Klara listened, the same secretive smile on her face, and he could not tell if she believed him or if she smiled because she did not. But she was sweet and kind and seemed to understand, even to share, his hopes, enthusiasms and ambitions. What she really thought he was not then to discover because just as Laszlo started to ask if she thought he was doing the right thing they were startled to hear Peter’s stentorious voice calling out: ‘Laszlo! What are you up to? Tiro! Tiro! You’ve already let by three cocks!’ And he had to jump up, reach for his gun and get to work to ‘help’ Montorio. He was only able to speak to Klara again when the second band of beaters began their work.
‘Do stay on a few days when the others go,’ said Klara, speaking generally, but showing by her glance that she was referring to Montorio.
‘I can’t! It’ll be difficult enough to catch up these three days. I promised myself to be back by Wednesday night.’
‘One day more? Just one! There’s such a mob here now. and besides,’ she went on flirtatiously, ‘you must play to me. Wasn’t I your first audience?’
Laszlo remained silent, torn but inflexible.
‘You must remember. It was your Valse Macabre? I was the first to hear it, and I was still at school.’
‘Yes, the Valse Macabre.’ They looked deep into each other’s eyes, a long, long look.
A shrill whirring rose in the air and cries of ‘Partridge! Partridge!’
Laszlo jumped up again, his gun to his shoulder. He emptied both barrels, changed guns and emptied two more at the swift-flying covey above him. Three birds fell, rolling as they hit the ground from the speed of their flight. One fell at Klara’s feet. She bent down and picked it up and holding it in one elegantly gloved hand she caressed it with the other.
‘Look, how beautiful he is! He might be asleep. There’s not a spot of blood on him!’ She lifted the bird to her lips and again and again gently kissed the soft grey feathered breast and, tenderly smiling, looked up into Laszlo’s face.
‘Do look! It’s so strange!’ She blew into the downy feathers that fluttered around her mouth and there was something essentially voluptuous both in the way she parted her lips and in her questioning look.
Once again they were interrupted. A mass of pheasants flew over them and Laszlo had his work cut out to bring down the cocks and do the job for which he had been invited.
When the beat was over the girl walked away quietly and joined a group of other ladies. Laszlo remained at his place, his loader and cartridge-carrier busy with the beaters picking up the fallen birds, jealously ensuring, for the honour of their master, that everyone knew what a good shot he was and how many birds had fallen to his gun. So they shouted to each other: ‘There’s another cock over there! That one’s ours! There are two more beyond those bushes!’ each man showing as much pride as if he had shot them himself.
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.
Chapter Four
THE 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 deGotha, 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.