Red Magic (5 page)

The long bridal Mass began. Cat, peering
through her veil, saw Christoph attentive. With eyes that seemed unnaturally
bright, he listened to the priest, and pronounced the responses of the ritual.

At last the words of the vow were spoken.
Gently but firmly the heavy gold band slipped into place upon her finger. The
cousin she'd shared so many wild rides with, the one who'd chased her, tickled
her, buried her in hay and teased her, calling her "Red" and
"Stork Legs", who had so many times led on and let down her poor
sister, had, with dizzying finality, become Caterina's husband.

When he lifted her veil, she was surprised
to see tears shining in his dark lashes. The unexpected sight moved her so that
she, in a sudden impulse of charity, lifted her head and demurely accepted the
tender brush his lips gave hers.

Once more, unbidden,
came
the earlier, unseemly excitement. The clean manly smell of him was good, as was
the up-close view of his regular features. Although brief and cousinly,
the kiss, for some reason Cat couldn't fathom, moved her powerfully.

* * *

As they'd walked out of the chapel, the
wedding ring burning her finger to the bone, Cat had taken her hand out of his.
For an instant he'd looked at her quizzically, but he had not tried to
recapture it.

She was furious with herself for
blushing—as if she were in happy anticipation of what was to come. How
humiliating it was to feel the burning in her cheeks, how impossible to meet
the guest's speculative eyes...

* * *

The wedding supper soured her mood. Some of
the rowdy cousins, led on by Max, weren't above acting as if this were a
regular wedding, as if they neither knew nor cared that Wili was barely cold in
her grave.

"Remember what he said last year when
she was fox? About keeping his seat?" The whole group seated at the far
end of the table burst out laughing.

"By God!"
Theodor shouted, leaping to his feet and thumping the table.

"You weren't present," was the
provocative reply.

Christoph glowered at these rude cousins,
but they were undismayed. Grins and elbowing continued.

On the other side, Aunt Wagensperg's round
fish eyes, aglitter with interest, surveyed her. Caterina began to wonder if
this lady, who spent time in Baden and Vienna,
would be taking stories of this wedding back to one of Christoph's mistresses.

Meanwhile course after delicious course
came in. Many gushing toasts were offered to the "most handsome couple
ever" and many ardent wishes for "the blessing of children" from
Oncle Rupert and the Landrat, who had both pledged their only children in this
all important rite.

No more than the formalities of the table
passed between the new husband and wife. Cat picked at a breast of pheasant and
ate some of the ripe, luscious berries that had been scattered along the cloth.
She sipped a little of the dizzying Moselle
her father had broken out for the occasion. Every other dish, the one of turkey
stuffed with pigeons and song birds, of delicate poached bream in egg sauce, of
roast piglet surrounded with heaps of savory glazed vegetables, she waved away.

Christoph made no attempt to converse. He
wasn't eating much either, although he was filling his glass regularly.

Cat had expected him to attempt to
proprietarily touch her, but he didn't. When he did speak, he kept saying
things that sounded like echoes of the speeches with which Mama had daily plied
her. He was nothing like his usual gay, cavalier self.

Cat understood that he was sorry. Oh, yes,
so sorry! And what good did it do poor Wili who had lived whole years in
anticipation of this day? Watching him sitting there, drinking too much, ill at
ease, sending an occasional caution in the direction of those others who were
exactly the way he used to be, Cat grew angry.

"Don't think I'm fooled," she
finally hissed, "because I'm not. Even though you act so solemn, all I can
think of is that Wili loved you and that at every turn you broke her
heart."

She had expected anger, but all she saw in
Christoph's eyes was pain, so much, in fact, that no retort came.

Caterina's father, seated on her left, was
not so affected. "Caterina," he growled.
"None
of that.
Remember what I told you."

"Yes, I remember. You said that in
this world a woman has less choice than a mare."

His fist hit the table so hard that all the
china and most of the guests jumped. Caterina leapt to her feet. To her great
surprise her father was right beside her, moving his bulk with all the
terrifying speed of a wounded bear.

"All right, my girl." His hand
closed on her arm like a trap. "If you want to leave the table, it's fine
with me. You aren't eating anything anyway and your husband—" the Landrat
shot a furious look at Christoph, "—will soon slide under the table."

He turned to face the speechless guests.
"Well, you young dogs," he shouted, making the guilty cousins quiver,
"You've done enough joking! If you aren't too drunk to stand, let's get to
it. Let's put these two into bed. They can sort out their quarrels there."

With a whoop the young men jumped to their
feet, rushed to the head of the table, and, with a united effort, lifted the
muscular six feet of the bridegroom.

"Here, you, Wagensperg!" one of
them shouted. "We need all the help we can get. He's as heavy as a bull
calf." Skinny Count Wagensperg let out a whinnying giggle and rushed to
add whatever strength was in his spindly arms to the task.

The Landrat maintained a ferocious grip on
Cat's arm as he dragged her down the hall. Lady von Velsen ran alongside,
clucking and scolding Papa for his crudeness and Caterina for creating such a
disgraceful scene.

The women trailed after, eyes full of
anticipation. Wili's special girl friends and most of the von Velsen household
servants were crying, but it seemed to Caterina that everyone not an intimate
of the family wore the usual wedding night smirk.

When they arrived in the bridal chamber,
Christoph was set upon his feet. Max von Beiler played valet and untied his
cousin's stock, pulled off his jacket and unbuttoned his waistcoat. Christoph's
servant, a one legged veteran of those fierce Turkish wars, hobbled in and
began to neatly lay his clothes aside.

