“They took my lines from me,” I said.
“It will not be easy, Lenchen. There is my father who is very sick. I don’t think he has long to live and this could hasten his death.”
“I begin to see what it will mean. How I wish that you had been—say a lawyer, a doctor, or a woodcutter in your little cottage. How happy I should have been then!”
“Ah, Lenchen, how fortunate these people are! They are not watched at every turn. Their actions are not the spark that sets off mighty conflicts. This is the worst possible time. Klarenbock will consider this an insult to the ruling house. It could mean war with them . . . at a time when the French are threatening to march against Prussia which would involve the entire German states. I must have time to think. I can only be sure of one thing. I love you, Lenchen. You have come back to me and we shall never be parted again.”
“As long as you tell me that, as long as I may be with you, I am content.”
“It must be settled soon, my dearest. I can’t bear the uncertainty. Whatever happens we must be together, and not in secret. But I must go. They will be missing me.”
I went with him out into the early morning and watched him ride away.
As I came back into the fortress and mounted the stairs to my bridal chamber I heard footsteps behind me and I guessed who it was. Frau Graben’s hair was in iron curlers under a sleeping cap; her eyes were sparkling and she was smiling secretly, delighted with herself, with me and her Master Lightning. I thought fleetingly that she must always have lived vicariously through her boys, and therefore this must be one of the most exciting occasions of her life.
She said: “So he’s gone.”
She followed me into the room. I sat on the bed while she settled comfortably into a chair. “Well,” she said, “he’s happy again, happy as he hasn’t been for nine years. You have a big responsibility, Miss Trant. Oh, I mustn’t call you that now, must I—but just for old times sake until your title’s known. Well, you’ve got a lot to answer for. You’ve got to keep him happy.” She laughed. “My goodness, I’ve never seen him so pleased with life. Fancy that!”
“And you knew who I was all the time.”
She was overcome with secret mirth. “You must admit I did it well. I said, ‘I want a phrase book, something to help me along with the language.’ And you hadn’t a notion. And weren’t you frightened, eh, when you thought I wasn’t going to ask you to come along and teach the children!”
“Yes,” I agreed.
“And when you came I was hard put to it not to confide in you. And he was away in Berlin! I couldn’t wait for him to come back. Mind you, it’s a bit more than I bargained for. Hildegarde thought it was a mock marriage and it would have been a lot easier if it had been. That’s something people understand. But married to the Duke’s heir and him having made a state marriage to a princess that’s brought us closer to Klarenbock and that being so important . . . well, I don’t know!” Then she laughed as she studied me. “But you can’t think of what’s to be, can you? You can only think of him and that you’re together again. Well, that’s how it is. But the reckoning has to come. What a man our Lightning is! They still talk about his great-great-grandfather, Maximilian Carl. He was a great duke and a great lover, too. He’s a legend in these parts and I used to say to Hildegarde when Maxi used to go off riding in the forest or practicing his archery and shooting in the courtyard, I’d say; ‘Look at him, Hildegarde. There’s another Maximilian Carl. A legend, eh?’ And so will he be. The Duke who found a schoolgirl in the forest and married her. What a story! And that’s not the end, eh? We’ve got to wait for that. Now what’s going to happen?” Her eyes sparkled at the prospect. “We shall see, in time. But my word, this is going to take a bit of untangling.”
The thought of the tangles stimulated her, though. I had never seen her quite as excited as she was on that night.
“You won’t sleep, will you?” she went on. “No more will he. No more will I. In any case, it’s morning. They’ll see him riding back to the Schloss—some of them. ‘Oh,’ they’ll say. ‘His Highness has been out for the night!’ And they’ll laugh and nudge each other and they’ll say ‘Another Duke Maximilian Carl, he is.’ They won’t know, will they, that he was with his wife.”
I tried to speak calmly. “We must wait, and Maximilian will know what is the best thing to do.”
“Well,” she said, “it could be your secret, you know. You could live here, or in one of the castles, and he could call on you. Very romantic like. And no one need ever know that you were the true Duchess . . . because that’s what you’ll be soon. The old Duke is failing fast, believe me, and soon our Maxi will be in his shoes. And what of you then, eh? And what of Wilhelmina?”
“We shall have to see,” I told her. “Now I think I should try and sleep for an hour or two.”
She took the hint and left me. I did not sleep, of course. I lay awake thinking of the wonder of that night just passed and of the undecided future.
As soon as I was up Frau Graben was knocking at my door. Her hair was out of its curlers and was now crimped about her head; her rosy cheeks shone and she was as lively as ever.
“I didn’t think you’d sleep long,” she said with a chuckle. “I’ve got something for you. A message from him. My word, he is impatient. Always was when he really wanted something.” She handed me the note as though I were a child and she a benign nurse offering a special treat.
Eagerly I took it.
“Read it,” she said unnecessarily. I knew she had already.
My darling Lenchen,
I’ll be in the forest at eleven o’clock at the first copse
from Klocksburg by the stream. M.
