Yesterday Was Long Ago: Part One

by Hedy Thalberg James

  “Are you planning to keep on paying them?”

  “Actually, we stopped paying them when my parents died within a few months of each other, and the rest of them became quite angry!”

  “So you have no idea who is still alive and no connection to anyone now?”

  “Not really. I am sure Papa and the Wilands took care of everything. I know they always did quite generously.”

  “Why don’t we plan, then, to go together, later on in the fall maybe, and make it a real nice and comfortable journey! And next year, we plan on going to Paris! Alex being so eager to go to a pre-military school, that might be the only chance for us to go together, all four of us, probably for a long time to come. I want to show you where I lived and you can meet the Mathieus, who I’m sure are going to live forever, as far as I can see from the regular and most touching mail I receive.” He laughed out loud now, remembering their meeting of ten years ago. “Two mummies, arisen from death,” he laughed again. “Mother, what are you doing?”

  “Getting up my son! I was down, but not completely out,” she jested.

  “Let me call Elsa to help you!”

  “I’m not an invalid, Karl! And I plan to see Prague again, so I might as well start getting ready right now! Because I believe I could go by myself and meet up with you later….and the children!”

  “Hopefully not in four years,” he said mirthfully, helping her up. “What would I ever do without you, Mother?

  “Maybe I should ask this question of you! Whatever would I do without you now that your father is gone?” she answered wistfully, wondering once again how much he knew or had been told about being adopted, but everything would have to be discussed in time.

  ∼

  “Your son Alex did rather poorly on his lessons today, Mr. Reinhardt,” the middle-aged, skinny, conceited tutor Roger Dubois complained with a polite, but sour smile, and became slightly irritated noticing Karl’s disinterest. “He has seemed somewhat distracted for about a week now. While I am talking arithmetic, he talks about the weather! When I am talking about social studies, it is again the weather! Even his favorite subject, the battles of history, did not bring him away from the weather. Or rather the change of the weather! You must understand that this is very displeasing and discouraging to me and I feel strongly about it, Mr. Reinhardt.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Dubois. That’s fine.”

  “I…. I don’t understand you, sir. Have you heard me? This is not at all like you,” the tutor stammered, moving from one leg to the other, not knowing how to take Karl’s nonchalant reaction.

  “How could you? You never had any children.”

  “No, Mr. Reinhardt. If I had—”

  “I know you would be very concerned, and rightly so! Unless you had promised a child like Alex to tour the Armory Museum once the snow has melted.”

  “How could I even think as far as to permit myself to compare my child, had I one?”

  “Because of our money Dubois?”

  Dubois nodded half-heartedly in embarrassment.

  Karl smiled sadly. “You don’t believe that our hearts ache just as much as others. The last two months should have disabused you of that illusion!”

  “I am very sorry about all that happened to you and your family, Mr. Reinhardt.”

  Karl waved away the apology. He felt there was none called for. Alex behaved badly and he was the first to acknowledge this. “Right now, teach my boy about Napoleon’s many defeats and plunders. Tell him especially about the winter in Russia and tell him about how Napoleon’s poor soldiers froze to death standing up, barefooted and in rags! For that matter, talk about all those so-called military geniuses of history who have sent their troops to their death without losing a night of sleep. My son has to learn that not every battle that is set out to be won ends thus. Not in the past and not in our own lifetime! He must now be prepared to take losses, or life will have no meaning,” Karl strongly impressed on the teacher.

  “I shall do it, sir. I promise to do so in the future,” Dubois said hoarsely, subdued.

  “Well, this should do for our talk about Alex’s problems. I have ordered new clothes made for all of our staff. Do meet with one of tailors in the next few days.”

  “What kind of clothing, sir?” he hastened to ask, hoping it wouldn’t be the type to make him look like a lackey, or worse.

  “Two suits to your own liking, Mr. Dubois! You are, as our teacher, also representing our house,” Karl reminded him kindly, to Roger Dubois’ relief.

