It made me a little sad because it felt like I had just given away my childhood, but it was best that the dresses would be of use to someone else. I believed I had made Fleur happy, and that's what frilly dresses were meant to do for little girls. Even though Fleur had the hard life of a servant, she would have something of beauty in her life. With that, I sighed, closed up my half empty trunk and went downstairs for tea with Celia and my Aunt.
* * *
There were only the three of us at dinner that night because Julian had gone on to London along with his father and Leo. Celia told me stories about the city. It would be my first time in town. Come to think of it, the first time I ever spent a night outside the walls of Rhineholt was when I stayed with Creeda at Aven Cottage.
Aunt Emmaline was quiet and after dinner she excused herself to bed early, complaining of a headache. This left me with Celia in the drawing room. We talked for a bit about the convent where I would be living for the next two years, and after a pause, Celia moved in close to where I sat and took hold of both of my hands. She looked seriously at me, so much so that it frightened me.
"What is it?" I finally asked.
"You are old enough now, I think," she said with her eyes never leaving my face.
"There are things you must know, dear. Some of them are unpleasant, but it is important that you know the truth, darling. I wanted to tell you when we were on our way to Germany, but the weight is just so heavy."
"Then please, tell me what you must," I said attentively.
"Your Aunt would disagree with me. Emmaline did not want you to know, she thought that you would be happier left in the dark. I could not agree with her, though. So you must not tell her that you know what I have told you tonight. It must remain between us. Do you promise?" Her seriousness alarmed me.
"Your mother... Annaliese...” People said her name so rarely that it sounded strange to hear it.
“We were so close, you know. When we were at the convent together, she shared something of her history with me. Her father was a Traveller, a gypsy Irishman. Her Mother, your Grandmother, was of German people and they were from a great house, but they disowned her when they discovered she held the child of a gypsy man. Your Grandmother was given no choice but to go and find the man who left her with child, but when she went to where the gypsy encampment was, there was nothing there.” It was the first time I knew anything of my mother’s history before she married my father.
“Your grandmother wandered in the black forest until she came to a convent. The nuns were kind to her and took her in. She died giving birth, and the nuns named the baby Annaliese, which is German for "grace." She had bright red hair, the same as yours. The nuns brought your mother up and schooled her there, which is how we met at the convent." I must have looked surprised because Celia squeezed my hands again.
"Dear, I know it is a shock, but I feel that you have a right to know where you came from. Your mother and I, we were like sisters. I loved her dearly and my family allowed her to spend holidays with me at my family home in Stuttgart. My mother and father were so fond of Annaliese that they even took her in after we finished at school and treated her as family. This is why we came out together in London. Your mother was beautiful and even though she was not known and had no history with London society, she was supremely popular that year. She certainly was not short on suitors, but when she met your father, that was it.”
“They fell madly in love in no time at all, but the old Mister Rhineholt, your grandfather, did not care for the idea that his son wanted to marry an unknown woman of no means. In fact, he was outraged at the prospect and even threatened to disown him. Your father, he would have none of that and insisted that he would marry Annaliese no matter what. I respected James so much for that.” She took a breath and shook her head before continuing.
"Your mother did not want to be responsible for ruining the man she loved, and we, your mother and I, devised a plan. She wrote to her mother’s family in Germany and demanded that they admit who her mother was. They did not want a scandal and immediately wrote back explaining that if Annaliese came forth as a blood relative, it could be disastrous for them. So her grandmother’s family offered up a generous dowry for Annaliese as long as they would keep quiet about the history of your Grandmother and the gypsy man. They said that if Annaliese told anyone her true family name, terrible things would befall her. With the prospect of such a large dowry, the Rhineholts agreed to put aside the fact that Annaliese was unknown, and your mother and father were married. The secret of where she really came from remained with only your mother. She told only the Rhineholts and me of the story, but she kept her family name to herself, and I believe she burned the letter when the dowry was secured."
For the first time in my life, I felt that I knew who my parents were, and it stung me that I was denied knowing them for myself.
Celia continued, "When your mother came to live at Rhineholt, she was so happy, and within a few months of the wedding, she wrote to me that she was with child. I came to stay with her often, and that is how I was introduced to Reginald. He was dashing, and I knew that your mother planned it so I would marry him. She and I would be together, no matter what."
"The night of the incident on the road, when your father was killed..." She paused for a moment, and I could see that it was difficult for her to speak of this.
"Your mother saw him murdered by the man who stopped them on the road. She must have been all out of sorts, because she wandered off into the woods. I dare say she could not stand to be near the man she loved so dearly in that state. When your father was found, a search party was sent out to find your mother. Your Uncle Charles was the one who found her..." I could not believe what I was hearing. I always believed that she was never found, that only her cloak washed up on the shore.
"Charles said that he called to her, but she did not respond, as though she was somewhere far away. By the time he realized what she was doing, it was too late. He rushed toward her, but could not get close enough to grab her before she threw herself over the cliff. You see, she loved your father so much that she could not bear to be without him. What she saw drove her mad, and..." There were tears on her cheek. I noticed them before I felt the wet of my own face. Celia pulled me to her. We were silent for a long time until she finally spoke again.
