“Sorry, miss. Your father said you weren’t to leave unless escorted by him.”
“Tell my vater I demand to see him at once.” Phoebe had barely spoken the words in a civil manner. She slammed her door shut and found Gerda looking at her in surprise.
“This is preposterous, Gerda. I dared to disagree with him about marrying an ancient duke who needs a son, and he makes me a prisoner.”
“He is trying to give you a good life, ja?”
“No. He’s trying to sell me to the highest bidder.” Phoebe crossed the room and plopped in an unladylike fashion into a chair. “If he thinks he’s won this match, he’s greatly mistaken.”
“What will you do?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
Lunch was delivered to her room as it had been every day since her father had put the guard in place. Phoebe ate, and all the while she tried to figure out how to get word to her mother. Suppertime came, and her father still did not send for her or even come to see her. He was clearly punishing her with his absence. It was his way of showing her that her thoughts and feelings on the matter were of no import.
After a restless night, Phoebe was no closer to knowing what to do than she had been when she’d first learned of her plight. She dressed, all but ignoring Gerda’s comments about the day.
“Is that man still outside my door?”
Gerda nodded. “Ja, he’s still there.”
A knock sounded on the door, and Gerda immediately crossed to see who it was, with Phoebe following on her heels. Hubert stood beside the guard. He spoke to Phoebe in German but seemed anxious, as if afraid the guard might understand him. “Your father has asked me to bring you to breakfast in his suite.”
Phoebe thought to refuse, then reconsidered. “Very well.”
She said nothing more, although she gave the guard a glaring look as she walked past him. Her father had definitely overstepped his bounds, but perhaps there was wisdom in remaining calm.
Her father sat at the table in his suite reading a newspaper. He glanced over the top of the paper as Phoebe took her place. Without any word between them, Vater folded the paper and handed it to Hubert.
“That will be all for now.”
“Very good, sir.” Hubert took the paper and exited the suite.
Phoebe fixed her father with a stern look but said nothing. She was beyond anger and afraid that if she said anything at all, she might well regret it.
“I suppose you will continue to sit there pouting until I allow for this matter to be discussed,” her father said, picking up his napkin. “So say what it is you wish to say, and let us be done with this.”
Phoebe continued to stare. Her father helped himself to eggs and sausages while she said nothing. He looked up at one point, shrugged, and then poured himself a cup of tea.
“Since you are determined to remain silent, I will presume that means you have come to accept my punishment.”
“I haven’t accepted anything.” Phoebe folded her arms against her breast.
“You acted like a child, so I thought it only right to treat you like one.”
“No, you are treating me like a criminal. Is it your intention to imprison me until our departure?”
Vater took a sip of the tea before leaning back in his chair. “That is up to you.”
Phoebe knew she would have to choose her words carefully. If she acted in further defiance, she would be forced back into her room and there would be no hope of getting word to her mother.
“So what are the terms of regaining my freedom?”
Her father actually smiled. “That you would go back to being the obedient child I raised and understand that the choices I’ve made on your behalf are for your benefit.”
“I see.”
Vater shook his head. “But I don’t think you do. You gave me no chance to explain about the duke.”
Phoebe nodded. It was to her benefit to at least pretend to be willing to hear him out. “Very well. Explain.”
“You see, the duke is wealthy and well positioned. He can give you whatever you want, and all he wants in return are sons and a beautiful woman to host his parties and take charge of his household. You will be invited to the finest parties, wear the best clothes, and travel wherever you might choose. If you are discreet, you might even take a lover. You will have everything a woman could want.”
“Except for love,” Phoebe murmured.
“Love is a modern notion. Until this century daughters and even sons understood the importance of the alliances their parents made on their behalf. Arranging marriages for his children is the privilege of a father. It must benefit both parties, and this arrangement will do exactly that.”
“So you have sold me to the duke. What is it you stand to gain from the arrangement?”
