Lost love Historical romance

by Adele B.

  So she had understood right – he liked her, quite a lot. She felt a twinge of contentment. Here is an Austrian officer who has taken a fancy to the Romanian peasant girl –the exploiter and the exploited, she told herself.

  And he will become even more fond of her if she uses her powers of seduction wisely, she told herself as she dazzled him with her smile and then gazed long and deep in his eyes. She knew her green gaze had the power to bewitch males, an old teacher in college had once told her that those deep luminous eyes could make any man lay his heart at her feet.

  And what she most wanted now was to conquer this young officer’s heart and then make him suffer. She had already forgotten, she forced herself to forget those tiny flutters of her heart. Now she was waging her own little war, in which she was going to be the winner and he -the prey.

  “I speak four languages fluently. I also enjoy reading, playing the violin and the piano. In fact, many of the ragged children you see all around should be able to speak, if not German, at least correct Romanian – but that is not possible, because they are Romanian, and therefore fit only for hard labour, from morning to night!” she answered bitterly.

  Surprised by the girl’s outburst, Edward looked around, to the fresh fields where an abundance of green carried with it the promise of a rich harvest.

  “It looks as if the autumn will be long and plentiful, and the fields are flourishing” he said, trying to avoid the girl’s obvious provocation.

  Her behaviour was not quite what he had imagined, and this gave him a new reason to stay. She seemed to fight him, and he liked fighters.

  “Yes, the harvest will be plentiful, as it was last year and every year – but the spoils of the earth will take the road of Vienna and of Buda, and will replenish the Grofs’ stores! All this while in the village some children don’t even remember the taste of eggs or meat.” she answered, with an embittered voice.

  Edward did not reply. He wouldn’t have known what to say, as he couldn’t care less for either the crops, the Grofs or the peasants’ fate; he just drowned in her eyes, thinking about all the strange sensations she was awakening in him.

  He felt a strong need to envelop her in his arms, to protect her, to take her away with him. He was utterly and madly in love, a thing that had never happened to him before, and he found the whole experience a little unreal.

  Less than an hour ago, when still unaware of this girl’s existence, his only wish had been to reach the castle- however it might have looked - to dismount from his horse and to rest. But now he clearly felt he could not live without her one moment more.

  He wished he were able to say a few compassionate words about the downtrodden peasants and their hungry children, he wished he were able to tell her so many things about himself, about her, about his dreams and expectations – but all he did was gaze upon the far fields, while an embarrassing silence crept between them.

  With hearts deafeningly beating in their chests, with downcast eyes, each of them trying to guess what the other was thinking in a sort of silent contest, they didn’t even hear Catrina’s footsteps as she slowly crept near, watching them. They seemed to be calm and contained, standing next to each other, looking to all the world as if they had known each other a lifetime.

  “Lunch is ready, Livia. Please invite our guests to the table!” Catrina said. She was somehow hoping that these few words would put an end to the quiet complicity between the Count and her daughter. All the eyes in the village were upon them, and it was not seemly at all.

  “All right, Mother.” Livia answered with a start, her cheeks turning red as if she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

  “Lunch is ready.” she translated in a cutting voice, and headed towards the Archduke, who was smoking, his eyes lost in the misty distances of the mountaintops.

  At a sign from Edward, the soldiers rapidly gathered around the tables. They had been directing envious eyes upon the wicker baskets filled with steaming hot, freshly baked bread, eggs, cheese and meat, fresh water and cool wine. Although hastily put together, the food was to the soldiers’ liking. They ate heartily and drank bravely of the reddish local wine, while the village women attended upon them with smiles and goodwill. Many of them had sons and husbands who were even now serving in some far-away army outpost, and they hoped that in those strange foreign countries some other good souls would return their kindness, offering their estranged relatives a piece of bread and a glass of wine.

  For an hour, these youths were not soldiers any more, but sons and husbands of some unknown, foreign women. And the soldiers themselves, seeming to understand the women’s’ feelings, answered with grateful smiles and thankful nods, finding strange resemblances between these blond or black-haired women - scarves covering the older ones’ heads and the young ones with their hair in tresses - and their own far-away mothers, daughters and wives. They were as generous and kind as their own women, and their hands were as calloused and as work-hardened as theirs.

  Edward picked at his food, taking just a little bread and cheese. The thick ham slice set on his plate made him feel a bit nauseous, he couldn’t stand ham and was not interested in the boiled eggs either. He would have liked a big plate of steaming cooked food, but he was aware the Romanians had had no time for any such preparations.

  While his companions ate and drank, his eyes never left Livia, who was gracefully passing from one table to another, pouring wine, bringing bread baskets, translating a word here and there. Smiling and charming to everyone, she seemed to look right through him, avoiding his gaze every time their eyes met; this was irritating to him. He longed for just one smile, one sign that her coldness had vanished – especially now that the food had disappeared from the tables and the soldiers were sated and awaiting the departure signal. The Archduke had already risen and was smoking his fine Cuban cigar, staring pensively at the spiralling dancing smoke rings.

