It seemed a remarkable coincidence that Frau Graben had come into the shop and that I had been there to attend to her, that she had been so eager to talk in her own language that she was now sitting drinking tea in this house and bringing back so vividly that romantic adventure which had begun eleven years ago in the mist.
As she was leaving she said suddenly, “Now you’re the sort of person we’d want to teach them English.”
I felt a little faint. I stammered: “But I’m not a teacher.”
She went on: “It would have to be an English person. The Count was thinking of a tutor. But I don’t think a woman would be out of place . . . better I think. Women understand children more. I wonder . . .”
“I had no intention of teaching,” I said. “You would want somebody qualified.”
“He’d want someone of education, but the main thing is someone who’d understand the children and speak German so well you could hardly tell it wasn’t spoken by a native. Yes, I do reckon you’re just the one.”
“If I had been looking for such a post . . .” I began.
“It would only be for a short time, of course. I don’t know how long they’d take to learn. You love the mountains and the pine forests, don’t you? You’d live in the Schloss. I’d be there, as the Schlossmutter. I’m in charge of the children’s household. There’s something about you . . . sympathetic . . . that’s it. When the Count talked of having an English tutor I didn’t like it at all. I don’t want a man interfering in my household. I’d like a nice young woman, I thought. But not one of those stern, sharp-voiced English mistresses. Oh no! I wouldn’t want that. I told the Count so. But my tongue’s running away with me. If he engages a tutor, a tutor it’ll be. Perhaps he has already done so. Well, it has been interesting talking to you.”
I said: “You must come again.”
She held my hand when she said goodbye and there were tears in her eyes, as she thanked me for being kind and taking in the “stranger within my gates.”
That night I scarcely slept at all. I was so excited. I thought of the Schloss on the mountain looking down on the capital city and I longed to be there. I knew that I could never settle down happily with Anthony until I had made one great effort to discover the truth of what happened to me on the Night of the Seventh Moon.
I asked Frau Graben to tea again, just before she left Oxford. She talked of her home, of the children, of customs and feast days of Rochenstein, of good Duke Carl who was stern and serious, so different from some of the previous rulers and members of his family. She told me about the visit of the Crown Prince and Princess of Prussia and I knew, didn’t I, that the Crown Princess was Victoria who was named after her mother the Queen of England.
I was in a panic because she seemed to have completely forgotten her reference to the English teacher who would be wanted for the Count’s children. I knew that I wanted to go, that this was an opportunity, a flimsy one it was true, and one which had come about as unexpectedly as . . . as the visit of Ilse and Ernst.
I had hoped that my cousin would ask me to pay another visit but she never wrote. Perhaps Ilse was not a good letter writer and once she had assured herself that I had settled down after my experience she thought correspondence unnecessary. But she might have answered my letters.
It was I who had to make the reference. “I should like to know that you return safely,” I said. “Would you write to me? I feel you have become a friend and I should like to know how you get along with the tutor.”
“Oh, that tutor!” she cried. “I hope he never comes.” She looked at me, her plump face earnest. “Suppose I was to mention our meeting. The Count sets store on my opinion. Would you . . . ? Just suppose he thought it might be a good idea.” She warmed to the subject. “It would save so much trouble. We would have an English woman and there wouldn’t be the fuss of seeing you. I’ve done that already. I can think of no one more suitable, from my point of view. I could tell the Count . . .”
“I’d . . . I’d like to think about it.”
She nodded. “Well, that’s something. I’ll mention you, and if he hasn’t done anything, and if he agrees . . .”
“Well,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “You might mention it.”
Now I could think of nothing but the possibility.
It was nine years ago since the day I left. Nine years! I should have made greater efforts to discover what had happened. I had accepted the solution given me by Ilse and Ernst, but they had faded into the past and seemed more unreal than Maximilian could ever be. Perhaps if I could go back I might discover the answer.
I must go back. I could take a holiday there perhaps with Anthony. No, that would not do. I should have to go as his wife and I must be free . . . free for whatever I should find.
I did not wish to go as a tourist. But to go to the Schloss on the mountainside, looking down on the capital city . . . that was what I wanted. I knew then that I must go.
I lived in a fever of excitement. I was absentminded in the shop. I kept away from the vicarage as much as possible.
“You are letting those Elkington women’s gossip bother you,” said Anthony. “You mustn’t, you know. We’d face anything there was to face together.”
But it was not that. I was obsessed by the thought that I might find him. So it would be throughout my life. If ever I had known that marriage with Anthony would be unfair to him and perhaps wrong for me, I knew it now.
And at length there was the letter.
I was trembling so much that I could scarcely open it. The words danced before my eyes.
She had spoken to the Count. He agreed that the idea was excellent and as she had already vetted me there would be no need for any other recommendations. Would I let them know when I should be arriving and the sooner the better as far as they were concerned.
I was so excited I rushed into the shop and told Amelia.
“Go away to teach! You’re crazy. What about Anthony?”
“Nothing has been settled between us.”
