“Most sensible of you,” said Ragoczy, and then waited while van der Boom brought the business ledgers for him to inspect. “I will take this to the front office, if you do not mind.”
“Away from the Graf?” van der Boom said with a knowing wink.
“And the noise, and the heat,” said Ragoczy, aware that in such an environment, his inability to sweat might draw unwanted attention.
“I’m used to both,” said van der Boom. “I’ll come in an hour to see how you are faring.”
Ragoczy took the ledger and slipped it under his arm. “You keep excellent records, Heer van der Boom, for which I am most grateful.”
“May you say the same thing when you are through perusing them,” said van der Boom.
Von Ravensberg was glaring at the page in his hand as Ragoczy passed by him on his way to the outer office; noticing the ledger Ragoczy carried, von Ravensberg transferred his disapproval to that volume. “The demands of tradesmen! Do you not have factors to do that for you?” He waited for a suitable answer.
“I have been cheated by factors before, Graf, so I am now inclined to trust myself in such matters.” He patted the side of the ledger.
“You assume that the figures entered are correct,” said von Ravensberg.
“Yes. That much I do expect, and if they are incorrect, I should see the pattern of it in the pages.” He had caught more than one factor shifting the sums in the records in years past, and had learned how to recognize such manipulations. He kept on walking until he reached the front office and found a work-table with two tall stools set in front of it. He perched on the stool, laid out the ledger, and began to read.
More than an hour later, van der Boom joined him, saying, “The Graf has corrected ten sheets of four pages, each side.”
“That must be a relief for you,” said Ragoczy, slipping a sheet of paper into the ledger to mark his progress; he closed the book, saying, “It all appears correct thus far.”
“It should be. I try to keep full records of everything. No matter what von Ravensberg may suspect, I conduct my trade honestly.”
“I have never thought otherwise,” said Ragoczy quietly.
Van der Boom was quiet for a short while, then asked, “Will you go to his reception?”
“Probably,” said Ragoczy. “It would seem odd that I, a participant publisher, did not accept his hospitality.”
“That’s plausible,” said van der Boom as he thought about the possibilities.
“For the sake of Eclipse Press, I will make an appearance,” said Ragoczy, making up his mind.
“On behalf of Eclipse Press, I thank you.” He chuckled. “Strange, what business may demand of us.”
“Strange, indeed,” said Ragoczy.
“He’ll be back tomorrow, to find more errors.”
“No doubt,” said Ragoczy.
Van der Boom leaned on the table. “It is good that he takes so much care, given that his text is so … technical, and the topic is such a daring one. The work is bound to generate discussion, which should mean good sales. But he is also going to be criticized, and not just by the Church, but by physicians and students of anatomy.” He looked toward the hazy window. “It’s getting on to evening. He will have to wait until morning if he wants to read carefully.”
“You will be closing the press-room shortly,” said Ragoczy.
“And you may want to be gone before the Graf can offer to take you to your house. You will have him with you all evening if you permit him that courtesy.” Van der Boom righted himself. “I’ll tell him that you have departed, if you like.”
Ragoczy rose from the stool. “Very well. I will call again at mid-day tomorrow, if that suits you.”
“It should do,” said van der Boom. He tapped his nose. “The Graf has a ward. You heard him say it.”
“A ward is a child,” said Ragoczy.
“Child or no, he may be looking to find her a husband,” van der Boom cautioned Ragoczy. “You have a fortune and a title. He may hope you will be something more than a dance partner for her.”
“Since I never dance, I think I will be safe,” said Ragoczy. “But your timely reminder is appreciated,” he said as he made for the front door and went out into the long, angular shadows that spread along the narrow streets, under a sky that lit the canals with sunset fires.
Text of a letter from Helmut Frederich Lambert Ahrent Ritterslandt, Graf von Scharffensee at Scharffensee in Austria, to Hero Iocasta Ariadne Corvosaggio von Scharffensee at Château Ragoczy near Lake Geneva, Yvoire, Switzerland; carried by private messenger and delivered in four days, but was not read until Hero’s return on September 9th.
