Read The Storm Sister (The Seven Sisters #2) Online
Authors: Lucinda Riley
Below the words was a red seal and a signature. Anna wondered how many years it must have taken at school for her mentor to achieve that.
‘My goodness, it is getting dark in here already and it’s barely past five o’clock!’ said Herr Bayer as he swept back into the room, accompanied by a tall, slim woman
whom Anna thought was perhaps of a similar age to her mother. She was wearing a dark wool dress with a high neck and a long full skirt, which although elegantly cut, was plain and unadorned, apart
from a bunch of keys dangling from a fine chain around the waist. The woman’s light brown hair was arranged in a neat bun at the nape of her neck.
‘Anna, this is Frøken Olsdatter, my housekeeper.’
‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Frøken Olsdatter,’ Anna said, giving a curtsey, as she had always been taught to do as a show of respect to her elders.
‘And I you, Anna,’ said the woman, a half-smile in her warm brown eyes as she watched her rise from the curtsey. ‘I am here to serve and take care of
you
,’ she
emphasised, ‘so you must let me know if there is anything you need or if something is not satisfactory.’
‘I . . .’ Anna was confused. Surely this lady in her fine gown wasn’t a servant? ‘Thank you.’
‘Light the lamps, will you, Frøken Olsdatter?’ Herr Bayer instructed the woman. ‘Anna, are you chilly? You must tell me if you are and we will light the stove
also.’
It took Anna a minute or two to respond, as she was transfixed by the sight of Frøken Olsdatter using a length of cord to lower the chandelier that hung from the ceiling, then twist a
brass knob in the centre before holding a lit wax taper to it. Delicate flames sprang to life along the ornately fashioned arms of the chandelier, filling the room with a soft golden glow as it was
hoisted back into place above them. Anna then glanced at the stove Herr Bayer was referring to. It was fashioned out of some form of ceramic and was cream in colour. Its broad chimney reached right
up to the high, delicately latticed ceiling and its carved mantelpiece was edged with gilt. Compared to her parents’ ugly black iron contraption, that was not a stove, Anna thought, it was a
work of art.
‘Thank you, Herr Bayer, but I am perfectly warm.’
‘Frøken Olsdatter, please take Anna’s cloak and put it in her room along with her valise,’ Herr Bayer requested.
Anna untied the ribbon from about her neck and the housekeeper removed the cloak from her shoulders. ‘The big city must be rather overwhelming for you,’ she said quietly as she
folded the cloak over her arm. ‘It certainly was for me when I first arrived here from Ålesund.’
In those few words, Anna knew immediately that Frøken Olsdatter had once been a country girl too. And that she understood.
‘So, my dear young lady, we will sit down and take some tea. As soon as you have a moment to bring it, Frøken Olsdatter.’
‘Very good, Herr Bayer.’ The housekeeper nodded, picked up Anna’s valise and left the room.
He indicated a chair where Anna should sit and sat down opposite her on the settle. ‘We have much to talk about. And as there is no time like the present, I will begin to tell you of your
new life here in Christiania. You say you can read and write proficiently, which will save us a great deal of time. Can you also read music?’
‘No, I cannot,’ Anna confessed.
She watched as Herr Bayer drew a leather-bound notebook towards him and picked up a lacquered ink pen that made the one Lars had given her look as if it was a rough piece of driftwood. He dipped
the pen into an inkwell placed on the low table and began to write.
‘And I take it you have no knowledge of other languages?’
‘No, I do not.’
Again, he wrote in his notebook. ‘Have you ever been to a concert – by which I mean a musical performance – at a theatre or concert hall?’
‘No, sir, never, only at the church.’
‘Then we must rectify that as soon as possible. Do you know what an opera is?’
‘I believe so. It’s where the people on the stage sing the story rather than speak it.’
‘Very good. And how is your counting?’
‘I can count up to one hundred,’ Anna said proudly.
Herr Bayer stifled a smile. ‘And that is all you need in music, Anna. As a singer, one must know how to count the beats. Can you play an instrument?’
‘My father has a
hardanger
fiddle and I learnt the basics of how to play that.’
‘Well then, it seems you are already a very accomplished young lady,’ he said with satisfaction as the housekeeper came in with a tray. ‘Now we will take tea, and after that,
if Frøken Olsdatter would be so kind, she will show you to your room. Then at seven o’clock, we will have supper together in the dining room.’
Anna’s attention was drawn to the strangely shaped pot from which the housekeeper was pouring what looked like very weak coffee.
