On the Night of the Seventh Moon (19 page)

I immediately spoke to her in German and the effect was miraculous. Her plump face lighted up, her eyes shone and she answered volubly in her own language. In the space of a few minutes she told me that she was visiting England and that she spoke very little English—both
of which facts were fairly obvious—and that she wanted a little book which would help her to understand the language.

I took her along to the German section in the foreign department, telling her that I had a phrase book she would find useful and I thought that a dictionary would be of great help.

She made the purchases and thanked me, but seemed loath to go and as we were not busy I was quite happy to talk with her.

She had arrived only a few days ago in England and had come to Oxford because a friend of hers had been educated there. She wanted to see the place of which she had heard so much. Was she enjoying England? I asked. Yes, was the answer, but the language barrier was a difficulty. She felt lonely and she could not tell me how wonderful it was to find someone who could talk to her as I could.

I found myself explaining to her that my mother was Bavarian and that she used to talk to me in her native tongue, and that I had been educated in a
Damenstift
near Leichenkin.

The joy in her face was expressive. But that was wonderful. She knew the
Damenstift
well. It was not so far from where she lived. This was better than ever.

After half an hour she left, but the next day she was back again and made a further purchase. Again she stayed to talk.

She looked so wistful when she was about to walk out of the shop that I asked her to tea next day.

She arrived at the expected time and I took her into the little sitting room which seemed so much more gay now that Aunt Caroline was dead. Ellen brought in the tea and some cakes which she had made. They weren't up to Aunt Caroline's standards, but neither of us cared for that.

The conversation was exciting, because Frau Graben knew the forest well. She told me that she lived in a small
Schloss
perched on the mountainside and here she was the
Schloss mutter.
She was in charge of the household and was the children's chief nurse. She was indeed the mother. She proudly told me that she was responsible for the management of the
Schloss.

The children to whom she referred with affection were Dagobert, Fritzi, and Liesel.

“Whose children are they?” I asked.

“They're the Count's.”

I felt dizzy with an excitement which had grown greater ever since I had met Frau Graben.

“Count . . . ?” I reiterated.

“Well,” she said. “He's the Duke's nephew and a gay young gentleman he is too. Many people thought he was mixed up in his father's plotting. But now Count Ludwig has gone there's still my lord Count and no one can be sure what he might be up to.”

“What of the Countess?”

“She's a suitable wife for him and they have one son.”

“I thought you said there were three children?”

“I'm not actually in the Count's household. I have nothing to do with that son.” She shrugged her shoulders. “You know how it is . . . But perhaps you don't. My lord was always after the women; Ludwig was the same. It runs in the family. They used to say that Ludwig was the father of a good many more than he owned to. And, my goodness, you can see the family features in the little ones playing about in the villages.”

“And these three?”

“He admits to them. Special favorites their mothers must have been. And the Count likes any connected with him to be well looked after. He's fond of them in his way and comes to see them now and then. He takes an interest in their future. And as our own state of Saxe-Coburg was allied with the royal family of England he wants them all taught English.”

“This Count,” I said, “what is he like?”

“He's like all the family—tall and good-looking, and fond of his own way. No woman's safe once he's taken a fancy to her. Yes, he's just like all the family. I was nurse to them so I know and I reckon that nursery was as difficult to control as a whole dukedom. The mischief those boys got into! I had my hands full, I did. And in their mid-teens it was the women they were after. But I will say this. He looked after
the children. It's my belief that many a girl puts her trouble down to his door. He's careless. He'll see she's all right. He likes his fun, he says, and doesn't mind paying for it. The children think he's wonderful. Young Dagobert will grow up just like him. I'm not so sure of Fritzi. There's something different about Fritzi. I worry about him. He needs a mother and of course that's just what he hasn't got.”

“Where is his mother?”

“She's dead, I daresay. But the mothers wouldn't come to the
Schloss
in any case. Once he's done with a woman he's done with her. But I will say he takes an interest in the children. He didn't like the way some of the family couldn't speak English with the Queen's party when she came visiting us from England after her husband's death. ‘I want the children to learn English,' he said. So now of course we'll have a new teacher for them. ‘An
English
teacher,' he said. He's not going to have them talking with a German accent.”

“And the Count—does he speak English?”

“He's been educated here . . . in this place. He speaks English like you do. That's how the children will have to.”

“They'll have to have an English teacher.”

“Yes, that's what he aims at.”

She went on to tell me about the children. Dagobert was the eldest. He was twelve—and boys of twelve can be a handful; then came Fritzi, short for Fritz. He was ten. He missed his mother. I thought: He would be a year older than my daughter, and the terrible yearning was back with me.

“Then there's Liesel. A haughty little piece she is. Five years old and very much aware of her noble blood even though her mother was a little dressmaker who came to the court to sew.”

Again I was being caught up in that fairy-tale atmosphere. The excitement had come back to me in force. I wanted her to go on talking to me about the
Schloss
on the mountainside that looked down on the valley in which lay the town of Rochenberg, the capital city of Rochenstein, which was ruled over by the Duke Carl who was also the Count of Lokenburg.

It seemed a remarkable coincidence that Frau Graben had come into the shop and that I had been there to attend to her, that she had been so eager to talk in her own language that she was now sitting drinking tea in this house and bringing back so vividly that romantic adventure which had begun eleven years ago in the mist.

As she was leaving she said suddenly, “Now you're the sort of person we'd want to teach them English.”

I felt a little faint. I stammered: “But I'm not a teacher.”

