A World to Win

by Mary Lancaster

  “I lost — I thought it prudent! But he’s not half as bad as Katalin makes out, you know.”

  “I think you’ll find he is,” I said vaguely, watching uneasily as István all but stormed away from his sister. Though I prayed it wouldn’t, his cold, angry gaze fell eventually on us, and at once he changed direction towards us. I glanced at Zarescu. “But at the moment, I’m afraid, your problem is István. I think the cat is out of the bag.”

  Cravenly, I moved away from him, meaning to find out from Katalin what had happened. I was privileged to hear István bark out, “Sir, a word, if you please.” And Alexandru’s calm reply of “Certainly.”

  Katalin, when I found her, proved to be inaccessible. She was the centre of a happy group of young people, looking as beautiful as she ever had, but there was a feverish glitter in her eyes, a slightly hectic flush to her cheeks that worried me. I suspected she had imbibed a little too much champagne for discretion.

  “Miss Kettles,” said Elisabeth’s voice behind me. “Where is Captain What’s-his-name?”

  “Your husband is speaking to him.”

  “Ah.” She lowered her voice. “I was obliged to explain to him the nature of Katalin’s friendship — he saw them gazing stupidly into each other’s eyes when they were dancing together. It might be a good idea if the Captain went home.”

  I didn’t bother to hide the anger I felt at that. “Is that what your husband is telling him?”

  “Go and see there is no — er — disruption, will you?”

  I stared at her. “How,” I asked patiently, “would you like me to do that?”

  “I was told you were clever,” she said lazily, waving her fan and moving away.

  Once, I had been smug enough to consider my post an easy one. How in the world had it progressed to this? I threaded my way through the guests, who were about to go into the supper room, but I came upon Zarescu on his own, heading towards Katalin. He didn’t even see me till I touched his sleeve.

  “Captain,” I said, and he turned to look at me. I was shocked. His normally good-natured face was livid, his lips tight with anger, and his great, sad eyes almost tragic. Impulsively, I took his arm, uncaring who saw, and we moved together through the throng until we had a space out of ear-shot. “What happened?” I demanded. “What did he say to you?”

  Zarescu laughed mirthlessly. “He was pleased to accuse me of importuning his sister! Naturally, I denied it, after which he invited me to leave and to keep my filthy Romanian person away from his family in the future.”

  I blanched. “He said that?”

  “He was angry,” Alexandru allowed, fair to the last, dragging his hand through his black hair.

  “What did you say?”

  The Captain smiled faintly. “I said I was here at his father’s invitation, and until the Count withdrew it I was perfectly happy to stay.”

  I couldn’t resist saying roundly, “Good for you.” But a second later, sense prevailed. “It wasn’t very wise though, was it? You don’t want to make a worse enemy of István. Perhaps you should leave before he speaks to his father...?”

  “No,” said Alexandru with unexpected firmness. “I am going for supper.” And I watched helplessly as he marched up to Katalin and spoke to her. From the circle of her friends, she looked up at him in surprise. I saw her flush grow deeper and fade again. He offered her his arm; she smiled tremulously and took it, holding her head high as they walked across the ballroom towards the supper room.

  I couldn’t help admiring them then, their beauty as well as their courage. But it looked as if there would be fireworks now.

  “Have the position of these chairs fixed,” Maria’s voice said suddenly in my ear, making me jump. I realized I was not to be allowed supper — it was not the lot of the governess. I expected I was not allowed champagne either, but catching sight of a full, deserted glass, I picked it up and took a sizeable gulp. I needed it.

  Unfortunately, though I had thought no one was watching, Colonel von Avenheim happened to glance back over his shoulder and was accorded an excellent view. I saw his eyes crinkle with laughter before he turned back to his chattering partner. I liked the Colonel.

