They Were Counted (25 page)

Gyeroffy stood silently at his place. The men thought that he was counting how many brace they were laying at his feet; but he did not even see them, his heart was beating too fast.

To Laszlo it seemed that the late afternoon was filled with a mysterious scent.

 

It was dark before the shooting party reached the castle. In the drawing-room a lavish tea was served, but no one stayed long. Excuses were made that they must dress for dinner, and so they all retired to their rooms. But the truth was that after such a tiring day everyone was exhausted.

T
HE PRINCESS WAS READY FOR DINNER
long before the ladies who had gone out with the guns. She had had her hair dressed for the evening before she came into the drawing-room for tea so that when she returned to her own rooms she only had to change her dress.

‘Ask the Duchess Klara to come to me when she is dressed,’ she said to her German maid as soon as the finishing touches had beeen put to her gown and jewellery. The maid hurried away leaving the princess alone at her dressing table. When the woman had left the room she rose and moved over to the sofa that stood at the foot of the great State bed. It was from this sofa that Princess Agnes ruled the family. She always sat there when either her husband or children gave trouble or needed advising as to their conduct. She would issue a summons to this spot and they would come to it. No one knew whether she had chosen the place by chance or whether she realized quite consciously that her authority was underlined by the fact that sitting there in the
centre
of a vast expanse of formal satin upholstery she had a hieratic advantage over her visitor who must either stand submissively
before
her, or walk up and down, or take a seat on one of the small chairs with which the room abounded. It was a strategic position and it was generally felt that she knew it.

The princess waited, and, as she did so, she recalled just how much planning and hard work she had devoted to arranging a marriage between Montorio and her stepdaughter. Early in the spring, before they moved to Vienna for the Derby and the racing season, she had persuaded a mutual friend to mention the idea to the Prince’s mother. When she arrived in Vienna she had
immediately
given a lavish garden party at the Kollonich Palais to which were invited only those guests whose presence would prove to Princess Montorio – who had been born a Bourbon-Modena – that both families had equal standing in Viennese high society, the ‘Olympus’, as the inner circle of ruling families was known and to which only those to be found in Part Two of the
Almanach
de
Gotha
, and not all of them, were accepted. The party, which had been a great success, had also been extremely expensive, as the princess had thought it necessary to redecorate certain State rooms which had not been used since the death of the Sina
grandmother
, to re-lay the elaborate parquet floors, to install a
quantity
of modern plumbing and to wire the huge gardens with electric light. She had also filled the whole place with displays of imported tropical flowers. Not that the princess minded this
lavish
expenditure – though Louis Kollonich had not stopped
nagging
her about it for months afterwards – for it had certainly achieved the desired effect of strengthening the social position of the Kollonich family to the point at which the ladies of the
Olympus
seemed to greet her with added deference. Soon after the party Princess Montorio herself mentioned the idea of a marriage between her son and Klara.

Since then the two ladies had corresponded and met
frequently
. Each praised the qualities of their candidate and the Princess Kollonich had indirectly let the Princess Montorio know that even though Klara’s portion from her mother was only modest the ‘good’ Louis Kollonich would provide an ample dowry to be paid over in full on the day of her marriage.
Naturally
none of this had been discussed openly – it had been
conveyed
discreetly by the good offices of their mutual friends, as God forbid that anything so vulgar as money should be
mentioned
between them – and this left the ladies free to dwell only on such subjects as praise of character, kindness, good manners, health, love beauty and, of course, breeding.

The inevitable understanding had been reached and the Prince Montorio had been asked to shoot at Simonvasar. Although the young man was no sportsman, this would give him unrivalled
opportunities
to make the formal proposal his mother had made clear he was now ready to do.

And what had happened? Quite ostentatiously Klara had seemed to ignore his presence! Not once during the first day’s shoot had she visited him at his stand; indeed she had joined everyone but him, and this despite the fact that Klara had been told distinctly that this handsome, elegant and eligible young man had been invited for her sake alone. Such contrary
behaviour
could spoil everything and undo all that hard work and
expense
! If it were allowed to go on, this most desirable suitor would go away feeling he was not wanted; and then his ancient name, his title, his immense fortune and acceptable good looks would soon get scooped up by some worthless girl and all their plans would be for nothing.

With this passing through her mind Princess Agnes waited for her stepdaughter. She wanted to warn and admonish her before it was too late. Not, of course, that she would mention all the
planning
that had led up to the present moment – no young girl would take kindly to the idea that her happiness had needed planning – but she would have to be told how thoughtless it was for her to behave in this way and so jeopardize the best offer she was ever likely to get!

 

The princess knew she was right. She was conscious that she wished only the best and most suitable and splendid future for Klara, whom she loved every bit as much as she did her own children. This made it even more important for her to intervene.

The door opened, and Klara came in, freshly bathed, in deep
décolleté
,
all pink and sweet-smelling.

‘You have asked for me, Mama?’ she said, and sat down
opposite
her.

Klara was very fond of her stepmother, who was the only mother she had ever known, her own dying at her birth. She had been two years old when her father had married again and this handsome dark-haired lady, ‘Mama’ in her earliest memories, though she could be severe, had always been kind to her, perhaps even more so than she had been to her own children.

‘My sweet!’ When she was angry the princess invariably began with this endearment. ‘Why are you neglecting Montorio? Oh, yes you have! You’ve been avoiding him all the afternoon.’

