Red Magic (4 page)

She drew her daughter towards the window
seat, the place where Cat had endured so many maternal lectures. When
Caterina's red head nestled against her shoulder, Lady von Velsen began.

"You're going to have to grow up now,
grow up faster and harder than I'd choose, but there's nothing else to be done.
This is a terrible thing for us all, for your papa, too, you must believe it,
to think of a wedding when we should all be grieving. Duty will carry us
through. Duty, Caterina! Everyone's duty—yours, mine, Papa's, and young von
Hagen's too, for at last he seems understand his."

Caterina began a protest, but the cool,
stern voice of her mother rose, continued.

"Your Papa needs a
grandchild,
he needs to know that his land, the land which he loves so much, which you love
so much, will be passed on through you."

This speech held more power than slaps. How
often had Caterina and her Papa ridden that land together, those lush green
pastures where the cattle grazed and grew so fat, the shaded, leafy bowers
where the ancient willows stooped to finger the water! Now that Wili was gone,
it was all in Caterina's hands, the sweetest water and the richest meadows in
the valley. In a vision, all senses engaged, Caterina experienced it, the smell
of dark earth after plowing, the summer grain,
the
sedate, ruffling rows of turnip. Above were the hillside vineyards, clustered
with grapes.

"By this marriage, Caterina,"
Lady von Velsen said, "This beautiful place will pass to your children and
grandchildren."

"But, oh! Mother of God! Wili's
dead!"

"Yes. Our dear sweet Wili's dead and
there's nothing to be done except to go on with living."

For a time nothing more was said. They wept
and embraced. "I know you aren't prepared for marriage, but here it is,
and we shall just have to make the best of it. I know you're brave. I've seen
you take those fences on a hunt just as cool as any of the men, but now it's
time for a different kind of bravery. It's well known that you're as brave as a
man, Caterina. Now let's see if you're as brave as a woman."

Cat's green eyes widened.

"Yes, my dear," Lady von Velsen
went on softly, stroking her daughter's pale cheek, "you've never thought
like that, have you? You've always imagined that courage is only for men, but
that's because women's bravery is taken for granted. I think you are going to
discover that every day we have to be both braver and stronger than any man.
You're still so young and I knew someday you'd learn, but this is forcing the
lesson, like bitter medicine. I wish there were more time, Caterina, but there
isn't."

Cat had never seen her mother like this.
Mesmerized, she listened.

"You must stop acting like a child and
start acting like a woman, a noblewoman, born not only to wealth and privilege,
but to responsibility and duty. Life is hard for women, whether they are noble
or common. We are seldom allowed to make our own choices and I blame your papa
for making it harder for you. No matter how well you ride, or what you know
about hunting or about horses or the business of the manor, you're still a
woman with a woman's destiny and not the son he wanted so much."

"But it's not fair," Cat
exclaimed. "Wili loved Christoph. She wanted him and I don't. Oh, I
don't!" She hadn't cried while trading blows with her father's heavy
hands, but now Cat leaned against her mother's warm bosom and began to sob.

"There, there, baby," Lady von
Velsen soothed, caressing her child's scarlet head. "It will be difficult
at first. To say anything else would be a lie. Christoph has been irresponsible
and cruel, but I believe the terrible thing that has happened will temper his
resolve to do the right thing. He's your kinsman, Caterina, and once he was
your playmate. He will be good to you. I'm sure of it."

Caterina clung to her mother and trembled.
The secret desire she had felt for Christoph ever since last year was now
doubly shameful. Into her mind came images of things witnessed in the barn and
pasture, of the swift collision of brute pairing, all mingled with memories of
that day at the riverbank, memories that had haunted her continuously since it
had happened. She remembered the feel of his muscle. She remembered the amused
speculation in his brilliant eyes as he'd tumbled her on top of him, as he'd
caressed her, aroused her, and then, so casually—set her free.

In six weeks the scene would play
differently. A ring would be on her finger. Duty to family would provide the
voluptuary with both impulse and excuse. In the sanctity of the fresh linen
bridal chamber, in the very house she'd grown up in, she imagined his
beautiful, self-satisfied smile as he exercised his rake's expertise upon
her.

Safe in her mother's arms, Cat shuddered,
swore an oath to herself. Married or not, Christoph would not find possession
easy. Even if he consummated the marriage by force or by seduction, the mere
act would not make her weak like all the others. She would never pine for him,
never be reduced to a lovesick toy, a toy he could abandon or pick up as the
mood took him.

Chapter Three

"Soon it will be time to put on your
dress."

"No." Cat spat the word, didn't
break her pacing. "I can't!"

Lady von Velsen had spent much of the last
few weeks sharing her daughter's bedroom prison. For the first time since she'd
been a very little girl, Cat had been glad to have her company. All her life it
had seemed as if Mama had been the one pulling on her reins, yet now, in close
quarters and under duress, Cat suddenly understood how much she was loved.

"Now, Caterina," Mama said,
"
you
know I wouldn't agree with Papa if I thought
you were going to a truly bad man, to a harsh or cruel one. I think that when
Christoph was so close to death he was forced to reflect for the first time in
his life. When he returned to us this spring, he had changed. He'd not only
made up his mind to do his duty, but to cherish Wili as a gentleman
should."

"He's sorry now, but how long will it
last?"

"I think he finally understood your
sister, how truly, truly good she was. I think he'd begun to truly care for
her. What has happened has hurt him just badly as it has the rest of us."

Cat wearily rested her head against her
mother's shoulder. She had heard the same thing every day for the last six
weeks.

