‘You expect trouble?’
‘They hope for it. I am getting old and lazy.’ She reached out to refill their glasses. ‘I’m sure the immortal garland, freedom, is worth fighting for, but I don’t much want to be there when it starts. Besides, and entirely between ourselves –’ as usual, they were eating without benefit of servants, ‘I think they are miscalculating. The Austrians will not be as distracted by the outbreak of war as they hope.’
‘They seem frighteningly competent to me,’ said Martha.
‘That’s why we are going to the country. I’m not so sure now that it was a good idea to attach those two young firebrands to you. Frankly, I’ll be delighted when Prince Maximilian returns and I can see you off to safe little Lissenberg.’
Salomon Rothschild, calling on Martha next day, said very much the same thing. ‘You’ve not heard from the Prince? I think you should perhaps write to him – or get Lady Cristabel to do so – saying how eager you are to get to Lissenberg. It is bound to be read by the authorities and should help to dispel their suspicions of you. The beginning of a war is always a dangerous time, Miss Peabody. The authorities are nervous, suspect everyone, act rashly, as Bonaparte has.’
‘I’ve been meaning to thank you for your good advice about not travelling back through France. This arrest of British citizens, caught there by the war, is a monstrous thing.’
‘If that’s just the worst of it … I hope you are going to accept Signora Aldini’s invitation.’
‘Oh, I think so.’ She was not in the least surprised that he knew about it.
‘Good. And, do, pray, let me know as soon as you arrange to go to Lissenberg. I should like to give you an introduction to a friend of mine there.’
‘If he is half as helpful to us as you have been, I shall be happy to have it. I do hope you find it worth your while, Mr. Rothschild.’
‘Never trouble yourself about that. We Rothschilds are not known for unlucky investments.’
She smiled at him. ‘The interesting thing about you Rothschilds is how little you are known at all.’
Life at the Palladian villa on the Brenta went with the smooth luxury of a summer daydream. Only Cristabel was restless. Singing lessons were no longer enough for her, and it had been easy to persuade her to write to Prince Maximilian, last heard of in Naples, and ask him when she could hope to get to Lissenberg and to work. He answered the letter in person, arriving at the villa one hot August evening, tired and dusty from a hard day’s travel.
‘I am summoned home.’ He had found the two girls sitting on the terrace that overlooked the Brenta. ‘I wish I knew why. And I hope I can persuade you ladies to let me be your escort.’
‘At once?’ asked Martha.
‘As soon as possible. It was an urgent summons. Characteristic of my father not to explain.’
‘I long to meet him,’ said Martha.
They left two days later, sped lovingly on their way by Lucia Aldini. ‘I never thought I should be so fortunate as to find myself with two daughters.’ She kissed them both impartially. ‘Never forget, either of you, that there is always a home for you with me.’
‘With us.’ Tafur turned to Lady Helen. ‘And for you too, Lady Helen, if you would honour us by asking for it. Who knows, you might even find us a respectable old married couple.’
‘As if I would care for that.’ She surprised everyone, including herself, by a quick shine of tears. ‘I’ve never been so happy in my life as this last year.’
They crossed Lake Constance on a brilliant September day and found carriages awaiting them on the Lissenberg quay. ‘I can’t believe it!’ Cristabel’s spirits had risen with every stage of the journey. ‘To find myself actually here again. Oh, Max, do you remember the day we rode down to meet your new stepmother?’
‘And got here before my father! I do indeed, Lady Cristabel.’ And then, as she blushed at the warning use of her title, he hurried on. ‘I just hope it is not bad news about the little prince that has caused my summons home.’
‘So do I, but for the most selfish of reasons. What will become of your Italian company if you have to go back to being Crown Prince?’
‘You’ll do very well I am sure. I pray it will not come to that, but I have taken the precaution of securing the services of an admirable second-in-command who is hard at work already – or so I devoutly hope – with the rest of the company. I rather expect some kind of performance of welcome, something to give me an idea of how they are shaping up.’
‘So soon?’
