by I. J. Parker
“He did not see who it was,” she said. “And he’s resting.”
“If you don’t mind, miss,” insisted the sergeant. “It’s a matter of the law.”
With a sigh, Augusta took them to her brother’s room and left them with a warning not to tire him.
They did not stay long, but by then their mother was in another tizzy about the absence of Max and the marketing that had to be done. Augusta had hardly seen her off with Elsbeth, when there was another knock at the door.
Augusta had never met her brother’s employer. Franz had said that Doctor Stiebel was shy around women. Now she saw a very small, odd-looking person, who peered up at her over his spectacles and made her an elaborate courtly bow. When he straightened, his wig was askew. His brown jacket was buttoned crookedly, and one of his white silk stockings sagged around his ankle.
“Oh,” he said nervously, “I do beg your pardon. I know it’s quite outrageous. But the occasion…you will forgive this intrusion?…I have been distracted with worry. And at such a moment, too. I mean when all seemed so hopeful. Mesmer, you know. Oh, forgive me, my dear. You must be Augusta. I’m Stiebel.”
Augusta suppressed a smile. “Yes, of course, Herr Doktor. Pray come in. I’m very glad to meet you, sir. Franz speaks of you often.” She remembered his description of the lawyer’s eccentricities and added too quickly, “With the greatest respect and affection, of course.” And blushed.
Fortunately the small gaffe passed by the little man who looked around distractedly and asked, “How is Franz? It’s not too serious, I hope. Though I was told a blow to the head…still, he’s young…but then the brain is such a delicate matter…especially in his case. I took the liberty to notify the authorities. Oh, dear.” He looked at Augusta beseechingly.
“Yes, two gendarmes were just here. Franz did not see the men who attacked him. He’s feeling better but keeping to his bed on doctor’s orders. He was so determined to go to work this morning that I had to restrain him.” She wondered if she should tell him that the stutter was nearly gone. But perhaps Franz was right, and it was only a temporary improvement. So she said, “I am anxious to know what you think of his condition, sir. He will be glad to see you. Pray come upstairs.”
Stiebel hurried after her and into Franz’s bedroom, crying, “My poor fellow!” and peering anxiously at Franz with his bandaged head, “How are you feeling? The doctor has seen you. What was the verdict?” He scurried around the bed and hopped into the armchair beside it.
Franz smiled. “You’re very good to come, sir. Nothing’s broken—except my thick head a little bit. I’m to rest just today and shall be as good as new tomorrow. I shall work very fast to catch up on Steinhilber vs. Wagner.”
“Bless my soul, never mind that.” Stiebel smiled, patted his hand, and laid it back on the cover. “Don’t, for heaven’s sake, trouble yourself with that, my dear boy. Allow your charming sister and your mama to pamper you a little longer. I’ve a free day today and shall take the case in hand. Pars sanitatis velle sanari, as you know. You must wish to get well first.” He paused to nod. “Your charming sister tells me that you did not see the villains. Tell me, do you think this attack had something to do with the letter?”
Augusta asked, “What letter?”
Franz glanced at her. “Oh, it’s nothing. I promised to deliver a letter but could not find anyone by that n-name. Doctor Stiebel offered to make enquiries for me.” He turned back to Stiebel. “It’s just a letter from a s-son to his father, sir. And besides, no one knows about it. I think last night must have been a footpad in hopes of my purse.”
Stiebel chewed his lip. “Strange. I asked because someone broke into my chambers while we were in Iznang. It’s never happened before, and I cannot account for it.”
Franz looked astonished. “Broke in? Was the letter taken, then?”
“No, no. The strongbox was attempted, though. They searched my desk and yours. Nothing was taken, I think, and they were careful not to disturb things.” He sighed. “Except my little bird. The scoundrels let him out and he’s gone. I’m sure, by now the neighbor’s cat got it. It had a very complacent look about its whiskers this morning.”
“Oh, I what a pity,” Augusta said quickly. “But do leave the window open. Perhaps it just wanted a taste of freedom and will return. And now, will you take a glass of wine, sir?”
