"I could dismiss you."
"I am the Frau Amtmann Walter's sister."
"And I," Cat drew herself up to every inch of her considerable height, "am Caterina, Grafin von Hagen."
"The Amtmann," Josefa replied, a quaver of uncertainty entering her voice, "is necessary to the Herr Graf. He would take it hard if I were dismissed."
"Ah, but you will not be dismissed," said Cat. Her mind worked furiously. "You will be sent to the house of—of my brother," she said with sudden, cruel inspiration, "Herr Theo von Ployer of Passau."
"I—I do not wish to go to Passau, Grafin." The woman's voice quivered.
Knowing that she had Josefa on the run at last, Cat was inspired to continue spinning the web she'd begun.
"In Passau," she said with decision, "there are many noble families with servants who have comfortable and secure places. There are craftsmen and guildsmen too. It would be easy for someone like yourself to find a good husband there. I'm sure," she added, almost laughing aloud at the blow she was about to deliver. "The good Amtmann and his wife would be delighted to see you marry well."
There was a pregnant pause. Josefa humbly bent to pick up the crumpled stock.
"I really was supposed to wash it."
"Go do it, then. Bring it to me tomorrow morning before breakfast, ironed and folded."
"To you, Grafin?"
"To me, Josefa," Cat replied firmly. "Now go out and send someone to clean this mess."
"I will do it."
"No, send someone else. I don't want you inside the Herr Graf's room again."
The first proper curtsy Josefa had ever given her was dropped. Then the young woman, richly red faced, ran through the door.
There was the sound of Josefa's feet trotting down the hall and next came a baritone chuckle. Through the door which led to Caterina's room came Christoph.
"A wonderful performance, Grafin." Apparently he had been on his way to practice saber, for the weapon gleamed at his side.
"What have you done to her?" Cat swirled to face him
"Nothing. Nothing at all." He lifted his hands in denial.
When Cat made a face of disbelief, Christoph cupped both hands around the pommel of the saber.
"I swear on this sword," he said deliberately. "Not a kiss. Not a hug. Not a wink. Not even a pinch, although she does have a charming backside."
"You swear?" Cat thought it best to overlook his last remark.
"Yes, Grafin. On my sword. She has, however," her husband said, "on several occasions made her willingness known to me. I assure you, Caterina, I was not and am not interested."
"You liked her sister well enough."
"I did."
"Does Josefa look like her?"
"Not very."
While Cat turned this over in her mind, her husband remarked, "But this is the source of the trouble. Most women don't take a rebuff lightly, no matter how politely it is delivered."
"How did you know what was going on up here?"
"I saw Elsa dashing downstairs and she told me of the impending battle. I came through your rooms and got here just in time to hear that threat to send her to Theo. A witty solution."
"I'm ashamed of myself," Cat replied. "It's just that she has been so nasty to me from the very first day I came. It was high time she and I had it out."
"Well, Lady von Hagen," her husband said as he opened the door and bowed her into the corridor, "That was a performance worthy of your lady mother. Josefa took what I'd asked her to do as encouragement. From now on someone else will bring me water and for everyone's peace of mind, Hanna may beat my stocks to death with the rest of the laundry."
Cat gave him her arm. They walked to the stairs, very much the lord and lady.
"I will speak to Walter," Christoph said. "I know that he has had a matrimonial offer for her from a widowed cousin of his, a master mason of Passau."
"Oh, no," Cat exclaimed, halting their progress. "I would hate, I would never be one to force—"
"A marriage?"
"Yes." Cat met the knowing humor in his eyes with determination. "Walter is crazy if he thinks a pretty girl like that will settle for some old pot belly."
"I am inclined to agree with you, but not every woman is as lucky as you, Grafin."
Cat confined her commentary to a roll of her eyes. Chuckling, he tightened the arm around her waist, gave a quick squeeze followed by a kiss on the cheek.
"Are you certain you haven't done anything to her?"
