Mozart's Sister (50 page)

The lies didn't last long. They couldn't. Not with Franz. "None
of that is true," I finally said. "I'm miserable there. The children run
amuck, they are uneducated and show absolutely no penchant for
wanting to change that condition, they have not been taught the
most basic rules of daily hygiene, the servants are lazy and dirty in
their own right, as well as rude, and my new pianoforte is horribly
out of tune and I can't get anyone to come fix it"

I hadn't meant to say all this in one breath. I laughed with
embarrassment.

Franz did not.

"I'm sorry," I said. "That was quite a list."

He stopped walking and faced me. "Is there no light, Nan?"

I started to answer "Of course there is" but realized if pressed it
would be hard ...

Yet the way his cheeks drooped with concern, the way his eyes
peered into mine seeking hope ... I knew I must come up with
something positive to say.

"I am with child."

His face skirted shock, dickered with dismay, then locked on
happiness. He took my hands and kissed both my cheeks. "Oh,
Nan. I am so happy for you. A child of your own! You will make a
wonderful mother."

Not wanting to see his eyes, I took his arm and began to walk
again. "But I'm not a good mother, Franz. I have been given the
care of five children and am failing miserably."

"They were set in their ways. That's what makes it difficult.
Don't blame yourself for a previous lifetime of neglect. And surely,
with one of your own ..

I wasn't so sure. "Even assuming I am the best mother in the
world-which I know I'm not the conditions at St. Gilgen, the
lack of proper help, the ignorance and level of distrust toward any
sort of education ... there is more than mountain and lake holding
those people down"

"Perhaps they know nothing else. `All I know is I know nothing.

Let Socrates speak for the past. The present and future were not
so pliable. "If only they realized they know nothing. They take no
issue with ignorance, for it is their norm"

"And this frustrates you, a woman of education and experience."

I did not want to seem haughty. "I have spoken at length with
Johann about this, but he ..." I shook my head, not wanting to
remember Johann's repeated response, nor share it. "I am frustrated,
Franz. Frustrated beyond comprehension"

"I can see that."

I put my hand over my belly. "I fear for my child's future."

"As you should."

"If only he or she could be brought up here"

His voice lightened. "Would your husband agree to a move?"

I laughed. "He considers St. Gilgen the gem of the world. His
family roots are deep-and stubborn. He will not move."

Franz patted my arm. "Then I will pray for you. For you and
the child you carry. Just know that I am here for you. Always."

I knew that. I knew that he was here.

And I was not.

I had planned to ease into the news with Papa. I'd welcome him
home, have Therese serve a nice dinner, get him comfortable sitting with Johann by the fire, pipe in hand, all warm and content. But as
soon as I heard Papa enter the house all plans were forgotten. I ran
to him, wrapped my arms around his neck, and pronounced, "I am
with child, Papa. I am expecting a child!"

It took him a moment to recover from my exuberant greeting
and comprehend my words. But I knew he'd achieved both when
he beamed and hugged me close, lifting me off of the floor. "Oh,
dear girl. Nothing could make me happier." He let go. "When?"

"Late summer. Perhaps August."

He held me at arm's length and looked at my midsection. "You
are not showing yet." Only Papa could get away with such a blatant
observation.

"My clothes are tight," I offered.

"And will get tighter!" He put his arm around my shoulders.
"And where is your husband so I might congratulate him?"

"On errands."

He handed me his hat and hung his cloak on a hook near the
door. "He leaves you alone when you're in this condition?"

"Papa, I don't mind. Really." I hoped the double entendre was
evident.

It was. He gave me a pointed look.

I looked away. "Come inside and tell me the news of Vienna. I
want to hear everything."

I was happy to hear that Wolfie's decision not to seek a permanent position had worked out for him and that he was being allowed
time to write what he loved most: opera. And yet, this good news
also frustrated me. Wolfie had done everything wrong and had gone
against all Papa's advice. Yet by doing so he'd broken free of Salzburg
and Archbishop Colloredo, lived in one of the cultural centers of
the world, spent his days hearing applause for his work, and had
married the woman he loved.

I had done everything Papa had told me to. I had been the good
child, the obedient child. Yet I had been yanked from Salzburg and
imprisoned in a town that was devoid of culture. I'd given up the man I loved, married a man I didn't, spent my days dealing with
chaos, heard only yells and complaints for all my hard work, and
ached in body and soul for the sound of good music and the opportunity to play it.

"You've stopped listening, Nannerl," Papa said.

He was right. "I'm sorry. My mind is elsewhere. I do want to
hear. Really I do."

He set his coffee on the table next to his chair and leaned toward
me, putting a hand on my knee. "There is something I must talk to
you about. A plan I've made."

