Sol sent them all a radiant smile.
Of course, the draper’s wife was quite confused.
“Who could that be? Count Lowenbrander? I don’t seem to recall ...?”
“No, of course not. He couldn’t use his aristocratic name then as you no doubt understand. And he didn’t have the courage to let you know of his feelings for you. But I’m sure you know who I mean, isn’t that so?”
Mrs. Samuelsen forced herself to chuckle, which could mean anything. Sol could see how hard she was trying to remember. The hostess was certainly delighted. The eyes of her guests were wide with envy.
Then Sol sat down next to Liv’s mother-in-law. Her hands moved swiftly over the table while she chatted and drew their attention to a picture hanging high on the wall.
The hostess, Mrs. Samuelsen, offered Sol a refreshment which she declined because her coach was waiting and she was short on time.
Soon afterwards she made a gracious exit, accompanied by the good wishes of the many admiring ladies.
Sol and Meta reached the city gates a little late, where Dag was waiting for them beside an ordinary horse-drawn wagon. Half an hour later, Liv’s mother-in-law passed away following a very convincing heart attack. Nobody thought of linking this with the wine she’d drunk some time earlier – and nobody considered that it could have anything to do with the unexpected visit of the elegant lady from Copenhagen. Furthermore, as this happened while she was visiting others, Liv couldn’t be accused of having anything to do with the death of her mother-in-law. This was how Sol wanted it, and Sol usually got what she wanted.
***
First of all, Dag went straight to Graastensholm. After all, this was his proper home and where his real mum lived.
Charlotte was naturally thrilled to see her handsome son once again. She spent a lot of time wiping away the tears of joy from her eyes.
“We were expecting you to come in a few days’ time. We were thinking of going to Oslo and meeting you at the boat. Well, how did things go?” she asked when she’d calmed down and they sat on the sofa.
“How did what go?”
“Your exams, of course!”
Exams? He’d forgotten all about them.
“Very well, thank you. Now that I’ve passed my law degree with distinction, I’ll be able to take my pick of official positions. I don’t want to boast, but I did get the best results of my year.”
“I knew you would,” beamed Charlotte, who couldn’t take her eyes off him. “I knew you’d do extremely well. I’m not a fool myself, you know, so you must take after me!” she chuckled.
“I know that, Mum. After all, you’re the one that taught us all, and you must take credit for that. But my years at university were tough. Students aren’t valued very highly, especially when you belong to one of the lower faculties. We were required to attend funerals and form a sort of guard of honour. The bigger the congregation the more distinguished was the corpse. All this took a lot of our time when we were supposed to be poring over our books. But it all turned out well in the end.”
Then he suddenly fell silent. He was deep in thought, only answering distractedly with one-syllable words while Charlotte told him all that had happened at Graastensholm.
Then, in mid-flow, she stopped suddenly and leaned forward.
“What’s wrong, Dag?” she asked. “You look so worried.”
He sat up straight and sighed. “Yes, Mum. I’m afraid that in acting with the best of intentions you may have caused a terrible tragedy.”
Charlotte turned red in the face. “Really? What do you mean?”
“Did you mention Miss Trolle to the family at Linden Avenue? I remember mentioning her to you in passing.”
“Yes, I did,” answered Charlotte. “What happened with her?”
“Nothing except that I thought she was pretty and that I was proud that she wanted to spend time with me. But it’s my fault for I should never have mentioned her at all.”
“Fault? I don’t understand.”
“All this happened while Berenius showed a great interest in Liv, didn’t it? He’d been introduced to her here at Graastensholm.”
Charlotte thought for a moment. “Yes, I believe that’s so. Why?”
Dag got up from the sofa and began to pace the floor. “The next thing I heard was that Liv planned to marry him. That she’d already accepted his proposal of marriage.”
Charlotte was becoming increasingly confused. “Yes, it was a truly fine match for our young Liv.”
At that moment she saw the immense distress on Dag’s face, which made her feel uneasy.
