by Ellin Carsta
Malambuku shook his head. “Why should anyone do that?”
Robert shrugged.
“I do not think it was set intentionally,” Hamza stated. “If somebody wants to cause damage, he sets fire to the plantation.”
“Maybe he tried to make it look less obvious,” Robert said.
“I do not know.” Hamza shook his head. “But I do not think that is how it was.”
“From now on I’d like us to be on the lookout for any person who doesn’t belong on the plantation. Keep a sharp eye out!” he ordered.
“Yes, sango.” Malambuku nodded.
“Do you really think it was arson?” Luise asked.
“I don’t know. But we should be alert. If the harvest had been destroyed, we might have gone bankrupt.”
“Have you any suspicions?”
“No, that would be saying too much. But I know that some of the other plantation owners will have worse harvests this year.”
“Who?”
Robert shook his head. “We don’t need a witch hunt. We escaped a big scare, and that’s a good thing. But it’s a warning, too.”
Luise was satisfied with his answer, though she sensed her father hadn’t told her everything. But she let it drop. From that moment on, she had the feeling that the worry-free existence she’d had on the plantation was a thing of the past.
The plantation returned to its daily routine. A burnt smell still hung in the air, but Luise adjusted to it. She was happy that nothing extraordinary had happened since then, and even the rumors about emerging unrest among neighboring tribes had gradually evaporated. But she heard the Germans talking every Sunday about skirmishes between the colonial European powers and Africans that not infrequently led to death.
Luise was worried about this. She’d been completely uninterested four years ago when Germany signed the Treaty of Berlin dividing up African territory. She was barely eleven at the time, and anything taking place outside Hamburg’s city limits belonged to another universe. But now that she was living in Africa and intending to stay there, she listened intently whenever the conversation turned to political conflict, especially the rumors. She wanted to understand what was going on.
It was early morning, and Luise was sitting on her favorite tree and watching the pink of the sky grow stronger. All of a sudden she heard a noise. Just a soft crackle, but she was sure she heard something, so she turned around. Her concern eased at once when she saw Hamza, who smiled. He sat down beside her.
“You’re up early,” Luise noted.
“You, too. I thought I would find you here.”
“Really?” Luise was surprised. “Why?”
“Because I watched you a few times when you first came to Cameroon.”
“You watched me?” She smiled. “I didn’t even notice.”
“At the start, because I did not know what you were going to do and I was afraid you might walk into the forest. But I was sure after a few days that you only wanted to be here, alone. So I left you.”
“I never saw you.”
“Then I did everything right.”
Neither of them spoke for a long time. Then Luise asked, “Are you worried?”
“Worried? Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s how it seemed to me lately.”
He nodded slowly. “You are a good observer.”
“Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”
“It is hard for me. I want to tell you in confidence, but you must not tell your father.”
“Why not?”
“He owns the plantation, and the Duala work for him.”
Luise bit her lip and thought for a moment. “I won’t tell him a thing. You can trust me.”
“The Duala have received an offer from another sango to bring in his harvest and would have to move there.”
“What are you saying?”
“Some in the village are for it, others against. I do not know what the decision will be in the end.”
“But why? We pay the workers fairly and do everything we can to get along with you.”
“It has nothing to do with you. Promises were made to some men in the tribe. I think they are being deceived.”
“Can I do something?”
“No, it is tribe’s matter.”
“What does your father think?”
“He is against leaving the plantation, but he is not the chief.”
“Would you go, too?”
Hamza shrugged. “I would have no choice.”
Luise gulped hard. “If you go, we couldn’t work the plantation.”
“I know.”
“We’d be ruined.”
“What does that word mean?”
“Ruin?” She thought for a few seconds. “It’s a word that means we would have no more money and would have no idea how we were going to live.”
“I understand. I will do what I can to see we stay.”
“Thank you.”
Luise wondered if it was wise to tell him her next thought. “I wouldn’t want to lose you,” she heard herself say.
Hamza was silent.
Luise was immediately filled with regret. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Won’t you leave here someday?”
She looked at him. “No. Why should we?”
“Sango Meyerdierks has gone.”
“He wanted to take care of his mother. She’s sick and needs him.”
“And your mother?”
Luise grimaced. “She doesn’t need me, believe me. Besides, she has my sister.” Luise sighed. “We don’t get along particularly well, you know?”
“Yes, I know.”
“Oh really?”
“I could see it when she was here.”
“It was that obvious?”
“Yes.”
“My father and I are not planning to go back to Hamburg. We’re staying here. That’s why I hope you won’t be leaving us.”
“There are other workers he can get if we go.”
“But you won’t be among them.”
Hamza reflected briefly. “The man who often came to visit . . . ,” he started to say.
“Do you mean Raimund, Raimund Leffers?”
“Yes, him.”
“What about him?”
“Will you marry him?”
“What? Me and Raimund Leffers?” Luise laughed out loud. “No, most definitely not.”
“Why not? You must choose a husband eventually.”
Luise had no reply.
“I have to take a wife soon.”
Luise looked at him in surprise. “Oh” was all she could get out. Then she looked straight ahead again.
