Csardas (36 page)

Oh, what a difference Mr. Klein made to everyone! The room seemed full and yet there was only one extra person there. Mama was smiling and running from drawing-room to kitchen to superintend the goulash—oh, the shame, to offer peasants’ food to Mr. Klein!—Eva was bright and vivacious, and even Malie felt the old stir of fascinated interest that she remembered from Mr. Klein’s last visit.

Mr. Klein and Papa spent the afternoon in the study, and when they came out Papa was still confident, although now his confidence was more controlled, more orderly and systematic.

The goulash was apologized for, but even so there was a festive note about the table. There were candles and flowers and some wine that Papa had saved for a special occasion. Mr. Klein toasted Mama and Amalia and Eva and then the entire family.

“And soon, madame,” he said smoothly to Mama, “when the world is once more tranquil, you will be giving little parties, little occasions for your daughters, yes?” His lazy brown eyes slid from Mama to Eva, from Eva to Amalia. “Your daughters are very beautiful. Soon, very soon, the young men will come to take them away.”

Papa, in an unusually expansive mood, picked up Eva’s hand and caressed it with his own. “They have already come for this little one,” he said benignly. “I think Eva already has a suitor, do you not, my dear?”

Eva flushed prettily and managed to look embarrassed and gratified at the same time. Mr. Klein stared hard at Eva; then his gaze moved to Malie and she felt the assessing eyes wandering over her hair, her face, her body.

“Indeed,” murmured Mr. Klein. “Is an old friend permitted to ask—”

“Oh, no, Papa! Please. You know nothing is settled. We must not talk about it yet.”

Mr. Klein raised his hand in the air and smiled. “A secret, of course, and we must not pry, Zsigmond. The young must be left to enjoy the delicacy of their emotions alone.” Back and forth wandered the speculative gaze, from bright, dark-eyed, glowing little Eva with her pouting chin and provocative breasts to Amalia, serene and graceful but quiet, so quiet.

Papa laughed. “Perhaps she is right, my friend. It is too soon to discuss, but”—his voice deepened—“I am happy for her. The young man is a splendid choice. The family will gain nothing but credit from Eva’s match.”

“Oh, Papa!” She smiled and blushed. How lovely it was to be the centre of attention, and for such a happy reason. If everything that Mr. Klein said was true, if the country was going to be at peace once more, if better times were coming, perhaps Felix would feel that at last he could ask her to marry him.

The evening ended happily, on a note of hope that none of them had experienced for a long, long time. The next morning Mr. Klein took Eva and Malie out for a little drive in his pony cart, and the following day, because the boys had loitered in the yard looking envious, he took just Malie and the boys.

Somehow, in spite of the times, Mr. Klein managed to find gifts, welcome gifts of a goose, of eggs and cream, that he presented to Mama with such graciousness she could hardly refuse. It was difficult to refuse Mr. Klein anything. It always seemed to happen—in a lazy, gentle way—that one was doing exactly what Mr. Klein intended. And because Mr. Klein always wanted to go for drives, or for leisurely strolls, or to drink coffee at the Franz-Josef, that was what they did. And increasingly, because Eva did not always want to come if Felix was visiting, Amalia and Mama went out with Mr. Klein on their own. It was pleasant, and entertaining, and... disquieting.

When Mr. Klein left, everything was flat and drab for a little while, but the hope he had brought remained. The Romanians occupied much of the country now, but rumour said that it was only a prelude to the establishment of a permanent government. And, after all, the Romanian officers were not so bad; they came into the town and were handsome and quiet and well-behaved.

When the flowers arrived from Mr. Klein no one was surprised. But Eva stared a little at the baskets. Pink roses for her and Mama, and red ones for Malie. Malie refused to discuss why she had been treated differently and later, in the bin in the yard, Eva saw that the red roses had been thrown away.

“And so,” said Aunt Gizi, “we thought we should have the wedding at the end of the summer, up at the villa. We shall give a party for the farm labourers as well. It seems at last that the country is settled and at peace, and Kati’s wedding shall be the occasion of a double celebration!”

She spoke quickly to try and hide the fact that for twenty minutes, ever since she had broken the news, no one had spoken. Amalia looked stunned and incredulous, Marta Bogozy puzzled, and Eva—Eva was just sitting, her face completely drained of colour and the pupils of her eyes frozen to tiny points of darkness. What bothered her most, though, was her brother. Zsigmond was staring at her with a face of compressed fury. His nose suddenly seemed extraordinarily thin and prominent in his now pinched face.

