Suddenly she sounded angry, almost shouting at him as if he had done her some terrible wrong. Varanus and Ekaterine exchanged looks a second time.
“I did write—” Friedrich began.
“Oh Friedrich!” Ilse exclaimed, suddenly smiling at him again. “So you did! You wrote to me again and again. I could never be angry with you, my darling boy! But you must never leave like that again! Never!”
“I—”
“Promise me!” Ilse insisted, looking into his eyes.
“Uh.…”
Red with embarrassment, Friedrich looked at Varanus, his mouth working slowly as if struggling for some sort of explanation. As he did so, Ilse turned her head to follow his gaze and for the first time seemed to take notice of Varanus and Ekaterine.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, releasing Friedrich and withdrawing a step. She studied Varanus suspiciously, unable to place her behind the veil.
“Auntie,” Friedrich said, “you remember my mother, of course.”
Ilse’s jaw slowly dropped. A moment later, she snapped her mouth shut and smiled.
“Oh!” she repeated. “It’s…you.” There was a pause. “Mademoiselle Varanus, isn’t it?”
The way that Ilse spoke her name reminded Varanus of Cousin Robert’s endeavors to avoid granting her the status of her proper title. And for Ilse to refer to her as “Mademoiselle”—unmarried and eternally French—seemed in both tone and context to be an attempted insult.
“Don’t kill her, liebchen,” Korbinian murmured, stroking Varanus’s hair. “She is family. And killing her would upset our son.”
Varanus put on a smile.
“It is Princess Shashavani, in fact,” she replied.
“Marvelous,” Ilse said.
She tried to hide her reaction at the news, but her eyes flashed with anger at Varanus’s suddenly elevated status. She quickly turned toward Ekaterine.
“And who is this?” she demanded. “You haven’t gone and done anything foolish, have you? Like get married?”
Again, Varanus and Ekaterine tilted their heads and exchanged looks. What relation in her right mind would not want to see a man of Friedrich’s age married?
“Of course not, Auntie,” Friedrich said quickly.
He placed a hand on the small of Ekaterine’s back as if ushering her forward, though he did nothing of the sort. Ekaterine glanced at him but simply turned her face toward Ilse and smiled. To Varanus’s surprise—likely to Ekaterine’s as well—this only made Ilse’s mouth tighten with displeasure.
“Auntie,” Friedrich continued, “this is Aunt Ekaterine, Mother’s husband’s sister.”
“I’m also a princess,” Ekaterine said, smiling. “We decided upon it.”
“Splendid…” Ilse said, almost through clenched teeth. She took Friedrich by the arm and pulled him away from Ekaterine and Varanus. “Friedrich, dear, you must come along and tell me all about where you have been.”
“Uh, but I—” Friedrich began.
“Nonsense, I insist upon it,” Ilse replied. She paused and looked at Varanus and Ekaterine. “Welcome, both of you, to my home. The servants will show you to your rooms. No doubt you wish to dress for dinner.”
“I suppose so,” Varanus said, one eyebrow raised at Ilse’s curious behavior.
“Good,” Ilse said. “Then I shall inform the cook that we are four tonight, instead of the expected two.” She looked at Friedrich and said, “It will be a great inconvenience to her, you know.”
“I am…sorry?” Friedrich asked rather than said.
“You should be,” Ilse told him. “Now come along; let us go to the parlor and talk.”
Friedrich hesitated and then suddenly pulled away from her. Still smiling, he began backing away in the direction of Varanus and Ekaterine.
“Oh, nonsense, Auntie,” he said. “I must prepare myself for dinner as well. I am hardly fit for table.”
“But—” Ilse protested.
“I tell you what,” Friedrich said, “I will show Mother and Aunt Ekaterine to their rooms, and then we shall all see each other for dinner.”
“Now Friedrich—” Ilse began.
Friedrich took Varanus and Ekaterine each by the hand and led them toward the stairs, his pace quick but steady.
“Good, good!” he said, acting as if he had heard nothing of Ilse’s protest. “Until dinner, Auntie. How well you are looking. Auf Wiedersehen!”
