Nightingale (9 page)

"I'm sorry to hear that. You did such a wonderful job rehearsing us."

"Thank you, Fraulein Silber, but being even temporarily in your service is a welcome task."

As bold as his words were, those beautiful hazel eyes were bolder. Much to her annoyance, Klara felt herself blush again.

"Will you do the other part of the cure again?” A renegade shiver ran through her, one incited by the memory of the touch of his hands.

"Yes, but with a difference. Today, with your permission, I shall massage your head and neck. We shall go straight to where the problem is."

"My – my – neck?"

"Yes. If it makes you uncomfortable, Liese can sit right there and watch."

"Well, yes. I suppose she had better." Klara sighed at the idea of those dragon eyes watching them. "And what will that do?"

"It will make you blow your nose, spit and cough. I doubt that even Frau Liese will be able to see it as a prelude to an amour." Akos smiled.

Klara felt her color rise higher. How did he make her feel this way? She was, after all, the prima donna, the Count's mistress, the one in charge here!

She rang the bell, a little more briskly than was necessary, and summoned Marie, her housemaid, to take the cone of herbs to Herr Messer in the kitchen, so that he could make it into a tea. While this was done, Akos warmed his hands by the fire. Then, taking a stance behind the divan, he laid those same artful hands upon Klara's neck, pausing occasionally to sweep the soft, escaping tendrils out of the way away. His first grazing touches made Klara shiver.

"You just watch what you are doing, young sir!" Summoned by Marie, Liese delivered a caution even as she came through the door.

"Hush, Liese."

"Yes, please, Frau Liese. You must be silent and allow your mistress to relax, or this treatment will not help her."

"But, good heavens, Fraulein!"

"One more word and I shall ask you to leave!"

Liese clamped her jaw shut. Unable to endure that dogged, disapproving stare, Klara closed her eyes.

"Now, let us all take a deep breath and feel peaceful," Almassy said, beginning again.

His hands felt so good! Once her eyes were closed, Klara had little trouble relaxing, even with the continued sensation of Liese's boring gaze. Whenever he found a spot which felt cool or knotted, he'd linger upon it. Waves of tranquility washed through her body. Klara sighed.

Interruption came when the newly brewed tea was carried in by Herr Messer. Akos poured it out with a muscular hand that looked more suited to the hilt of a sword than to the precise gestures of service.

"I am supposed to go to my singing lesson tomorrow." Klara sat up to sip the hot, spicy liquid.

"Not a good idea. You won't feel well enough, and using your voice now would be a mistake, as I’m sure Signor Manzoli will agree. Besides, the cold makes a journey out of doors a hazard. You will be in a fragile state for at least another week. It would be best to send and explain. Why, if I may ask, didn’t he send you to Kapellmeister Salieri, of whom the Emperor is so fond?”

“Count Oettingen believed Salieri did not have enough experience. Manzoli is a brilliant teacher.
”

"Well, the proof's in the pudding. Do you suppose," Akos said after a moment, "that Signor Manzoli could come to you?"

"Oh, he never goes out to pupils! He rarely leaves his apartment, except to go to the opera or the ballet. He would consider it an insult if I asked."

"Twenty years past his glory and the fellow dares to dictate to a reigning prima donna?" Akos shook his head. "Nevertheless, Fraulein Silber, as you are undoubtedly his most important student, you must explain the situation. I'm sure he will at least send good advice. His own career lasted for years, so he must have a store of knowledge about preserving the voice. I'm far from being all knowing, but my grandfather says that it's most important that only a little talking and no singing, not even scales, be done until the infection is past."

"Yes, I know."

"Good. Now, Fraulein Silber, if you please, we will speak no more." Akos took command. "Just close your eyes and relax, or this treatment will not work as well as it should."

After a time in which Klara luxuriated in the good ache which Akos' hands created, there came a hesitant tap at the door. When Liese popped up to open it, Messer stuck his head in.