  * * * *

  The dancing was beginning again after supper before I next caught sight of István. For some, who had a long way to go home, this would be the last dance of the evening. I had told myself, without much hope, that István would calm down, at least to the extent of waiting until after the ball to expose his sister’s iniquities to the old Count, but now I saw him glowering at the spectacle of Katalin and Alex dancing together yet again. A moment later, I saw Maria say something sharp and surprisingly sensible in his ear — no doubt about drawing unwelcome attention to their sister by his behaviour — which caused him to turn away rather abruptly. A little after that I realized that he was dancing too, and made the mistake of breathing a somewhat premature sigh of relief.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It was as this dance ended that Katalin and Alexandru took their chance. Before I could guess what they were about, Zarescu had crossed the floor and was approaching the Count. I felt a stab of unease. I saw the Count shrug, then wave his arm a little exaggeratedly to the Captain to precede him.

  “What is he doing?” I asked slowly, as Katalin came to stand beside me.

  “He is asking for my hand,” Katalin said softly.

  I closed my eyes. “And you think your father will say yes, just because he beat Alex at cards?”

  She stared at me. Clearly, she had drunk far too much champagne. “Don’t you think it’s a good idea?”

  “No,” I said faintly, “I don’t. Katalin, your father will explode, and what he says so publicly, he could never reverse! If I were you, I would stop Alex now, before it’s too late...”

  Her eyes were enormous. I saw her teeth grip her lower lip. Then suddenly, she seized me by the hand. “Come on then,” she muttered, and as fast as we dared, we moved towards the door. As it was, I intercepted a few curious glances as we sped by.

  “Where have they gone?” I demanded.

  “In here,” said Katalin, indicating a poorly lit room opposite.

  “Go on then, quickly,” I urged. She drew a breath and went in, dragging me with her.

  I saw at once that we were too late. They were standing in the middle of that dim room, face to face. The Count was staring at Zarescu in stark disbelief. “You what?” he uttered.

  The Captain’s eyes flickered to us. Impulsively, Katalin went forward. “Do you know what this fellow has just asked me?” her father demanded.

  Katalin nodded, swallowing audibly. “Yes, oh yes, Papa, please say yes...”

  “Say yes? Are you as mad as he is? Am I likely to give my daughter to a penniless Romanian nobody?”

  “I am not penniless,” Alexandru said firmly. “And my Romanian race is, in fact, a matter of pride to me.”

  “Young Hungary,” mocked the Count.

  Zarescu lifted his head. “Sir, I have asked you what Katalin and I consider to be a reasonable question. May I not have an answer?”

  I felt pity well up in me, but I could do nothing now. The old man glared at him. “Yes, damn you, I’ll give you an answer! You may not marry my daughter! You may not speak to my daughter! You may not even look at my daughter! Your presumption is so unbelievable, that were it not for the fact that the foolish chit has obviously put you up to it, I would have you whipped out of the village! Do you understand me?”

  “Perfectly,” said Alexandru, low-voiced and deathly white.

  “Papa, how can you?” Katalin cried, seizing her father’s arm. “How can you speak to him so? I love him!”

  “You don’t know the meaning of the word!” said the Count contemptuously, shaking her off. “What in God’s name is the matter with the women of this family? You’re as bad as your sister!”

  Katalin paused, frowning, for now he had surprised her. He had surprised me too. “I thought we were not to speak of Sofia,” she said ab
ruptly.

  “You are not to speak of Sofia! I shall speak of whoever I wish!”

  “Then so shall I! I will marry Alexandru, whatever you say! And if you won’t consent, then I shall run away, just like Sofia!”

  The old man was white now too. I thought he was shaking. But he could still sneer. “Not you. You haven’t got Sofia’s guts! Possessions meant nothing to her! But where would you be without your allowance, your fancy clothes and jewels, every luxury at your command? For make no mistake, girl, I won’t be paying for them!” He uttered a harsh, contemptuous laugh. “But it won’t arise, will it? You’ll never see him again, do you hear? And as for you, sirrah, I took you for a sensible man. I expected you to know better. Now, get out of my sight, both of you!”

