“Nothing new?” Philip interceded, laughing. “Poor Anette tried for the longest time to escape old Hagen’s attention. He followed her all over the place. Didn’t you notice, Father?”
He only shook his head, surprised. “I talked to Doctor Lang about the newest procedures and progress on operations concerning diphtheria,” he replied, still occupied with their conversation about this contagious disease.
“That’s not surprising,” Verena said proudly, before turning her attention to Anette’s situation. “I have never cared for Hagen, even in his younger years. It still escapes my mind why the Esslers always have him on their guest list.”
Victoria and Philip had no answer for it as they were in a playful embrace, wishing each other a very happy 1900. Moments later, Hannes and Verena were in the same position and both couples winked at each other fondly.
Once more, Victoria’s mind ricocheted back to Verena’s unexpected arrival during the midsummer. True, there had been an awkward period of silence with a painful look at each other’s faces, but since one of their mottos was ‘only good people can love profoundly and forgive each other’, they had no trouble achieving it moments later. But she would never forget Philip’s stunned reaction. His tightly closed lips were full of disdain, to say the least. He had not only been confused, but had waited for his mother to make the first move.
“I am fully aware that I am the one who must do penance,” she had remarked rather casually for someone having been so long in the wrong. Philip had greeted her with no particular emotion, but wasted no time in introducing Victoria proudly as his wife. Victoria, in turn, gave a formal and courteous handshake, like greeting an old diplomat’s wife of whom one had heard so much about for many years and had finally had a chance to meet.
“For the past six months, I have been seeing a psychiatrist who has helped me a great deal in seeing my many faults,” Verena said, glancing uneasily at Philip, who had only shrugged with great indifference.
Ever since that fateful day, nothing much had changed between mother and son, and Hannes was trying his utmost to bring them together, like in the good old days. But according to Philip, there were not as many good old days as his father had always imagined.
“You know what my sweet little daughter Elisabeth said after I wished her a Happy New Year?” Philip said, excited after his return from the nursery. “As usual, she put her little arms around me tightly, and made the sound of our Pummerin and called the Turks ‘BAD MEN! I wonder who told her that story,” he said, looking towards his mother.
“You see, Madame, our little girl remembers certain things already. Now we have to tell her about Prince Eugen, the noble knight,” Victoria said playfully. “I would prefer you wait until she is a bit older.”
Philip smirked. “And have me present! The highly praised and legendary Prince, with feudal buildings erected in his honor, was nothing but a poor soldier from France whose own country didn’t want him to serve them. Austria, on the other hand, was bleeding to death and searching for any volunteer stupid enough to die for an Emperor from a foreign land!” Philip fumed.
“In time, I would have told her that too,” Verena replied tartly. “We Reinhardts always acknowledge the shortcomings of Austria.”
Philip was ready to tell some other news and ignored her last remark, also knowing that Victoria had heard plenty about those dreadful von Waldens by now, who were responsible for every bit of distress his mother had to endure. “The latest sad news is that Baron von Walden’s wife died in childbirth on Christmas Eve.”
“Which one of them, since there are so many?” Verena asked.
“Andrea,” Hannes interrupted. “She was the best of all the von Waldens.” Before Verena had a chance to say that there are no good von Waldens, he continued. “It happened in our hospital and it’s so very sad.”
“Why are you sad? I am sure that man will remarry after the mandatory mourning period, and have a dozen more. He has one son already and I hear he is a holy terror.”
“There is only one family left in Lindenfels, Mother.”
“Good to know,” she snapped.
“We’d better leave Verena. It’s getting quite late,” Hannes suggested, looking at his watch. He knew only too well where a discussion about any of the von Waldens would lead.
