There was no point in pretending. I don’t think I could have if I’d tried. I melted. I felt his arms tighten and lift me off my feet; he walked forward, carrying me as easily as a baby. I felt leaves brush against my hair, saw the dense blackness of trees all around me, and then I was laid gently on the spongy ground and he was beside me, leaning over me.
“It’s quite dry,” he murmured, deftly loosening my cloak, “The trees shelter it here...”
I caught agitatedly at his hands. He let me, and began to kiss my fingers one by one, with infinite tenderness. Wonderingly, I watched him. How was it possible that he could feel this for me? Slowly, I reached out with one uncertain hand, touching his hair. It was unexpectedly soft, which made me smile. He smiled back, then gently, sweetly, he kissed my mouth again, and everything in me leapt to meet him. I clung to him. For a brief, exciting moment I felt the weight of his body and gloried in it, then he was lying beside me, holding me, caressing me till I burned.
I was lost in sensation. It seemed his lips, his hands — those clever, unbearably sensitive hands — were everywhere, brushing aside clothing, kissing and stroking every part of me, arousing me to an impossible fever of longing.
At some point in the wild, shatteringly sensual onslaught, I had a moment of lucidity. I remember whispering, “Lajos, I can’t — I can’t...”
“Can’t what?” he murmured, but I didn’t answer, and it didn’t actually matter, for as it turned out I could, and I did, and I thoroughly enjoyed every breath-taking, joyous moment of it. And as the ultimate waves of ecstasy began, I held on to him in bewildered wonder and gasped into his mouth, “I love you, Lajos. I love you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Afterwards, I must have fallen into a brief sleep, for I remember waking to absolute silence and darkness. I was wrapped in my cloak and his coat, and held against his breast like a child. He was in his shirt-sleeves, sitting with his back against a tree, and I could feel his rhythmic, wakeful breathing and the warm, naked skin of his chest under my cheek. For a second, I let the memory of what we had just done engulf me. I knew I should be ashamed, but I wasn’t. Not in the slightest.
I knew too, because my mother had told me at the start of my brief, youthful engagement, that most women found their first experience of physical love a little shocking, if not downright distasteful. I had felt none of that, only pleasure and a delight that quite obliterated the pain. Of course, I wasn’t married. It seemed I was shameless on two counts.
I knew he was watching me, but for a moment I just lay in his arms, loving the magical warmth and closeness, until at last he stirred, whispering in my ear that we must go before we really did contract pneumonia. I smiled into his shoulder, and felt his arms tighten around me. Tenderly, he turned my face up to his, searching my eyes in the darkness.
“Are you happy, Katie?” he asked unexpectedly, and now for some reason I was shy again.
“Yes,” I whispered. I saw him smile.
“Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise about tonight, whatever they say about ‘decency’, or about me. Promise.”
I smiled. I didn’t see how anyone or anything could make me regret this. “I promise.”
The night sky was a little clearer as we wandered back to the boat, his arm still comfortably around my shoulders. For a little, we paused on the beach, gazing down the river in the direction of Buda-Pest. In some strange way, I felt that what had just happened here was connected with the earlier events in the city — I suppose because Lajos had managed both of them. Slowly, I turned within his arm to look up into his strong, calm face.
“Lajos?”
“Yes?”
“Did you plan this?” I asked curiously. I heard rather than saw him smile.
“No. I only wanted to be away, alone with you, to talk to you. The rest just — happened.” He looked down at me, his fingers caressing my shoulder as he added, “Not that I haven’t wished it to happen for months.”
I shook my head wonderingly, then laid it tenderly against his shoulder. I felt his arm tighten, and gloried in its strength.
“It never entered my head,” I said with difficulty, “that you could think of me — in that way.”
His hand turned my face back up to his. “How the devil did you imagine I thought of you?”
“As a friend, I hoped.”
He dropped a gentle kiss on my head, saying tenderly, “What a little fool you are after all.” I smiled, sliding both arms a little shyly round his waist. I wondered how it was possible to feel so much happiness.
