The Tale of the Vampire Bride (51 page)

As we entered the grand entrance, Vlad quickly whispered to a butler as I gawked at the sheer opulence that surrounded us. I almost felt blinded by the candlelight shimmering over the surfaces of marble and gold. Glancing back at Andrew, I saw him raise an eyebrow.

“Quite homey,” he whispered with a wink.

“For the King of England perhaps,” I whispered back.

“Count and Countess Dracula of Wallachia and Earl Andrew Wright of England,” the slender butler’s voice boomed out across the grand foyer.

The people milling about in the crowded foyer seemed to look up in unison. I could see the startled expressions clearly and a few looked positively nervous. I was beginning to feel very unwelcomed when suddenly a woman dressed in a bright red gown with a huge gold and red satin turban perched on her coiled black hair, hurried toward us. As she drew closer, I recognized her as someone I had met briefly during my family’s visit in Buda. She was quite lovely. Her eyes were as black as night and, when she drew near, I could see that her gaze was wise and full of cunning.

“Dearest Count Dracula, I am so glad you decided to come to my little party,” she gushed in a smooth, sensuous voice. Her eyes were positively glowing with delight.

“Baroness Dosza, it is my pleasure to be here. It has been a very long time since we last saw each other. Please let me introduce you to my wife and her brother from England, Earl Wright,” Vlad said in such a polite courtly manner it surprised me.

The Baroness smiled brightly, her teeth pearly white against her red lips. “Ah, the Countess Dracula. I am so glad to meet you, dearest. I know we shall be grand friends. Call me Csilla, dear one.”

“You may call me Glynis.”

“Glynis! What a charming name!” The Baroness was positively glowing. “It is slightly masculine, is it not,” she gushed. “Earl Wright, it is so very nice to see that you have joined us tonight.” The Baroness turned her charms on Andrew, her eyes bright and all seeing. “I see a bit of your father in you.”

“You have met my father?” he asked in surprise.

“Oh, yes! He was a charming man and your mother was quite lovely. I meet them at a little dinner party last year when they were visiting with Sir Stephen,” the Baroness answered. “I did not meet your darling sister that evening, but I did meet her briefly at a picnic on the banks of the Danube. Do you remember that, Glynis?”

I barely acknowledged that I did when she plunged on.

“I heard that all the young men were smitten with your sisters and that they would sure to marry well. But imagine my astonishment when I heard she had captured the eye and heart of Count Dracula! We thought he would never marry!” She flashed a dazzling smile at Vlad, then said to Andrew, “And how are your dear parents?”

“I thought everyone knew,” Andrew said softly, his gaze flicking to Vlad.

“My wife’s parents and sister were killed in a carriage accident a year ago. My wife was also injured, but has now recovered,” Vlad said smoothly.

The Baroness looked horrified, her eyes widening in shock as she clutched her hands together dramatically under her chin. “How terribly dreadful, my darling Glynis! You must have been devastated!”

“We were,” Andrew responded for me, his voice quivering.

“We were not aware that such a tragedy had occurred. This is most distressing news.”

“That is why my wife dresses in mourning. In remembrance of her parents and sister,” Vlad explained. He laid a gentle hand on my arm, and I dared to glance at him briefly. His face was drawn with concern that I knew to be false.

“What a tragic figure you are, my darling. I now understand the veil!” the Baroness declared with obvious delight. I was the tragic figure that would cause a delightful amount of dramatic gossip. Perfect for her party, I suppose. “Come, come, let me introduce you to all my fine friends. I know they will adore you.” The Baroness linked her arm with mine and cast a sparkling smile at Andrew. “Come, my darlings, let me show you off to Buda’s finest. Ah, there is Baron Bartok! I must introduce him to my newest friends.”

For the next hour, I was blissful. I adore social settings and was immediately in my element as the Baroness drew me about the enormous marble hall introducing me to all the most influential people in Buda. Her introductions were glowing, a string of poetic words making even Andrew blush with modesty. I rather liked being the dramatic, tragic figure.