He laughed and picked up a piece of buttered toast. “I will gain a great deal. My daughter will be a duchess. All of society will receive me, and such an alliance will open doors for me that were previously closed. Above all else, it will put me in further good stead with the kaiser. The duke is his dear friend, and it will please the kaiser to no end to see him happily settled with heirs.”
Phoebe tried to calm her anger. She had to be wise about this. Her father was used to playing this game, and if she was to best him at it, she would have to think as he did.
“I suppose I hadn’t thought of the benefits.” She picked up a piece of toast and nibbled on it. Perhaps if her father saw her eating, he would believe her to have acquiesced.
“See, now you are being reasonable.” He smiled. “I know that this might seem difficult to understand, but in time you will thank me. The duke is a generous man. You will enjoy more wealth than you’ve ever known. And he lives in a palace. Imagine being mistress over one hundred servants and a house filled with treasures. You will entertain queens and kings.”
“How wonderful.” Phoebe hoped the sarcasm she felt wasn’t evident in her voice.
“Exactly.” Her father smiled. “Not only that, but once you give the duke sons, you will be set for life. The duke, as you pointed out, is older and . . .” Her father gave a shrug. “He won’t live forever.”
“So he might die in the coming years, leaving me with our children.”
“And his wealth. He would leave that to his son, and you would manage it in his stead until the child reached his majority. Better still, you could appoint me to aid you in that matter, leaving you free to do whatever you choose.”
“Ah, I see.” Phoebe wanted to scream but forced herself to address the matter in the same cold, calculating manner of her father. “It all makes perfect sense—now.”
“Since you understand, I would like to make things right between us. I have tickets for the theater tonight and thought you might accompany me.”
“If that is your wish.” Phoebe reasoned that if she could get him to return her freedom, she would seek out her mother. Together they would be able to figure out a way for Phoebe to escape her father.
“It is my wish. I believe we will have an excellent time. We will have an early supper and then join a new friend of mine, Mr. Thompson. He and his wife will accompany us. Tomorrow I have very important plans to meet with him.”
Phoebe nodded and pretended to be more interested in the choice of fruit than she really was. The last thing she wanted to do was spend the evening trying to convince everyone she was happy.
“Now, I insist you have some breakfast. Gerda tells me you’ve been quite miserable and aren’t eating. I would hate for you to grow ill. Ours was nothing more than a misunderstanding. I was tired, and my trip had taken its toll. There were very few modern conveniences at the mine, as well as some disappointing complications. Everything worked out in the end, but it all was to blame for my temper.” He extended the platter of sausages.
Phoebe took one and placed it on her plate. “I presumed as much.”
Her father seemed pleased that she wasn’t going to say anything on the subject. He turned his attention i
n earnest to the meal at hand, while Phoebe continued to ponder her options.
Phoebe decided to stay in her room the rest of the morning. Perhaps if Vater saw that she wasn’t all that desperate to leave her quarters, he would release the guard and believe all was well. It seemed to work. Phoebe noted more than once when Gerda left the room that no one was waiting outside. With plenty of time on her hands, Phoebe plotted exactly what she needed to do. Everything would hinge on Mutter.
That evening, Phoebe dressed with particular care. She donned a dark blue gown with jet-black trim. The midnight-blue attire suited her mood, and the style was of the latest fashion for the theater.
Earlier in the day Gerda had wisely accepted that Phoebe didn’t wish to talk. She’d remained close at hand, however, silent. Phoebe had the feeling that Gerda was watching her for some response or reaction. Had Vater asked the maid for reports on her conduct? Phoebe wouldn’t have put it past him. Then she recalled her father’s statement that Gerda had told him Phoebe wasn’t eating.
“Things are better with your vater, ja? You will have a good time tonight?”
Phoebe nodded but said nothing. She toyed with the clasp of her necklace instead. Once she had secured the pearl choker around her neck, Phoebe reached for her long gloves and pulled them on up over her elbows. After this she put a matching pearl bracelet on her left wrist.
“Do you wish to wear the earrings?” Gerda asked.
