Tempting Fate (23 page)

Otto chuckled. “You’ve never done anything more than pick roses in all your days. Why a garden now?”

“To have something to do. Flowers would be nice. Jürgen likes them. I’d feel I was doing something rather than simply waiting while others do my work, take care of my husband, All of Wolkighügel could run on very well without me.”

“Tush! That’s self-pity Rudi, and it isn’t worthy of you.” He pointed through the trees toward a good-sized house. “New neighbors, by the look of it. Johan at the inn said that they came here last summer and rebuilt the old Zicklein place. It looks different, doesn’t it? I heard their name is Schnaubel. He’s an architect, and she, they tell me, paints. They have four children, all wild as mad foxes.”

Gudrun sat up in the sleigh. “Why didn’t you tell me about them? You’ve been saying how there is no one appropriate for me to know in this place, and all the while, the Schnaubels are living here…”

Otto coughed. “Actually, Maximillian warned me about them. He said it would be just like you to make friends of them, and he didn’t want that to happen.”

“Why not?” Gudrun’s voice had risen slightly. “What has Maxl to say about what little social life I have? I do not object to his friends from München, so what is there he could object to in my knowing the neighbors?”

“Well,” Otto said, wishing he did not have to speak so loudly to be heard, “they’re Jews. You know how Maxl feels about Jews.” He gave a helpless hitch to his shoulders, knowing that he would have to disappoint one of his treasured charges.

“Of all the absurd…” Gudrun began in exasperation, then shook her head. “Otto, I want to stop here. Pull up, will you?”

“But Maxl would not—” Otto said at once.

Gudrun interrupted him. “Maxl has nothing to do with this. I do not make lists of his friends and I don’t expect him to do that for me. Pull up. I want to meet these people.”

“They might not be home,” Otto suggested. “And with children, you know, it isn’t always possible to receive visitors.”

“Then I will leave a card. Do as I say, Otto, or I will climb out of the sleigh and walk to the house myself.” There was no doubt that she was serious and after a miserable shrug, Otto tugged Hässlich around and started him up the snowy drive.

As Gudrun stepped down from the sleigh, the door opened and a boy of about fourteen or fifteen stepped out. “Who are you?” he asked her.

“I’m Frau Ostneige,” she said, and smiled at the boy. “We’re neighbors, and I thought it was time we met.”

“Oh,” said the boy. “Well, my parents are inside. Shall I tell them you’re here?”

“If you would,” Gudrun responded at once, and flashed a determined smile at Otto. “I won’t be long,” she told him, adding, “this time.”

Otto lifted his hands to show the trees and the sky that he was not accountable for the quirks of his employer. “I shouldn’t keep Hässlich standing more than fifteen minutes,” he warned her, pleased to have this one hold over her.

“I will be out before then,” Gudrun promised, and went into the house behind the boy.

The hall they entered was lined with bookshelves filled with all sorts of volumes in no order Gudrun could discern. It was a warm house, filled just now with the scent of roasting chickens. Somewhere ahead children were laughing together.

“Those are my sisters,” the boy explained. “They’re just children.”

Gudrun made no attempt to suppress the smile that came to her lips, though part of it was painful. There had been times when she was young when her Schloss had been filled with laughter instead of the somber builders and sickness.

The boy led her into a sitting room, saying as he opened the door, “One of the neighbors, Mother. She said she wanted to meet you.”

An attractive woman in her mid-thirties rose from a fashionable settee. The whole room was done in the Art Nouveau style, so that it seemed to Gudrun she had been brought into an artificial bower, and the woman’s dress, with its swirling pleated skirt and loose short robe caught something of the feel of the room, for it was the sort of clothes one would expect to wear outside rather than in the house. Her face was small and her dark hair was cut daringly short. “I’m afraid…”

Gudrun held out her hand. “I’m Gudrun Ostneige. We’re neighbors. I didn’t learn until a little while ago that you had moved into this house, and I was hoping you wouldn’t mind having me call.”

