Dennis Wheatley - Duke de Richleau 07 (19 page)

There were further
introductions and small talk while the party nibbled little cakes and sipped
eis-caffee Viennoise
with a three-inch layer of rich
cream on top. Then they returned to the box. After the final parade Ilona spent
a few minutes making the usual tactful remarks of royalty to the people round
her, before leaving. To De Richleau she said:

“No doubt, Duke, I shall
see you at the Czernins’ ball on Monday?”

He bowed from the waist. “Your
Imperial Highness is most kind, and I count it a great honour that you should
command my presence.”

The Czernins were not
among his acquaintances, but her remark was tantamount to an order, so he knew
that he would have no difficulty in securing an invitation. Adam Gr
ü
nne
was, of course, in attendance on her; so when thanking him for the afternoon’s
entertainment, De Richleau mentioned the matter. The equerry said at once that
he would have the Duke’s name added to the list of guests that had been
submitted to the Court Chamberlain and inform the Countess Czernin, and the
following afternoon he received a big gold-crested card requesting the pleasure
of his company at the ball.

Now that the Duke had
been six days in Vienna, he was fully relaunched in Viennese society, so the
week-end passed in a pleasant round of social engagements: but the thought of
Monday night was never far from his mind, and whenever he was alone he kept
wondering a little anxiously what attitude Ilona would adopt towards him when
they had a chance to talk alone together.

The Czernins were one of
the greatest families in Austria and occupied a palace of their own in the
Josefstadt district. This lay on the far side of The Ring and had once been a
garden city in which many of the Austrian nobility had country houses just
outside the walls. These had since mostly disappeared, to give place to some of
Vienna’s finest Government buildings, the spreading of the University and big
blocks of luxury flats. But some of the great private mansions still remained,
and the Czernins’ palace lay just behind the Rathaus.

On his arrival, De
Richleau found a very similar scene to that which he had witnessed on driving
up to Dorchester House just a month earlier, except that this was made
infinitely gayer from the continental custom of officers wearing their
uniforms, instead of civilian clothes, when off duty. The Imperial Guard were
resplendent in white and gold;
j
ä
gers
in
green mingled with dragoons in scarlet and hussars in light blue, pearl and
grey. Here and there a more sober note was struck by officers in the dark blue
of the Austrian navy, the dark green of the artillery, and the grey-blue of the
infantry. But most magnificent of all were the Hungarian nobility, who wore
their own hereditary costumes of rich fur-trimmed velvets and brocades.

The Duke soon found
several of his acquaintances and could easily have filled up his card with
dance engagements; but he committed himself only for those early on his
programme, from fear that he might have to cut a later one on account of Ilona.
It would have been a flagrant breach of etiquette for him to ask her for a
dance, but he thought it certain that she would send for him during the course
of the evening, and he eagerly awaited her arrival.

At ten o’clock she
appeared in the ballroom accompanied by the Count and Countess Czernin, who had
left their position at the head of the stairs to escort her to a low dais, from
which she could watch the dancing or join in it, as she felt inclined. To-night
she was dressed in oyster satin, and looked much more regal than she had at
Dorchester House, as the bright blue cordon of an order, with a great diamond
star upon it, crossed her breast: a necklace of rubies, the centre piece of
which was the size of a pigeon’s egg, glowed round her throat, and a tiara
scintillated on her high-piled chestnut hair. As she crossed the room she
passed quite close to De Richleau, but she did not appear to notice him, and
she was soon surrounded by a little court of mainly elderly people who hid her
from his view.

Ten minutes later his
thoughts were temporarily distracted from her, as the band broke off a Mazurka
it was playing to blare into the National Anthem, and the Count and Countess
Czernin again appeared, this time to escort across the room His Imperial
Highness, the Archduke Franz-Ferdinand and his wife.

De Richleau regarded this
middle-aged couple with special interest for more reasons than one. Firstly, as
heir apparent to an Emperor whose age was eighty-four, the Archduke was well on
the way to replacing the old man as the most important figure in the empire. It
was he who. against the Emperor’s wish, had ordered the reforms which von H
ö
tzendorf
had introduced into the Imperial armies; and probably it would depend upon him,
more than any single individual, whether Austria accepted a challenge from
Serbia and possibly precipitated a general European war. Secondly, he had shown
unusual character and determination in over-riding all opposition in order to
marry morganatically.

On the Crown Prince
Rudolph’s death, the Emperor’s brother, the Archduke Charles, had become the
heir apparent, but when he died in 1896 the succession passed to his son, Franz-Ferdinand.
The Emperor then decided that it would be a good plan to marry his new heir to
Rudolph’s widow, Stephanie of Belgium, but the unforeseen exposure of a love
affair in which Franz-Ferdinand was engaged, had brought swift ruin to this
project.

While staying with the
Archduchess Isabella, Franz-Ferdinand had fallen in love with one of her maids
of honour, the Countess Sophie Chotek, a Czech who, although titled, was very
far from belonging to the highest aristocracy. The Archduchess suspected the
affair but the Countess, when questioned by her mistress, flatly denied it.
Then, purely by chance, the Archduchess picked up a locket belonging to her
maid of honour: on opening it she found that it contained a miniature of
Franz-Ferdinand which had written across its back ‘Thine for ever’.

