Vienna Woods (The Imperial Season Book 2)

by Mary Lancaster

  “You mean you won’t be dancing?” Vanya said with a quick grin.

  “No.”

  “Well, we will be,” Lizzie said. “In fact, Esther’s already promised to Lord Harry for the first waltz and the supper dance.”

  Esther almost missed it, since she had bent over the rose as if she found its scent more pleasant than Garin’s presence. But without intending to, she glanced up at Lizzie’s words and caught what was no more than a flicker in his eyes, a minute twitch of his lips, swiftly passed and yet intense enough to brighten her hope. Fury and jealousy, surely jealousy.

  And so there was hope. She knew what to do.

  She smiled at Garin and hoped it was dazzling. “I’m determined to dance all night after my time away. Thank you for making it possible!” And with an airy wave of her hand, she brushed past a surprised looking Lizzie and tripped back inside the house. She hoped he would imagine her gone to begin her toilette early in order to make herself dazzlingly beautiful for Lord Harry.

  Perhaps he would gnash his teeth. Secretly, of course.

  *

  As it turned out, Esther had very little time for dressing herself for the Carrousel, largely because she and Gretel helped Lizzie and Josephine to dress Lizzie’s sisters to pretend they were grown up.

  “But they still won’t have tickets,” Esther had said naively.

  “Neither will a good proportion of the other guests you’ll see,” Lizzie said with a wry smile. “Vanya bought three more really easily—indistinguishable from the real thing.”

  “What if the police stop us?” asked Henrietta, the stunningly beautiful fifteen-year-old.

  “We’ll have to drop Herr Schmidt’s name,” Lizzie said, not entirely joking, Esther suspected. “Which is, in fact, Zelig, not Schmidt. But I’m sure it won’t come to that. Vanya would only buy the best forgeries.”

  “Nothing shabby about his lordship,” Josephine agreed. “Hold still, miss!”

  It had been Esther’s teasing idea to make the girls not just a couple of years older, but a lot older. Although she’d imagined this unlikely to find favor with the young girls, they seized on the idea with crows of delight. Josephine went to work with stage make-up to give them wrinkles, grey hair, and patchy skin. A housemaid was sent to buy black lace caps and walking sticks, while Josephine taught the girls to walk with stoops and limps. Lizzie and Esther hastily turned up hems on least favorite gowns, while Gretel dug out as many shawls as she could find.

  “Juana has hordes of shawls,” Esther said, “We could raid them if necessary.”

  “Oh, I’m sure we’ll manage,” Lizzie said. “After all, Zelig told us to stay here until tonight. What do you suppose is happening?”

  “Who cares?” Josephine said. “If you are all going to the Carrousel this evening, I am going home at last! Now, for your brother’s make-up…”

  Everyone, even Gretel, whose relief seemed to make her unbend quite pleasingly, laughed themselves silly at the sight of the three little old people with their sticks. Georgiana looked particularly ferocious, and Michael had perfected an aged shake in his hands and legs.

  “Yes, you’re all very clever, and I hope you thanked Miss Josephine,” Lizzie said at last. “But just remember, you have to stay by my side or Vanya’s at all times, and as soon as the tournament is finished, you must go home without any fuss. Lord, Esther, we’ve left ourselves no time!”

  Since the tournament was due to begin at eight o’clock, they rushed to dress for the event. The pale green ball gown, which had been optimistically packed by either Juana or Gretel to be taken to her at the monastery, had since become somewhat crushed. But thanks to Gretel, it hung now in her chamber freshly pressed and trimmed with lace. With the aid of Gretel’s help, she struggled into it and regarded herself doubtfully in the mirror.

  The gauzy green muslin over the snowy white under-gown was becoming, in a subtle way. But never in her life had she wished so much to be beautiful, to sparkle and dazzle Garin until he could no longer resist her.

  Well, this would have to do.

  For jewelry, she only had her mother’s pearls, a modest string and though pretty enough, hardly dazzling. There was no point in trying to compete in brilliance with the queens of love, who were rumored to be utilizing every diamond they owned, or could beg or borrow, in order to shine. This was according to Lizzie’s friend Dorothée, who was to be one of the queens.

