The Judas kiss

The King of the Forest

Fortune favoured me.

In the early afternoon Freya came to me. She was pouting. The Graf and Grafin wanted her, Tatiana and Gunther to visit the Grand Duke.

"Well, what is so unpleasant about that?" I asked.

"I wanted to go for a ride with you."

"You can do that another time."

"I doubt whether we shall see him and we always have to stand on such ceremony. Oh, I wish I didn't have to go."

"It will all be over soon."

"I expect Sigmund will be there."

"Well, you will like to see him, I expect."

She grimaced.

I watched the party leave and immediately went to the stables. I had a free afternoon and within a short time was riding into the forest towards the lodge, and then on to the house I had discovered.

The woman was in the garden. I recognized her at once and called a good afternoon, asking her the way back to the town, which I knew very well.

She came to the palings and, leaning over, directed me.

I said, trying to hold her in conversation, "The forest is very beautiful."

She agreed.

"Is it lonely living here?" I asked.

"I don't notice it. I have plenty to do. I keep house for my brother."

"Just the two of you ..." I murmured and wondered if I sounded both inquisitive and impertinent.

"Just the two of us and our maid and my little son."

No mention of a husband, I noticed, and my mind was beset by possibilities.

"I came past the lodge," I continued. "It seemed deserted."

"Oh yes, it is nowadays."

She had a frank, open face and she was friendly. Perhaps she relished a chat as no doubt she saw few people.

"Are you visiting here?" she asked.

"Not exactly. I am employed at the schloss."

"Oh?" She expressed interest. "My brother works there ... for the Graf."

"I am there ... as an English governess to the Countess Freya."

She was not extremely interested. "Oh yes, I had heard that there was an English lady there. And you rode out and lost your way?"

"One can do that easily in the forest."

"Nowhere more easily. But you are not far away. If you go back by the lodge and keep to the bridle path you'll come to the lodge cottage, and there is a road. You'll see the town from there."

"I shall know where I am then. The lodge looks interesting but rather dismal."

"Oh yes, it is never used now."

"It seems a waste of what must have been a very fine old place."

"Oh yes... . They used it frequently in the past for hunting, you know. You should be careful walking in the forest. Although it is mostly deer, there is the occasional wild boar."

"I thought I saw a grave ... somewhere at the back of the lodge."

"Oh yes, there is a grave there."

"It seemed a strange place to find a grave. Why should someone be buried there and not in a churchyard?"

"Well, there was a reason, I think."

I waited but she did not seem as though she was going to continue, so I went on: "It seems well tended."

"Yes. I look after it. I don't Like to see it overgrown. I don't think graves should be. It looks as though no-one cares about the person buried there if they are."

"It was a friend of yours, then?"

"Yes," she said. "You must excuse me. I can hear my little boy. He's awakened from his nap. You'll have no difficulty in finding your way. Good-day to you."

I felt I had mishandled the situation. I had discovered nothing except that she had known Francine and had been a friend of hers.

I would call again though. I had at least opened up a path where there had appeared to be nothing.

As I came back through the town I passed the inn where I had once hired a horse, and I decided to sit awhile in the biergarten, so I left my horse in the stable and did so. I think I wanted to talk to someone, and the innkeeper's wife had been very friendly.

She remembered me, and when she brought my goblet of bier—a speciality of Bruxenstein—she told me so. She paused and it was not difficult to detain her.

I told her I was now working at the schloss.

"I heard the Countess had an English lady to help her speak the language," she said.

"I am she," I answered.

"Well, do you enjoy it?"

"Very much," I replied. "The Countess is charming."

"She is popular and so is the Baron. It wouldn't surprise me if they put forward the marriage. It depends, I suppose, on the Grand Duke. If he recovers his health things will go on just as before, I suppose."

I agreed and said I found the forest enchanting.

"Our forests are famous in legend and song," she answered. "They say all sorts of things can happen there. Trolls, goblins, giants and the gods of old ... some reckon they're still there ... and some people have the power to see them."

"It must be rather eerie living in the heart of it. I passed a place today."

"Was it the lodge?"

"Yes, I did see the lodge, but I was thinking of a house ... a small one in the forest ... near the lodge. I wondered who lives there."

"Oh, I know where you mean. That would be the Schwartzes' place."

"I did see someone there. I asked her the way."

"That must have been Katia."

"Has she a little boy?"

"Yes. Rudolph."

"Does her husband work for one of the schloss families?"

"There isn't a husband." On ... I see.

"Poor Katia. She had rather a bad time."

"That's sad. She seemed so very pleasant. I thought her charming, in fact."

"Yes she is. Life was cruel to her, though. But she has the boy and she dotes on him. He's a nice little fellow."

"I did notice a child. Would he be about four or five?"

"Yes, I suppose it must have been all those years ago. Rather a mystery really."

"Oh?"

"Well, who can say what happens in these cases. It seems a bit unlucky ... that part of the forest ... considering what happened at the lodge."

"You mean the murder?"

"Yes. That was terrible, that was. Some say it was jealousy, but I never believed that. It was someone who wanted Rudolph out of the way so that Sigmund could step into his shoes."

"You don't mean that Sigmund—"

"Oh—hush! I'd say it's all a mystery ... and long ago now. Best forgotten. They tell me Sigmund has the makings of a fine Duke. He's strong and that's what we want. Listen." She cocked her head on one side. "I expect they're coming this way."

"Who?"

"The Graf and the Grafin with Sigmund and the Countess. I heard they'd been visiting the Grand Duke this afternoon. Sigmund will be escorting them back to the schloss. I'll pop out and watch."