“Men have never been in the habit of declaring undying love to me,” I observed, with just a touch of my customary dryness.
“I expect you daunted them,” he said, urging me towards the boat. I climbed in and he pushed it off, splashing again through the water to join me. With a kind of languid content, I admired his quick, efficient movements as he collected the oars and began to row. At last, I lifted my eyes to his face again.
“Why didn’t I daunt you?” I asked in a small voice, which I almost hoped he wouldn’t hear above the splash of the oars. But he did. He gave another of his soft, infectious laughs.
“You did daunt me, quite considerably!” he said wryly. “But fortunately, I am endowed with patience and persistence. At times, I was sure you cared for me — especially when we danced at Szelényi.”
Even after the greater closeness we had just known, the memory of the village dance made me flush warmly in the darkness.
“Why did you run away from me then?” he asked softly. I swallowed.
“I was afraid. I needed to think. You see, it was only then that I realized I loved you. Before, I had thought it just some silly, childish infatuation, induced mainly by your utter unsuitability!”
“Thank you.” He sounded amused. His eyes were still watching me through the gloom as he rowed. “But I don’t see why you then held me at an even greater distance.”
“I didn’t!”
“Yes, you did. If I so much as touched your hand, you jumped a mile. I didn’t know whether you were perhaps ashamed of your feelings, or afraid, or whether I had been a coxcomb ever to imagine you cared in the first place. Once or twice I thought you were actually jealous of Teréz — you do know that is over? — yet still, when I made even the slightest movement towards you, you drew back.”
“I had to,” I said quietly. “I could only live with my feelings if no one knew — least of all you.”
For a moment he was silent, then: “What a lot of time we wasted, Katie. Until now...” He laughed aloud. “My God, what a day it’s been!”
* * * *
We walked back through the streets a little more decorously than before, my hand tucked comfortably in his arm, still talking fitfully of small, important things. Despite the cold night air, I felt marvellously warm and close to him.
He said, “There’s a meeting tonight of the Committee of Public Safety. I should go.”
“Yes,” I agreed, feeling no neglect, only a suddenly fierce pride in him. “You should.”
“We could go first to the National Theatre,” he suggested casually, “for the victory celebrations.”
I looked at him uncertainly. Part of me longed to stay with him, and I confess I no longer cared two hoots who saw us together — in fact I would have been proud to stand with him before the whole world. But this was his day, and I would have died rather than hold him back now. I would let him enjoy his triumph without the burden of gossip my presence would cause. And I, I would go home to bed, to hug this amazing new happiness to myself till morning...
He was still waiting for my answer. I shook my head, smiling.
“No; I should go home. I need sleep, if you don’t!”
“Whatever you wish,” he said easily. “Shall we hail that fiacre?”
I nodded, perversely sad now that the magical night was to end, even though it was I who had decreed it.
It was a winter carriage, closed and cosy. As we bounded throug
h the streets, Lajos put his arms around me and I nestled comfortably against his chest, eagerly returning his sweet, exciting kisses, so that I was slightly bemused as well as disappointed when the fiacre came to a halt. Reluctantly, Lajos let me go.
He got down and helped me out. “I’ll come to you,” he said seriously, pressing a warm, brief kiss into my palm. “Very soon.”
I nodded. It was enough. I touched his cheek fleetingly, and turned and ran into the square.
The palace was in darkness save for the light that always burned in the hall. Letting myself in, I discovered Gyorgy the porter mercifully asleep at his post, encouraged, I suspected, by the contents of the empty flask which lay accusingly on his lap. As I crept past him up the staircase and along the black passage to my bed-chamber, I reflected that it was as well my eyes had become accustomed to the dark in the warm, passionate hours before. It didn’t seem important then that never in all that time had Lajos mentioned love.