It was wonderfully thrilling for me to have a taste of the life I had hated, but now craved. It had once been normal for me to be dressed up in finery greeting strangers with warmth and haughtiness combined. I had stood at my mother’s side and greeted the wealthy and the aristocratic members of society on many occasions. This was the life I had been born to and the idle small talk came naturally to me.

Andrew had picked up a smattering of Magyar during his stay and he attempted to communicate, charming many of the guests with his futile attempts. I, on the other hand, spoke flawlessly in the language of my vampire mother, Cneajna. It seemed to be a gift of the dark world of the vampires to inherit knowledge and certain aspects of your creators.

As the Baroness guided me through the maze of extravagant evening gowns and finely tailored suits, I wished sorely that I could reveal myself to these elegant people. But alas, I was held captive behind my thick veil. I struggled with the desire to rip it from my face and reveal my beauty to those around me.

Yes, yes…I can be as vain as any woman.

The Baroness fairly burst with pride as her English guests charmed the Hungarian elite.

“How lovely she is,” a man’s voice drifted above the chatter of the party.

“There you are, Emil! I wondered where you were,” Andrew called out, recognizing his friend’s voice.

The good doctor’s large frame drifted into view.

The doctor’s face broke into a wide smile and he hurried over to us. “Andrew, we were a little late. Maria tore the hem of her dress and it had to be mended. Oh, Glynis, you look quite lovely!”

“Baroness, let me introduce you to my friend from England. Dr. Emil Baum. He traveled to Buda with me,” Andrew said by way of introduction.

The Baroness smiled graciously as she accepted Emil’s bow over her hand. “How kind of you to join us tonight.”

“Emil, this is our hostess, the Baroness Dosza,” Andrew said.

“It is a pleasure to be here, Baroness,” Emil said with a surprising charm.

The Baroness retained her bright smile, nodding her head slightly, but I could see her eyes were searching the crowd.

Vlad had disappeared from my side at some point and I could not help but wonder if it was my Master that she was looking for.

A tall, lean man approached the Baroness dressed smartly in the household uniform. He was in his late thirties and intriguingly handsome with a long, slightly craggy face. His observant dark gray eyes flickered toward me as he leaned in toward his mistress. His words were indistinct but his accent was clearly British.

The Baroness nodded her head and the man quickly disappeared into the crowd. The Baroness turned to face her guests and held out her arms, immediately gaining the attention of her guests.

“Dear friends, the opera is about to begin. Let us depart for the theater and enjoy the wondrous music of my newly discovered composer, Mihaly Mikszath!”

The Baroness whirled about and the servants flung open the doors to a long hall that evidently led to the theater. The crowd surged forward, and I gripped Andrew’s arm tightly as we were swept along.

“Where is your husband?” Andrew whispered in my ear.

I glanced about, my gaze sweeping over the wave of excited guests. The dark menacing form of my Master was nowhere to be seen. As the gaily dressed guests swept past me, I searched every face.

With a sudden shock of emotion, I realized that I was desperate to find Vlad. I felt quite alone and almost lost without him. Unbelievably, without his guiding glances, I was unsure of what to do next. A fierce anger rose up within me as I rebelled against my anxiety. I immediately made up my mind that I would not be dependent on him. I was a vampire that needed no Master.

“I do not know where he went,” I finally said to my brother.

“Mayhap he crept off with Sir Stephen,” Andrew ventured. “I have not seen him either. I saw Maria, but not her husband. Probably talking business at a party.”

I glanced back into the crowd as a woman with a huge ornate turban moved past me. The soft feathers trailing from the silk folds slapped me in the face and I shrank away for a mere second. And in that second, Vlad suddenly appeared beside me.

“Let us go in. I should not want to keep the Baroness waiting,” Vlad said. He did not bother to explain his absence.

Andrew did not seem to notice that Vlad had emerged from the very air to stand behind us and I was glad for it. I did not want Andrew to even suspect that truth about our true natures.

