The Judas kiss

The Discovery

There was to be a thanksgiving service in the cathedral in the centre of the town to celebrate the recovery of the Grand Duke.

Conrad was naturally very much involved with the arrangements and the Graf, the Grafin, Gunther and Tatiana stayed at the Grand Schloss for two days and nights to assist.

Freya and I were together during that time more than we had been lately and I was very wary of her, wondering all the time if she had seen the papers in my drawer. She gave no sign of having done so, which would have been strange with Freya. I should have thought she would have burst out the news of her discovery immediately.

She was a little quiet, it was true. However, I thought that was probably because her marriage was coming nearer.

We rode together into the forest. I avoided both the hunting lodge and the Marmorsaal; and she was in such a reflective mood that she allowed me to lead the way.

When we had ridden for a while we tied up our horses and stretched ourselves on the grass and talked.

"The forest is beautiful," I said. "Listen ... can you hear the cowbells a long way off?"

"No," said Freya firmly. "I am so glad the Grand Duke is better."

"Everyone is. In fact, it is going to be a matter for national rejoicing."

"If he hadn't lived, I should have been married by now."

"Does that alarm you?" I asked cautiously.

"I'd rather wait," she said.

"Of course."

"Why didn't you get married?"

"For one very good reason, that nobody asked me."

"I wonder why. You're quite attractive."

"Thank you."

"And you're not very old—yet."

"Every day I get a little nearer to senility."

"So do I. So does everybody. Even Tatiana ..."

"Why select Tatiana especially?"

"Because she thinks she is different from everyone else —like one of the goddesses."

"I know someone else who had similar ideas about herself."

"Oh, it was just the name with me. What's in a name?"

"'That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.'"

"Poetry again! Really, Anne, you can be the most irritating person. Talking poetry when I want to talk about marriage."

I picked a blade of grass and stared at it. I was afraid she would see the rising colour in my cheeks.

I said slowly: "Are you in love with ... Sigmund?"

She was silent. Then she said, "I think I am in love."

"Well, then you must be happy."

"I am. Yes I am. Do you think I am too young to marry?"

"Well, it won't be for some time yet, will it? In a year's time you'll be of a reasonable age."

"I was thinking about now. How do you know you're in love? Oh ... I forgot ... you wouldn't know. You've never been in love and no one's ever been in love with you."

I was silent.

Then I said, "I think one would know."

"Yes, I think so too."

"So ... are you?" I asked, and felt as though the entire forest was waiting with me for her answer.

"Yes," she said firmly. "I know I am."

Then she threw her arms around me and hugged me. She kissed me lightly. I put my lips against her forehead and even as I did so I thought: the Judas kiss.

I felt utterly depressed and wretched.

The thanksgiving service was to be held on the following Saturday. They were decorating the streets of the town and they had arranged pageants to halt the Grand Duke's progress through the streets, to assure him of their loyalty. There was no doubt that the people very much appreciated their Grand Duke.

Conrad, as the heir, would ride with the Grand Duke in the grand coach, and they would be followed by other members of the royal household and nobility in their own carriages. The army would be out in full force and it would be very impressive.

"I am riding with the Graf and the Grafin," Freya told me. "Tatiana is furious because she will be several carriages behind. Gunther doesn't mind. He doesn't care so much about such things. I don't think Tatiana likes me."

"Why shouldn't she?"

"Oh, she has her reasons."

"Well, do you know them?"

"The main one is she wants to be me. She would like to marry Sigmund and be the Grand Duchess."

"What makes you think so?"

"I just know. I keep my eyes open, you know, dear Anne."

She looked at me quizzically and for a moment I felt sure she had seen those papers.

"Tatiana is ambitious," she went on. "She hates being just the daughter of the Graf. She'll make a very grand marriage, you see. But Tatiana wants the most important one. That, of course, is Sigmund ... for she couldn't very well marry the Grand Duke, could she?"

"Hardly."

"So she wants Sigmund, but he is betrothed to me, so she hasn't a chance. Poor Tatiana."

"Do you think she is in love with ... Sigmund?"

I wished I could stop myself always pausing before I said his name.

"Tatiana is in love with one person—herself. It's not such a bad thing to be in love with yourself. You never get disappointed, do you? And you always make excuses for the loved one. It's the way to have a perfect love affair."

"Freya, you are quite absurd."