"May I come with you?"

"But of course."

I stood with her and others crowded in the inn doorway, and my heart leaped with pride and fear as I watched him.

He looked magnificent on his white horse, acknowledging the cheers of the people as he rode. And beside him was Freya, looking pink-cheeked, bright-eyed and very pretty. It was clear that the people liked her.

"Little duck," I heard someone say. "She's a charmer, isn't she?"

Then came the Graf and Grafin with Gunther and Tatiana. There were a few guards riding with them, colourful in blue and brown uniform with blue feathers in their silver helmets.

As I stood and watched, the hopelessness of my situation was borne home to me afresh, and I could see that there would be no real place for me in Sigmund's life. I would be his mistress, to be hidden away ... to wait for those days which he could spare for me. And if there were children— what of them?

How could I do this? I must go away.

Oh Francine, I thought, was it like this with you?

When I arrived in my room one of the footmen was standing at my door.

He said: "I have a note for you, Fraulein. I was told to deliver it into no other hands but yours."

"Thank you," I said, taking it.

He bowed and departed.

I knew before I opened it who had sent it. It was written on blue tinted paper with the crest of the lions and crossed swords which I had seen before.

"My dearest," he had written in English, and then:

I must see you. I want to talk to you. It is unendurable that you should be so near and yet away from me. I cannot wait for tomorrow. I want to see you tonight. There is an inn just below the schloss. It is called The King of the Forest. Come there. I shall be waiting. Please. I shall expect you at nine. You will have dined then and can slip away.

C.

The King of the Forest. I had seen it. It was very close to the schloss gates. Could I do it? I supposed so. I could plead a headache, retire early and slip out. It would be unwise. It would be as it had been at the Grange. I must not go. Yet I thought of his waiting there. He would be so wretched. People like Conrad and Freya were used to having everything their way. They would have to learn that it could not always be so. And yet... I wanted to go.

But I must not, I admonished myself. Yet it was not possible to get a message to him. How could I ask someone to take a note to Baron Sigmund!

No. I decided I must go, and I must make him realize that I could not see him any more. I must leave the schloss. Suppose I went back to Daisy. That was not far enough. He would seek me out there. No. I would go and see him and explain that we must not meet again.

I managed to get away quite easily. Freya was a little absentminded. She had enjoyed riding through the streets with Sigmund and she had obviously been gratified by the cheering crowds. When I said I should like to retire early because of a headache she just said, "Have a good night's sleep then, Anne. Perhaps I'll go early, too."

So I was able to slip out without much trouble.

He was looking out for me and before I reached the inn he had joined me. He was in a dark cloak and black hat like any travelling businessman, but although I had seen many men dressed exactly like that, nothing could prevent his looking distinguished.

He held my arm tightly and said: "I have engaged a room where we shall not be disturbed."

"I have come to tell you that I must go away," I said.

He did not answer, but pressed my arm more tightly to his side.

We went into the inn and up a back staircase. I thought, This is the way it will always be—always in the shadows. And suddenly I did not care. I loved him and I knew I should never be happy away from him. What was the old Spanish proverb? "Take what you want," said God. "Take it ... and pay for it."

It was a small room but the candlelight threw a pleasant glow over it, touching it with a romantic aura; but perhaps I felt that because I was here with him alone.

He pushed back the hood of my cloak and pulled the pins out of my hair and unruly as ever, it easily escaped.

"Pippa," he murmured, "at last. I have been thinking of you ... dreaming of you ... and now you are here."

"I must not stay," I began. "I just came to tell you—"

He smiled at me and took off my cloak.

"No," I said, trying to sound firm.

"But yes," he answered. "This is meant, you know. You can't escape it. Oh, Pippa, you have come back to me ... never to be parted again."

"I have to go," I insisted. "I should never have come. I thought you wanted to talk to me."

"I want everything," he replied.

"Listen," I went on. "We have to be sensible. It is different now. That other time I did not know who you were. I was carried away. I was quite innocent ... inexperienced. I had never had a lover. I thought we should be married and live ... as married people do. I was as guileless as that. It is all different now. This is wrong and I know it is."

"My darling, these conventions are made for the convenience of society—"

I interrupted: "That is not all. There is Freya. I have grown fond of her. What would she think if she saw us now? It is wrong—dreadfully wrong. And I must go."

"I shall not allow it."

"It is for me to decide."

"You can never be so cruel."

"I understand that I am still naive and that you must have been in many similar situations."

"I have never loved until now," he said. "Isn't that good enough?"

"Is it really true?"

"I swear it. Now and forever I love you—and you only."

"How can you know what you will feel in the future?"

"As soon as I saw you I knew. Didn't you?"

I hesitated and then I said: "Perhaps for me I knew it would be so, but for you it would be different. If I went away you would forget me."

"Never."

"There would be so many in your life to compensate for any loss you might feel because one woman rejected you."

"You won't understand. If it were just for myself, I would be ready to throw everything aside."

"All the shouting and the cheering. It means something to you. I watched you. I was on the porch of an inn when you rode by with Freya. I saw you. How you smiled. How you pleased the people, both of you, and I know how they pleased you. It is something you do very well because it means so much to you."

"I have been brought up to it in a way," he admitted. "But I never thought all this would come to me because of Rudolph. I was just a branch from the tree. If Rudolph had lived— But, my dearest, what of that? Let us make what we can of life."

"No. I must go. I shall return to England. I think it is the best way. I shall go to my Aunt Grace and try—"

He had thrown my cloak aside and his arms were about me.

