Free Nightingale by Juliet Waldron Page B

hilt of a sword than to the precise gestures of service.
    "I am supposed to go to my singing lesson tomorrow." Klara sat up to sip the hot, spicy liquid.
    "Not a good idea. You won't feel well enough, and using your voice now would be a mistake, as I’m sure Signor Manzoli will agree. Besides, the cold makes a journey out of doors a hazard. You will be in a fragile state for at least another week. It would be best to send and explain. Why, if I may ask, didn’t he send you to Kapellmeister Salieri, of whom the Emperor is so fond?”
    “Count Oettingen believed Salieri did not have enough experience. Manzoli is a brilliant teacher. ”
    "Well, the proof's in the pudding. Do you suppose," Akos said after a moment, "that Signor Manzoli could come to you?"
    "Oh, he never goes out to pupils! He rarely leaves his apartment, except to go to the opera or the ballet. He would consider it an insult if I asked."
    "Twenty years past his glory and the fellow dares to dictate to a reigning prima donna?" Akos shook his head. "Nevertheless, Fraulein Silber, as you are undoubtedly his most important student, you must explain the situation. I'm sure he will at least send good advice. His own career lasted for years, so he must have a store of knowledge about preserving the voice. I'm far from being all knowing, but my grandfather says that it's most important that only a little talking and no singing, not even scales, be done until the infection is past."
    "Yes, I know."
    "Good. Now, Fraulein Silber, if you please, we will speak no more." Akos took command. "Just close your eyes and relax, or this treatment will not work as well as it should."
    After a time in which Klara luxuriated in the good ache which Akos' hands created, there came a hesitant tap at the door. When Liese popped up to open it, Messer stuck his head in.
    "Herr Doctor, did you need anything else?"
    "Ah, thank you! Perhaps you could warm this.” Akos paused to remove a small brown bottle from a pocket. “After it is warm, drench some clean rags and make a pack which Liese can apply to your lady's chest. You'll see this is better than mustard to bring up congestion."
    "Better than mustard?" Messer was disbelieving.
    “Never you mind, Herr Messer! Go and tend your kitchen! No one called you!” As Messer, discomfited, closed the door, Liese turned her annoyance upon Akos. “Such tasks are not his! I shall take care of my lady.” Snatching the bottle from Almassy’s hand she hurried to the door.
    "Thank God." Klara sighed when it closed. "She means well, but there are times when she might as well call herself a jailor."
    “Hush,” said Akos. “You are talking too much, although it’s my fault.”
    The gentle massage began again, now moving from her neck to her shoulders. In spite of the arousal she'd imagined she would feel at his intimacy, Klara found herself slipping into a dreamy state.
    "How did Prince Vehnsky know you had been here?"
    "The Prince called me to him after your apology came, and I at once explained that I had already gone to you. He told me I had been impertinent, but he forgave me, for he is genuinely impressed by your talent, and much desires your speedy recovery. I explained that I had noted your illness at the rehearsal."
    "Was he very angry?"
    "Well, he has his tyrannical moments, certainly, like all his kind. But beneath that arrogant demeanor there beats a good heart."
    His fingers continued to send warm waves of comfort. Despite occasional bouts of coughing and sneezing, Klara felt lulled, and so very safe! Her head fell back into his hands. Whenever he increased the pressure, though, she'd wince and tighten her jaw.
    When Liese came back with a small bowl with the heated and oil-drenched pack, she found a scene which was acceptably medical. Klara's face was buried in a handkerchief and she was now alternately coughing, blowing her nose, and spitting.
    "Now, please, apply the pack to your lady's chest. Keep her warm and go on giving her the