Nightingale (20 page)

And why else would a nobleman risk his reputation on such a display, forcing his way into cabinets at a low public ball? It was an act so desperate that it could only be done by a father in pursuit of an errant daughter – or a proud and angry man in search of a mistress! Knowing something about Klara's relationship with this man, Akos understood that in a way, tonight was both.

Looking into those eyes, it was not easy for Akos to master his own fear.

No wonder, he thought, that Giovanni Lugiati had run for his life!

"Excuse me, sir
," the Count spoke, evidently feeling that he had sufficiently taken in the situation. He and his men backed out of the cabinet.

"God damn your impertinence!" Akos leapt up and dashed through the curtains after the retreating figures. "What the hell do you mean?"

He was instantly seized by two large pairs of hands as the Count’s guards sprang into action.

"Never mind, Hungarian." The larger had Akos by the shoulders. Pushing him fiercely back between the curtains, he tossed a glittering something into the air.

"Forget it! Go back to your fun."

Akos deftly caught the coin, while stifling a desire to follow the motion through with a punch aimed straight at the fellow's hard gut. In the next instant, he was blinded, for the Count, his servants behind him, had rushed away through the same lower door the others had used to reenter the ballroom. Light blazed into his eyes as the door swung open and then, just as swiftly, closed.

Inwardly boiling, Akos turned. Olympia was sitting upright on the divan, smothering frightened laughter in her fringed gypsy shawl. Outside, chaos ruled. On every side people were cursing, screaming and running.

"Blessed Mother!" She reached for Akos' hand. "I'd give a lot to see that Aristo bastard's face when he grabs Wolfgang out there.
”

"Let us hope he does not plunge a knife into that very talented young man’s heart before unmasking him."

"Even he wouldn't dare that in a public place. And remember, Herr Concertmaster, she is at least as precious to him as his Chinese tea service."

Almassy muttered a curse under his breath. Being rescued by such a grimy subterfuge was not to his taste.

"Where has your husband taken Klara?"

"Back to her apartment, where she will tell Liese that she changed clothes with little Mozart in order to play a trick on a fellow who was following her."

"Hmm. That may deceive Liese, but what about yon gentleman? The eyes I just looked into were not those of a fool."

"You are correct, Herr Almassy. Oettingen will be suspicious, but until he understands the situation, he won't act. For one thing, this evening is not like Klara at all. She's …
well, sir," Olympia shot him a defiant look, "In spite of whatever has gone on here tonight, you must understand that in an odd way, our Klara is still an innocent. She's far too modest to come to a melee like this. Certainly she never would do – whatever it is she has done – lightly."

They left the cabinet and walked the long corridor to the door where the main entrance was. Music and the noise of the crowd came from the other side of the wall.

"I am in love with the lady, Frau Adamberger," Akos said. "My honor is engaged."

"Signor Lugiati said much the same thing. Florian and I pray you will deal with Klara honestly, Herr Concertmaster. And, by now you must know that is going to take some real courage."

"I shall marry her, with or without that gentleman's permission."

"Can you take care of her? Can you take care of yourself? We love Klara very much, and, I tell you frankly, we're both afraid. I do admit, though, I have an awful feeling that something terrible will happen to her if things stay as they are. For the past two years she has been sick in late winter, and every time it takes her longer to recover."

"The opera that Mozart is writing for Prince Vehnsky must – will – win her freedom."

"And if it does not?"

"There is a world outside the empire."

Olympia sadly shook her head. Clearly the thought of any artist leaving Vienna was almost impossible for her to imagine.

"Frau Adamberger, you have said it yourself. She must get free of this vampire, or she will wither and die. I could feel it when I touched her during her illness … I knew it the first moment I looked into her eyes.'

They were outside now, going down the steps into the swirling snow, arm in arm.

"Now, Madame," Akos said, fingering the coin he'd been tossed, as they "Let me use this gift from the Count to call a chair to carry you safely home."

***

"And then what happened?" Everyone was intent upon putting together the pieces of last night's perilous adventure

The next afternoon, Klara, the Adambergers and Akos arrived into the Mozarts’ rooms. Wolfgang had gravitated to his natural perch, a seat at the small fortepiano, where he restlessly swung a skinny white-stocking-covered leg. Akos had gone straightaway to Klara’s side. The feathered dress, beribboned bustle, cape, plumed mask and the rest of the costume were present too, all of it draped over a chair.

"Well, I got one of your stag friends to dance with me, Herr Almassy," Wolfgang said. "It's fortunate I'm such a good dancer. It wasn't as hard as I thought to dance in reverse.”

"Wolfgang, dear, we are certain you are a wonderful dancer,” Olympia said, “but please don't keep us in suspense for an instant longer."

"Well, no longer than it takes to tell, the Count burst onto the dance floor with his servants and grabbed me. He pulled me up against his chest." Here Wolfgang paused, and flushed bright red. "Believe me, I was scared. His eyes are like glaciers." He shot a glance over his shoulder at Klara, his quicksilver mind doubtless filling with a hundred conjectures. "His men seized my partner and they unmasked all of us."

Yet another violation of the rules of masquerade committed by the furious Count!

"You were dancing with my friend Ferenc," Akos said to Wolfgang. "He said he was frightened, too, ready to wet himself, so not an ounce of shame accrues to you, little Kapellmeister."

Wolfgang nodded gratefully and then went on with his story. "When he saw my face, Count Oettingen growled, 'And who are you, blue eyes?' I thought he would strike me, but he didn't. He never raised his voice, tho
’ he was in the blackest rage. I didn't stall a moment. I didn't dare. I confessed straightaway that Fraulein Silber was playing a trick on a man who had been bothering her and that she had changed clothes with me. 'Once more I shall ask who you are,' he said, 'and just why Fraulein Silber would do such a mad thing.' So I explained I had been composing a piece for Fraulein Silber to sing for Prince Vehnsky, and that was why she was knew me. One of his men scoffed," Wolfgang said with a grin, "He said that I couldn't be composing anything for Fraulein Silber, a boy like me, but the Count recognized me."