  Edward got up hurriedly, pushing his way through the throng towards Livia – she was seated at an isolated table, taking out embroidered table napkins from a wicker basket, carefully folding them up and setting them on the table in an ever-increasing pile.

  As he reached her she was taking out a large, long white tablecloth.

  “May I help you?” Edward asked.

  Livia didn’t answer, but she handed him two of the tablecloth’s corners while holding the other two tightly clutched in her tiny fists. As she drew away from him, she opened her arms wide so that the tissue stretched out, becoming a sort of immaculate white bridge between them. Giving each other serious looks, like two rivals in a confrontation, both joined and divided by the expanse of cloth, they slowly drew together until their hands touched for a brief instant. Now the tablecloth was wrapped up perfectly and Livia let it rest on the table, a little flustered by the touch of Edward’s hands.

  “Please meet me in the meadow, tomorrow at about four.” he said, looking towards the stretch of wood they had just driven through when arriving in the village.

  “You will come, won’t you? Tell me you will!” he asked again, in a hurry. He had noticed the soldiers were already on horseback and waiting just for him. The Archduke gave him a discreet hand-signal, and he understood it was time to go; but she hadn’t given him any answer yet!

  He looked at her, beseeching her with his eyes.

  “Perhaps.” she said, undecided.

  “Good bye for now, then.” he answered, hurriedly heading towards his stallion, which was grazing in a bored fashion under an old lime tree.

  He jumped into saddle and rode off, saluting the peasants with friendly signs as the whole riding party quickly disappeared in the forest.

  Livia looked all around and sighed, relieved; all around her people were minding their own business; some carried the heavy wooden tables towards their houses, others took the chairs, mothers would try and discipline unruly children. It seemed nobody had noticed her distress; she was having a date with an Austrian officer, the next day!

  She w
ished to think about all this, and seeing that her parents were still helping here and there, she sneaked quietly home. She needed to be alone, to remember the extraordinary events of an unusually tiring and emotionally draining morning.

  As soon as she entered the house she headed straight for the mirror, gazing long and deep at her reflected image. In the morning she hadn’t paid particular attention to the way she looked, but now she was quite contented with what she saw. She was beautiful enough to turn the young officer’s mind!

  She was used to this, she had been considered a beauty even in childhood. In college people would openly and sincerely praise her good looks, but there were others who resented her for this and tried to make their feelings very clear. Many of her colleagues were noblemen’s’ and Grofs’ daughters, with huge fortunes but sadly devoid of any good looks or feminine qualities; they pathetically tried to disguise this by adorning themselves in rich brocades and expensive jewellery, in a vain attempt to attract attention.

  In the village, since her return, she had been aware that her beauty impressed the peasants, who would respectfully lift up their hats whenever they encountered her. She also knew that they nicknamed her, secretly, 'the world’s beauty' and were proud she adorned their village with her good looks.

  Livia was aware that beauty can be a curse, too. It was seen as an investment by her mother; together with the good education she had received, it should lead to a good marriage.

  She admired her rosy skin, the expressive, well-contoured but tired eyes, the finely chiselled nose, the silky hair. Vanity was far from her mind now; she thought of her beauty as a natural thing, as natural as the meadows and the forests, the flowery valleys and the rich gardens.

  So she would see this young officer tomorrow; she would use her beauty as a weapon, she would enchant him, bewitch him, make him lose his mind – and then she would run away! She would use her good looks as a weapon.

  The deep hatred she felt for the Austrians would be avenged on him; and it would be her, one of the downtrodden and the humiliated, who would make him taste this bitter medicine.

  She drew away from the mirror, as she heard her parents’ voices from the other room. They were talking about the Austrians’ visit, her mother’s indignant voice resounding amongst the clatter of pots and pans, her father’s warm and resigned answers mingled with hammer blows as he was repairing a chair.

  “Can you explain – why did they have to stop here? Anyway we are just beasts of burden to them, and although we are the main population of the country, we can’t even decide our own fate! So why on Earth did they have to stop here?”

  “Who can tell – maybe they just wanted to remind us of their existence, of their strength, of the fact that if we ever try to riot we can be smashed like ants! You saw with your own eyes; compared to them we were just insignificant!

  By the way, I saw Dorina, Livia’s friend, today. She had a child recently, and her face seemed lean and hungry. Please prepare some food and put it in a basket, as a gift!”

  “All right, I’ll send Livia by later with something!” answered the priest’s wife in a bored tone. Lately her husband’s demands for helping people had increased in number. She also knew, but pretended not to, that the priest would sometimes take food from the pantry and carry it all by himself to the needy and starving.

  “Oh, Livia!” Catrina said, entering her daughter’s room. “You made a good impression, you looked very beautiful, the apple of your mother’s eye!" she continued, stroking her daughter’s hair.

  “Would you like to take Dorina a basket of food? Your father saw her today, and she seemed a bit hungry!”

  “Of course, Mother” agreed Livia, even though she was feeling a bit tired.

  # # #

  Dorina was her childhood friend, and she hadn’t visited her yet even though she had already been in the village for more than a week. She knew that her friend had married and was perhaps a little afraid she would find a new Dorina, an estranged person.

