Another Scandal in Bohemia (33 page)

Irene and Godfrey stood poised there, blissful as a wedding cake couple. When they saw us they waved blithely and came to the table.

I solved the mystery in one glance: Irene still wore the same gown with which she had honored the castle the previous day. I hoped that Allegra’s fright would help her overlook the extremely improper example Irene was setting her. Obviously, she’d had no occasion to yet don fresh underclothes for the day!

This lack seemed not to have affected her mood, or that of her spouse, who was in exceptionally good spirits.

“I could eat a horse!” Irene exclaimed as she sat.

“You may get your wish here, and never know it,’’ I murmured in reply.

They ordered breakfast nevertheless, and I almost wished for Casanova’s carping presence; certainly my air of dignified disapproval was having no effect In fact, they did me the extreme discourtesy of failing to notice it. Allegra, being young, had forgotten the uncertainty of the morning and its subsequent embarrassment.

“Oh, Mr. Norton, we are writhing in agony to know what transpired at the castle! Do tell us, please.”

“You are quite right to use the word ‘transpired,’” he admitted with a conspiratorial smile, glancing ’round the dining room. Due to our late arrival, the chamber was deserted, so he dispensed a quick, if cryptic, diagnosis.

“Baron de Rothschild was right. The King of Bohemia fancies himself quite a coming power in this quaint corner of the world. He seeks immediate funding to finance everything ranging from spy networks to launching a possible military adventure.”

“From Bohemia!” I demanded in disbelief.

“Hush,” Godfrey cautioned me. “The notion is quite serious to him. Nor were we alone at dinner.”

Here Irene leaned over the table to join the conversation. “An unannounced guest of a surprising nature, or so Godfrey swears, joined the King and Godfrey for dinner.” Her teasing tone was also a bit thorny.

Godfrey drew back a bit. “The King’s... associate. I understand you three saw her in the Castle earlier, and Nell and I glimpsed her at the reception. She calls herself ‘Tatyana.’ ”

I glanced indignantly at Irene, on her behalf, and was met by her understanding smile. “Odd, is it not? The Queen of Bohemia cannot be party to a dinner attended by the King and the Rothschild emissary, but this woman can. If I were Queen, such snubs should not happen!”

“Interesting, Irene?” I answered. “It is shocking. Deplorable. Even I cannot believe that King Willie has sunk so low—”

Irene’s expression warned me against further exercises of outrage, but Godfrey had already seized my comment as a fisherman might retrieve a baited hook.

“Well, Nell, you surprise me indeed when you find the King even more reprehensible than your opinion. I confess that I found little admirable in him. He is supremely arrogant, rather slow-witted, and, although a robust-looking fellow, not half as handsome as I was led to believe.”

Irene remained silent. Although her toe tapped beneath the table, only I heard or understood the sound. Her dilemma rivaled Allegra’s and mine of earlier that morning. She was not averse to her husband finding a former suitor no serious threat, but neither did she wish him to dismiss such an erstwhile interest so sweepingly. The meeting between the two men had accomplished exactly what Irene would have wished, but at the cost of her vanity. This was never an ideal outcome for one of her theatrical temperament.

Godfrey shook out his napkin as if the King were a crumb to send flying. “Much over-rated, His Majesty, Wilhelm von Ormstein, by the Rothschilds as well as by... others, including you, Nell. I am vastly disappointed. I had not thought you so impressionable at your age.”

“My age?” I objected tardily.

Irene smoldered silently. I almost searched for the hidden cigarette, but found no sign of smoke.

Godfrey’s eyes rested on Allegra with satisfaction. “One might expect an untried girl to fall victim to such royal bluff and bravado, but, believe me, Europe and the Rothschilds have little to fear from this quarter, if Wilhelm von Ormstein is behind it.”

“What of her?” Irene asked in a low, dangerously modulated voice.

“What of whom?” Godfrey said. He knew very well he had been tweaking Irene’s tail feathers unmercifully. I suspect he had grown so bold only because he had met the King on his own ground and come away unscathed.