“No. Help me with this hat,” Phoebe commanded, handing a black velvet cap with dark blue tulle and feathers that had been dyed to match the gown.
“You look quite beautiful. I think you will be the desire of every man at the theater.”
“That is hardly my intent.” Phoebe fussed with the tulle as Gerda secured a hatpin. She knew being sullen with Gerda was uncalled for, but the events of the day left Phoebe in a quandary. She wasn’t about to marry the duke, but neither could she make such a declaration. It was too great a risk that Gerda would report such a comment.
“You will soon marry, and then every man will have to hide his desire for you.”
Phoebe turned and looked at the woman. “Did my vater tell you that I was soon to marry?”
“Ja,” Gerda said, nodding. “It is a good thing, ja?” She smiled. “The duke is a good catch. You will be the envy of all.”
Phoebe said nothing. Her growing suspicions had been confirmed. It was clear that her father had confided in the woman, just as Gerda had shared information with him. A sense of dread settled over Phoebe. Gerda was her father’s means of keeping tabs on her.
I wasn’t the one who chose her to accompany me. Vater found her and made the arrangements. What a fool I’ve been! Gerda no doubt reports to him on my every move—my every comment.
In order to test this, Phoebe decided to share some sort of information with Gerda and see how quickly it reached her father’s ear.
“I do hope Herr Eckhardt is at the theater this evening.” Phoebe offered the information quite casually. “I thought him to be most fascinating. He . . . ah . . . well, he invited me to go riding with him. We were to go tomorrow,” she lied. “I don’t suppose Vater would approve, but then again, he doesn’t have to know.” She smiled at Gerda. “I know Vater mentioned he would be busy with Mr. Thompson all day.”
Gerda said nothing. She retrieved a black lace shawl for Phoebe and then curtsied. “I’ll be waiting for your return tonight. Should I have a bath drawn?”
“No. I have no idea of when we’ll be back. Given the water is easy enough to come by, we will manage it upon my return.”
“Ja.” Gerda nodded and began picking up Phoebe’s discarded clothes.
Phoebe could tell that Gerda was uncomfortable. It only served to convince Phoebe that she was on the right track. She’d know for certain, however, if her father changed his plans for the following day.
“Why don’t you let Vater know that I’m ready to go?”
Gerda nodded, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. She hurried for the door as if she feared Phoebe would change her mind. Once she’d gone, Phoebe began to think through a plan. She needed to get word to her mother without Gerda or anyone else being the wiser. But how?
The evening was just as tedious and boring as Phoebe had feared it might be. The play was acceptable, but her mood made it impossible to enjoy the frivolity. The night seemed to go on and on, but finally the carriage made its way back to the resort, and Phoebe breathed a sigh of relief.
“Mr. Thompson has been quite useful to me,” Vater said as he helped Phoebe from the carriage. “I’m certain we can conclude our business quickly with his help.”
“No doubt you are right,” Phoebe said. “Perhaps your meeting with him tomorrow will allow you to know just how much time you’ll need.”
“Well . . . about that. Mr. Thompson had something come up. We’ve postponed our meeting, and that leaves me free to enjoy the day with you. I’m afraid I have neglected you.”
Phoebe shivered, but not from the cold. “But you said it was of the utmost importance that you meet tomorrow.”
“I know what I said, Phoebe.” He looked at her with a smile. “But plans can be changed.”
“I see.” She allowed him to guide her toward the stairs.
“Perhaps tomorrow we could go into Helena and buy you something pretty.” He let go his hold on her arm as Phoebe began to climb the steps. She looked down at her father, who still stood at the bottom. “We will need to order you a new wedding wardrobe—one which your husband will pay for. You can’t dress as the daughter of a graf once you are married to a duke.”
“I suppose you are right on that account. There is a shop in town where I was able to purchase an American riding outfit. The woman there has a large collection of drawings showing the latest Worth gowns. Better still, she had a few designs of Paul Poiret, and I am a huge admirer of his work. I’m sure we could have the seamstress take my measurements, choose materials and such, and order the clothes via telegraph. We could pick them up in Paris on our return home.”