  She also knew the time of strolling through the woods and sharing fairy tales about bewitched princes and enchanted knights was all in the past now.

  Never again would they laughingly embroider roses on tablecloths or on the peasant blouses hidden in the dowry chest.

  Dorina had grown impatient. Perhaps ceased to believe in fairy tales, she had accepted the first man who had asked for her hand in marriage - only to find herself abandoned in an empty house with a newborn child in her arms.

  She had joined the ranks of the women now, and their friendship could never return to what it had been before; there would be no more princes, no fairy tales, not even ones about young blue-eyed Austrian officers passing through the village.

  Livia timidly knocked, secretly wishing Dorina wouldn’t be at home; but the door opened and there was Dorina herself, smiling. Livia gave her a compassionate look. Her face, formerly so sweet and happy, was now pale and drawn; the game she had unwittingly entered had proven to be much too rough for her. Marriage had only added new burdens to the ones she already had.

  And one of these problems, albeit a sweet and precious one, was the newborn baby in her arms.

  “Good day, Dorina. I just dropped by to see your baby!” Livia said, smiling.

  “Come in!” answered the young woman, not caring to hide the obvious poverty of the house.

  “He is so pretty and looks exactly like you!” Livia said, enchanted by the little one‘s purity and delicacy. With large and astonished blue eyes the child was moving his little hands aimlessly, up and down, up and down. Livia took him in her arms and then cast her eyes around the room, looking for a place to sit.

  A shadow crossed her face as she took in the misery which was so obvious everywhere in the small house. The walls were peeling in the winter’s wetness, the simple plank bed was covered with a counterpane which seemed to have been made hundreds of years ago. The awfulness of the room was made even worse by the child’s laughter, the small pink body totally out of place in such surroundings.

  As if able to read her thoughts, the little boy burst into noisy tears, and Livia surrendered him to his mother’s loving arms once more. As soon as he felt the mother’s touch the child grew quiet, searching for the milk-engorged breast Dorina had extracted from her large peasant blouse and greedily starting to nurse from it.

  Livia looked with delight upon the idyllic tableau, as her friend was filling her in on the latest village gossip, but with great care not to mention anything about her marriage.

  The child suckled noisily, his small hand possessively on the mother’s breast and his eyes gazing into her eyes. He carefully and seriously watched her, as if able to understand all the words, as if every word was meant only for him. And indeed, as she was sitting here with her son in the crook of her arm, happy, Dorina gave the impression she was talking just for his benefit.

  While her friend was thus busy with the child, Livia, for her part, was watching her. She took in the perfectly flawless, pearly teeth, the long blond hair hanging in thick tresses on her back, the blue eyes and freckled face. She wondered how much more would destiny suffer her to look thus. In a few years she would be already old. The nursing child would sap all her strength, her teeth would fall, her hair lose its shine, her back bend under countless hardships. Nothing would be left of the energetic young girl who used to sing like a nightingale as she ran over hill and vale.

  Sensing her friend did not need her any more, Livia rose and smilingly took her leave, under the pretext of urgent businesses awaiting her at home.

  She looked at the child once more, then she headed for the door, feeling troubled. The little boy’s blue eyes had reminded her of Edward.

  As she left the small cottage, she breathed deep of the clean fresh air, taking in nature’s unspoiled purity. She closed the door behind her decidedly, as if leaving all her past behind. Her teenage years were over, as her childhood had already been.

  A new day was awaiting her too, and whether it woul
d be sunny or stormy, who could ever say?

  Chapter 3

  At set hour for their date, it seemed as if love was also present in the shady meadow; it floated in the air and spilled on the ground. It generously spilled over all kinds of beings; over the birds and the bees, over the little bugs hiding in the grasses. It somehow seemed to get ready to slowly seep into Livia's as yet untouched soul, too.

  Without having the slightest idea about what destiny had in store for her, she slowly walked towards the shady meadow, drawing aside the branches which stood in her way .

  And when Edward, smiling, suddenly sprang from behind a fir tree and caught her waist in his strong arms, she instantly forgot all her revenge plans. The hardships her people endured, the ragged and uneducated children –they all faded away as she was riveted by the young man's blue eyes.

  Barely able to breathe, prey to emotions she had never before felt, incapable to oppose his impetuous gesture, she answered his smile with her own – sincere, happy, telling him she had given in to him, she had now made peace with him forever. She was surprised to note that she felt neither ashamed nor fearful. It seemed right to just sit here, with her waist encircled by his arm, as if they had known each other since the world began, as if she had waited for him since the world began.

  Next, when his arm slowly descended from her waist and his hand delicately grasped hers, she felt a wave of fire engulf her, a pleasant and yet dangerous wave. The feeling was so strong that it left her breathless.

  She could sense the stream of blood in her arm speak to the stream of blood in his arm, telling each other thousands of secrets, and then rushing towards her madly fluttering heart.

  Holding hands, they leisurely strolled beside the little stream dancing and spluttering amongst huge green boulders covered in slippery moss. They both were silently planning in their minds how to start the conversation; showing off their virtues and hiding their faults, afraid that any wrong gesture or unthinking word might dissolve the newly-blossoming charm of the magical encounter.