"It was a tragedy, and your Uncle did not want anyone to know. He told only Reginald and me. I thought that you deserved to know the truth. Do not place blame on Annaliese, though. She forgot all else when she saw what happened to your father. She loved you... she loved you so much, Tamsin. I think that she knew that you would be well looked after at Rhineholt."
I finally spoke, "Thank you so much for telling me. I know more about my parents than I ever did before. I know how much they loved one another and that I was made from that love."
“Dear, you are all that is left of that love.” Celia said wiping away a tear from my cheek.
Chapter 5
London was like being at a bustling party all the time. I found it intensely exhausting but completely wonderful. Celia, my Aunt and I were in and out of shops on a daily basis, seeing the seamstress about proper garments and buying books for me to read on the journey and while at school. Both Celia and Aunt Emmaline promised that they would send me more books while I was away, though I did not think I would find myself bored.
We were taking a break from the bustling shops and having an afternoon at the Rhineholt London house. I sat in the library by myself stitching my initials onto each of my handkerchiefs, which I was told was terribly important. I thought it was a silly and unnecessary thing to do, but to avoid being scolded by Aunt Emmaline, I proceeded through the small pile of white fabric. I was insistent on using green thread, it was my favorite color and my Aunt was completely against it until Uncle Charles chimed in.
“They are hers, after all, let her do as she pleases. She’s the one who has to look at them.” She consented, finally.
I felt strange
, as though I was not alone and turned to see that Leo was behind me in the doorway. The butler had not announced his presence. How long he was quietly standing there, I could not say. We smiled at one another, and I beckoned him to come and sit with me. I made sure to look him directly in the eye when I spoke so that I could be sure he understood what I said.
“How are you? Shall I ring for tea?” He shook his head, “I have not seen you since the accident.” He nodded.
“I’ve been here, in London with my father.” We were quiet for a moment, and I noticed him look at the embroidery in my hands and I held one up for him to see.
“My Aunt, she insisted that I do this to just about everything I am taking to Germany with me. I think it’s silly. Have you ever been to Germany?” I asked.
“Yes, there is my grandmother and then in the war...” he said and trailed off. He didn’t want to speak of it.
“Oh yes, I forgot that your mother’s family is still there. I am scared, a little,” I admitted.
“I’ve never been anywhere outside of England. I’ll bet you have been everywhere. Your brother told me about the tea plantation in India. Do you go there often?” He frowned at the mention of Julian, and I was surprised to find that he had a distaste for his brother.
“Do you not get along with your brother?” I asked.
“Half brother,” he corrected me.
“I did not know,” I said, and I did not delve into the subject any further because it seemed to bother him. My Aunt appeared in the doorway.
“Oh, Tamsin, dear, why did you not ring for tea, I did not know there were guests.” I stood up, dropping my handkerchiefs all over the floor. Leo knelt to pick them up before I could bend down. My Aunt went to ring the bell. She returned to see us stumbling over each other for the squares of fabric on the floor.
“Oh Tamsin, I hope they teach you not to be so scatterbrained!” she said, exasperated.
As Leo and I sat back down on the settee, I saw that he pricked himself with my needle, and I grabbed his hand. Without thinking, I held one of my white handkerchiefs over the wound.
“Dear me, at this rate you’ll be needing more of those before you even make it to Dover. Let me call for Torrence to come and bring a bandage.” My Aunt left the room again.
“I am such a mess, I’m so sorry,” I said to Leo, he shook his head as if to say, “Not to worry.” I did not know what to do so I picked up his hand and kissed where the wound was, thinking of how my mother comforted me in that way. He looked at me oddly for a second before my Aunt came back in with the butler. He took Leo out of the room and a moment later the maid appeared with the tea.
After Leo’s cut was fixed, we had an awkwardly quiet tea time before he left. Aunt Emmaline asked why I had not announced his arrival.
“It is improper for a young lady to be left alone with strange men.” I laughed at that.
“It was Leo Hilbourne! He is not a strange man,” I said in jest.
“Well, he is still a man, after all!” she shot back.
* * *
A month later, the morning had arrived that Celia, Julian and I would depart for Dover to cross the sea. My Aunt, Uncle, and Reginald Hilbourne saw us off. I asked after Leo, but Celia said that he had left the day before. I was disappointed and wondered why he did not come to say goodbye to me. There was a good chance I would not see him again until I returned from Germany and the thought saddened me.
My Aunt asked for a basket to be prepared for us with food for our lunch on the first day. Before we left, my Uncle handed me a small framed painting of my mother and father. I had never seen the painting before but it was obviously done by the same artist who painted the large portrait in the Long Hall at Rhineholt.
“It was in your mother’s wardrobe in the attic, I thought you might have it for your own,” Uncle Charles said, and I hugged him. It was the most sentimental gesture I had ever received. I was not aware that they kept my mother’s things. I hoped that on my return this wardrobe would be shown to me.