* * * *
After departing the entrance chamber, Friedrich led them to the northern hall of the keep, which ended in a broad terrace that looked out upon a rather magnificent view of the Rhine and the Fuchsburg forest. Varanus took a few moments to admire the view while Friedrich searched up and down the hallway, looking into each set of rooms with a somewhat skeptical expression.
“Do you enjoy the view, Mother?” he asked her, after finishing his appraisal.
“It is very pleasant, yes,” Varanus replied.
Indeed it was, for the snow-capped trees of the forest had just the right amount of rustic charm to suit her mood.
“Good, good,” Friedrich said. He motioned to the nearest room and held the door open for her. “I think perhaps this one will suit you. The view here is especially nice as well.”
Varanus entered the room that Friedrich had indicated and gave it a proper inspection. The first chamber was a sort of boudoir or withdrawing room, with a bare fireplace and several pieces of furniture for entertaining private guests or attendants. Adjoining was the bedroom proper, the two separated by a curtained doorway that currently stood open. The rooms were dark, but not unpleasantly so, a combination of the wood of the walls and furniture and the rich hunter green of the curtains and upholstery. Such decorations as there were tended toward hunting and game, most notably a pair of muskets and a powder horn mounted upon one wall.
Varanus walked to the fireplace in the boudoir and looked up at the painting above the mantelpiece. It depicted a hunting scene—which, in keeping with the theme of the room, did not surprise Varanus—but it was of a most curious nature. It showed a young girl dressed in a dark green riding habit of the previous century. The girl sat astride a great stag as if it were a horse as she rode through the forest in pursuit of some unseen prey. All around her were foxes, depicted as proud creatures with their heads raised, leading her onward in the manner of hounds.
“Ah, the Spirit of the Hunt,” Friedrich said, smiling. “A favorite of mine.”
“It’s rather notable, I will say that,” Varanus said. She paused and asked, “Is she wearing antlers?”
“Of course!” Friedrich replied with a laugh. “The very essence of Nature unbridled. The Diana of the Rhineland. It was painted for my great, great, great grand something-or-other, Karolina von Fuchsburg. These were her rooms. As I expect you have guessed, she adored hunting from childhood until the day she died. Rather infamous for it, as I understand.”
“Infamous?” Ekaterine asked, joining them.
“Yes, it was why she never found a husband,” Friedrich explained. “Apparently she had a dreadful habit of taking suitors out hunting and…well…being better at it than they were and not pretending otherwise. You can imagine, her engagements did not last very long.”
“A pity she’s not still alive,” Varanus said.
“Agreed,” Ekaterine said. “I think we’d get along wonderfully.”
What neither of them said—but what Varanus suspected they both thought—was that the late Karolina would probably have made a very preferable substitute for Ilse. But it would be unthinkable to voice such a sentiment.
“It is cold in here,” Ekaterine announced suddenly, rubbing her arms.
“Is it?” Varanus asked absently. A moment later she remembered herself and said, “I mean, yes. Very cold.”
“Nonsense,” Friedrich said. “It is simply invigorating.”
“Invigorating?” Ekaterine demanded. “It is colder in here than it is outside!”
“Well…” Friedrich said, frowning a
little. “Perhaps just a bit. But do not worry, once you are both settled in, I will make certain that the servants come at once to light the fires and heat some bath water.”
“Are we both to stay in the one room?” Varanus asked.
“Oh, no, of course not,” Friedrich said. “Aunt Ekaterine, you are just next door. Follow me, I shall show you.”
Varanus held up a hand and said, “Just a moment, Alistair.”
“Friedrich, Mother.”
“Yes, of course, Friedrich,” Varanus amended. “Why is there no heat here? No fires burning upon the hearth to warm us? No warm baths ready and waiting for us?”
“Ah,” Friedrich said. He looked embarrassed. “It is the finances, you see, Mother. We cannot afford a full staff, nor can we afford to heat all the rooms in the house. It would require too much firewood. I keep saying to Auntie that we should have steam heat installed, but then…well, that is yet another expense, isn’t it?”
Varanus sighed and shook her head.
“Alistair,” she said, “if you’re in need of money—”
“Returning to the point at hand,” Ekaterine quickly interrupted, “why have we been relegated to the frozen wing of the house? I understand not lighting a fire if there’s to be no one in the room, but you have guests now!”