The woman took her hand. “I’m Amalie Schnaubel. This is Bruno”—she pointed to the boy who had admitted Gudrun to the house—“and the two girls there are Olympie and Hedda. There’s another boy around somewhere, and he’s Emmerich. I’m delighted to meet one of the neighbors at last.” There was a faint undertone of bitterness to this last statement, but her smile never faltered.

“I was hoping,” Gudrun said after the most minute of pauses, “that perhaps you would want to call on me when the weather is better. I’ve been quite isolated here in the mountains, and it would be a great pleasure to have company again.”

“That’s very kind of you. We’re so new here that we haven’t had time to get to know the others. I no doubt feel as isolated as you do.” Amalie’s dark eyes flashed once as if in suspicion.

“But you have your children, and they must keep you occupied,” Gudrun said, wondering why it was that Frau Schnaubel was so reserved behind her cordiality.

Amalie managed to laugh outright at that. “They do, most emphatically. I haven’t finished one canvas in the last three months. That’s what comes of having all of them home and no one to play with. It
is
hard being indoors day after day, but still…” She turned suddenly as the two girls burst out in renewed giggles. “If you’re doing something I wouldn’t approve of, stop it,” she said mildly, then gave her attention to Gudrun again. “There’s only that strange child at Schloss Saint-Germain, and we’ve only met her once.”

“A child at Schloss Saint-Germain?” Gudrun echoed. “When did that happen?”

“Around the first of December. When the owner showed up, they told me at the train station, no one from the Schloss would come for him. He was dressed in badly torn clothing and had just the child with him. He walked from the depot to Schloss Saint-Germain, and it was snowing quite badly. When he established his identity to the satisfaction of the housekeeper, everyone went in fear of being dismissed. It has not happened so far.” She smiled impishly. “In a place like this, we must look for every tidbit of news we can find. There is so little to occupy us.”

“Alas,” Gudrun said, nodding. “I’m surprised about Schloss Saint-Germain. All through my childhood no one ever saw the owner. It was kept in excellent condition, but never occupied.”

“Yes, that’s what we were told.” It was apparent that Amalie Schnaubel was more comfortable discussing the stranger than talking about herself or her family.

“And the child? A girl, I think you said?”

“A Polish girl, I think, or perhaps Russian. She’s the ward of the Graf. Don’t remind me that we’re not supposed to call them by their titles anymore. But wait until you see this man.” Amalie belatedly indicated a chair. “Do sit down, Frau Ostneige. I’m afraid there isn’t much to offer you, no coffee or pastries, but if you will wait a little while, then I can provide—”

“Oh, no, forgive me, but this must be a very brief call. I only wanted to introduce myself, Frau Schnaubel. My retainer is outside with the sleigh and he will be irate if I make him keep the horse standing too long. Another time, when you have an idle afternoon and are not taken up with your children. I didn’t mean to inconvenience you in any way. I see you have your hands full now, and I don’t want to overstay my welcome, since I have invited myself in.” She looked rather wistfully toward the giggling girls.

“Do you have children, Frau Ostneige?” Amalie asked politely.

“No,” Gudrun answered with a slight shake of her head. “No, my husband was hurt in the war, and so…”

“How unfortunate,” Amalie said, warming to her visitor in spite of herself.

“I feel as if I have spent the last six months cooped up in a very small box,” Gudrun said in an embarrassed rush. “It’s so good to know that I am not the only young woman living up here in the mountains.” Although she knew that proper social decorum called for her to leave now, she was reluctant to do so.

“I wish you could stay a bit longer,” Amalie said, as if sensing Gudrun’s thoughts, for she, too, was feeling the pressure of living in this remote place. “My husband, Simeon, is up at Schloss Saint-Germain at the moment, talking with the Graf, He should be back in an hour or so.” She watched Gudrun a moment. “Ostneige. I don’t really know the name. Where do you live?”

“At my family Schloss. As I mentioned, my husband is an invalid and so we have not been able to receive much company. My brother has occasional guests from München, but I hardly see them. We’re not far from Hausham. The Schloss is called Wolkighügel.” As she said the name, she saw Amalie Schnaubel’s features unaccountably harden. “What…?”