Here he paused, obviously much pleased by this part of his story.
“'Wolfgang Mozart of Salzburg?' asks he, and so I bowed and said that I was eternally at his service."

"He is a great connoisseur," Klara said. "He has sometimes spoken of hearing you play for the old Empress when you were a little boy."

"Lucky for you, little Kapellmeister," Florian said. "He might have cut your throat and asked questions later."

"When I looked into his eyes, I had the same notion. At any rate, your Count didn't speak again right away. I could almost see his mind working. Finally he said, 'I am the lady's patron. I feared that she might come to some harm at such a rag-tag brawl.' He even said that he looked forward to the music and that he hoped I would live up to my reputation and provide Fraulein Silber with something worthy of her talent. He advised me to get home to my father before I got into further trouble; he even had one of his men accompany me here to Swan. I managed all that without Papa knowing, at least until this morning when he got up before I did, saw Fraulein Silber's costume, and demanded a full explanation."

"I suppose your worthy Papa had a few choice words to say then." Florian shook his great head with a grin.

"I caught hell. After I told him it was in service of Prima Donna Silber, he calmed down, but only a little. I, uh, well, I wasn’t supposed to be out last night."

"And, Fraulein? Did we get away with it?"

With a shiver, Klara remembered how it had gone. Florian had seen her into the apartment. Together they had made the explanation to Liese, who seemed inclined to believe them. Klara had called for hot water as she always did before going to bed. She had bathed while Liese fussed about the risk she'd run going to such a terrible place and about how cross the Count had been when he'd come earlier and found her out. She’d just been pulling the warm flannel long gown, her usual nightwear, over her head when she'd heard the loud knocking.

"This will be him now, I'm sure." Liese hurried off, anxious to greet her master.

Klara mentally girded herself while quickly emptying the basin into the bucket under the washstand. She knew there'd be questions, and perhaps more than that, which she'd have to fend off.

She had just thrown the burgundy morning gown over the flannel, when her bedroom door opened, and Count Oettingen swept in wearing his masquerade black velvet and billowing cape.

Fluffy Satz, who had been comfortably ensconced upon Klara's pillow, instantly disappeared into the shadows beneath her bed. Just the sound of those unmistakable footsteps struck terror into his heart.

The Count stood, twitching a riding crop against one high boot, while Klara curtsied deeply. His aristocratic features were as cold as the winter night out of which he'd come.

"I am sorry to have inconvenienced you, sir." She spoke humbly. It was easy, because now, in his presence again after all this time, she was terrified.

He looked around, taking in the tableaux, the slender woman, the turned down bed, the pitcher on the wash stand. The black boots came closer and a big hand, cold from outdoors, reached down for hers.Keeping her eyes lowered, Klara took it. She was immediately lifted to her feet.

"You have made a fool of me, Fraulein." Cold finger tips lodged beneath her chin and tilted it up. "Just what did you think you were doing, going to that meat market at the Mehlgrube?" His hawk's eyes glared.

"It was said that Prince Josef would be there. It is also said that our gracious Empress may soon die. I shall need another highly placed friend at Court."

After a moment's examination of her face, the Count released her. "Ah, Maria Klara," he said, sighing. "None of it, my dear, is much like you. Neither seeking out the Crown Prince, nor going for amusement into such a riot."

Klara called upon all her stagecraft and kept her voice low and level. "As you always say, sir, I have been responsible for little except music. In your absence, shouldn't I look after my career?"

Oettingen smiled slightly. "And who was the man that young Herr Mozart said you were avoiding?"

"Um, no one, Sir, at least no one I know, or would ever wish to. I fear that the Mehlgrube ball was not at all as I imagined it." She lowered her lashes demurely and sent up a prayer.

"It seems that I have returned to Vienna not a moment too soon, Maria Klara." Cold fingers gathered hers again and this time carried them to his lips. After another long pause, he asked, "Are you glad to see me?"

"Yes, of course, so delighted, my dear Herr Count." A tremor shot through Klara, one she couldn't suppress. Her fear grew as she met his questioning eyes. For what seemed an endless age he stared down at her. Then he said, "You look very pale, Maria Klara. Why did you go out in this terrible weather when you have been so ill? Hmm?"

"Well, I have been so horribly bored, sir, confined here for so long."

"Well, my incautious Fraulein, I think you should go straight to bed now, for it is very late and you have not been well. I shall come to visit you in your parlor tomorrow, about five. We shall speak more then."

"Yes, my Lord." She curtsied deeply.

"Is that how it is, Maria Klara?" The cold mask drew close again.

"Sir?"

The Count impatiently sighed. He was clearly displeased by her formality and twitched the crop against his high boot.

The sound held a memory, one of shame and arousal…
.

***

Klara ended her story well before this, though, well aware that every eye in the parlor was upon her. She could not speak of what had happened next, how Max's free hand had come to take possession. He'd tilted her face towards his, bent and kissed her. Klara had accepted it like a statue.

"You must tell me about this odd cure Liese says you have taken. I shall be most curious to learn about it.
Guten Abend
, Maria Klara. Until tomorrow." His final words held a note of resignation. However, to her intense relief, he didn't press further, simply turned and went out.

There was a look in Herr Almassy’s face which indicated that he knew perfectly well there was omission in this story. He hid his concern by lifting her fingers again and tenderly kissing them.