“Liv’s married to a man, who beats her! He’s a domestic tyrant!”
Charlotte sat motionless, too horrified for words. Dag began to pace the floor once more. Then he stopped and banged his fist against the window frame.
“Oh, Mum. You should have seen what she looks like now! She’s a tiny, frightened shadow of herself! Her mother-in-law orders her about from morning til night. She isn’t allowed to see her family; her husband scolds her and despises everything she’s been taught – then whips her with a horsewhip when she shows that she’s wiser and more intelligent than he is!”
“Good God, Dag, what are you saying?” blurted Charlotte in despair. “What are we to do? Dear God, what are we to do? Tengel ...”
“No, not Tengel! He’ll surely kill Laurents, which mustn’t happen ... for Tengel’s sake. We must keep this to ourselves, just you, Silje, Sol and me. Something must be done. Sol asked me to wait, but I had to talk this over with you.”
“Yes, yes, of course! Oh, my God, what have I done? But I couldn’t know ... Oh, please! Poor little child! Liv is the sweetest, most loving person on earth!”
“I couldn’t agree more. But don’t say a word of this at Linden Avenue, at least not for now! Let me and Sol decide how we’re to go about it all. Liv is terrified that there’ll be trouble.”
“I promise.”
They fell silent for a long time, absorbed in their own thoughts.
Then Charlotte turned to Dag again. “How did Sol get on in Copenhagen?”
“Sol? She’s like a cat – she always lands on her feet.”
“Does that mean that she got herself into difficulties?”
“I suppose you could say that she managed to charm her way out of it. She just doesn’t give a damn!”
“Now, now, you mustn’t swear, Dag,” she said gently.
“Humph! Then you should hear Sol explode once she gets started!”
“Yes, I can well imagine,” said an exhausted Charlotte.
***
Sol had just arrived at about the same time at Linden Avenue and Silje and Tengel welcomed her with open arms.
“Now, Silje,” said Sol, looking her stepmother up and down in a show of surprise, “you really must stop eating all those honey cakes!”
“It suits her to have some curves” said Tengel, putting his arm smilingly around Silje’s waist.
“Well, it does for now. I agree – but I’ve seen far too many overweight housewives recently. I wouldn’t want to see one at home!”
“I think this will be difficult to do anything about,” laughed Silje, “but you’re quite right. I’m far too comfortable here ... and Tengel, if you see me eating one more cake, you must take it away and give it to the poor!”
Being the woman she was, Silje had been slightly hurt by Sol’s unflattering remarks and she promised herself that she’d do everything possible to avoid any such remarks in future. So in a roundabout way, Sol had actually done Silje a service. But their great joy at seeing Sol again far outweighed all other considerations for Silje and Tengel, and this teasing remark was immediately forgotten.
“Now who’s this little girl you’ve brought with you, Sol?” asked Silje, glancing at the newcomer.
Sol introduced them to Me
ta and told them briefly about her story. She left out the more dramatic details for Meta’s own sake.
Silje and Tengel immediately felt great sympathy and compassion for the homeless orphan and quickly agreed to take her on as a maid.
Meta spoke in a whisper, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the floor. She asked if it was alright for her to work in the barn if they needed her there. She thought the house was so fine and felt that her presence in it wouldn’t be fitting.
“But what were you doing in Scania, Sol?” demanded Tengel suddenly in a suspicious voice.
“I was visiting friends,” she replied lightly.
“I see, but surely not at Brosarps Backar then?”
Damn it, she thought. Did he also know about the witches there?
“No, what makes you think that? It was at Tollarp if you must know.”
“Were you in any difficulties there, Sol?”
“Difficulties? What do you mean?”
“We received a ... request from you. Silje and I tried to help you.”
Sol quickly began to rummage in her luggage. “Well, you succeeded,” she mumbled. “Thank you. Thank you ever so much!”
Tengel and Silje exchanged uneasy glances.
“So you’d rather not speak about it then?” asked Tengel.
