A Sister's Quest

by Ferguson, Jo Ann

  “But will he live?”

  “We should know soon.”

  “Soon? You don’t know yet?” Her eyes widened in horror.

  “You were both very lucky,” he said grimly as he stood. “The assassins appear to have been Herr Damrosch’s enemies. You must have been struck by the balls that went awry. Herr Damrosch did not survive.”

  “And Rusak?”

  “He is fine,” Frau Schlissel said. Her smile was gentle. “Truthfully, he is fine.”

  Michelle stared as the doctor accepted his hat from Frau Schlissel. Nodding a farewell, he told her he would be back to check on her tomorrow. Numbly watching him leave, she tried to erase the memories of the attack. She could hear her own screams and, even more clearly, Alexei’s moans as he risked his life to shield her.

  “Stop!” she cried. “I do not want to remember!”

  “Hush, child,” soothed Frau Schlissel as she put another cloth on Michelle’s aching forehead. “Count Vatutin must have quiet.”

  “Be honest. Will he live?”

  “Herr Doktor is hopeful.”

  “He must live!”

  “No,” said the housekeeper with a gentle shake of her head. “Nothing is guaranteed. All we can do is wait and pray.”

  “I am not good at waiting,” she whispered.

  Smoothing tangled hair away from Michelle’s forehead, Frau Schlissel murmured, “And at praying?”

  “I have been doing that since the guns fired.” Tears welled in her eyes.

  “Then do more, child, for both Count Vatutin and yourself. ’Tis Christmastide. Mayhap you both will be well enough to get out of bed in time for Christmas Day.”

  “Is that possible?” she asked, clinging to any hope.

  Frau Schlissel smiled with compassion as gentle as her fingers, which were tucking a blanket around Michelle. “Anything may be possible. For now, you must rest.”

  “Frau Schlissel?” She grasped the woman’s arm. “Is Rusak really unharmed?”

  “Yes, and for that we must be grateful. He has overseen Count Vatutin’s care, leaving me free to sit with you.” She patted the bed. “Sleep now.”

  She grumbled, “That is all I have done since …” Tears filled her eyes again. So many times she had questioned Alexei’s reasons for being kind to her, accusing him of having an ulterior motive.

  “Don’t cry, child. It will not help now.”

  Shocked, Michelle touched her cheek. Tears coursed along it. Sobs gushed out in a torrent.

  When Frau Schlissel placed a cup to Michelle’s lips, she drank the sweetened tea gratefully. She wanted to be enfolded in the velvet forgetfulness of sleep, where she could dream that she was in Alexei’s arms again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Fraulein D’Orage!”

  Michelle ignored Frau Schlissel’s reprimand. She had meant the curse sincerely and would say it more loudly if she bumped her left leg again while sliding to the edge of the bed. Her eyes narrowed as she gauged the distance to the door. She wanted to get up so she could convince the doctor to let her visit Alexei.

  Each day Herr Doktor Telemann brought her a report on Alexei’s condition, but trite phrases like “No change for the worse” and “He is doing as expected” did little to ease her anxiety. She wanted to see with her own eyes how he was healing.

  A distant knocking intruded. Frau Schlissel said, “Stay where you are, Fraulein. I will see who is at the door.”

  Michelle nodded but, as soon as the housekeeper left, inched her toes toward the floor. She winced as the bandages around her leg caught on her nightgown. Reaching across the sling supporting her left arm, she loosened her nightgown. Off balance, she clutched the covers as she tipped toward the floor.

  She trembled as she righted herself. She was incredibly weak. As she glanced at the pillows against the headboard, the temptation to rest in their welcoming nest again was intoxicating. She fought it. She must escape from this bed.

  A soft moan escaped her pursed lips as her right foot stretched for the floor. No matter what she did, she strained her left side, which burned as if it were afire. Half-on and half-off the bed, she panted with the exertion of the simple movement. Gingerly she lowered her left foot to the scratchy rug.