‘Yes, but nothing formal.’ He had received letters at the quay and been glancing quickly through them as the little cortège set forward up the mountain road. ‘Franzosi writes to say he hopes to entertain us tomorrow night. And – something else – I do hope you will not mind, Lady Cristabel… I asked him to arrange for you ladies to be lodged in the performers’ quarters, rather than at the Palace, as your rank demands. Lady Helen,’ he leaned across from the backward-facing seat he shared with Martha, ‘I hope you will understand …’
‘I’m delighted,’ she said. ‘I have had it in mind to ask you whether you had heard at all how your father feels about Cristabel’s coming.’
‘He has said nothing. He keeps his counsel, my father.’ The little party was silent for a while, until the increasing steepness of the hill suggested that they get out and walk to spare the horses. ‘It’s such a beautiful day,’ Cristabel urged. She was soon walking ahead with Prince Maximilian while Martha accommodated herself to Lady Helen’s slower pace. ‘You have still no idea why your father wants you home so suddenly?’ she went on.
‘Not the least in the world. Franzosi does not mention anything amiss, but then he says nothing about the Palace at all.’
‘Wise man. I can’t tell you how relieved I am that we are to be lodged with the other artists. Your father frightens me a little, but I long to meet your stepmother again.’
‘You will find her very much changed, poor lady, but as kind as ever.’
‘How strange it seems to be coming back. And how right. Have you hit on the subject for my opera yet?’
‘No, I’m quite in despair. But that’s for the future. I told Franzosi that you would make your first appearance as Orpheus. It seemed fitting.’
‘Bold,’ she said. ‘I do pray I justify your confidence in me.’
‘Oh, you will. But you have walked far enough.’ They had reached a bend in the mountain road and could see that the stretch ahead was less steep. ‘We had best wait here for the others.’
‘Must we?’
‘I think so. We are in Lissenberg now, Lady Cristabel.’
‘We are indeed!’ A little toss of her head as she walked away from him to look at the view back to Lake Constance, deep blue in the waning light.
It was already dusk when they reached the castle gates and all three ladies were weary enough to be relieved that there was no sign of a reception for them. The driver had paused to light the lanterns for the difficult road down to the Opera House and the gate-keeper came hurrying out to speak to Prince Maximilian in an unintelligible Liss.
‘I am so very sorry,’ Max turned to them as the door was opened and the steps let down, ‘my father wants me urgently. I dislike letting you finish the journey unescorted …’
‘Nonsense,’ said Martha robustly, ‘Signor Franzosi will have a welcome for us. Prince Gustav is our employer, and yours, I suppose.’ Smiling at Max, ‘I am sure he will have made every arrangement for our comfort. And you should not be keeping him waiting. He is your father after all.’
‘For what that is worth.’ But he said it almost in a whisper, into the carriage, so that only the three of them could hear. Martha felt a little shiver run down her spine. If Prince Gustav frightened his own son … For the first time, she wondered if they had been wise to come.
The doors slammed shut; the carriage rolled forward. ‘Things will seem more cheerful in the morning,’ said Lady Helen.
‘I do hope so,’ said Cris
tabel.
They woke next morning to sunshine and more cheerful thoughts. Their apartments were comfortable to the point of luxury, and the other members of the little company seemed friendly. ‘A great relief,’ said Cristabel, ‘they might so easily have resented me. But I wish there would be a word from the Palace.’
‘They are coming to the performance tonight.’ Martha had more than half expected that Lady Helen and Cristabel would be invited to dine at the Palace, and found the total silence disturbing.
‘Clever of Signor Franzosi to think of Pergolesi’s La Serva Padrona,’ Cristabel was determinedly optimistic. ‘Short, with only two singers; it’s just right for an occasion like this. And I’m glad we are to dine with the rest of the company. Anything else would have been fatal.’
‘I’m glad you see it that way.’
Lady Helen laughed. ‘What a fortunate thing we are women,’ she said, ‘otherwise I have the strongest feeling Prince Gustav would have expected us to wear his livery … But I do think, my dears, that we must recognise that he is making a point of a kind.’
‘A sound one,’ said Cristabel, ‘I do not wish to be treated differently from the rest of the company, Aunt, so long as you don’t mind.’
‘I think it is going to be enormously entertaining.’ Lady Helen had breathed a silent sigh of relief at finding the other singers such agreeable people, and privately thought that Prince Maximilian must have had a hard hunt for them.
