by Nina Clare
Elisabeth folded up the plans and returned them.
‘You’ve had to work very hard to pay for so much...’—she wanted to say, ‘so much extravagance’, but that would sound like criticism— ‘for so many improvements, Papa. I hope this is the last, so you can rest more.’
He brushed her concerns aside with a wave of his fingers. She moved to the window and looked out at the gardens beyond. They were looking very tidy. Another improvement of the baronin’s.
‘Papa, must I go to the count’s schloss tomorrow?’
There was a silence. She turned around. Papa looked thoughtful.
‘He is a great man, Elisabeth. A man of influence. The invitation is an honour. Your stepmother has talked of nothing else since.’
‘But I don’t like him.’
‘Why not?’
She put her clenched fists together, searching for the words to describe how uncomfortable and exposed she felt when the count’s eyes were running up and down her, as though she were a horse he was thinking of purchasing. How could she say this without sounding foolish or vulgar?
‘Everyone knows he is a harsh man.’
‘Everyone? Who is everyone?’
‘The servants. They say he was cruel to his wife. They say he killed her.’
Papa shook his head. ‘Don’t listen to servants’ talk. His wife died of illness, and if he runs his house with a firm hand, that is how these great men often are, particularly military men. Look at me—I am so slack in running my house that the servants have everything their own way, running up what trade bills they like. If it were not for your stepmother taking over the household, we should be poorer than our potboy by now.’
He was trying to elicit a smile from her, but she did not feel like smiling. She had pinned her hopes on him disentangling her from the unwanted attentions of the count.
‘Also…’ she said slowly. ‘He knows.’
‘Knows?’
‘About…my understanding. With horses. Or some of it.’
A frown rumpled her father’s forehead. ‘He cannot know much. Doubtless your stepmother alluded to it in some manner, but she would not have disclosed it openly. You will visit for an afternoon, and then come home again. You won’t be left alone with him. And if the count should speak of you, I will tell him you are too young to be thought of. You won’t have to go a second time.’
‘I don’t see why I should go at all, then.’ But her fists relaxed a little.
‘Do it to keep your mama happy.’
Her fists clenched again, and she glowered. She hated it when he called her mama.
Papa sighed. He knew her thoughts. ‘Please, Elisabeth. I have enough to worry about at present without having to negotiate another conflict between you and my wife.’
‘I knew something was wrong!’ Her anger melted at Papa’s admission of worry.
‘It is only temporary business matters.’ Papa sank against the back of his chair.
‘All right. I’ll go if it makes you happy,’ she said.
‘Thank you. Now leave me. I have a mountain of work. I shall be away next week on business and there’s a lot to prepare.’
‘Going away again? You get so tired on long journeys.’
’It’s just a week or two. I would not go if it were not essential.’ He rested a hand upon the pile of documents with the red ink. ‘I shall return with a new shipment of goods; a very profitable consignment. Someone must pay for all the new gowns your stepmother has ordered for you.’ He was trying to make her smile again.
‘I’d sooner never have a new gown again. Why must I have six of them suddenly?’
‘Because you are come of age, child.’ He sighed. ‘So I am told. But your stepmother knows best about these things. Now go. I am very busy.’
‘May I see Alexis today? Nurse wouldn’t let me yesterday.’
‘I believe he is much better this morning. He will rest till noon, then you may see him. Go now.’
She left to prepare for her morning ride.
As she was returning home, she passed a man tramping up the hill with a large leather sack. He doffed his cap as her horse walked past.
‘Excuse me, Fräulein,’ he called. ‘Am I on the right road to the baron’s manor?’
‘You are,’ she called back. ‘What business do you have there?’
‘Carpentry work.’
‘It’s at the top of the hill. Not too far.’
‘Thank you, Fräulein.’
He has that smell, her horse said, as she rode on, passing a meandering line of more workmen, trudging up the hill with leather bags of tools on their backs.
Who does? she asked soundlessly. The man who just spoke to me?