  “There,” Gretel said, nodding with satisfaction. “Delightful. All the gentlemen will fight over you!”

  Esther laughed. “The gentlemen are fighting over quite different ladies tonight!” And all of them better born than she.

  Most of the queens of love, for whom the knights would compete in the Carrousel, were princesses, or countesses at the very least. In fact, rumor said one of them was to be the Austrian Emperor’s daughter, Marie Louise, wife of Napoleon himself, or at least that she would be there.

  “No one has laid eyes on Marie Louise since she came to Vienna,” Countess Savarina said, as they gathered in the downstairs drawing room to await their carriages, “so, I very much doubt she will be there at all, let alone in so prominent a role. Apart from anything else, what knight of the Congress would wish to be seen fighting for the love of Bonaparte’s empress?”

  “I feel rather sorry for her,” Esther said. “Once her father’s tool of alliance with Bonaparte, it is now an embarrassment to him. I would keep myself hidden, too.”

  They went to the Hofburg in two carriages. Vanya travelled with his mother, who seemed slightly bewildered by the sudden companionship of two giggling old ladies. Michael escorted them, and Lizzie and Esther were so proud of his adult role that Lizzie had to remind him not to leap out of the carriage or stand quite so straight.

  As expected, the Hofburg grounds were swarming with police, and several verbal fracas seemed to have broken out already over the validity of tickets. Waiting somewhat nervously to be admitted, Esther surreptitiously scanned the area, but she saw no sign of Garin.

  “Over-subscribed again,” the man behind her said disparagingly. “They’re checking all the tickets for frauds.”

  They didn’t, however, check those of Esther’s party very carefully. For one thing, Vanya presented them all at once, with the forgeries in among the genuine cards, and for another, Georgiana made a fuss about the inspector treading on her toe, all in such a high, shaky voice that Esther had trouble keeping her face straight. They were all hastily bowed through.

  The Spanish Riding School, where the Carrousel was to take place, already heaved with people under its massive crystal chandelier, which must have contained thousands of candles. Here, the party divided, and Esther was conducted to the better gallery seats reserved for ambassadors, diplomats, and other important personages; where she was reunited with her father and Juana. Two new stands had been built; one at either end of the massive arena, one for the sovereigns, and the other for the twenty-four queens of love, for whom the knights would compete in the tournament.

  “Well, I hope Prince Otto has at least turned up for this,” the general said. “The king was most put out not to find him here to greet him.”

  “The King of Kriegenstein is here?” Esther said, turning to her father with surprise.

  “Best place to seek redress after the Prussians took over his country.” The general cast her a quick glance and lowered his voice. “Between you and me, Esther, I don’t think we’ll be returning to Kriegenstein. But I imagine you can still marry Otto. He’ll never be king, but he’ll still be a wealthy man.”

  Esther took a deep breath, somewhat cynically aware that even her father couldn’t burst into rage here. “Why did he agree to so unequal a match in the first place?” she asked.

  “Apart from your obvious charms,” the general said vaguely, “I suspect he was grateful for my discretion.”

  “About his way of life?” Esther said in a suddenly cold voice that made her father glance at her askance.

  “No, no
thing like that. Merely—”

  At that moment, the orchestra in the gallery above blasted out a fanfare and everyone quieted down for the procession of the queens of love, which were a positively breathtaking display of color and glittering jewels. Diamonds and pearls winked in their gorgeous velvet gowns, and in the long, gossamer veils drawn over their faces and trailing romantically behind them, as their champions escorted them to their seats in one of the end stands.

  Dazzling as the sight was, if one were being critical, Esther thought it could be pointed out that the costumes were more seventeenth century than medieval. Even the knights wore no armor except breastplates, and instead of steel helmets, they wore wide-brimmed hats with diamond buckles and large, elegantly drooping feathers; like King Charles’ cavaliers. The rest of their costumes resembled doublet and hose rather than suits of armor, with colorful sashes tied around their middles to match the gown of their queen of love.