  Katalin was in tears, but she brushed past me to the door, pausing only to say brokenly, “Alexandru...” and reach out a blind hand to him. Despite the Count’s glowering presence, he took her hand and they left together. I was pleased about that, at least.

  The Count strode after them, his choleric eye finally registering my presence and causing him to pause. “What the Devil are you here for?” he barked.

  “Moral support,” I said bitterly. “But I was of no use.”

  “Then mind your own damned business!” said the Count rudely, and swung out of the room.

  Slowly, I followed him back to the ballroom. From the dance-floor, Elisabeth saw me come in, so I was not at all surprised when she sought me out only moments later. “My father-in-law is in the filthiest mood I have seen all year,” she observed. “Katalin is not here, and neither is Captain What’s-his-name. What, Miss Kettles, is going on?”

  I told her, briefly and succinctly. She closed her eyes for a moment. “Is he still alive?” she enquired. “I would have expected my father-in-law to kill him. At the very least.”

  “I think he might just as well have done so,” I said tiredly, and she shrugged her bare, elegant shoulders. Her eyes were already bored again, looking around while I waited impatiently to be dismissed, or sent about some business.

  “What is all that about?” she said slowly, and I followed her gaze to the ballroom door. Through it, amazingly, I could see the steward almost wrestling with two footmen. “Go and sort it out, will you?” said the Countess casually, and strolled away.

  I went, trailing my feet a little. I was depressed and angry and had a lot more to think about than a drunken steward behaving like a character in a bad farce. By the time I emerged, the footmen had manhandled him out of sight of the ballroom, but he was still struggling furiously.

  “What is going on?” I asked resignedly, and, in truth, without much interest, but at the sound of my voice, the steward burst from his captors with a new lease of life, and skidded to a halt before me.

  “Mademoiselle, you must listen to me!” he pleaded, as the footmen grabbed him again. “The peasants are massing at the gate! You must tell the Count!”

  I stared stupidly. “What?”

  “Peasants! Hundreds of them!” said the steward, as he was dragged backwards. Fear was clamping round my heart like a pain.

  “Let him go,” I said sharply, and, rather to my surprise, they reluctantly released him. “Go on.”

  “Some of the guests who were trying to leave are waiting at the gate. They’re frightened to go on because of the mob — the carriages are lining up...”

  I tried to force my brain to think. Lajos. It had to be Lajos, but what in God’s name had he done? “Very well,” I said to the steward. “I’ll tell the Count at once.” I glanced at one of the footmen, who was now contriving to look both innocent and wooden. “Where is Lajos Lázár?” I asked him.

  “I couldn’t say, Madame.”

  “Did you know about this?”

  “No, Madame.”

  My eyes narrowed. “I hope you’re telling the truth,” I said flatly, “because if not, any blood shed tonight will be on your hands too!”

  Perhaps it was unkind, but it made me feel better. I went quickly into the ballroom, where more and more people were taking their leave. István was hovering around his father, no doubt to discuss Katalin. I went to them at once. “Sir,” I said to the Count, “may I have a word?”

  “You again,” he glowered. “Wait. I’m busy.”

  “It can’t wait,” I said firmly. “It concerns your guests as well as you.”

  The guests beside him looked surprised. The Count’s eyes flickered, then he muttered something and stepped back. “What is it?” he demanded.

  I told him exactly what the steward had said. And István, listening in, said at once, “Lajos Lázár!”

  “Who else?” his father growled, and then suddenly roared out, “Peter! My carriage!”

  The guests all looked startled, some worried, some amused. Even the orchestra faltered, but in the end struggled on manfully. “What will you do?” István asked.

  “Go down there and sort it out. You stay here as host, and try not to let anyone else leave till I get back.”

  “May I be of assistance, sir?” It was Colonel von Avenheim.

  The Count regarded him with surprise, as if he had quite forgotten his presence here. “Just the man!” he said, sounding pleased. “Come with me!”

  The Colonel still looked a little baffled, so István quickly told his friend what I had said.

  “Let me send to the garrison at Vanora,” Avenheim said at once.