"I know. And you like me that way, don't you? Do you think my husband will?"

"I expect so."

"Anne ... has something happened to you?"

"What do you mean?" I asked in alarm.

"You seem different."

"In what way?"

"Well, in one way you seem to be looking over your shoulder as though you are expecting something awful to happen ... and another time you look as if something rather wonderful has happened. It's very disconcerting, you know. It must be one thing or the other. You should make up your mind."

"You're imagining it."

"Am I, Anne? Am I?"

"Of course," I said brusquely.

"Perhaps I am fanciful. I must be in love myself. That makes people a bit odd, I think."

"I daresay it does."

And again I was wondering whether she had seen those papers.

There was another letter from Conrad.

"Dearest," he wrote,

When this thanksgiving business is over, I want you to leave the schloss and come to our home. Make some excuse to Freya, but come. When you are there we will make all sorts of plans. I'm so longing to be with you. All my love now and always.

C.

As usual his letters filled me with delight and apprehension, but as I looked at the seal on this one I had a fancy that it had been broken and resealed before it had reached me.

I wondered if that was possible. Conrad was reckless, I knew that. He had become so accustomed to having his own way and expecting immediate obedience that it might not have occurred to him that he could have a disloyal servant.

If someone had read that letter before it reached me, they would understand at once the relationship between us. Could it be Freya?

No. She could never keep such a matter to herself. But her recent conversations had set me wondering. Why had she talked as she had about love and marriage? It was almost as though her observations were full of innuendoes, that there was some meaning behind her words. Yet, her affection for me did not seem to have abated. She had said she was in love. Then if she had read that letter she must be jealous of me. But she showed no sign of it.

It was disturbing to contemplate that the letter might have been intercepted. I tried to tell myself that I had imagined it because of my guilty conscience, but there was also the indication that my room had been searched.

One of the servants knocked on my door and when I told her to come in she took a letter from her pocket.

"This was given to me to hand to you," she said, "and I was told to give it to no-one else."

I immediately thought of Conrad, but surely he would not have given it to a serving girl. When I looked at the writing on the envelope I did not recognize it.

"A young woman gave it to me. She said you would understand."

"Thank you," I said.

I could scarcely wait for the maid to go before I opened the envelope.

"If you will come to the house," I read, "I will show you something which I think you will want to see. Katia Schwartz."

I was tremendously excited, and I determined to go to the house in the forest as soon as I could.

It was not easy. Freya would demand to know where I was going and want to come with me. I could see nothing for it but to wait for the day of thanksgiving. I should be expected to be there, of course, but I could make some excuse to get away.

Freya told me that I was to ride in the carriage with Fraulein Kratz and perhaps two others.

"Dear Anne," she said, "I am sorry you have to ride with the governess."

"Why be sorry? It's my place."

"But you know you are ... different."

"On the contrary, I am here as the English governess and it is only right and proper that I should be treated as such."

"I spoke to the Grafin about it."

"You shouldn't have done that."

"I shall speak how and when I like."

"I know that, but it was unwise."

"Tatiana was quite angry. She said you were a governess and your place was in the carriage with Fraulein Kratz."

"She was quite right."

"She was not. You are my friend. I keep telling them that."

"Freya, you must remember your position."

"I do. That is why I let them know when I don't approve of something."

"I shall be perfectly all right in the governesses' carriage. It's very kind of them to let us have a carriage in any case."

"Now you are being humble. I always suspect you when you are like that."

"Suspect me of what?"

She narrowed her eyes. "All sorts of things," she said.

"What shall you wear for the service?" I asked.

"Something bright and beautiful. After all, it is a time for rejoicing, isn't it?"

"It certainly is."

The day came. It was warm and the air seemed filled with the scent of pines. It was always like that when the wind blew in a certain direction. I had grown to love it.

What a great occasion it was—and one of those when I realized more poignantly than ever the great gulf between myself and Conrad. What if I succumbed to his wishes? There would be many occasions when he would be attending some ceremony. And I? Where should I be? One of the crowd, I supposed. Or perhaps not present at all. That was not important really. I loved him enough to want to make his life as comfortable as possible, and if that meant taking an obscure role I did not mind that. And yet I found it sordid in a way, unacceptable. ... I was still hovering between my need of him and something within me which was warning me to get away while there was still time, before I became inextricably enmeshed.

