THE DIARY OF MISS DACIA VREEHOLT
It was plain that Aunt Kate did not want Lou and Dacia to have a chance to talk in private, Lou thought with frustration as they drove back to the house on Rua Silvestre. They had paid two more calls, and during both calls Aunt Kate had sat between the cousins, her demeanor discouraging all conversation.
Then they had accepted an invitation to lunch at a hotel with the last family they had called upon. It had been very nice. The family, the Gradeszys, had sixteen-year-old twin sons who were good fun, and a fifteen-year-old daughter who was equally vivacious. They made a merry party for lunch, and it gave Lou hope that her twin brothers might grow up to be more socially acceptable, though she doubted very much that they would ever be quite that nice.
But this gossip that Miss Marcela Radescu had repeated was simply burning its way through Lou’s brain, and she wanted to discuss it with someone—anyone!—but most especially Dacia. Her aunt Kate had been in love, her family had sent her away rather than allow the union, and that man was Prince Mihai’s own uncle! If she didn’t want Kate and Prince Mattias to marry, why then was Lady Ioana throwing Dacia at Prince Mihai? And did Mihai know? Where was this uncle now? And had he ever married? Or was he truly the man from the train who had been kissing Aunt Kate? That seemed the most likely answer.
Dacia looked positively giddy, and the one thing she’d managed to say to Lou on the subject was, “Some answers at last!” But Lou didn’t think they’d gotten answers so much as more questions, which they hardly needed.
But there was no time to even think, because the Gradeszy twins and their sister set out to please Lou and Dacia, whom they had exuberantly declared their new favorite friends. Their family had an estate in the mountains, and they tried to extract a promise that Dacia and Lou would come and visit them when they went there to escape the coming summer heat.
“We shall see,” Aunt Kate said in a repressive voice, overhearing the offer. She had been listening to all their conversations since they’d left the Radescus. “We will be retiring to our own estate very soon.”
“Oh, but they must come,” Mrs. Gradeszy said cheerfully. “It will be our pleasure to have them stay!” Her forehead, smooth and soft despite her age, creased lightly in thought. “Now, where is your estate?” she asked. “Ours is near Bukovina . . .”
“We are near Bran,” Aunt Kate said. “Quite some distance, I’m afraid.”
“Oooh, have you heard about the new palace?” Miriam, the Gradeszy daughter, had shining eyes at the very mention of it. “The king’s new palace is near Bran! And it’s quite, quite modern, with a boiler for heat, and a telephone and electric lights!”
“Truly?” Dacia looked impressed. “Have you seen it?”
“No,” Miriam said, sighing. “But I would love to! When the family is not in residence, they allow visitors to tour the palace, even though it’s not quite finished, you know.”
“We shall go sometime soon, I promise,” her mother said indulgently. She turned to Lou and Dacia. “Have you been presented to His Majesty?” They shook their heads and she smiled at them. “Oh, but you must be presented! King Carol is the kindest of men, and his dear queen is like a mother to us all! They do so love to meet the young gentry!”
“I should like that very much,” Dacia said.
Lou just smiled weakly. She thought meeting any king, no matter how kind, sounded terrifying. She had a difficult enough time finding conversation among people her own age and status; what on earth would she say to the king?
Lou wanted very badly to invite the Gradeszys to stay at the Florescu estate, and suggest that they all tour the new palace together, but didn’t dare. She had, of course, never seen the family’s estate near Bran, and it wasn’t her place to be inviting friends to visit. It was the kind of impulsive thing that Dacia would do, and she gave her cousin an encouraging look, but Dacia was staring at Aunt Kate. Lou followed her gaze and saw their aunt giving Dacia a look that bespoke horrible, swift retribution if she said a single word. Lou sighed, much like Miriam, and Dacia echoed her.
By the time they parted from the Gradeszys, with many promises to go driving and to the theater together, it was getting late in the day. They rode in the open carriage in silence back to the mansion, and arrived at the same time as two coachloads of their cousins, aunts, and uncles.
There was a great deal of hugging and kissing and loud proclamations about how long it had been, or in the case of Lou and Dacia, what a shame it was that they had not yet met. All their Florescu cousins were boys, so a double line of young men ranging in age from ten to twenty began to form, to greet Dacia and Lou with grave smiles and stiff embraces. Radu appeared, along with Uncle Horia and their other five uncles.
The party filled the entrance hall and spilled into the library, and the aunts kept shrieking with the excitement of it all, which made Lou jumpy. She noticed that the aunts came in two sizes: short and stout or tall and slim. Since she had no hope of ever being tall or slim, it seemed that her lot was to be of the other kind of Florescu woman. She had some hope when an aunt whose name she didn’t recognize (she was only recently married to the youngest of the uncles) came forward to embrace her. She was almost as tall as Dacia, but had a beautifully curved figure unlike any of her fellow willowy aunts. But when she hugged Lou, Lou felt the aunt’s bust squash and move in a way that told her it was entirely padding.
“There’s no hope,” Lou said to herself, and Dacia gave her a puzzled look.
Lou did her best to paste on a smile, and tried to extract herself as best she could, ready to sneak away as soon as Dacia gave any sort of signal. But Dacia didn’t give a signal. The relations kept arriving, and there seemed to be no way they could leave without raising a hue and cry.
The volume only increased when a footman arrived wearing Prince Mihai’s scarlet livery. He had a gift for Dacia, which the entire family gathered around to watch her open. It was a bracelet of carved gold in the shape of a dragon with the head of a lion. The family all gasped in admiration, except for Uncle Horia, who immediately announced that she could not accept such an expensive gift.