But Stiebel was in a hurry to get back, either to work on his papers, or to look for the lost bird. At the front door, she asked, “Don’t you find Franz’s speech much improved?”
“Do I? Oh, indeed, I do!” The little lawyer brightened. “It was the great Mesmer, you know. I cannot tell you how happy I am my little scheme worked so well.”
“If it is so, dear sir, we’re most deeply indebted to you.”
“Not at all. Not at all,” Stiebel cried and dashed down the steps to escape so much gratitude.
Augusta had to deal with still another visitor. This time, she opened the door to Herr Seutter and remembered the lesson on the pianoforte. She burst into apologies, mentioning Franz’s injuries and his having been attacked the night before.
He listened with great concern. “Do not, my dear girl, fuss yourself about the lesson,” he said, taking her hand and leading her into the parlor. “It don’t signify. How is Franz? Are you all alone?” He looked around the room and frowned. “Your Mama is with the patient?”
“No, Mama’s gone out. Oh, dear. The bells are striking twelve. I must see to his broth. I wish Mama were back.” Augusta brushed a distracted hand over her curls. “The doctor said he must have broth, but I haven’t had time or veal bones…”
“Ssh! We’ll send your servant to my house. There must be some broth to be had there.”
“Oh, you’re very kind, but Elsbeth has gone with Mama.”
“What of that hulking big fellow I saw the other day?”
“Max didn’t come today.” She went to the window to look out. “I can’t imagine what happened to him. He’s never late.” Her voice trembled.
Herr Seutter joined her. “Augusta,” he said firmly, “you must calm yourself. Allow me to take some of these cares from your shoulders.” Saying this, he laid his warm hands on her shoulders, and Augusta choked back a giggle. “What’s the matter? Why are you laughing? I came to talk to you about something, but maybe this isn’t a good time.”
She apologized, feeling vaguely resentful at the way life seemed to derail all her efforts to keep control. Only Max had been there to help, and now he, too, was gone. She sat on the settee and twisted her hands in her lap, fighting tears and wishing Herr Seutter gone.
But he came to sit beside her and took her hands. “Augusta, forgive me for speaking to you now when you are troubled, but my poor heart cannot bear to see you so distracted. You know that I’ve been alone since my dear Susanna died and took our boy with her. It’s been hard, living alone in that big empty house of mine. Seeing you and your dear Mama struggling since your Papa passed away has made me see that I’m not the only one. It pained me to see two gentle ladies in such straits. And it’s made me think that all this can be put behind us in a moment. I made up my mind a long time ago and have been patient, counting the months until your next birthday before speaking to your Mama, but I cannot wait any longer. I’m afraid if I don’t speak now, I may lose my happiness forever.”
She looked at him, surprised, blinking away her tears. Why did he need her approval? Pressing his hand, she said with a smile, “But why should you wait for my birthday? I assure you, I have no objections whatsoever. And as for Mama, why I think she’ll be excessively happy.”
His face glowed. “Oh, my dearest girl!” he cried and pulled her into an embrace so fervent that it imprinted every button of his waistcoat on her bosom. “My very dearest girl. You make me the happiest man alive. And the luckiest. My dearest life! Oh, my joy! I’m blessed beyond anything.”
Augusta had begun to struggle against the painful clasp, when the parlor door o
pened and her mother and Elsbeth came in. They stopped. Her mother gasped and then shrieked.
Herr Seutter released Augusta and jumped to his feet. “My dear lady,” he cried.
“Villain,” screeched Augusta’s mother, pointing a shaking finger at him. “Viper! Oh, that I had to live for this day! I feel faint.” She swayed on her feet.
Elsbeth stood, struck speechless and paralytic, her mouth open at the drama that unfolded before her eager eyes. Herr Seutter rushed to support her mistress. When Augusta’s mother saw that she was about to find herself in his arms, she uttered another shriek. “Don’t touch me, you monster!” she cried and tottered to a chair where she collapsed. From the stairs came the thumps and curses of Franz coming down, and Augusta realized the magnitude of her mistake.
Herr Seutter had been proposing to her.