Who else?
What smell?
Pumpernickel gave a blurry reply, but Elisabeth knew him well enough to understand.
We call it a gifting. Like my brother has for knowing things, and I have for talking to you. I wonder what his gift is. What smell is it?
It smells of… Pumpernickel did not know the word, but a series of images came into her mind as he tried to describe it: birch trees with silvery bark and whispering leaves; bouncing cones as they dropped to the ground; the smell of pine and new-cut wood; beads of sap, like an amber necklace resting on a trunk.
His gifting must be something to do with wood, she concluded.
A cart rumbled ahead of them bearing lengths of wood. So, the work on the new dining room was beginning. And Papa must go away to pay for it.
She felt a flare of resentment at the baronin for this. Why couldn't she leave things alone? She felt another surge of anger at Papa. Why had he married her? All that talk of Alexis and her being at a disadvantage without a mother—they could have managed just fine as they were.
She recalled how elegant and gracious the baronin had appeared when first Papa had brought her to meet his children. She had not been a baronin then, she had been Frau Richter, childless widow of a business associate of Papa’s. There was no denying that Frau Richter had been a charming woman. That was why he had married her, she concluded; he had been charmed. How ridiculous to fall for someone based on appearance and glamour; she would not do the same.
She asked Pumpernickel to quicken his pace and overtake the rumbling cart. The baronin had warned her not to be late back, there was a final fitting for one of her new gowns, and she was determined to see Alexis before the seamstress arrived. No doubt the wretched gown was for the visit to the count tomorrow. Well, she’d make the visit, for Papa’s sake, but then she would refuse to see the man ever again.
Chapter 3
Schloss Dragenberg
The baronin was in a good humour at dinner that evening.
‘Brunn will dress you in the morning,’ she told Elisabeth. ‘You will wear the new light green moiré—no, the rose taffeta. And I will lend you my pearls.’
‘But the new pink one has hoops.’
‘Of course it has hoops.’
‘But we shall be in the carriage for hours, then walking around the count’s grounds. Hoops will be a nuisance.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, child. All the ladies are wearing hoops in the city now. Do you want to look like a mountain cottager? You will look like the daughter of a baron. You will look like the future wife of a count.’
Elisabeth glared at her. ‘But I am not the future wife of a count.’
The baronin’s eyebrows arched higher. ‘If you shame your family by behaving like a recalcitrant child, Elisabeth, I will—’ She stopped and recovered her even tone. ‘I will be most disappointed. As will your father.’
‘Whatever I do will not disappoint my father,’ she said stoutly.
The eyebrows arched again. ‘Vexing me will disappoint him greatly. Is that not so, Gilbert?’
Papa looked between them and threw up his hands.
‘Why will Brunn dress me in the morning?’ Elisabeth asked. ‘Why not Ziller?’
‘Ziller made an appalling mess of your hair the other even
ing. She will go to the laundry room.’
‘She shall not!’ Elisabeth’s knife and fork clattered onto her plate, making everyone, including the footman opposite, jump. ‘It was not her fault that my hair was bad!’
‘Do not raise your voice, Elisabeth,’ said the baronin. ‘Brunn has been most kind in agreeing to take over Ziller’s failed duties.’
‘Papa!’ she implored. But her father shook his head to say he would not interfere in his wife’s domestic arrangements. He never did.
‘I’m not hungry,’ said Elisabeth, her face tight with anger. ‘If I may be excused.’
She did not go straight to her room, however. First, she peeped in at her brother’s bedroom. Ten-year-old Alexis lay on his side, watching the flame on his bedside lamp. His languid eyes brightened when he saw her.
‘Elsa, I wondered when you’d come.’
‘Nurse wouldn’t let me in earlier. She said you needed rest.’ She sat down on the bed.
‘She’s in the kitchen having her supper.’
‘Good, she’ll be gossiping with Cook for at least half an hour then. Shall I talk to you or read?’
‘Read! I want to know what happens after Telmarund tries to kill Lohengrin.’