‘Mama, I didn’t avoid him. It just happened, really! Anyway I did spend some time at his stand.’

She hesitated; then seeing her stepmother’s stern look, she
faltered
and gave herself away. ‘I … Anyway I’ll be sitting next to him at dinner tonight. I thought that would be enough!’

‘You will sit next to him at dinner because I arranged it like that, even though your Uncle Antal could take offence as it should really be Magda’s place, not yours. Montorio knows this perfectly well, so it makes it worse that you neglect him and don’t even seem to notice his presence. Don’t deny it! You made a point of avoiding him at the shoot, and that’s a fact!’ She paused, and then went on: ‘You avoided him most conspicuously. You went to everyone else, even to Laci! This is absurd! To Laci, throughout the whole of the last beat and that a double one, and Montorio was next to him. It couldn’t have been more obvious and more
insulting
! You cold-shouldered the man who only came here for your sake and who had even asked your father for an invitation so that he could meet you.’

The girl’s ocean-grey eyes darkened. That scoundrel Niki must have sneaked, she thought, and she remembered all her grievances against him throughout her childhood, how he had invariably told tales about her to the governesses and to her stepmother. All these old sadnesses now rose up to reinforce her present distress and she replied, her voice hardening:

‘Every move I make,’ but here she paused as she did not want to go on ‘your spies report to you’, so she changed it to ‘Every move I make is difficult to explain.’

Just for a moment storm clouds had seemed to gather between the two women; but these were dispelled when Klara changed what she had been going to say.

Princess Agnes said drily: ‘That’s why I have to think for both of us!’ Now she changed her tone. The time for harshness was past. The girl had realized that she could not pull the wool over her stepmother’s eyes and that was enough. Now was the time for frankness and common-sense. In a friendly and down-to-earth manner the princess started to explain what an eminently
satisfactory
choice Montorio would be. She enumerated his virtues, how nice he was, how he had no vices like drink or gambling, how he worked hard managing his family’s vast estates in Carinthia. She spoke of his great town house in Vienna on the Herrenstrasse, of his close relationship to the most important families, how his mother was a real Bourbon and not one of those trumped-up
morganatic
branches that gave themselves such airs. Their ages were right, too, Montorio being only thirty-two. It was rare in life to find, just at the right moment, a
parti
so suitable in every way. She ended up:

‘Your father will give you an ample dowry so you wouldn’t be dependent on your husband. Really, Klara, everything would be for the best! Why you’d be the first lady of Vienna!’

Klara got up, turned away slightly and walked a few steps. She was searching for an answer that would sound convincing.

‘Yes, Mama. Everything you say is true, of course, but
somehow
… well, I don’t know.’

‘What do you mean, you don’t know?’

‘Somehow, in spite of all that … I don’t want it!’

‘Why ever not?’

‘Somehow …’ and she spread out her arms in a wide gesture, wiggling her fingers in the air as if trying to clutch at the right word to express the confusion of her thoughts, ‘Somehow I’m just not interested.’

The princess moved her still beautiful if somewhat massive shoulders in a little shrug of disdain. ‘Not interested? Why not, may I ask? He is very elegant and very handsome. What’s more, he’s in love with you!’

‘Perhaps … but I’m not interested,’ repeated the girl, happy to have found even this inadequate reply.

‘Strange! Almost unnatural in the young healthy girl!’ Then, as a new suspicion crossed her mind, ‘You’re not in love with
anyone
else, are you? Then I’d understand.’

‘Oh, no, Mama. How could you?’ replied Klara, a little too quickly, and then, to correct the impression such a swift denial might have, she went on, ‘but I could never decide … I wouldn’t want to decide, not so quickly and so suddenly. It’s such a great decision!’

‘But you don’t have to decide yet! Of course not! But in the mean time do show just a little interest. Keep him warm. I don’t have to tell you that he’ll only propose when you want him to. That always depends on us women!’ And she laughed softly, with feminine superiority. Then she rose and went to her stepdaughter, put her arms round her and kissed her. Her voice became warm and cajoling:

‘My darling little Klara! I only want the best for you when I tell you these things. You must remember that such a chance as this doesn’t come twice. Young men today don’t seem to think much of marriage; they’re getting almost cunning, and if you miss this chance? You’re past twenty-three, don’t forget, and it’s high time you were married. Isn’t it so, my little Klara?’

Her last words were spoken softly and lightly, but they were meant to tell. And her laugh, equally light, was as full of warning as it was of practical feminine wisdom.

Klara blushed but did not answer.

‘You promise you’ll be nice to him?’

‘All right! I promise! Only that! Nothing more.’ Her hand turned the knob and as she went out the princess called after her:

‘Your father wants this very much too!’

Klara went out and closed the door. The older woman’s last words had spoiled in an instant any effect that their talk might have had, because Klara knew from long experience that her father only did what his wife wanted and that everything always happened in the way the princess had decided; though by that time the prince had usually decided it was what he had always wanted. What worried Klara was that if her father did not get what he had come to believe was his own will he could become very angry indeed.

Why must she menace me with Papa? thought Klara
mutinously
as she descended the stairs, though by the time she reached the bottom step she had consoled herself with the thought that she had only promised to tolerate Montorio’s courting. She had not bound herself to anything that might affect … No! She could not harm anyone by that!

And so that evening, she flirted lightly with Montorio at dinner and afterwards: and on the last two days of the shoot she often went to stand beside him.

But she did not allow things to go any further.