June 13, 1913—#16 Herrenstrasse, Menzing
As it turned out, they didn’t go into Munich to see the Glockenspiel the next day.
During the night, Paula went into labor. Inga was certain that it was early, or false, labor, which was confirmed when everything stopped by morning. But with Gretl, Paula had been in labor for only three hours before the birth, so they all decided it wasn’t worth the risk of being that far away from home. At Paula’s urging, Wolfie went to work so that he didn’t have to take a day off before it was necessary. Young Hans, who didn’t need to be back at the academy until later that afternoon, promised he would take the trolley in and fetch Wolfie if things changed.
They spent a quiet day together. Inga made Paula sit and watch while she cleaned the house and prepared food. Gretl was out of school for the summer and went over to a friend’s house nearby. Young Hans and his father went into the sitting room and talked together for over two hours.
When they came out, though she was curious, Inga said nothing. She waited until Paula went upstairs to take a nap and Young Hans said he had to study. When she heard the doors shut, she immediately cornered her husband. “Did he say anything about the girl?” she queried.
He shook his head. “Not a word. Not even a hint.”
She sighed. It was not a surprise, but it was a disappointment.
“I’ve decided it’s nothing. Just a harmless flirtation.”
The look she gave him was a mix of incredulity and irritation. “A flirtation?” she exclaimed. “You saw how they were kissing. How can you say that is a flirtation?”
“Hush, Inga,” he hissed, looking toward the stairs. “Hans Otto will hear you.”
Biting back a retort, she turned away. Why should she be surprised? This was how it always was with him. Hans Otto could do no wrong in his father’s sight. He readily turned a blind eye to things he didn’t want to see. And he hated confronting their son with anything unpleasant, which was so out of character for him. With merchants or customers buying their dairy products, his style was blunt, hard-nosed, and often filled with angry confrontations. Even with their girls he was quick to correct, often in a way that left them in tears. But with Young Hans his role was to be the ever-supporting, doting father. His look had said it all. If something needs to be said, it is going to have to come from you.
She spun back around. “Did you see her clothes? Did you even notice her hair and that necklace she was wearing?”
That took him aback. “Of course I saw her clothes. What about them?”
“They shout money, Hans. The necklace was gold. She wore silver bracelets. Everything about her reeked of money.”
“So?”
“She’s out of his class, Hans. She’s out of our class. She’s miles above him.”
His face instantly darkened. “That may be true of us, Inga, but not of Hans Otto. He left our so-called class the day he was accepted into the academy. We knew that was one of the benefits of his coming here. It’s not just his education. It’s the connections he’s making, the friends that he’s associating with. That’s part of what a prep school is all about, Schatzi. Connections. He has broken free from the peasant’s life.” He suddenly grinned. “Maybe he’ll marry into a rich family and take care of us in our old age.”
She didn’t think that was funny in any way. “There will be no connection here. She comes from a very wealthy family. A girl like that doesn’t marry into a family like ours. He’s going to be hurt, Hans. And if he doesn’t say anything about her, I’m going to say something to him before we go.”
“No!” Hans growled in an angry whisper. “You’ll say nothing to him unless he brings it up.”
Inga’s head came up. “Either you say something to him, or I will.” Then she whirled and went into the kitchen before he could answer her—or before she said something to him that she would later regret.
• • •
Nothing more was said of the girl that day. After an early supper, Young Hans dressed in his suit and came down to join them. Any resolve to confront him about his romantic involvement melted away as Inga watched him come into the kitchen. Tears sprang to her eyes as he stopped and did a little pirouette. “How do I look?”
“Oh, Hans,” she said in a choked voice, “where has my little boy gone? You are so handsome. And I am so proud of you.”
He came to her, bent down, and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Mama.” His voice was a little choked now too. “I love your dress. You look beautiful. I’m so glad you came.”
She pulled a face. “I wish I could say the same. I don’t want you to be ashamed.”
“Ashamed of what?” his father said as he entered the room, still tugging at his bow tie.
“Nothing,” she murmured. Her son gave her a quick glance, smiling, and then moved to his father. “And look at you, Papa. You? In a tuxedo? This is a wonder.”
To Inga’s astonishment, she saw that her husband was coloring too, something that she couldn’t remember ever seeing him do before.
“Ja,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “I almost came in my milking boots and coveralls because I knew you would never recognize me in a tuxedo.”
Young Hans slipped an arm through Inga’s arm and then turned her so he could do the same with his father. He pulled them both close against him. “I have never been more proud than I am right now,” he whispered. “So let’s go introduce the world to the Eckhardt family.”
• • •
The awards ceremony was not as large as Inga had expected. But then she remembered that the academy had fewer than two hundred students, and only a small percent of those had earned an award. She wasn’t sure why she had expected more.