“Madame Kaldy has already put the repairs and refurnishing of the manor house in hand,” she went on, deliberately not looking at anyone and trying to chatter happily, the way any mother of a newly betrothed girl would. “Naturally we shall invest a little money in the manor, such a beautiful old house. It is, after all, to be the home of our little girl and we shall try to make it as splendid as we can.”

She began to feel she would scream if someone didn’t speak soon. Alfred was no help either; he just stood by the window and fiddled with the blind. When he wasn’t looking smug he was looking bored.

“I never believed, Marta,” she said desperately, trying anything to gain a response, “that our little Kati would be married before your daughters. It seemed inevitable, from when they were very small, that Eva and Amalia would naturally be married first.”

Mama finally managed to rouse herself from incomprehension. “It is so... surprising, Gizi! No one, not one of us, had any idea that Felix and Kati were growing close to one another. Friends, yes; we have all been friends together for many years, but—”

“Ah, yes!” Gizi interrupted with heightened colour. “Well, of course, since the war—for the first year after the war—Felix had to work hard here, in the town. And we were mostly in the country, so no one really saw them together. But lately, since things have become settled, Felix—and Madame Kaldy—have paid several visits to us and Felix has taken Kati out on several occasions. Hasn’t he, Kati?”

Kati nodded. She was wearing a tan jumper suit—it was new as behooved a girl just engaged—but, Kati being Kati, the suit didn’t seem to fit. It looked too large and the white linen collar stuck out awkwardly at the back of her neck. On her right hand shone a gold signet ring with a diamond embedded in a graven K. Madame Kaldy had kept her part of the bargain magnificently, even to parting with the last remaining pieces of Kaldy jewellery that she possessed.

“We could see what was happening, couldn’t we, Alfred”—Alfred grunted and continued to fiddle with the blind—“and when Kati came to us and said that Felix had proposed to her, we weren’t one little bit surprised, no, not at all.”

Kati looked more confused than any of them. Her small, colourless face hovered between a smile and tears. The smile was because her mama was being so nice to her and seemed so pleased about everything. The tears were because she felt something was wrong. She didn’t really want to marry Felix Kaldy; she had always thought of him as belonging to Eva. She had been astonished and embarrassed when, during one of their awkward and silent walks together, he had suddenly proposed to her. No one had ever proposed to her before so she had nothing to compare it with, but Felix’s stilted and pompous proposition had seemed wrong and unnatural. The atmosphere between them had been so formal and withdrawn she hadn’t liked to say no; not just like that. They had turned round and gone straight home without her making any answer at all, and then her mama had come rushing into her room, hugging her and kissing her and saying how happy she was and how happy Kati was going to be. And overwhelmed with Mama’s warmth and excitement, with the feeling that for the first time in her life she had done something right, she had succumbed to the avalanche of excitement and flurry and visits to Madame Kaldy that immediately ensued. But now, with Eva and Amalia looking so strange, she began to feel utterly miserable again. She swallowed hard and blinked, trying to fight back tears. Her mama was still chattering, rather too loudly and shrilly.

“‘As soon as the manor house is finished, Madame Kaldy will move in and leave the little farmhouse to Adam and the foreman. Felix and Kati, of course, will live with Madame Kaldy at the manor.”

Malie, in the middle of shocked sorrow for Eva, was still able to feel pity for poor Cousin Kati. Even in marriage she was not to know freedom or peace, not to have her own home. She was just exchanging Aunt Gizi for Madame Kaldy.

“Madame Kaldy has been so gracious! She intends to reopen the old house and entertain the way she used to in the old days. And our little Kati will have all the help and advice she can possibly want on how to run a big house. Madame Kaldy—Luiza—has promised to help her in every way.”

Still no one spoke and Kati, rejected by her beautiful cousins, could control herself no more. Two large tears welled out of her eyes and oozed down her cheeks. Instantly Mama was on her feet.

“Kati, my darling! Here we sit, so overwhelmed by your good news that we are too stunned to speak!” She glided lightly to Kati and kissed her warmly on both cheeks. “My child, may you have all the happiness that you deserve.”