  Pain blasted through her. She sagged, brushing her left arm against the covers. The agony escalated until she was sure it would rip her mind away, but she refused to let her wounds halt her. Inching along the bed, she leaned on the mattress with every step.

  The room she once had crossed in several paces now seemed as gigantic as the ballroom where she had danced with Alexei. When she reached the end of the bed, she clung to the upright.

  “Don’t be stupid!” she snapped. “You will never be able to do it until you try.”

  Her anger at her feebleness spurred her feet forward. Slowly her fingers released the footboard. Swaying, she fought for her balance.

  Counting one small step after another, Michelle knew each was a victory. She smiled when she touched the back of the chair. She wanted to shout out her joy, but must not disturb Alexei’s recovery.

  “What are you doing?”

  She smiled as she faced an astounded Frau Schlissel. “I am walking, or at least that is what I am trying to do.”

  “Did Herr Doktor give you permission to get out of bed?”

  “’Tis time.”

  “He shall be upset. Come. I shall help you back to bed before he arrives.”

  “Yes,” Michelle replied as her legs trembled with exertion. She knew she must be cautious, or she might jeopardize her healing so far. She let Frau Schlissel help her onto the bed. Leaning her head back into the pillows, she closed her eyes and sank into their comfort. “Who was at the door?”

  “No one important, Fraulein. Do not fret about it.”

  “Frau Schlissel, who was there?”

  The housekeeper refused to meet Michelle’s eyes and plucked at the brightly embroidered apron she always wore over her dark skirt. “It was a caller for you. His Royal Highness Prince Bartholomew.”

  “Bartholomew is calling here?”

  With unease etched on her face, Frau Schlissel nodded. “Almost every day.”

  “Why haven’t you told me?”

  “Would knowing that have helped or hindered your recovery? His visits made you uncomfortable before. I answer his questions and send him away as politely as I can, using the doctor’s order that neither you nor Count Vatutin may have visitors.”

  “And Bartholomew accepts that?”

  “If I may be so bold, Fraulein D’Orage, I would guess that he cares very much for you and does not want to risk endangering you.”

  A hearty laugh resounded along the hall.

  Frau Schlissel rushed out the bedroom door. Her gentle face was twisted with anger when she returned. “Prince Bartholomew insists that he will sit in the parlor until you agree to see him.”

  “Tell him not to be so stupid.” Michelle winced as she sat straighter. “It is ridiculous—”

  “Not to receive me,” Bartholomew said from the doorway.

  She gripped the covers and lifted them over her nightgown as he strode into the room. No one could deny that Prince Bartholomew, heir to the German state of Coxe-Saxony-Colburg, had a regal mien. Handing his ivory-tipped walking stick to Frau Schlissel, he removed his leather gloves and tossed them in the housekeeper’s direction. In the sunlight, his ebony hair glowed with blue lights.

  “Bartholomew,” Michelle said quietly, “I do not feel hearty enough to see you yet”

  “My dear, did you think anyone could keep me away? You look wondrous.” He bent to kiss her.

  Averting her face, she began, “Bartholomew, I—”

  “Don’t say anything, my dear. Let me just look at you. How horrible it would have been if you had died imagining I was angry with you!”

  She closed her eyes. “Bartholomew, please go.”

  He sat on the edge of her bed, ignoring the gasp of outrage from Frau Schlissel. A dif
fident wave of his hand dismissed the housekeeper, but she remained by the door.

  “Don’t order my friends about!” Michelle stated, her exasperation strengthening her.

  “Friend?” He glanced at Frau Schlissel and smiled coldly. “You have very odd notions, my dear, if you call servants your friends.”

  “At least Frau Schlissel concerns herself with my recovery. She does not refuse to listen to a polite request to leave so I may rest.”

  Taking her right hand, he murmured, “Just let me look at you, my dear. I want you to get better so you can come with me to Coxe-Saxony-Colburg.”

  “My opinion on that has not changed,” she said tautly. She almost added that her arm and leg were injured, not her head, but she did not want to insult him more.

  He bent to kiss her cheek. His smile dimmed as she pulled away. “The doctor is pleased with your progress?”

