Читать книгу The Ouroboros Cycle, Book One - G.D. Falksen - Страница 8

Chapter Four

From the moment she awoke the next day, Babette could think of little but Korbinian and the kiss they had shared. The very thought of him made her dizzy. Everywhere she turned, everything she saw reminded her of him. She was bewildered by it all, disarmed by the very strangeness of being so elated. She had never felt that way before. It would have frightened her had it not been so pleasant.

Still, though delightful, the experience made it frightfully difficult for her to concentrate upon her Latin grammar, which would surely make Grandfather cross. Babette rose from her chair in the upstairs library and sighed, partly in delight but mostly in frustration. She crossed to the window and stood there, bathed in the warm afternoon sunlight. The sensation reminded her of him.

How very peculiar, she thought, that sunlight could remind a person of another person. It did not seem at all sensible or scientific. Had Korbinian been there, she was certain he would have had something interesting to say about it.

I’ve done it again!

Babette put her hands to her temples and shook her head. How could every little thing she saw, heard, felt, and smelled possibly remind her of him? It was too impossible to make sense of it!

As she stood at the window, she chanced a look out onto the grounds. To her astonishment, she saw a man not unlike Korbinian riding up the drive on a dappled gray stallion. Babette sighed and turned away, covering her face with her hands.

Now she was seeing things! It was dreadful!

She turned back to the window, determined to put her mind at ease, and saw that her eyes had not deceived her. Indeed, it was Korbinian walking up to the front steps as bold as brass.

Babette bolted for the door. She had to try the handle twice before she managed to open it.

What was Korbinian doing here, now of all times? Surely someone would see him!

She raced out into the passage and ran for the stairs. She heard Korbinian knocking on the front door. What was she to do?

She reached the upstairs landing in time to see a footman answer the door. She wanted to cry out, but that would only make things more difficult. She squared her shoulders and was about to descend and sort the matter out when her grandfather stepped into the foyer, walking stick in hand.

Babette clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out and crouched as low as she could to avoid notice.

Surely something dreadful was about to happen.

* * * *

William Varanus did not expect to encounter anyone as he departed for his afternoon walk, certainly not the young stranger of German extraction who had danced with his granddaughter the night before. But there the young man was, standing in the doorway in riding coat and breeches and a vest of an audaciously sharp green, acting for all the world as if there was nothing peculiar about his arrival.

“And what is this Vatel?” William asked the footman.

“Apologies, sir,” Vatel said. “This…person only just arrived. I was about to show him into the drawing room to await Monsieur James.”

“Thank you Vatel, I will handle this.”

“Very good, sir,” Vatel said and withdrew a few paces.

William turned to the young man in the doorway and sized him up. He was tall, as William recalled. He smelled decent enough. There was the scent of horse, naturally, and some traces of cologne but at least neither was overpowering. The boy’s own scent was healthy and robust.

“Who are you?” William asked, direct as always. “What is your business?”

The young man bowed and introduced himself:

“I am Korbinian Alexander Albrecht Freiherr von Fuchsburg. Am I right to think that I am addressing William Varanus?”

“You are,” William said. “And your business?”

“My business, sir,” Korbinian said, “is with you. It concerns your granddaughter, Mademoiselle Babette.”

Really…? William thought. Interesting. Most interesting.

“If the matter concerns my granddaughter,” he said, “then surely you wish to speak to my son James, her father.”

Korbinian appeared confused for a moment but quickly rallied. He exhaled in a soft laugh and met William’s stern gaze.

“Nein,” he said. “Forgive me sir, but I have made inquiries about the town—else I would have attended you sooner. I am given to understand that it is you sir who is the master of the house, not your son. And so I have come to speak to you.”

Clever boy.

“Regarding my granddaughter?” William asked.

“Yes,” Korbinian replied. “As I have said.”

“So you have.”

Korbinian took a breath and said, “Sir, I would prefer if we discussed this matter in private. It is of a delicate and most important nature.”

“Is it?” William asked.

“It is,” Korbinian said, his gaze never wavering.

William chuckled. Toying with the boy was amusing, but only as a passing distraction. His walk beckoned and he was in no mood for further delays. Then again, if he suspected the boy’s purpose correctly…

William tapped the foyer floor with the end of his stick and said, “I am just about to depart on my afternoon stroll in the gardens. It will take precisely thirty minutes.”

