by Nina Clare
‘Mess?’
‘Yes! A dreadful mess. Unpaid accounts, notes and loans, so much debt.’ The baronin swayed a little, and Elisabeth moved towards her to help, thinking she might faint, but she flashed such a fierce look at her that she stepped back again.
‘And not only has he left me burdened with debt, he has left me burdened with you. Not to mention that invalid child upstairs.’
A surge of anger filled Elisabeth at the mention of Alexis. She was about to retort, but the baronin sank down onto the desk chair, dropped her head onto her arms and let out a wail of misery.
Never had Elisabeth seen her stepmother cry. It dissipated some of her anger, and she moved to lay a hand of comfort on her shoulder. The baronin snapped up her head and glared at her.
‘Get out,’ she hissed. ‘Leave this room and do not enter it again.’ Her look was filled with something so like pure hatred that Elisabeth gasped and fled from her.
Other strange men came to the house. They arrived very early, as though they were not to be seen. They too wore black clothes, but not tailored suits with silk cravats and polished shoes, they were ruddy faced and burly with heavy boots and shabby coats. Elisabeth first saw them from her bedroom window. She quickly dressed, desiring to see what was happening, but on opening her bedroom door the stern face of Brunn met her.
‘Mistress says you are to stay in your room,’ said Brunn. ‘I shall arrange your hair and dress you properly in the meantime.’
She moved to enter, but Elisabeth swiftly closed the door again, saying, ‘Not now, Brunn. I will call you when I need you.’ She returned to the window, watching for signs of the men’s departure. When they reappeared, they were carrying items wrapped in sheets and blankets.
Elisabeth had barely said a word to the baronin since the scene in the study. She did her best to avoid her, but there was no escaping her at mealtimes.
She took advantage of the servers being out of the room for a moment at breakfast that day, and asked, ‘What were those men carrying away this morning?’
She thought her stepmother would not answer. She continued eating as though she had not heard. Griffin returned and took up his place by the serving table.
‘I have had some extraneous furniture removed,’ answered the baronin in a voice that carried clearly to Griffin. ‘I need to make room for the new furnishings for the dining room. The workmen shall return next week to complete the final decorations.’
Elisabeth was astonished. Her father had been gone barely a month and his widow could think of refurbishments? She stared at her, then pushed her plate away and said coldly, ‘I shall see how Alexis is this morning. Excuse me.’
She marched about the rooms, looking for missing items. What had the men taken? Two paintings were gone from the sitting room, and a pair of vases. A bureau desk was missing, also some ornaments and a carriage clock. An awful thought struck her, and she ran to her father’s study. At first glance everything was as it always was. But just as she was about to leave, her eyes fell upon the oak bookcase adjacent to her father’s desk. She rushed to it, touching the topmost two shelves, running her hands over the empty spaces where her father’s leather-bound books should have been.
A cold voice sounded from the doorway. ‘What are you doing in here? Did I not forbid you to enter this room?’
Elisabeth glared at the baronin. ‘His books! Where are Papa’s books?’
‘Everything in this house belongs to me.’
‘Alexis is the heir to Papa’s property!’
‘Not until he is of age. As his guardian I will do as I see fit with the estate. Now go. This room contains important papers. I do not permit you to enter it.’
Elisabeth paused as she passed the baronin in the doorway. ‘You never loved him, did you?’ she said, surprised at how steady her voice was when everything else inside her was quivering.
The baronin stared back at her with cold, dark eyes.
‘Get out and stay out.’
Chapter 8
A Gift
The workmen returned mid-spring. There was no return of the whistling and singing that had previously accompanied their work; they were respectful of the house being in the second month of mourning. Seeing Hansi in his old spot by the stables brought back memories of happier times. He looked well: bright and full of life. The past month Elisabeth had been surrounded by subdued servants and visitors dressed in black. Hansi looked as though he had marched down from the mountains, his body strong and his mind as fresh as the mountain air.