“I’d prefer not to,” said Sol. “I did something stupid that I’ll never do again. I guarantee that!”
“Maybe you’ll tell me another time then?” asked Tengel softly. “You see, I’m very interested. I got the impression of a ... creature ... I’d rather not mention his name.”
Sol looked directly into his eyes for a long time. Tengel held her gaze steadily in return, and at that moment she could feel the close, unspoken bond that others would never understand. At last she nodded her head in agreement.
“One day I’ll tell you, I promise. But I’d rather not right now. The memories are too fresh in my mind.”
Silje interrupted quickly to change the subject. “Oh look, here comes Are. Look, Are, who’s come home at last? And this is little Meta – who’s going to live with us. Meta, if there’s anything you need to know about looking after the barn, then just ask Are. He’s in charge of all that.”
Meta stared shyly at the tall, well built young man, who looked just like Tengel but without the demonic features.
“I understand. When am I to start?” asked Meta. “I really want to work hard.”
Are looked at her in shock. “What did she say? I didn’t understand a word!”
“Don’t you understand me?” whispered Meta sadly.
“She can’t speak properly!” said Are.
“Are,” said Sol. “Meta speaks the language of Scania – a dialect of its own that’s a mixture between Danish and Swedish. You’ll soon be able to understand it.”
“Why should I learn it? No, I won’t. She must learn our ways!”
“Are, please take Meta out to the barn and show her your kingdom,” said Silje firmly, “and please be nice to her! There are things we must talk about.”
“Why can’t I stay here and join in?”
“You’re not yet a man, that’s why,” replied Silje.
“I’m always treated like a kid!”
“How do you want it then?” asked Silje with a gentle smile. “You refuse to be the Master and you don’t want to be a child. Now take the girl and go.”
Muttering under his breath, Are turned and left and Meta, still feeling awkward and shy, followed close on his heels.
“What on earth’s the matter with him?” Sol wondered aloud. “That’s so unlike Are. He’s usually the friendliest of souls.”
Silje smiled fondly at her. “Have you forgotten how difficult it is at that age? Still a child but with one foot in the world of grown-ups? I remember well how difficult my own childhood was – and you were certainly no angel!”
Sol reflected on this for a moment. What had happened to her when she was fourteen years of age? Klaus, the awkward young stable boy; the sudden deaths of the verger and Mr. Johan – and one or two other unusual events.
“I’ve never been an angel,” laughed Sol. “I suppose it’ll pass for him as well. Anyway, I can’t stay long because I must be off to Tønsberg. I’m on an errand for the family of a Danish nobleman. I’ll leave tomorrow.”
“You mustn’t ride alone,” objected Silje.
“My dear Silje, it’s not even a full day’s ride! I’ll stay the night with them and return the following day. What can happen to me when all I’ll be doing is sitting on horseback?”
“Let her go,” said Tengel. “Sol can take care of herself.”
“Surely you can wait a couple of days before leaving?” said Silje. “Poor Meta will be upset if you leave before she’s found her feet here with us.”
Sol considered this for a moment and thought it an excellent idea to wait, but at the back of her mind she’d found other reasons for agreeing. “Alright, I’ll wait,” she said.
“Good!” said Silje. “And Sol, it was really kind of you to take care of Meta.”
“Oh, if only you knew what she’s been through. But I think I’d better keep those things to myself for Meta’s sake.” Are was glumly showing Meta around the barn. The poor girl trudged after him, nodding eagerly whenever he explained something. You could tell by the look in her eyes how impressed she was, but she didn’t say a word.
Eventually Are yelled: “Can’t you at least answer questions?”
Meta started and then began to weep. “I daren’t because you don’t like my language.”
“Oh, dear Jesus, grant me patience!”
***
At Sol’s request, Dag and Charlotte didn’t say anything at Linden Avenue about what Liv was going through. Sol didn’t want an enraged Tengel to upset her plans at this stage.
So she set off for Tønsberg. But that was a lie because this was not where her plans were taking her.