Graf von Scharffensee sends his greetings and condolences to his daughter-in-law, on this, the 16thday of August, 1817, with the assurance that her daughter received the finest medical care possible.
It is my sad duty to inform you that your daughter, Annamaria, took a fever in late July. At first it seemed nothing more than the usual summer fevers that one endures, but in your daughter’s case, the fever spread to her lungs and they became putrid. When the usual remedies failed, a physician from Salzburg was called, Herr Doktor Schalter, whose reputation is of the highest order. He prescribed purging and a course of poultices to draw out the putrescence, but in spite of all that was done, she could not rally, and last night passed into that deadly lethargy that indicated the end was near. The priest from Scharffensee was sent for to administer Last Rites, and she died at two in the morning. I have arranged for her to be interred in the family chapel at Scharffensee, and will place an appropriate plaque on her tomb.
Her brothers are much shocked by her death, and so I have promised them a special entertainment at Christmas, which must, perforce, delay your visit until next summer. I am sure you can see the wisdom in this, and will not embarrass them, or me, or yourself in emotional protests at this most difficult time. I have no doubt that you will want your sons to put their grief behind them as quickly as possible, and you must see that your presence, with the loss of their sister so new in their lives, can only aggravate their sorrow. Better to give them time before visiting them.
With Annamaria dead, I will discharge her teacher, Frau Linderlein, with three months’ pay and a letter of commendation. She, I must tell you, is most distressed by the loss of her pupil, and has spent the morning in weeping. This unseemly display of copious tears has caused Berend great anguish, and I feel the sooner Frau Linderlein is gone from Scharffensee, the better for all of us.
Know that my sympathies are with you, and that your daughter is in the care of God’s Angels. It is no easy thing to part with a child—as I have cause to know—but it is what has been sent for us to endure. I pray you have fortitude enough to weather this sorrow.
Your father-in-law,
Helmut Frederich Lambert Ahrent Ritterslandt
Graf von Scharffensee
PART II
SAINT-GERMAIN RAGOCZY, COMTE FRANCISCUS
Text of a letter from Edgar St. Andrews, Scottish merchant resident in Amsterdam, to Wallache Gerhard Winifrith Sieffert Graf von Ravensberg at his Amsterdam hotel, written in Dutch and delivered by messenger.
To the most excellent Graf von Ravensberg the greetings of Edgar St. Andrews on this, the 18thday of August, 1817
My dear Graf,
I have to thank you for the many displays of hospitality you have shown me and my wife in your stay in this city which is foreign to us both, as it is to you. In the two years I have resided here, I have not, until now, been so graciously and magnanimously entertained by anyone, Dutch or foreign, so your kindness to me and my wife is welcomed for its novelty as well as its benignancy. I am sincerely obliged to you for your courtesy.
This being the case, I am deeply sorry that I cannot recommend anyone known to me as a potential suitor for the hand of your ward, lovely young woman though she is, and worthy as she must be of finding a suitable spouse, a man of rank and character who will maintain her consequence—and your
s—in the polite world. Even so charming a girl as your ward is at a disadvantage in these difficult times, and I am all sympathy to you in your plight; her future happiness is in your hands, and the fate of your House. So many matters to consider, and you with your own work to do.
Since the wars and the many upheavals that have convulsed the Continent, it must be doubly difficult to launch a young woman of noble birth into a union that is acceptable not only to you, but to the family of the apposite men. My employers make it a policy only to employ married men, and therefore all my colleagues are constituted as I am. But I will keep your request in mind, and if any appropriate fellow should make himself known to me, I will at the first opportunity inform you of it.
Having two daughters of my own, I understand how you are concerned with establishing your niece well in the world. With the loss of so many men in the Great Army in Napoleon’s dreadful Russian Campaign, it is astonishing that there are not more unmarried women in the world. As it is, there are far too many widows. I have been considering sending my daughters to their aunt in London for their coming-out, for just the same reasons as you have discussed with me.