‘It’s good to see you again,’ she told him, as these thoughts passed through her mind.
‘Was heartily sorry to hear of the loss of your father,’ said Hansi, removing his cap to bow his head in greeting. ‘Often thought of you both. Made you something. Hope you don’t mind.’ And he took something from the deep pocket of his apron and held it out. ‘For your brother. Sorry to hear he’s sick again.’ It was a little figurine of a man in armour.
‘It’s Lohengrin, the Swan Knight,’ she marvelled, taking up the figurine and examining it. ‘It looks just like the picture in Alexi’s book. How did you carve his face, it looks so real? I can even see his mail shirt and his fingers on his sword! It’s exquisite workmanship. You must have worked long hours on it. Alexi will love it.’
Hansi shrugged. ‘It whiled away the evenings. Always whittling at something. Got a whole box of things carved for my sister’s children, and she’s not got so far as getting married yet. Hope you don’t mind, m’lady, but there’s something for you too.’ And he took another small figure from his pocket.
It was a swan, its wings slightly extended, its neck stretching tall and encircled with a royal crown.
‘Lohengrin’s swan,’ she said.
She turned it around, admiring the intricacy of the carved feathers.
‘Tante Trudy says my carvings have power in them,’ said Hansi, shrugging as though he didn’t like to speak of his own gifts. ‘Good power. Nothing as strong as Tante Trudy’s, but you’ll likely feel some comfort when you hold it. Best not to mention it, though. Some folks get jittery about such things. But you and your brother understand.’
Elisabeth did feel strangely lighter as she held the carvings in her hands. They did impart a comforting power. So this was Hansi’s gift; Pumpernickel had sensed he had one when first they passed him by that day on the road.
‘They’re so beautiful. What could I possibly give you in return?’
‘It’s a present. For your friendliness. And your loss. Nothing to repay.’ He picked up his chisel to begin his work.
‘Have you much work left to do?’ she asked, still marvelling at her tiny carving.
‘A few weeks. Unless the mistress has more for me.’
‘And then you go home to the mountains?’
He nodded. ‘Snow should be well melted by the end of the month.’
‘Alexis loves hearing about the mountains. He remembers all the stories you told him. He likes the one about the waterfall and the buried dwarf’s coins best of all. He says he’ll write the stories down one day. When he’s better.’ Her voice trailed away.
A footman from the house appeared at the door of the workroom, rapping on the doorframe to get her attention.
‘Excuse me, my lady,’ said Anselm, straightening his wig, which had worked loose in his hurry. ‘Mistress sent me to look for you to say you’re to come to the house immediately and get ready.’
‘Get ready for what?’
‘She did not say.’
Brunn was waiting in her bedchamber. Elisabeth took in the preparatory signs about the room: the new gown of black silk neatly laid on the bed, the hairbrush and pins and ribbons lined up on her dressing table. From the antechamber came the smell of rosemary, indicating that a bath had been drawn and the usual infusion prepared for rinsing her hair.
‘I can bathe myself,’ she said, when Brunn moved to follow her into the antechamber where the copper bath gleamed before the small, crackling f
ire.
‘Be quick,’ ordered Brunn. ‘The mistress wants you ready by noon.’
Elisabeth felt the impertinence of a servant telling her to be quick, and closed the door on Brunn firmly.
It was almost noon when she stepped carefully down the stairs to the great hall. Her new shoes had a heel to them so she took extra care on the polished stairs. Her gown felt heavy and cumbersome, and her head smarted from Brunn’s vigorous hair-dressing.
She paused outside the drawing room. She could hear the baronin, speaking with that smooth voice she used with people she wished to charm; she also heard the deeper tone of the count. It had occurred to her that all the preparations were for him. Who else would the baronin make such a fuss for?
‘Of course, a period of mourning must be allowed for,’ the baronin said. ‘Six months is usual.’
‘I am not a patient man,’ replied the count. ‘When I see something I want, I take it.’
‘Three months should be quite sufficient,’ said the baronin quickly. ‘That is only six weeks from now.’