A few hours later, she stood concealed between two houses close to the harbour in Oslo, right opposite a large mercantile house that was the Berenius trading house. It was a long way from the house that Laurents shared with Liv.
Sol took her time because she spent the whole day taking note of the activities that took place outside the building: The comings and goings of everyone. Several times she saw a youthful man with an air of authority. She recognised him as Laurents himself. He was an elegant type but far too polished and arrogant for Sol’s taste. She liked a man of power but not his sort. She wanted someone born with true authority, the kind that didn’t need to shout and threaten to be heard – a man who effortlessly carried an aura of power.
Sol never found out what Berenius traded in, but she guessed that it had something to do with timber. As she stood there, her mind was focused on the people coming and going.
The gable wall of the Berenius building faced the street. Right at the top there was an open hatch where she could see some heavy-looking sacks were stacked. They were probably waiting to be hoisted down when they were needed.
The hatch was directly above the entrance door, and she noticed that Laurents would often spend time there talking with different people.
Sol returned early the next day and stood in the same place as she did the day before – in a narrow gap between the houses. There was also a solitary bush which hid her so that passers-by wouldn’t see her.
It was very important that Laurents didn’t see her. She could have walked into the building unhindered and carried out her plan more easily. But she told herself that nothing must be allowed to link her scheme to Liv. This was the thought that was always uppermost in her mind.
For many years, Sol had regularly practiced her ability to move objects by using only her power of thought.
In the early hours of the morning, Sol worked so hard that perspiration made her hair stick to her te
mples and her heart was racing from the effort of trying to move one sack right to the edge of the hatch. Although she had no idea what it contained, she hoped and prayed that it was something heavy.
She had never tried to move objects at such a great distance. Small objects across tables she’d tried many times, but trying to move something this large from so far away was proving difficult.
After many attempts she reluctantly had to admit to herself that this was beyond her powers. So for once, Sol was forced to give in. This meant that she’d have to get inside the building – but how?
She had noticed that there was a coal merchant in the same block. It was a backyard with old sacks and piles of rubbish. No windows at all faced into the yard ... She decided that this was ideally suited for her purpose.
Half an hour later, a young boy trudged up to the entrance of the Berenius building. Over his shoulder he was carrying a sack of bits and pieces. A sooty cap was pulled down over his face and his bare feet and legs were so filthy that one could hardly see the colour of his skin.
Waiting for a suitable opportunity when a lot of people were going in and out, he slipped in and made his way up the inside stairs.
Having made sure that nobody else was on the top floor, Sol left the sack near the hatch. She cast her eye over the large attic where great beams formed a framework that supported the roof. It was dark and humid and at the other end she saw another hatch. She crept over to it very carefully.
Looking down, she could see a roof below from where it would be possible to jump over to the neighbour’s roof. Then she would be able, in stages, to reach the ground.
Sol heard somebody on the stairs and she hurried back to her hiding-place behind the sacks. She didn’t dare to peer out but after a while the person left and she was alone once more. Now she could hear people on the floor below.
Only one thing was bothering her: There had been no sign of Laurents Berenius the whole day. A sudden thought sent a chill through her: What if this were the day his mother was to be buried? She’d heard nothing about it from Liv. She had no idea that at this very moment a letter was on its way from Liv to Silje and Tengel on Linden Avenue. Laurents had instructed her to say that nobody from Liv’s family need attend her mother-in-law’s funeral. Liv didn’t write the truth – that Laurents was ashamed of her relatives or that he refused to be associated with ‘hopeless peasants’ who had nothing in common with the merchant classes. Not even Charlotte and Dag were acceptable to him because Laurents couldn’t understand why any son-of-a-whore like Dag should be allowed to hold the title of baron. The fact that Laurents had had several flings before he met Liv was irrelevant to him – and he saw no connection between that and the birth of a child out of wedlock. To him, a person like Charlotte was a woman to be despised.
The Stepdaughter Page 16