Aunt Matty was distraught. Just as she had thought I was nicely settled!
“Perhaps it won’t last long,” I said. “I might not like it.”
“Go for a holiday,” advised Amelia. “Take a month or so and when you come back you’d have made up your mind to marry Anthony.”
But what could they know of this violent longing.
Mr. and Mrs. Greville were clearly hurt but Anthony understood.
“Go,” he said. “This place meant something to you when you were young and impressionable. You’ll see it differently now you’re grown up. You’ll come back and then I’ll be waiting for you.”
He understood as no one else could.
I did love him—but not in the wild unreasoning way I had loved before. I knew I was saying goodbye (but he said au revoir) to the best of men.
All the same when the day of my departure arrived I felt more like the young girl I had once been than I had for nine long weary years.
TWO
It was dark when I arrived at the Schloss Klocksburg so that it was not until morning that I was able to take stock of my surroundings. I awoke to the sunshine of an early summer’s morning which filtered into my room through two long narrow slits of window. A feeling of overpowering excitement was with me and for a few moments I lay still saying to myself: “I’m here. I’m back.”
Then I got out of bed and went to the window. From it I could look down onto the plateau from which the castle rose; I knew we were high because of the laborious manner in which the horses had climbed the previous evening. I guessed that the castle had been built in the twelfth or thirteenth century like so many I had seen in this part of the world, as a fortress, and had been added to as time progressed. I was sure that the fortress in which I had my room was older than the buildings I was looking down on. These would be known as the Randhausburg, which meant surrounding house-castle, and they would contain the main living quarters.
Beyond them I co
uld look down into the valley to the town of Rochenberg which was the capital city of Duke Carl’s domain. How beautiful it was in the light of early morning, with its mellowed rooftops, its towers and turrets. Smoke was rising from some of the chimneys. Far above it on the hill stood another castle of imposing appearance. Like the Schloss Klocksburg there was the fortress with its turrets rising up stark from the mountainside, proclaiming its impregnability; I could make out the machicolated friezes which adorned the watch tower, and the round tower with the pointed roof and battlements from which in the past boiling oil and water would have been hurled down on attacking enemies. It was the most impressive of any among all the many castles I had ever seen.
A knock on my door made me turn from the window. It was a maid with hot water. Breakfast would arrive in fifteen minutes’ time, she told me.
In a state of exultation I washed and dressed. I shook out my long dark hair in the way Maximilian had liked it to be when we had taken our breakfast in the hunting lodge. The magic was coming back to me so vividly, that I don’t think I should have been surprised to see him walk in, but when there was a knock on the door it was only the maid with my breakfast tray—coffee, rye bread, and lots of fresh unsalted butter. It tasted good and while I was drinking my second cup of coffee there was another knock and Frau Graben came in.
She was beaming and looked as though she were very proud of herself.
“So you’re really here,” she said.
It was gratifying to know that my presence gave her so much pleasure. “Oh, I do hope you are going to be happy,” she went on. “I’ve impressed on Dagobert that he must be a good boy because it is a great honor that an English lady should come all this way to teach him. If you have any difficulty with him just tell him that his father would not be pleased; that will quieten him. It always does.”
“When shall I see them?”
“As soon as you’re ready. Perhaps you’d like to talk to them a bit about what you’re going to teach them. You won’t want to start lessons today. When you’ve seen them I will take you round the castle.”
“Thank you. I shall be most interested to see it. That’s a very big castle I can see from my window.”
She smiled. “That’s the Duke’s residence,” she said. “Oh yes, it’s more grand than little Klocksburg which is only right and proper. I came to the royal castle when I was a young girl and looked after the boys. It became like home to me. And then afterwards the Count wanted me here. That was when Dagobert was born and he didn’t know what to do with the child. After that Fritzi and Liesel joined us. But drink up your coffee or it will get cold. Is it to your liking?”
I said it was excellent.
“I believe you are quite excited about being here. I can see it’s done you good already.”
I replied that I hoped I should give satisfaction. I had never taught before.
“This isn’t ordinary teaching,” she said with that comfortable complacency which I had found rather charming. “It’s conversation that matters, so that they get the right accent. That’s what the Count will look for.”
“I’m very eager to see them.”
“They’ll have had breakfast. I’ll send for them to come to the schoolroom.”
We left my room and descended a spiral staircase which led into a hall. “This is where the schoolroom is,” she said.
“Are we in the Randhausburg?”
“No . . . we’re still in the fortress. The children have their rooms here just below yours but the rest of the household lives more in the Randhausburg.”
She opened a door. “This is the schoolroom,” she said. “The pastor comes to teach them. You will have to make your arrangements with him about the English lessons.”
“There should be a lesson every day,” I said. “I am sure regularity is necessary. Perhaps an hour a day and very soon I hope to converse in English when I am with them, and perhaps take them for walks and give them easy lessons that way.”
“That sounds excellent.”
We went into the schoolroom—quite a large room with several embrasures in which were windows looking down on the town and across to the royal castle. The view from the windows was breathtaking.