"Neither to her nor with her," he said, once more halting their progress down those steep stairs. "And how often do I have to say it? Whatever you've heard, the simple wearing of a skirt is not sufficient, even if Josefa is a pretty woman. Even at my worst I have never been, as you once so delicately put it, a dog who jumps every bitch he gets near." He let go of her hand. "Now, excuse me, Grafin. I want to get this talk with Walter over."
He went down the stairs. At the bottom, he moved briskly towards the Amtmann's rooms, not once looking back. Cat knew her distrust hurt him, but she also knew that it had been necessary to her to provoke and to witness his reaction.
* * *
Cat loved to drive the trotters. She had at last convinced both her husband and Rossmann that she was competent to handle them. At least once a week she and Elsa would drive them down to Heldenruhe and back. They were never allowed to go alone, but always went with a young cavalryman riding behind. Cat couldn't believe that the forest was so very dangerous, although there was much talk of robbers among the servants. The village was a destination which delighted Elsa, who loved to visit her friend Maria and her great Uncle Leopold, but Cat was bored. It was the drive and not Heldenruhe which delighted her, the strength, skill and concentration it took to handle those two frisky horses.
Every now and then letters came to the Kleine Post in the village for the manor, letters for Cat from Lady von Velsen, or from Oncle Rupert or the Landrat for Christoph. Twice there were letters from Christoph's commander, General von Reischach.
One day, on their way back, the cavalryman asked if he might try his hand with the trotters. Having often admired his skill with horses, she agreed.
"Only if you take it slow, Herr Schenk," she said with a knowing smile. "If we have a wreck, it will be my head as well as yours."
"Never fear, m'Lady." The Ensign smiled and happily received the reins.
The naughty mares, feeling a change of driver, acted up at once, but Schenk, with little difficulty, soon got them under control. Cat leaned down to pick up the mail pouch. Looking in, she saw an astonishing quantity of letters—four!
Idly she turned them over to see the covers. Although the steady swaying of chaise made it a bit wobbly she could see that all were for Christoph.
She recognized the handwriting of three of the senders, but the fourth was a mystery, although the script was unmistakably feminine, round and down sloping. It said "Only for the eyes of Herr Graf Christoph von Hagen."
A chill shot through her. Carefully, surreptitiously, praying that no one would see, Cat slipped it into her pocket.
* * *
Later, sitting in the gloomy great room with a fire and a tray of tea and cakes before her, Cat carefully worked a small knife under the seal of the mysterious letter. She had seen her sister once do this when they had been visiting the von Hagen's, an occasion when jealousy had got the better of the otherwise charitable Wilhelmina.
Cat knew she had to lift the seal in such a way that she could put it back in one piece. The seal was ornate, a figure of some antique god holding a lyre. Cat heaved a sigh of relief as it came up intact. Swiftly unfolding, she saw the same childish hand that had written the address. It was dated almost six weeks ago, the usual turtle's pace from Vienna. The message was brief and cryptic.
* * *
A Saint's Anne's boy, Dear Sir.
~~With Respect, Konstanze
Cat pondered. She knew Saint Anne's day was close to the end of July. It was now almost October
. The woman had apparently kept her own counsel for some weeks after the child was born, and then, suddenly, had decided to tell Christoph. And why should he care about a birthday—unless—he was the father?
A noise in the hallway brought her back to herself. Elsa, who she'd sent off on an errand, might return at any moment. Picking up a stub of red sealing wax and a fine bit of reed, Cat set about getting the angle right. Next she fired the reed from the candle and heated the wax, praying that coordination of hand and eye would carry the hot blob to just the right spot. As soon as the drop fell, she gently pressed the seal down. A little of the new wax spread out brightly on either side, but the delicate original did not entirely melt.
Not perfect, but good enough! After giving it a moment to set, Cat lifted the other letters in the pouch and set the letter from Konstanze carefully beneath them.