The ceremony was held in Kruger Hall, which seemed to be a combination student center and lecture hall. The auditorium was not that big, but it easily held the crowd that had assembled. Hans and Inga found seats near the back and sat down. Young Hans and the other honorees were expected to sit in the first two rows, so he left them and went down front. As he moved away, Inga noticed that there were eight chairs behind the podium, but none of them were occupied yet. She would have to wait for her first live glimpse of the von Krugers.
She already knew what they looked like. Virtually every building in the school had a near life-sized portrait of them hanging on the wall. In every case, Inga had found it difficult to take her eyes off of them. They were a strikingly handsome couple. In most of the portraits, the count was dressed in some kind of military uniform, with a saber at his side. His chest was covered with various medals and ribbons. He had not been smiling in any of them, but Inga decided that his face was quite pleasant nevertheless.
The countess was stunningly beautiful, of course. Weren’t all nobility? Long, dark hair framed a round face with large, dark eyes and translucent skin. In two or three of the portraits she had the tiniest smile on her face, as if she knew something that the rest of the world didn’t. Inga liked her immediately.
Finally, she turned back to watch her son. He was still standing with several of the other students. She watched him proudly as they congratulated him on his accomplishment. Adults were also stopping by to acknowledge him. He seemed so at ease, so confident with it all. She laughed silently to herself. Hadn’t his father predicted this on that day at Neuschwanstein Castle? On another occasion, Inga had expressed concern that he would be hurt because he would be out of his class. Hans had suggested that with their son’s level of confidence, it would never occur to him that he was outclassed. Now here they were, and she had been wrong and Hans had been right.
She turned as Hans nudged her with his elbow. He was looking back toward the main door to the auditorium. He said nothing, just jerked his head in the direction of a cluster of young women who had just entered. Inga saw what he was looking at immediately. The “girl” was in the center of the group, laughing happily at something one of them had said.
“Oh, dear,” she murmured. The girl wore a white dress of som
e very expensive-looking fabric that clung softly to her figure as she walked. The gold necklace had been replaced by a string of black pearls that perfectly accented her dark hair and eyes. Even though she was in a group, she moved with a natural grace that made her stand out from the rest. She was even lovelier than she had been yesterday. People in the audience, especially the men, were turning their heads to watch as she passed by.
No wonder you’re smitten. Oh, Hans. You are in so far over your head here.
The girls moved down several rows and filed in to the seats. The girl sat in the middle of the group, where Inga could see only the back of her head. But she watched closely to see if Young Hans would turn around and acknowledge her, or vice versa. To her surprise, he did not. Nor did she seem to ever look at him.
Suddenly, those in the audience rose to their feet and began to applaud. Hans pulled Inga up to stand beside him. “It’s Count and Countess von Kruger,” he whispered.
And with that, Inga forgot about the girl and her son’s infatuation and began to clap as well. As she did so, a sense of great wonder descended upon her. In her wildest dreams she had never pictured herself in the same room with a real count and countess. She was the daughter of a Schweinehirt—a pig farmer—and the wife of a Milchbauer. She was of the peasant class from the tip of her toes to the top of her head. Yet here she was in the same room with nobility. And a little later this night, she would briefly shake their hands. And all because of their son.
Tears sprang up as she pounded her hands together with even greater vigor than before. It was all she could do not to shout out, “Bravo! Bravo, my son! Bravo!”
The awards took longer than the planners had evidently expected. It said on the Eckhardts’ invitation that the event was scheduled for 6:00 to 7:00 p.m., with the reception and tea with the von Krugers to follow in the gardens at 7:30. Only two speakers were scheduled on the program, the Dean of Students and the graduating class valedictorian, but both spoke for far longer than their allotted time. Inga watched as the von Krugers kept glancing at the clock and then looking at each other. They were clearly getting frustrated.
But all was finished by 7:15, so the person conducting the ceremony reminded the audience that they were quarter of an hour behind schedule and asked them to move immediately to the gardens for the reception.
“I don’t care if we make it to the reception or not,” Inga told her husband as they made their way down the aisle toward the front. “Let’s take Hans out somewhere.”
One look from him put an end to that. She sighed. Hans had bought his tuxedo for one reason and one reason only, and that was for meeting the count and countess in person. There was no way he was going to let that opportunity pass.
Inga suddenly remembered the girl and searched the crowd in front to see if she was there congratulating the honorees. After a moment, she spotted her. And the girl was doing just that. But to Inga’s astonishment, as she watched, she saw that the girl never got within three people of Hans. After shaking several hands, she and her friends went up the other aisle and left the hall.
Inga glanced at her husband to see if he had noticed, but he was talking to another parent, so she said nothing. But her lips set in a tight line. Before this night was over, she would either meet this girl in person or she would wring the information about her out of her son. This whole thing was getting stranger by the minute.
As they left the hall with Young Hans and headed for the gardens, Inga tried to hang back. She did not want to be the first in line—or even in the first hundred. But son and husband were eager for refreshments and pulled her along.