“Her,” Irene repeated. “The one woman allowed at your dinner of state, that even queens may not attend. Tatyana.” She articulated the word with foreign flair, precisely and yet musically, so it rang like Russian grand opera.

“The King’s... toy,” Godfrey dismissed her. “He has a colossal vanity.”

“Kings generally do,” Irene responded, “and sometimes so do barristers. I suggest that if you find the King a feeble opponent, you are not regarding the most powerful piece on the board.”

He sat back. “The Queen.”

“The Queen who is not the queen. It is true that the King harbors ambitions that were alien to him eighteen months ago. What has changed since then? His marriage? Tell me that Queen Clotilde is a Lady Macbeth and we will all have a good laugh. If you wish to be an effective emissary, Godfrey, you cast the part of the power behind the throne elsewhere. Tatyana.”

“A woman is the puppet master behind the throne?” he asked with just enough reluctance to set Irene’s toe tapping again. Like Mr. Poe’s Raven, Irene’s irritable toe was an ominous harbinger of no good.

“Humor me,” she suggested in a voice of satin. “Arrange to call upon this woman in private—and soon. Today, if possible—to test my theory. Measure her as you would any opponent, rather than as a woman you view merely as a King’s amusement. And take Nell along as your secretary, for a sensible assessment.”

“Me?” I objected again. “I am to tour the Old Town with you and Allegra and—” Irene’s look was Medusa- terrible, and it silenced me in time. “—and all the native Praguers we can encounter who have witnessed the Golem’s most recent reincarnation”

“You two ladies hunt the monster of legend,” Godfrey said, “while Nell and I hunt hussies? A fair exchange, I suppose. Certainly I will examine this lady more closely. If I have overlooked her, you must credit a certain prejudice on my part to other ladies more lovely.”

He smiled around the table before letting his gaze rest on Irene. The flattery was calculated, good-natured, and slightly jibing. Irene only smiled, but she seemed content

“Why must I go with Godfrey?” I demanded when I had managed to draw Irene away from the others after breakfast by feigning a wardrobe difficulty in my room.

“You were dubious about our jaunt to the Old Town; this will be less dangerous than chasing the Golem.”

“But I shall worry about Allegra and the Queen. And you.”

“Worry rather about this Tatyana,” she said a trifle tensely.

“Irene, do you really... fear her?”

“Let us say that I fear Godfrey’s optimism.” She walked to the window to study the colorful tile rooftops of Prague. “He is like the tailor who has killed five flies with one blow, or like Jack the Giant-slayer. To his surprise, the King has not proved to be the formidable rival he feared; hence, he is over-optimistic. He even derides my past attachment. Did his cockiness now not indicate the depth of his earlier anxiety, I might be inclined to take offense.”

She turned to regard me. “I am not condemning you to accompany Godfrey, dear Nell; I am charging you to protect him. You will not take this woman for granted. You will not see her as what I was supposed to become for the King of Bohemia, a trivial ornament for a tyrant. You will watch her with unjaundiced eyes, and will keep Godfrey's vanity from blinding him.”

“Vanity,” I repeated, “is a fearful fault.”

“But understandable,” Irene said ruefully, “especially in ourselves. Watch well today, Nell. I have a suspicion that a wise witness will see much. Godfrey is a barrister, despite his current insensible state, and a clever one. I expect his call upon the mysterious Tatyana to be highly productive.”

“And will your party make much progress in tracing the Golem, Irene?”

“The Queen,” she said by way of evasion, “is the most powerful piece on the chessboard, if not in life. I think that in this case she will ultimately prove worthy of her reputation.”

“Clotilde? Please, Irene, you ask too much of one.”

She nodded, and this time there was no mistaking the grimness in her voice. “So do the Rothschilds.”

Chapter Twenty-two

AN INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMP

At least
the mysterious Tatyana kept rooms outside the castle, at the Hotel Belgrade. Somehow I saw this as more sinister than if she had been a guest in the massive royal compound on Castle Hill.

Would virtue need a respectable address?

I didn’t forget that eighteen months earlier I had lectured Irene for residing at the castle, but the King had not been married then, or even betrothed.