"Pippa," he said, "I love you and the time is short—for now. But we are going to be together through the years."

"And your life ... and Freya's ... ?"

"I will work something out. Please, my darling ... let us be happy ... now."

My lips said no, but the rest of my body cried, Yes, yes. He was irresistible to me and he knew it and I knew it.

There is no excuse. I make none. We were just carried away by the force of our passion. Neither of us could think beyond the fact that we were alone together in this room.

And it was as it had been at the Grange. There was nothing else but our love and our need of each other. I could hold out no longer and I lay in his arms half tearful, half laughing, ecstatically happy and pushing away the cloud of guilt and apprehension which would eventually settle on me.

Then I was lying quietly with his arms about me and he was tracing his fingers over my face as a blind man does.

"I want to know every part of you so intimately that it is part of myself," he murmured. "I must carry the memory of you when I am not with you. I have already found a home for us. Not far from the town ... in the forest ... a delightful little house which we shall make our own."

I was brought to earth suddenly from the Olympian heights by a vision of the hunting lodge—dark, gloomy, haunted by ghosts.

"It is on the west side of the town," he went on. He meant that the town would be between us and the hunting lodge. "I will show it to you and we shall make it our home. I shall be there every possible moment. Pippa, I would to God it could be different."

"I will never do it," I said. "I cannot. I am filled with shame. Can you imagine what is like being with that child ... that dear innocent child. I have grown to love her... ."

"I am the one you love, remember?" he reminded me. "No-one must stand in the way of that."

"But I cannot stay with Freya ... after this."

"Then come to our home in the forest."

"I must think about it. I cannot decide. I cannot imagine what I could say to her. What would her feelings be? She will be your wife. I shall be your mistress."

"It is not like that," he said.

"How else can it be described? I don't think I can do it. Not with Freya. Even now I feel despicable. The other day when she was feeling particularly affectionate she kissed me ... and I returned her kiss. The horror swept over me. I was posing as her friend when all the time I was betraying her. I thought: This is the kiss of Judas. No. No, it would be better if I went home. I could go to my Aunt Grace, I could look round and make a new life ... perhaps somewhere well away from Greystone Manor."

"You are staying here. I shall not allow you to go."

"I am free. Remember that."

"No one is free when he or she loves. You are shackled too, my darling. For the rest of our lives we belong together. Accept that, and you will see that it is the only way."

"The only way is for me to leave."

"That is unacceptable to me—and to you. If I were but free to marry you I should be the happiest man alive."

"There is no way."

"Unless we discover a new heir. If only Rudolph had married... ."

"He did marry."

"Oh, the entry in the register. It wasn't there, was it? We searched. If only there had been proof of his marriage and there had been an heir. If we could bring forward that heir and say, 'Here is the new ruler of Bruxenstein' should the Grand Duke die."

"He would be only a child."

"Children grow up."

"What would happen? There would be a regency, I suppose."

"Something like that."

"And you would be the Regent?"

"I expect that is how it would happen. But I should be free. Kollenitz would not want an alliance with a Regent. I daresay they would want Freya to marry the heir."

"The difference in their ages would make that out of the question."

"They would not be greatly concerned with such matters. There have been more incongruous marriages for the sake of the state. Suppose she were some ten years older, that would not be considered a deterrent. After all, I am eight years older than Freya. But we are wasting time on suppositions which are wide of the mark. We have to accept what is. I shall have to go through with this ceremony with Freya. I shall have to get an heir. When that is done, so is my duty. But I am not letting you go, Pippa—never, never, never. If you ran away I should come after you. I would scour the whole of England—the whole of the world—and bring you back."

"Against my will?"

"Dear, dear Pippa, it would never be against your will. All your resolutions would crumble away when we were together. Haven't we proved that twice?"

"I am weak ... foolish ... immoral... I see that."

"You are gentle, loving and adorable."

"You have no right to tempt me."

"I have the right of true love."

"What a fool I am! I almost believe you."

"You are foolish not to believe me entirely."

"Is it really so, then?"

"You know."

"I believe I do. We are two people caught up in an unusual situation. I wonder if it has ever happened before."

"It happened to your own sister," he said. "Not exactly the same ... but Rudolph could not have married her."

"Why not?"

"Because he was destined for Freya."

"But he had never gone through that betrothal ceremony which was tantamount to marriage."

"It is true. But he knew he must not marry without the approval of the Grand Duke's ministers. Darling, forget it. Make the best of what we have. I promise you it will be a great deal."

"I must go now. It is late."

"Only if you promise that we will meet again soon. I want to show you the house we shall have. I want you to come here tomorrow night. Will you do that?"

"I cannot. How can I get away like this? It will be noticed. Freya will suspect."

"I shall be here tomorrow at the same time. Dearest Pippa, please come."

I put on my things and he came out with me almost to the castle gates. The guards looked at me oddly, and I wished I could still the wild, exultant happiness which enveloped me, swamping my fears.

I did not know how I was going to face Freya. If she talked about Sigmund I should be very much afraid that I would betray myself. She was observant and she knew me so well. She would surely guess something had happened.

Strangely enough there was a change in Freya since we had come to the schloss. She seemed to have become older, more withdrawn, obsessed with herself. Before, I believed she would have immediately noticed that my behaviour was a little unusual.

Fraulein Kratz had recognized the change in her.

"She is quite inattentive at her lessons," she complained. "I think coming here and seeing the Baron again and realizing what the future holds has turned her head."

"It is enough to turn anyone's head."

"She will not concentrate on anything for long and she is continually cancelling her lessons. It is very hard to exert one's authority. What do you think, Fraulein Ayres?"

