Glass Roses: A Victorian Fairytale

by Britain Kalai Soderquist

  Still, I hope to one day have the opportunity of seeing these places myself. Your description has left me longing for adventure and excitement (but without any wolves). It seems a pity that the greater distance between us should deny me even a day’s worth of enjoyment from one of your letters. You must write often so that your news comes in a constant stream. Perhaps then it will not seem to take as long to hear from you.

  And I must tell you how very pleased I am that you have been reunited with Lord Rupert. The Duke’s description of him was limited by their difference in age, but he seemed to feel that Lord Rupert’s youth showed great promise for his future as an adult. How I wish I could have been there to see your face when he appeared in the drawing room! Your blush sets you off quite to advantage, and I have always considered you to be one of the most beautiful girls I know. Lord Rupert appears to think the same, if his eagerness to continue your acquaintance on such easy terms is any indication.

  I must retire to dress for dinner. Give my love to Uncle Charles and my compliments to the Warners if you think it proper. It has been so long since I was among civilization that I fear I have quite forgotten the basic practices of formal society.

  Love,

  Isabella

  7 June, 1845

  Castle Stirling, Scotland

  Dear Eleanor,

  Your most recent letters arrived today. What an enchanted life you are leading! Your activities seem so different from the dissipation that Aunt Sylvia and my cousins enjoyed during their stay in London, and now in Paris. Perhaps it is because Lady Warner keeps company superior to my aunt, as well as the fact that Vienna is the home of so much true talent. Such a total immersion in society never used to hold appeal for me, but I admit to being willing to give it a long trial if I could be in Vienna with you and Uncle Charles.

  It is clear why you are so enamored of Lord Rupert. He is a truly amiable gentleman, without any of the rattle that many young men have at his age (if the gentleman at home are anything to judge by). His manners seem the height of manly grace and elegance. How I long to meet him in person! Until I do, I shall content myself with imagining the two of you strolling among the roses, the picture of perfect beauty.

  You will no doubt disagree and tell me that I am being foolishly romantic, but I am only returning you your own. I will admit that your words about the Duke gave me a little pause, but I was soon able to laugh myself out of it. He is not “my Duke,” as you so elegantly expressed it. Imagine the absurdity of a man like him ever belonging to anyone! He is like the land that surrounds this castle: brooding and private and wild, but capable of being warm when given the chance. No one could lay claim to such a thing.

  I find that my doings each day have fallen into a comfortable routine. In the mornings after breakfast I either respond to your letters or play with the Potter children while Papa and the Duke work in his laboratory. We sometimes go for walks; with Lieutenant Potter in attendance and more sunny days than rainy ones, Helen feels much more confident about exploring the countryside. Papa and the Duke join us after luncheon and we divide the time between the sitting room and the rose garden, where we eventually take tea. In the late afternoon the Potters care for their children and prepare them for bed while Papa rests before dinner. The Duke and I seem to turn our steps toward the library about the same time, and thus our habit of reading continues. Then we gather again to dine and enjoy our evenings in the drawing room. Helen and I take turns at the pianoforte, and sometimes one of the gentlemen reads to us.

  The Duke and Lieutenant Potter have formed a particular friendship with one another. I think it has been a long time since the Duke has been regularly in company with men younger than Papa. Between us and the children, I do believe we are slowly removing the years of neglect from him. There is also a blurring of social convention that I find quite relieving. Papa and Lieutenant Potter call the Duke “Lord William,” and we all have taken to using “sir” instead of the more honorific titles. The ease with which we all interact suits me much more than the stiff formality of the weeks the Duke spent visiting the Duncan family in Kent.

  Oh, and you will be glad to know that I have begun painting and sketching out of doors again. The weather is so very much improved that I am able to spend most afternoons filling my canvases and sketchbooks. I was becoming quite desperate for new subjects while the rains persisted. As proof of my efforts, I shall include a sheet of drawings of the castle grounds for your enjoyment.