* * * *
Not unnaturally, I slept later than normal the next morning. And even when I did wake, I spent some time just stretching luxuriously and smiling at the ceiling. The constant ache of trying to suppress my love for Lajos had finally vanished. I was allowed to love him. It wasn’t impossible after all. It wasn’t impossible at all.
“I’ll come to you,” he had said. “Very soon.”
Until then, I would have to hide my new happiness. The first test was in the breakfast room that morning, where I met Mattias gulping down a cup of coffee and looking distinctly the worse for wear.
“There you are!” he exclaimed, somewhere between relief and accusation.
“Apparently.” Calmly, I poured myself some coffee and sat down opposite him.
“I was worried about you,” he said indignantly. “I got some garbled message that Lajos Lázár was taking you home. Naturally I didn’t believe that, but I couldn’t find you anywhere in the Pilvax — where the devil were you?”
“On my way home, with Lajos Lázár.”
He put down his cup and looked at me, a slightly harassed expression on his boyish face. He dragged his hand through his hair, eventually saying, “Katie, I’m aware Lajos wouldn’t harm you, but you know, it isn’t quite the thing to let a fellow like that escort you home. Damn it, Lajos isn’t quite the thing!”
“Why, Mattias,” I mocked. “What principles were you marching for yesterday?”
He flushed. “Dash it, I’m not referring to his birth,” he said uncomfortably. “He hasn’t got the purest reputation, you know. It’s not so long ago that people were saying that Meleki woman was his mistress — it’s my belief she still is.” I smiled into my cup. “The point is, Katie, such odd starts won’t do your reputation any good. And besides, István will kick up such a rumpus that life won’t be worth living.”
“He can kick all he likes,” I said frankly. “I have no intention of choosing my friends to suit his tastes.”
“Well no,” he agreed reasonably. “But if you’ll take my advice, you’ll be a little more circumspect about how and when you associate with them.”
I smiled. “I believe you have become almost — responsible!”
He grinned. “You needn’t mock. It’s damnably hard to be responsible with a head like this.”
“Rough night?” I asked sympathetically.
“Shocking,” he confessed. “And I’ve a feeling we shouldn’t be having this conversation either!”
I drifted through the day with remarkable normality. I even taught the children quite efficiently, and was polite to the point of friendliness with both Maria Mirányi and Baroness Meleki when they came respectively to bemoan and rejoice over the revolution.
I found myself watching Teréz with a new fascination. She was still everything I wasn’t: beautiful, sophisticated, experienced, and she positively exuded that tantalizing kind of languid sensuality that must surely have drawn men to her like bees to honey. How could a man like Lajos come from her to me? For a moment, I panicked as I recognized how much more than I she could give him, but then the memory of Erzsébet Island flooded warmly through me and I knew that however peculiar it might be, he had chosen me.
So, patiently and with quiet confidence, I waited for Lajos to come. Looking back, I’m not quite sure what I expected of our next meeting, except that it would somehow resolve and confirm our relationship. I had really begun to believe that after all the years of loneliness, there could be some sort of happy ending for me.
Outside, in the city, peaceful demonstrations were continuing. Enthusiasts began to sign up to a newly formed National Guard to protect both the revolution and public order. And the Pilvax Café, where it had all begun, was renamed the Hall of Liberty.
I didn’t see any of this, for I was afraid to leave the house in case Lajos came; but I heard it all from Mattias who, I think, found me the only sympathetic listener in the family. István, meanwhile, hurried back to Pressburg, for news had come that the Diet, spurred on by the Buda-Pest demonstrations, had sent a delegation to Vienna to demand a separate Hungarian ministry with Count Batthyány as Prime Minister.
But Lajos did not come to me that day. It was the following afternoon when Zsuzsa, as once before, appeared in my bed-chamber with the message that Lajos was in the Little Room waiting for me.
I don’t know what I said to her. I don’t remember even leaving her, but by the time I reached the Little Room I know my heart was hammering wildly in my breast, and my hand grasping the door knob was not quite steady. I took a deep breath and went in, closing the door behind me, and leaning against it for support.