In spite of her shock and confusion, she managed to get up and say quite firmly, “Mama, there has been a misunderstanding.”
Her mother blinked, then searched her bodice for a lace handkerchief. “What misunderstanding, you unnatural girl?” she quavered. “Your perfidy was clear as day.”
“Yes, what misunderstanding?” demanded Franz from the doorway, barelegged in his nightshirt and with his head bandaged. He was pale and supported himself against the doorframe as he looked around the room. “Your servant, Seutter,” he said to the visitor. “Mama’s screams brought me down. What happened?”
Herr Seutter was red with embarrassment. “I took the liberty to make my intentions known—” he began.
Augusta interrupted, “Herr Seutter asked me if Mama would welcome his suit. When I told him, she would, he was overjoyed and embraced me. That’s all that happened.”
A startled silence fell.
Her ears burning, Augusta turned to her mother who gaped at her over her lace handkerchief. “Mama, you have shamed me and our kind friend. And Franz should be in bed. I think it will be best if we leave you to make your apologies to Herr Seutter.” She started for the door.
“Not so fast, Augusta,” growled Franz.
Dear God, she thought, don’t let him suddenly take an interest in us now. Not when he wasn’t here for all those months and years when we needed him.
Franz did not move aside.
Augusta’s despairing eyes fell on Elsbeth, who seemed fascinated by Franz in his nightshirt. “Please, Franz,” she pleaded. “You’re not dressed. Let me help you upstairs.”
Behind her, Herr Seutter cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, Franz. This is my fault and my mistake. I’m sorry for it and I also beg your pardon, madam. I should’ve spoken to both of you first. You see…”
The disastrous truth would come out after all. Augusta clapped her hands over her ears and closed her eyes. What would her mother do to her for having stolen Herr Seutter’s affection? Mama had never loved, or even liked her. How much would she hate her now? She felt her brother’s hand move her aside and opened her eyes.
He went to stand beside his mother, his hand on her shoulder. Frau von Langsdorff wept in earnest now and clutched her son’s hand. “Go on,” Franz said in a dangerous voice.
Herr Seutter looked terrified. He raised, then lowered his arms helplessly. Augusta’s heart went out to him. “I,” he started, blushing with embarrassment, “I was speaking to Augusta. I mean, it was Augusta’s hand in marriage I was asking for. Only—” he faltered and gave Augusta a despairing look that twisted her heart.
“You did what?” Franz cried. “You had the gall to come here and pay court to a mere child? You dared to seduce my sister? An innocent girl who’s barely past childhood? You, a man old enough to be my father and hers? My skin crawls at it. Oh, yes, I see what you were up to. With me at war, you saw her unprotected and used false charity to gain the confidence of two naive women. You toyed with their affections so you could lay your dirty hands on an innocent child. What will you say to the good burghers of this city when these charges are brought against you?”
Augusta rushed to her brother and, ignoring his injury, shook him hard. “No, Franz! No!”
He thrust her aside. “Leave the room, Augusta! We will speak later.”
Augusta felt sick, She wished her brother’s stutter had prevented his speech. Turning toward Herr Seutter, she saw how pale he was and made half a move to go to him, but he held up his hand and she dared not defy her family. Tears of pity spilled over as her silence shamed her.
They looked at each other for a long moment, then he bowed his head, and walked out. Nobody spoke until they heard the sound of the front door closing.
Franz bent over his mother. “That damned villain! I’m sorry, Mama. It’s better to know a man’s true character, even when such revelations are painful.”
Frau von Langsdorff dabbed at her eyes. “You shouldn’t have left us alone, Franz,” she whimpered. “It was too much for me. I couldn’t be expected to cope. Without a decent income, too. I was busy making ends meet and pinching pennies. How could I see your sister’s deceitful ways in going to his house all the time. She said it was to teach him the pianoforte. Hah!”
Augusta dashed away her tears with clenched fists. “Shame on you, Mama, for saying such filthy things. And you, Franz, you had no right to hurt a kind man who has treated all of us—yes, you, too—with nothing but generous friendship. He has never taken liberties with me. And I only showed him how to play his pianoforte. That was all. He’s the soul of kindness and courtesy. If you want to know the truth, if I hadn’t thought he was courting Mama, I would’ve been deeply honored by his proposal.” She burst into fresh tears.