The Grand Duke looked remarkably well, considering the danger he had passed through. He acknowledged the cheers of the crowd with a kind of benign tolerance. Conrad was beside him in the carriage, looking magnificent in the uniform of a general of the army—two shades of blue with touches of silver and a silver helmet in which waved a blue feather.

Freya rode immediately behind with the Graf and Grafin and the ambassadors of Kollenitz. She looked very young and appealing, I thought. The people cheered her and I was touched by her obvious delight in their displays of affection.

Children in national costume presented her with flowers and sang hymns of patriotic fervour while banners waved across the streets which were crowded with spectators.

Then we entered the cathedral and the service of thanksgiving began.

I was seated at the back with Fraulein Kratz and as I listened to the singing and the prayers and the sermon of thanksgiving delivered by one of the highest dignitaries of the church, the incongruity of my situation was borne home to me. Thus it must have been with Francine. When had she realized that it would be impossible for her to lead a normal happy married life with Rudolph? Had she ever attended ceremonies like this?

Fraulein Kratz was singing fervently beside me. "Eine feste Burg ist unset Gott." I noticed there were tears in her eyes.

As for myself, I felt a great desire to get away. Here I believed I could survey the future clearly, and it seemed to me that I could only be an encumberance to Conrad. Our meetings would be surreptitious—"hole and corner" as Daisy would describe it. I must go back to England. I must slip away and hide myself. I could go to Aunt Grace and stay with her for a while. From there I could make plans, start a new life.

I wanted to get away, to be alone, to strengthen my resolve. If I were going to do what I saw now as my real duty I must not see Conrad again, for he unnerved me, he robbed me of my will power; he refused to look the truth in the face and tried to make life fit in with his desires.

The service was over. Freya and the royal party would now go back to the Grand Schloss where there would be more celebrations; and Fraulein Kratz and I could go back to the Graf's schloss.

It occurred to me then that now that the Grand Duke was well, Freya would not much longer be the Graf's guest. She would go back to the Grand Schloss to await her marriage, and naturally I should go with her. I tried to imagine what it would be like, living under the same roof as Conrad, and I could see that we were, with every passing day, heading towards a climax.

It was four o'clock when we arrived at the schloss. I changed into my riding habit and without delay set out for the forest.

Katia was expecting me. She said, "My brother is at the celebrations. He has a high position in the Graf's employ. I thought you would come as soon as you could conveniently do so."

"Thank you. I have been all eagerness since I received your note."

"Come in. I will not keep you long in suspense."

I was taken into the room where I had been before. She left me for a few moments and when she came back she was holding what looked like a sheet of paper in her hands.

She stood looking at me with a strange expression on her face and she seemed reluctant to hand it to me, although I knew this was that which she had to show me.

She said, almost hesitantly: "You are her sister. You were frank with me. You could be in a very dangerous position ... yet you told me the truth. I felt, therefore, that I could not withhold this from you."

"What is it?" I asked, and she put it into my hand.

As I looked at it I felt the blood rush into my face. My hands were shaking. It was there ... as plainly as I had seen it before ... the signature, the proof of the marriage.

"But ..." I stammered.

"The sheet had been removed ... very carefully. My brother arranged it and brought it back here."

"I knew I had seen it. I—I can't think clearly just now. This—this makes a lot of difference ... It proves ..."

She nodded. "It proves there was a marriage. I did not think there had been—until I saw that. She always called him her husband, but I thought that was just because she regarded him as such. But he was ... you see. And I thought I owed it to her. That's why I am showing this to you."

I said slowly: "It explains so much. I had seen it ... and then it disappeared. Sometimes I thought I was not quite sane. What do you know about it?"

"I know that my brother brought it back from England."

"Your brother—of course! He was the man I had seen. He had been following me ... and after I had seen the entry he removed it. I ... I don't know how to thank you. You can't realize what you have done for me. For so long I have wondered about myself even. Why—why should he have removed this entry?"

"Because someone was anxious to deny there was a marriage."

"You mean ... the Graf?"

"Not necessarily. My brother is a spy. He could be working for several people."

I was silent. Someone who was eager to deny the marriage. Who? If they were dead, could it matter? There was only one reason why it could. That was because there must be a child.

I said firmly, "There is a child somewhere. He is the heir to the dukedom, because this proves without doubt that Rudolph and my sister were married."