This time he wasn’t reading, but standing by the window as if he had been looking out onto the back yards. He met my suddenly fearful gaze, and smiled. The spell broke. I went quickly to meet him, impulsively holding out both hands which he took in his and immediately placed around his neck. I melted into his embrace, loving the feel of his rough, warm cheek against mine. I closed my eyes.
He moved and kissed me, a tender, overtly sensual kiss.
“I missed you,” he whispered against my lips.
I swallowed. “Good.” I heard his soft laughter.
Then, loosening his hold a little, he said, “I’ve come to tell you I’m going to Transylvania tonight, to see what I can do there.”
The disappointment was like a blow. I lowered my eyes, let my hands slip down from his shoulders.
“Then you’ve come to say good-bye,” I managed to say with forced lightness, moving out of his arms. I could feel him still watching me.
“Not if I can help it. I would rather you came with me.”
My eyes flew back to his face, searching. The thrilling, warm look was still there, but as so often, his eyes were shielded and secretive. I took a breath.
“How can I do that, Lajos?” I asked. I thought I knew the answer. It wasn’t, after all, so great a miracle as the one which had already taken place on Wednesday night. His lip quirked upwards.
“Put a few things in a bag, say good-bye to your family and come on the stage coach with me.”
“They might not accept me back in those precise circumstances!”
“You don’t need to go back,” he said softy. “Ever.” He took my hands again, drawing me back towards him. “Come with me. Stay with me.”
Involuntarily, my eyes closed again. I lifted his hand to my cheek, holding it there. I found I was smiling.
“Are you proposing marriage to me, Lajos?”
His eyes smiled back. “We don’t need the permission of a priest to be together.”
For a moment I was paralysed. I went on holding his hand, letting the true meaning of his proposal wash over me, staring at the same point on his coat, while my bright, new happiness drained away to nothing and the world came crashing round my ears. I remember knowing, even then, that this was only the beginning of a pain worse than any I had ever known, one that would go on and on and on.
It was only when he spoke again that I was able to move. “Will y
ou come with me, Katie?” he said in that low, persuasive voice that had swayed so many, myself included.
I dropped his hand as if I’d been stung, jerking away from him to the window. “No,” I said, and my voice sounded very peculiar to my own ears - harsh, stiff and a little too high. “I will not come with you. I will not go as far as the door with you. Ever.”
He was silent. I could sense his shock, but I felt no triumph in that, only a misery that was increasing unbearably with every second. At last he followed me, touched my shoulder. I flinched, and his hand fell away.
“I’ve shocked you. I’m sorry. Forget I said anything so stupid; it doesn’t matter.”
“Oh yes, it does matter. It matters a lot. I won’t be despised, Lajos.”
This then was why young ladies were so discouraged from granting pre-marital favours. I had heard Aunt Edith say it, that such girls lost the respect of the men who had used them. I hadn’t paid that much attention, preferring to believe that the real reason for chastity was the possibility of untimely babies, but it wasn’t, or not completely.
What hurt more than anything was that he was prepared to so humiliate and disdain me after allI had given him of myself, of my trust. And he had the excuse ready. I should have listened more seriously to Julia Petöfi when she told me Lajos did not believe in marriage.
“Good-bye,” I said loudly, somehow keeping the desperation out of my voice. “I would be grateful if you didn’t come here again.”
“Katie, don’t do this,” he said, an urgent note of warning in his tone, and something else that might have been alarm or a kind of pain. “If I misunderstood, I’m sorry, but you can’t believe I despise you — how could I? Can’t you see this doesn’t change how I feel? Nothing has changed since Wednesday...”
“For you perhaps,” I said contemptuously. I turned abruptly and pushed past him, making for the door. It was only a tattered and fast-dissolving pride that was holding me together, that forced me to keep my dignity by walking rather than running away. But I had forgotten how fast he could move when he chose.
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