Saint Anne's... For a moment she lingered, not doing anything, although she ought to be hiding the sealing wax and putting the charred reed into the fire. Instead she was counting back nine months, remembering that Christoph had been in Vienna briefly just before that last, nearly fatal battle. She remembered Wili's chagrin that he had not asked her to meet him there and how her sister had grieved when the terrible news had reached them that Christoph was wounded, hovering between life and death.
Now here was the fruit of his selfishness! The baby had been born this year, not seven weeks after he should have married Wili. Cat could feel her skin tightening, feel all her blooming affection for him wither like flowers in frost.
Still, she thought, I must give no sign, for he will read the letter tonight. If I seem angry or upset, he will suspect I have opened it. Forcing herself to get up, she tossed the reed into the fire and pocketed the sealing wax. For one mad moment she imagined burning the letter, but instantly rejected the notion. Cat felt sudden pity toward this mysterious Konstanze with her round girlish handwriting, pity that another fly had fallen into the spider's web.
As Cat leaned there, feeling the heat sting her face, listening to the delicate crinkling of cinders, she was surprised by tears. They fell one by one, hissing as they struck the searing lip of the hearth. What would Wili have done? Would she have wept and then expressed that innate charity that had been her definition? Cat had always thought it weakness, Wili's enduring love, but now, today, she felt uncertain.
Whirling about, she ran to the tea table. Picking up the pretty little teapot in both hands, she smashed it onto the slates. There was an instant of relief as it shattered, but it didn't last. When Elsa came in a few minutes later, Caterina was still standing by the table, staring down at the wreckage, at the tea which, because she hadn't bothered to move away, had splattered all over her dress.
* * *
Christoph did not come back until almost dark. He had gone off and closeted himself with Walter as soon as supper, a meal for which Cat found no appetite, was over. She went up to her room, tried to read and failed, while Elsa sat nearby, sewing. Finally, wishing that it was morning so that she could ease her misery with a long ride, Cat got into bed.
Here she tossed and turned, thinking of the letter, wondering if it meant what it seemed. She thought about Wili and shed a few tears which she prayed didn't have anything to do with her own feelings for Christoph. Finally, hoping she could sleep, she did her exercise with the protector and lay down.
Listening to her husband prepare for bed was another distraction. How she wanted to run through the door to confront him, but knowledge of how angry he would be at her spying kept her from it. Cat thought she'd never be able to get to sleep. Still, somehow or other, eventually she wandered off into that strange realm.
* * *
There was Wili, sitting in the window seat. Her sister, blonde braids demurely crowning her head, was deep in embroidery, a piece stretched on a frame.
Cat ran to her, the letter in her hand, the letter from Konstanze. Wili gazed up at her with a serene expression.
"Wili! Read this!"
With deft fingers her sister ran the needle into the cloth. She took what Cat offered and studied it. Her skin, always pale, had a kind of shine beneath the surface. She looked up, shook her golden head, and without comment, handed the letter to Cat.
"I don't cry anymore." The soft gray eyes that Cat remembered so well were full of nothing but a profound calm. "It's your turn to cry."
Coolly picking up the needle, Wili continued embroidering.
* * *
Someone was inside the bed curtains, someone with gentle hands, whispering. Strong arms picked her up and Cat's wet face came to rest upon a freshly laundered nightshirt which covered a hard shoulder.
"There, there," a male voice comforted. "Wake up, Red. Wake up."
"Christoph," she gasped, understanding at last. Her body tensed
"You were having a bad dream."
To push against him would bring nothing but frustration, so she didn't, simply accepted his tender embrace.
Why hadn't Wili advised her? Why had she been so cold? Was it because she knew Cat was in love …?
Her husband continued to hold her. One hand soothed, while the other cradled. She let her tears drench his nightshirt. His lips brushed her cheek on one side, tenderly.
"Wili." Cat whispered, telling the only part she dared. "I dreamed of Wili."
Christoph heaved a sigh. "She was on my mind tonight too."