Dazzling possibilities had come into my mind. I would find that child ... love him as Francine would have wished me to. I could go to Conrad and say, "What we have longed for has come to pass. You are free. If we can find this child ... If he still lives, you are no longer the heir. You can disentangle yourself from your commitment with Freya." This was like a dream come true.

I could not stop staring at the paper in my hand. It was like a talisman—the key to my future.

But the child. I must find the child.

She was looking at me intently. Then she shook her head. "I just thought you should know she was actually married. We can go no farther than that."

There was a slightly fanatical look in her eyes and I had the impression that she did not want me to look for the child.

She said: "I took a great risk in giving you that paper. My brother ... and others ... would kill me if it were known."

"He will know it is gone."

"No. He thinks it was stolen when he brought it back."

"How was that?"

"He came back from England to this house. It was in a case of his—a flat leather case which he carried around with him when he went abroad. He arrived home exhausted after a difficult journey. I admit I was inquisitive. I wanted to know the nature of his business because I guessed it was not just an ordinary mission for the Graf, who sent him all over the world quite frequently. I looked at his case and saw the paper. I knew what it was and that it concerned the friend who had been so good to me."

"Did you take it?"

"Oh no ... not then. He had to go into the town to the schloss the next day, but before he did so it was necessary to take his horse to the blacksmith to be shod. While he was away I staged a robbery. I took the paper and a few other things as well, so that he should not think that someone had broken in to get just that. I damaged the lock on the door and disturbed the place. Then I buried the leather case under the inscription on your sister's grave. I gave him time to get back before I returned, so that he should be the one to find the place in disorder. He was almost demented. He said he would be ruined. He raged against me and said I should not have left the house unattended, to which I replied, how should I know how important documents were. He never told me. He did not speak to me for days after that... but it passed, and I still keep house for him. Some of the things I took are still buried round the grave. I took out the paper though after I had met you and you told me who you were. I thought I should give it to you."

"You have been very clever. It is one of the two things I came to prove."

"There is no child," she said firmly. "But there is the proof of the marriage."

"My search has brought me so far," I said. "It will carry me on."

"Well, you know now. I feel a great relief. I owed it to her. That was how I saw it. She had been so good to me.

No one was ever kinder ... and in my time of need. I had to do that for her."

"I am so grateful to you. Listen! Is that your little boy calling?"

She nodded and smiled. "Yes. He has awakened."

"Go and get him," I said. "I love children and he is such a bonny little fellow."

She looked pleased and went out; in a short time she returned with the child. He was sleepy, rubbing his eyes with one hand and in the other carrying a toy.

I said, "Hello, Rudi."

"Hello," he answered.

"I have come to see your mother ... and now you too."

He looked at me steadily.

"What's this you're carrying?" I asked, touching the limp-looking toy in his hand.

"It's my troll," he said.

"Oh, is that what it is?"

I noticed that one ear was soggy. I touched it gently, and Katia laughed. "Oh, he's a baby sometimes, aren't you, Rudi? He's had that troll ever since he was a baby. He won't go to bed without it."

"My troll," said Rudi with a kind of contemptuous affection.

"He still sucks his right ear. It was his comforter as a baby and I suppose it still is."

I felt as if the room was spinning round me. Words danced before my eyes. What had Francine said? "He has a troll which he takes to bed with him." Didn't he find great comfort in sucking its ear?

I reached out and touched the child. I said, "My sister's son was called Rudolph ... like this little one. She wrote to me about him ... so lovingly. He, too, had a troll which he took to bed and found great comfort in sucking its ear."

She had moved a step away from me.

"So many children have them," she said sharply. "They always have something to suck ... a toy ... or a piece of blanket. It's natural. It's what they all do."

She was holding the boy tightly and regarding me with something like suspicion. I thought then: I believe he is the child. He is about the age. He has the name and the troll.

There was nothing I could do about it... now. So I said, "I suppose I should be riding back," and the atmosphere relaxed immediately.

I must find out, I was thinking. I must ask Conrad what we should do. We will work together in this. And if it really is so ... could everything come right for us?

I touched her arm gently and smiled at her gratefully. "You cannot know what you have done for me," I said.

I had folded the paper and tucked it into the neck of my dress. It was not going to leave that spot until I had shown it to Conrad.

Then I took my farewells and with many thanks rode off into the forest. Katia stood at the door until I was out of sight, the sleepy boy held tightly in her arms.