"It is different in my case. It is not like a set lesson. We just talk English. We don't have to sit and study books, although I do like her to read in English."

"I suppose one must accept it."

"I should, Fraulein Kratz, and in any case it does give you a little free time."

She admitted this was so. The same thing applied to me— which, to my relief, I found that very afternoon.

I saw her briefly for the midday meal. She was dressed for riding and looked very pretty in a light navy habit which set off her fairness to perfection.

"I am going riding this afternoon, Anne," she said. "I daresay you will want to do the same or go into the town."

"Whatever you wish, of course."

"Oh no ... not that. I can't go with you. I have to go with Tatiana and Gunther."

My heart leaped with pleasure, for this would give me a little time to carry out a plan of my own.

"I hope you enjoy it," I said.

"I'm sorry you can't come with us."

"Of course I understand. Enjoy your ride."

She threw her arms round my neck. "Have a pleasant afternoon, dear Anne."

"I will amuse myself."

"And well talk a lot in English ... tomorrow or the next day."

I went to my room and put on my riding habit. It was early afternoon when I set out for the forest.

The plan had come to me when I had awakened that morning. I was going to see the woman who had tidied Francine's grave. I had the strong conviction that she knew something and if she did I must find out what it was. I had been very interested in the child. Why not? It was a wild supposition, but at least his name was Rudolph. Why should a boy of four be made to kneel at a stranger's grave? What if that little Rudolph was the child of whom Francine had written to me? If I could prove that Francine had been truly married, if I could find her child, then that little boy would be heir to the Duchy. He would come before Conrad. I saw now that when I had come to Bruxenstein to solve the riddle of my sister's life and death here, I might also have been finding a solution to my own problem.

Perhaps my imagination was working too strongly; perhaps I was looking for too much simplification. I could but try; and I was going to with all the ingenuity I possessed.

As I rode through the forest past Gisela's house to the hunting lodge I was thinking of the previous evening, of Conrad, the wild demanding passion that consumed us both and robbed us of all awareness of everything else. How could I, who had always considered myself to be a fairly honourable sort of person, allow myself to be carrying on this passionate affair with the affianced husband of my pupil? I could not understand myself. I seemed different from the Philippa Ewell I had known all my life. I only knew that I must be with him. I must give way; I wanted above everything else to please him, to be with him forever.

I tethered the horse in the usual spot and walked round the lodge, past the grave and towards Katia's house.

As I came into the thicker part of the forest just past the lodge, I heard the sound of a horse's hoofs. I stepped back from the rather narrow path and waited for the horse and rider to pass me.

It was a man and strangely enough he looked familiar to me.

He stared at me as he passed. He was walking the horse as he must along this bridle path. He inclined his head in a form of greeting and I responded. Then I passed on, wondering where I could possibly have seen him before. People came in and out of the schloss. Perhaps he was employed there.

In any case my mind was too full of other matters for me to waste my thoughts on a mere stranger. I came to the house. It looked quiet. Deliberately I opened the gate. I was on a porch in which potted plants grew. There was a knocker, so I knocked.

Silence and then the sound of footsteps. The door opened and Katia stood there. She stared at me in surprise, not immediately recognizing me as the woman who had asked the way.

I had rehearsed what I was going to say and I said it.

"I wonder if I can speak with you. There is something very important I have to ask you. Will you allow me to?" She looked bewildered and I went on, "Please ... it is very important to me."

She stepped back and opened the door wider. "I have seen you before," she said.

"Yes. The other day. I asked for directions."

She smiled. "Ah ... I remember now. Please come in."

I stepped inside the hall, noticing how clean and polished everything was. She opened a door and we entered a pleasant room, simply but comfortably furnished.

"Please sit down," she said.

I did so. "I realize this may seem very strange," I said.

"But I am very interested in the grave of the lady who was murdered with Baron Rudolph."

"Oh?" She was faintly alarmed. "Why ... why do you ask me?"

"Because you knew her well. You were fond of her. You look after the grave. You take the little boy there and you clearly respected her."

"I take my little boy with me because I could not leave him behind. He is sleeping now. It is the only time I have to do anything in the house."

"Please tell me about your friendship with the lady who was murdered."

"May I ask why you are interested?"

it was my turn to hesitate. Then I made a sudden decision, because I saw it was the only way in which I could hope to get the information I wanted so badly. I said, "I am her sister."

She was quite taken aback. She just stared at me in astonishment. I waited for her to speak, then she said, "Yes, I knew she had a sister ... Pippa. She spoke of her so—lovingly."

Those simple words touched me deeply and I felt my lips trembling and the words began to rush out, "You understand then. You know why I must—"

I saw at once that I should have discovered nothing of importance but for the fact that I had told her who I was, for the relationship between us had changed suddenly.

I went on: "I saw you tending the grave. I saw you and the little boy kneel together. I knew then that you had loved my sister. That was why I decided to talk to you."

"I did not really believe you had lost your way," she said. "I knew there was something."

"I believe my sister was truly married to Rudolph."

She lowered her eyes. "They said she was not. They said she was his mistress."

"Nevertheless there is proof somewhere... ."

She was silent.

"Tell me about her. She lived here in the lodge, didn't she? You must have been a near neighbour."

"It was her home. You see, she could not be received at the schloss. The Baron had his duties. He came when he could. He came often. They were very much in love and she was such a happy person. She laughed all the time. I never saw her sad. She accepted the position. I am sure the Baron Rudolph escaped to her whenever he could."

"Tell me how you knew her."

