Part 11 (1/2)

”You are Georgiana, ja ja? I was supposed to go to England last summer but I became sick.”

”You must be Hannelore,” I said, light dawning. ”You were supposed to stay with me.”

”Ja. I heard about this. It must have been shocking for you. When we are alone you must tell me all.”

I was glad to find that her English in no way sounded like an American gangster movie.

Matty came over to us, wearing her bridal gown, still pinned along the sides. ”How do you like the dresses?”

”Lovely,” I said, ”and your bridal gown is absolutely gorgeous. You'll be the prettiest bride in Europe.”

”One has to have some compensations for getting married, I suppose,” she said.

”Don't you want to get married?”

”If I had my way I'd like to live the bohemian life of an artist in Paris,” she said. ”But princesses aren't allowed any say in the matter.”

”But Prince Nicholas seems really nice, and he's good-looking too.”

She nodded. ”Nicky is all right, as princes go. He's kind and you're right. It could certainly have been worse. Think of some of the absolutely awful princes there are.” Then she chuckled. ”I gather my brother asked you to marry him.”

”I turned him down, I'm afraid,” I said.

”At least you had the option of saying no, which is of course what I would have done in your shoes. Who would possibly want to be married to Siegfried, unless they were desperate.” She laughed again, and again I felt that she was forcing herself to be lighthearted. ”So how is your room?”

I couldn't very well say gloomy and vampire ridden, could I? I was formulating a polite answer when she went on, ”I gather they gave you the room next to Siegfried's. Maybe they were hoping some sparks would fly!” She chuckled again. ”I always used to have that room when we came to the castle for the summer holidays. I love the view from that window, don't you?”

”It's rather snowy at the moment,” I pointed out.

”In the summer it's lovely. Green woods and blue lakes and far away from the city and all the stuffiness of court life. I used to ride and swim with none of the rules of court life. It was blissful.” And a dreamy expression came over her face.

”There's an interesting portrait on the wall of the room,” I said. ”A young man. Who is he?”

”One of the ancestors of the family that owned this castle, I suppose. I've never really thought about it,” she said. ”Castles are always full of old portraits.” And she moved on to another subject.

I hadn't realized until the end of that day how much I missed the company of other young women and what fun we'd had at school. There was a lot of giggling and chatting in various languages, mostly German, of which I spoke little, but Matty was ready to translate for me. She looked the fairy-tale princess in her wedding dress with a train yards long, which we were to carry, and a veil falling around her, topped by a coronet.

By the time we had finished, the men came back from their hunt, exhilarated because they had shot a huge wild boar with fine tusks. I was ready for a cup of tea, but instead coffee and cake were offered. I'm sorry but if you're born British there is no subst.i.tute for afternoon tea. It's in our genes. The cake was rather rich and I began to feel sick. I suppose it was tiredness as I hadn't really slept for two nights. I went up to my room, only to find no sign of Queenie. I was now becoming annoyed. It would soon be all over the castle if I had to go and look for her every time I wanted something. I was half tempted to yank on that bellpull and send whoever came to seek out my maid, but I decided that she was probably in the servants' quarters wolfing down cake and it would be quicker to find her myself. So I went down stair after winding stair and then that terrifying wall-hugging flight with no banister. I tried to remember exactly where I had b.u.mped into Queenie this morning, ducked under an arch and started down a straight flight of well-worn steps. As I turned into a dark hallway at the bottom I could hear the clank of pots and pans and the murmur of voices. Then suddenly I started as I saw a figure crouched in a dark corner. The figure looked up at me and gasped.

”Oh, Georgie. You startled me.” She put her hand up to her mouth and attempted to wipe it hastily. ”Don't mention this to anyone, please. I can't help myself. I try, but it's no good.” It was Matty. Her mouth was bright red and sticky and she had blood running down her chin.

Chapter 16.

Still Bran Castle Thursday, November 17

I couldn't think what to say. My only thought was one of flight. I turned and went back up those stairs as quickly as possible. So it was true. She was one of them. Maybe half the castle was populated with vampires and that was why there was so much tiptoeing around at night. I was actually relieved to find my room still empty. I got into bed and pulled the covers around me. I didn't want to be here. I wanted to be safe and at home and among people I could trust. I'd even have settled for close proximity to Fig, which shows you how low I was feeling.

Tiredness overcame me and I drifted into a deep slumber, only to be shaken awake by Queenie.

”Miss, it's time to get ready for dinner,” she said. ”I've run you a bath and put a towel in there.”

This was a great improvement. My little talk this morning had obviously worked wonders. I bathed, came back to my room and let Queenie help me into my green satin dinner dress. I looked at myself in the mirror and somehow it hung wrongly. It had been a cla.s.sic long evening gown before, smooth over the hips and flaring out to a gored skirt, but now it seemed to have a b.u.mp on one side, making my hip look as if it were deformed.

”Wait,” I said. ”There's something wrong with this skirt. It never bunched up like this before. And it seems awfully tight.”

”Oh,” she said. ”Yes. Well . . .”

I looked up at her face. ”Queenie, is there something you're not telling me?”

”I didn't think you'd notice,” she said, toying with her ap.r.o.n. ”I had to fiddle with the skirt because it got a bit scorched when I ironed it. I'm not used to ironing nice stuff like this and the iron must have been too hot.” Then she demonstrated how she'd sewn the skirt together over a patch that had two big iron-shaped scorch marks on it. One scorch mark I could understand, but what had made her go back to repeat the mistake?

”Queenie, you are hopeless,” I said.

”I know, miss. But I do try,” she said.

”I'll have to wear the burgundy again,” I said with a sigh, ”unless Belinda's got something she can lend me. Run down to her room, tell her what you've done and ask her.”

I waited impatiently, wondering how a dressmaker might be able to repair the damage in one of my few good dinner dresses. Almost immediately Queenie reappeared, her face scarlet.

”I knocked and went into her room, miss, and . . . and . . . she wasn't alone. A man was in bed with her, miss, and he was, and they were . . . you know.”

”I can guess,” I said with a sigh. ”Rule number one. Always wait until someone says 'Come in' in the future.”

”Yes, miss,” she said.

So it was the burgundy velvet again. I did my own hair and went down to dinner. Tonight was to be a more formal occasion, as it was originally expected that various crowned heads would have arrived. Count Dragomir had had his way and insisted on the same degree of formality because there were place cards at the table and I was told I was to be escorted into the banqueting hall by Anton.

As I waited for him to join me, I was joined instead by Lady Middles.e.x and in her wake Miss Deer-Harte.

”Isn't this too exciting,” the latter said. ”So kind of Her Highness to insist that we join in the festivities. I've never been to an occasion like this. So glittering, isn't it? Like a storybook. You look very nice, my dear.”

”Same dress as she wore last night, I notice,” Lady Middles.e.x said bluntly.

”But very nice. Elegant,” Miss Deer-Harte said, smiling kindly. She was wearing a simple flowery afternoon dress, quite wrong for the occasion.

”I hope I can sleep tonight,” she whispered to me. ”One can only go so long without sleep but the door to my room does not lock and with all that creeping around . . .”

The dinner gong sounded. Anton came to take my arm.

”What-ho, old thing,” he said.

”Did you go to the same English public school as your brother?” I asked.

”Yes, only I was expelled,” he said. ”Or rather, politely asked to leave. Smoking in the bathrooms one time too many, I'm afraid. But I did pick up the lingo rather well.” He grinned at me. ”Your friend Belinda, she is a cracker, isn't she? A real live wire.”

”So I've heard.”