“Have you made arrangements for me to visit the English mines?”
“Indeed, I have,” Putnam replied. “It’s quite some distance from here, you understand. And will have only the most primitive of accommodations, I’m afraid.”
“Bah! That’s unimportant. What matters is that I get my hands on sapphires that can pass for those from Ceylon, but at considerably less cost.”
“We will have no difficulty with that. Generally speaking, the sapphires go straightaway to London to be cut, and of course there are high taxes to be paid. However, I have arranged for you to take possession here, and as we discussed, the gems can be hidden and taxes avoided. I can even point you to a lapidary here in Helena who has world-class skills should you want to get them faceted here rather than in Germany. The man is quite exceptional, and he is a lifelong citizen of Helena, so he will not be a threat to you. Generally I wouldn’t recommend Americans to cut stones, as they seem to lack a real artist’s touch, but this man is very good.”
“I believe it’s also possible to have them faceted in Ceylon. We do plan to go there before arriving in Germany. I might even pick up a few stones there just so I can truly proclaim to have purchased sapphires in Ceylon.” The graf smiled. “Not that telling a lie or two here or there is unthinkable. We both know how that has benefited us in the past.”
“Hmmm, yes.” The other man looked most uncomfortable.
Frederick moved to where several carafes of liquor awaited. “Would you care for a bit of Scotch? I find it quite satisfying after a rousing game of cards. Especially after winning.” He poured the liquor into his glass.
“Thank you, no,” Putnam said, stretching out his long legs. “However, I’m famished. I thought you might accompany me to the dining room. We can talk there.”
Frederick shook his head. “What say we have dinner brought here to my room? We can continue to make our plans uninterrupted that way.”
“I say, that is a capital idea.”
Frederick motioned for Hubert. “See to it that dinner is brought to us, and make certain it is a full meal and not just something à la carte. And see to it that they bring us a decent wine.”
“Ja, I will oversee it personally,” Hubert assured. He quickly exited the room, leaving Frederick and Putnam alone.
“I am most eager to see to this business quickly,” Frederick began. “I have no desire to remain in this wretched country any longer than I have to.”
“I quite agree. I don’t care at all for it—never have. Everything is so . . . dirty and unrefined. This hotel is advertised as the finest Montana has to offer with its great mineral waters and European décor. However, I find the entire place to be a disaster.”
“As do I, but that is beside the point.” He brought his drink and sat opposite the man. “You and I have been associates for a very long time. We have been good for each other, have we not?”
The man frowned. “We have.”
“I find that arrangements such as we have are to be respected and treated with . . . well, how shall I put it . . . a sort of reverence.”
“I agree.”
“We both stand to make a great deal of money if we can accomplish this arrangement. I would hate for anything to come between us and success.”
The man shook his head. “I’m not at all sure why you feel the need to address such a matter. I thought when I wrote you from London that you understood the matter was all but settled. I have the authority to see to it that you get exactly what you need and can avoid paying taxes on the stones.”
Frederick took a drink and considered the man’s words. “I don’t trust those other men, and I do not wish for them to be involved in our business dealings. I am happy to take their money at the card table, but otherwise I feel our association should be limited.”
His friend sat up rather quickly, his expression betraying alarm. “Did you suppose I meant to bring them in on our private arrangement? I assure you, I had no such thought. All of these men are involved in various aspects of the sapphire mining trade, and I thought only to expose you to them . . . in part . . .”—he paused, and the tension in his face eased—“in part because you need to understand that doing business here in America can seem most advantageous and yet turn sour quickly. I know for a fact that Mr. Thompson would love nothing more than to entice you to purchase your stones from his organization, but I can assure you their stones are not of the same quality as those offered by the English mines. Often they even mix in stones that are not Yogos and try to pass them off.”
A smile touched Frederick’s lips. “And you thought to safeguard me from such devious practices.”
“Exactly.”
Von Bergen knew it was more about Lord Putnam protecting himself, but he allowed him the lie. “Very good of you.” He tossed back the last of his drink and nodded. “Very good indeed. I appreciate that my partner would keep such a careful watch over my welfare.”
“It’s to the benefit of us both, don’t you agree?”
“Ja, I do.” Frederick studied the man for a moment. “I also know that you would never consider double-crossing me . . . given our understanding.”
Putnam stiffened. “You may rest assured, my dear man, that you have my utmost cooperation. I must say, however, I’m moved to despair that you should even bring up such a subject.”
“It never hurts for associates to revisit the foundation of their business arrangements.” Frederick smiled, knowing full well he had the upper hand. He’d seen Lord Putnam attempt to work outside of their agreement once or twice, but Von Bergen had applied just the right amount of pressure to rein him in.
“I don’t need to tell you how harmful it could be for the truth about either of us to get out. Although I can hardly see the wrong in supplying the duchess with choice stones, even if they aren’t from Ceylon.” He shrugged. “From my understanding, these Yogo sapphires are soon to surpass the Ceylon and Burmese sapphires in value.”