"My father was alive then. He and my brother were in the employment of the Graf von Bindorf, as most people are hereabouts, either with the Graf or in the household of the Grand Duke. My brother Herzog is still with the Graf. He goes on missions for him. He is not here very often."

"Yes," I prompted.

"A terrible thing happened to me. It was in the forest. I was young and innocent, you understand. It was terrible. Nobody could know unless it happened to them. There was a man. I think he had watched me for some time ... because I had sometimes fancied I was being followed. And then one day ... it was dusk ..." She paused and looked straight ahead, reliving the horror, I imagined. "He was one of the guards at the Grand Schloss. He caught me and dragged me through the trees and then ..."

"He raped you."

She nodded. "I was so frightened. I knew he was one of the guards ... I thought they would not believe me ... so I said nothing. It was like a nightmare and I thought it was over and I must forget ... But then ... I found I was to have a child."

"I am so sorry for you."

"It is over now. These things fade. I do not think of it so much now. It is talking of it brings it back. My father was a very religious man, you understand? When he knew, he was horrified, and ..." Her face puckered and I could see in her the poor defenceless girl she must have been at that time. "They didn't believe me," she went on. "They said I was a harlot, that I had brought shame on the family. They turned me out."

"And where did you go?"

"I did not know which way to turn and I went to her— your sister. She took me in. It was not just that ... it was everything she did for me. She believed me. Not only that, she said that even if it were true that I had agreed, it was not such a sin after all. But she believed me. She said she would have helped me in any case. So ... she did and my child was born in the hunting lodge."

My heart was beating wildly. "Did she have a child too ... at about the same time?"

"I don't know of a child," she said. "I never saw one there."

"It would be dangerous if she had had a child, wouldn't it?" I asked. "He would be the heir to the Duchy."

She shook her head. "There would have had to be a marriage."

"I believe there was a marriage."

"Everyone says there was not."

"Did my sister ever talk of marriage?" No.

"Did she say she was pregnant?"

"No."

"And your baby was born at the hunting lodge, you say."

"Yes. I was well looked after there. She saw to that. And when the baby came I stopped having nightmares. I couldn't be sorry for anything that brought him to me."

"And you loved my sister, did you?"

"Who would not love someone who had done everything ... who had saved me from such a terrible fate as that which could have overtaken me. I was half crazy with grief and fear. I thought I was damned as my father said I was. She laughed at all that. She made me see that I was not wicked. She helped me to bring a healthy child into the world. She saved us both. It is something I shall never forget."

"And ... because of all this ... you tend her grave."

She nodded. "I shall do so for as long as I live and I am at hand. I never forget, and I don't want Rudolph to either. I shall tell him the story when he is old enough."

"Thank you for telling me."

"What are you looking for here?"

"I want to find her child, because I believe there was a child."

She shook her head.

"There is something I have to tell you," I went on. "The Countess and those for whom I work do not know my true identity. I am here as Fraulein Ayres. You won't betray me?"

"I never would," she said, with a rush of feeling.

"I guessed you wouldn't, and I had to tell you because unless I did I knew that you would not tell me your secret."

She agreed that this was so.

I told her that because I had inherited money I was able to come here. I said again that I believed fervently that there had been a marriage between my sister and Rudolph and that there was a child.

"You have your son," I said. "You will understand how my sister felt about hers. I want to find him. I want to be able to take care of him. It will be compensation for losing her. Besides, if he does exist, how can I know what sort of life he is having? I owe it to her."

"I understand how you feel. If there was a child ... but..."

"I had letters from her telling me about him."

"She longed for a child, perhaps. I know she did. I remember her with my Rudi. Sometimes when people long for something they dream... ."

It was the old explanation. Not Francine, I thought. Fran-cine always had her mind firmly in reality. She had not been a dreamer. I had been that and yet I could not believe that in any circumstances I could have deluded myself into thinking I had a child, let alone writing letters about him.

I said: "I am very grateful to you and thank you for looking after my sister's grave. If you should want to talk to me —if you have anything to tell me—remember I am here as Fraulein Ayres."

She nodded.

I left the house then, not much wiser than when I had come, except that I had discovered the reason for her tending Francine's grave.

As I entered the schloss and was about to go up to my room I came face to face with Tatiana. She looked at me in the rather haughty way which was habitual with her and said: "Good-day, Fraulein."

I responded and was about to pass on my way when she went on: "The Countess is progressing well with her English, I believe."

"Very well indeed," I answered. "She is a good pupil." Tatiana regarded me with a certain interest and I grew uncomfortable under it and wished I were wearing my glasses. I knew my hair was escaping from under my riding hat.

"I think she is afraid that you are going to leave her. She has mentioned that you are a person of independent means."

"It is true I am not obliged to work for a living, but I very much enjoy my work with the Countess."

"So her fears are groundless and you will stay until her marriage?"

"That is looking rather far ahead."

"A year ... perhaps less. You know all the circumstances, of course. I believe you are very much in her confidence."

"We are as good friends as we can be, considering our positions."

She bowed her head, letting me know that she considered there was a big gap between our social positions.

Then she looked at me sharply and said, "It is strange, Fraulein Ayres, but I fancy I have met you before."

"Could that be possible, Countess?" I asked.

"Just, I think. I have been to England. I stayed in a house in the county of Kent."

"I know Kent well. It is in the southeast corner of England. I was there at some time. But it would be rather unusual if we had met and I am sure such an occasion would stand out in my mind."

I was alarmed that she might pursue the subject, but to my great relief she turned away to indicate that the conversation was at an end.