On the arms of my brother and Master, I entered the ornate theatre of the Dosza Palace. The guests were quickly seated in the plush high-backed chairs as a small orchestra warmed up. The Baroness spotted us and smiled delightedly. Holding up one hand, she beckoned us.

“Come, come, my darlings!

I took in the down-scaled version of an opera house with its fine velvet draperies and ornate architecture. It was nothing compared to the opera houses I had visited in my travels across Europe, but it was quite nice in its quaintness. Obviously, the Baroness was quite pleased with her little opera company for she was in a state of great excitement.

There were no grand balconies for the elite to sit in high above the lesser peoples. Instead, the Baroness had a section in the front set apart for herself and her honored guests. It was here that Vlad led my brother and me. We were seated in the most wonderfully ornate and comfortable chairs and I set my fan on my lap. Sitting between my brother and Vlad, I watched with keen interest as the Baroness took the chair next to Vlad.

Leaning across my husband, she whispered breathlessly to me, “You will love this opera, my darling. It is the life of Vlad Tepes.”

My eyes narrowed beneath my veil as I glanced quickly at Vlad. Just what did the Baroness know of him? He sat beside me, stoically staring up at the darkened stage. The servants were busy extinguishing some of the candles for a darker atmosphere. I reached out and touched Vlad’s hand. He looked at me, smiling slightly. Covering my hand with his other hand, I knew he would give me no answers.

With great flourish, the composer stepped forward to describe his masterpiece. He was a small man with a very large head and hands. His eyes were too small, his nose far too large, and he seemed to almost spit his words out as he spoke. Obviously nervous, he hesitated in mid-sentence, only to repeat what he had already said.

“This opera is about…my opera…is about Vlad Tepes,” he started in a trembling voice. He cleared his throat and seemed to concentrate on enunciating every word as carefully as possible. “Vlad Tepes was a great man…a great man…in his time...a great man…”

My gaze slid toward Vlad and I saw that he was not only amused, but also incredibly pleased. As the composer forced his words out, explaining that Vlad Tepes had helped force the Turks out of Europe, Vlad nearly glowed with pride.

“And tonight…this night…among us…is another great man…among us…a descendent of a great man…Vlad Tepes…Count Vlad Dracula.”

The Baroness stood up quickly, cutting off her fumbling musician. “I wish to dedicate this wonderful opera to my dear friends, Count and Countess Dracula of Wallachia.”

There was a polite smattering of applause and the Baroness beamed with joy, her gaze falling to Vlad. He returned her smile with his own darkly sensual one.

Mihjaly Mikszath bowed and turned toward the orchestra awaiting his cue. Flamboyantly, Mihaly lifted his thin arms and the musicians straightened in their chairs. With the suddenly movement of his arms, the music swelled up in a dark wave.

It was the longest two hours of my vampire life. The opera was horrible. The music was overwrought and jolting. The notes seemed to assault my ears and jar me to vivid wakefulness if I dared to begin to doze off out of boredom. I am quite sure not one person dozed, not even in the back row. The opera singers were good enough, but the music did them no favors. The set was dark, brooding, and tasteless. I especially thought the backdrop of thousands of impaled Turks were far too vivid and grotesque.

The story was simple enough. Vlad was sent as a child by his father to be hostage to the Turks and was forced to endure terrible suffering until he finally made his way home to begin to fight for the freedom of his kingdom. He had suffered from betrayal after betrayal and he was merciless to his enemies. There was a small scene that was supposed to be a love story, but Cneajna had told me the truth. I knew that Vlad’s mortal wife, Ilona, had never held his passion. In the end, Mihaly tried to create a happy ending. Vlad was supposedly beheaded offstage as the music reached an ear piercing crescendo. Then, much to my horror, when the actor portraying Vlad emerged from behind the curtains, he was clad as a saint. As the music soared dramatically, the actor climbed up on a set of narrow stairs to what was supposed to be heaven. Two very bored looking women stood dressed as angels waiting for him at the pearly gates. As they took the actor playing Vlad into their arms and the curtain fell, I could barely hear Vlad chortling under his breath.