I spent the rest of the night in a fever of impatience. I studied the sheet from the register again and again. I went over it in my mind—that first time I had seen it when Miss Elton and I had stood in the vestry together. I pieced all the evidence together and a clear picture began to emerge. The man who had followed me and watched from the graveyard had been Katia's brother, and he was there to destroy the proof of that marriage. I wondered a great deal about the churchwarden who had denied ever seeing me before. Of course he had been bribed. Katia's brother would have been able to offer him a sum of money which would have seemed enormous to him, just to deny he had shown me the register. I could imagine how he must have been tempted, and looking back I realized now that he had been a little too glib, a little too certain. I should have pursued the matter, tried to trap him, but I had been so shocked that I had been easily brushed aside.

And now here was the evidence in my hand.

I wondered how I could get to see Conrad immediately. I even thought of riding over to the Grand Schloss but I dismissed that idea almost as soon as it came, for I could not possibly do that without arousing the curiosity of many people. No, I must be patient and await my opportunity.

The next day passed. I guessed he was busy with the foreign visitors who had come for the thanksgiving ceremony, but I did receive a note in the afternoon. He wanted me to meet him at the inn.

I slipped away, not caring very much if I was missed. I had seen little of Freya all day. I believed she had been with Tatiana and Gunther, but as I rode out of the inn I saw Tatiana near the stables, so I presumed they had returned.

Conrad was waiting for me in the dark clothes he wore for these clandestine occasions. He caught me and held me in an embrace even more passionate than before.

"I had to see you," he said. "We'll go to the room here."

"I have something to show you," I told him.

We went up the back stairs and when we were alone he kissed me in the familiar demanding way.

"I have made a great discovery," I said. "It can change everything for us." I drew the paper from my bodice. He stared at it, then at me.

"This is it," I cried triumphantly. "The missing sheet from the register. I did see it after all. Then, before I could show it to you, someone removed it."

He was amazed. He said: "But the churchwarden ..."

"He was lying. Obviously he had been bribed to lie, by the man who took it. It is all so very clear to me now."

"Who?"

"I can even tell you that. It was Katia's brother."

"Katia ... ?"

"Katia Schwartz. She lives in the forest near the hunting lodge. She knew my sister. I discovered her when I saw that my sister's grave had been looked after. I trusted her and told her who I was, and she gave me this."

"It's incredible," he said.

"No, perfectly credible. Herzog Schwartz was spying for someone whose interest it was to remove that sheet."

He was looking at me oddly. "Who?" he said.

"I don't know."

"Pippa, you don't think I ordered it to be done?"

"You!"

"Well, if you are looking for a motive, who stands to gain most?"

"Conrad ... you didn't ..."

"Of course not."

"Then who could?"

"That is what we must find out."

"There is only one reason why it should be necessary to do it," I said.

He nodded. "If there was a child ..."

I cried: "There must be a child. Why otherwise should Francine have told me that there was? Why otherwise should it have been necessary to remove that sheet from the register?"

He was silent. I could see that he was stunned.

I went on: "If we could find the child ..."

"He would be the heir to the dukedom," he murmured very quietly.

"And you would be free, Conrad, to make your own life."

"If that child exists ..."

"He does exist. He must. Someone wants to hide the evidence of the marriage. He must be here ... somewhere near, perhaps. I am sure he is Francine's son and the true heir to the dukedom."

"We'll find him."

"And then?"

He took my face in his hands and kissed me. "You and I will have the freedom we want."

"And Freya?"

"She will probably have to wait until the boy grows up. How old would he be?"

"About four years old."

"A long time for Freya to wait."

"And you would be free, Conrad. But ... Freya would be hurt."

"It would be no slight to her. It is merely that the positions of power would be changed. If we can find that boy, I shall be free to act as I wish."

"I think I have found the boy."

"What!"

"His foster mother will not want to give him up and I am sure she will lie about his origins. But I feel certain of it."

"What have you discovered?"

"It is Katia Schwartz. Poor woman. She gave me the paper out of gratitude to Francine. It will be hard if through doing so she will lose the child."

"You have seen the child?"

"Yes. He is the right age, fair-haired, blue eyes and his name is Rudolph, which I know my sister's baby was called. She wrote to me about him and this is rather vital, I think. He had a toy—a troll, she told me in her letter—and he sucked one of its ears for comfort. When I was at the Schwartz home I saw the child; he had a troll and it came out that he sucked one of its ears for comfort and had been doing so since he was one year old."

