by Ellin Carsta
He crept up the stairs as quietly as possible, avoiding the sixth step, which had creaked for as long as he could remember. He made it to the hallway, tiptoed to his bedroom, and opened the door as softly as he could. He listened hard, trying to make out any sounds, unable to see anything in the dark. His eyes gradually adjusted, and he saw that the bed was untouched. He exhaled audibly, turned, and left the room.
He stopped at Georg and Vera’s bedroom door and listened for a minute. He could hear sounds, soft and muted, but nonetheless distinct. He hesitated. What if Vera and his brother were in there? He dismissed the thought. Why would Vera have written him in desperation if the two of them were still sharing a bed? No, it didn’t make sense. He pressed the door handle as gently as he could and opened it. He could sense some movement on the bed in the dark. He wondered what time it was; the electricity was turned off at eleven o’clock. He wasn’t sure how long he’d stayed in the park, but he would bet it wasn’t eleven yet. So he reached for the light switch.
Elisabeth, sitting on Georg, let out a shrill cry, quickly rolled off her lover, and held up the sheet over her bare breasts. Georg sat up with a jerk and stared at Robert as if seeing a ghost.
Robert gave them a cold, disgusted stare. “What a delightful surprise after such a long journey!”
“Robert, we can explain . . .”
“Oh? I’d absolutely love to hear that,” he retorted, folding his arms across his chest.
There were footsteps in the hallway. Frederike and Martha appeared in the doorway. Both of them put their hands to their mouths, aghast.
“Father,” Martha said in confusion as she looked at Robert. Then she looked back at the bed. “Mother?”
Elisabeth looked away, humiliation written all over her face. “You two, leave!”
“Why? So you can put on a dress? Just stand up and show them what you are: a whore.”
“Robert!” Georg croaked. “Don’t talk to her that way!”
“Don’t tell me how to speak to my wife! She’s a whore, and you’re a rotten scoundrel.”
“Oh, please don’t!” Frederike implored and started to cry.
Robert struggled to get himself under control. “Martha, Frederike, this has nothing to do with you. Go back to your rooms until I call you.”
“But I—” Martha tried to object.
“This minute!” Robert commanded.
Frederike and Martha looked at each other, distraught, then ran back down the hallway into Frederike’s room.
“I’ll wait for you two downstairs. I think we have some things to discuss.” Robert slammed the door behind him and went downstairs.
“Herr Hansen, sir!” Anna stood in the hallway in her bathrobe and looked at him with relief. “You’re home?”
“Indeed I am. Good evening, Anna. My sister-in-law’s letter told me you’d helped her. Where is she, anyway?”
The housekeeper pressed her hand against her mouth, unable to hold back her tears. “Herr Hansen and your wife sent her away.”
Robert came closer. “What do you mean—they sent her away?”
“She’s in a clinic for people with nervous disorders.”
“Nervous disorders?” he asked, flabbergasted. “Vera’s not sick!”
“I know,” Anna agreed as the tears ran down her cheeks. “Oh, if only you hadn’t left, sir!”
“What’s the clinic called?”
“I don’t know, sir.” She sobbed. “I just know that she’s in Berlin.”
“Berlin?” he asked in disbelief and thought for a minute. “Does Dr. Arnsberg know about this?”
“Yes, sir. He was the one who committed madame. But only because he was told lies.” She sobbed again.
Robert looked up as Georg appeared and proceeded calmly down the stairs. Anna took one look at him, curtsied, and ran off like a frightened animal.
“I’m sorry, Robert. This wasn’t at all planned.”
Robert looked at his brother, pulled back his arm, and punched him in the face with all his strength. Georg staggered and fell on the stairs, remaining there.
“I deserved that.” He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and grimaced with pain.
“You deserve a hell of a lot more than that, but I don’t want to get my hands dirty. I despise you, Georg.”
Georg looked up at him. “I love you, Robert.”
“Wonderful. You can keep that damned bitch for yourself!”
“Don’t talk about her like that!”
“I’ll talk about her any way I want. And you as well, you monster! I’ll never, ever forgive you two!”
“Robert, do let me explain, please.”
“No.” Robert stopped him short. “There’s nothing you can say in your defense. I trusted you, Georg. Your betrayal hits me harder than hers.”
“I don’t know what to say. I . . . She’s . . .”
“I left everything and went to Cameroon to save our family from being ruined. And this is the thanks I get!” he spat. “God knows you deserve each other!”
Georg looked away and gave up any attempt to explain himself.
“I feel nothing but contempt for you, brother.” Robert emphasized the last word with scorn. “I promise you’re going to regret your adultery. You and your whore who sneaks into your room.” He pushed past Georg and ran upstairs.
Georg watched him go. He felt powerless, unable to go after him, but somehow he managed to pull himself to his feet.
Robert went straight to Frederike’s room. He knocked and carefully opened the door. “May I come in?”
Frederike and Martha were sitting on the bed, crying.
“Of course,” Martha managed to say.
“I’m so sorry you had to see this.”
“We didn’t know anything about it, honestly!” Tears kept streaming down her cheeks.
