The Musician's Daughter (13 page)

CHAPTER 16

A
fter I finished my work with godfather Haydn, he took Toby and me in his carriage to the Esterhazy Palace. While I was in the palace watching the prince’s servants scurry around, I was suddenly struck with an idea, a way to take Toby with me to my uncle’s and then to the ball: he could act as my page, carrying my fan and lifting my train when necessary. Mama had told me the wealthy families sometimes had little boys serve such a function. When I asked my godfather about it, he agreed, and also managed to secure a page’s uniform from the prince’s household.

We arrived home with it wrapped up in a bundle just in time for me to bathe and have my hair dressed by a friend of my mother’s, a talkative widow who earned a living by recreating fashionable coiffures for the wives and daughters of merchants. “This is the very latest style, you understand,” she said, as she made my hair puff out by cleverly concealing tangled lumps of horse hair beneath it, and then pinned false curls stiffened with sugar water at the nape of my neck. They scratched abominably.

My mother at first did not want Toby to accompany me, but I pointed out to her that it would be an opportunity for him to see the kind of setting where the violins and violas he would make might be used, and to understand the true place of music in high society. “Besides, if I have a page, it will make up a little for my not having a maid,” I said, “and we will not seem quite so poor.” I neglected to mention there was every likelihood I would never attend another ball, and I certainly made no reference to the disturbing facts the maestro and Zoltán had told me earlier in the day. She agreed, but insisted on sending word ahead of time to my uncle.

When the hour came to make my way to the mansion on the Graben, I was very happy to be clinging to Toby’s hand. And he stayed close by me, too, as if he could sense something of the air of menace that hung over the evening. I was fearful of what might happen, more fearful than I had been of going to the Gypsy camp. My uncle possessed power far beyond that of the wandering Romany. Although they could do away with me if they chose with the slash of a knife, my uncle might have me confined in a convent, or even a prison, to live out my days in withering solitude. I thought I would prefer almost anything to that, even a quick death.

Mama had given me her pearl earbobs to wear. There were tears of joy in her eyes when she beheld me with my hair all piled up and powdered, my cheeks and lips rouged.

“
Du bist sehr schön.
Your papa would be so proud!” she said, although I knew he cared little for the fripperies and refinements of ladies. In fact, I thought he might rather have been disappointed to see me got up like that. For one moment I imagined flinging my arms around and tossing my head just as Maya had done during her dance in the Gypsy camp, and all the bits of horse hair flying out in every direction, powder dousing those nearest to me. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

I soon contained myself, however. I hoped that the evening would prove to offer only dancing and gaiety, that my uncle would be too busy with his friends to bother about me, and that what ever Zoltán wished to accomplish would occur without fanfare or difficulty. I hoped.

Everything started off well when the valet informed me that my uncle had been called to an emergency council session and would meet me at the ball. “Your gown has arrived, and the carriage will be called to take you to the assembly rooms at nine of the clock,” he informed me, then snapped his fingers at the snobbish maid who had treated me so disdainfully the first two times I visited my uncle’s house. “Hildegard will do for you.”

So, her name was Hildegard. I was secretly delighted that she was now called upon to help me dress, although I restrained myself from saying anything unkind to her.

She, on the other hand, expressed her annoyance in a thousand little ways, the most irritating of which was yanking so hard on the laces of my stays that I thought she would squeeze the breath out of me.

“Is that quite necessary?” I gasped.

“The councilor said to do my best with you,” she said, giving another fierce tug. “And that will take some effort.”

I was relieved when the doorbell jangled somewhere deep in the house and she let go of my laces. “Now who could that be?” Hildegard muttered. “I’d better see.”

She left me standing in the middle of the room in front of a large cheval glass. My face was red and my head had already started to pound. I reached behind and tried to loosen my laces but I couldn’t manage it.

A few moments later I heard excited chatter approach from the vestibule, make its way up the stairs, and crescendo toward my room. Hildegard sounded flustered. “Herr Wolkenstein said nothing about a maid! I’m sure I’m not to let you in.”

“Ach,
Gott im Himmel,
he must simply have forgotten. I always attend Mademoiselle Schurman when she steps out.”

Mirela! How on earth had she discovered where I was, and what had made her come? I prepared myself for the unlikely sight of the wild Gypsy girl in my uncle’s sedate house, but when the door flew open, I had another surprise. Instead of her bright costume and the rings in her ears, Mirela wore a plain black dress with a simple cape and bonnet over it.

“Why didn’t you say you had a maid coming?” Hildegard snapped at me.