‘One month,’ said the count.’
There was a slight pause before the baronin’s voice resumed its smoothness. ‘Just as you wish. It would not do to have a public wedding within the first twelve months, but all can be conducted discreetly. It will do her good to have a period of living quietly at her new home, getting adjusted to running a household. She has been used to being waited on, without responsibility. But she is young, and not unintelligent. She will soon learn.’
Elisabeth turned from the door, feeling sick at what she had heard. She had no wish to see that man. But as if her stepmother had some uncanny sense of her presence, the door opened.
‘There you are, dear,’ she crooned, reaching out to take hold of her arm. ‘I was about to send for you.’ She ushered Elisabeth to a settee, and made a fuss of pouring her tea; Elisabeth could drink nothing.
The count was saying something by way of condolence for their loss, and the baronin lifted a handkerchief, edged in black ribbon, to dab at her eyes. Elisabeth could have slapped her. It was one thing to pretend that all was well between them in front of guests, but it was quite another to pretend she actually grieved for her husband.
‘We do not know that Papa is dead,’ Elisabeth said loudly in response to the count’s commiserations. The baronin held her handkerchief mid-air. The count raised his eyebrows over his teacup, which seemed ridiculously small and delicate in his large hands. ‘There has been no body.’
‘There has been no body, neither dead nor living, though more than a month has passed,’ said her stepmother in a taut voice.
‘The search party was most thorough,’ said the count. ‘I joined it myself; I searched the face of every survivor taken to hospital in hopes of being able to bring you good news. I wish, for your sake, my lady, that your father had been spared. But had he survived they would have found him within a day or two.’
‘You speak what is right, sir,’ said the baronin, giving Elisabeth a warning glance. ‘Let Elisabeth refill your cup while you tell us of the king’s funeral. How did the queen and our new young king conduct themselves?’
‘The little queen mother was dignified, and the new king managed well enough. He has not much to say for himself, but it is early days. Young people are pliable, they can be taught to behave as they ought.’ Elisabeth flinched under his gaze as he spoke these last words.
‘He was brought up in a frugal manner, I hear,’ said the baronin.
The count nodded. ‘The late king believed it his duty to raise his heir to be doughty. No indulgence. Like a soldier. Wise man. I knew the prince’s first tutor, was in the same regiment. As a boy the prince had a tendency to be emotive, writing poetry and crying over stories and songs, that sort of thing. His father drove all that out of him. No luxury, bedroom like a monk’s cell. Strict regime of study and exercise, no rich foods. Make a man of him, a leader of armies, a king.’
‘Such training will stand him in good stead,’ agreed the baronin.
‘So long as the sudden acquisition of power does not go to his head,’ said the count, ‘and his father’s good work be undone.’
‘You may be right, sir, it may well go to his head. Young people often think they know what is best, and delight in doing the opposite of what their elders would counsel. That is why it is our responsibility to impose our wisdom upon those under our charge. It is our duty to ensure they do not throw away excellent opportunities and act foolishly.’
‘I quite agree, Baronin,’ said the count, returning his cup to the table with a clink. ‘The sooner the spirit of folly is subdued, the better.’
‘Are you going to marry that man, Elsa?’ Alexi asked the following evening. He was lying in bed, looking so frail she could hardly bear it. His hand curled round the carving Hansi had made.
‘What man?’ Elisabeth knew full well who he meant.
‘The count. The servants say you are.’
‘Don’t listen to gossip, Alexis. And, no. I will not marry that man.’ She gave a little shiver. ‘Papa said I would not marry anyone I did not care for. And I certainly don’t care for him.’
‘Good. I don’t think he’s a nice man. And he’s old.’
‘You’ve never met him.’
‘Hansi talked to his groom and coachman when he came yesterday.’
‘Oh?’
‘They told him all sorts of things. They hate him. All his servants do. Except for his henchmen. And they only like him because he pays them so much.’
‘Henchmen?’