  “It wouldn’t be fair to accept, knowing that your son is leaving for military school soon, as I assume that my services will be terminated,” Dubois said, cloaking his question of what was in store for him, without really asking it, knowing any new position he would have to seek elsewhere would never match his present salary.

  “The question is ‘if’, Mr. Dubois, but even if he does, I still have a daughter who will also be in need of an excellent teacher. Therefore, your services will be required for some time to come,” Karl answered encouragingly, dismissing the tutor upon seeing that his mother was now walking, smiling, on the arm of Elsa.

  “Dearest Mother! How wonderful to see you smiling!” Roger Dubois heard Karl’s overjoyed comment as he was returning to his room and staring out of the window in sheer wonderment, hoping for an early spring for the sake of his generous master and his difficult son. With two new suits, made to his own preference and his ensured continued employment in one of Vienna’s finest houses, the nostalgic urge to return to France had been lessened considerably.

  Karl, still beaming, said to his mother, “I’ve decided, with your permission of course, we shall all eat here again, Mother! Sort of reopening our old coffeehouse,” he said, helping to seat her comfortably in her regular chair. He dismissed Elsa and rang for his late father’s valet, whose position now included a few new jobs, so as not to have him feel obsolete. Karl revealed enthusiastically all the new plans he had thought through during his sleepless nights, also telling his mother his visions about Verena and Alex’s immediate future, mentioning casually that he would delay his work as an architect in order to spend more time with the family and to look after the Reinhardt’s household and it’s best interests, ending with, “just as I have been trained to do, Mother.” He also outlined his intention to modify many of the rooms in Vienna, as well as Lindenfels, refurbishing everything, not leaving anything up to chance. “Christina’s furniture has already been packed and is now waiting to be transported back to the castle, weather permitting. Von Walden’s dreary house will be completely torn down, and new stables are on my long list of priorities, as I have been aiming to increase our team of horses, as well as the cows, sheep, geese, etc. And also, I shall plant more grapes; different types than we have now, you know. And then, we’ll add an additional winery!”

  “Quite an undertaking, son!”

  “Well, Mother, if I can’t do well for myself, I won’t be able to for others. All this amounts to is more employment and less poor on the streets.”

  “And don’t forget the hospitals and orphanages, our dear Papa’s most precious projects.”

  “Everything is going to continue as it has for so long, but I believe it would be his intent to improve on it.”

  “Oh Karl, before I forget, please give away all of Christina’s clothes, as well as my own, as I have resolved to only wear black from now on.”

  “All right, Mother. As you wish. And if you should change your mind someday, you’ll just have to have new ones made! We’ll ask the Rombergs to do this. They know best who is in need and which places to give them to. What about Papa’s?”

  “I don’t believe I’m ready to part with them yet.”

  “I understand.” He sighed, sorry to have even touched on it, then changing the subject, he continued lightly. “How about renovating the kitchen here while we are doing all this?”

  “Please, Karl, why don’t you walk down there with me and we’ll see what is to be done!”


  He obliged joyfully, suspecting she had her own ideas as far as that female domain was concerned.

  All looked up in surprise, followed by visible shock at her ghostlike appearance, and greeted her with a slight bow, their downcast faces barely able to utter any proper word of condolence. Her high-buttoned, black velvet dress, with the only adornment being two rows of Biwa pearls that in the past had been reserved only for funerals, was underlining her still present beauty and elegance.

  Holding onto her son’s arm, she walked slowly towards the most prominent table in the kitchen. “This is where it all began for me forty-two years ago.” She spoke thoughtfully, holding onto the corner of the table, stroking it with a faint smile. “Right here is where your father asked me, ‘So you are the young lady from Prague?’” She searched in the somber faces surrounding her for someone from that time, but most of them were so much younger now. Then all of a sudden, the head cook replied, “Yes, Mrs. Reinhardt! And just minutes later, Mr. Albert Reinhardt invited you for dinner. I remember it well. I was the one who dropped the bowl of egg whites when your dear aunt fainted! You were so kind, and saved me from being slapped by remarking that it was an accident. Do you remember that?”