Robert sat down beside them. “Of course not. And you couldn’t have done anything if you had,” he said in a calm, sympathetic voice.
“When did you come back to Hamburg?” Martha asked.
“Today.”
“And Luise?”
“She stayed in Cameroon,” Robert explained. “I must go back. I know it’s a horrible situation for both of you. Of course you can’t stay in this house. Not as long as those two are here.”
Frederike and Martha wailed loudly.
“But where will we go?” Frederike sobbed.
“To your uncle Karl. I’m sure he’ll care for you until I’ve straightened things out in Cameroon.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have to talk to Uncle Karl first,” Robert said. “After that I’ll know exactly what will happen.”
“What are we to do?”
“Pack up a few things. You’re coming with me. We are leaving this house right now.”
Frederike and Martha exchanged a look of tacit agreement. They got up and each took a suitcase from the closet and began to pack. Robert waited in the doorway in case Georg or Elisabeth tried to intervene, but neither of them did.
When the three of them came to the stairway, Robert saw that Georg was no longer there. He carried the girls’ suitcases downstairs and asked Anna to have the carriage driver hitch up the horses.
“Where are you going?” Georg shouted as he and Elisabeth emerged from his bedroom. The right side of his face was swollen.
“I’m taking the girls away from here.”
“I can’t stop you from taking your daughter, but Frederike stays here.”
“I’m sure I’m acting as their mother would wish by taking them with me. And they want to come.”
“I’m her father, and I will not permit you to take Frederike with you.”
“Father, please, I want to stay with Uncle Robert,” Frederike begged.
“Take your suitcases and go outside,” Robert said calmly to Martha and Frederike, who obeyed instantly.
Robert took a few steps toward the staircase. “She’s your daughter and my niece, and I won’t allow her to
live in a degenerate household any longer. You can forbid me to take her—but you can’t prevent me.”
Georg came down the first two stairs, but Elisabeth held him by the arm. “Please, Georg, don’t!”
“Yes, Georg, better listen to your lover. If you try to stop me, I can’t guarantee what will happen. You never won a fight with me when we were children. And now I won’t stop just because you’re pleading for mercy.” He looked at his brother coldly.
“Georg, we will clear this up. But not this way. I beg you. He cannot take your daughter away. At least not for good,” Elisabeth implored.
Robert waited for a moment to see if Georg would come down. When he didn’t move, Robert tossed his head up scornfully, turned around, and went to the door.
There he turned back again.
“You two will rue this—I swear it!”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Berlin, November 24, 1889
They had spent the night in a simple lodging near the train station before taking the first train to Berlin, arriving at about four in the afternoon. They took a carriage to the Charité, the famous hospital where the clinic was housed.
Robert was a bit on edge. He didn’t know what lay before them but was determined not to leave the clinic without Vera. In Hamburg he’d considered seeing Dr. Arnsberg, who had been the family doctor for many years, and asking why he’d refer Vera to the clinic. Robert had always thought him a man of integrity who took his oath seriously. But Robert didn’t know who was trustworthy, and he couldn’t risk having the doctor contact Georg and Elisabeth and so upset his plan.
“You know what to say if anybody asks?”
Martha and Frederike nodded in unison.
“Good. Let’s go.”
They went into the hospital, and Robert addressed the first person they met.
“Good day. My name is Georg Hansen. I would like to visit my wife.”
“Hansen? What’s your wife’s illness?”
“She’s in rehabilitation, recovering from exhaustion.”
“Of course. That’s a different wing. Down the corridor, then left into the adjacent building.”
“Thank you.” Robert tipped his hat. “Good day.”
They followed the directions, coming to a locked door, where Robert rang the bell.
A moment later a stout, friendly lady of about forty opened the door and asked, “What can I do for you?”
“Georg Hansen. And these are my daughter and niece. We would like to see my wife, Vera.”
“I don’t know if Frau Hansen is allowed visitors.”
“I beg your pardon? Who will stop me from seeing my wife?”
“Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that. Our patients need special care.” She opened the door wider. “Please come in. I’ll ask the professor.”
“Thank you.”
“Have a seat over there,” she said. “I’ll be just a minute.” She left the room.
They exchanged glances and sat down. Robert rubbed his thighs several times; he was nervous, almost visibly so. But he had to get a grip on himself. If he wanted to fool a professor of neurology, he’d have to concentrate fully.
After a while the nurse came back with a man Robert estimated to be about fifty. He rose to his feet.
“Herr Hansen?” the man asked. “Professor Helmut Hoffmann.”
“Good day, Professor Hoffmann.” Robert gestured toward the girls. “My daughter and my niece.”
The professor welcomed the girls and asked, “What may I do for you, Herr Hansen?”
“I should like to see my wife, Vera.”
“Your wife?” The professor furrowed his brow. “I’m astonished.”
“I can imagine why. You think my wife’s husband is another man, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“I’m afraid I have some explaining to do. I, sir, am a coward.”
The doctor looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“When my wife came here, she was with my brother and his wife.”
“They introduced themselves as her husband and sister-in-law.”