  “The doctor is very optimistic about my recovery and about Alexei’s. Thank you for your visit, Bartholomew.”

  He stood and bowed over her right hand. “I shall come to see you tomorrow.”

  “No, you shall not!”

  Instantly Frau Schlissel seconded her command. “Your Highness, it is imperative that Fraulein D’Orage remain undisturbed during her recovery. If you wish updates on her condition, I shall be glad to send them to you, but, please, Your Highness, do not call until you receive word that she has recovered.”

  “I do not take orders from servants,” he said with a snarl as he snatched his cane and gloves from her.

  “You will if you care for her.”

  With a growl, he stamped out of the room. Frau Schlissel paused to look back at Michelle. With a smile, the housekeeper winked.

  Michelle relaxed into the pillows. At last, they had convinced Bartholomew to stay away.

  Or she hoped they had.

  Michelle waved aside Frau Schlissel’s assistance as she paused in the middle of the room. If she showed any weakness, the housekeeper would insist she return to bed. Only Michelle’s assertion that she was going to visit Alexei today and Frau Schlissel could help or not as she wished had convinced the housekeeper to allow her to try to reach the connecting door.

  Wincing, she put more weight on her left foot. Pain climbed her leg, but she hid it. With her right hand sliding along the wall, she walked with slow, uneven steps toward the door to Alexei’s room. Knocking on the door almost knocked her off her feet.

  When it opened, Rusak put out his arms to steady her. How Michelle? You understand me?

  She started to nod, but the motion sent anguish through her head. “I cannot answer you as Herr Professor Waldstein would wish, Rusak, but I can understand what you are saying.”

  Concentrating on his fingers, she tried not to let the motion unfocus her eyes. She smiled. He was relieved to be able to communicate with someone again. For the first time, she realized how cut off Rusak had been.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  Hidden by carriage. Shooting at inside. Sorry slow.

  “You saved our lives with your quick actions. I—” When she swayed, a hand settled under her right elbow.

  Frau Schlissel said, “You should go back to bed. You are not yet healed enough.”

  “No!” She had come too far to return to her bed without assuring herself that Alexei was indeed alive. Although Rusak was trying to tell her something, her eyes blurred.

  Michelle staggered into the room. Rusak’s hand on her arm steered her toward the large bed. Her rubbery legs struggled to carry her across the room. Had it grown larger?

  “Why are you risking yourself to come here?” Alexei’s voice was cold.

  “Alexei!” She put her right hand on the bed to steady herself.

  Her stomach cramped when she saw he wore many more bandages than she did. One was wrapped around his head and covered his right eye. Another nearly met it along his right cheek. Beneath his dressing gown, the bulge of more bandages widened around his upper arm.

  She whispered, “How are you feeling?”

  “Better than you, I would wager. I have never seen a face so colorless in my life. How could you be so stupid and come here when you are not yet healed?” Raising his voice, he called, “Rusak, where is your head today? Just because Michelle is being feebleminded, must you be? Get her a chair before she falls.”

  Michelle stared. Alexei had been terse with her before. He had taunted her for her innocence. He had chided her for her mistakes, but never in a voice as frigid as this one. Even though she could see so little of his face, she could not mistake the fury there.

  When a chair appeared behind her, she sat gratefully. She glanced over her shoulder to see the door closing.

  Thankful for Rusak’s understanding of their need to be alone for a few minutes, she smiled and looked at Alexei again. Mayhap he was just as frustrated as she was with being infirm.

  “Why are you here?” he asked in the same demanding tone.

  “I wanted to be certain you are alive.”

  “Barely.”

  “I am sorry.”

  He pushed himself forward and gripped her right arm—with his left hand, because his right one was lost within bandages. “Sorry? Why? Because Herr Doktor Telemann doubts I shall ever regain use of my right hand or sight in my right eye?”

  “Oh, Alexei—”

  “Save your sympathy for yourself, Michelle. I have neither need nor desire for it.” He squinted at her, and she wondered if his head ached as hers did. The ache had grown more ferocious since she had come in here. “I understand you were hit twice.”

