Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

She seemed to be remembering only the happy memories. No doubt there had been those, too; those rare moments when she'd been happy.

Yet it would only be a matter of time before she remembered the other memories as well. When she had not been happy. Those had to be the overwhelming majority.

When they'd danced in the garden, that must have triggered one such memory. He should never have asked her to dance to begin with. He hadn't thought at all, which was unusual for him.

That kiss!

It had been so long ago since they'd kissed.

He'd acted purely on the impulse of the moment, out of the desire to feel her in his arms again. It had been one of those moments when all sense of time and place had been suspended. The air had been thick with unexpressed emotions, and he'd allowed himself to surrender to the moment .

A fatal decision.

He'd known it was a mistake when she'd raised her face to kiss him, her eyes brimming with the exact same expression Catherine had.

He hadn't understood it then. What a thick-headed dunderhead he must have been not to see that what had been in her eyes was love.

He understood it now.

An icy arrow of terror had shot through him.

Suddenly, she was no longer Lena, but Catherine, as she had been then. Catherine, with that look of adoration in her eyes. Catherine, whom he held in his arms.

She had always loved him.

He had loved her far too late.

She had left him.

And from then on, the whole tragedy had unfolded.

He realised with sudden clarity how foolish he had been to assume that giving her the locket and helping her to recover her memories would solve all their problems, when the opposite was true. They would unearth corpses that would best have been best left buried and forgotten. They would pick up right there where they'd left off, with all the pain and heartache and suffering.

She only remembered the happy memories now. How long would it take her to remember all the rest?

The temptation to give in to that sweet look had been too great. So, he'd distanced himself, physically and emotionally. The look of hurt confusion on her face had pained him.

But it was for the best, he told himself, running an agitated hand through his hair .

It was for the best.

Feeling a strong urge to get away from the Arenheims, he'd spent the whole day at Castlereagh's domicile, which pleased Lady Emily Castlereagh, who fluttered about him, filling his ears with anecdotes and detailed descriptions of what she had worn to the masked ball the night before. "The ladies wore regional costumes, to represent different countries. I believe the Duchess of Sagan woman wore a Carinthian costume, which did not suit her at all. It was very simple and, if you ask me, she looked like a peasant. I decided to opt for something different. Who do you think I finally decided to impersonate, Your Grace?"

Julius almost barked at her, "I haven't the damnedest idea." Instead, he pulled himself together and offered in measured tones, "As Boudicca, mayhap?"

Lady Castlereagh giggled, and the sound of her laughter grated on his nerves. "Oh no, but close! I decided to go as a vestal virgin. Everyone stared at me, admiring my beautiful and original costume."

"They were staring at my Order of the Garter which you had pinned to your chest," Castlereagh put in dryly. "No doubt people wondered why I would let you wear it on such an occasion." He looked at her with fond amusement. "But no more frivolous talk of balls and costumes. If you will excuse us, my lady, Aldingbourne and I must discuss the matters on the agenda for tomorrow's meeting with the Tsar. "

Lady Castlereagh pouted, but Julius was relieved to change the subject.

He returned to the Arenheim home late that afternoon, exhausted and well aware that he had broken his agreement to spend the day with them. He'd needed to get away, needed time to think. Maybe he could renegotiate the whole arrangement before she remembered more and the entire sordid story came to light.

Maybe the right course of action was to bestow upon them a generous annuity and to just leave them be. His footsteps came to a slow halt and his hand froze as he reached out to open the front door of the Arenheim home as that thought sank in.

Leave Catherine to her new life and her new family.

Leave his son, Hector.

A dull pain in his chest told him he was too selfish to do that. He could never do it.

Thus, he entered the parlour with a thunderous frown on his forehead, and came to a halt at the entrance.

The scene he saw before him rendered him speechless.

An all too familiar gentleman sat on the sofa, legs crossed. A wisp of dark blond hair that escaped his receding hairline brushed across his high forehead. He was speaking to an attentive audience, his finger raised for emphasis. No doubt, this was one of his favourite pastimes, Julius noted sourly—to hear himself speak. Next to him was his audience: Lena, sitting rather close, indecently close, her skirt brushing his trouser leg, her hands folded, facing him and listening intently.

He entered quietly and closed the door without disturbing the couple.

"I beg of you, what am I to do, madam?" Metternich said mournfully and continued without waiting for an answer. "She will not receive me. She is either indisposed, or out walking or shopping. She won't even acknowledge my letters! And oh, the letters I've written! At least six hundred of them, if not more. I arranged the splendid feast last night only for her, you know. I had a special place made for her in a private nook, a trellis of roses surrounding us for privacy. I had those roses delivered all the way from Naples! Yet she managed to elude me all night. We exchanged no more than nine words, I counted them all: "Good evening, Your Highness," and "It is a beautiful night." Nine meagre words! I tell you. When I wanted to dance with her, she claimed her feet ached. I didn't sleep all night. In fact, I haven't slept for weeks." His pale face and dark rings under his eyes appeared to confirm this.