“Because I asked them to.” He took the professor aside as if not wanting the girls to hear. “Vera and I have had significant problems over the past few weeks, no, months. We quarreled, and I’m afraid I put her under too much pressure. We needed distance from each other, and she needed care, and I knew this clinic could help. But I didn’t feel I could bring her here myself.” He raised his arms in a gesture of helplessness. “And I was afraid there might be problems in admitting her if her brother-in-law and not her husband signed the papers. I ask your forgiveness for that. I’ve regained my composure now and would like us to be a family once again.”
“I understand, Herr Hansen. And I thank you for being so candid.”
“How is Vera?”
“Well, she’s calmer. But I’m afraid there is still much work to do.” He cleared his throat. “I shall be as frank as you were, Herr Hansen. Your wife believes that you are having an affair with her sister-in-law.”
“That is my fault. I did indeed let Elisabeth come too close in my despair over my wife’s condition. But please do not think anything untoward happened. I merely asked her for support and advice, when I should have asked my wife. But I’m certain that Vera and I can set our problems aside if I can just see her.”
“I understand your wish to see her. I will ask the patient if she would like to see you.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
“Please wait here.”
He left, and Robert sat down next to the girls again.
The professor returned after a brief while.
“I’m sorry, Herr Hansen. She refuses to see you.”
“I could just look into her room. I know she would change her mind.”
The professor considered it.
“I’m very sorry.”
“What about Martha and Frederike? Would she like to see them?”
“The patient became very agitated when she learned you were here, Herr Hansen. I’m afraid I cannot allow her to become agitated again. She said I should tell you, word for word, that you and your”—he looked at the girls and decided not to quote Vera exactly—“that you and your sister-in-law can go to hell. Then she collapsed in tears.”
Frederike jumped up. “I want to talk to her just for a minute. Please tell her that!” she urgently asked.
“All right, I’ll ask her.”
He left the room again. When he came back he said to Frederike, “She will be happy to see you.”
“Thank you.”
Frederike glanced at Robert and nodded before following the professor. He knocked at the patient’s door. “Frau Hansen, your daughter is here.”
Frederike poked her head through the doorway. “Hello, Mother.”
Vera was so overcome that she held a hand to her mouth, stood, and ran to her daughter. The two embraced and wept.
“I’m so happy to see you,” Vera cried as they separated themselves, and she caressed Frederike’s cheek.
“Me, too.”
They both went over to the bed.
“May I be alone with my mother for a minute?”
“Of course. I’ll close the door and wait in the hall.”
He was barely out the door when Frederike seized her mother’s hands.
“Please listen carefully. It’s Uncle Robert who’s here, not Father. You were right. Father and Aunt Elisabeth were betraying you. Uncle Robert told us on the train that you wrote to him for help. That’s why we’re here. We want to take you with us, Mother. But Uncle Robert was afraid they wouldn’t discharge you unless they believed he was your husband.”
Vera gasped and put a hand to her chest. “Robert? Oh my God!”
“Yes, Mother. That’s why you must pretend he’s your husband. So we can get you out of here.”
Vera nodded firmly, stood up from the bed, and went to the door. “Professor Hoffmann?”
“Yes, Frau Hansen?”
&nb
sp; “I would like to speak with my husband now.”
The doctor peered past his patient and gave Frederike a stern look. “You mustn’t let yourself be influenced by anything, Frau Hansen. That would compromise your recovery.”
“It was an old anger that came back when I heard my husband was here. But it’s passed. I would like to speak with him. Please fetch him, Professor.”
“All right. As you wish.”
Frederike and her mother waited in silence. They were too tense, too nervous to utter a single word. They heard footsteps in the corridor, and the professor came in with Robert and Martha.
“Martha,” Vera welcomed her niece first and hugged her. Then she looked at Robert. “Georg! Thank you for coming.”
Robert walked over and hugged her. “Vera, you look recovered! How do you feel?”
“Perfectly fine, thank you.”
“Well, well. So your time here has helped you.”
“Yes. I know I was against it at the start. But you were right to insist I come here.”
“I’m so glad you see it that way. Now I believe we can only solve our problems together. If you want to, I’d very much like you to come home with us.”
“One moment,” the professor interrupted. “It’s not that simple.”
“What?” Robert asked in surprise.
“Well, I explained it to your brother—when I assumed he was you—during the admission process. Your wife was referred by Dr. Arnsberg, and we’ve signed a contract. Of course, it was your brother-in-law who signed your name, but the contract is valid.”
“As far as I can see, this is a clinic and not a jail. If my wife wants to leave and I, her husband, agree, I don’t know on what grounds you can keep Vera here.”
“The length of stay that was agreed must be adhered to,” the professor insisted.
Robert thought quickly.
“Now I see, Professor. Of course the contract will be honored in full.” He paused because he didn’t know whether his brother had paid everything in advance or there was money owed. “My brother said the cost of treatment has been paid.”
“That is correct.”
“My wife and I are most grateful to you for your help. It was worth all the money in the world. Consider our payment as compensation. Naturally, we will forego a refund.”