I was surprised by this woman’s alacrity in answering Godfrey’s note of the morning. A messenger returned a reply after luncheon, shortly before Irene and Allegra were due to leave for their foray into Old Town.

Godfrey fetched me as soon as the note arrived, and brought it to Irene and Allegra’s suite. We convened in their outer salon, where four could meet without crowding, or confronting a bed.

Irene snatched the envelope, running her fingers eagerly over the texture of the paper and lifting the missive to her nose before opening it. Allegra watched this performance with saucer-shaped eyes.

“Irene masquerades as a hunting dog on occasion,” I informed young Allegra.

Irene observed my comment then held the unopened missive before her, as a palm reader might the top of a hand.

“Viennese deckle parchment notepaper, as thick as tough pastry. An odor of... iris and old roses,” she declared portentously, fingering the heavy envelope. “Two sheets, because Madame Tatyana’s handwriting is bold and greedy, consuming ink and paper in great, bounding loops. No seal: she has no surname of which to boast. Besides, she wastes no time on empty ritual, particularly if it could untidy her manicure. You will find some bizarre personal token enclosed within, as an insignia.”

She presented the envelope to Godfrey over the support of her opposite wrist, as a man’s second would offer
him
a dueling pistol.

“Most civil of you to allow me first reading rights,” he noted to Irene.

Godfrey slit the envelope with the fruit knife, then skimmed the contents.

“Was I correct?” she demanded.

With a smile, he turned the first page so we all could view it. Black ink stormed the paper, almost gusting off the deckle edges. There were indeed two sheets, and between them something that slipped to the carpet.

Allegra bent quickly to retrieve it. “A pink tulle rose, as could have fallen from a corsage decoration! How pretty!”

“So pretty that you may have it,” Irene declared, smiling to see her prediction proven. “The formidable Tatyana has another side: she is formidably sentimental. An interesting blend of characteristics. I am sure that Godfrey has no need to retain another woman’s tokens.”

“Assuredly not,” he said hastily. “Nor need I keep her communications to myself. A simple invitation to ‘late tea at five.’ What do you make of it, Irene? No doubt I am missing some nuance.”

Irene eyed the pages in turn, shuffling them back and forth, studying the penmanship like a doctor his patient. “A most... diabolical swoop to the crosses on her
t
’s. Quite lethal.” She frowned. “As for the import, she obviously is previously engaged for tea, yet makes immediate room to see you later, I wonder what she will serve? An interesting quandary for any hostess, but I have no doubt that she will solve it by five.

“Does she suspect Nell’s presence? No. Does she suspect anything? Possibly. The text is perfectly acceptable for a King’s mistress who is welcoming one who could benefit her master, or perhaps herself. Go, my children, and find out more. Meanwhile, Allegra and I will potter around Prague and no doubt have a dull time of it.”

“Perhaps you will return before Nell and I must leave,” Godfrey suggested.

“I fear not,” Irene said with regret. I suspected that she would be responsible for the Queen’s discreet exit and return to Prague Castle, no easy task even for a sleight-of-self artist like Irene.

“Watch the woman,” she told Godfrey sternly in farewell, turning to me to silently impress the same command upon my conscience.

Then she gathered Allegra in her train and we all vacated the chamber—the two to sally forth, myself to my room to catch up on my diary, Godfrey to more tiresome rounds of the banks, seeking information on the King’s finances. With the Rothschild credentials, all doors—including those of many imposing vaults—were open to him. I could see that he liked that excessively much.

Frankly, I spent the afternoon moping over my diary. I missed Allegra’s cheering company, and, furthermore, had decided that Irene had chosen the better part in leading Allegra and Clotilde into a “Queen’s holiday” in the Old Town. Suppose they should encounter news of the Golem? I longed to know what Godfrey and I had seen. I was eager to know if it actually was some form of supernatural being, whether wrongfully called up or not. Few in this world are permitted to glimpse the supernatural, either in the form of good or evil. I am not so unimaginative that I do not wish to know whether I have done so or not.