Mozart's Sister (40 page)

After Mama's death, peace became my goal. Keep the peace,
create peace, nurture peace. Perhaps it was the cowardly path, but as
grief continued to hover close, peace became more than a desire. It
was a lifeline to survival.

Toward that end I carried a tray of rolls and coffee to my
brother's room. I'd awaken him, take the edge off his morning hunger, and cajole him into getting dressed and presentable before
Papa showed up for lunch.

I tapped on the door but did not wait for an answer before
entering. I found Wolfie sprawled on the bed diagonally. He was on
his back with his head hanging precariously close to the edge. The
covers were in disarray and were wrapped around his limbs as if
binding him down. Only the deep timbre of his snores indicated he
was a twenty-two-year-old man, not a boy.

I set the tray on a table and yanked open the drapes, letting in
the midday sun. "Up!" I said. "The day is wasting."

He put his forearm over his eyes and moaned. "Leave me alone."

"I can't do that, brother dear. It's nearly noon and-"

He sat erect, the covers falling away. "Papa will be home."

He scrambled out of bed, his nightshirt tangled around his torso.
I handed him the coffee. "Last night Papa let you go to bed because
you were weary from traveling, but today he'll want some answers
about-"

"About Mama. I know"

I was going to say "About the position he's trying to arrange for
you with the archbishop." Yet Wolfie was right. Papa would want to
know about Mama too.

As would I.

He handed me the coffee and started getting dressed. I sat at the
foot of the bed.

"It wasn't my fault, Nan. I did what I could."

But could you have done it sooner? I let that point go, as I knew
Papa would cover it. What concerned me even more than the medical aspects of the situation were the social ones. "Why did you leave
her alone so much, Wolfie? When she did write to us, she sounded
terribly sad."

He tucked his shirt into his breeches. "She didn't fit in. You
know that. Our mother had the personality of a chair. And when
her time came ... she simply burned out like a candle."

"That's a horrible thing to say."

He shrugged and dug some stockings out of a travel trunk. "You
want to know the truth of things?"

"Of course I do."

He sat on the bed beside me and pulled on a stocking. "I didn't
like her. I loved her, but I didn't like her. And she knew it."
Suddenly his composure crumbled and he put a hand to his eyes.
"She knew it"

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

"It was. She cried a lot...."

The thought of Mama crying alone in her room pained me
more than mental images of her being sick.

"I wanted to like her. I wanted to include her. And I would
have, if she'd shown the least spark, the least hint that she approved
of the company I was keeping, that she understood what needed to
be done so I could obtain a position that would be satisfactory to ...
to..."

"Papa"

Wolfie moved to a mirror and ran his fingers through his hair.
As usual, it did not behave. I retrieved a black ribbon from the floor
and helped him tie it back. Only then did he turn to me and answer.
"I'm beginning to believe there is no pleasing Papa"

"That's not true."

"It is true." He sighed deeply. "But I'm home now. That should
count for something. Though how sad it is, and what a loss, to waste
my youthful years vegetating in such a beggarly place as this."

"Wolfie!"

He shrugged. "Be happy I'm here, Nan, but don't expect me to
feel the same."

I heard the front door open and Papa's voice. "Children?"

Wolfie looked at me and rolled his eyes. "We will always be
children to him, Nan."

I didn't know what to say.

Wolfie offered me his arm, and we went to greet Papa together.

Wolfie burst through the front door, ripped off his waistcoat,
and threw it on a chair. "That man! He's a liar! A man of God, full
of lies!"

I ran to quiet him, but with his pacing, I couldn't get in front of him. "Who are you talking about?" I asked. Though I knew, I knew.

Wolfie's arms waved wildly as he moved. "His Gracelessness.
The archenemy of everything good in life. The man who makes me
consider breaking each and every one of the Ten Commandments!"

Therese appeared in the doorway, her face clouded with concern. I waved her away. She'd already heard more than her share of
imprudent ranting. Although she'd proven herself loyal, with Wolfie
home these eight months, I was sure the temptation to tell others
even a small bit about the vociferous complaints my brother had
regarding the archbishop and his new position had been increased a
hundredfold. Salzburg was a city that thrived on gossip, and Wolfie
walked on one side of a very precarious line that once crossed could
destroy our family's reputation beyond repair. For him to feel these
things in private was one thing, but to shout them from the rooftops-or in a street-side room with the windows open to the spring
breezes-was dangerous.

I moved his waistcoat and patted the back of a chair. "Please,
Wolfie. Sit. Then tell me what happened."

He dove into the chair, twisting his body until he finally sat in
some semblance of normal. "My position as organist and Konzertmeister is not what I was promised. They're making me do the most
mundane tasks-tasks Papa assured me others would do. I don't
want to spend time with the other musicians-though they certainly
want to spend time with me. And the people I do want to associate
with-the nobility-will have nothing to do with me."

It distressed me that Wolfie only wanted to associate with the
elite. Had Paris done that to him?

He continued. "No one appreciates my music. Colloredo treats
me as he would a tramp pulled in off the street who tinkers with
music between picking at his lice and getting drunk. The other
musicians are mediocre at best. The woodwinds are atrocious and
squeak and squawk like caged birds." He took a fresh breath. "My
best years are being wasted here. I feel as if I've returned to serfdom
in Salzburg."

"I'm sorry things aren't going well," I said, folding his waistcoat
over my arm. "But you're being paid better than any other musician
of your level has ever been paid in Salz-"

"And that's supposed to make me feel good about things? Just
because Papa allowed himself to be treated like chattel his entire life
doesn't mean I should do the same."

"Wolfie!"