It was like a command; but then, I supposed indulgently, he was accustomed to giving commands.
“You’ve got two hours,” beamed Frau Graben.
“What of the children’s lesson?”
Frau Graben flapped her hand at me. “Bah! The old pastor can take them through their history.” She laughed like a conspirator.
Not that I wanted to make excuses. The thought of seeing him again was an intoxicating one.
I dressed with care, realizing that this would be the first time he would see me in daylight for nine years; but the prospect of seeing him made me radiant.
I saddled my mare and rode out. I found him waiting at the appointed spot on a white horse and I was taken back all those years when he had loomed out of the mist.
I said: “You have changed very little.”
“You have grown more attractive,” he replied.
“Is that really true?”
“Experience has left its mark. You are more exciting. There is so much I want to discover. The young girl from the Damenstift was a promise . . . now that promise is fulfilled.”
He leaped from his horse and lifted me down from mine. We stood in a close embrace and I was so gloriously happy that I should have liked to hold that moment forever: the forest smells; the faint sound of the breeze as it moved in the trees; the distant lowing of cows and the tinkle of the bells about their necks.
“Never to part again,” he said.
“What is going to happen, Maximilian?”
“I don’t know . . . yet. There is so much to consider. I have been trying to work out a way, but last night I could think of nothing but our being together again.”
“That’s how it was with me.”
We tied up the horses, and arms entwined walked through the forest as we talked.
Here was the position: He had thought me dead; he had seen the charred remains of the lodge; he had listened to the account Ernst had given him and believed it. He had not cared after that what had happened but he had had an abhorrence for marriage with anyone else. His father had tried to persuade him, implore him and even threaten him with the loss of the dukedom unless he married. Klarenbock had been an antagonistic state and more powerful than Rochenstein. The marriage had been one of the clauses in a treaty, and a few years ag
o he had allowed himself to be drawn into it.
“That is the story, Lenchen. If only I had known . . .”
“And while I was in Oxford looking after Aunt Caroline, you were thinking of me, longing for me, as I was for you . . .”
“If I had come to England to look for you I should have found you as Graben did. I can’t forgive myself for not doing that.”
“But everything seemed so clear to you. You had always trusted Ernst and there was the burned-out lodge. And surely there was something I could have done. But it’s no use blaming ourselves, no use looking back. I can forget all that now.”
“We’ll put it behind us, Lenchen. It is what we have to do now that is important. My father is very feeble. Trouble with Klarenbock now would be fatal. I believe the French, too, are determined to make war on Prussia. If they did all the German states would be involved. They say that Napoleon III has the best army in Europe and he is determined on conquest.”
“Does that mean that if there was war you would have to fight . . .”
“I am the Commander-in-Chief of our army. Oh, Lenchen, I’ve frightened you. There may not be war. Let us hope not. But we must waste no more time. We have been apart too long. But I do believe the French are determined on war. You have seen our people. They are gay and pleasure loving; but we are not typical of our race. The Prussians under Bismarck have become a militant people. His slogan of ‘blood and iron’ speaks for itself. We shall defend ourselves if the French should attack us, and military opinion throughout Europe is that war is imminent. We have a treaty with the Prussians. It was to ratify this that I was so long in Berlin. But I will not bore you with politics.”
“They are your concern and therefore they must be mine.”
“Yes,” he said solemnly. “Now that we have found each other you will share my life. I shall bring my burdens to you. I will discuss affairs with you. But our task now is to make plans. We must. I long to have you with me, Lenchen, all the time, and openly. But I fear this is not the moment to let it be known. I almost told my father this morning but he was so ill, so feeble. He is overcome by the burdens of state. He is afraid of Napoleon. Only this morning he mentioned Klarenbock and said that since I had married Wilhelmina at least we need not expect trouble from that quarter. I fear, Lenchen, that my father cannot have long to live.”
I understood well the effect such an announcement would have on an aging man weighed down with responsibilities and for the time it was enough for me that I had found Maximilian.
I said: “Let us wait awhile. This is something which cannot be decided in a few minutes. But the Princess . . .”
“A marriage of convenience . . . that was no marriage.”
“How will she take this?”
“I am unsure. I have always been unsure with Wilhelmina. It was a marriage of convenience for her as for me. There is no doubt that when she learns that her marriage was no true marriage she will feel . . . degraded. There may well be trouble. We have to face that, Lenchen. We must give a lot of thought to how it should be done.”
“With as little heartbreak as possible to everyone concerned,” I agreed. I longed to be with him, to share his life completely, but I could not be entirely happy, I knew, and nor could he if, by making the truth known, it brought about the death of his ailing father and discredit to the Princess. I was conscious of a twinge of jealousy for that proud woman whom I had briefly glimpsed and who had been accepted as his wife. Proud, cold, and royal as she was, I could imagine what her feelings would be when she was confronted with the fact that she, a princess, was no true wife. Oh yes, indeed, we had to tread with the utmost care.
