajos’s,” Mattias said wryly, “but he is still an officer and a gentleman! Some of us are, you know.”
“Oh? You count yourself a friend of his too, do you?”
“Yes, I do, as a matter of fact.”
“Ha!” said the Count derisively.
“So, should I ask him?” Katalin persisted.
Maria opened her mouth to pronounce, but before she could, the Count said, “Yes, yes, I suppose so, if he’s presentable. We have few enough young people in these parts.”
“I hope,” said István sardonically, “that it is the officer you are encouraging her to invite, and not Lajos?”
The Count gave a crack of laughter and finished his wine, crashing his glass back down on the table to draw the attention of the servants to its state of emptiness. Elisabeth was still looking at Katalin who, however, was holding a determined conversation with Baron Mirányi. It was not until the end of the meal that the two women spoke, and then it was only because Elisabeth held her back physically as they left the dining room, until the rest of the family were past.
As I slipped by them, I heard Elisabeth say, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Katalin.”
“Yes, I think I do,” said the younger girl quietly.
I had almost squeezed past, but Elisabeth’s eye caught me. “Did you know she was going to do this?”
“Yes, I knew.”
The Countess looked form one to the other of us, suddenly not quite so languid. “I just hope you’re not making matters worse.”
“That’s the whole point, Elisabeth,” said Katalin wearily. “Matters couldn’t be any worse.” Elisabeth shook her head and stepped away, but then she paused and turned back to face me.
“What a good idea,” she said lazily. “Miss Kettles, you shall go to the ball.”
I blinked. She appeared to mean it, so I roused myself to point out, “In this garb I should hardly be an ornament to your party.”
But she waved that aside. “Oh, you may borrow something of Katalin’s.”
“I’d need to borrow scissors as well.”
“Stop making difficulties,” Katalin commanded. “I think it’s an excellent idea!”
I cast her a look which clearly said traitor and which she totally ignored. But I still had one card to play. “It would not,” I said, “be suitable. The Count would not approve.”
Elisabeth regarded me with amused tolerance. “I can see why you like her,” she observed to Katalin, “but she would drive me mad in an hour. The Count will be perfectly happy, for I don’t mean you to be there as a guest but as my aide.”
Katalin gazed at her. “And as my chaperone?”
“I can see some of Miss Kettles’s cleverness is rubbing off on you,” said the Countess blandly.
Katalin shrugged philosophically. “I don’t mind Katie, but if you set Maria on me, Elisabeth, I swear I’ll do something outrageous!” she said and swung my hand into the air. “Oh, this is going to be fun, Katie! We must introduce you to someone dashing and rich, get you a husband to take you away from all this drudgery with us!”
“Thank you,” I said politely, “but I do not wish for a husband.”
“Nonsense,” said Katalin firmly. “Everyone does.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
By the day of the ball, the castle was in a positive fever of activity. An army of servants was charging from one end of the castle to the other, feverishly fetching, carrying and cleaning, hastily preparing rooms for guests staying the night — though in fact very few were, most preferring to make even journeys of several hours duration after the festivities. Considering the treacherous state of the local roads, I hoped the coachmen concerned would remain at least partially sober.
As soon as the children became Zsuzsa’s responsibility again, I was swept into service by Elisabeth, to oversee the arrangement of various small matters such as cloak-rooms, flowers, buffet tables, card tables and so on; and it was in fact while carrying out these duties that I realized the main problem of the poor servants — too many people giving conflicting orders. Margit, Maria and Elisabeth all felt some claim to be hostess for the evening, but the servants, used to regarding the gentle Margit in this role, resented having her orders upset by more forceful — not to say imperious — members of the family. As a result, I spent a great deal of time trying to smooth things over and sort out the chaos while running between the Szelényi ladies to achieve a compromise.
When I had dressed myself for the evening in my old cream silk evening gown, which Ilse, Katalin’s capable maid, had miraculously transformed simply by sewing two dark red bows on to the skirts, and one trailing ribbon rather tastefully on the left shoulder, I sallied forth to the fray once more. Elisabeth, István and Katalin were discovered in the ballroom — which was decked out for the occasion in what looked like miles of primrose silk — critically giving it a final inspection. In the gallery, the orchestra from Kolozsvár were tuning up.
“Why, Katie, you
look lovely!” Katalin exclaimed, and I felt my cheeks begin to burn as the other two also turned and stared at me.