Mama began to say that Cat should be
undressed behind the lacquered screen and put into a nightgown, but Papa didn't
agree.

"She'll only start her nonsense again.
Just get the dress and stays and all that underneath baggage off. She can go to
bed in her shift." In spite of his wife's scolding, the Landrat refused to
relinquish his hold on Cat's arm for an instant. He called to his butler, who
stood in the crowd of servants that had followed the gentry up the stairs.

"Bring me the key to this room at
once," he ordered.

As the butler made his way through the crowd,
the Landrat turned his attention back to Caterina.

"Now, vixen, will you continue to make
a fool of yourself and disgrace your family?"

For a moment they glared at each other. Cat
had been entertaining some second thoughts, thoughts that had nothing to do
with shame or fear. Once she had the dress and panniers off, she'd be more
agile, far more able to defend
herself
.

The room was on the second floor but there
was neither any of the useful ivy nor a tree close to the window. Papa had
already thought of those earlier and, to Cat's utter chagrin, had not only the
ivy, but the pretty little plum tree cut down.

Still, she'd gauged the height. Perhaps, if
worse came to worse, she'd jump anyway and hope she didn't break a leg—or her
neck.

"No, Father,"
she said, demurely lowering her eyes.
She
extended her free hand, the one on which Papa didn't have a death grip, and
spoke to her mother. "Help me undress," she said, giving the gesture
all the dignity that was possible while surrounded by her male relatives.

So, behind the lacquered screen,
encompassed her kinswomen, all of whom were soothing and clucking
encouragement, Cat was relieved of her beautiful dress, of the clumsy
impediment of panniers, of the pinching stays. Her thick hair was uncoiled and
brushed until it fell down her back in a scarlet mantle. The chamber pot was
set out, the windows opened to the cool, pleasant June night.

Mama insisted that Caterina get into bed,
and there she sat, kneeling in the plump new featherbed, ready to leap as soon
as that awful man made a move towards her.

Her husband was, she knew, far from sober.
All the time his valet and the others had been helping him undress, he'd seemed
unsteady. Cat had seen him boisterous during the hard drinking times of
Carnival and Christmas, but never before as drunk as this.

Papa had noticed too. Before going out,
he'd taken Christoph by the arm and advised in an undertone, "Listen, my
boy, I'll be locking you in. There is nothing outside she can climb down and I
think
it's
high enough that even our bold Cat won't
try to jump. Just sleep a little and tend to her when you're able."

From Max and his friends there had been
some disbelieving chuckles when Christoph, with an expression of relief, had
nodded, apparently ready to take his father-in-law's advice.

The door locked behind the revelers with a
smart snap, leaving the bride and groom alone. In the light of a few discreetly
placed lamps, the new husband and his young wife regarded each other. From the
other side of the closed door came the sounds of people jostling and joking.

"Well..." von Hagen began, moving
towards the bed with the same apologetic expression he'd had on all evening.

"Don't you
dare!
"
Cat
cried,
heart in her throat.

At once she wished she hadn't been so loud.
From outside came the echo of the cousins repeating her words and laughing.

"Gottesblut!"
This was her father, his shout obliterating every other sound.
"Don't you fellows know a thing about breeding a nervous filly? Get
downstairs and stay there—the lot of you!"

"Your papa is a pithy speaker."
Christoph winked at her. Once again he began an unsteady approach.

"You better leave me alone."
Bounding out of bed, Cat began to back towards the window. "I promise you,
no matter what Papa says, I'll jump."

"That won't be necessary," von
Hagen replied. He had reached the bedpost now and was leaning on it, regarding
her with a bemused expression. "You don't have to break your neck to avoid
me. It's clear I'm not wanted. I don't know what stories you've heard about me,
but rest assured I've always believed finesse to be infinitely more challenging
than rape."

Unsteadily he let himself down onto the
thick featherbed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, cousin, I'm going to go to
sleep."

From where she stood in the dimly lit room,
Cat watched the upheaval under the covers.

"And if you're sensible," he
continued calmly, "you'll join me and do the same. I imagine you're pretty
worn out after this hell we've just been through. I promise you, little cousin,
no matter what your papa and mine may want, there is no immediate prospect of
any—breeding." And with that, the new bridegroom pulled the covers around
his ears. Not five minutes later his steady, even breathing told Cat that,
somehow or other, the cool villain had gone straight to sleep.

Caterina went to sit on the sofa in front
of the fire place. Because the house was officially in mourning, there could be
no dancing, but the sounds of cheerful, drunken conversation continued to float
up from below.

Time passed, and a night chill flowed into
the room. After awhile Caterina grew cold. As quietly as possible, she stood,
crept across the room and found a blanket that had fallen from the foot of the
bridal bed in which to wrap herself.

"Caterina?"

Thoroughly startled, she jumped back,
blanket clutched against her bosom.

"You don't have to stay out there. I'm
sorry I fell asleep on you, but sleeping when you can is a soldier's trick.
Come on, Cat, get in with me. Then you can tell me all about why you're so
upset."

"My sister is dead. Isn't that enough?"

"Oh, Caterina."

He sat up. Prudently she stepped back
again.

"Do you really think I'm not grieving
for Wili?" he asked.

"You can't feel like I do." Cat
felt tears prick. "You were horrible to her."

"Yes, I was horrible and unkind and
stupid to boot. She'd forgiven me, though, and I—"

"Where you were concerned, Christoph,
Wili was soft-headed. What were you going to do, anyway? Get her belly full and
then run back to your mistress? Or is it mistresses?"

"Absolutely not,
Caterina.
I'm done with that. The promise I made
before the priest will be kept. As it's turned out, you are the one I made the
promise to."