Lord Putnam nodded with great enthusiasm. “Indeed. I can tell you they have been widely received with great praise since their debut at the Universal Exposition in Paris. The quality is unlike anything expected out of America. I believe you are quite right to purchase these for her.”
“Well, I shall at least consider their purchase. The right price will convince me one way or the other.”
Hubert returned and stood just inside the door until Frederick acknowledged him with a nod. “Your dinner will arrive shortly, gnädiger Herr.”
“Very good. You may go now and partake of your own nourishment.” Frederick looked to his cohort and smiled. “I believe we should now put aside any concerns and enjoy our evening. You were, in fact, going to tell me all about King Edward’s trip to Paris.”
Putnam smiled. “Old Bertie has had a busy year already, and it looks to only get busier. He took the queen to Paris. Wanted to cheer her up. You know her deafness is most debilitating, and it causes her great bouts of melancholia. She’s quite good at reading lips, but it does take its toll. Not only that, but she lost her father last year, you remember?”
“I do indeed.”
“Her sister Minnie came to stay for a time after that and that proved to be a good tonic. Minnie even tried her best to encourage her son Nicky to join her, but I suppose his duties to Russia were much too important. Besides, that wife of his is bent on putting up a wall between the tsar and his mother.”
“And all of them are putting up walls against Germany,” Frederick said in an offhanded manner. “It would seem that given every one of them are related to each other via the royal bloodlines, they would be more considerate of their cousin the kaiser.”
“Ah, but Willy does himself great discredit,” Putnam continued. “He has such a suspicious mind.”
Frederick frowned at the nickname Putnam had assigned the kaiser, but such was the nature of the nobility and upper crust these days. “I hardly think it a discredit to wonder why the king of England met with the king of Spain in secret this
past April.”
“It was purely innocent. Bertie took the queen”—he lowered his voice— “and his mistress, to sail the Mediterranean Sea. It was only proper that when the king of Spain invited him to visit him in Cartagena that he graciously did so.”
“And I suppose it was purely innocent that they worked with French officials and decided on a plan to assure ownership of their Mediterranean holdings without any consideration of including Germany in on the discussion.”
Putnam raised his arms and shrugged. “Whoever understands the workings of kingly minds?” He smiled. “Things would go much easier were we in charge, would they not?”
A knock at the door proved to be the delivery of their supper, and all conversation was put aside. Nevertheless, Frederick tucked away all the information his friend had shared. He was determined to return home with any information beneficial to the kaiser. It never hurt to ingratiate oneself with the king.
“Oh, my precious daughter.”
Phoebe stood stock-still and looked into the face of the woman she had thought forever lost to her. “You’re alive.”
The woman nodded and tears streamed down her face. “Yes.”
Phoebe shook her head. “That can’t be. Vater said you were dead.” Her mind whirled with confusion. Was it possible her father simply didn’t know? But none of it made sense. If her mother hadn’t died when her ship sank, why hadn’t she come home to them?
“Phoebe, I know you’re confused. I’ve always known you were alive, but your father told you that I was dead.”
“Your ship sank.” Phoebe’s voice sounded almost childlike.
“No. It didn’t.”
Her mother reached out to touch her, but Phoebe shrank back. The look of sorrow on her mother’s face did nothing to assuage her fears. This wasn’t possible. It made no sense. Either her mother had led them to believe she was dead or her father had lied. Neither conclusion offered any comfort at all.
5
I know you’re quite wounded by all of this,” Phoebe’s mother said, “but I beg you to hear me out. I’ve wanted you to know the truth from the beginning.”
“But you didn’t let any of us know the truth. We thought you were dead.” Anger began to replace confusion. “What kind of heartless person allows her children to think her dead?”
“The kind who feared their father and what he might do.”
“Ich verstehe nicht—I don’t understand.” Phoebe crossed her arms as if to block out the painful words. “Why should you have been afraid of Vater?”
Her mother glanced around; then her eyes settled back on Phoebe. “Would you please allow me to explain? I only want a chance to tell you the truth of what happened.”
Phoebe wanted to throw back an angry refusal but didn’t. She knew she’d never have any peace over this startling discovery if she didn’t at least attempt to get the truth. “Very well. Explain.” Just then a couple of women in hotel maid uniforms passed by.
“Evenin’, Mrs. Bergen. Heard you were under the weather,” one of the women said. “Hope you feel better soon.”
“Thank you, Emily,” Phoebe’s mother answered.
“Mrs. Bergen? Not Von Bergen?” Phoebe fought to hold back an angry comment at this revelation.
“We can’t talk here. Please come with me to my cottage. It’s just beyond the main grounds.”
“You aren’t staying in the hotel?” Suddenly it dawned on Phoebe that her mother might be employed by the resort. “Do you work here?”
Her mother nodded. “I do.”
Phoebe drew a deep breath, then lowered her arms. She wanted to refuse her mother, but at the same time she wanted more than anything to hear what she had to say. “Very well. I will come with you.”
They didn’t share another word until Phoebe’s mother opened the door to the small house and turned on the electric lights. “Please come in and make yourself comfortable,” she said in German. Perhaps she hoped it would ease Phoebe’s discomfort. It didn’t.