"I will have everything checked concerning the woman. I will find out every detail concerning the child."

"If this could be proved true ..." I whispered.

He said with a little laugh, "I believe you are a witch. You come here in disguise ... you discover secrets that have baffled everyone else. You enchant me. What are you, Pippa?"

"I hope I am the one you love. That is all I want to be."

Then we talked of how we would proceed and what we would do if we could prove that the child in the forest was indeed the heir to the dukedom.

"I should have to be here until he was of age," said Conrad. "It would be my duty to hold the dukedom for him and to help teach him how to govern. We should have to spend long periods in the Grand Schloss but our home could be Marmorsaal. Oh, Pippa ... Pippa ... can you imagine that!"

I could and I did.

He said, "I will set everything in motion tomorrow. It should not take long. Katia Schwartz will have to prove that the child she has with her is her own. If we get the answers we want, then we shall let it be known that Rudolph was lawfully married and had a son. That will be the best possible news."

It was about two hours later when I left the inn. As we were about to go Conrad said to me, "I didn't want to tell you before—I thought it would spoil our time together—but in two or three days I have to go away. It will only be for a week or so. I have to return with our guests from Sholstein. There are certain treaties I have to work out with them. When I come back, whatever happens, I want you to come to the Marmorsaal. No more dallying. Unless of course we find our heir, then we shall have a wedding. Instead of living together in respectable sin, we shall be together in openly virtuous convention ... all that every subject in this dukedom could wish."

I could see that he took the matter more lightheartedly than I did and I was faintly disturbed. Would he regret just a little giving up that supreme power? Did it mean more to him than a regular union with me?

I thought he was the sort of man who could have been completely happy as long as I was there. My uneasiness increased. If an outsider had come in and been asked whose interest would be best served by hiding the marriage of Francine and Rudolph and the existence of their child, his answer would surely be Conrad's.

I shook myself free of such feelings, and reminded myself that he had been as eager as I was to find the child. He had kept the sheet from the register and said he would put it under lock and key, for it was unsafe for me to carry it around.

That had seemed the right thing to do when he said it. But I wished I could throw off my doubts.

It was two days before I saw him again, and he would be leaving the day after that. He came to the Graf's schloss unexpectedly when neither the Graf nor the Grafin was at home. Freya was riding with Gunther and a party. I think Tatiana was with them.

When I saw Conrad arriving my heart leaped. There was a great fluttering below because there was no-one to receive him. I heard him in the hall, putting them all at their ease with that affable manner of his which earned him so much popularity.

"Leave me," I heard him say. "I will amuse myself until the Graf returns." I had started to come down the stairs and he saw me. "Ah," he cried, "here is the English governess. Perhaps she will entertain me for half an hour. It will be good practice for my English."

I approached him and bowed. He took my hand and kissed it, after the custom.

"Let us go somewhere where we can chat, Fraulein ...

"Ayres, my lord Baron," I said.

"Oh yes, Fraulein Ayres."

I led the way into the small room which opened from the hall. He shut the door and laughed at me.

"For the life of me I couldn't remember your name. Darling Pippa I know well ... but Fraulein Ayres—she is a stranger to me."

Then I was in his arms.

"It is unsafe here. ..." I said.

"Soon we shall be free of such restrictions."

"Have you found anything about the child?"

He shook his head dolefully. "There is no doubt that the boy you saw was the son of Katia Schwartz. She was raped in the forest, so we do not know the father's name. The midwife who attended her has been questioned. She tended the birth of the child and looked after Katia afterwards. The boy was healthy, named Rudolph and several people will testify that he has been living with his mother ever since."

"But the fact that she knew my sister ... that I found the troll..."

"She knew your sister, yes. That has never been denied. The troll is a common child's toy. Children all over the country have them ... and I am told it is a custom for them to keep them and even suck their ears and toes. No, it is clear that Katia Schwartz's boy is her own."

"He must be somewhere else then."

"If he exists, we'll find him."

"How?"

"I can have discreet enquiries made. Depend upon it, if that boy exists we shall find him, for without him the sheet from the register is of no consequence."