I went up to my room with a wildly beating heart. For a moment I thought she might have recognized me, but I was sure that if she had she would have questioned me more closely.

It must have been about an hour later when Freya returned. I was surprised because I had understood she had been with Tatiana and Gunther. She came into my room; she was flushed and smiling.

"We've been miles and miles," she said. "Gunther and I and two of the grooms lost the rest of the party."

"You weren't lost in the forest?"

"Not exactly. But we did go a long way."

"The Countess Tatiana was back a long time ago."

Freya smiled at me conspiratorially. "I don't much like Tatiana. I have an idea that she is always criticizing me.

She is very much aware of her position and thinks I'm a bit of a hoyden."

"Perhaps you are."

"Am I? Am I? Do you know, I don't mind in the least if I am. You rather like hoydens, don't you?"

"I like you, Freya," I said rather emotionally. "I like you very much."

Then she threw her arms round me and, remembering Conrad and all that had happened, I felt wretchedly ashamed.

Later that night I thought of his waiting at the King of the Forest. He would be frustrated and bitterly disappointed, I knew; but he would have to realize that he could not lightly continue with this deception, and even if it were easy for me to get away—and it was far from that—I must hesitate to do so.

It was very different considering all this in the quiet of my room—yes, very different from being swept off my feet by an overpowering passion which assailed my senses while it numbed my impulses of decency, while I fought in vain to resist. He must understand that when I could calmly assess the situation, I deplored it. I was ashamed to face Freya; ashamed to face myself.

I awoke that night and sat up in bed wondering why I was suddenly so wide awake. Then I knew. I had had a revelation. It must have come to me in my dreams.

The man whom I had met in the forest when I was visiting Katia Schwartz was the same one whom I had seen near Greystone Manor on several occasions. He was the man who had been staying at the inn and who, I thought, had been exploring our countryside. I had seen him on the way to the church near Dover when Miss Elton and I had gone there to look at the register.

That he should be here in Bruxenstein was a very odd coincidence.

I could not sleep. I lay there thinking of everything—my love passages with Conrad, my conversation with Katia Schwartz, the germ of suspicion I had seen in Tatiana's eyes ... and now the man in the forest.

The next morning a note was brought to me from Conrad. I thought it was very reckless of him to write to me in this way, for it was not inconceivable that the notes would be intercepted, but I had already learned that when he wanted something he would not let minor considerations stand in the way of forging ahead to get it. "My dearest," he wrote, and then:

You will be able to get away in the mid-morning. I am sending an envoy from the Grand Schloss with messages to the Graf and instructing that he must be entertained by them, including the Countess Freya. This will leave you free and the envoy will remain with them until the late afternoon.

Meanwhile I shall be waiting for you at our inn and from there we shall go into the forest, for I have something I wish to show you.

My love now and forever.

C.

I was both elated and alarmed, for I could see myself slipping farther and farther into an intrigue from which I should be unable to extricate myself and which could have the most dire consequences. So I was free because Conrad had the power to arrange it.

In due course I arrived at the inn. I wondered how many his disguise deceived. I should have known him at once; but then perhaps that was because I loved him.

We had some food in a private room and I had rarely felt so happy as I did sitting there with him, while every now and then his hand would touch mine across the table. There was a gentleness in him that day. He was protective. He was planning not just a hasty encounter but our future.

He was all eagerness for me to see the house which he planned should be our home, although I was protesting all the time that I could never agree to deceive Freya.

"Come and see it for yourself," he said. "It's rather delightful."

"However delightful, it could not influence my convictions that this is wrong and I should never be a party to it."

He smiled at me appealingly. "Let's pretend then—for a while."

We rode together out of the inn yard across the town. The sun was high in the sky and shone warmly down on us and I thought for a moment, I will pretend. I will have this day and carry the memory of it through the years to come.

As we rode through the town we had to pass through a square where some ceremony was in progress. It was delightful. The girls and women were in the national costume with full red skirts and white blouses with red flowers in their hair, and the men had white knee breeches with yellow stockings and white shirts; their caps were tightly fitting with long tassels that hung halfway down their backs.

They were dancing to the sound of a violin and we paused to watch it for a moment.

I thought how lovely it was there on that perfect sum­mer's day with the people's faces shining with pleasure and contentment while the young people burst into song.

Then suddenly a young girl approached us. She was carrying a little bunch of flowers which she presented to me. I took it and thanked her and then suddenly the people were crowding round us and singing what I recognize as the national anthem.

"Sigmund!" they shouted. "Sigmund and Freya!"

Conrad did not seem in the least perturbed. He smiled and spoke to them, telling them that he hoped they would enjoy the day and what pleasure it gave him to ride among them unceremoniously.

He had taken off his hat and was waving it to them. I wanted to turn and ride off as fast as I could. But Conrad was enjoying it. I knew that the approval of the people meant a great deal to him, and seeing him thus I realized how fitted he was for his destiny ... and how ill I fitted into it.

They crowded round us, and from one of the houses someone brought out several sheets which they knotted together and held across our path. They were laughing and cheering.

"Come," said Conrad, and he caught my horse and led me along with him. We rode up to the sheets and with a great sigh they were allowed to fall to the ground. We passed through the cheering crowds and rode on towards the forest.

"They liked you," said Conrad.

"They thought I was Freya."

"They were pleased to see us."

"They will know in time that I am not. In fact, I am surprised that they mistook me for her. They see her now and then."

"I think some of them knew. It couldn't be otherwise. Their first thought was Freya ... and then when they realized you were not Freya, they pretended that you were."

