Dennis Wheatley - Duke de Richleau 07 (33 page)

In the first
light of the summer dawn, De Richleau saw his visitor off in a night-hawk cab,
then he went thoughtfully up to bed.

When he awoke,
the sun was shining through the chinks of the heavy curtains and he found that
it was close on eleven o’clock. Unhappily, he recalled his midnight interview
and the new commitment with which it had landed him: but he quickly decided
that as there was over a fortnight still before he could take any steps in the
matter, the less he thought about it the better. Moreover, he had other urgent
affairs to occupy him; for to have Königstein in a fit state to entertain the
Heir Apparent there in twelve days time was no light undertaking.

After sending
off a telegram to his steward, to meet him at the castle on Sunday afternoon,
his first requirement was to secure a suitable staff, and in this he sought
Frau Sacher’s help. Although it was Saturday, she enabled him to interview a
butler, a chef and a housekeeper that afternoon, all of whom he engaged on her
recommendation. To them he left the task of engaging underservants required in
their respective departments, with instructions that they and their teams
should report for duty at Königstein on the following Tuesday.

Next, he had to
find a lady who would act as official hostess for him— nominally to be
responsible for the comfort of his women guests and take charge of his female
staff. The problem was not easy as he would normally have chosen one of several
old friends, but all of them were women whom he knew would be averse from
openly associating themselves with an entertainment given for Sophie von
Hohenberg. But on pondering the matter, he recalled a Countess Prava who had
been a friend of his father’s, and whom he had met again recently. She was of
good birth and at one time had been a great beauty, but had not married till
comparatively late in life, and then to a Czech who, some years later, had gone
bankrupt and committed suicide. Now, in greatly reduced circumstances, she was
endeavouring to keep up appearances and bring out two daughters. Unforeseen
objections apart, she seemed the very person for the role, as she was
grande dame
in her own right, but had Czech associations and
should welcome a party for her girls of the sort that she could not possibly
afford to give. The Duke promptly dispatched a note to her by hand, asking if
he might call upon her the following morning.

At mid-day he
presented himself to his father’s old flame. On his explaining matters, and
tactfully intimating that he would be responsible for the dressmaker’s bills of
the Prava ladies for the occasion, the Countess at once expressed her
willingness to act for him, and they proceeded to draw up a provisional list of
guests for submission to the Archduke.

De Richleau
calculated that the castle would accommodate about thirty guests, in addition
to themselves; but from his boyhood he had known a number of families in the
neighbourhood and felt he could rely on them to put up a further fifty or so
for the night of the dance. With these neighbours, the list ran to just over a
hundred, and included, besides the suites of Franz-Ferdinand and Ilona Theresa,
Conrad von Hötzendorf, Count Tisza, Count Hoyos, and a number of other
prominent personalities.

That afternoon,
the Duke left for Königstein to undertake a herculean labour. It was several
years since he had even visited the castle, let alone lived in it for any
length of time, and he knew that many of the rooms had not been occupied since
his father’s day; so he dreaded the state in which he might find them. His only
comfort was that he had always allocated a reasonable amount from the revenues
of the estate to the upkeep of the castle, and when he arrived there he found
to his relief that his steward had not misapplied them.

The castle was
picturesquely situated on a bend in the Danube. Its pointed turrets rose two
hundred feet above the river, but a large part of it had been modernized, and
from a terrace on its south side gardens sloped down to the water’s edge.

A thorough
inspection showed that the roofs of the building had been kept in good repair,
and damp prevented from penetrating the walls by the occasional lighting of
fires in all the principal rooms in winter. But the place was much too large
for the caretaker and his family, who were its only permanent occupants, to
keep properly cleaned. Coverings protected most of the best furniture, but
little clouds of dust puffed up round their feet as they walked across the
carpets of the upstairs rooms, and in some places mice had battened unchecked
on hangings and materials.