  Esther sat forward, peering more closely. “That’s…isn’t that Otto?” she said in amazement.

  “It looks like him,” Juana said morosely. “But of course, he’d never miss an opportunity to show off.”

  He would if he were still in Garin’s custody, Esther thought. Why had he been released? Because Garin had Meyer in custody for shooting him? But then, there were Otto’s own crimes—did those no longer matter? Or was his release a sop to the dispossessed King of Kriegenstein?

  From the swell of muted chatter around her, she rather thought others, too, were speculating about the sudden return of the vanished prince. But there was little time to dwell upon it, for after seating their ladies, the champions marched back out again and another fanfare heralded the royal party.

  The Emperor and Empress of Austria came first, followed by the Tsarina Elizabeth—interestingly, without her husband Tsar Alexander—and then the kings and queens, including the enormously fat King of Wurttemberg, and a luxuriously bewhiskered gentleman Esther immediately recognized as the King of Kriegenstein.

  Everyone rose respectfully to welcome the sovereigns who seated themselves in their gilded, throne-like arm chairs. The queens of love lifted their veils and sat also to an outpouring of enthusiastic applause. Although there was no sign of the onetime Empress, Marie Louise, among the many princesses, Esther recognized Dorothée de Talleyrand, Lizzie’s friend, dressed in black velvet with slashed sleeves to reveal white and gold beneath. Her sister, the famous Duchess of Sagan, was there too, dressed in deep green with matching cap, as was Prince Metternich’s young daughter Marie, only just seventeen years old. Diamonds winked in their hair, catching the light of the thousand candles and adding brilliance to their beauty.

  Once everyone was seated, the champions themselves finally rode in bearing lances, accompanied by squires bearing shields and pages waving bright banners in the knights’ colors. They made a magnificent procession as they rode around the arena and halted to bow and dip their lances to the sovereigns and to the queens of love.

  It was all very thrilling and splendid, and yet Esther couldn’t help looking beyond the main attractions, searching among the lesser mortals, stewards, servants, and the obvious police who lined the rooms, seeking a glimpse of Garin. Instead, seated on the opposite side, Count von Meyer was staring down at the lists, his face white.

  Her heart lurched. He’d just seen Otto. He’d just discovered the man he thought he’d killed was alive. But more than that, Meyer was here.

  “Something’s wrong,” she blurted. “Why is he here?”

  “Meyer?” the general said in surprise. “He has to support his prince, of course! Why wouldn’t he be here?”

  There was so much her father didn’t know, so much she couldn’t explain to him surrounded by strangers. She supposed Garin had allowed her and Countess Savarina to come tonight because there was nothing Meyer could do in such a crowd. Not to them, at least, but Otto, whom he’d already tried to kill…no, that was silly. Otto was even more the center of attraction tonight when he took his turn catching hoops on his lance, and jousting. Reluctantly, Esther gave Otto credit for that when his wound was so recently healed. At least he had an entourage of a squire, a page, and a groom who fussed over him after each event. She recognized the groom as his longstanding servant, Klein.

  It was only during the jousting—the main event of the tournament—that she finally saw Garin. He was a plain, black-coated figure blending into the background; unnoticed for the brilliance around him. And yet, it seemed Esther would always notice him. She always had. Of course, he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze constantly scanned the less privileged portion of the audience. Sometimes, he changed position or disappeared from her view altogether.

  As it was finally Otto’s turn to charge down the lists, Esther leaned forward in her seat, suddenly frightened that now would be the moment for mischief. The two knights clashed lances. It was hard to see where the weapons met, and if they glanced off each other’s armor, but Otto kept his seat. So did his youthful opponent, though with a rather larger wobble. Of course, there was no way Otto could have been hurt in public like this—not unless his opponent had chosen to unhorse him and disobey the rules of the games.

  Honor satisfied, the knights rode up to bow with a flourish to their ladies, and then rode toward the curtains once more.

  Esther felt her shoulders relax with relief. For the first time since Otto’s joust began, she sought out Garin, and couldn’t find him, not even by the curtain as Otto rode through. Suddenly, her heart lurched. The groom, following, dropped the curtain behind him. It was no longer Klein; it was Weber.