"Herr Doctor, did you need anything else?"

"Ah, thank you! Perhaps you could warm this.” Akos paused to remove a small brown bottle from a pocket. “After it is warm, drench some clean rags and make a pack which Liese can apply to your lady's chest. You'll see this is better than mustard to bring up congestion."

"Better than mustard?" Messer was disbelieving.

“Never you mind, Herr Messer! Go and tend your kitchen! No one called you!” As Messer, discomfited, closed the door, Liese turned her annoyance upon Akos. “Such tasks are not his! I shall take care of my lady.” Snatching the bottle from Almassy’s hand she hurried to the door.

"Thank God." Klara sighed when it closed. "She means well, but there are times when she might as well call herself a jailor."

“Hush,” said Akos. “You are talking too much, although it’s my fault.”

The gentle massage began again, now moving from her neck to her shoulders. In spite of the arousal she'd imagined she would feel at his intimacy, Klara found herself slipping into a dreamy state.

"How did Prince Vehnsky know you had been here?"

"The Prince called me to him after your apology came, and I at once explained that I had already gone to you. He told me I had been impertinent, but he forgave me, for he is genuinely impressed by your talent, and much desires your speedy recovery. I explained that I had noted your illness at the rehearsal."

"Was he very angry?"

"Well, he has his tyrannical moments, certainly, like all his kind. But beneath that arrogant demeanor there beats a good heart."

His fingers continued to send warm waves of comfort. Despite occasional bouts of coughing and sneezing, Klara felt lulled, and so very safe! Her head fell back into his hands. Whenever he increased the pressure, though, she'd wince and tighten her jaw.

When Liese came back with a small bowl with the heated and oil-drenched pack, she found a scene which was acceptably medical. Klara's face was buried in a handkerchief and she was now alternately coughing, blowing her nose, and spitting.

"Now, please, apply the pack to your lady's chest. Keep her warm and go on giving her the decoctions I've brought, ending with the sleeping mixture, which is the one in the cone from yesterday. Remind her not to talk. Fraulein Silber will do a lot of productive coughing. I shall return to see how she is in the morning."

Chapter
4

Klara began to feel better. Every day she looked forward to Herr Almassy’s arrival. Even Liese began to relax around him, especially when she could see, day by day, that her mistress was so quickly recovering.

A gray shadow came floating down from the nearby shelf to land with an airy thump on the table. In the next moment, the cat dropped to the floor and approached. He jumped onto Klara's lap, free as a child with his mother. Then, he turned upon that privileged spot and gave Akos a challenging stare. Akos gently extended a hand. After allowing the cat time to investigate, he stroked his big head.

Two strokes were permitted, and then, as Akos reached to scratch Satz's chin, he leapt lightly away and went to sit in a comforting yellow pool of sun upon the floor. Ignoring them both, he lifted a fluffy paw and carefully licked it, but Klara knew that if either of them so much as moved, he'd slink away behind the stove.

"He never does that," Klara said wonderingly, watching Satz, who was now sitting with his tiger back to them.

"Sit in the sun?"

"No. Sit in my lap when a stranger is here, or allow anyone to touch him, certainly not someone he isn't familiar with, most especially a man."

"Is he afraid of men?" Akos asked, studying the cat. "Cats, poor fellows, often have good reasons for it."

"He's afraid of Count Oettingen."

"It's a rare nobleman who likes cats," Akos said, "and cats are too discerning not to realize their danger."

"Well, it's more than ordinary disdain. The Count insisted that a tom cat would pee in my rooms and make a stink, so one day, when I wasn't home, he came with his surgeon and castrated him."

"An excellent reason to hold a grudge!" Akos shook his dark head in sympathy. "Did it work?"

"Yes. He was right about that, for Satz never sprays, which is a consolation to me, but there is none for poor Satz. My man, Hermann, told me the Count himself stuffed Satz head first down a riding boot and then had his surgeon cut. The surgeon did a good job, for he recovered fairly quickly, but, my poor, poor Satz will never forget. Now, whenever the Count comes to visit, he is terrified."