The Countess was
immediately dismissed, and the reason for her disgrace injudiciously noised
abroad. Upon which, feeling that he had compromised the young lady and brought
about her ruin, Franz-Ferdinand declared his intention of marrying her.

The Emperor, who regarded
the perpetuation of his dynasty through undiluted royal blood as a sacred
charge, was horrified, and did everything in his power to prevent the match.
But Franz-Ferdinand announced that he meant to go through with it, even if it
necessitated his renouncing the throne both for himself and his children.

After harrowing scenes, a
compromise was reached, by which he sacrificed the claims of any children he
might have by the Countess, and hers to recognition as his official wife, while
retaining his own as heir apparent. But this did not altogether solve the
problem of her position, as, although she could never become Empress of
Austria, under the ancient laws of Hungary, which permitted morganatic
marriages, she would, upon the old Emperor’s death, automatically become Queen
of that country.

Since their marriage in
1900 she had borne her husband three children, and he now made no secret of the
fact that he regretted having signed away their rights of succession in favour
of his nephew, the young Archduke Charles. Moreover, the Countess Sophie was a
clever woman with boundless ambition, and it was said that in due course she
would stop at nothing to get herself proclaimed Empress.

At present, therefore,
their position was in the highest degree invidious. The Archduke was becoming
more and more the real ruler of the state, and the army already regarded him as
its supreme chief. But his wife, although now over forty and recently created
Duchess of Hohenberg, was still not received at court. The Emperor continued to
insist that no royal honours should ever be paid to her, and many members of
the ancient Austrian nobility followed his lead, partly owing to their contempt
for the Czechs, whom they regarded as a subject race, and partly on account of
her comparatively low birth, but above all because she had brought dissent and
uncertainty concerning the succession into the imperial family.

As against that, other
noble families, like the Czernins, received and courted her for a variety of
reasons. If they wished to be on good terms with Franz-Ferdinand it was almost
impossible not to do so as, except for state functions at which her presence
was barred, he took her with him wherever he went. But some of them had formed
a genuine liking for her, and others openly championed her cause from the
cynical belief that in course of time she would become the acknowledged
mistress of the Empire, and that she would then shower rich rewards on all who
had taken her side against the old Emperor.

Not least among these was
the Kaiser, Wilhelm II. The German monarch was shrewd enough to appreciate her
brain and the probable extent of her future influence. He had received her in
Berlin only semiofficially, from fear of offending the Emperor, but had gone
out of his way to treat her with special courtesy; and whenever he passed
through Vienna he never failed to pay his respects to her. As Major
Hankey
had informed De Richleau, this policy had already borne
rich fruit, as Franz-Ferdinand was devoted to his wife and nothing swayed him
more than such attentions to her. In consequence, from having been anti-German
as a young man he had, in the past few years, come to regard the Kaiser as a
great personal friend, and now invariably took his advice on all questions
regarding the Austrian army.

As the Duke unobtrusively
watched the couple from some thirty paces distant, he thought of that, and
wondered if in some way he might use the Duchess of Hohenberg’s ambitions, or
the Archduke’s eagerness to see his wife publicly acclaimed, for some purpose
of his own.

Several times De Richleau
endeavoured to catch Ilona’s eye, and as the dancing proceeded he took occasion
now and then to pass within a few yards of her. But she continued to ignore
him, so he began to think that she had repented of her impulse to afford him
what amounted only to another meeting in public, until, at last, after the
supper dance, Adam Grünne sought him out in the buffet and told him that Her
Imperial Highness desired his presence.

With his heart beating a
little faster, he accompanied the equerry to the dais, where Ilona gave him her
hand to kiss, and said with a smile: “I have not seen you dancing very much
this evening, Duke, although I am told that you are a good dancer. I have just
had my wish conveyed to the band that they should play the ‘Blue Danube’. I
trust you are not too blas
é
to
partner me in it.”

He returned her smile. “It
is watching the perfection of Your Highness’ dancing that has made me
disinclined to dance with less gifted ladies to-night. You see, I was once told
by someone whom I much respect that it is better not to waltz at all than with
someone who does not waltz really well.”

As he handed her down off
the dais her blue eyes sparkled. By her ordering the ‘Blue Danube’ and by his
remark, both had deliberately recalled their dance together at Dorchester House
and all that had followed it. He took a firm grip of her waist, and a moment
later they swung smoothly away across the floor.

They made their first
circle of the room in silence, then he whispered, “Am I forgiven?”

“Of course you are,” Her
eyes were turned away from him, but her breath fanned his cheek. “Otherwise I
should not be dancing with you.”

“I had begun to think you
never meant to. May I hope for another before you leave?”

“No. For me to dance
twice in one evening with a stranger would certainly be remarked. Besides, I am
dancing with you now, just this once, only because you took the trouble to come
to Vienna in evidence of your repentance.”

“What would you say if I
told you that I do not repent?”

“I forbid you to say such
things.”

“You cannot forbid me to
think them. And I did not come to Vienna to seek forgiveness, but in search of
love.”

She dropped her long dark
lashes and remained silent a moment.

Then she said coldly: “I
am told that Vienna is a good place for a man like yourself to find it. The
girls here are very pretty, and do I not recall your telling me that you
often—often formed unions of—of a temporary nature?”

“I have occasionally done
so in the past; but you know very well I did not mean that.”

“Then—then I prefer not
to be enlightened as to your meaning.”

“So you are still afraid?”

Her body tautened for a
second. “Of what?”