‘As if you hadn’t heard it forty times before.’ She got up to fetch the well-worn book.
Alexis struggled to sit up against his pillows.
‘Lie back down, little brother, or I’ll be in trouble for getting you all excited.’
She had just reached the part when Lohengrin’s magic swan turned into Gottfried, whom all had thought murdered—and the witch had burst in to see her wicked enchantment undone—when Nurse returned and shooed her away.
‘Please, Nurse,’ begged Alexis, ‘just to the end of the story.’
‘My lady can read it when you’re stronger. Look at you, your eyes all wild, you’ll be burning up like a pig on a spit, and mistress will have my hide for garters for calling out the doctor again.’
‘See you tomorrow, Alexi,’ Elisabeth said over her shoulder as Nurse bundled her out.
There was the sound of banging and scraping and unfamiliar voices next morning. Elisabeth peered into the dining room. A workman was taking measurements and calling out numbers while others carried out furniture. Through the open windows came the sound of sawing and chatter and the deep baritone of a man singing a folksong.
‘Breakfast is in the drawing room, my lady,’ advised Griffin, the head footman. She stepped back to let him pass into the room with his heavy-laden tray. A small cheer sounded from the workmen at the sight of the jugs of small beer and platters of bread and meat. She went to find her own breakfast.
The baronin scrutinised her as she approached the table.
‘Stand still, Elisabeth,’ she ordered. ‘Now turn around.’
Elisabeth caught Papa’s eye as she turned. He gave a wink of solidarity, but she was still angry from the previous evening, and looked away.
‘Very good,’ pronounced the baronin. ‘You look exactly as you should. Brunn has done well with your hair.’
Elisabeth stifled the urge to run her hands through the carefully piled up ringlets and ruin them. It had been an uncomfortable night with her head tightly bound up in rags. Perching on the edge of her chair was also uncomfortable; the hoops made sitting difficult. And Ziller never tied her corset so tight.
‘So the work has begun on the dining room,’ Elisabeth said dryly as she placed a napkin across her lap. The lace cuffs on her gown trailed irritatingly over everything as she reached for the butter dish.
‘Let the servants wait upon you, Elisabeth,’ said the baronin. ‘Do not stretch across the table.’ Anselm, the footman in attendance, stepped forward to move the butter dish closer to Elisabeth’s hand.
‘The work has indeed begun,’ said the baron. ‘There shall be no peace for me in my study now.’
‘Fortunately, you will leave within the week,’ the baronin reminded him. ‘And shall avoid all the fuss and noise. By the time you come back it will be completed, and we shall enjoy our first dinner there. I have begun drawing up the guest list.’
‘How long will the work take?’ Elisabeth asked her father.
‘The foreman thinks a month.’
‘A month! Will you be gone so long, Papa? You said a week or two.’
Her father raised a palm as though to express that he had no hold over circumstances. ‘I must travel farther than I thought. Now don’t look like that, Elsa. I would not be going if it were not necessary.’
‘There are a lot of things I don’t see as necessary,’ she retorted. ‘Such as a new dining room.’
‘Of course it is necessary,’ said the baronin evenly. ‘We cannot take our proper place in society without the space to entertain. An excellent table and wine cellar are essential for establishing and maintaining connections.’
‘But we don’t have a wine cellar,’ Elisabeth replied, thinking of the wine pantry which the butler kept the key to.
‘We soon shall. Eat quickly, we must be on our way. It is a long journey to Dragenberg.’
Schloss Dragenberg was very impressive, that much Elisabeth could not deny, as its towers were first glimpsed, emerging out of a forest of pines. The carriage climbed the mountain road, through the villages, past the scattered hamlets and farms, every turn in the road revealing another glimpse of the count’s home. She craned her neck at the carriage window to better view the red brick towers, topped with conical, grey roofs.
‘This is merely his country estate,’ the baronin said. ‘He also has a magnificent manor house in München. But this is where he keeps his famous horses.’