‘That’s what they call them. His men who do whatever he wants. They say his wife died because he made her so miserable. Not long ago he beat one of the grooms so bad he couldn’t walk for a week, just because he laughed when someone said the count smelled like mould.’
Elisabeth stared in horror at her brother. ‘Don’t tell me any more. It’s too horrible. Hansi shouldn’t be repeating such things to you.’
‘He didn’t. He told Ziller, and she told Lina. They were talking when they were making up my bed.’
Elisabeth was silent; she felt dreadful about the poor groom. It was something of a relief when Nurse came in and shooed her out.
Chapter 9
The Luxury of Time
The dining room was completed. Elisabeth hated it. Her father might not be gone if it wasn’t for the wretched work that had to be financed. The butler’s pantry smelt of new pine shelving. Hansi’s panels were hung on the wall. The extra storehouse had been built. But still the workmen lingered. They arrived early every morning to stand in the servants’ courtyard, leaning against walls or pacing the length of the yard.
‘What are they waiting for?’ she asked Ziller. They were at the small window in the laundry room. The room was hot from the fire and the steaming vat of soak water.
‘They’re waiting to get paid,’ replied Ziller, standing on tiptoe to better see out.
‘Were they told to come today?’
‘The mistress keeps giving them extra jobs, but now they’ll do no more ‘til they get what they’re owed. That’s what Hansi told me.’
‘They’ve received nothing for all the work they’ve done?’
‘Not one pfennig. And Hansi needs his for his sister and aunt.’
Elisabeth looked at Ziller closely ‘Do you talk to all the workmen, or just Hansi?’
Ziller shifted from one foot to another. ‘We’ve all talked to them. They’ve been here for ever so long.’ Elisabeth wasn’t sure if Ziller’s deepening flush was from the heat of the room, or otherwise. ‘But I like talking to Hansi the best,’ she admitted.
‘He is very nice. Very kind.’ A new thought struck her as she decided that Ziller’s deep blush was more than just the heat. ‘And quite handsome.’
‘He made me this,’ Ziller whispered. She pulled something from her pocket. It was a tiny spray of roses carved from wood. Elisabeth would have known it was Hansi’s work at once. Someone with a heavy tread was comin
g down the passageway, and Ziller thrust the carving away and flitted to her ironing table by the fire. Brunn entered with a demand for the baronin’s black merino and scolded Ziller for it not being ready yet.
‘Old bat,’ muttered Ziller, when Brunn had gone. ‘She’ll dock my pay again.’
‘Dock your pay? Who authorised her to do that?’
‘The mistress. Ever since…’ Ziller’s words trailed away, and she gave Elisabeth a stricken look.
‘Since my father has been gone?’ Elisabeth said quietly.
Ziller nodded and patted away the perspiration from her forehead with a cloth. Elisabeth had heard Brunn’s admonitions about not dripping sweat on the clean ironing. ‘Things are different now. Brunn’s more in charge than she was before. The mistress says we all have to do as Brunn says.’
‘What things are different?’
Ziller glanced at the door and lowered her voice. ‘No one’s been paid. Our quarter wage was due three weeks ago. And Brunn keeps docking us for any little thing, so we won’t get much anyhow. Jank and Griffin say they’re going to leave once they get what’s owed. I think Cook and Lina might go too. They think Brunn’s getting too full of herself, ordering them around all the time.’
‘I would hate to see anyone leave. Most of you have been here for as long as I can remember.’
‘I won’t leave you, my lady,’ Ziller promised. ‘Even if I do hate being stuck in here. And Nurse would never leave the young master.’
‘I suppose if a handsome man offered to carry you away to the mountains and marry you, you might leave,’ Elisabeth said, wanting to rouse a smile from poor Ziller. She managed half of one, and another deep blush to go with it.
‘The count will be here at noon,’ the baronin informed Elisabeth at breakfast, after she had dismissed the servers. ‘Brunn will ensure you are presentable. He has something of great importance to speak of.’