  “How well I remember that day and everything with it,” she answered smilingly, glancing at each of their servants, who for generations now had served the Reinhardts so well and with an almost fanatic loyalty.

  “My son has a lot of plans for redoing some parts of the house, which hopefully includes whitewashing the kitchen and putting more comfortable chairs into our rooms and whatever else needs to be done.” She said it as a statement with a pleased look on her face, proudly and delightedly looking up at Karl.

  “Oh, yes! And we were told we are all getting two new uniforms in a lighter gray,” the head housemaid said in satisfaction.

  “My son, like his wonderful father, is a man of great vision. I know he’ll continue his father’s work and will also continue to make you feel proud to be a Reinhardter,” she said, smiling mysteriously, remembering the words of Mrs. Fischer from long ago, who now had been dead for quite a long time. “That’s the ‘R’ that stands for Royalty!” Stephany wouldn’t dare go back that far.

  The last so-called Reinhardters of relation to Otto was now only a widow who had been a very fortunate postmaster’s daughter and whose father had become an innkeeper and landowner with the money of the Reinhardts, and a very lucky, adopted son, Karl, whose father may either be a laborer or a nobleman, who knows. However, he had become an architect with the Reinhardts’ money. Then there was sweet Louise, whose life couldn’t be saved despite the Reinhardt money. And then there had been Christina, the only blood relative really, and again the money of the Reinhardts had proven more of a curse than a blessing, and had in fact determined her untimely death. And now there are Alex and Verena. Who knows? Much too soon to tell. Looking back, she wished she had persuaded Otto to adopt many more children, as she herself had only been able to make a very poor contribution to continuing a dynasty, which was barely being held together by its roots, just as Otto had once so eloquently stated. “Now, with Christina gone, even these roots have disappeared.” Her thoughts went on. She had promised him a happy home life and they had had a blissful marriage. Actually, a perpetual honeymoon which, to her understanding had lasted to his dying day, and as far as she believed, had been all Otto had ever wanted in life.

  “Mother?” Karl interrupted her musing as they were leaving the kitchen. “You look extremely pensive. May I intrude on your thoughts?”

  “Oh, I have only been trying to put memories into perspective.” She paused, waving to the servants. “Hard to believe that it all started in a kitchen. And I must assure you that in all my sixty years of life, I have never had any cause to cry as much as I have in the past two months. How very lucky, and how very sad,” she choked in despair, tears flowing down her face.

  “How is it written in the good book again? There is a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to dance and a time to mourn. Let us be honest now, Mother. We have laughed and done all the things as they have been prophesied, and we do now have to do our mourning as well.”

  “Grandmother!” Verena shrieked excitedly, running happily towards Stephany. “Look, I have lost two of my teeth!”

  “Oh, my Lord, already? This means you are indeed growing up, my dear child!” Stephany hugged her tightly.

  Alex came then, walking proudly, escorted by his tutor. “Your grandson heard your voices and there was no reasoning with him or holding him back.”

  “Grandma! Father is taking me to the Armory Museum,” he cheered. “And I missed you so much!”

  They all stood around, looking at each other happily.

  “Like the good book says, ‘and a time for love’.” Stephany smiled gratefully, taking her grandchildren’s outstretched hands.

  1851

  14

  It was the last day of May 1851, and with this, the day of Madeleine’s wedding had arrived. The list of guests, which included mostly the upper class and prominent people of Vienna, was endless. Stephany’s regrets to attend the festive occasion had been anticipated and Felix Nordmann was therefore breathing easier, not to have to face the mother of Christina and also the fact that a lot of the guests would most certainly attend simply to see Stephany, macabre as the Viennese are, and try to find out more about the mysterious deaths, which to them would be of considerably more interest than his second marriage.