“That’s a brilliant idea,” her father agreed. “Let us have breakfast in the morning and plan out our day. But not too early. I promised to have a drink with someone yet tonight. I might be several hours in discussing business. Come to think of it, let us have brunch instead of breakfast—say at eleven?”
Phoebe smiled. “That would be quite perfect.” She came back down one step, then leaned over to kiss her father’s forehead. “Good night.”
He smiled, seeming quite pleased. Phoebe hurried up the stairs. Her thoughts were all about how she might rise early and sneak away before her father had a chance to know. Gerda had evidently told him about Eckhardt. He never would have changed his plans for any other reason.
She entered her suite and found Gerda waiting faithfully. Phoebe detested the woman’s presence now that she knew exactly what was going on. Even so, she knew she couldn’t let on.
“Oh my. I am quite exhausted. You know, I believe I will do as my vater plans to do and sleep quite late. We’re going to have brunch together in the morning around eleven, so don’t bother to wake me before ten. In fact, why don’t you use the morning hours to see to the laundry?”
“Ja. That would be good. It’s nice and cool in the morning hours.”
Phoebe let Gerda help her disrobe. “We’re going to go shopping after that, so I don’t suppose I shall be able to go riding with Herr Eckhardt. Pity, because he is such a handsome man. But what can I do?” She smiled and shrugged. “I shall let Vater send him a note in the morning.”
“Ja,” Gerda said, nodding.
Phoebe pulled on her robe and headed toward the bathroom. “I won’t need you anymore tonight, Gerda.” She closed the door between them before Gerda could reply.
Drawing a deep breath, Phoebe sat on the edge of the tub and tried to figure out how she would manage things in the morning. If she could slip away to her mother’s cottage, Phoebe knew she would be able to plan her escape. Mutter would be
the one person who would understand and offer her assistance. No one else could be trusted.
“Phoebe! I’ve been so worried about you. They told me you were sick. Are you better now?”
“I wasn’t sick.” Phoebe offered nothing more but glanced over her shoulder as if worried someone was watching. “May I come in?”
Elizabeth looked at her daughter in complete surprise. It was only a little past seven, and Elizabeth had only been up for a short time. “Of course. I was just doing my Bible reading.”
She noted that Phoebe glanced over her shoulder not once but twice and then hurried into the cottage. “I need to talk to you.”
“Why don’t you come sit at my kitchen table? Are you hungry? You look exhausted. Are you sure you haven’t been ill?”
“I am quite well. I didn’t sleep last night, though.”
“Come have some breakfast and tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m not hungry, but I do need to talk.”
Elizabeth led the way and motioned for her daughter to take a chair. “Some tea, then?”
“Yes. Tea would be fine.”
It was clear that Phoebe was upset about something. Their relationship was in such a delicate state, Elizabeth didn’t want to do anything to put up a wall between them.
“I have a problem,” Phoebe began without Elizabeth saying a word.
“Tell me.” Elizabeth picked up the teapot and brought it to the table before going to the cupboard for another cup and saucer.
For several moments Phoebe said nothing. She stared at the cup as Elizabeth poured the tea, and she continued to stare at it after Elizabeth had taken her seat. Uncertain what she should do, Elizabeth sat in silence and glanced down at her open Bible. Psalm sixty-nine had been her focus that morning, and midway down she found that the words of the psalmist matched her own prayer.
But as for me, my prayer is unto thee, O LORD, in an acceptable time: O God, in the multitude of thy mercy hear me, in the truth of thy salvation. Deliver me out of the mire, and let me not sink: let me be delivered from them that hate me, and out of the deep waters. Let not the waterflood overflow me, neither let the deep swallow me up, and let not the pit shut her mouth upon me. Hear me, O LORD; for thy lovingkindness is good: turn unto me according to the multitude of thy tender mercies. And hide not thy face from thy servant; for I am in trouble: hear me speedily. Draw nigh unto my soul, and redeem it: deliver me because of mine enemies.
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