"The problem has always been that
Christoph von Hagen was made for women to fall in love with. He's handsome;
he's intelligent and strong and brave. But I'm beginning to believe that he is
good at heart too, that he is, at last, the kind of man Oncle Rupert wanted to
raise. It may take awhile, but I think that in awhile you are going to have
that rarest of things for people like us—love in your marriage."

"Oh, I will never..."

"I hear guests," her mother interrupted,
"It's time for you to dress."

"All right," Cat whispered, a
lump in her throat, "but I only want you. Don't call the maids."

Nodding, Mama got up and crossed the room.
"I'll just put my head out and tell them," she said.

There were some words at the door, for
there were not only maids waiting, but the Landrat himself tramping bull footed
up and down in the corridor.

With only one person to help, getting ready
took a while, but Lady von Velsen didn't rush. First she brought out a new
white shift and chemise. Once Cat had slipped out of her morning gown, she
donned those and then sat to pull on silk stockings and tie on the bright
ribboned knee garters. Next, her mother set to work helping her tall, slender
daughter into the back-laced stays just arrived from Vienna.

When all the crisscross lacing was done, a
ring of pillow was tied and settled at her waist. Next a heavy white on white
patterned silk dress, intended to be worn again at some future introduction at
Court, was slipped on.

After Lady van Velsen tied up the polonaise
tapes that would puff up the back of the dress, Caterina held her arms out to
accept the sleeves. Then, with a button hook from the dressing table, her
mother set about fastening the close fitted bodice.

Finally, seating her daughter in front of
the mirror, she declared, "I'm no hairdresser. Won't you let Ute come
in?"

Caterina fiercely shook her head
"no."

"If I braid your hair, our cousin
Wagensperg will think you are terribly provincial."

"Who cares what that awful snob thinks?
I don't want my hair all ratted up like a hay stack."

Lady von Velsen sighed, but proceeded to
make two thick plaits, to coil and pin. In a few minutes a shining crown of red
braid graced Caterina's elegant head.

"Just like a Donau farmer's
bride." Her mother said smiling into the mirror. "Still, why should a
girl with hair like yours smother it under a wig or use powder? Now," she
coaxed, "why don't we put on a little rouge?"

Caterina lifted her hand, tried to brush
the lamb's wool puff away, but Mama insisted, making a couple of passes along
the line of her daughter's high boned cheeks.

When this was done, a plain gauze veil was
brought, but before Lady von Velsen put this on, she wanted Caterina to cross
over to the long mirror.

"I don't want to. This is the most
horrible day of my life."

"In two years, my contrary child, I'll
wager you won't think so. I absolutely insist that you look into that
mirror."

Taking Caterina's hand, she drew her
reluctant daughter after her.

"Caterina Maria Brigitte, see! There's
someone very beautiful."

When she looked at her reflection, there
was an astonishing stranger, a tall beauty whose slender waist was accentuated
by the swelling of panniers, whose small breasts were raised in perfect
alabaster rounds by the tightly laced stays. Above the long oval of her face,
above her straight angel's nose, above the level green eyes, Caterina's thick
hair flamed, a glorious scarlet crown.

"Oh, my angel!"
Lady von Velsen's eyes welled with tears.

While mother and daughter shared a long
embrace, chatter bubbled up from below. Dogs barked
,
hurried footsteps tapped along the corridor.

"The
veil now, love
."

As it came floating down, Caterina's world
became enveloped in the sort of mist encountered in dreams. Holding her
mother's hand, she went out through that door she hadn't passed for six weeks,
along the hall and down the stairs, towards the cheerful clamor of servants and
family.

At the bottom of the long staircase, the
Landrat appeared, dressed in his best black brocade. The retreat of his own
sandy hair was hidden beneath an enormous brown curly wig, the one he wore when
he sat judgment. His eyes, usually an icy shade of blue, warmed at the sight of
his daughter.

"Gottesblut!
A princess!"
A huge smile expanded
across his broad face. "Where did you find her, my Lady?"

"She's been here all the time, it
seems," her mother replied, meeting his light tone.

"Now, Caterina Maria," the
Landrat appropriated his daughter's hand, "I trust that we are finished
with your nonsense?"

"I am not aware of any behavior that
could be termed nonsense, Father. I am here to do my duty."

"Gottesblut!
Still that martyred tone, as if I were asking my beautiful red
filly to stand for some toothless, potbellied donkey instead of the finest
purebred stud in the valley." The pressure of anticipation had apparently
sent the Landrat early to his brandy bottle.

"Wilhelm. Please." Lady von
Velsen glanced around, hoping that no one had heard.

"It's the plain truth and she knows
it," the Landrat rumbled, continuing to gaze at Cat with boundless
approval. "Please be a good girl. And please, in the name of all that's
holy, stop looking as if I'm taking you to be hanged."

* * *

Coming through the door of the house
chapel, the place where she'd heard Mass ever since she could remember, today
so crowded with expectant relatives, Caterina caught sight of her destiny.
Christoph, tall and broad shouldered, had turned to watch her approach. The
expression on his handsome face was appropriately solemn, but Cat thought she
detected a distinct gleam of surprise in his brilliant eyes. The bridegroom's
curly, dark hair was unpowdered and simply caught with a black queue ribbon.
For the ceremony, he had chosen to wear his military blue and buff.

Some men were improved by a uniform, but Christoph
needed no embellishment. Standing there, square jawed, he was a living,
breathing ideal of chivalry. Medals of valor and rank, bestowed by the Emperor
after the last campaign, twinkled on his chest.

A renegade thought whispered that it was
just as her father had said. There was a deep physical surge, a moment of
abandoned elation at the sight of him, but at once the twin specters of guilt
and resentment arose to squash it.