There was a long table, rather scratched on its surface, and the legs were kicked. I guessed many generations of children had sat at that table. In the embrasures were window seats on which lay books.
I remarked that it was a very pleasant room in which to work.
Frau Graben glanced at the watch pinned to her blouse.
“They will be here very soon,” she said. “I do hope they are not going to be too difficult.”
There was a knock on the door and one of the maids entered; she was holding a little girl by the hand and behind her came two boys.
“This is Dagobert and Fritz and here is Liesel,” said Frau Graben.
Dagobert clicked his heels and bowed from the waist, Fritz watching him did the same, Liesel dropped a curtsy.
“This is Miss Trant who has come to teach you English.”
“Good morning,” said Dagobert in guttural English.
“Good morning,” I replied. Dagobert looked at his brother and sister as though expecting applause.
I smiled at them. “We shall soon have you all speaking English,” I said in German.
“Is it easy?” asked Fritz.
“When you’ve mastered it,” I assured them.
“Shall I speak it?” asked Liesel.
“You will all speak it.”
Frau Graben said: “I will leave you with the children and then you can get to know them more easily. Perhaps they could show you the castle. That would be a good way of getting friendly.”
I thanked her. She was tactful, and I was sure that I could come to terms with my new pupils more easily on my own.
Liesel ran to the door as it shut on Frau Graben. I said: “Come back, Liesel, and make my acquaintance.”
Liesel turned and put her tongue out at me.
Dagobert said: “She’s only a seamstress’ daughter. She doesn’t know how to behave.”
Liesel began to scream: “I do. My papa is the Count. He will beat you. My papa loves me.”
“Our father would not have you forget your manners,” said Dagobert. “So although you have the misfortune to be the daughter of a common seamstress, you have a noble father and you should not disgrace him.”
“You disgrace him,” said Liesel.
Dagobert turned to me: “Take no notice of her, Fräulein Trant,” he said, but his eyes as they swept over me were contemptuous and it struck me that I should have more trouble with him than with the wayward Liesel.
Fritz—Frau Graben’s Fritzi—had not spoken. He was regarding me with solemn dark eyes. It occurred to me that he might be the more difficult to understand. I had already decided that Dagobert was a young braggart, Liesel a spoiled child, but I had yet to form an opinion of Fritz.
“So you are Fritz,” I said.
He nodded.
“You’re not to nod,” said Dagobert. “Papa said so. You have to speak and say yes or no.”
I said: “You are going to learn English. Do you know any yet?”
“I know Good afternoon, Mr.”
“Good afternoon, Mrs.,” chanted Liesel.
Dagobert crowned it with: “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen!” and watched me for applause.
“That is all very well,” I said, “but will not get you very far. What else do you know?”
“God save the Queen!” said Dagobert. “We shouted it when the Queen of England came here. We all had flags and had to wave them.” He waved an imaginary flag; then he started to run round the room shouting “God save the Queen.”
I said: “Please be quiet now, Dagobert. The Queen is not here so it is not necessary. You have shown me how you shouted for her when she was here, so I know.”
Dagobert paused. “But I want to shout for the Queen.”
“The rest of us might not want
to hear.”
The children all looked expectant and Dagobert said craftily: “But you’ve just come to teach us English, not to tell us when we can’t shout for the Queen.”
The other two looked at Dagobert in admiration. I could imagine the state of affairs. He was Cock of the Nursery and as they looked up to him, I could imagine his spreading rebellion. He had too high an opinion of himself. That, I decided, must be deflated as soon as possible.
I said: “If I am going to teach you I must have some authority. It is not a very admirable or clever thing to do to run round a room calling out a catch phrase even though it does show a hospitable sentiment toward the Queen of England. As I wanted to talk to you about your lessons I would prefer you not to continue, Dagobert.”
Dagobert was astonished. I knew at once that he was not correctly disciplined and that he needed a firm hand more than the others. I could certainly look for trouble from Dagobert.
“My father went to Saxe-Coburg to see the Queen,” Fritz told me shyly.
“That was a long time ago,” said Dagobert scornfully. “Prince Albert is dead and the Queen is a widow, God save the Queen. God . . .”
“Not again, Dagobert,” I said.
“But if I want to I will.”
“In your own company then,” I said. “I am going to ask Fritz and Liesel to show me the Schloss, and I shall tell them about our English lessons.”
Dagobert looked at me coldly defiant; his legs apart, his head flung back, his blue eyes flashing.
I turned away and said: “Come, Fritz . . . Liesel . . .”
Dagobert said: “No. You’re not to.”
I felt my future authority depended on the next few seconds so I took Liesel’s hand. She tried to draw it away but I held it firmly. Her big blue eyes surveyed me with a kind of scared wonder. It was Fritz who decided.
“I’ll show you, Fräulein,” he said.
“Thank you, Fritz.”
His eyes were large and expressive. I knew that he had scarcely stopped looking at me since they had come into the room. I smiled at him and he smiled shyly back.
On the Night of the Seventh Moon Page 15