  I look forward to your next letter with eager anticipation. Papa sends his love and a request that Uncle Charles look up a treatise by a famous German scientist whose name I cannot at present recall. You will find his note to my uncle enclosed along with my drawings.

  Love,

  Isabella

  10 June, 1845

  Warnerhaus, 9 Salztorgasse, Vienna

  Dear Isabella,

  How interesting that Rupert and the Duke have actually met! I will have to mention the circumstance to him when he comes to tea later. He must have been about sixteen when they were introduced, and I doubt he will have forgotten such an imposing visitor. (Have I not mentioned before how old Rupert is? He is six-and-twenty, nine years the Duke’s junior.)

  Life in Vienna continues to be very pleasant and engaging. Papa’s research is progressing at a steady pace. He came home from the Royal Library this morning most excited about some new evidence he believes he has found to support his theories about the influence of early Germanic grammatical structure on our modern-day English. He believes that it is a shame we do not prioritize teaching our children German before French, simply because there are so many structural connections between German and English. The similarities make it easy to learn, and Papa says that once one has learned one new language, others can be added more easily. I must say I agree, for that has been my experience; perhaps Papa has been practicing on me the whole time with that exact model.

  Papa says that it is most enjoyable to have Rupert join himself and Lord Warner at the library in the mornings, for he is apparently of great assistance in combing the shelves for various volumes of obscure works. Apparently he has had much practice doing this for his uncle and even for his own studies when he was a student at the university. He also has many acquaintances among the curators of the various collections and is able to help Papa arrange opportunities to study some of the more rare texts owned by the Royal Family. I have joined them on occasion at Papa’s request to serve as a scribe, taking notes and copying passages of text, but Rupert has thus far been obliged to attend to other duties on those days.

  That is not to say I have not seen Rupert since I last wrote to you. We actually see a good deal of him at Warnerhaus and in other places, for he and the Warners share a large circle of friends that meet together quite often. Here in Vienna it is much easier for him to manage his own time, and it is not uncommon for us to meet him almost every day. Indeed, Lady Warner encourages him to visit us regularly; he is becoming quite a fixture at her tea table. Rupert seems welcome at almost any hour of the day, and if we do not see him in the course of the morning or afternoon, we are sure to see him at our evening engagements. I particularly enjoy his afternoon visits. We spend much of the time going through Lady W.’s musical collection, playing and singing our way through scores from our favorite operas. Rupert is quite as fond of the opera as I am. Only this morning Papa received a note from Count von Schönfeld inviting us to join them at the opera on Friday next week. I must confess I am slightly nervous about attending the opera with the Count and Rupert. Thus far we have only gone to the opera with the Warners, and while Rupert has joined us there many times, it is quite a different thing to be attending as the particular guests of His Lordship Count von Schönfeld. But Rupert is most excited about the opera we are to see: “La Fille du Regiment,” a work by Donizetti which is reported to be extremely amusing. It is difficult not to join in his enthusiasm when once it has been roused. Now I must decide what on earth I shall wear to such a glorious even
t!

  Lest you think that Rupert is my only acquaintance here in Vienna, I shall tell you a bit more about Lady Warner’s circle of friends. My particular favorites among those we visit regularly are Lady Müssen and her two daughters, Louisa and Gretel. The elder of the two, Louisa, is engaged to be married to Lord Schiller, the eldest son of the Schiller family and a most agreeable match for all concerned. Indeed, he and his entire family are well known to Lady W., and I think that Louisa bids fair to be extremely happy in her marriage. She is tall and slender, with fair hair and an elegantly oval face. She carries herself gracefully and speaks in low and moderated tones that lend her an air of dignity that becomes her well. Her sister Gretel is shorter and more round, with a round face and the brightest blue eyes that shine against her rosy skin and bouncing blonde tresses. She is quite a belle, as the French ladies say, and would break a fair number of hearts if she were not so very gentle and kind. Both girls are well-informed and have much skill on the pianoforte, although their voices leave something to be desired. Their mother too is a very elegant woman, and not given to the vulgarities that I have become accustomed to amongst the women Step-mamma often befriends. She was very complimentary of me the other night at Lord Schiller’s home when the singing had concluded, telling me that she has rarely heard a vocal talent like mine outside of the professional halls. Unlike some mamas, Lady Müssen is secure in her opinion of her daughters’ accomplishments and does not feel the need to put down the talents of other young ladies to enhance those of her own. Lord Müssen serves in the Imperial Army and is currently engaged in reviewing troops away from Vienna; thus, I have not had the opportunity to meet him.