"It is to me, even if we cannot find the boy, for it proves that my sister was telling the truth. It proves that she was not Rudolph's mistress but his wife. And if she was telling the truth when she wrote of the marriage, it follows that she was when she wrote of the boy."

"We'll find him."

We sprang apart suddenly, for the door had opened. Tatiana was standing there.

"I heard that you were here, Baron," she said. She was in her riding habit and had clearly just come in. "You must forgive us. It was most remiss of us not to be here when you called. What are you thinking of us?"

Conrad had stepped forward, taken her hand and kissed it as a short while ago he had kissed mine.

"My dear Countess," he said, "I beg of you do not ask my pardon. It is I who should ask yours for calling at such an inopportune time."

"The schloss is always at your disposal," she said. She was flushed and looking rather pretty. "It is unforgivable that there should be no one here to receive you."

"Fraulein Ayres has been doing the honours of the household." He turned to smile at me and I wondered whether Tatiana would notice the somewhat mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"It was good of you, Fraulein," said Tatiana. "I dare say you have a great deal to do."

I knew what she meant. Dismissal. I bowed and went to the door.

"I sought the opportunity to improve my English," said Conrad.

"It is always so useful," murmured Tatiana.

As I went out I caught a glimpse of Conrad smiling at her.

I felt angry—ridiculously so. I seemed to forget that I was, after all, only the English governess.

I went up to my room. My euphoria of the last days had evaporated. The enquiries had come to nothing and Tatiana had made me realize how invidious was my position here.

It must have been an hour later when I saw him leave. I looked out of my window. Tatiana was with him. They walked together to the stables and seemed to be engaged in very amusing conversation.

I did not have an opportunity of seeing him again before he left for his week's trip. There was obviously no news or he would have found a way of telling me.

There was, however, a letter delivered to me on the day of his departure. It was the usual tender note, telling me that he was longing to be back with me and when he did return I must be with him. The Marmorsaal was waiting and there must be no further delay. He was having enquiries pursued in what he called Our Little Matter, and if anything came to light he would let me know at once.

A day passed and then another. Freya was absentminded. She was extremely lively at one moment and the next seemed to be plunged in perplexity. I wondered how I could ever tell her about myself and Conrad. The more I tried to reason with myself, the more despicable my situation seemed. How could I say, "I am in love with your future husband. We are already lovers and plan to continue so, even after your marriage."

I should never have believed that I could have fallen into such a situation. I wished that there were someone in whom I could confide. I had been to see Daisy now and then and I was always made welcome and enjoyed playing with little Hans.

The day after Conrad left I did confide in her to a certain extent, because I felt that Daisy was the sort of person who had a natural gift for picking up information and for fitting it together to make the picture complete. She liked to hear snippets of gossip about the reigning family and although she was not on the spot, she did know what the people in the streets were saying, and it seemed a fact that all sorts of information seeped out to them and that they sometimes had a clearer picture than those of us who lived more closely to events.

So I found comfort in talking to Daisy. I had not told her about the recovery of the sheet from the register. I felt it was too dangerous to tell even her, but I did mention that I had met Katia, who looked after Francine's grave.

"That was a tragedy what turned out to have a happy ending," commented Daisy. "Poor girl ... raped in the woods ... and then blamed by that old father of hers. Really, some of these men want teaching a lesson or two."

"Did you know her, Daisy?"

"I've seen her once or twice at Gisela's. But people did hear about her."

"One would have thought she might have lost the child after such an experience."

"Well, the child saved her sanity, they say. When she got him, she changed. It was like it was all worthwhile ... to get him. She's been a devoted mother ever since."

Hans showed me his toys, among them a troll similar to the one I had seen with Rudi.

I asked him about it.

"My trolly," he said.

"Do you take him to bed with you every night?" I asked.

He shook his head. He was a bad troll, he told me. He had to sleep by himself in a dark cupboard. He took his dog to bed ... if he was good.

Daisy surveyed him with wonder. Her little Hansie! She could understand how Katia felt about her Rudi.

"Little 'uns," she said, "I dunno. They plague you a bit, mind you. Into everything, that's our Hansie. But we wouldn't be without him for the world. Hans says so too. Well, after all, Hansie was the reason he made an honest woman of me. Talking of weddings, I reckon before the year's out we'll be having the wedding of the year. Things'll change for you then, Miss Pip."

"Yes, they will. I shall have to have made my decision by then."