The entrance to the schloss was imposing and dark. A pair of stone dragons guarded the gateway, curling round the gateposts and baring their fangs at those who entered. The driveway was flanked by massive yew trees, casting a gloomy aspect. But the yews in the gardens beyond were well cultivated, shaped into orderly walls and neat topiary.
‘Magnificent gardens,’ said the baronin. ‘I imagine they are delightful in the summer, do you agree?’
‘Very stiff,’ Elisabeth said.
‘Stiff? What do you mean, child?’
‘I mean everything is shaped so rigidly. It’s all so formal. So stiff.’
‘Keep all demeaning adjectives to yourself, Elisabeth. A guest only ever compliments her host’s home and grounds.’ She arched her eyebrows. ‘Sit back, we are almost there.’
The count stood at the top of the steps of his home, cigar between his teeth, awaiting their arrival.
‘Such an elegant figure,’ said the baronin, as the carriage came to a halt. ‘Such upright bearing. One can tell he was a military man.’
Elisabeth did not reply; the door had been opened, and she was busy trying to negotiate the task of alighting from the carriage. She was experiencing some difficulty, for the carriage door was too narrow for her hoops to squeeze through easily.
‘Keep your skirts still, they are swinging unbecomingly.’
‘Welcome,’ called the count. ‘I trust your journey was not too tedious?’ He kissed the baronin’s hand, and Elisabeth obediently put out her own. She thought he lingered over it longer than necessary.
‘Such a beautiful house, my lord,’ said the baronin. ‘We are honoured to be here.’ She tilted her head towards her stepdaughter to prompt her to speak.
Elisabeth had decided she would be merely demure and polite that day. She had no intention of being interesting or entertaining.
‘Honoured,’ she murmured.
The count bowed in reply and ushered them inside for refreshment.
Ornate panelling and gothic carvings lined the walls inside. Heavy red drapes shrouded the windows.
‘Magnificent,’ breathed the baronin. ‘What exquisite woodwork. It is just the style I hope to achieve in our little dining room. None of that petit-bourgeoise Biedermeier for me, I much prefer the traditional style. So aristocratic.’ She inclined her head towards Elisabeth.
‘Magnificent,’ she mumbled.
‘So glad you like it,’ said the count. ‘Come into the gallery for tea.’
The baronin expressed her admiration at everything, and Elisabeth echoed her when prompted, never saying more than one word if she could help it. They sipped tea and nibbled kipferl.
‘Would you care to look around the grounds before we dine for luncheon?’ offered the count.
‘That would be delightful,’ answered the baronin. ‘Would it not, Elisabeth?’
‘Delightful,’ she said into her teacup.
‘But if you do not object, my lord,’ said the baronin, ‘I confess the journey has induced some fatigue. Would you excuse me if I sat here quietly before luncheon? Elisabeth, however, would love to walk in the grounds.’
‘Oh, but I would not dream of leaving you alone,’ Elisabeth said quickly. ‘I am quite content to sit here also.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, you darling child.’ The baronin gave a tinkling laugh. ‘I won’t hear of it. Off you go.’
They exchanged sharp looks, and Elisabeth put down her cup a little harder than required.
‘Do not hurry on my account, my lord,’ said the baronin. ‘Show Elisabeth everything. She has been so looking forward to it.’
‘The gardens are a little bare at this time of the year,’ the count said, as he and Elisabeth stepped outside. He paused to light a fresh cigar. A wreathe of smoke curled about her before they walked on. ‘You will like them in the summer. Today I will show you what I know will interest you most.’
Elisabeth did not enquire as to his meaning; she did not want to engage in conversation.
He led her to the stretch of stables, with tree-lined meadows behind, and courtyards to the front. Everything was immaculate and well ordered; the count certainly took good care of his horses.
‘Here he is.’ The count stood before a stall, pointing with the end of his glowing cigar. ‘Bring him out,’ he ordered a groom. ‘I want my guest to see him properly.’