  Lord and Lady Gunther are another family we visit regularly. They have five sons and are a younger family. Their eldest son is currently at school in Berlin and is not expected home during the duration of my visit. The other boys I have seen relatively little of, considering their ages, but they seem well-mannered. Lady Gunther is in her early thirties, and dresses with a great deal of elegance. The young ladies gossip often about how she was married at sixteen because she and Lord Gunther fell passionately in love with one another, even though he is twelve years older than her. They are held up as a model of romantic love amongst the ladies of our age in Viennese society. An invitation to the Gunthers’ for an evening is considered a great honor here, for they are cousins on the Hungarian side of the royal line and are therefore quite important.

  It is such a pleasure to write to you and share all of my experiences; my stepfamily does not understand the finer points of letter writing in the slightest. I have not heard anything from Step-mamma or my stepsisters, although I know Papa occasionally receives letters from S. detailing their comings and goings. Doubtless Fanny and Hettie are too busy trying to entrance the young men of Paris away from more desirable prospects to think of writing to a sister they barely tolerate. Not that I mind at all; I would much rather hear about your doings in the wilds of Scotland. And of course I will convey your respects to the Warners; that is quite a proper attention. You need not fear that you have lost all of your social graces simply because you have been away from your regular circle of acquaintance.

  Love,

  Eleanor

  13 June

  I had intended to send this letter three days ago, but Rupert arrived just as I was sanding the ink, and I fear I mislaid it in my distraction. I have just now discovered it underneath several sheets of music I plan to send to Lydia Galloway. Her family continues on in Venice, and will not be returning to Paris until the middle of July at the earliest. Do you recall my writing of Lydia’s eldest sister and her connection with a Mr. Robert Ellis? It appears that Mr. Ellis has indeed offered for Miss Galloway, and that they intend to be married in the autumn. Lydia is overjoyed to see her sister well settled, and I must say I am just as pleased. Miss Galloway is an amiable girl with much good sense, and it is quite satisfying to know she will be well provided for in life.

  This afternoon Rupert was finally able to keep his promise and take us to climb the tower in the Stephansdom cathedral. As the weather was fine, we walked from Warnerhaus up Kärtnerstrasse and met him on the pavement in front of the building. The cathedral is a vast structure made of limestone that has been blackened by centuries of soot and smoke. It is Gothic in design and was constructed during the 14th century. Being a cathedral, it is, of course, a Catholic church, and features a series of columns with curious carvings of evil beings who are either attempting to awaken those laid to rest within its walls or being overwhelmed by the holy words spoken by the priests during the service. It is all most interesting, even if it is somewhat barbaric in nature.

  Rupert led us toward the front of the cathedral where the docent was waiting to receive us. The necessary introductions were made, and soon we were winding our way up narrow stairs to a viewing platform that sits on top of one of the tallest towers.

  I was soon out of breath, although the docent chatted along happily at the head of the group, telling us how the cathedral had played host to such famous events as the marriage and funeral of Herr Mozart, as well as the funeral for Signor Vivaldi. As we reached the top, the docent unlocked a heavy wooden door and moved up onto the platform, still talking about the history of the cathedral. Rupert was next, and he turned to offer me a hand, with Papa coming last.