She went on: “It would have to be an English person. The Count was thinking of a tutor. But I don't think a woman would be out of place . . . better I think. Women understand children more. I wonder . . .”

“I had no intention of teaching,” I said. “You would want somebody qualified.”

“He'd want someone of education, but the main thing is someone who'd understand the children and speak German so well you could hardly tell it wasn't spoken by a native. Yes, I do reckon you're just the one.”

“If I had been looking for such a post . . .” I began.

“It would only be for a short time, of course. I don't know how long they'd take to learn. You love the mountains and the pine forests, don't you? You'd live in the
Schloss.
I'd be there, as the
Schlossmutter.
I'm in charge of the children's household. There's something about you . . .
sympathetic
. . . that's it. When the Count talked of having an English tutor I didn't like it at all. I don't want a man interfering in my household. I'd like a nice young woman, I thought. But not one of those stern, sharp-voiced English mistresses. Oh no! I wouldn't want that. I told the Count so. But my tongue's running away with me. If he engages a tutor, a tutor it'll be. Perhaps he has already done so. Well, it has been interesting talking to you.”

I said: “You must come again.”

She held my hand when she said goodbye and there were tears in her eyes, as she thanked me for being kind and taking in the “stranger within my gates.”

That night I scarcely slept at all. I was so excited. I thought of the
Schloss
on the mountain looking down on the capital city and I longed to be there. I knew that I could never settle down happily with Anthony until I had made one great effort to discover the truth of what happened to me on the Night of the Seventh Moon.

I asked Frau Graben to tea again, just before she left Oxford. She talked of her home, of the children, of customs and feast days of Rochenstein, of good Duke Carl who was stern and serious, so different from some of the previous rulers and members of his family. She told me about the visit of the Crown Prince and Princess of Prussia and I knew, didn't I, that the Crown Princess was Victoria who was named after her mother the Queen of England.

I was in a panic because she seemed to have completely forgotten her reference to the English teacher who would be wanted for the Count's children. I knew that I wanted to go, that this was an opportunity, a flimsy one it was true, and one which had come about as unexpectedly as . . . as the visit of Ilse and Ernst.

I had hoped that my cousin would ask me to pay another visit but she never wrote. Perhaps Ilse was not a good letter writer and once she had assured herself that I had settled down after my experience she thought correspondence unnecessary. But she might have answered my letters.

It was I who had to make the reference. “I should like to know that you return safely,” I said. “Would you write to me? I feel you have become a friend and I should like to know how you get along with the tutor.”

“Oh, that tutor!” she cried. “I hope he never comes.” She looked at me, her plump face earnest. “Suppose I was to mention our meeting. The Count sets store on my opinion. Would you . . . ? Just suppose he thought it might be a good idea.” She warmed to the subject. “It would save so much trouble. We would have an English woman and there wouldn't be the fuss of seeing you. I've done that already. I can think of no one more suitable, from my point of view. I could tell the Count . . .”

“I'd . . . I'd like to think about it.”

She nodded. “Well, that's something. I'll mention you, and if he hasn't done anything, and if he agrees . . .”

“Well,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “You might mention it.”

 

Now I could think of nothing but the possibility.

It was nine years ago since the day I left. Nine years! I should have made greater efforts to discover what had happened. I had accepted the solution given me by Ilse and Ernst, but they had faded into the past and seemed more unreal than Maximilian could ever be. Perhaps if I could go back I might discover the answer.

I
must
go back. I could take a holiday there perhaps with Anthony. No, that would not do. I should have to go as his wife and I must be free . . . free for whatever I should find.

I did not wish to go as a tourist. But to go to the
Schloss
on the mountainside, looking down on the capital city . . . that was what I wanted. I knew then that I
must
go.

I lived in a fever of excitement. I was absentminded in the shop. I kept away from the vicarage as much as possible.

“You are letting those Elkington women's gossip bother you,” said Anthony. “You mustn't, you know. We'd face anything there was to face together.”

But it was not that. I was obsessed by the thought that I might find him. So it would be throughout my life. If ever I had known that marriage with Anthony would be unfair to him and perhaps wrong for me, I knew it now.

And at length there was the letter.

I was trembling so much that I could scarcely open it. The words danced before my eyes.

She had spoken to the Count. He agreed that the idea was excellent and as she had already vetted me there would be no need for any other recommendations. Would I let them know when I should be arriving and the sooner the better as far as they were concerned.

I was so excited I rushed into the shop and told Amelia.

“Go away to teach! You're crazy. What about Anthony?”

“Nothing has been settled between us.”

Aunt Matty was distraught. Just as she had thought I was nicely settled!

“Perhaps it won't last long,” I said. “I might not like it.”

“Go for a holiday,” advised Amelia. “Take a month or so and when you come back you'd have made up your mind to marry Anthony.”

But what could they know of this violent longing.

Mr. and Mrs. Greville were clearly hurt but Anthony understood.

“Go,” he said. “This place meant something to you when you were young and impressionable. You'll see it differently now you're grown up. You'll come back and then I'll be waiting for you.”

He understood as no one else could.

I did love him—but not in the wild unreasoning way I had loved before. I knew I was saying goodbye (but he said au revoir) to the best of men.

All the same when the day of my departure arrived I felt more like the young girl I had once been than I had for nine long weary years.

I
t was dark when I arrived at the Schloss Klocksburg so that it was not until morning that I was able to take stock of my surroundings. I awoke to the sunshine of an early summer's morning which filtered into my room through two long narrow slits of window. A feeling of overpowering excitement was with me and for a few moments I lay still saying to myself: “I'm here. I'm back.”