How easy it was to cry herself out against his strength, to feel his hand on her back, upon her hair! His chest moved against hers as breath went in and out. She could hear his heart, an even drumbeat.
"Are you better now?" He sounded supremely weary.
When she murmured, "Yes," he released her and got out of the bed.
"Elsa. Elsa! Come at once."
Cat sat still, trembling with all the warring emotion she felt. A tall skinny figure joined his by the bedside, illuminated in the rippling light that came from the open door of his room. "Elsa, dear, you must sleep with the Grafin tonight. She's having bad dreams."
"It's not necessary," Cat said, but she had to move back, for Elsa was already joining her.
"I think that it is." Christoph began a retreat towards his own room. "Please stay, Elsa, no matter what."
"Yes, Herr Graf," whispered Elsa.
"Thank you," he said. "Good night, ladies." Gently, he shut the door behind him.
* * *
Silently Cat lay back. She felt beyond strange. "I don't want to talk," she said softly. "I'm upset but I think I just ought to try and go to sleep again."
"As you wish, Mistress, but you know," Elsa spoke after a pause, "you can trust me."
"Yes, of course." It was pitch black and Cat couldn't see a thing, but she knew that her maid was bursting with questions.
Suddenly, she ached to confide. Maybe not everything, but something.
Finally she reached out, took Elsa's hand and whispered, "The Graf never takes me to his bed."
"I know," was the whispered reply. "You are always so angry and sad."
"We are both angry and sad."
"It is because of your lady sister, is it not, Grafin?"
"Yes." Elsa's thin fingers pressed hers, but Cat was grateful when she didn't speak again. Christoph, she thought, had clearly been disturbed by the letter, maybe as much as she had been. The last thing she heard was him adding more wood to the fire.
Chapter Twelve
As Christoph prepared for his journey to Vienna, Cat was inspired to ask to come. She didn't like the idea of him traveling with the wildly enamored Josefa, who was, in fact, being sent into service at the Mason's home.
She didn't like the idea of him being easily able to visit the woman who'd written the cryptic letter. There was also the anticipated discomfort of being left alone on Heldenberg. These things loomed larger than any desire to see the great capital city.
However, the suspicion-evoking reply she was given was that he had too much business to attend to and that she'd be better right where she was.
<
br /> "Besides," he'd added unkindly, "as soon as you opened your mouth in front of my Viennese friends, I'd be teased about having become a nursemaid, not a husband."
"You will be alone with Josefa and then you will visit Frau Ermler." The words came blurting out. "And, even if you are telling me the truth about them, there is—" and here she almost blurted out "Konstanze", but managed to change it to "those other Viennese women of yours."
"Cat! I warn you; I'm nearly dead from this unhealthy abstinence, but I shall keep my promise to you, although there are times, like now, when I wonder why I bother."
"Well, go on then! Tell all the heifers I say they can have you. Start with Josefa. I don't care! Why should I?"
"Your mouth, little girl! Get out of here before I take you over my knee. I'm done talking. Scat! Scat!" Scowling and looking purposeful, he strode towards her, raising a hand as if she were Furst and he intended to cuff her for the high crime of scratching the chairs.
Cat took off, beating a hasty retreat to the stables. Star, as always, welcomed with a soft whicker and the moist touch of her velvet nose.
Burying her face against the warm smell of the sorrel's neck, Cat cried a little. For the thousandth time she asked herself: Why did Wili die? Her sister would have unreservedly loved this man—this wicked man—who was probably going to Vienna to see a whole crew of mistresses.
For comfort, Cat did what she always did. She saddled up and rode into the forest, cantering along a trail that led up the mountain. As she rode ever higher, the trees shrank and shriveled, as if they'd come under an evil spell. Soon, she knew, they'd disappear, and she would be on the rock-strewn high meadows. She would ride straight across to the western cattle path. Then, in waning light, she'd follow that back down to the manor.
* * *
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