A gloomy shadow crossed his face. "But when it came to dancing with her former lover Prinz Alfred of Windischgraetz a moment later, her feet seemed perfectly fine."

Lena made a sympathetic noise.

"I beg you, madam. What does it mean? Does she not know how dearly, how passionately I love her? Does she not care? What am I to do?" He buried his head in his hands and sobbed.

Julius crossed his arms and leaned against the mantelpiece, suppressing a sigh. Metternich's unhappy love affair with Wilhelmine von Sagan was well known, and it was no secret that the duchess' interests lay elsewhere. The Prince had been pining for her quite publicly.

Lena made clucking noises and patted his arm in a motherly fashion. "Well, if you're asking my advice, Your Highness, here is what I think."

The Prince pulled out a handkerchief and dried the corners of his eyes. "I am all agog to hear what words of comfort a sensible, warm-hearted woman like you might have to soothe the pain in my heart."

She grimaced. "I am afraid it will have to be a bucket of ice water, Your Highness. It appears that the lady in question is simply not…how shall I put this delicately? She may find herself unable to reciprocate with the same emotional depth that you are experiencing."

He stared at her bleakly. "You are saying she doesn't love me."

"Well, um…er. The truth is…yes."

"But…why?"

Lena shook her head. "With all due respect, Your Highness, that's not the right question. The right question is why your affections are so involved with this lady, when, forgive me for saying so, but you are married, are you not?"

"To my Lorel, yes. She is a good woman and has been most patient with me." He pursed his lips. "I daresay she loves me most dearly. My children are a delight." His face brightened. "I sometimes suspect I missed my vocation when I went into politics and became Austria's foreign minister. I should have become a nanny instead. I would have been quite good at it, too. Whenever I can, I play with my children in the nursery. My family is my only joy in times like these."

Lena stared at him, aghast. "You have a loyal wife and wonderful children. Then why on earth are you hankering after a woman like the Duchess of Sagan, who not only does not return your affection, but chases after that good-for-nothing Prince Alfred?"

He looked at her sheepishly. "Because she is as beautiful as a goddess, intelligent, and wise. She is the unofficial hostess of this Congress. She says she no longer wants to be my mistress, hidden away shamefully in the shadows, but to take the place of my wife." A steep frown appeared on his forehead. "But divorce my Lorel? Never."

A strange look crossed Lena's face. She rubbed her head as if it pained her. "It's just…I don't know why I feel so passionate about this. It really is none of my business what you choose to do and who you choose to associate with, Your Highness. I really should not say anything at all about this, so forgive me for being so bold for voicing my opinion anyway. I feel very strongly that when you are married, you ought not fall in love with other women. You should not have mistresses at all. It's not right. The thought of it…it pains me. Here." She thumped her hand against her heart. "There. I've said it." She leaned back in her chair and blinked rapidly as if suppressing tears.

Julius clenched his hands so tightly his knuckles were white.

"What bourgeois sentiments you have." Metternich looked at her with concern when she did not reply. "My dear Mrs Arenheim. I have not upset you, have I? With all my silly talk. That was not my intention."

She pulled her mouth into a wobbly smile. "It is the way of the world, isn't it? I shall say no more on the matter." She had pulled out a handkerchief to wipe her nose when she looked up and her eyes met Julius's. "Oh!" She jumped. "When did you get here?"

"Aldingbourne." Metternich rose from the sofa. "When did you arrive? We didn't notice you there."

"Pardon my intrusion. You were so absorbed in your conversation with my wife that I was reluctant to interrupt." He pulled himself up stiffly. "I would have introduced you to my wife earlier, but I see you have forestalled me, as you seem to be acquainted already. Quite intimately too, if you are already seeking my wife's advice on matters of the heart." His voice had an edge of steel.

Lena looked at him with wide eyes. He'd said ‘my wife' three times, hadn't he? Just to make sure to hammer the point home. A muscle jumped in his cheek. Julius bared his teeth at the Prince.

Metternich flicked a non-existent speck of dust away from his sleeve. "I came here to seek you out for a conversation of a more private nature, away from prying eyes and ears." He seemed oblivious to the irony that his well-oiled spy network was currently eavesdropping on all of Vienna and that he was the mastermind behind it all. "I found you away, but your charming wife was here to keep me company instead. She is not only beautiful, but an excellent conversationalist and has been giving me the best of advice." He lifted her hand and kissed it. "I shall take your words to heart, madam."

She nodded. "I hope you do." Looking at Julius, she asked, "I will see that you are not disturbed. Would you like some coffee and biscuits?"

"Thank you, but no. His Highness is a busy man. I am certain he will have to leave imminently." Julius declined the offer with a motion of his hand.

"Yes, please." Metternich sat down again and crossed his legs. "Coffee and biscuits would be most agreeable. Now, Aldingbourne. As to what I wanted to discuss with you. What the devil are we to do about the Tsar?"