I had eventually given in to Zsuzsa’s pleading to be allowed to dress my hair, which was a happy piece of generosity on my part for she turned out to have quite a talent in that respect, lifting my hair higher than normal and adding a cunning twist. When I had put my spectacles back on, I found my reflection in the glass almost pretty. “Thank you,” I had said, with a surprised sincerity which had made her laugh.
Elisabeth, after examining me casually from head to toe, simply nodded. “What do you think?” she asked, waving her hand round the empty but luxurious ballroom.
“Beautiful,” I said dutifully.
“If you see it becoming otherwise, rouse the servants,” she ordered, bustling off to greet her first guests.
From then on, I was assailed by an endless string of petty tasks, but to be truthful, since I had to be there at all, I was glad to have something to do. I loathe such huge social gatherings. I always have, no doubt because in the dark days before my spectacles, everyone present in such a crowd looked exactly the same. The horror still clung.
It was Maria who imperiously commanded me to the kitchen half way through the evening, and there, the first person my eyes fell on was Lajos Lázár, standing only feet away by the big table, talking seriously to two maids and a man-servant. I blinked away the shock, deliberately steadying my heart beat after the jolt it always seemed to give on coming upon him unexpectedly. He saw me at once, and his lips curved upwards.
“What the devil are you doing here?” I demanded.
“Visiting,” said Lajos blandly.
I looked him up and down. “You’re not dressed for it.”
“You, on the other hand, quite obviously are — and looking particularly beautiful.”
“I wish I could say the same to you,” I retorted, although I felt the colour rise to my cheeks. His eyes smiled, as though delighted by a compliment.
“I suppose you won’t even dance with me until I’m in evening clothes?”
“Not even then,” I said flatly, becoming aware of the grinning servants listening in with interest to this exchange. “Why don’t you go home, Lajos?”
“I’m having too much fun here.”
“I’m glad someone is! Gavrilla, may I tell Baroness Mirányi that supper will still be on time, and that the fish is dressed according to her wishes?”
“No,” said Gavrilla crossly, lumbering over to me and clouting two idle servants back to work as she went. “You may tell the lady Margit!”
“I’ll tell them both,” I said pacifically. “Thank you.” I turned away, deliberately without looking again at Lajos, but he had moved to the door and now I found him holding it open for me. When I glanced up to thank him, I realized he was following me out.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded severely as we walked together along the passage.
“I’m meeting someone.”
Of course he was. My eyes fell, but I couldn’t lose my last image of Teréz Meleki, more stunning than ever in a bold, sophisticated crimson gown, smiling with devastating if languid charm as she had waltzed past me in some nobleman’s arms.
“The Baroness was dancing when I saw her last,” I said woodenly.
“Which Baroness?” He actually sounded surprised.
“Meleki,” I said drily, and risked a glance at him. For a moment, his eyes searched mine; then I saw a smile begin to grow in them.
“Why, Katie,” he said softly. “Have you been listening to gossip?”
I flushed, busily examining some flaking paint on the wall. After a moment he stopped and I was forced to do the same, for his fingers had taken hold of my chin, gently but firmly turning my face up to his. I was aware of his eyes smiling down into mine in a way that was making me curiously breathless and quite unable to focus any longer on either Teréz or the décor.
And then abruptly the kitchen door crashed open again behind us, releasing a babble of voices and activity. With a tiny gasp, I whisked myself free of him, and was already fleeing towards the ballroom before I remembered that I still didn’t know what he was doing here, who it was he had really come to meet.
Entering the ballroom rather thoughtfully, I discovered Captain Zarescu propping up a pillar by the dance floor, watching with his great, sad eyes as Katalin waltzed past in the arms of another man. I could understand his misery, for she was positively radiant, but in truth her happiness was all to do with his presence here, and her hopes of it.
I said casually, “Did you know Lajos Lázár is here?”
“Yes; we walked up the hill together.”
“He’s not — up to anything, is he?” I asked apologetically.
The Captain looked amused. “What in the world could he be up to?”
“I don’t know,” I said frankly, wrestling with the perverse part of me that wished he was trouble-making in some way rather than lurking here in the hope of catching a glimpse of Teréz Meleki. Though I could hardly imagine a glimpse being enough for Lajos. I wondered if he had ever just gazed at his lady love on a dance floor as his friend was doing now. Deliberately, I avoided looking for her.