The performance was to begin at nine o’clock and Franzosi begged them to be ready in good time, explaining that Prince Gustav was a martinet for punctuality. The small audience must be already seated, and the company drawn up in the foyer of the Opera House to receive their patron. Lady Helen and Martha presented a problem which Lady Helen solved by announcing that they would join the rest of the company, ‘as chaperone and manager to the leading lady’. She smiled at Martha, who bobbed her a little curtsy. They were all very much in their formal best and Martha was unhappily aware of a jealous glance or two from the less elegantly garbed ladies of the company. But Cristabel’s manner with them was perfect, with its hint of shyness, its tacit admission that she was the tyro, with much to learn from them.
A fanfare of trumpets outside. ‘The Prince moves in style,’ whispered Martha and got a look of reproach from Franzosi, who was rigid with nerves.
The doors of the foyer swung wide, massed candles flickered in their wind as the royal party advanced along the lines of bowing and curtsying singers. Prince Gustav had not changed much, Cristabel thought, but she would not have recognised his wife. They had reached her now. The Prince inclined his head ever so slightly, ‘You are welcome to Lissenberg, Lady Cristabel.’ He was passing straight on, but his wife paused for a moment to put out a shaking, tentative hand and mutter, ‘So glad,’ then turned, stumbling a little in her hurry to catch up with her husband. But Cristabel was looking the other way, at Maximilian, following his father, and the brilliantly dressed girl on his arm.
‘Minette.’ She moved forward impulsively. ‘What a delightful surprise! And Stephanie, is she here too?’ She leaned forward to kiss Minette de Beauharnais on both cheeks. Then stood back, aware of tension in Maximilian. ‘But I should not be keeping you. Later!’
Being practically servants, the singers were lucky to have inconspicuous seats at the very back of the gallery, but they could still see that Prince Gustav was not enjoying himself. His applause for the soprano’s bravura singing was merely a token gesture; inevitably, the rest of the audience followed his lead. At one point, Cristabel, carried away by her own enthusiasm, would have gone on clapping had Martha not put a warning hand on hers. It was the same when the singers took their final bows, but by now they knew what to expect and made them as short and formal as possible. Just as well. Prince Gustav was rising already and there was an undignified scramble at the back of the house as the rest of the company got back into line to see the royal party on its way. Franzosi was bone-white. Cristabel put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It was brilliant,’ she said. ‘Don’t mind – Here they come!’
Martha had assumed there would be some mingling at this point, that the Prince would wish to greet his new company of artists, and that there would be a chance of general talk. Nothing of the kind. He walked through the singers as if they were not there, ignoring bows and curtsies alike. The Princess, beside him, looked miserably straight ahead. Only Minette de Beauharnais caught Cristabel’s eye and mouthed, ‘Tomorrow,’ then turned back to Prince Maximilian, who was almost as white as Franzosi.
There should have been a celebration afterwards. ‘Celebrate?’ Franzosi said bitterly. ‘Celebrate what, pray?’
‘What do we do?’ asked Cristabel next morning.
‘Wait and see. What else can we do?’ Martha had seldom felt so discouraged.
‘But the road out could be closed any day now,’ Cristabel reminded her.
‘Then it is up to Prince Gustav to make his wishes clear before it happens. And I have no doubt he will,’ Martha went on. ‘He hardly hides his feelings, that man. I don’t know when I have taken such an instant dislike to anyone. But what in the world is Minette de Beauharnais doing here?’ She turned to a less painful subject.
‘I’ve been thinking about that.’ Lady Helen poured coffee. ‘I’d clean forgotten, but I believe there was some kind of remote relationship between those girls’ mother and Princess Amelia.’
‘So it’s just a family visit?’ Did Cristabel sound relieved?
‘I wonder how long she has been here,’ said Martha.
‘And whether she is planning to let herself be caught here by winter.’ Lady Helen rose and moved over to the window. ‘There’s a carriage coming down from the Palace now so we should know soon enough.’
‘Unless it’s our notice to quit.’ Martha had been up early that morning, writing a quick, careful note to Salomon Rothschild’s Lissenberg friend. If they found themselves having to leave suddenly, she would be in urgent need of funds.