I cringed, anticipating his permanent defection. "Yes?"

"Wolfgang has asked me-repeatedly-to move to Vienna. To
leave my position here."

My heart sank. My fears gained legs. "When do you leave?"

"I'm not going."

It took me a moment. "What?"

He sat back in his chair. "I must admit I was tempted. Very
tempted. But I will also admit my concerns about Wolfgang's lifestyle."

"He appears to be living a high life."

"Which cannot last."

"But you said his success grows larger."

Papa shrugged. "Audiences and nobility are notoriously fickle,
as is fame and fortune. I fear your brother-and his wife-are
spending money they don't have. I fear they are not saving for a time
of lesser prosperity."

"Wolfie has never been good at saving for a rainy day."

"To him all days should be sunny or not allowed."

"Being an optimist can be a good thing," I said.

"But being a realist is more prudent."

Neither prudence nor being realistic was my brother's strong
point.

Papa tented his fingers and rested them against his lips. "In addition, your brother's word cannot always be trusted."

"How so?"

Papa shook his head. "His ways are boisterous and wild, his
hours eccentric, his company is questionable, and his road skirts the
path of destruction."

"I'm so sorry," I said. And I was.

Suddenly Papa sat forward, his face transformed by a smile.
"Besides, I cannot leave Salzburg. I want to be here for you. And be
here for the birth of your child."

In seconds I was out of my chair, kneeling beside him, wrapping
my arms around his neck. "Oh, Papa! Thank you. Thank you."

"Goodness, child. I never realized it would mean so much to you."

I sat back to see his face. "It does, Papa. I need you. The baby
needs you."

He wiped away one of my unexpected tears with his thumb.
"There, there, girl. I am not going anywhere. I promise."

I returned to my chair, my heart lighter for his vow.

"In fact . . ." Papa began. "Concerning the birth of your
child ... I want to be present for that blessed event"

"I would love to have you there."

Papa shook his head. "Not there. Here. I want you here in Salzburg for the birth."

I liked the sound of that. But ... "Johann will never agree."

"He must. He's lost two wives during childbirth in St. Gilgen. I
will insist you be here, in this house, where medical help is readily
available. How can he argue?"

Indeed.

Papa stood. "In fact, I will talk to him this evening. We must
get it settled before you return home." He looked down at me. "Or
would you rather talk to your husband?"

"No, no, Papa. You do it. I would be greatly relieved if you did."

"Then it's settled."

I breathed easier. Papa would take care of everything.

On July 27, 1785, my son Leopold Alois Panteleon was bornon St. Panteleon's Dayat eleven fifty-five in the morning. By five,
Papa had taken him to be christened and had become his godfather.

Johann was not present for the birth. He was too busy. But in
the five weeks I stayed in my father's house, he and the children did
cone visit. The oldest four children looked at Leopoldl warily, for they had been through this before: another stepmother having her
own child. I could almost see their minds race with questions of
how this would change things. As for little Karl ... I swore I could
see a plan brewing as to how he might see if his new little brother
would float in the lake. At age three we had already had to fish Karl
out several times, once finding him on the point of death. The boy
needed constant watching.

"Do we get to keep him?" little Johann asked.

Maria swatted him on the side of the head. "We can't very well
put him back, can we?"

"But where will he sleep?" Wolfgang asked. "I don't want to
share a-"

"Actually, that's something I need to talk to your father about."
I risked a look at Johann.

Papa turned to Therese. "Therese, please take the children out.
Perhaps to the square."

I pitied anyone who had gone to the square for a quiet moment
because it would soon be shattered by the running, yelling, and hitting presence of my children.

I longed to take Papa's hand, to feel his strong support in what
was about to be discussed, but instead took solace in cradling dear
Leopoldl.

"What's all this about?" Johann asked.

"It's about our son," I said, stroking the baby's cheek with a finger. "It's about his future."

"It's about his education, his well-being, and the complete fulfillment of his potential."

Johann backed away from both of us, his head shaking no. "You
two are plotting something...."

"Not plot-" I said.

"Plotting is too strong a word, son-in-law. Preparing, strategizing, anticipating. These are what need to be done in order for our
little Leopoldl to thrive."

Johann looked at Papa, then at me, then at Papa again. "I suppose I have no choice but to listen."

As much as I was glad for Papa's presence, I had to be the one
to say it. "I want Leopoldl to stay here with Papa"

Johann stared at me as if he had not heard. Then he blinked.
"Stay? Here?"

"Exactly," Papa said. "Nannerl has her hands full in St. Gilgen with
the other children and the household. And you yourself must admit
that the opportunities for a proper education are very limited there. As
a university graduate you share my own love of knowledge."

Johann shared no such love....