  If my breath had not already been spent on the stairs, I am certain the view of the city would have taken it away. Never in my life have I been so high; looking between the stone pillars that supported the roof and down to the cobbled street below was quite a dizzying experience. The people walking beneath us looked much as the ants do in the countryside, tiny and bustling about their business. The sounds of carriages and conversations had faded, and only the wind could be heard, whistling through our hair.

  Papa followed the docent across the small space as he pointed out some of the city’s landmarks: the Staatsoper at the top of Kärtnerstrasse, Pieterskirche, the Danube River running like a ribbon of silver through the city. Rupert stayed beside me and smiled when I turned to him.

  “Do you like it?” he asked.

  “I have never seen anything so glorious!” I replied, too excited to care about how my exuberance might appear to him.

  “I felt the same way when I first came here,” Rupert agreed, gazing toward the opera house. “Sometimes when I feel overwhelmed or frustrated with my studies, I come up here to think. The view reminds me that the world is much larger and more varied than my little problems and worries. The perspective helps me regain my focus.”

  “It seems incredible that one could be so high above the street and still see such detail,” I said, entranced by the tiny people as much as the view of the rooftops. I leaned a little further out to better follow the progress of a lady dressed in yellow, marveling at how I could still see the color of her gown from such a height.

  “Take care,” Rupert said, his tone slightly urgent but gentle. His hand settled briefly around my waist, an instinctive gesture, and I felt a thrill similar to the one I had felt on first seeing the view. “The wind can be strong at times.”

  I looked up, and we stared at one another for the space of a heartbeat before Papa’s voice calling for me to look at a particular object on the other side of the tower brought us back to ourselves.

  Do not think I missed your sly suggestion that I am becoming attached to Rupert; I expected you to respond in kind to my own assertions about your feelings for the Duke. Indeed, I shall do my duty as the elder party and acknowledge that there is some truth in your claim. It is not difficult to find Rupert utterly charming. Never before have I liked a person so well on so short an acquaintance. I acknowledge as much with pleasure, and I encourage you to follow my example. I believe you have more grounds to be particular in your regard than I do, for it is quite obvious to me now that the Duke has feelings for you. Even if I am developing an attachment to Rupert, I cannot say with similar certainty that he would return my affections. As for your assertion
that the Duke is unclaimable, I think you must allow him to determine whether or not he wishes to be claimed. If my guess proves accurate, I believe he will not mind at all.

  Your sketches of the castle are delightful! It is quite easy to picture you and Uncle Matthew sitting in the rose garden with the Duke. I particularly love the sketch with Mrs. Potter’s little boys running about the lower lawn. The Duke’s garden reminds me very much of my mother’s own rose garden in Kent. If there is one thing I miss in the midst of this beautiful city, it is my mother’s roses. I shall look at this sketch and think of you both every day.

  Papa bids me say that he shall write to Uncle Matthew about the particulars of his scientific inquiry. I shall write you again later this week with details about our evening at the opera with Count von Schönfeld. Lady W. insisted that I order a new gown for the occasion, and I am quite as nervous as a girl who has just graduated from the schoolroom and is entering society for the first time.

  Your flustered cousin,

  Eleanor

  12 June, 1845

  Castle Stirling, Scotland

  Dear Eleanor,

  Lieutenant Potter expressed an interest last week in seeing more of the surrounding countryside. Since he arrived he has made a habit of going for long walks, sometimes with us or with James Kirke; I believe it helps him to stave off some of the boredom that comes with being away from his more active profession. At any rate, he has apparently seen as much as he can on foot and is eager to find a new mode of conveyance.

  Papa has offered him the use of his horse for the time being, but I must confess that I wish our carriage horses were suited to the task so that I could ride as well. If I were certain we would be here for a while yet, I would send for my mare from Kent. Perhaps a mare could be borrowed from the village? James Kirke might be able to provide me with more information on our next visit.