"Does Count von Oettingen visit you often?"

"Rarely. It's part of our treaty."

"So you have a few rules which he obeys?"

"A very few. His wife's servants threw me out of his townhouse some years ago and I ended up here. The building belongs to my banker, an upright and honest Jew."

"His wife dared that?"

"Yes." The whole business was humiliating, though it is some time past. "If it weren't for wise Herr Rosenbaum, I don't know what I would have done. The Countess threatened him, too, because the Count was out of town and she thought she could get away with it. Still, Herr Rosenbaum kept her from getting at either me or my money, and he let me have this apartment. When the Count returned and the dust had settled, I told him I would prefer to stay here, to run my own household and not further offend his wife. I have modest tastes. Being raised for the first thirteen years of my life in a nunnery perhaps has something to do with it."

"You are a paragon among prima donnas."

"There is no reason to waste a windfall." It was odd to quote Max, but the words came anyway. He had often lectured her on the inevitable pattern of a singer's life.

"Your lovely voice will not last forever,
Vogelchen
. What will happen if you have saved nothing toward that day? It's easy to get used to comfort and a wretched business to be without it in the sorry time of one’s old age."

Aloud, Klara said, "It is a foolish singer indeed who does not put aside for the time after her voice is gone."

"The same could be said of any performer, yet saving is uncommon among theater folk. I think that in more ways than one, you are a rare bird, Fraulein Silber."

Klara shrugged off the compliment. Sometimes Akos made her feel shy, and though she generally disliked people who put her off balance, for some reason it didn't seem to matter so much with him. She could sense no other emotion in him beyond delight in her company. Perhaps she was wrong, but it seemed there was no desire to manipulate her, no devious web spinning.

"My grandfather is a keeper of cats," Akos spoke into the silence. "Ever since I was small, I've always had one of my own. Actually," he said with a smile, "a better description of the situation might be that I belong to the cat."

Klara smiled, knowing from this remark that his interest in Satz was not feigned. "And what is he like?"

"In my case, I am owned by a queen cat, a lady of many colors. Her name is Zuzanna. She is a good mother and a fine mouser."

"What happens to all the kittens?" Klara knew that was another thing Max hated about cats, their fertility.

"Zuzanna is populating the Prince's palace thoroughly, but her kittens are beautiful and find homes."

"Fortunate for them," said Klara. She knew that surplus kittens were generally given to servants to drown, but knew she'd have to be hard pressed to give such an order herself.

"Cats are discriminating about whose life they enter. If a cat trusts you, it is a great compliment."

"I am very fond of them in general and my Satz in particular. He was from a litter of kittens at my friend Olympia's house, um, I mean, Frau Adamberger, who used to sing here in Vienna. He was not the only one with long hair, but he had those big eyes and ears like butterfly wings. I just had to have him."

"I have seen long-haired Persian and Turkish cats, but I have never seen one like him." From beneath the stove, they could see a pair of gleaming eyes, now studying them. "His body is square, and he's heavy, too."

"The Mama cat was part Turkish, they think, for she was white with blue eyes and did not mind water a bit. Olympia believes that Satz's father belonged to a Norwegian
count who had taken rooms in their building. Several other kittens from that litter had the same heavy coats, neck ruffs and square bodies, just like my Satz. I met the Norwegian tom once. He was a most unusual cat."

"In what way?" Akos appeared interested in her cat story, so she continued, thinking once again that here sat a most unusual man.

"Well, that cat was so calm his master took him everywhere, either lying him about his neck, or letting him walk beside him like a dog. He was enormous, much bigger than Satz, but with those same black and silver markings on his back and the fluffy buff belly. He was not afraid of anything, but I guess he had good reason. He must have weighed twenty-five pounds and he had huge feet with extra toes."