Phoebe entered the cottage and glanced around. The living room was quite small, but tidy and welcoming. A fireplace graced one wall, and Phoebe noted that logs had been neatly laid for a fire. A small couch faced the fireplace with a rocker positioned on the left and a stuffed chair on the right as if to box in the hearth.
“Please have a seat.”
Phoebe nodded and took the chair. She watched as her mother lit the fire. Her last memories of her were of a refined woman directing servants to do such menial tasks. Mutter had been called one of the most beautiful women in all of Germany, even finding admirers in the highest circle. This woman in her simple serge skirt and plain white blouse hardly resembled the elegant wife of Graf Von Bergen, yet there was still an undeniable beauty in the way she looked and carried herself.
Finally, with the fire blazing strong, Mutter took a seat in the rocker. “Have you had your supper?”
Phoebe shook her head. “I’m not hungry.” She thought momentarily of her father and how he would be concerned when she didn’t show up for dinner. However, he would be even more upset when he learned the reason why.
She felt uncomfortable as she realized her mother had paused to study her. “You are beautiful, Phoebe. I always knew you would be.”
“Like you,” Phoebe murmured.
Her mother smiled. “We do bear a strong resemblance to each other, but you are a far greater beauty.” She folded her hands together. “I know this is very hard for you. I learned only a short time ago that you and your father were staying here at the Broadwater Hotel.”
“Does Vater know you’re alive?” The question just tumbled out before Phoebe could stop it. “Does he know you’re here?”
“Yes, he knows I’m alive, but he doesn’t know I’m here.”
Her mother’s reply cut Phoebe to the heart. Her father knew and said nothing? How could he have been so callous? He knew how devastated Phoebe had been when Mutter went away. She drew a deep breath.
“How long has he known?”
“Since the night I left.”
Phoebe gasped. Her stomach clenched. She swallowed back bile and lifted her chin. It had to be a lie. Vater would never have allowed her to believe her mother was dead if he knew she wasn’t. But even as the thought came, Phoebe had to admit her fears that he had done just that. She didn’t want to believe her mother, but she could see in the older woman’s eyes that she was most sincere. “Go on. I want to hear it all.”
Mutter nodded. “I’ve long wanted you to know it . . . all. I have always regretted how I managed things. You must understand first what drove me to leave. Then you must understand what forced me to stay away and remain silent.”
Her mother’s words sounded ominous. A part of her wanted to run away, but Phoebe knew she would have to remain strong and listen to the accounting.
“As you know, my marriage to your father was arranged by your grandfather—my father. I had no say in the matter, and although I was quite terrified at the prospect of leaving family and England to make a new life in Germany, I obeyed and married the man chosen for me.”
Phoebe nodded, and her mother continued. “I was determined to love my husband and make a good life. It was my duty, and I took that responsibility quite seriously. Besides that, I wanted children and a home of my own, and your father provided both. At first, I think he was happy. I don’t believe he ever loved me, but I do believe he found the arrangement satisfactory.
“Unfortunately, when you and Dieter were very young, I learned your father was gambling . . . and quite heavily. I tried not to be concerned. After all, men have their vices, and your father had inherited a title and fortune from his family. What he did with his money was entirely his decision. However, I noticed that he grew more and more impatient and always seemed angry. I saw him beat servants and animals. I listened to his ranting over dinner and at parties. When you were born he seemed to calm for a time. He was pleased to have a daughter and he doted on you, to my surprise.”
; Her mother paused and looked beyond Phoebe as if seeing the past. “He said that sons were to be disciplined and brought up with an understanding of their enormous responsibilities, but daughters were to be spoiled and pampered.” She smiled sadly and returned her gaze to Phoebe. “And he certainly did that. I could not fault him for the love he bore you. I couldn’t even bring myself to be jealous. To see him love you so completely was a blessing. I knew he would do most anything for you.”
Phoebe knew that what her mother said was true. Her father had doted on her. The only time he’d ever truly refused her was in sending her away after her mother’s death . . . or rather, disappearance.
“Go on.”
Mutter’s smile faded. “The gambling became more of a problem, and your father was often gone from home for long periods of time. When he returned he was often violent. He became more physical with the servants, and one day when I questioned him about the money, he slapped me. Hard.”
Phoebe gasped. “Vater would never hit you.”
“I never thought he would either, but he did. You must be able to remember some of our heated arguments. I know you were quickly sent to the nursery anytime we had words and definitely before he began hitting me. But it’s true. His violence toward me increased to the point that on many occasions I was unable to get out of bed.”
“I remember you were sick on many occasions. But our governess told me you were simply having female issues.”
“In a way she was right, at least three times. Your father had beaten me so badly that I miscarried. I had wanted more children, but given the increasing danger our home presented, I also feared it.”
Phoebe shook her head. “No. You must be exaggerating. Vater couldn’t have been so cruel.”
“I know it’s hard to hear, but I hope you’ll let me finish before you judge the matter in full.” Her mother lowered her gaze.
“How could we not have known? You want me to believe you, but I can’t. Vater was good and kind to us.”
A Beauty Refined Page 5