“I... I... sent her on an errand and wasn’t certain she would complete it before I needed her,” I answered, doing my best to recover from my own shock. “Mirela can take over now. You are dismissed.” I lifted my nose into the air and flicked my hand at Hildegard. I knew it was very rude of me, but I couldn’t help feeling a small glow of pleasure as she sulked off.

“Please, can you loosen my stays,” I begged Mirela as soon as the door shut behind Hildegard.

She got right to work, and in a few moments I could breathe easily again. While she continued to help me into my elaborate dress, Mirela whispered into my ear, “I’m sorry, Rezia, to surprise you like this. But Danior spoke to Zoltán, and—I don’t really know how to make it right, but you see, I thought...”

She stopped speaking. I looked at her face in the mirror. She had gone red, and there was such a tightening around the corners of her mouth that for a moment I thought she might be about to cry. She finished lacing up the dress in the back, then put her hand in her pocket and drew out a brightly colored handkerchief, covered in patterns that resembled those on the rugs in Maya’s hut. Without looking at me, she held it out in my direction. Was she giving me a gift? I already had a lace-edged
Handtaschen
to take with me to the ball.

I didn’t understand her action until I realized that the kerchief was only a covering for something else: my gold medallion—well, the medallion my father had been wearing, at least. “Did you—,” I began.

She put her finger to my lips. “I do not have time to explain now. You mustn’t be cross. But Danior says you are to wear it this evening.”

I was too surprised to be angry, and glad to have the medallion back. “Will you come with me to the ball?” I asked.

She smiled. “No, I must go back to the camp. Maids like me are not welcome at an assembly ball!” She stepped back, cocked her head to one side, and surveyed me from head to foot. “You look beautiful! Such a lady.”

Her compliment made me glow from the inside. I don’t quite know why, but I wanted to embrace Mirela, to hold her close to me like a sister. Her theft of the medallion seemed suddenly not to matter. Although I knew next to nothing about this Gypsy girl, I felt a kinship with her that I had never felt for another friend before, not even Toby. But there wasn’t time to think about it much. I simply smiled as she dipped a quick curtsy to me and opened the door so that I could pass through. I held my head high and maneuvered my voluminous skirts out into the hallway and down the stairs.

Toby was showing signs of boredom as he waited for me by the door, picking at a thread that dangled from the ruffle of his shirtsleeve. My little brother appeared very handsome in Prince Nicholas’s livery—handsome, but small, I thought. One of the steps creaked as I descended, and he quickly jumped up from his seat and put his hands behind his back, as I had taught him on the way over. I think my appearance was so altered that he was struck dumb. It seemed likely his jaw would drop all the way to the floor.
“Bei alle Engeln!”
he said. I didn’t know whether he was merely surprised or meant to compare me with an angel. I laughed.

Mirela saw us into the carriage, then stood and waved as we drew away from my uncle’s door. I regretted that she would not be with us, and felt distinctly more anxious about the coming evening without her.

The carriage had an elegant, wooden body suspended on springs attached to large, delicate wheels. Inside, the walls were lined with satin, and we sat upon velvet cushions. Four beautiful bay horses pulled us along the icy streets, a liveried coachman drove, and two footmen stood on platforms at the back holding torches up high. A postilion sat on one of the horses at the front, calling out, “Make way for Councilor Wolkenstein’s carriage!” I could not resist looking out to see the common folk—people no lower in status than we were—staring at us as we passed.

I could have ridden around Vienna all evening and enjoyed myself quite well, but we had only a short distance to go before arriving at the public assembly rooms. They were in a large, modern building behind the ancient Rathaus, the place where all the business of the city was transacted—licenses issued, criminals charged, heroes honored. We had to wait in a line of carriages before it was our turn to descend, but even before we turned the corner, I could see the glow from the assembly rooms’ brightly lit windows. As we approached the entrance, the footmen hopped off their perches. One of them opened the carriage door while the other helped me climb down the steps. I had told Toby his job was to keep my train from trailing in the snow—which had now turned to mud and manure because of all the horse and carriage traffic that had preceded us.

Even though I felt as elegant as the most distinguished woman I had ever seen, I realized as soon as we entered the main ballroom that compared with the truly wealthy, I still appeared humble. I wore no diamonds in my hair or around my neck, buckled to my waist or wrapped around my wrist. Nonetheless, many heads turned to look at me when my name was announced despite the fact that all I had on in the way of jewelry was the gold medallion, which hung right at the level of my breasts and drew many eyes directly to that part of my body. I quickly tucked it inside my bodice.