‘It’s Darjeeling tea,’ said Herr Bayer.
Not wishing to appear ignorant, Anna took the delicate china cup to her lips, mimicking Herr Bayer. The taste was pleasant but rather nondescript compared with the strong coffee her mother made
at home.
‘In your room you will also find some plain clothes that I had Frøken Olsdatter run up for you. Of course, I could only guess at your size and, looking at you now, you are even more
petite than I remembered so the clothes may well need adjusting,’ Herr Bayer added. ‘As you might already have surmised, traditional Norwegian dress is seldom worn in Christiania, other
than on festival days.’
‘I am sure that whatever Frøken Olsdatter has made for me will do me very well, sir,’ Anna replied politely.
‘My dear young lady, I admit I am mightily impressed with your composure so far. Having had the company of other young singers up from the country, I understand what a change of
circumstances this is for you. Sadly, many of them run home like mice to their nests. I have a feeling that you will not be following them. Now, Anna, Frøken Olsdatter will take you to your
room to settle in, whilst I tackle some of my interminable paperwork from the university. We shall meet again at seven for dinner.’
‘As you wish, sir.’
Anna rose and saw that Frøken Olsdatter was already waiting for her at the door. She dropped Herr Bayer a curtsey and left the room, following Frøken Olsdatter further along the
corridor until the housekeeper halted in front of a door and opened it.
‘This is to be your room, Anna. I hope you will find it comfortable. The skirts and blouses I have made for you are hanging in the wardrobe. Try them on later and we will see if they need
altering.’
‘Thank you,’ said Anna, her gaze falling on the enormous bed with its embroidered counterpane, which was twice the size of the one her parents shared at home. She saw that a new
linen nightgown was already laid out at the bottom of it.
‘I have unpacked some of your belongings and will help you see to the rest later. There’s water in the jug on the night-stand if you are thirsty and the bathroom is at the end of the
corridor.’
‘Bathroom’ was not a word that Anna was familiar with and she looked at Frøken Olsdatter uncertainly.
‘The room which contains the water closet and the bathtub. Herr Bayer’s late wife was American and insisted on such modern conveniences.’ The housekeeper gave a slight raise of
her eyebrows, whether of approval or the opposite, Anna couldn’t guess. ‘We will see you in the dining room at seven,’ she said and promptly left the room.
Anna walked over to the wardrobe, opened it and let out a sigh of wonder at her new clothes. There were four fine cotton blouses fastened at the neck with small pearl buttons and two woollen
skirts. But most thrillingly, there was also a formal bustled gown fashioned from a lustrous and shiny green fabric that she surmised must be silk. Closing the wardrobe with a shiver of pleasure,
Anna then followed Frøken Olsdatter’s directions and made her way down the corridor to the bathroom.
Of all the sights she had seen already that day, what met her eyes as she opened the door was the most miraculous of all. In one corner was a large wooden bench that held an enamel seat with a
hole in the centre of it and had an iron ring pull on a chain above it. As she pulled it gingerly, water rushed in automatically and Anna realised it was an indoor privy. There was also a deep,
shiny white bathtub in the middle of the tiled floor, which made the tin bath her family occasionally used in Heddal look like something only a goat would be washed in.
Marvelling over how these things could be possible, Anna returned to her room. The clock told her she had barely more than half an hour before she was expected for dinner with Herr Bayer. As she
went to the wardrobe to select one of her new outfits to wear for the occasion, she noticed that Frøken Olsdatter had laid out writing paper and Anna’s own pen on the small polished
table under the window. She promised herself that she would write to Lars and her parents as soon as she had the chance, to tell them of everything she had already seen. Then she set about making
herself presentable for her very first evening in Christiania.
Apartment 4
10 St Olav’s Gate
Christiania
24th September 1875
Kjære Lars, Mor, Far and Knut,
Please forgive all the spelling mistakes and bad grammar, but I hope you can see that my penmanship has improved! I have been here now for five days and I feel I must share my wonder at
city life.
The first thing – and I hope you do not feel I am being improper by mentioning it – is that there is an inside facility with a chain that you pull for disposal afterwards!
There is also a bathtub which is filled for me with hot water twice a week! I worry that Frøken Olsdatter, who is the housekeeper here, and Herr Bayer think I have some disease which
means I must spend hours in the full tub.
There is also gas-lamp lighting, and a stove in the drawing room that looks like a very grand church altar and which gives out so much heat that I often feel I will faint. Frøken
Olsdatter organises the household routine and prepares and serves our food, and we also have a daily maid who comes each morning to clean the apartment and wash and iron the clothes, so I
confess I hardly lift a finger compared to my duties at home.