She needn’t have worried. By the time they got there, the line came clear out of the garden, through the rosebush archway, and back into the main quad. It took them thirty-five minutes to even get close enough to tell where the greeting line had formed. It was in the grassy area in front of the yew trees, not far from where she and Hans had stood and watched their son and the girl. She saw at once why the von Krugers had chosen that particular place. It was open enough that people could easily move on to where the refreshments were being served without having to push their way back through crowds still waiting.
As they inched their way forward, still too far away to see the count and countess, Young Hans and his father conversed back and forth. They would occasionally ask Inga a question and try to draw her in, but with every step, her anxiety shot up another few notches, and she ignored them. But as the line crawled forward with infinite slowness, the waiting became unbearable, and she knew she had to do something to take her mind off of her nerves. So she moved up beside Young Hans and joined the conversation.
They inched forward for another fifteen minutes, and then Young Hans raised his head. “Ah, there they are.” He looked down at his mother. “See. I told you they were out here somewhere.”
Inga turned to look. “Finally,” she breathed.
She saw Count and Countess von Kruger immediately. The provost of the college was first in line so he could introduce the people to them, but they were next. Both had changed their clothes since leaving the awards banquet. The countess now wore a shimmering gold ball gown covered with something shiny. The skirt was so full that her husband had to stand a good two feet away from her. He had changed from his uniform to a perfectly-tailored tuxedo with a red rose in the buttonhole. Up close, Inga could see that they were even more stunning than they had seemed before.
And then Inga gasped. She leaned forward slightly, her mouth agape. Her feet felt like they had suddenly taken root through the sidewalk.
She jerked around and looked up at Hans. One look at his face and she knew he had seen it too. He looked like an apparition had suddenly materialized before his eyes, causing the blood to drain from his face.
Slowly Inga turned back and stared at the third person in the line. She had not taken time to change her clothes. She still wore the white dress and the string of black pearls. Seeing her standing shoulder to shoulder with the countess, Inga recognized what she had missed before. The resemblance between the two of them was striking.
She felt a nudge on her arm. “What is it, Mama? What’s wrong?”
She turned to Young Hans. She had to take a quick breath before she could speak. “Who is that?”
He looked around. “Who is what?”
“The girl standing next to the countess.”
“Oh, her?” He peered more closely, a puzzled frown twisting his face.
“The girl in the white dress and black pearls.” It was all she could do not to shout it at him. The one that you were kissing so passionately yesterday.
He shrugged. “I think that’s the von Krugers’ oldest daughter. Her name is Lady Magdalena Margitte Maria von Kruger.” He said it easily, as if he had pronounced it many times before. Then he shrugged again. “Come,” he said. “It looks like we’ll get to meet her tonight too.”
“Do you know her?”
He was momentarily startled. “The young Lady von Kruger?”
“Yes,” Inga said. Her eyes were pleading. Don’t lie to me, Hans. Don’t lie to me.
It was as if he found the question amusing. “I know who she is, but that’s all. She’s a student here at the school, but in the class a year below mine.”
“But you don’t know her?”
He sniffed as if the thought were ridiculous. “People like me don’t know people like her. She’s strictly in a class all by herself.”
Inga couldn’t hide her astonishment. Those blue eyes of his were as innocent as a child’s. The stab of disappointment was so sharp that she had to look away to hide the pain.
After a moment, she turned and looked up at Hans. “I’m sorry, Schatzi, but I’m not feeling very well. Can you take me home, please?”
Without a word, her husband gave one curt nod and turned to his son. “I’m sorry, Hans Otto. Don’t worry about us. We’ll take a trolley back to your aunt’s place and—”
“What is it, Mama? Can I help you?”
“No. You need to stay. You know the way to Paula’s place. We’ll see you in the morning.”
Not waiting for him to answer, she blindly groped for her husband’s arm and then, together, they walked away.
June 14, 1913—#16 Herrenstrasse, Menzing
During the night, Paula again started into false labor, but it went away even more quickly than it had the night before. But it was enough. It was a perfect excuse for Inga.
All students were required to attend graduation, so Young Hans was up early. He had to be at the chapel to watch the processional by nine o’clock.
When Inga told him about Paula’s late-night episode and asked him how important it was for her to attend the graduation, he assured her it was not required, at least not for them, since he wasn’t graduating.
“Papa and Wolfie are going, but if it’s all right, I think I’ll take a rest now so we can have time together this afternoon before we have to go back.”
She didn’t wait for him to object or assent before she hurried up the stairs.
The men arrived back home shortly before noon. All three of them seemed to be in good spirits. When Young Hans agreed to play cards with Gretl, Inga asked her husband the question that had been on her mind all morning. He shook his head. “I didn’t say anything to him,” he whispered. “And he didn’t say anything to us.”
Relieved, Inga immediately set to work preparing lunch for the family.
Fire and Steel, Volume 1 Page 10