“Thank you, Aunt Marta.”

“Yes, of course, Kati,” echoed Malie. “We hope you will be happy and we shall love to visit you in your grand manor house, shall we not, Eva?” She was trying to help Eva, to give her a chance of saving at least her pride. When Aunt Gizi had first announced the news she had been terrified that Eva would fly at Aunt Gizi, or even at poor Kati, and shriek and fight and scream. Eva was never very good at hiding her emotions. But shock had kept her silent, and now all Malie wanted was for Eva to escape from the debacle with dignity.

“Your girls will lead Kati to her wedding, Marta? It would be natural and what we all expect. Kati has no sisters; your girls are her dearest and closest friends.” And how bad it will look if they do not lead her into church, her eyes pleaded. What speculation might ensue if Kati’s beloved cousins refused to participate at her wedding.

Eva stood up. She gazed at Kati and took several deep, gulping breaths, and then suddenly she crumpled. Her shoulders and head sagged and she turned and walked towards the door, feet dragging, hands hanging loosely by her side. Everyone was quiet as they watched her open the door and leave the room. Then Mama followed unobtrusively, saying to no one in particular, “Eva has been feeling unwell all day. I expect she had gone to lie down.”

Papa stood also. His face was still white and pinched and he crossed to Gizi and said icily, “I would like to speak to you and Alfred alone, please. Shall we talk in the study?”

Alfred harrumphed by the window and began to drum his fingers against the frame. Gizi stared her brother down but then, seeing Kati hunched miserably in the corner, said, “Come, Alfred, come with me,” and swept ahead of her brother, trying to show by her manner that she had no intention of being intimidated.

Malie, alone with Kati, tried to make a pretence that everything was all right. Two attempts at bright conversation died, defeated by Kati’s obvious misery, and finally she was forced to ask, “Are you pleased, Kati? I mean, do you want to get married?”

Kati shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said pathetically. “Mama says I do. Mama says I will be very happy once I have my own home and husband.”

“But what do
you
want, Kati?” It was possible to love Kati, to feel sorry for her, and yet at the same time to be exasperated by her. Why did she never fight back?

“I don’t know what I want,” said Kati bleakly. “I suppose that’s why Mama doesn’t like me very much. And why Papa ignores me. I’ve never known what I want, except—”

“Except what, Kati?”

“Except I would like Mama to stop grumbling at me. I would like”—she paused and sighed with resignation—“I would like to be left in peace. Perhaps if I were left alone I would begin to discover what I want.”

“Do you like Felix Kaldy?” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word
love.
It was so obvious to everyone that Kati didn’t love Felix it seemed an obscenity to mention it. Kati flushed.

“I don’t really know him, Malie.”

“Then Kati, why?”

Kati’s face, a picture of misery, began to twist in anxious distress. “Oh, Malie, you know how Mama was always trying to force us together, Felix and me, and I didn’t take any notice. It was all so stupid when it was obvious that he and Eva—right from the beginning, before the war even—it was obvious they were happy and... suitable! I never even thought about it, not for me, and then suddenly Felix proposed and Mama told me how right it was that we should be married, and—oh, Malie!” She clasped her two small hands together in unhappiness. “What can I do except what Mama tells me to do? I don’t want to go and live with Madame Kaldy, but what would happen if I said no to Mama?”

The sheer, appalling disaster of it all smote Malie afresh: Eva betrayed and humiliated, Kati frightened and bewildered, Felix—who knew what Felix’s desires or emotions were, but it was certain that the present arrangements had been hatched between Aunt Gizi and Madame Kaldy.

“But Kati,” she pleaded. “You cannot marry someone just because your mama tells you to! You are casting your whole life away. If you do not know Felix, or do not like him, you must not marry him. If you marry him it means you will have to spend the rest of your life with him!”

“And if I don’t marry him,” she answered miserably, “I will have to spend the rest of my life with Mama.”

“Oh, Kati!”

Her pity for Kati began to outweigh her sympathy and indignation for Eva. In fact, secretly she was beginning to feel relieved that Eva had been rejected.

Two more large tears squeezed from Kati’s eyes and fell onto her jumper suit. “And I’m so miserable about Eva. I don’t want Eva to hate me. You and Eva, and Aunt Marta, are the nicest people I know. I don’t want Eva to stop being my friend.”