“But I do not want to,” Hamza declared.
“No?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Luise swallowed hard in anticipation of his answer.
Hamza said nothing. Hesitating for a moment, he took her hand and held it firmly. And so they sat until the workday began.
Chapter Seventeen
Hamburg, Beginning of September 1889
She was pleased. It was all playing out in an eminently gratifying way. Richard’s grades had improved, and nobody could complain about Frederike or Martha once Elisabeth took the reins. Only the day before, Georg had praised her dedication to the family. Georg and she were becoming closer, anyway—not in the physical sense, but it was noticeable how her assistance helped him concentrate on his office work. By contrast Georg and Vera’s relationship had worsened considerably. The couple only stated what was necessary after Georg had said during an argument that he wished from her the same commitment Elisabeth had demonstrated. It was easy to feel sorry for Vera.
Vera had told Elisabeth a few weeks ago that she felt increasingly uneasy at social engagements. She was convinced people were watching her and whispering behind her back. Elisabeth said she was just imagining it and ought to relax, but Vera grew more and more tense and insecure. Vera had taken Elisabeth’s suggestion and seen her d
octor. He attributed Vera’s complaints to overstimulation, because of the ever-increasing pace of life. He had a long list of patients—many of them women—who suffered from the same symptoms, felt depressed and insecure and whose lives were out of balance. He’d prescribed her the latest medication to improve her sleep and calm her nerves as well. Vera was grateful to him and convinced she’d soon improve. She did notice the medication led to a certain lethargy, but she was prepared to live with that temporarily. She had no idea that Elisabeth had been to another doctor, who had prescribed the same medication for her, and soon Vera was being administered double the prescribed dose with her meals every day.
Elisabeth would console Vera when Georg reproached her for lack of motivation if Vera felt too weak to get up in the morning. But even these reproaches became less frequent since Georg began to see that helping his wife was love’s labor lost. But Elisabeth was always present, saw to it that the children did their chores and the staff carried out their duties. Everything was so perfectly organized that Georg only had to deal with business matters.
Vera seemed to be bowing out of the family more and more, and her children reacted very differently to their mother’s withdrawal from everyday life. Richard showed no concern that she was, for all intents and purposes, living among them invisibly, and he concentrated entirely on his upcoming final exams. Frederike, on the other hand, made a considerable effort to address the situation. She tried to coax her mother into coming to the family meals, or she’d sit and read to her or attempt to have a conversation. But since Vera barely reacted to her daughter’s devotion, Frederike grew frustrated and gradually stopped trying to get her attention.
Georg had recently invited Elisabeth to his study to inform her that he would be putting a monthly sum at her disposal as soon as Robert’s next shipment came in and new money came into the business. Elisabeth had thanked him, knowing he’d soon be paying her more than he imagined.
“Would you be so kind as to accompany me to the Palms’ reception tomorrow night?” he asked at dinner one night.
Elisabeth looked up in surprise, and Richard, Frederike, and Martha did the same.
“Me?” Elisabeth raised her eyebrows.
“Of course. You’re invited as well. And it’s obvious that Vera”—he pointed to her vacant seat—“cannot go in her present condition.”
“Won’t people talk?”
“About what?” Georg sipped his wine. “Your husband’s in Africa, and my wife is ill. Everybody there knows that. It would be more noteworthy if we arrived in separate carriages and gave the impression that we were avoiding each other.”
“I hadn’t considered that,” Elisabeth said, turning to the children. “What do you think?”
Richard shrugged. “And even if people do talk . . . when you appear together the next time, nobody will care anymore.”
Frederike and Martha nodded in agreement.
“I’d like to ask Vera if it’s all right with her,” said Elisabeth, withholding her acceptance. “If she’s not opposed, I’ll gladly accompany you to the Palms’, Georg.”
“Good.”
For him the matter had been laid to rest.
It had been easy for Elisabeth to obtain Vera’s consent, and she even made her feel she herself had asked Elisabeth to go with Georg. Now Elisabeth sat before the mirror over her dressing table. Everything was turning out precisely according to plan. She brushed back her hair, smoothed her eyebrows, and dotted on some lip cream. She turned her head, studying her hair from each side. Her hair was artfully swept up, everything about her was impeccable. She sprayed some eau de toilette on her neck and stood up. The dark-red dress suited her beautifully. She rarely wore it, but it seemed perfect for that day. She felt a pang of nervousness. If everything went well, she would remake her life from the bottom up. She had orchestrated everything and been patient. Now it was just a matter of harvesting the fruits of her scheme.
“You look enchanting, Elisabeth.” Georg watched as she descended the stairs step by step.
“Thank you, my dear brother-in-law.” She smiled at him. “I must say I am looking forward to this evening.”
They exchanged pleasantries in the carriage on the way. Elisabeth made an effort to show her admiration for Georg through small gestures, praising him for his business acumen. Then she withdrew a little, expressing her concern for his wife’s health and her hope that medication would bring a clear improvement. Georg’s answers revealed that he neither shared this hope nor expected Vera to rally.