Friedrich shifted uncomfortably and looked away.
“I…well…” he said.
“You didn’t tell your aunt that we were accompanying you, did you?” Varanus asked, frowning at him.
“I…” Friedrich began. Then he set his face and nodded. “No,” he said, without hesitation, “I did not.”
Varanus threw her hands into the air.
“Alistair!” she cried.
“It’s Fried—”
“How could you?” Varanus interrupted, shaking her head at him. “How could you not tell your aunt that your mother was accompanying you home? No wonder she looked at us with shock! What would compel you to do such a thing?”
“Look, Mother…” Friedrich said. He sighed, struggling to find the words. “Aunt Ilse is.… Well, she is very particular. She does not like having guests. I remember when I was at university, she would always object when I invited my school friends to visit for the afternoon. God forbid I should invite them to stay with us!”
Varanus shrugged a little and said, “From what I remember of university men, I am not at all surprised.”
“Mother—”
“We are family, Alis…Friedrich,” Ekaterine interjected. “Surely she would not object to your mother and your other aunt visiting for Christmas. I daresay she was horribly embarrassed to have guests without notice!”
“Ah, of course,” Friedrich said. He frowned, flushing a little. “I am terribly sorry. I did not consider that she might be more welcoming to family. I simply thought that…that.…” He sighed. “Well, that if she did not know guests were coming, she could not say no to them. I was stupid, I know.”
Varanus sighed. Now her son was embarrassed and guilty at the omission, when clearly it was Ilse’s particularity that was at fault for setting a bad example. She quickly took Friedrich’s hand and squeezed it gently.
“Friedrich,” she said, reminding herself to use that name, “there is no harm done. You did what you thought to be best. It was a simple mistake and a well-intentioned one. So don’t think about it a moment further.”
Friedrich smiled at her, evidently relieved to hear her words.
“Of course,” he said. “Gone from my mind.”
After an appropriate pause, Ekaterine raised a finger and said:
“I have a question, Friedrich. If we’re to be in the frozen wing, enjoying the splendor of the Alpine Rooms, where does everybody else stay?”
“Oh, well,” Friedrich said, taking a breath. “The servants have their own hall on the ground floor. Aunt Ilse’s rooms are on the west side of the castle, overlooking the river. Really, a very splendid view. And I am in the tower. Just down the hall.” He went to the door and pointed. “So should you require anything during the night, don’t hesitate to come and wake me.”
Varanus and Ekaterine exchanged puzzled looks.
“It’s very good of you to house us near to you,” Varanus said.
“Of course,” Friedrich said, proud at his foresight.
“But why do you live in the frozen wing?” Varanus finished. “Shouldn’t you be residing in the warm part of the castle? Someplace where the fireplaces have fires?”
“I…” Friedrich said. He cleared his throat. For a moment he seemed uncomfortable, but he quickly shrugged this away and answered, “I simply like the tower. It’s a very nice set of rooms. Comfortable. The view is lovely, and I enjoy the…solitude.”
Ekaterine arched an eyebrow and said, “I never took you for a man who enjoys being on his own, Friedrich.”
Friedrich smiled a bit, likely at hearing his name said properly.
“Oh, sometimes,” he said. “Sometimes.” He quickly clapped his hands together. “Now then, the two of you get settled in, and I shall go and have the servants come up to light some fires and heat some bath water. And the luggage ought to have arrived by now, so I will see about that as well.”
“Splendid,” Varanus said. Smiling, she embraced Friedrich. “Don’t let us keep you…Friedrich.”
“But…um…do be quick about servants and the fireplaces,” Ekaterine added. “It’s very cold in here.”
* * * *
However uncertain their initial reception, Varanus was pleased to see Friedrich make amends in short order. Scarcely ten minutes had passed since her son’s departure when a housemaid arrived with a basket of wood and set about building a fire in each fireplace. The luggage followed soon after, and by then water was already being boiled for a bath. Where Ilse had shown a significant dearth of hospitality, Friedrich seemed determined to fulfill his responsibilities as a host. It made Varanus smile to think about it.