The short ride to their own mansion passed wordlessly. Verena’s thoughts were with her testy son, Philip, and while she had to admit he was very handsome, she felt that he took after his father in looks only. He couldn’t even be compared to her own Papa, who until his old age, looked not only considerably younger, but, like her own husband, he showed more class. That opinion was always being disputed, but nevertheless, it was her own. She always encountered better looking men, whether in Salzburg or in Ischl. The high season of both places, which were famous for music and theater, attracted Europe’s nobility and elite year after year. The way she saw it, many even behaved much less arrogantly and were comparably more gracious towards their families. Even the highly sophisticated Nordmanns, who enjoyed socializing with many Princes and Dukes, were more genteel towards her when she encountered them on her daily walks. What could a radiant, beautiful, refined, and highly intelligent lady, who also belonged on her mother’s side to one of Germany’s old nobility, have seen in Philip? His charm? His ever-present sense of humor? Or his total indifference? Certainly not his wealth, because she was in no way after money or social status, always putting her family life above anything else. Despite her four children and a miscarriage in five years, she looked fabulous and could have passed for twenty. She was truly a combination of Stephany and Louise. It was the only perception Lillian ever got right in sizing up a lady instead of a mare.
Her smile turned to a laugh, forcing Hannes to inquire about it. “I just thought about your sister. It was the very first time she gave the most accurate description of anyone; and I am referring to our beautiful daughter-in-law. In these few short months of knowing her, I am extremely fond of that girl. I have discovered, after each of my visits, more of those so-called cardinal virtues,” she mused happily.
“The house of Reinhardt is once more in the best hands. No one was ever worried about that, Verena. It’s only very regrettable that you missed out on four years of joy, love, and togetherness,” he said with a cracked voice, thinking that her late father Karl Reinhardt did exactly the same, although for entirely different reasons.
“I agree,” she admitted for the first time.
“But nevertheless,” Hannes added with a grim look. “you and Philip must find a way to come to terms. I cannot go on like this. Victoria and I are trying so hard to have a lovely family. We just don’t know what else to do.”
“Ha!” she replied, somewhat furious for getting blamed. “He is even less polite when you are not around. Never even wastes a look at me on my visits. He disappears into one of the other rooms, right after giving me a small nod, like throwing a beggar a morsel of bread!”
Hannes didn’t answer. There was nothing to say that he hadn’t said already. He now tried to make himself comfortable with a glass of wine, sighing sadly before taking the first sip. Verena had slammed the door to her bedroom right after they entered their place. Hannes had to defend Philip’s behavior about his spoiled wedding day, where he had looked at times so disappointed and forlorn, hoping against all odds for his mother to arrive at the last moment. That alone would have made his day complete.
“Don’t ever expect me to forgive her for that!” rang in his ears. But there was still much more. Even after the arrival of her grandchildren, she never wavered and returned only when she was good and ready. Elsa’s death was possibly one of the reasons. The other involved her own timing of her Papa’s four-year absence. “Now she has no choice but to pay for it, as most people do, who deliberately make horrendous decisions and regret them,” he thought to himself. But he hoped, nevertheless, that the year of 1900 would bring reconciliation, or at least start a process of healing, regardless of how
slow. Taking his own experiment as an example . . . the remedy has to start with the willingness to forgive. His first priority was, therefore, to stop their customary one-on-one talks, regardless of how much they were enjoyed, but to make it a one-on-three talk. After all, Verena was not only his wife, but also Philip’s mother and his children’s grandmother. And she liked Victoria as much as she would have liked any daughter-in-law. Since their first encounter, she had had nothing but praise for her. Therefore, peace in the family had to be restored.
Philip, too, was in dire need of a glass of something stronger than their traditional punch once his parents had departed. He asked his wife, who still relaxed near the window, to join him but she politely declined.
“Well, well! The snowflakes and the people down below are still dancing,” she responded gaily.