  “No,” I said without thinking, and they all looked at me in amazement. I blinked uncomfortably, for in truth I had spoken from instinct, remembering only the bloodshed inflicted by soldiers at that “little” demonstration in Glasgow. “It would take too long,” I said quickly. “Besides, shouldn’t you find out first what is going on? Perhaps they have just come to watch the guests in all their finery...”

  “Hundreds of them?” said István drily. “I know the wretched steward drinks, but even one hundred is still far too many!”

  “The lady is right, though,” Avenheim said. “Let’s go and have a look, and then decide what is best.”

  “It might be too late then,” István warned.

  “Let’s hope not.”

  Still too anxious to be relieved by this decision, I found myself following the Count and Avenheim. In the hall, they collected the steward and we all trooped out into the courtyard. I remember feeling vaguely surprised by the light which gleamed down on the waiting carriage. The moon was bright that night and the castle grounds were all well illuminated for the ball, as far as the gates themselves.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” the Count demanded as I began to climb into the carriage ahead of the steward.

  “I thought I might come with you, be useful,” I said unconvincingly.

  “For God’s sake, what use is a governess likely to be against a mob of peasants!”

  “I’ve been negotiating truces between your family and your servants all day,” I retorted, stung. “What difference is there now?”

  The old man barked out a laugh. “She’s got guts, the governess!” Since no one then forbade me, I climbed into the coach and sat beside Avenheim. I was aware of his eyes on me, curious. I didn’t blame him. I was curious myself as to why I was so determined to go, except that I knew Lajos was involved.

  The coach bounded forward towards the main path, and down to the castle gates. Here there was indeed a queue of carriages. The Count stuck his head out of the window, saying a few reassuring words to the distinctly nervous-looking guests waiting there. As our coach edged its way to the front, I peered out of the other window, and felt my stomach churn with fear.

  All the way down the hill from the castle gates, as far as my eye could see, the road was lined on either side with peasant men and women. Some held torches, and their grim, unsmiling faces were rather terrifyingly illuminated in the night. The coach halted. I listened to absolute silence. None of the peasants moved; none of them spoke; no one even coughed. It had the eerie quality of a dream.

  I felt m
y throat dry with anxiety. Was this really the uprising Lajos had told me he did not want? What had he done?

  “What in the world are they doing?” Avenheim murmured at last, looking out over the Count’s shoulder. I noticed that his voice was puzzled rather than afraid, which calmed me a little.

  “Nothing,” the Count said slowly. “Absolutely nothing.” He sat back, tugging at his lower lip and frowning ferociously.

  Avenheim looked at him. “Do you want the soldiers?” he asked, and my breath caught again.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think it might be safest.”

  “But too late,” said the Count after a pause. “I can’t let this go on. The longer they stay there... Damn it, they’re my people!” He rapped his stick sharply on the roof of the coach, and slowly, it went forward.

  That was the weirdest journey of my life. With excruciating deliberation, we passed through the lines of silent peasants, three or four people deep in some places. As I had known I would, I caught a glimpse of Lajos standing at the beginning of the line, as stern and resolute as the others around him, more forbidding than I had ever seen him. As we passed, the torch-light played over his distinctive, angular face, leaving an impression of grim, immovable power. Only his eyes moved: they saw me, and they saw the Count, but his expression never wavered, which, on that normally mobile countenance, was more frightening than all the rest.

  We drove slowly on, through an uncanny nightmare of solemn, hard faces, the only sounds the clip of the horses’ hooves and the creaking of the coach wheels. The people did nothing, just watched. Some of them were strangers to me, some were Romanians, but others I recognized easily: one of Lajos’s brothers, his parents, Zsuzsa’s mother, the man who was László’s brother, someone who had held the gate open once for the children to ride through...

  The Count swore under his breath. Again, he thumped on the roof with his stick, and the coach stopped. “Turn it!” he yelled out of the window, and with agonizing sluggishness, the coachman performed the difficult task of turning his vehicle on the narrow road. The peasants watched with the same sullen interest.