We live three floors up, on a street called St Olav’s Gate, which has a very pretty view of a park where the local people walk on Sundays. At least I can see green from my window
and a few trees that are fast losing their leaves as winter approaches, but they do remind me of home so much. (It is unusual here to find more than a small patch of earth that is not crowded
by roads or houses.)
As for my studies, I am learning to play the piano. Herr Bayer is very patient, but I think I am very stupid. My small fingers do not seem to spread across the notes in the way he wishes
them to.
I should tell you what my day consists of, and then you can understand better. I am woken at eight by Frøken Olsdatter knocking on my door with a breakfast tray. At that moment, I
confess I feel like a princess. I drink tea, which I’m slowly getting used to the taste of, and eat the fresh white bread which Herr Bayer tells me is the very thing in England and
France. Next to it is a pot of preserved fruit that is spread onto the bread. After breakfast, I dress in the clothes that Frøken Olsdatter has made for me, which feel so modern compared
to what I wore at home, and by nine o’clock I present myself in the drawing room to begin my music lesson with Herr Bayer. For an hour or so, he teaches me the notes on the piano and
after that we study sheet music. I have to learn how the notes on the page go with the keys on the piano, and slowly, due to Herr Bayer’s excellent teaching, I am starting to understand.
After my lesson, Herr Bayer leaves to go to the university where he is a professor, or sometimes to meet friends for lunch.
And then comes the part of my day I enjoy most – the midday meal. The day after I arrived, Frøken Olsdatter served me lunch alone in the dining room, which has a very large
table that makes me feel even more alone. (The top of it is so highly polished it shines like a mirror and I can see my reflection in it.) After the meal, I picked up my plate and glass and
took them into the kitchen. Frøken Olsdatter looked shocked and said it was her job to collect the dirty tableware. But then out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something else that I
had never seen before – a large black iron cooking range. Frøken Olsdatter showed me how she could place pots upon it and light gas burners beneath them to cook the food, rather
than doing so over an open fire. It is very different from our kitchen at the farm, but it reminded me so much of home that I begged her, on the days when Herr Bayer was not at home for lunch,
to allow me to eat with her. And that is what we have done every day since. We talk like friends and she is very kind and understands how strange this new life is for me. In the afternoons, I
am meant to rest for an hour in my room, with a book that will ‘expand the mind’. At present I am reading (or trying to read) a Norwegian translation of plays by an English writer
called William Shakespeare. I am sure you will have heard of him, but he is long dead and the first play I read was about a Scottish prince called Macbeth and was very sad. Everyone seemed to
die!
I come out of my room once Herr Bayer returns from the university. We drink tea again and he talks to me of his day. Next week, he wishes to take me to the Christiania Theatre. We are
seeing a ballet, performed by some Russians, which he tells me is a dance set to music where nobody speaks or sings (and that the men don’t even wear proper trousers, but hose, like
girls!). After tea, I return to my room, then change into the evening gown that Frøken Olsdatter has made me. I wish you could see it – it is so very beautiful and like nothing I
have ever worn before. At dinner, we drink red wine that Herr Bayer has had sent over from France and eat an awful lot of fish in a white sauce which he tells me is very common here in
Christiania. After dinner, Herr Bayer lights a cigar, which is tobacco wrapped in dried tobacco leaf, and takes a brandy. At this point, I retire to my room, usually very tired, to find a glass
of hot cow’s milk beside my bed.
On Sunday, Frøken Olsdatter accompanied me to church. Herr Bayer says he will come too in future, but he was busy this time. The church is the size of a cathedral and there were
hundreds of people in it. So you can see my experiences are very different to the life I used to live in Heddal. Just now, I feel a little as though I am living in a dream. That nothing is
real, and home seems a long way away.
I had thought that I had been brought by Herr Bayer to Christiania to sing. The truth is that all I have done so far is sing something called scales on a piano, which means repeating the
notes in order, up and down and up again, with no words.
My address is at the top of the letter and I would be most grateful if you reply to this. I am sorry about all the ink blots. It is the first and longest letter I have ever written and
it has taken me many hours. I am of course using the pen that you gave me, Lars, and I have put it on my desk so I can see it always.
Please tell Mor and Far and my brothers that I miss them and I hope you can read this to them. I cannot write another as it took me so long, and neither are they good at their
letters.
I hope you are well and that your pigs are too.
Anna