Peter Rakoczy: The Music of My Life

Chapter 3: Christmas Eve

Peter descended the stairs from his bedroom to the family parlor.  It was Christmas Eve of 1850. Traditionally, the Rakoczy family exchanged gifts that day after dark.  Peter wanted to surprise everyone, so he made sure he was the first one in the parlor.

To his delight, he found himself alone in front of the Christmas tree.  The servants had already lit up all the tiny candles that made the tree sparkle.  It was one of Peter's favorite things and it made him feel like he was part of a fairytale.  He quickly set his presents under the tree, and took a seat in an armchair by the window.  The winter storm continued to roar outside.  Peter noticed that the window sill was covered in a thick layer of snow that kept on rising.  He felt bad for the servants that had to be out there, shoveling the roads and pathways around the manor, while he was warm and cozy indoors.

Peter glanced around the familiar room.  It was smaller than the grand dining and ballrooms, and it felt much more intimate and conducive to small family gatherings.  The furniture was made of dark mahogany which contrasted nicely with the light green satin fabric of the sofa and chairs.  Above the large marble fireplace was a portrait of Count Rakoczy's first wife, Wilhemina.  In the painting, she must have been in her twenties.  She was dark-haired and slender, with almond-shaped eyes that resembled Judith's.  In fact, Judith looked very much like her late mother.

Peter always wondered where his other half-sister, Erzy, got her curly blond locks and bright blue eyes.  In his youth, Count Rakoczy had been a brunette.  Now, in his late sixties, his hair was almost entirely white, but he maintained his complexion which was darker than any of his children's.

Peter was saddened by the fact that Countess Wilhemina still occupied the most important place in his father's heart... and over his hearth.  Of course, he understood that Wilhemina had been the Count's first love.  They were happily married for over twenty-years, until her untimely death from tuberculosis.

Peter wished he could have known his own mother, Clara.  He had seen a miniature portrait of her that his father kept in his bedroom.  Clara was fair-skinned with emerald green eyes and raven black hair.  She had exceptionally delicate features and looked frail even in her painting.  Both Peter and Stellian resembled their mother physically, but Peter was the only one who mirrored her personality as well.  Clara had been a quiet, studious girl, shy and uncomfortable around a lot of people.  She tended to keep to herself, and enjoyed reading and playing the piano above everything else.  She was nothing like Peter's father who was boisterous and loud, and who dominated any room he found himself in.

Peter's thoughts were interrupted by his brother's voice.

"Already in here, little brother?"  Stellian was mocking, as usual.  "Can't wait to open your presents?"

"No," Peter answered calmly.  "I wanted the chance to place the presents I have for everyone else under the tree."

Stellian raised an eyebrow.  "You mean, you actually got something for me?"

Peter nodded.  "Of course.  Need you ask?"

Stellian meandered over to the Christmas tree and scoped out the neatly wrapped boxes underneath it.

"And you wrapped them all by yourself?"  Stellian smirked.

Peter rolled his eyes.  "Yes.  I'm not five years old, you know."

"Then stop acting like you are!"  Stellian grasped at every chance to put Peter down.

"I'm sorry... but how exactly am I acting?"  Peter was starting to get irritated.

"Never mind," Stellian said.  "It would take too much time to explain it to you."

The door opened and Judith walked into the parlor.  Her arms were full of boxes.  Peter immediately jumped out of his chair to help her.  Stellian stayed put by the tree.