Franz glared. “Are you mad? Why, the very thought of this…this common old man…touching you—it should disgust you.”
Augusta gasped. She had never been so angry with her family in her life. Wishing they were strangers, she ran from the room.
*
Max spent the night in the Catholic church. He prayed and wept and cursed Koehl. At sunrise, the priest found him stretched out on the cold stone floor, sobbing softly. He asked, “Are you troubled, my son?”
Max had not heard him approach on soft-soled shoes and jumped up to flee.
The priest, an old man in a black cassock, blocked his way. “This is the house of God,” he said soothingly. “You’re quite safe here. It is a sanctuary even for those who have committed a crime.”
Max backed away. “How did you—?” He broke off and took a deep breath. Then he wiped away the tears and saw that his hand was bloody.
“If you’ll come into the sacristy, I’ll wash off the blood and apply some ointment to your wound.”
“It’s nothing. A fight. That’s all it was. I’ve got to go, Father. Thanks.” Max tried to slip past him.
The priest looked more sharply into his face and put a hand on his arm. “Don’t go, my son. If you need to unburden your soul,” he gestured toward the confessional, “I have time to listen.”
Max shuddered convulsively. “No. Not now. Another time.”
The priest sighed and released him.
Max ran from the church. At the fountain outside, he washed his face and drank thirstily. He caught a glimpse of himself in the water. His left eye was swollen shut above the raw cut across his cheekbone. He looked bad enough to frighten children. The sun was up and people would soon be on their way to work. He had to find out what he had done.
He walked quickly to Fischergasse, but stopped to peer around the corner at the house. It looked as always in the morning sun. Then the door opened, and Elsbeth came out. She walked off toward the market. It all seemed quite normal. Perhaps the news had not reached them yet.
But then he saw the two gendarmes coming down the street. At the von Langsdorff house, they stopped and knocked.
Max’s stomach heaved, and he fled. He had killed a man. He had murdered his angel’s brother. He should sooner have taken his own life than bring her grief. Wandering about blindly, he muttered to himself. People got out of his way, a
nd a man cursed when he stumbled over his dog. Go ahead, he thought, call the gendarmes. Have me arrested. This time I’ll hang, and it serves me right.
At some point—he was not sure when—he stood in the market near a flower stand. An old woman sat among the pails of phlox, dahlias, zinnias, and every other kind of flower in every shade of the rainbow. He was lost in the multitude of hues and shapes and scents. Augusta loved flowers. His hand felt for the silver in his pocket, the Judas silver he had earned for killing her brother. Nausea rose again, and he turned away.
“Here,” urged the old woman, holding out a bunch of asters and daisies. “Been in a fight? Give flowers to her, and she’ll give you plenty of lovin’ instead of what you deserve.” She cackled.
Sick, Max cursed her and turned away.
That’s when he saw them. In front of the vegetable stands. Augusta’s mother in a sprigged gown and lacy white cap under a straw hat. And Elsbeth in her apron and with the market basket over an arm. Shopping!
It couldn’t have been news of murder that the guards had brought.
An enormous weight lifted, and he laughed out loud and skipped a little. The flower woman grumbled sourly, “Drunken fool!”
But Max was puzzled. He knew his cudgel had made contact with the lieutenant’s head before the door of the house opened and he had to take to his heels. Even if he hadn’t killed him, he was still in plenty of trouble. What if her brother had recognized him? What if the guards had been there because Langsdorff wanted to lay charges against Max? Were they already searching for him? He touched the cut on his cheek. The lieutenant had been too handy with his stick.
He had botched the job, been sick before the attack, had vomited afterward, and still got queasy thinking about it. He wasn’t a killer, he was a thief. That probably accounted for it. His heart hadn’t been in it. That and the woman coming out of her house. But his employer’s threat still hung over him. That devil would make sure that Max would hang—one way or the other.