“I think it is also a social problem,” Elisabeth said casually. “Did you know that writers like Heyse, Mann, Fontane, and Hauptmann discuss the illness neurasthenia in their works?”
“Really? No, I didn’t.”
Elisabeth didn’t tell him it had been her doctor who told her that, while criticizing the influence of literary works on popular opinion.
“Yes, it is a fact. Vera’s condition prompted me to research the subject thoroughly. Everybody is talking about it so much it’s almost a cliché, this neurasthenia. If you ask me, people are only making themselves crazy.”
“You are a clever and practical woman, Elisabeth. I think I’ve misjudged you all these years.”
“I shall be frank with you, Georg. My worry about Vera’s condition is greater than I would care to admit. Do you know that there are some good clinics for patients like Vera?”
“I hope you don’t mean the kind of place where people are tied to their beds.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Georg! This is my sister-in-law we’re talking about. Of course I don’t mean anything of the kind, but rather facilities that specialize in treating and healing mentally ill people, not torturing them.” She waved off his attempt to speak. “Oh, let’s drop the subject. I’m sure I don’t know enough about it.”
Georg grew pensive and silent until the carriage came up to the Palms’ house. Elisabeth looked at him from the corner of her eye. The seed of doubt had been sown. Now it just needed to sprout.
“Here we are,” Georg said, happy to break the silence as the carriage stopped. Without waiting for the driver, he opened the door, climbed down, and offered his sister-in-law his hand.
“The Hansens!” Georg heard his host exclaim even before he’d turned around. Ernst Palm and his wife were in front of their house, smiling at them.
Elisabeth gathered up her dress and took Georg’s arm. They stopped before their hosts, and she held out her hand to be kissed. “Herr Palm, Frau Palm, how lovely of you to invite us!”
As the women said their hellos, Ernst Palm shook Georg’s hand. “I am sincerely happy you and your sister-in-law accepted our invitation. I know it’s not easy . . .”
“We’re delighted.”
“Please go in and have a glass of champagne. Many of the guests are here already.”
“How kind. Many thanks.”
Elisabeth nodded to Georg, and they walked into the villa. All eyes were on them. Many guests merely registered their arrival; others let their gaze linger a moment too long. Principal Hajo Feldkamp and his wife were the first to leave a small group of people and come over to them. “Frau Hansen, Herr Hansen. When we heard you were coming tonight, my wife and I were most pleased.”
“Herr Feldkamp.” Elisabeth smiled broadly. “Georg, may I introduce you to Richard’s savior.”
“Oh, Frau Hansen, you give me too much credit.”
“My sister-in-law told me about your actions on my son’s behalf. I am delighted to be able to thank you in person.”
“Brunhilde.” Feldkamp turned to his wife. “You know the Hansens.”
“Why, yes,” his wife said. “Elisabeth and I have met many times.”
“And it was always delightful,” Elisabeth added.
“Indeed,” Frau Feldkamp agreed. “Please allow me to introduce you to some people, and we’ll have a glass of champagne.”
Elisabeth traded Georg’s arm for Brunhilde’s.
“I am so looking forward
to this evening, my dear.”
“Are you happy with the course of the evening?” Elisabeth asked her brother-in-law as the carriage took them back to the villa.
“You were wonderful, Elisabeth, you know?” His speech sounded a little slurred. “You’ve done me a great service tonight.”
“Really?”
“I made a couple of new business contacts—thanks to my lovely sister-in-law.”
“Nonsense, you deserve the credit. I did nothing.”
“But you did. You were exceedingly charming and captivating. I’m serious, and I thank you for it.” He took her hand and kissed it.
Elisabeth smiled. “Glad to do it, my dear.” She put a hand on her chest. “I am afraid I drank too much wine and am a little tipsy.”
“I know for certain that I did drink too much,” Georg responded. “But that’s all right. It can even do you some good.” He sank down farther into the seat.
“I am sorry I cannot be of more help to you day-to-day. You should have it.”
“You’re doing what you can, I know. Vera is the one who should support me, not you.”
Elisabeth sighed. “I’m trying to make up for what I failed to do at my husband’s side. It is my contribution to the success of the business, so to speak.”
Georg didn’t answer, having nodded off.
The carriage stopped in front of the villa, and the driver opened the door and helped Elisabeth out first, then Georg, who stumbled.
“’S’all right,” he said, pushing the driver away.
“I’ll do it,” Elisabeth said, and took him by the arm. Even before they made it up the stairs, the door opened.
“Wait, I’ll help you!” Anna hurried to them and supported Georg on the other side. The women brought him inside together.
“Into the parlor,” Elisabeth gasped.
“Shouldn’t we try to get him upstairs?”
“No! The parlor. Are the children asleep?”
“The children went to their rooms hours ago, and I’ve not seen them since,” the housekeeper reported.
“And Vera?”
“Madame is also in bed.”
“I c’n make it m’self,” Georg slurred.
The women ignored his words and laid him on the couch in the parlor.
“Thank you, Anna,” Elisabeth said. “I’ll manage from here.”