  “And my bonnet once.” Her attempt at humor fell flat when he scowled.

  He became wavy, but not from her dizziness. Tears burned along her cheeks. She reached out to him, but he drew his bandaged arm away. Why was he opening a chasm between them that had never existed?

  “Alexei,” she whispered through her sobs, “when I thought you were dying, I thought I would, too. I would do anything to—”

  “You cannot change what happened. Neither can I. We cannot change anything that happened that night”

  Michelle recoiled as his words struck her as savagely as the ball had sliced through her. “Would you change what happened in the conservatory?”

  Instead of answering, he picked up a bell set on the table by his bed. He rang it, and the door opened. “Rusak, will you help Michelle back to her room?”

  She slowly came to her feet. When she winced as she put too much weight on her left leg, Alexei’s gaze shifted away from her. She raised her chin and forced the rest of her tears back down her throat.

  “Thank you,” she whispered to Rusak as he assisted her to the connecting door.

  She could not keep from looking back at the bed as Rusak opened the door. Alexei was staring at the canopy over his bed. If he sensed her gaze on him, he did not acknowledge it.

  As clearly as if he had shouted it, she comprehended the truth. Nothing, but his death, would halt Alexei from doing what he must. All those around him must accept that.

  Or leave.

  Alexei frowned at the sound of laughter beyond his room. He tossed the letter he had been reading on his desk and slowly stood. Crossing the room, he opened the door to the hallway. Then, knowing that the bandages over one ear had misled him, he realized the laughter came from Michelle’s room.

  Not just her musical laugh, but a man’s laugh. A savage pulse thundered through him. He ignored it. The laugh was not Prince Charming’s, but Rusak’s.

  He fisted his hand on the wall as he opened the door a crack to peer through it Frau Schlissel set a tray on the table by Michelle’s bed and poured a cup of coffee. Handing it to Michelle, she smiled.

  How easy it would be to get sucked into that joy again! Raising his other hand, he stared at the bandages that concealed his fingers in a white mitt. Hadn’t he learned the cost of letting his attention wander from his work? Exulting in his pleasure with Michelle and the anticipation for more had betrayed him into
thinking more about her than about his enemies.

  Your enemies never rest. Sophie’s voice resonated in his ears like his own conscience. She had told him that more than once, but the last time had been only hours before she left on the assignment that would be her last.

  “Frohliche Weihnacten!” came a voice from the other room. Frau Schlissel’s voice.

  “Christmas?” he muttered, then swore. Verflucht! He had not guessed the year was so near its end. Too many days had been wasted while he was imprisoned in his bed like a mewling baby.

  “Frohliche Weihnacten!” At the happiness in Michelle’s voice, he knew it was not only his days that had been wasted, but his nights.

  He swore again. How much more did she need to suffer before he acknowledged the truth? His hope to keep her safe by bringing her with him had been futile. Instead of protecting her, he had made her a target of his enemies … of their enemies. That those enemies had been hers as a birthright changed nothing. He should not have brought her to Vienna with him. Instead he should have found a place where she could be hidden for as long as necessary.

  When Rusak appeared in his narrow view, Alexei was amazed to see his assistant bend and kiss Michelle on the cheek as he made some of those bizarre signs with his fingers. She must have understood because she laughed and bade him a happy Christmas, too, as if nothing were amiss.

  With a sigh, Alexei pushed away from the door. He could not imagine where in Europe the daughter of Sophie D’Orage might be safe now. Going to his desk, he pulled out a drawer. He lifted a small package wrapped in brown paper. It was time for this.

  Alexei was not surprised when the laughter faltered as he walked into Michelle’s room. He nodded to the housekeeper’s halfhearted greeting. Rusak folded his arms over his chest, his smile gone.

  Verflucht! He had thought Rusak, of all of the others in the apartment, would understand why Alexei was acting as he did. Rusak knew the perils of this life and the cost exacted from anyone who got in the way.