“For the moment,” decided Maximilian, “it is best for us to keep this secret. I shall come to Klocksburg tonight. I shall think of nothing but you and how best we can arrange our lives. I long for us to be together.”
“In the meantime,” I replied, “we shall have to be careful. It would never do for your father or the Princess to learn the truth through another source. You will visit me frequently. Promise.”
“I swear it and never did I more gladly swear any thing.”
“And we must act as we have been acting—as though things were as before.”
“Ah,” he said tenderly, “I can see what a help you will be to me, Lenchen.”
“It will be my mission in life . . . to care for you, to give you every comfort.”
“Ah, dearest, when I think of all those wasted years . . .”
“Don’t think of them. They are past. The future is before us. Perhaps they have not been entirely wasted. We have learned something from them. To be with you again, to have found you, I care for little beyond that.”
We clung together; we could not bear to separate. He wanted to ride back to Klocksburg with me, but I thought the children would see him and wonder why we were together. I pointed out to him that we had to be careful. The future was gloriously inviting, but to reach it we had to hurt other people. I wanted—and I knew Maximilian did too—to hurt them as little as possible.
So we said goodbye, with assurances that that night we should be together.
. . .
I turned toward Klocksburg. I didn’t want to leave the forest yet. I was considering our problem, trying to discover a solution when the sudden rustle of undergrowth startled me; the sound of a horse’s hoofs not far off was unmistakable. For the moment I thought he was coming back. But it was the Count who came through the trees.
“Miss Trant!” he cried. “I am charmed to meet you. But I do wonder why you have deserted your duties to ride through the forest at this hour of the morning.”
I replied: “The children are busy with the Pastor.”
“I hope their English is not suffering.”
“I think you will find great improvement if you care to question them in that language.”
“One thing, Miss Trant, you have great confidence in your own powers.”
“Confidence is necessary to succeed in teaching.”
“As in most things, I think you will agree.”
“I daresay you are right.”
“You are gracious this morning, Miss Trant.”
“I hope I am never ungracious.”
“Shall we say there is a little touch of asperity now and then?”
“I had not noticed it.”
“I did. Perhaps because I was the target. I wonder whether you served it to my cousin. I think not from what I observed. Oh yes, I did see you. You seem to have become well acquainted in a short time. Unless of course you knew each other previously.”
“Your cousin . . . ?” I murmured to gain time.
“His Royal Highness, the Prince. I have the honor to be his cousin.”
“Oh . . . congratulations.”
“Condolences would be more acceptable. Imagine if I had been the Duke’s son instead of that of his brother . . .”
“Why should I imagine it?”
“Then you could picture me in his position. Perhaps that would mean you would be as affable to me as to him.”
I wondered how much he had seen, from where he had been watching us; and I thought that there would always be people to watch the actions of a man in Maximilian’s position.
I said: “The Prince and I discovered that we had met some years ago. I was a pupil at one of the Damenstifts in his country.”
“And you came back to us. That is a compliment, Miss Trant, I am sure. You must have liked our country very much.”
“I find it very interesting.”
“I should like to show you my own castle. You must bring the children over to it one day. Better still you could come alone.”
“It is kind of you to suggest it.”
“But you think it unwise to come?”
“Did I say that?”
“You don’t have to speak always for me to know what you are implying. Your cool English manner does that very adequately.”
“I am sure you must find it extremely unattractive. So
I won’t burden you with my presence . . .”
“On the contrary I find it . . . interesting, and I assure you that if I found your company a burden I should not seek it.”
“Have you sought it?”
“But surely you know the answer to that?”
“I’m afraid I don’t, Herr Count.”
“I should like us to be better acquainted. I really don’t see why we shouldn’t be on such pleasant terms as you are with my cousin? We are very much alike. You must have noticed it.”
“There is a facial resemblance.”
“More than that. Some can’t tell our voices apart. We have the same arrogant manner, don’t you think? We have the same vices. He has always been a little more diplomatic than I. It’s rather necessary in his case. He suffers restrictions which don’t bother me. In some ways it is better to be the Duke’s nephew than his son.”
“I daresay you are right.”
He had brought his horse close to mine and caught my arm. “I have more freedom,” he said, “to do what I want.”
“I am sure you find that very gratifying. Now I must get back.”
“I’ll ride with you.”
I could not refuse to ride with him and we went back to Klocksburg.
“It will be a surprise for the children,” he said. “I’ll take them out. I want to see how they are progressing with their English. How is your special protégé?”
“What do you mean by my special one?”
“Now, Miss Trant, you are prevaricating. You know I refer to Master Fritz. Do you remember how concerned you were that he should not ride and how, because you pleaded so prettily, I gave way to your request.”
“I remember your realizing that the boy had a chill and was better at home.”
“I realized no such thing; and boys who are going to grow into strong men should not be coddled by devoted but misguided teachers of English. I agreed that he should stay behind because you asked it, and you must believe, Miss Trant, that I am very anxious to please you, although if my efforts were so misconstrued and quickly forgotten I might not consider it necessary to make them.”