He checked his watch and frowned at the delay.

“Twenty-seven minutes,” he corrected. “You may accompany me, Baron von Fuchsburg, and you have the duration of my walk to present me with your business and convince me of its worth. Do you understand?”

“Most clearly, sir,” Korbinian said. “Thank you.”

William looked at his watch again.

“Twenty-six minutes. Come along, we will walk briskly.”

A quicker pace during the conversation would be a good test of the boy’s lungs.

* * * *

As soon as the front door closed, Babette broke from hiding and ran to the nearest window. She watched Grandfather and Korbinian walk briskly across the drive toward the gardens at the side of the house. Grandfather’s manner was relaxed, though purposeful, which Babette took to be a good sign. Korbinian kept pace easily, and his stride was marked by great confidence.

Babette watched them silently, wondering what words passed between them. As they walked out of the window’s line of sight, she moved to the next and the next, following them with her eyes until they had vanished into the gardens.

Babette placed her fingertips against the glass and stood at the window in silence, her mind awhirl.

* * * *

“Now then,” William said, as he savored the fresh air, “what is this business of yours, Baron von Fuchsburg?”

Korbinian cleared his throat with a cough and raised his chin.

“Sir, I wish your permission to marry your granddaughter.”

As William had suspected. And to think, they had only met the night before. Ah, the impetuousness of youth.

“My granddaughter?” William asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you met my granddaughter?”

“Ja,” Korbinian said. He gave William a purposeful look. “You know that I have, sir. You saw us dancing at your family’s ball last night.”

William hid a smile. Clever boy.

“So I did,” he said. “And after one dance you have decided to marry her?”

Korbinian fell silent for a moment before he answered:

“We also spoke, she and I, for no less than twenty minutes, on a great many topics of mutual interest. I was impressed by her intelligence, forthrightness, and wit.”

“And those are qualities you regard as ideal in a wife?” William asked.

“I do, sir. She is a rare woman, your granddaughter. Any man would be honored to wed her.”

William smiled. “And why do you believe that you are worthy of that honor?”

Korbinian drew himself up.

“Because, sir, I am Korbinian von Fuchsburg,” he said, speaking as if it was the only logical answer. He paused. “And because I love her.”

Love, William thought. A manifestation of the foolishness of youth.

“Tell me of Fuchsburg,” William said, pretending not to recognize the name. “What property and wealth does your title entail? Or are you a baron in name only?”

“The Barons von Fuchsburg are old nobility from the days of the Holy Roman Empire. Napoleon sought to erase us. The Prussians sought to absorb us. But we are still here, still masters in our homeland.”

“Your property?” William repeated.

“The Barony of Fuchsburg controls thirty thousand acres of land,” Korbinian said, “two towns facing one another across the Rhine, the oldest university in the German-speaking lands, and the finest vineyards in all of Europe. I have more than enough wealth to ensure your granddaughter’s comfort and happiness, whatever her whims and desires.”

Korbinian looked at William intensely and continued:

“She will want for nothing, I assure you. Each day, when she wakes, she will view the majesty of the Rhine from her tower in the castle. She will be attended by the most dutiful servants—”

William almost scoffed, but he kept his thoughts private. Babette hated being fussed over by the servants.

“—She will never lack intelligent conversation,” Korbinian said. “Her sitting room will be graced by none but the finest minds in all the world, I promise you sir. Artists, philosophers, scientists, and scholars shall be at her beck and call, there to delight her mind and senses whenever she desires it!”

William held up a hand to silence him, taken aback by the statement. Few men would have known to speak of introducing his granddaughter to scientists and scholars before they spoke of kings and courtiers.

“Why would my granddaughter have any interest in such things?” William demanded, sounding angry. “Clearly you do not know her.”

Korbinian kept his head high and gave William an accusing look.

“You are mistaken, sir,” he said. “When she and I spoke, we spoke of nothing but the Classics, philosophy, and matters of substance. She delighted in them, as a foolish girl might delight in dresses and jewels.” He looked William directly in the eye and said, “If you think otherwise, then you do not know truly your granddaughter.”

William was amused enough at the boy’s challenge to indulge it a few moments before adjusting his stance and intensifying his glare. Korbinian was only human and he looked away, but he resisted the predator’s gaze longer than most men could have.