"Surely not. What would they think?"

"They will smile on us. They do not expect me to give up the society of all other ladies."

"Ah yes," I said slowly. "They will smile and shrug their shoulders ... as they did with Rudolph."

"Cheer up. It was an amusing incident."

"It seemed significant in a way. I can see clearly how well you fit your role."

"I have to accept it. I have to live with it. I have to see the country peaceful. There is no way out of that. The life you and I have together will have its drawbacks—I would not try to pretend otherwise—but we must be together. I refuse to consider anything else. We must take what the gods give us, Pippa ... and enjoy it. Because it will be wonderful. I can promise you that. Just to be together ... that is all I ask."

When he spoke like that I felt limp with pleasure. I was aware of my principles slipping farther and farther away and myself growing closer to my sensual desires which were, in fact, becoming a need. I loved him. Every time I saw him I loved him more. I tried to imagine life without him and I could not bear to look into a future so dismal that it sent me into the depths of depression; and to contemplate the life he was planning for us filled me with a wild exhilaration ... albeit apprehension.

I knew I was going to fall heavily into temptation. If it were not for Freya ... I kept thinking; and then the enormity of what I had done overwhelmed me and I then thought: I shall have to go away. I dare not continue with this.

How beautiful the forest was! When the trees thinned a little I could see the mountains in the distance. They were covered with spruce fir and in the valleys I could see little houses huddled together; I could smell the smoke rising from those places where the charcoal burners were, and I took deep breaths of the pure mountain air.

"You like this countryside," said Conrad.

"I find it delightful."

"Here will be our home. Oh Pippa, I am so happy to have you here. You cannot imagine how I suffered when I thought I had lost you. I cursed myself for all sorts of a fool for letting you go. Never again, Pippa. Never again."

I shook my head, but he laughed at me. He was sure of himself, so confident that life would work out the way he wanted it to.

We rode on and were going uphill.

"Listen," he said, "to the sound of the cowbells. You will hear them through the mist. You will love the mist. There is something romantically mysterious about it. I used to call it the blue mist when I was a boy. It seemed always blue to me. You climb high through the forests and you walk into the blue mist ... and then after a while suddenly you are in bright sunshine. I used to come here a great deal. This was one of our houses. Sometimes when it was hot in the town below we would ride up here and spend the day. Perhaps we would stay. We slept out of doors often. It's full of happy memories for me, but they will be nothing compared with what lies in store for us."

"Conrad ..." I began. "I can never call you Sigmund."

"Please don't. Sigmund suggests duty. Conrad is for those I love and who love me."

"Conrad," I went on, "have you always had what you wanted?"

He laughed. "Shall we say I've always made a good attempt to get it—and if you really make up your mind, what you want often comes to you. Dearest Pippa, cast off your fears. Be happy. We are here together. We are going to our home. It is a happy house and we'll make it entirely ours."

The house was enchanting. It was built like a miniature schloss with pepperpot-type towers at the four corners, and it was the size of an English manor house.

"Come," he said. "There is no one here. I arranged that we should be quite alone."

"Who would otherwise be here?" I asked.

"The family who look after it. They have a house close by. Father, mother, two sons and two daughters. It's an excellent arrangement. They provide the entire domestic needs. If we used it for a large party we sent on our servants to help."

"It's beautiful," I said.

"I knew you would like it. It's a favourite place of mine. That's why I thought of it. It is known as Marmorsaal—Marble Hall. You'll see why. It has a rather exquisite floor in the hall, which is the centre of the house really."

There was a gateway leading to the house, surrounded by low bushes. "We keep them low so that it is not too dark," said Conrad. "I don't like darkness, do you? Well, who does? There's something menacing about it. This is always a happy house—so we cut down the trees and planted those small flowering shrubs to look pretty and not shut out the light."

"There is an inscription on the gate," I pointed out.

"Yes, that was put there by one of my ancestors who lived here for a while. He was a ne'er-do-well... the bad boy of the family ... so they sent him off here to live in the forest. His great hobby was hunting the wild boar. He wanted to be alone and resisted all the efforts of the family to bring him back into the fold. He had this inscription put on the gate. Can you read it?"

"'Sie thun mir nichts, ich thue ihnen nichts.' Don't interfere with me and I won't interfere with you."

"An excellent sentiment, don't you agree? No one will interfere with us, I assure you. This is our home, Pippa."

He unlocked the door and picked me up in his arms.

"Is it the custom in England, too, to carry the bride over the threshold?"

"It is," I answered.

"Then here we are, my dear one. The two of us ... in our new home."

It was beautiful, I had to admit. The hall floor was covered in marble slabs of the most delicate shades of blue. I could not help exclaiming at their exquisite beauty.

Pictures hung on the walls; there was a large table in the centre on which stood a bowl of flowers.

He stood there holding me tightly.

"You like it?" he asked.

"It's quite magnificent."

"We are going to be happy here—that is the most important." And when he was there beside me I could believe it.

We explored the house. Everything was in perfect order. That would be on his instructions. I wondered what the people in the forest thought. They would guess that he was bringing a woman here ... his mistress ... and they would know that this was to be her home. They would smile and shrug their shoulders, as Conrad would say.

Should we go through life with people smiling and shrugging their shoulders? What of our children? What would happen to them? Perhaps already I was pregnant.

Oh yes, I had fallen a long way down the slippery slope and I was going to find it hard to climb back to the right way, the honourable way. And it was that. I only had to think of Freya's innocent face to know it.