"That's a fact you will. I hope you don't leave us. We've got used to having you around. I like to think of you up at the slosh. Hans says they think such a lot of you there. Well, Miss Freya does. I reckon she'll stay with the Graf and the Grafin until the wedding. It don't seem right she should be under the same roof with her husband to be—even such a roof. Goodness knows there's enough of it! I wonder when that marriage will take place. There's talk, you know. They say Sigmund's got his eyes on someone else."

I felt myself flushing and I looked down and picked up one of Hansie's toys. "Oh ... ?" I said faintly.

"Well, Freya's not much more than a child, is she? What can you expect?"

"Did you ... say ... there was talk in the town?"

"Oh yes. Quite a bit of it. Well, he sees a lot of her and human nature being what it is—"

"Tell me what they are saying, Daisy?"

"Well, it's the Countess Tatiana. It seems he sees a good deal of her. People have seen them together. Very friendly. If it wasn't for this contract he's got with Countess Freya ... You see what I mean."

"Yes," I said quietly. "I do."

"Whether there's anything in it is another matter. I reckon the wedding will go through all right. It has to. Politics and all that. We don't want no trouble about a thing like that. Sigmund would be the first to see it. I reckon whatever he feels about Tatiana, it will be Freya he marries. You seem very absorbed in that rabbit of Hansie's."

"It's pretty," I said.

"I think it's an ugly little beast. No accounting for tastes, as the saying goes. Hansie likes it, though."

I took my leave soon after that. I felt bewildered and deeply disturbed.

When I returned to the schloss Freya was not there. It occurred to me that during the last few days I had been so concerned with my own affairs that I had thought very little of her. Fraulein Kratz, however, felt the same. I told her that we must remember that Freya was now growing away from the schoolroom and we must expect her to evade her lessons now and then.

"It is certainly since the Baron returned and we moved to this schloss that she has changed."

"It is all very natural," I insisted.

My conscience worried me. Perhaps I should attempt to talk to Freya. Sometimes I wondered how much she knew concerning the gossip about Tatiana.

I saw her in the early morning, when she greeted me somewhat absent mindedly.

I said to her: "Freya, is anything troubling you?"

"Troubling me?" she asked sharply. "What could be troubling me?"

"I just wondered. You seemed a little ..."

"A little what?" She spoke sharply again.

"Preoccupied?" I suggested.

"I have a great deal with which to be preoccupied."

"We have spoken very little English lately."

"My English is really quite good, I believe."

"It is certainly better since I came here."

"Which was, of course, the whole purpose of the enterprise," she said pertly. Then she put her arms round me. "Dear Anne," she went on, "don't fidget about me. I'm all right. What do you think of Tatiana?"

The question was so unexpected, as that lady was very much in my mind, that I was startled and showed it.

She laughed at me. "Oh, I know what you're going to say. What you think of Tatiana is of no consequence. It is not your obligation ... your duty ... to have opinions of Tatiana. But that doesn't prevent your having one—and I'll swear you have."

"I know very little of the lady."

"You have seen her. You have drawn your conclusions. I think Sigmund likes her. In fact I think he likes her a great deal."

"What do you mean by that? I asked, and I hoped she did not notice the tremor in my voice.

"Exactly what I say. I'll tell you this. I am sure he would much rather be affianced to Tatiana than to me."

"What rubbish!"

"Not rubbish at all. There she is mature ... nubile ... Is that the right word? Beautiful... I suppose she is beautiful. Do you think she is beautiful?"

"I suppose she would be considered so."

"Well then. Isn't it perfectly reasonable of him to prefer her?"

"It would be very wrong of him to," I said with an air of shocked propriety which shamed me and made me feel a despicable hypocrite. "And," I added weakly, "I am sure he would be too ... too ..."

"Too what?"

"Too—er—honourable, I suppose, to consider such a thing."

"Anne Ayres, there are times when I think you are nothing but a babe in arms. What do you know of men of the world?"

"Perhaps very little."

"Nothing," she declared. "Just nothing. Sigmund is a man, and men are like that ... all of them except priests and those who are too old to bother."

"Freya, I really think you are allowing your imagination to run away with you."

"I observe. And I am sure that I am not the one he really wants to marry."

"So you have settled on Tatiana."

"I have my reasons," she said darkly.

I could not help feeling that she did not seem greatly upset about the possibility, and yet at the same time there was a strangeness about her.