De Richleau
congratulated his people on matters being no worse after his long absence, but
said that within a week every room in the castle must be spotless. He told his
steward that servants would be arriving to help on Tuesday, and in the meantime
at least a hundred men and women must be mustered from the estate to start next
day on a thorough spring cleaning.

On the Monday
morning he was up himself by six, and as soon as the emergency cleaners arrived
organized them into groups for various duties. Great cauldrons of water were
boiled in the laundry for washing covers and curtains; scores of carpets were
carried out into the grounds, hung on ropes and beaten; twenty women were put
to scrubbing floors, and another twenty to polishing furniture. The place was a
bedlam, a fog of dust and a sea of soapy water; but through it all the Duke
moved as quietly and efficiently as if he were directing a battle; and by
Tuesday afternoon, when the professional servants arrived, although a host of
matters still required attention, order was beginning to emerge out of chaos.

First thing on
Wednesday, he set off in a hired car on a round of visits to his neighbours.
Some were away from home, but those whom he found in residence were delighted
to hear that Königstein was to be opened up again, and that the Heir Apparent
was shortly to come there on a visit. Only one stuffy old lady declined to meet
the Duchess of Hohenberg; the others readily accepted, and willingly agreed to
put up some of De Richleau’s guests.

That evening he
returned to Vienna and, after dinner, called at a first-class livery stable,
where he selected a handsome bay mare for the following morning. Half past
seven next morning saw him mounted on her and riding out towards the Prater.
Just under the railway bridge, near the main entrance to the six square miles
of park and playgrounds, he pulled up, and sat waiting eagerly to see again the
lovely girl, for a few hours of whose company he was putting himself to such
vast labour and expense. From the bridge ran the splendid
Hauptallee
that intersected the Prater lengthways, so he felt
confident that in whatever part of the park Ilona meant to ride she would enter
it that way.

Soon after eight
she arrived, but in a carriage and pair, with Paula von Wolkenstein beside her
and Adam Grünne opposite. On seeing the sulky-faced little Baroness, De
Richleau swore under his breath, looked quickly away and made no move to draw
attention to himself. As he was in the shadow of the bridge he hoped that she
had not noticed him loitering there. When the carriage had passed, he turned
his mount and followed it at a discreet distance, praying that Ilona’s horses
were waiting for her a mile or so farther along the avenue, and that when she
was mounted he would have a better chance of appearing to run into her by
accident.

As he rode along
he now had the
Wurstelprater
on his left. It was a big area devoted to a
permanent fair-ground, with merry-go-rounds, marionette theatres, scenic
railways, grottoes, a dozen restaurants and a score of booths, where the
Viennese enjoyed themselves by the thousand on Sundays, and took their children
up in the great wheel to see the panorama of their lovely city. Then, to the
right and left spread the Prater gardens, with innumerable walks shaded by fine
trees and gay with flower-beds set in green lawns. On one side lay a chain of
lakes and on the other rose the vast
Rotunde
which
periodically housed Vienna’s exhibitions.

On that morning
in early June there were as yet few people about, but the scene breathed the
essence of happiness, security and pleasure. It seemed difficult to believe
that the brutalized armies of hostile invaders had camped there more than once;
yet the black thought crossed De Richleau’s mind that in the dark future, which
now seemed to loom so close ahead, they might soon do so again.

It was not until
Ilona’s carriage reached the end of the gardens opposite the stadium, that it
drew up, and there, as the Duke had hoped, grooms were waiting with horses for
her party. When they were mounted, he continued to follow at a distance for
another half mile. As they turned off on to the open parkland that now bordered
the long avenue on either side, he did likewise and, putting his mare into a
canter, set off in a wide semi-circle which would presently bring him round
face to face with them.

He rode straight
at the group until he was within fifty yards of it; then, as though suddenly
recognizing Ilona, swept off his hat and swerved his mare away in deference to
her approach. But she had already been watching him for some minutes, and now
called to him to come to her.