We set off for Dover, where we would wait for a boat which would take us across the English Channel to Calais, and then we would take a coach the rest of the way to Stuttgart, stopping overnight in various towns. We would spend a few days in Stuttgart before Celia took me to the nuns. As a whole, the journey would take over a week and a half; it was for this reason that I would have to spend holidays in Germany. Celia arranged with her brother’s family to have me stay with them for Christmas. They had a daughter who was near my age and who would also attend school at the convent. If possible, summers would be spent home or in London, but I was given an open invitation to stay in Stuttgart if necessary.
The journey was rather unpleasant, though I found it exciting to be on a boat. We were forced to wait several days for the weather to calm for us to cross the channel. I was lucky to not be taken ill on the crossing, many people were when the boat thrashed among the waves. Celia commented what good “sea legs” I had.
Julian spent little time with us during the days waiting for our boat, instead tending to business from India at the port. He told us that his stay in Germany would be brief and that he would part ways with us after only a night at the house in Stuttgart. He had to be off to India by the month’s end. He had become decidedly distant with me, and I did not understand why, though it was a somewhat welcomed change. I almost missed our banter.
The German countryside was beautiful, and I understood why there was such a rich mythical history associated with the people there. Celia admitted that had she been able to tear me away from Aunt Emmaline a week earlier, we might have visited Paris, but there was just not enough time and it might be dangerous just after the war.
“Perhaps when you leave the convent there will be time. You will have to have the latest fashions for your season in London and no one does that better than the French! Napoleon was good for something, after all,” she told me.
Stuttgart was a dark and beautiful place with the Black Forest floating by in the background. I found the architecture and woodwork of the little town’s buildings enchanting. The people were so kind when I spoke to them, although I was only just beginning to learn their language seriously, and was more well versed in French. Hilda taught me some German when I was younger, but my Aunt insisted that the emphasis be on what little French she could teach me. I was relieved that so many of the Germans I encountered were patient with me or at least knew a little French, and Celia and Julian were, of course, a huge help where the language barrier was concerned.
Celia’s family home was magnificent. Unlike Rhineholt’s dark, grey stone walls, it was big and white and seemed to shine beneath the sun. It had tall, elegant parapets and reddish brown, pointed caps on all of the towers. The house was set far back from Stuttgart with a pond that came right up to the Western walls. The reflection of the white towers on the water seemed to make it look even larger. I commented that it looked like a castle, and Julian corrected me.
“Schloss,” he said, smiling. I laughed at the way the word sounded as he said it.
“Yes, well, it is no schloss and it is nothing compared to what Hohenzollern was before it fell to despair,” Celia said.
Julian responded, “Ah yes, sadly it has been reduced to just a chapel, now. Tamsin, you will see a painting of what the Hohenzollern once looked like in the family hall of Hintergrundig, which is the proper name for Celia’s family home. We call it Anbetung, now, which means--”
“Adoration!” I interjected. I was excited any time I knew a word since I still had so much of the German language to learn.
Celia explained that Hintergrundig did not always belong to her family. The house was built for a great noble family many years ago and their line eventually came to an end when both of the sons of the house were killed at war. The house was sold to Celia’s Great, Great Grandfather who bought the house for his beloved wife, Gretel, thus the change of name to Anbetung. I found the history of the place fascinating, and Julian was impressed that I
was taking such an interest in old houses and castles.
“It’s a shame you did not stay with us at Hilbourne Abbey. It is also remarkably old with a rather dramatic history, more so than even your Rhineholt,” he said. I had only ever seen Hilbourne from far away. It was said to be much older than my family home and the house seemed imperious from afar. Rhineholt was certainly smaller and it may have had the same, large grey stone look of a fortress, but it was not nearly as overbearing looking as Hilbourne.
Celia’s mother was seated in the drawing room awaiting our arrival. She was a tiny, skeletal old woman with white hair and sparkling, pale blue eyes. Her hands were full of knots, and she reminded me of a mangled old tree. The woman was unnervingly quiet when she spoke, with almost a whisper of a voice. When she saw me she called me by my mother’s name.
“Annaliese.”
“That’s right, Mother, Annaliese’s daughter Tamsin,” Celia told her, but the old woman shook her head and pointed at me saying the name again.
“Annaliese.”
Celia’s mother was obviously senile, and I wondered if she really thought that I was my mother. She reached a hand out and Celia kissed her cheek and Julian did the same. I could see that they were both taken aback by her state. It was several years since they last visited Anbetung. The old woman beckoned me to sit beside her and I did so, even though I felt odd in her presence. She took my hands in hers and spoke to me with a thick German accent, but much louder than I expected and in English.
“I know that you are Tamsin, but your mother is there, too. Two souls, one body. You are she. Zwei Seelen, ein Körper. A chill went down my spine, and I must’ve looked stricken because Celia jumped in.
“She’s a fanciful old woman. In this part of Germany, the myth often mixes with the history. The people of this country are very superstitious.” The old woman shook her head and waved her hand as if she were dismissing the conversation all together, but I was still chilled by what she said to me. Two souls, one body...
Walls of Ash Page 5