  Weber was in there with Otto. Was Garin with them, too? Did he even know?

  Oh God, what if it’s not Otto, but Garin whom Weber is here to kill?

  Without further thought, she jumped to her feet and pushed towards the gallery steps, as the next two knights rode out to rapturous applause.

  “Esther!” Juana hissed after her. Without turning, Esther lifted one hand, just to reassure Juana that she was not ill, and then she ran down the steps to the ground floor and whisked herself through the nearest edge of the curtain, just as all hell broke loose.

  Through the knights milling around and waiting for their turn—some mounted, some not, some slapping each other on the back in congratulation—she caught a glimpse of Otto seated on a bench by the back wall, while his squire removed his breastplate. Esther started toward him.

  Someone, his groom, who was not Klein but Weber, suddenly yelled, “Sir, you are hurt!” And rushed upon him as though he’d seen signs of blood or injury that no one else had. He seized Otto with one arm around his shoulder, while his other gloved hand whisked downward as though to staunch a wound.

  The squire, breastplate in hand, staggered backward, his mouth open in incomprehension as he was spun out of the way by Garin. Esther cried out in warning, but it was too late.

  Garin threw himself in front of Weber, knocking his hand up in the air before punching him to the ground. Only as Weber leapt straight back to his feet, swiping viciously at Garin, did Esther realize he held some kind of weapon, a spike, between his fingers. It must have been hidden when he’d clutched at Otto. If it hadn’t been for Garin, no one would have seen what Weber had done, only that Otto was hurt. Probably, the injury would have been blamed on some accident in the joust.

  All this flitted through the back of Esther’s mind. The forefront held only fear for Garin. As Weber lunged, Garin feinted backward, as though falling, but instead his leg lashed out, bringing Weber crashing to the floor once more. This time, Garin fell on him, his knee on the villain’s throat, while with both hands, he slammed Weber’s wrist back against the floor until the spike fell.

  Dietmar and another man seemed to have materialized from nowhere on either side of Weber. Dietmar bent to pick up the wicked looking spike.

  “Be careful,” Garin snapped. “It wouldn’t surprise me if it were poisoned.”

  Dietmar picked it up gingerly between his gloved finger and thum
b and wrapped it in a square of leather before pocketing it. The other man and Garin hauled the panting Weber to his feet.

  “Take him out the back way,” Garin instructed, relinquishing the struggling man to Dietmar, “and lock him up. Make sure the guards understand they’re all dismissed if he escapes again.”

  Esther swallowed. She, like everyone else in the area, was gawping from the arrested man to Otto and Garin. As if suddenly aware of it, Garin glanced up.

  “The danger is over,” he said mildly to the room in general. His gaze fell on Esther, without expression. “Prince Otto must retire from the rest of the tournament. He has an old wound that has already been sorely tested.”

  “Ah, Miss Lisle,” Otto drawled as she approached. “My true queen of love.”

  Ignoring him, Esther said low to Garin, “Meyer is here.”

  “I know. He’ll be taken at the end of the tournament, before the ball.”

  Several questions jostled for position in Esther’s mind, not least of them “Why wait?” But before she could ask any of them, he said indifferently, “Please, return to your seat, Miss Lisle.”

  She turned on her heel, blindly, furiously. How dare he dismiss her like a naughty child? She’d come to save him after all, that stupid, annoying, and arrogant pig of a man.

  Chapter Twenty

  The rest of the tournament passed for Esther in a bit of a blur, though she tried hard to appreciate the other games of skill the knights competed in. But in truth, she was relieved when it was finally over, everyone prepared to squeeze down the gallery steps and leave the Riding School for the banquet to be held in the Hofburg.

  “Miss Lisle, did you find the crown prince in good health?” a lady she barely knew asked her as they joined the crush toward the steps.

  A quick glance showed Esther that several people were gazing at her, avid for her answer. Her flight to see him had clearly been noticed, as was the fact that he hadn’t played any further part in the Carrousel.