The boy was proving most interesting, William thought. Most interesting indeed.

He stopped at the edge of the apple orchard and looked out across the sea of trees. Small leaves and buds were beginning to form on the branches. Soon they would be in bloom.

“You are an interesting man, Baron von Fuchsburg,” he said. “And I will admit that you possess a better understanding of my granddaughter than do most men.”

Certainly a better understand of her than her own father possesses, he thought.

“You will grant your consent?” Korbinian asked.

“Do not be hasty,” William said, resuming his walk. “You and Babette have known one another for but a single day. I would not trust either of you to make a wise decision on this point within the span of twenty-four hours. I must think of my granddaughter, you understand.”

“She will be provided for—” Korbinian began.

“I can provide for her,” William said, interrupting him. “I wish to be assured of her happiness.”

“As do I, sir,” Korbinian said, with such vigor and earnestness that William almost laughed aloud.

“What of your relations, Baron?” William asked. “Your father?”

“My father is dead, sir.”

“Dead?” William raised his eyes at this. “And how did he come to die?”

“Asia, sir,” Korbinian said.

“Asia is a place,” William said, “not a cause of death.”

“When I came of age,” Korbinian said, “my parents went on an expedition into Persia, leaving me and my sister alone so that we could come to understand our duties. While in Asia, my parents came to be at war with one of the local khans over some matter that does not concern me and, therefore, of which I am ignorant. The khan killed my father moments before his own death.”

“How did the khan die?”

Korbinian smiled proudly and said, “My mother stabbed him through with my father’s sword and threw him from the top of the tallest tower of his palace. I am informed by my mother that the same fate was a form of execution used by the khan on his subjects for many years, so it met with the general approval of the populace.”

“Really?” William asked. He made his voice sound doubtful, but if what the boy said was even partly true, it spoke very highly of his lineage.…

“I swear upon the name of Our Lord, it is true,” Korbinian said.

“Yes, best not to bring Him into this,” William said. He and God had not been on speaking terms for as long as he could remember. Swearing upon the name of Christ only annoyed him. But Korbinian was young; he could be forgiven for it. “And where is your mother now?”

“She remains in Asia,” Korbinian said. “She took the kingdom by right of conquest and now rules as khan.”

William chuckled. The boy was telling stories, of course, but at least he was creative. James would never have understood why that was a good thing, but William did.

“You mentioned a sister,” he said.

“Yes,” Korbinian said, “my sister Ilse. She is unmarried, but she entertains suitors from the finest families in Europe.”

“Is she your elder or younger?”

“She is my twin, sir,” Korbinian replied.

William nodded but said nothing, considering various points in his head. At length he spoke again:

“Baron von Fuchsburg, you have impressed me today. But you must understand that I cannot give consent for my granddaughter to marry a man that she scarcely knows.”

“Then give me leave to court her,” Korbinian said. “I beg you, sir. My mind is like fire since I met her. My thoughts are aflame. I think of nothing but her.”

“Wait a week’s time,” William said, “and see how hotly your thoughts burn then. Better still, a month.”

“This is not mere desire, sir!” Korbinian cried. “You may doubt me sir, but I am driven by love, not by some base fantasy!”

William recognized the passion in Korbinian’s eyes and voice. At the very least, the boy thought he was sincere in his emotions.

“You have lodgings in the village?” William asked.

“I do,” Korbinian said. “And in Paris. I was meant to spend the spring there, meeting eligible young women. Now I wish for none of them but your granddaughter.”

“Remain in the village,” William said. “Wait for my reply.”

“I would wait an eternity, so long as it may lead to my seeing her again,” Korbinian said.

William looked at him and nodded.

“I do believe you would,” he said. “Thankfully for the both of us, my answer will not be an eternity in coming.”

Babette’s future did not have the time for eternities.

* * * *

“No! Absolutely not! I forbid it!”

James’s cries assailed William’s ears like the protestations of a small child in want of a toy.

“James,” William said, smiling at his son in his best patriarchal manner, “how can you say such a thing? You ‘forbid it.’ What nonsense. Surely you are as concerned for Babette’s education as I am.”

“No, no, no,” James continued, for once in his life talking over his father’s voice. “I will not allow this! The social season is about to begin! Babette must be in Paris!”