Having washed and refreshed herself after the journey, Varanus put on her best dress from London—the one in burgundy with accents in blue. She met Ekaterine in the hallway, and together they went downstairs for dinner.
The dining room was as Varanus had expected it to be: the old great hall of the castle changed but little from the days of court and courtiers. There was a single long table in the center of the room, lit by candles and warmed by the heat of a great burning hearth as old as any other part of the castle. There were banners and tapestries—many bearing the red fox of Fuchsburg—suits of armor, and countless sets of antlers mounted on the walls. But for all its majesty, the room felt empty and hollow. Varanus was put in mind of the contrast to Blackmoor. There the great hall had become a family parlor, with the dining room removed to a place altogether smaller and more intimate, despite the largeness of the family it served. Here, in Fuchsburg, their numbers were few, yet dinner was held in the hall as if there were still legions of von Fuchsburgs to fill it.
Friedrich met them at the doorway and escorted Varanus to her seat. She was seated beside Ekaterine, facing Friedrich who sat along the other side—though given the size of the table, it was anything but conducive to quiet conversation. The placement of Friedrich’s chair surprised Varanus. It was odd enough that he, the baron, did not sit at the head of the table, for that chair was taken by his aunt; but even then, the seat opposite Ilse, which should have been Friedrich’s, was left empty.
But Varanus said nothing about it. She sat, nodding pleasantly to Ilse, who gave an impossibly sweet smile in reply. Wine was brought first before the meal began, and both von Fuchsburgs began drinking without hesitation. Varanus was surprised by that as well, but perhaps it was a family custom.
As the first course was brought, Varanus noticed that the place opposite Ilse had in fact been set, and the servants attended to it as if there were someone seated there, bringing both food and wine even though there was no one to consume them.
“Peculiar,” Varanus said, largely to herself but loud enough to be heard.
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“What was that?” Ilse asked, or rather demanded.
“I said I thought it peculiar,” Varanus replied. She motioned toward the empty place with her fork. “I thought that we were four for dinner tonight, but it seems there is a fifth place set. Are you expecting someone else?”
“Another relation, perhaps?” Ekaterine ventured, sounding appropriately excited at the prospect.
Friedrich and Ilse looked at one another, and Ilse laughed.
“Of course, we are,” Friedrich said. “Though he is a little late in arriving.”
“I have sent Wulfram to bring him,” Ilse said. “As you know, he doesn’t get about much on his own.”
“Yes, I know,” Friedrich answered, frowning a little as if being scolded for something.
Varanus and Ekaterine exchanged looks. Varanus suspected there would be a lot of that going on during their stay. But whatever she anticipated in terms of strangeness, she was not prepared for what was to come.
Presently, an aging man in Fuchsburg livery entered the hall pushing before him an elegantly adorned wooden wheelchair. In the wheelchair sat the figure of a man dressed in an expensive evening suit. He was pale and handsome and emotionless as he stared ahead, glassy-eyed and unmoving.
At the sight of him, Varanus dropped her wine glass. She paid it no notice as its contents flowed out across the table like spilled blood. She was conscious that both Friedrich and Ilse were staring at her in astonishment, as though they found something strange about her reaction to the profane sight. Her mouth worked to say something, but she could not find her voice.
It was Ekaterine who spoke, calmly but in horrified astonishment.
“That is a corpse,” she said, matter-of-factly. “I know. I’ve seen them before.”
“That corpse,” Varanus said, unable to take her eyes from the figure, “is my husband!”
And it was so. For what sat in the wheelchair, wearing evening dress and looking as pale and as beautiful as the moment he had died, was the corpse of Korbinian von Fuchsburg.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Varanus stood and stared at Korbinian’s body as it sat in the wheelchair at the end of the table. She tried to speak further, to shout out in fury, to demand to know why her beloved’s body was being offended in such a way, why he did not rest in the earth among the bones of his forefathers. But she could not. Having proclaimed the truth that it was Korbinian that she saw, now she could no longer speak. She felt her fingernails digging their way into the flesh of her palms as she clenched her hands tighter and tighter and tighter. She wanted to destroy something, anything, anyone, as if violence could make the horrid truth of what she saw vanish into oblivion.
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