Minette de Beauharnais was announced a few minutes later, and Martha thought it a bad sign that she had come alone. Had Prince Maximilian been forbidden to visit them?
‘Such a to-do at the Palace! Such a carry-on!’ Minette kissed both girls impulsively. ‘I couldn’t wait a moment longer to come and tell you all about it. Prince Gustav is neither to hold nor to bind. Lord what a tartar! More like an Eastern despot than a Christian prince. It does rather make one wonder … My poor Cousin Amelia looks like death and one can’t get a word out of Prince Max. So I just put on my bonnet and pelisse and called a carriage to come to you. They haven’t forbidden that yet!’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Martha.
‘Well, I rather think poor Prince Max is confined to the Palace. He’s in such disgrace!’ She giggled. ‘And all because of little me.’
‘Of you?’ asked Cristabel, amazed. But Martha thought she was beginning to understand.
‘I thought you wouldn’t have heard.’ Minette was enjoying herself. ‘That’s why it seemed the act of a friend to come quickly, and tell you.’
‘Tell us what, child?’ Lady Helen took control of the conversation. ‘But, first, sit down, compose yourself. A cup of coffee perhaps?’
‘Delicious!’ Accepting the Sèvres cup she cast sharp glances round the room. ‘You’re very snug here! The best of everything, I’m glad to see. Prince Max’s doing, I have no doubt. Such a charming man, so considerate …’ Another giggle. ‘And so obstinate! It really is too, too unflattering, but he will come round, you see if he doesn’t. He’s not stupid, that one; he’ll see where his interest lies. And then I hope after all you will be able to stay, dear, dearest Cristabel, maybe sing at the wedding, even? Think what delightful times we shall all have together, you and I and dear Martha, when the snow comes down and the roads are blocked and we are all snug together here in Lissenberg.’
‘Take us with you, child,’ said Lady Helen. ‘What wedding is this you speak of?’
‘Why, mine
and Max’s! Did you not guess that is why I am here? Uncle Bonaparte’s idea, of course. I always told you he would marry us well in the end, Stephanie and I. Mind you, I was not best pleased at first. Such a tiny country, and miles from everywhere, and then there is that poor ailing little boy, but Uncle’s doctors say he hasn’t a chance. And anyway, my Max is the older. Uncle will manage all that for us. There seems to be something about Lissenberg that makes it important to him. And then my darling Max will see how lucky he is! Such a dear, dear man.’ She turned impulsively to Cristabel. ‘You must stay! I’ll see to it. You and I will have so much to talk about. I knew, the minute I saw my Max, that I had been right to give way to Uncle Bonaparte and come. I can’t wait for Stephanie to meet Max. Her nose will be quite out of joint. He will have to come to Paris for the wedding, of course; Notre Dame, and Uncle Bonaparte giving me away. Lord, how delightful life is!’
‘Aside from the little difficulty of Prince Maximilian’s refusing the handsome offer?’ Lady Helen was at her driest.
‘Oh that! Poor boy, I don’t blame him a bit. The way his father put it to him was enough to get anyone’s gall up. And my Max has his pride; we will all have to make it as easy as possible for him to make his peace with his father. That’s partly why I am here, to ask your help, dearest Cristabel, as his childhood friend. I know I can count on you to talk some sense into the poor sweet. For everybody’s sake. Naturally, in your position the cancellation of your contract won’t mean a thing. La Scala, or the San Carlo, will toss you the handkerchief at once, no doubt, when they hear you are so suddenly available. But what about the rest of Max’s new troupe? What will happen to them? It will be out, neck and crop, if Max don’t give in to his father, for the lot of you. Not the least doubt about that. My future pa-in-law is not a reasonable man, no good pretending otherwise. So, dear, darling Cristabel, if I get leave for poor Max to come and see you, will you talk to him like a wise old friend?’ She laughed and tossed her head. ‘My Uncle Bonaparte is not the easiest of men either. He has his reasons, no doubt, for marrying me to Max. It would not be wise to cross him.’ She rose, pulling on elegant Parisian gloves. ‘Shall I send Max to you, Bella?’
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