As they halted,
barely a yard apart, he thought, as always on seeing her afresh, that there
could be no one lovelier. The early morning air had whipped her fresh
complexion into milk and roses, and her deep blue eyes were sparkling in the
sunshine. But the Baroness Paula was too close at hand for them to exchange a
word in private.

Ilona greeted
him as though they had not met since they had danced together at the Czernins,
and asked how he was enjoying his stay in Vienna. That at least gave him the
opportunity of informing her of the progress of his secret plan, as he was able
to say that he had been absent from the capital for some days, preparing his
castle at Königstein for a party on the 10th and 11th, which His Imperial
Highness the Archduke Franz Ferdinand and the Duchess of Hohenberg had consented
to honour with their presence.

Having expressed
her interest, she asked him if he often rode in the Prater, and when he replied
that he did so every morning when in Vienna, she graciously informed him that
he might join her party now if he wished, and on any future occasion that he
chanced to see it. Then she rode on with the fair little Baroness beside her,
while he dropped back beside Adam Grünne.

The dark,
square-shouldered Count greeted him in a very friendly fashion, but as soon as
the ladies were out of earshot he said, with a worried air: “You know, Duke, I
have no wish to interfere in your affairs, but I beg you most earnestly to
leave Vienna. Otherwise, this flirtation of yours with the Archduchess can only
end in serious trouble.”

De Richleau was
feeling on the top of his form, and replied with a laugh: “If it were merely a
flirtation, my dear Count, I would take your advice. But you are the one man to
whom I can freely confess that if I had to leave Vienna, I would leave behind
my heart.”

“I am sorry to
hear that, but it does not affect the fact that sooner or later your secret
pursuit of her is bound to be remarked.”

“Why should it
be, if I use all possible discretion?”

Count Adam’s
brown eyes were full of foreboding as he answered: “Because she has an
impulsive nature and lacks your experience in concealing her thoughts. If she
continues to regard your attentions merely as an amusement, you may escape. But
the danger is that she may fall in love with you. Should that happen, she is almost
certain to commit some folly which will lead to your ruin and disgrace.”

For a moment the
Duke could find no reply, then he said: “Supposing that our positions were
reversed—that you were in my shoes and Fraulein Sárolta was the
Archduchess—would you then leave Vienna?”

“You’ve got me
there,” grinned the Count. “Of course I shouldn’t.”

On that the
conversation ended, as Ilona had just set off at a gallop, and the rest of them
were hard put to it to keep up with her, even for a few hundred yards. The little
Baroness soon dropped behind and Count Adam, although better mounted than the
Duke, purposely let him get a lead; so that when Ilona reined in near the
Lusthaus
right at the far end of the
Hauptallee,
he was only a length behind her.

Turning in her
saddle, she said quickly: “Not to-morrow. Sárolta is indisposed. Come on
Saturday.” Then the thunder of hooves drowned his swift assent as the others
caught up with them.

The
Lusthaus
had once been an Imperial hunting lodge, but was now a
café, and at it the two ladies drank glasses of milk while still seated in
their saddles. Then the party cantered back along a ride parallel with the
avenue, to the place where the carriage was waiting. There, with a few polite
words, Ilona dismissed the Duke, and he watched her drive away until she was
out of sight.

That day and the
next he spent in a fever of activity, making a hundred preparations for the
party. Frau Sacher helped him with the menus, and promised that her own chefs
should provide a score of special dishes; but dozens of different foods had to
be ordered elsewhere; also wines, cigars and flowers. He engaged a famous dance
band and cars to transport them, bought two hundred pounds worth of fireworks
and dispatched half a dozen skilled men to Königstein to start erecting the set
pieces; then hired a big pleasure steamer for a water picnic on the Danube, and
a stable full of horses for riding. In addition, feeling that the hangings,
covers and cushions in some of the rooms badly needed renewing, he bought hundreds
of yards of fine materials and had them sent out with seamstresses, to be made
up on the spot.