The dance came to an end, and I watched with amused interest how Katalin cleverly steered her cavalier to where we were standing. When I glanced at Zarescu again, his expression had relaxed. Katalin performed brief introductions before rather imperiously sending her partner for champagne. The poor boy was delighted to go: I felt almost sorry for him.
“I saved this one for you,” Katalin said, smiling mistily up at Alex. They didn’t even notice me as they waltzed off together. I moved my position quickly, before the unfortunate young man came back with her champagne, going to wait near enough Elisabeth to obey her commands.
A little later, I caught sight of Katalin on Zarescu’s arm, making a beeline for her father. Craven instinct warned me to make haste to the opposite end of the room, but even as I changed direction, Katalin’s eye caught mine with such a look of pleading even I could not ignore it. I went and sat down near to where the Count was standing, though what Earthly good Katalin imagined I could possibly be was beyond me. She drew her father away from the group he was with, leading him and Alex even closer to me. I felt distinctly uncomfortable.
“Papa,” she said with commendable calm, “this is Captain Zarescu.”
“Yes, I know. We met as he arrived. Delighted you could come.”
“Thank you. It was kind of you to invite me.” I had the impression they had said much the same things before.
“Not at all. I like to see young faces at these affairs. Old folk make ’em wretchedly dull! So, you’re in the army, eh?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Cavalry?”
“Infantry.”
“Never mind,” said the Count encouragingly. “I expect there are good promotion prospects.”
“Yes, sir, I believe so.”
“Good, good.”
“Captain Zarescu knows Mattias,” Katalin said a little desperately as the conversation seemed about to dry up.
“Do you? Wastrel,” pronounced the proud father.
“He’s young,” Zarescu excused.
“He’s a wastrel,” the Count repeated firmly. “Where did you meet him?”
“Why, here in Szelényi, when we were boys, and then again at the Pilvax coffee-house in Pest,” Alexandru said easily. Then I could almost see him kicking himself, but any hope he might have cherished of the Count not recognizing the name was quickly dashed.
“Pilvax, eh?” said the old man, looking at Zarescu a little more closely, and adding derisively, “Young Hungary!”
Katalin cast me an uneasy glance. I shrugged philosophically. The Count went on, “But you’re not a member of Young Hungary, are you?”
The Captain smiled. “Not formally; I would call myself rather a friend of the movement.”
“You surprise me,” the Count said casually. “I wouldn’t have th
ought you’d be interested.”
Zarescu’s smile died. “Why not?”
“You’re Romanian, aren’t you? Not Hungarian.”
“I was born here in Transylvania, under the Crown of St. Stephen,” Alexandru said quietly. “And I now live in Buda-Pest. I have no reason not to support Young Hungary.”
Katalin’s gaze had become agonized, pleading. I mouthed urgently, “Change the subject!” But before she could even try, the Count surprised us all by emitting a crack of laughter.
“Well, you’re not afraid to speak your mind, are you? Even to a reactionary old devil like me! Do you play cards, boy?”
“Why, yes, sir...”
“Good, good.” And the Count took his arm and led him away towards the anteroom where card tables had been set up for the addicted. I closed my mouth deliberately.
Katalin all but collapsed into the chair beside me. “Do you know,” she said weakly, “I think it is going well?”
“Better than I had dared to hope,” I said frankly. Some distance away, Elisabeth caught my eye. I sighed.
“She wants you,” Katalin pointed out, “and I want some more champagne!”
The Countess was, as usual, the centre of an admiring group of people, though I noticed she still contrived to keep an eye and an ear on her husband’s conversation with the young Acsády girl. Stepping a little away from her companions to meet me, she murmured, “Well? What happened?”
“Nothing. They’ve gone off to play cards together.”
She looked startled. “Cards?”
“Cards.”
Her breath seemed to catch as she turned away, but I had already glimpsed the humorous response in her eyes. There were times, I thought, when she was almost human.
* * * *
I didn’t get the chance to speak to Alex until much later in the evening, for I was kept busy trailing from one end of the castle to the other with few noticeable results; but eventually, during a bid to avoid Maria’s imperious gaze, I all but bumped into him. “There you are!” I exclaimed. My restless eyes had discovered Katalin with István on the other side of the room. Both looked rather heated. “How was your game?”
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