I look forward to the publication of your book, and wish you every success with it. I cannot, myself, imagine what work it must be to undertake such an enterprise; I am in awe of your attainment, sir, and I cannot tell you what a privilege it is to know a man who has done as much as you have.
I wish you a safe journey back to Austria. I am pleased to hear that the roads are supposed to be clear most of the way: I trust they will remain so. Let me reiterate again my thanks for your kind invitation to call at Ravensberg if ever I reach Austria. Rest assured that I will do so when I have the good fortune to visit that land.
With cordial personal regards,
I am,
Edgar St. Andrews
Campbell & Ochie, Importers
Amsterdam
1
“That child is back,” said Hero as she looked out the window of the reception room at the front of Ragoczy’s Amsterdam house. “Walking unattended, at the height of the morning when half of Amsterdam is abroad, and without a carriage to accompany her.” She frowned. “No—wait; she’s not alone. Gutesohnes is with her.”
Ragoczy, at the secretary on the far side of this sunny chamber, continued to review the pages in his hands. “Is he.”
“I don’t know if his being with her is better or worse than if she were walking alone. Silly, isn’t it? Her own coachman would be more than acceptable, but I don’t think Gutesohnes is. The Dutch aren’t as strict as the Austrians, but this is still beyond the acceptable bounds of what young single ladies may do,” said Hero. “Not that I am for all the limitations imposed on women: I am not. Yet it is folly to flout them, or to fly in the face of convention. For girls like her, some allowance may be made for high spirits. Still, if she wants to be careful of her reputation …”
“That seems to be a concern of her guardian, and one for which he is strangely lax,” said Ragoczy, thinking back to the way Hyacinthie had behaved two nights ago, making a display of herself while her uncle entertained four booksellers and Ragoczy in anticipation of the publication of his book.
“Her uncle, if I may say so, pays little heed to Hyacinthie. He is far more concerned for his book than for her.”
“Without doubt,” said Ragoczy.
“It must be difficult for her,” said Hero musingly. “To be attractive and yet to live in the shadow of her uncle’s study.”
“And to live in the isolation of Ravensberg—no wonder she flaunts herself here, while she has the opportunity.”
“She is a flirt,” Hero declared, watching Hyacinthie twirl her parasol as she looked up at Gutesohnes.
“Hardly surprising: she is young and her uncle is determined to sell her to the highest bidder or most high-born—to that extent he is concerned for her at all.” Ragoczy frowned as he said this, his sympathy going out to the young woman even as he considered her predicament. “She is attempting to secure herself.”
“If that is the case, she would do better not to flirt with the coachman.” Hero laughed, a little sadly. “But I understand you—she is practicing, isn’t she?”
Ragoczy put the pages aside and came to the divan where Hero was sitting. He lifted the curtain. “Ah. I see what you mean,” he agreed. “Practicing, indeed.”
“Such a pretty child,” said Hero. “But so determined to ensnare every man she sees. That may yet bring her to grief.” She rounded on Ragoczy. “She will probably try to engage your attention.”
“She already has, upon two occasions at least,” said Ragoczy with a single shake of his head.
“She has?” Hero said, not entirely surprised.
“Yes,” he responded. “I was certain you had noticed: once at the reception we attended, and once when she came with her uncle to Eclipse Press. I would not be astonished to learn that her uncle encourages her.”
Hero pulled the curtain out of his hand and settled back on the divan. “She’s coming this way.”
“Paying a visit?” he ventured, and went on in a singularly neutral tone, “How … how charming.”
She gave him a short, uncertain look. “You’re displeased.”
“I am uneasy,” he said as he heard the knocker sound, and Kuyskill go down the hall to open the door.
“Do you suppose she will—” Hero began, then fell silent as she heard Hyacinthie ask for Comte Franciscus.
Ragoczy held up his hand in caution, and moved back to the small secretary where the pages he had been examining were stacked.
“—from my uncle, Graf von Ravensberg,” Hyacinthie’s raised voice sounded from the entryway; she spoke in French.