Nevertheless I found myself exclaiming at the perfections of the house: the dining room with its long narrow windows and its beautifully embroidered chairs; that room which was meant to catch the sun like our solarium at home; the bedrooms which were not large by schloss standards but which were light and prettily furnished. From the windows there were views of the forest and the distant mountains. It was a beautiful house in a perfect setting.

"You like it?" he asked eagerly.

I could only say that it was quite lovely.

"And you'll be happy here?"

I could not answer that. I knew in my heart that I could not be completely happy—neither with him nor away from him—and I could not pretend.

"I will banish all your scruples. I will make you see this as the only way to live."

"One which has been followed by the barons and counts, grafs and margraves before you."

"It is the only way. We are fettered for life if we do not break free. You must understand that, Pippa."

"I wish ... but what is the use of wishing, though."

"Though what?"

"Here, I could imagine anything happening. It is the land of legend, of Grimm and the Pied Piper. There is magic in the air. I feel that in this forest ... anything could happen."

"We'll make our own magic. Come, be happy. Take what is given you. You love me, don't you?"

"With all my heart."

"What else matters?"

"So much, alas."

"Nothing that cannot be overcome."

"I could never overcome my shame at my disloyalty to Freya."

"But she is just a child. When she grows up she'll understand."

I shook my head. "I think that because I am the one, she might not."

"Forget her."

"Can you?"

"I think of nothing but you."

"You are such a practised lover. You say what I most want to hear."

"It will be the aim of my life to please you."

"Please ... please, don't..." I begged.

He held me tightly against him. He was in an unusual mood. It was almost as though he thought that our being in the house like this was sacred in some way. It was almost like a ceremony.

I said: "Is it just possible that you and I could be two ordinary people, that you could be relieved of your responsibilities, so that we could marry and bring up children, and live normal lives?"

"If Rudolph had not died it could have been like that. But he died too young ... without an heir."

I told him about my visit to Katia Schwartz and that I had let her know who I was. That did not alarm him in the least. He brushed aside possible danger.

"If only there had been a child and your sister and Rudolph had married ... well, then we could start thinking on different lines."

"Would you want to marry me?"

"I want it more than anything in the world. If I could marry you instead of Freya I would ask nothing else."

"I have always believed that my sister had a child."

"Even if she had it would be of no consequence, as far as the succession is concerned."

"If she and Rudolph had been married it would."

"But they were not."

I was about to say that I had seen the entry ... but he had seen with his own eyes that it was not there.

"That would make all the difference," I went on, "if they had married and we found there had been a child?"

"But of course. However much the marriage would have been disapproved of, it would still be a marriage."

A sudden wild hope was surging through me. It was the magic of the forest. It was the blue mist, the fir-clad mountains and the feeling that I was in an enchanted land where strange events took place.

So I gave myself up to the joy of being with Conrad in our new home. I had the strange conviction there that I was going to find what I needed.

When I arrived back at the schloss the envoy was still there. I was relieved. It gave me the chance to slip up to my room unnoticed. I was always afraid of seeing Freya immediately after my meeting with Conrad for I felt it might be obvious to her that something had happened to me.

I threw off my riding coat and sat on the bed, thinking over the past few hours, and my eyes strayed to my dressing table. It struck me suddenly that the little pot in which I kept my hairpins was not in its usual position. I looked at it without much interest and wondered when I had moved it. It was a trivial matter, but it did look a little strange as I had never before seen it out of place. I was lost in thought about Conrad—the mood I was usually in after having been with him, alternating between joy and fear. There were times when I gave myself up to dreams. I let myself imagine that Conrad and I were together and everything had turned out right for us. I pretended that I had found Francine's child and he was acclaimed the heir; Conrad was free and we married and lived happily ever after. Fancies ... wild dreams ... How could they ever come true?

I must change from my riding clothes. The envoy must surely be leaving soon and then Freya would come and tell me what sort of day she had had. She seemed to have grown up lately; I supposed that now she was getting closer to marriage, she was becoming interested in the politics of the country in which as Grand Duchess she would have a part to play.

I sometimes fancied that life excited her. Was she perhaps falling in love with Conrad? That would be the easiest thing imaginable for a romantic young girl.

I hung up my coat and took a dress from the cupboard. I took off the scarf I had been wearing and opened a drawer to put it away. I had several scarves which I always kept in the drawer with my gloves and handkerchiefs. It was strange, but the gloves which were usually kept below the handkerchiefs were on top.

Then I had no doubt that someone had been looking through the drawer. Why?

A cold horror had begun to creep over me. There was one drawer which had been locked and in which I kept the papers Cousin Arthur had helped me to get before I left England. They would reveal my true identity.

If someone had seen them I should be betrayed, for whoever found them would know that I was not Anne Ayres but Philippa Ewell—and they would remember that the young woman who had been murdered was Francine Ewell.

I searched frantically for the keys of the drawer. I had left them at the back of one of the other drawers behind some underclothes. They were not in their usual place. I unlocked the drawer and hastily searched. I found the papers but was sure they were not quite as I had left them.

Now I was almost certain that someone had been in my room, had looked for the papers and found them; and then had put the key back in the wrong place. In which case I was betrayed. Who would have done it?

My first thoughts were: Freya. I often felt she was suspicious of me. She had a mischievous way of regarding me. On more than one occasion she had said, "You are not what you seem!" and there had been a calculating look in her eyes.

Could it be that she had determined to find out and had gone through my drawers while she knew I was away?

I would soon find out.

If she had seen the papers, I should have to confess to her. I would tell her the whole story and I knew she would understand.

The thought that it was Freya was comforting in a way.

But of course it could be someone else.