They stood in the downstairs library, William freshly returned from his walk. James wore an informal day suit and a velvet robe de chambre, as he always did the day following a gathering.

William folded his hands and looked at his son sternly.

“James,” he said, “stop this foolishness at once.”

“Foolishness?” James cried, turning pale. “I seek to defend my daughter’s happiness against this madcap scheme of yours, and you call it foolishness?”

“Babette has a restless mind,” William said. “This has become quite clear to me. She is tossed about by the mad currents of intellect, swept from one new idea to the next.”

“All the more reason for her to be married! Why, her mother—”

“Babette is nothing like her mother, James,” William said flatly. “She will not be content with dresses and bows, Society and gossip! She delights in the intellect. If she is to have a contented home life, she must either be paired with a husband of intellect who is willing to indulge her, or she must be taught how to indulge the needs of her own keen mind without failing in her duties as a wife and a woman of means.”

James turned to walk away, then turned back toward William. He spun about in place a few times in this manner, cutting a ludicrous figure as he did so.

“This is all so incredible!” he cried. “I cannot believe this! Babette is no philosophe, Father. She wants what all young women want.”

“And what is that?” William demanded. “Marriage? Children? Parties, dresses, and miniature dogs?” He grabbed James by the arm and shook him, not violently but firmly enough to capture his son’s attention. “No James, she does not. Your daughter would like nothing more than to live the life of a monk: spiritual, contemplative, and chaste. Childless,” he added, putting great emphasis on the word.

James sank into a nearby chair as if he had been struck down.

“Oh God…” he moaned. “You’re right, of course, Father. Where did we go wrong? If only her mother were here.…”

William rather suspected that Babette’s mother would only have made things worse. He could scarcely imagine the horror of her and James both fussing Babette to death. It was the sort of thing that drove sane people to suicide or murder.

“Forget her mother, James,” William said. “It is up to us to manage this. The only solution is to teach Babette how to compromise between her love of intellect and her duties as a woman. By the grace of God, I have realized this now and not later. Babette is still young. She is sixteen. A year’s delay in her courtship will make no great difference.”

“A year?”

“A year,” William repeated. “A year for her to be tutored in science, art, and philosophy. A year for her to prove that she can still maintain her place in Society in spite of her studies.”

“Studies?” James cried. “You make it sound like she is to be sent to a university!”

Yes, William thought, what a horror that would be.

“I think this is all a dreadful mistake,” James said. “We should be restraining Babette, punishing her for these foolish lapses, not indulging them! What will the neighbors say?”

“If all goes according to plan, they shall have nothing to comment on,” William said. “Whereas, if we do nothing and simply ignore the problem, the neighbors—indeed, all of France—will have a great deal to speak of.”

“But we leave for Paris at the end of the week!”

“Indeed we do,” William said. “Babette will be introduced into Society. She will be presented to the Emperor and Empress. She will attend the major balls and functions this year. But in between, we will retire to this house where she will be allowed to indulge her intellect. I have even selected a tutor for her.”

“But—”

William grabbed his son by the shoulders and shook him.

“James, don’t you see? If we do nothing, Babette’s own natural instincts will lead her into scandal! Already she ignores protocol, she dismisses social position, she despises fashion, and she is given to wandering off to the library when guests are present! Do you think she will stop all that once she is married?”

James looked down at his hands. After a long while, he finally murmured, “No.…”

“There is but one solution, James,” William said. “The one that I have proposed. You know as well as I that it is the only means of preventing an eventual scandal.”

“But what of Paris?” James asked. “How can we hope to meet all of our social requirements while remaining here in the country?”

“James, my boy,” William said, “all things are possible in this modern age.”

“I’m not riding on one of those railroad machines!”

“Of course not,” William said, smiling.

“And we will attend all of the season’s social functions?” James asked.

“All the important ones, yes,” William said. The list was very short in his estimation.

James looked away, his expression conveying his many doubts and great uncertainty.

“What of this tutor?” he asked.

“Most suitable,” William said. “Most suitable.”

“But will Babette like him?” James asked. “You remember the disaster with Monsieur Laurant…?”

“I have interviewed him myself,” William said. “I have every confidence that the two of them will get on wonderfully.”