“I do not know that the Comte is home to visitors. I will inquire.” Kuyskill’s tone made it clear he disapproved of young ladies paying visits without escorts. “If you will wait?” Giving her no time to answer, he left her standing on the front steps and came into the reception room. “Comte,” he said apologetically, “there is a caller, who claims she brings a letter from the Graf von Ravensberg. Shall I admit her or send her—”
“Admit her, by all means,” said Ragoczy. “And bring a glass of lemonade to her. On a warm day like this, she must be thirsty.”
Kuyskill pokered up, but nodded. “Of course, Comte.” He turned to leave the room.
“You see what I mean; the servants will call her a hoyden,” said Hero quietly.
“All but Gutesohnes,” said Ragoczy, equally softly.
“That will only make it worse,” said Hero, and rose to welcome Hyacinthie to the house.
Hyacinthie, her flower-patterned parasol furled, stood in the doorway, resplendent in a fashionable walking dress of sprigged muslin in a pale shade of lavender accented with knots of blue-green floss at the neck and cuffs. Her bonnet was abbreviated, showing more of her dark-blond hair than was thought fitting for her age and position in society. She bobbed a polite curtsy to Ragoczy, then to Hero as Kuyskill announced her in disapproving accents. “Good morning,” she said when the steward had withdrawn from the reception room.
“And to you, Fraulein Sieffert,” said Ragoczy, using French for everything but her title and name. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
“I have a note from my uncle that he charged me to bring to you.” She held out her lace-mittened hand, proffering a small envelope of cream-laid paper on which Ragoczy’s name had been written with a flourish. “He instructed me to wait for an answer.”
“It is urgent, then?” Ragoczy inquired as he took the envelope and broke the seal.
“Yes. We are leaving the day after tomorrow, you see,” she said with a blinding smile. “We return to Ravensberg.”
“A considerable journey,” said Hero. “You must be busy, making preparations.”
“The hotel is doing everything for us. My uncle and his valet are supervising. I was in the way until I was given this task to perform.” She looked a bit forlorn. “I will miss Amst
erdam.”
“I should think so,” said Hero. “It is exciting to see new places and meet new people.”
“Especially when I do not often get to receive guests or travel.” Hyacinthie sighed. “Visitors come rarely to Ravensberg. Except for the people who call in so my uncle may study their blood, we go from year to year seeing the same twenty faces. And the servants, of course.”
“Not an easy thing for a young woman,” Hero sympathized.
“Not what I would prefer,” said Hyacinthie in a rush. “It would be so much nicer to go to parties and balls in Vienna, or even Salzburg. But my uncle cannot spare the time or the money from his research.”
Hero had sat down again, and now indicated the chair at the end of the divan; she did her best to make the girl feel welcome. “Do have a seat, Hyacinthie, and tell me more about yourself. We haven’t had much of an opportunity to become acquainted. The Comte will finish reading your uncle’s note and he will prepare an answer for you to take back to him.” She smiled encouragement even as she noticed Hyacinthie’s ill-concealed disappointment at not acquiring all of Ragoczy’s attention. “For how long have you lived with your uncle?”
“There is little to tell about my life,” said Hyacinthie. “My parents died when I was seven and my uncle took me in. He has cared for me ever since.” Under her gentle words there was an implacable note, something hard that turned her remark bitter. “Now he will find me a husband. He says he has to do so. He has two other wards, younger than I am, to care for.”
Hero was spared the necessity of responding to Hyacinthie’s revelations by Kuyskill coming into the reception room with a glass of lemonade and a plate of sweet biscuits on a tray. He bowed as he put this on the occasional table between the divan and the chair, then withdrew, radiating disapproval.
When the steward was gone, Ragoczy said, “The Graf has kindly invited me to attend a celebration for the publication of his book in November. I am going to request that he send an invitation when he has set the time of the festivities, and if it is possible, to do my utmost to attend, weather and business permitting.” He drew a sheet of fine rag paper out of a shelf in the secretary and moved the stacks of paper aside so he could write a response to von Ravensberg.
Saint-Germain 21: Borne in Blood: A Novel of the Count Saint-Germain Page 13