He overlooked her observation, as he was still wound up, and deeply disturbed after his father’s revelation concerning her health on the way home from their New Years’ party. “Her condition will only worsen unless something is done, and the sooner the better.” Those were his exact words as he descended the sled. Not quite knowing where to begin, he needed a great amount of courage to confront Victoria regarding their ever-growing problem of still sharing the same bedroom. Since such matters resulted usually in injury or humiliation on the part of one or the other spouse, it was usually a subject not to be talked about and one pretended that everything was all right. Therefore, the still singing and dancing crowd suited him perfectly to a certain point. It created a bit of lighter atmosphere in which to have a serious conversation, which was long overdue.
“You look extremely beautiful, Victoria. So sorry you couldn’t be with us tonight,” he started, having no idea where it would lead or how it would end. “Green is my favorite color on you; although I love you in every other color also. Black may be the exception, though you look very good in black as well. I guess it’s just the sad memories that go with it,” he continued in his usual clumsy way, while admiring her in a deep green velvet gown embroidered heavily with gold-threaded flowers. His late grandmother’s emeralds adorned the low neckline, bringing back, momentarily, all the memories of five years ago.
“Thank you, Philip, but I have the distinct feeling your mixture of wine, along with your polished compliments, is leading somewhere other than the latest creation of a well-known couturier. Please don’t try to fool me. Something is bothering you, so why not try to speak honestly about it, even if it is difficult. We are, after all, not only two civilized human beings, but you married one of the most understanding women . . . to a certain point,” she added quickly with her ever-present smile, indicating that she would remain nothing less than a German aristocrat ready for anything, no matter how painful the outcome. With his face now having taken on a tormented look, not knowing how much she already knew or suspected, he got up, pacing from one side of the room to the other, hoping that everything would fall in place as the night progressed.
“Philip,” she sighed, ready to get a different matter off her chest. “I hate to interrupt your undoubtedly carefully prepared discussion between us, but, please—” she stressed, pleading. “try to be a bit more cordial towards your mother, not only for the sake of our children, who in time will detect this deep friction, but your poor father seems to suffer a great deal. Don’t overlook the fact that she gave that wonderful man thirty-five years of great happiness, not counting the last four of course,” she concluded.
“I will give it a try… or let’s say I’ll try harder.”
“As you were about to say, Philip! So sorry I had to interrupt your thoughts.” He waved his hand as if it didn’t matter.
“Yes, Victoria—” He began to stammer, nervously glancing out the window. “On the way back, father told me how ill you are, and this coming year, which has just begun, may bring at least one or two operations. I must admit, I was not aware of your overall condition.” His great discomfort was quite visible when he continued. “Aside from the fact that there won’t be any more children, which is the least of my worries since we already have four healthy ones, I have paid very little attention, though I should have, as you never mentioned any discomfort or pain. I always thought that four children in four years is more than any Reinhardt produced in the last three centuries and let it go at that. I only mentioned it knowing how many more you wanted to have.”
“Only because I love children,” she admitted. “But I never planned to imitate Empress Maria-Theresa with her sixteen offspring.”
“Who would want that large of a brood to begin with?” Philip countered.
“Many of the so-called devout Catholics,” she assured him, forgetting momentarily that she was a convert. “But once those children were born, they didn’t know quite what to do with them,” she added bemused.
“Knowing our many servants and employees, I think I can answer that! The poor ones have them so that in later years they can help their parents to supplement their meager income.” He neglected to mention that if a woman refused, the man would go have his pleasure somewhere else. “And the wealthy ones,” He persisted. “hand them over to their staff. In my case, dear Elsa was more my mother, although I was lucky in having Aunt Lillian, Uncle Kurt, and the late Uncle Robert to whom I owe my success, aside from my generous inheritance and, of course, Papa Karl!” he smiled as Lillian and Kurt were still around, nevermind his busy father, with whom he only spends quality time whenever his schedule permits.
“I craved the same love and attention my mother showered day in and day out on my brother Stephan; his deplorable condition being only an excuse to neglect me! As if she couldn’t love two sons the same way.” He turned solemnly towards her and said softly, “You on the other hand, are the best mother.”