He rose from the chair. "Oh, don't defend him. You know I'm
right. Colloredo's court may be all there is for Papa, but the world
is out there waiting for me." He pointed toward the windows. "The
world, Nan. You and I both had it in our hands, but then it slipped
away. Now you're here and I'm here and ..." He took hold of illy
upper arms and looked at me eye to eye, for we were of the same
height. "You seem to like it here, Nan. But I don't. I hate it."

Did I like it here? It wasn't something I'd thought about much.
Salzburg was home. Salzburg, I knew. And yet . . . "I would like to
travel and perform, Wolfie. But I wasn't given that option"

He actually looked shocked. "Other than our impromptu plan
to travel, the plan Papa laughed at because he said we weren't old
enough, weren't able enough ... you've never said anything. You've
never asked ..."

I threw the coat at his face. "How could I ask? What could I say
to anyone? Should I moan about being a woman? Groan about having to stay home and take care of the household tasks? Should I
resent every letter you send that tells of concerts and dinners and
chances to create music-music that I love every bit as much as you
do? Should I be angry because up until the last few years when he
was stuck here with me, Papa focused all his attention on you, on
your talent, on your education, on your potential? Should I let envy
eat me up because you're seeing the world that I only remember in
childish snatches of memory? Should I hate you because you've
been given a thousand chances that haven't materialized, complaining all the way?"

During my tirade he'd retreated to the chair and I ended up
standing over him, my finger pointing in his face. I touched the tip
of his nose. "I should hate you, brother. But I don't. God help me,
I don't."

I took a step back, my chest heaving. I'd never blown up like
that. Ever. Yet in spite of the embarrassment that tinged the edges of my feelings, my strongest emotion was pleasure in this unexpected
surge of power.

Wolfie was only temporarily cowed. He recovered quickly and
applauded. "Bravo, sister! Who knew you had that in you?"

Now he was teasing. I swatted at his hands. "Don't make fun of
me. I'm serious."

"I know And though your presentation is surprising, the content of what you said is valid and correct."

I had trouble remembering all that I had said. "It is?"

He took my hands and pulled them to his chest. "I am a vain,
arrogant, stubborn human being. And I'm blind too. For me to not
see your suffering ..."

"I haven't been suffering. I've accepted my lot. I know how little
can be done to change it. I am just one woman. I can't change the
world."

"Oh, but use can!" Suddenly he swung me in a circle, dancing
the length of the music room. My skirt trailed behind me, knocking
over a music stand, moving a chair ...

"Stop!" I said. "We're going to break something!"

He pulled me close and we spun to a halt, out of breath. "We
could change the world, Nan. You and I could leave this horrid city
together and venture off on our own Grand Tour without Papa's
interference."

I smoothed ny hair, hooking a loose tendril behind my ear.
"We're not the Wunderkinder anymore."

"No, we're not. We're better than that. We are the Magnificent
Mozarts with a lifetime of experience and practice behind us, and
with an overabundance of God's gracious gifts fueling us on." He
tucked in his shirt as he talked. "We could make a hundred thousand
florins and become more famous than Handel or any one of the
Bachs." He tugged at the ruffle of my sleeve. The lace was ripped at
the edge. "We could get ourselves luscious, matching clothes and
have powdered wigs so tall they'd nip the ceiling. Your neck would
be heavy with jewels, and I would have gold and diamond buckles
on my shoes"

"Don't be silly," I said-though I was laughing. "We could never
afford all that."

"Why not? If the ex love-of-my-life, Aloysia Weber, can get an
appointment in Munich that earns her one thousand a year when
she's just a singer, then-"

"One thousand? She makes that much?"

"She is very talented. But so are we, sister. And our talents are
far more diverse than hers. I would compose music for the two of
us that would showcase our talents and make audiences swoon."

I giggled. "I've never seen an audience swoon."

He pinched my cheek. "Then you have not lived, dear Nan.
You truly have not lived." Wolfie looked at the clock on the mantel.
"When will Papa be home? We must tell him our plans, and we
won't take no for an answer. Not this time."

The lofty door to the world that had just opened to me snapped
shut. "Papa will never allow-"

Wolfie swung toward me. "Allow? I've had enough of people
allowing me to do things! We are both adults. It is time we created
our own life instead of allowing Papa to create one of his making."

My mind swam with logistics. "But With Mama gone, he has no
one, and he has a tendency toward melancholy. He often sulks and
barely smiles. He worries about everything and-"

"So that's it?" He snapped his fingers. "With just the mere
thought of him, you abandon our plans?"

"We have to think of reality, Wolfie. You couldn't find a position
in Paris, or Mannheim, or Munich. Why should we think that two
of us could do better?"

"We don't need a position; we just need an audience. I want to
write operas, Nan. I can't do that here. And you could play the
keyboard for all of them, and help me direct. You could even help
me compose. We could be a team in every musical sense."

It sounded wonderful.

It sounded impossible. A fantasy.

A knock on the door surprised me. I went to get it. It was
Franz. After kissing my cheek, he saw Wolfie. "Am I interrupting
something?"

Wolfie looked at me, then Franz, then me again. He was not
smiling. "Aha. I see how things are. You've made your choice, and
it has nothing to do with Papa, or opportunities, or lost chances to use your talent. Seeing what I see ... you have no right to give me
a hard time about wanting to use my chances, Nan. To each his
own. To each his own."

He grabbed his coat and pushed past Franz on the way out the
door.

"What is he so upset about?" Franz asked.

"Life." lest dreams. Dashed {lopes.

Franz pulled me close, smiling. "I have news. News about our
life."