Magic Flutes

‘No. It’s bad enough coming to Maxi without a dowry but I don’t want to waste any more money. You’ll see, it will look very nice. She picked up a flounce of the massive garment and as she did so the Spittau ruby, plucked from the crown of Horsa the Red in 1343, rolled from her engagement finger on to the floor.

Without stooping, Tante Augustine fielded it with the tip of her cane. It was an accomplishment which she had perfected having had, in the eight days of Tessa’s engagement, a great deal of practice.

‘And anyway, Heidi will look lovely – her mother’s made her the prettiest bridesmaid’s dress ever! She’s coming in a minute to pin me; I’ll get her to show it to you.’

The information that Maxi was to become the happiest of men had reached him by letter, during the last week of October. Tessa’s instructions had been clear and businesslike. If he still wished it, she was ready to be married. She would like the wedding to be quick – if possible before the middle of November – and quiet, with as few relatives as possible. If he had meant what he said about asking Father Rinaldo to officiate she would be very grateful, he was so understanding and unfussy. And she was bringing Heidi Schlumberger along to be bridesmaid.

‘A common dancing girl as bridesmaid!’ shrieked the Swan Princess when the contents of the letter had been read aloud to her.

‘Yes, I must say it’s a bit much,’ said Maxi, for once in agreement with his mother.

But Tessa, when he telephoned her, was unrelenting. If he and his mother were too snobbish to welcome Heidi, the marriage was off.

The dismay of Maxi and his mother was nothing to that of Heidi herself when she heard of the honour that was to befall her.

‘No, please, Tessa – please not me! I don’t know how to behave with all those grand people. There must be someone of your own kind to ask.’

‘But it’s you I want, Heidi. I want someone familiar . . . someone to remind me of the good times I had here and how happy I used to be.’

They were in the deserted, freezing theatre, rummaging among the contents of the skips for garments Tessa considered suitable for her trousseau.

‘But you’re going to be happy now,’ said Heidi. ‘I mean, you do love the prince, don’t you?’

‘Yes, of course. Only I think perhaps it’s best not to be too much in love when you get married,’ said Tessa carefully. ‘I mean, think how awful it would be seeing everything sort of fade and get less.’

‘Yes . . . I suppose so.’ The Littlest Heidi looked unconvinced. ‘Oh, I’m sure it’ll be all right; I’m sure it will!’

‘If you come, it will,’ said Tessa. ‘I want you to travel down with me and stay until the wedding. The country will do you good.’

That Heidi should be overborne by the steely will of the Princess of Pfaffenstein was inevitable, but there was one subject on which she stood firm. She was not, as Tessa helpfully suggested, going to adapt one of her Sylphide costumes as a bridesmaid’s dress. Not only would her old dancing clothes no longer fit her, but if she had to go she would be decently attired. So she had run home to her mother, who was a dressmaker in Simmering, and returned twenty-four hours later with a charming, pristine, three-quarter-length dress.

Tessa’s decision to marry Maxi had appeared fully formed in her head the morning after she had parted from Guy at the cemetery. By marrying Maxi, she would get the aunts away from the Vienna flat, for of course they would live with her at Spittau. Spittau was not their beloved Pfaffenstein but it was the country and a familiar world. There would be maids to help them, and plentiful food without standing in queues. Not only would she be able to help the aunts but also Heidi, who had been looking so peaky, and Bubi who could come to stay. Oh yes, the advantages of marrying Maxi were endless. She would breed not only water spaniels but komondors, those enchanting woolly-haired puszta dogs. And if anything was needed to convince her of the wisdom of her action, it was a quick perusal of the railway timetable which confirmed that a churn of fresh milk put on the 6.05 from Spittau would reach Boris and The Mother in time for lunch.

Having taken her decision, Tessa became immediately and radiantly happy. Everyone knew that she was happy because she told them so. True, certain outward and traditional attributes of happiness were not entirely within her grasp. Since she found it difficult to swallow anything much larger than a pea, she lacked the plump, pink look of the more obvious kind of ecstacy, and her nights, spent underneath a pillow not crying, gave her huge, hollowed eyes a look which a casual observer might be forgiven for not recognizing instantly as one of pre-nuptial bliss.

Nevertheless, having made up her mind, she moved with such efficiency and despatch that a week after her letter to Maxi, she arrived at Spittau with her aunts, her bridesmaid and the pug in a carpet-bag.