Victoria interrupted. “And it is the motherly part in me . . . that’s what you are trying to tell me about. Aren’t you, Philip?”
He looked crushed and guilty simultaneously, only giving a deep sigh, being deeply troubled, as he was by now convinced that she had known all along about his visits to his former bordellos again. If he could only make her somehow understand.
“But my preference for motherhood should please men like you to no end! It gives you a sort of justification for permanent infidelity. Explore anew the territories you had to leave behind for a while upon marriage, though I hate to think for how long!” she said triumphantly.
“No, it does not, Victoria! There is no justification for breaking a vow. Some of us have weak characters, while others remain strong. All the Reinhardt men before me were known to be monogamous. When my trusting father asked me this evening to continue for the next few months in total abstinence, I could have died a thousand times in utter shame! He is never to find out, Victoria. Nor Lillian and Kurt. It would kill them! That’s why I came to you . . . not that it makes it any easier, but it concerns only you and me,” he moaned, miserable and beside himself with guilt, also unsure about the outcome of his confession and request to keep it to herself.
He took the offered seat across from her with a tortured face and pounding heart. His eyes almost bored into hers, while she returned his stare wordlessly, trying to analyze his confession and what was about to come. She was upset by his plea to protect his father and the Esslers at any cost. It was evident that his mother still didn’t matter. ‘It would kill them’ echoed still in her mind, while she was without a doubt expected to forgive and go on living like the rest of Vienna’s society had for centuries. The husband enjoyed his life both ways while the wife closed her eyes. Loose morals by mutual consent. Once more, her thoughts turned to Empress Maria-Theresia for an example; a great woman who was permanently pregnant and who obviously never denied her husband’s desires. Yet she, too, closed her eyes to her very beloved husband Franz’s many known trysts!
Philip was still waiting patiently for any kind of reply, giving her all the time needed to sort things out. He held both of her hands in his caressing them, looking at the ever-present ruby ring he h
ad slipped on her finger on their first Christmas together. It was to represent his undying love for her and last forever. Now he struggled bitterly to come to terms with himself, having hurt and betrayed her in the worst way.
“Victoria,” he whispered, putting her right hand on his cheek. “will you at least tell me for how long you have known or suspected?”
“Suspected? For quite some time, but I kept on fooling myself, taking you at your word that I was the only woman you couldn’t live without!”
“And that is the God’s honest truth!” he pledged sincerely.
This time she managed a faint but malicious smile of outright disbelief. “The suspicion started two months before Elisabeth was born!”
He turned white and started to stammer. “Oh, my God! Why didn’t you question me even one time?”
“I didn’t want to force you to lie to me, as I thought it was only temporary and would pass. But I knew for sure when you kissed me ever so gratefully,” she uttered in scorn. “for giving two fine and healthy sons to the house of Reinhardt. Imagine my excruciating pain in smelling cheap perfume on you!” He put both his hands in front of his face in utter shame. “All my many hours of labor, the loss of blood, the worried look of my midwives, and the unbearable birth pains were child’s play in comparison to the agony you have inflicted on me. What was supposed to be a sigh of relief and joy at the arrival of both sons—” She paused. “Frankly speaking, I wish I had died right then and there! Whatever little was left of my feelings for you was gone. I cannot explain it any better than this.”
“Oh, my God!” he lamented over and over again, utterly bereft and desolate, still holding his hands on his face, as he was unable to look at her. “What could you have possibly thought?” he mumbled, shaking his head in disbelief continuously.
“Thought, Philip? I was not able to think clearly to a certain point. I reacted on sheer instinct like a wounded animal . . . although the parallel is different.” She gulped as though she were grasping for air. “I thought, and I swore it on my dear children’s’ lives, that you would never ever touch me again, as God is my witness.”
Yesterday Was Long Ago: Part One Page 49