  Karl had taken his children along in order to opt for an earlier departure, not at all anxious to meet the well-known, much talked about groom. Outside of that, he did enjoy meeting with many of his long-time friends, among whom were Max and Moritz Romberg, who had recently moved back to Vienna to take over their ailing father’s pharmacy. He met Dr. Kramer, Madeleine’s father, who was rather a jovial and enjoyable man, as well as Major Essler, who was happy and eager to finally introduce his son Kurt to Alex, hoping fervently that the two would share their common interests and consequently become friends, or at least friendly.

  Alex amazed his father with his cordial behavior towards his sister, and also in announcing to Kurt’s mother and Major Essler that even though Verena was only six years old, she could fluently converse in French as well as German, with which he in turn astonished his ‘wonderful tutor, Mr. Dubois’, as he called him. Karl was pleasantly surprised, and wondered what had brought all of this about.

  Tongue in cheek, Major Essler related to them that, contrary to Alex’s well-behaved manner towards his sister, he had had to leave Kurt’s sister at home in order not to be embarrassed by their constant quarrels, at which Alex looked at him curiously, pretending not to know what he could possibly mean.

  Karl finally met up with Madeleine and her new husband, who indeed reminded him of von Walden, at least in the manner of conceit. He could otherwise not find any similarity between the two that Christina had loved so much. “Poor Christina, and poor Madeleine!” he thought. Madeleine, however, looked very happy in her satin dress in an ecru color which was complimented by a little flower chaplet in her blond hair. “No doubt,” he thought. “by tomorrow she will have to replace it with a drab apron to be maid, cook, and governess in one! And wife? Of that man? Who will ever understand?” Shortly before leaving this over-crowded wedding, which his children seemed to enjoy more than himself, he decided to take the longer way home, passing his and Louise’s ‘dream house’, which he had not been back to and stood empty, save a few caretakers. The thought to drive by had originated with Major Essler’s mother’s inquiry whether or not the house was for rent, rather than sale, since she wouldn’t want the responsibility to maintain it, being in need of only one floor of the house. Karl had promised to think on it and let her know his decision.

  When he quickly halted the horses and turned around to stop at a post to tie them up, he was suddenly surrounded by a large group of poorly dressed and somewhat grim looking girls and boys admiring his two white stallions. He n
oticed that he had stopped in front of an orphanage. Alex and Verena were peering out of the coach curiously, surprised at the frenzy that went on about the horses.

  “They are the most beautiful horses I have ever seen, sir!” one of the girls shrieked, her blond hair popping around her. “May I touch them?” she continued, enraptured.

  “Of course, if you like! They are used to children and quite gentle,” he replied warmly.

  Standing on her toes, the girl started stroking the neck of one of the horses as she leaned over on the horse’s face, while the rest of the orphans watched hesitantly.

  “Lillian Brehmer! Is that you again? You and your horses that keep you in constant trouble and this place in an uproar!” an exasperated nun scolded. “You have an extra hour on your knees again, this time on a piece of wood!” she continued to rant, irate and pulling the girl away by her hair.

  “You will have to settle your problem with me, as it was I who gave her permission!” Karl’s voice sounded just as irritated, his voice loud and strong, leaving no doubt about his real intention.

  “The child should know better by now. She’s obsessed with those frightful creatures! Someday, she’ll be kicked or trampled to death like her parents had the bad fortune to be!” the nun tried to justify her outrage, still pulling on Lillian’s hair.

  Now a boy, just as blond as Lillian only a little older, came over, followed by a redhead, obviously his friend. “What did my sister do again?” he asked, more resentful than subdued.

  “What do you think?” the nun answered him. “Can’t you see the horses Hannes? Must I explain more?” the nun asked the boy, rather sarcastically. “Go and change your dusty clothes and get ready for devotions, all of you! And do hurry!” she insisted sharply, ignoring Karl’s presence.

  It was not hard for him to analyze her, since her face looked more like that of a vicious bulldog than that of a mild-hearted nun. Since he realized that this was one of the Reinhardt funded orphanages, he thrilled at the prospect of really teaching her a lesson about treating children in such a manner.