Dacia read the note aloud: “The symbol of your ancestry and namesake, this could grace no other wrist, nor find an owner as beautiful. Mihai.”
“It is the symbol of the Dacian people, the ancient people of Romania, and your namesake,” explained Uncle Daniel. He had a pedantic air, and Lou thought that he was a professor, but couldn’t remember. One of her uncles was, anyway.
“Then surely it’s all right to keep it,” said Dacia airily, and she put it on her wrist. She beamed at the footman, and told him to tell his master that it was lovely, and to expect a letter from her in the morning.
And with that it was time to dress for dinner at last, but their rooms were being used by some of the aunts to change, and so Lou found herself standing with Dacia in Aunt Kate’s bedroom, getting dressed in her new Romanian costume alongside Dacia, Aunt Kate, and her own mother.
Hardly the right time for a confidential discussion.
Lou’s mother was flushed with excitement, and helped Lou into her new ensemble without even asking if she wanted any assistance. It was a simple enough style of dress, but her mother pulled the drawstrings with great ceremony. She tied them with fingers that shook, her eyes misty with delight. Lou knew that she should feel the same: this was her family, her heritage . . . but instead she felt suffocated. She wanted to hide, or open the window and somehow fly away. Instead she pasted on a smile and did her best to keep it there.
“Not so big, LouLou, you’re looking ghoulish,” Dacia whispered, and Lou amended her expression as best she could.
They went down to dinner arm in arm, but without being able to speak. Lou was practically vibrating with the need to talk privately with Dacia, and she could feel the tension in her cousin’s arm as well. The gold bangle with its heavy carving trembled on Dacia’s slender wrist, making her look like a pagan princess being sent to her doom.
Lou’s and Dacia’s hair had been put into two braids woven with scarlet ribbons, and Lou’s mother wore a white lawn headscarf that floated behind her as she walked. She looked like a bride. When Lou’s father saw them, he grinned and kissed his wife despite the crowd of relations watching. He held out one arm to Maria and the other to Aunt Kate. The dining room was not large enough to hold the entire family, so tables had been set up in the gardens, and lanterns were strung from the branches of the trees.
It felt very strange to be outside her bedroom without her corset on. Lou had to fight the urge to fidget and make sure her apron was tied correctly. She felt like she was wearing nothing more than a nightgown, and the breeze blew through her skirt in a most alarming manner as they took their places. On the other hand, with no bustle or demi-train, she could sit far more comfortably on the narrow wooden chair.
They sat down to a long meal with many dishes that Lou had never seen before, like spicy chopped pork wrapped in cabbage leaves, sour cream and chicken soup, and cucumbers in a strange dressing. She had tasted mamaliga before, but this time the little cakes of cornmeal soaked in cream had been heavily spiced, and had her reaching for her lemonade several times.
By the time the plates were taken away it was full dark and moths were fluttering around the lanterns. Lady Ioana sat the head of the table in a large chair not unlike a throne. Lou had been watching her carefully all evening, waiting for the old woman to do something. Thus far she had only eaten with hearty appetite, making a little conversation with Uncle Horia on her right hand and Uncle Daniel on her left. But when the footmen had filled everyone’s glass with rich red wine, including Lou’s and Dacia’s, Lady Ioana dismissed the servants with a sharp word and rose to her feet.
The family also stood, waiting in eerie silence until the maids had scuttled indoors. Lady Ioana raised her glass and they all copied her. Across the table, Lou could see Dacia’s eyes shining in the dimness, clearly delighted to be included in the toasts.
But they quickly turned their attention to Lady Ioana, who was almost swelling with her impending toast, or speech, or whatever it was. Lou felt her ears straining, she was so determined not to miss a single word.
“We are the Wing and the Claw,” Lady Ioana announced, her shoulders back and her chest puffed out. “We guard the greatest treasure of the Romanian people!”
Lou dared not take her gaze off Lady Ioana, not even to get a glimpse of Dacia’s reaction. Lady Ioana was peering down the table at them, and Lou was afraid to move without the old woman’s permission.
“The time is coming,” Lady Ioana went on, “when that treasure must be revealed, and we must have every Florescu with us, ready to fight and defend! The daughters we sent to America, and their daughters, have returned to us, and we must initiate them into the family’s great power. For now the time has come! Now the signs are clear! We must depose the false king, and put the true king on the throne of Romania, that he may rise to rule all of Europe!”
A cheer went up from the family, and Lou felt her jaw slipping downward. Lady Ioana raised her glass as high as she could, and cried out.
“Down with Carol the Usurper! Long live King Mihai! Long live House Dracul!”
“Long live House Dracul!” The family chanted it together, and then they drank deeply from the glasses.
All except for Lou and Dacia, who were standing there with shocked expressions on their faces. Dacia let her glass fall to the table, spilling the red, red wine on the white cloth. Lou felt her father put a hand under her elbow. “Steady, LouLou,” he whispered to her. He sounded concerned . . .
. . . but not surprised.
THE DIARY OF MISS DACIA VREEHOLT
5 June 1897
Arrived in Bran late in the night, after an uneventful journey. Rather hoped that Aunt Kate’s “true love” would stop us along the way. Perhaps stage an abduction dressed as a highwayman and carry her off.
We will be touring Castelul Bran tomorrow, Peles the day after, to be presented to the king and queen. I find it odd, considering that my family is apparently plotting treason. I suppose these are Aunt Kate’s “appearances” that must be kept.
Note: Remain calm. Take mental stock of new Parisian gowns to prevent hysteria. Stay away from any plots to overthrow the current, beloved monarchy. (Surely Uncle Cyrus will take Lou and me home if Lady Ioana is serious . . . ?)
Note, second: find out if Mihai really does have better claim to throne.