“And your brother. What is his name?” The words rapped out crisply as Amalie’s dark eyes narrowed.

“Maximillian. Maximillian Altbrunne. He’s more often in the village. Perhaps you’ve met…?” If they had, she could not imagine why nothing had been said to her.

“Altbrunne. Yes, indeed, we have met.” Her voice grew cold. “Is this some sort of joke. Frau Ostneige? Are you coming to see for yourself whether we live like animals or not? I gather you find it amusing to come into a Jewish household to see if we roast Christian children for supper.…”

“What are you saying?” Gudrun wondered aloud, appalled at the sudden turn this meeting had taken. What had begun as guarded good-will had degenerated into open hostility. “Frau Schnaubel, I’m afraid—”

“I’m not surprised. You’re very brave to come here, aren’t you?” She folded her arms, staring fixedly at Gudrun. “I hope you accomplished your mission, Frau Ostneige, and will have enough damning information to give Herr Altbrunnen. I’m not willing to let you remain here any longer, however, so whatever you came to do, I trust it is done.”

“But…” Gudrun started for the door and noticed as she went that the children had grown silent. “I don’t know why you’re speaking to me in this way, Frau Schnaubel. I do want to be your friend. Two women, out here in the mountains, it isn’t easy—”

“With the sort of company that’s invited to Wolkighügel, you can’t expect any of us to call there, can you?” Her rejection was absolute. “I fear I’ve kept you too long, Frau Ostneige. Your retainer must want to get his horse moving again.”

Gudrun stopped in the door, trying to salvage what little she could of this disastrous encounter. “I truly don’t know why you say these things, Frau Schnaubel. If someone from Wolkighügel has been discourteous, I wish you would tell me about it. I don’t allow my staff to be insulting to my neighbors.” Her face was filled with distress.

“And your brother, what of him? I take it he can speak his mind with impunity.” There was less rage in Amalie’s eyes now, although her guard was not in the least relaxed. “If you are actually unaware, as you claim to be, of what your brother is doing, then I think you should ask him a few questions, Frau Ostneige. You will have to forgive me if I assume that you are in his confidence.”

“I will ask him. And I thank you, whether or not you believe that,” Gudrun added before she bolted for the door. As she swung the front door inward, she heard the voices of the children behind her erupt in questions.

Otto was waiting, sunk deep in gloom. He looked up as Gudrun hurried out of the house, pausing to close the door behind her before hurrying toward the sleigh. “You were more than ten minutes. It isn’t good for the horse to stand in…” He had begun irascibly, then he saw the odd expression on Gudrun’s face and fell silent.

“Drive home, Otto,” Gudrun said as she climbed into the sleigh. “And while you drive, tell me what you know about these associates of Maxl’s who come to the house. They are my brother’s friends and they enjoy my hospitality, and yet I find I know nothing about them. I have discovered that they are not merely the scholars Maxl said they are.”

“Yes, Rudi,” Otto said wearily as he brought up the whip. He did not know where to start or how much Maxl would want him to say. “You spoke with Herr Schnaubel, then?”

“Herr Schnaubel is at Schloss Saint-Germain. I spoke with Frau Schnaubel—that is, until she found out where I lived, and then she was most determined that I should leave her home.” She pulled the furs up around her and frowned at the trees beside the road, her pretty face marred by unhappiness. “She mentioned Maxl, and assumes she knows something to his discredit and mine. She knew Wolkighügel by name and did not approve of it.”

Otto supposed that this would have happened eventually, and did his best not to be too upset by it. “Well, Maxl has not been particularly discreet.”

“That is not new. I did not know he had taken to involving the neighbors, however.” Her tone was sharper than usual and she did not give Otto any encouragement to excuse Maximillian’s behavior. “What has he been saying or doing that would cause Frau Schnaubel to order me out of her house?”

“Nothing directly I don’t think,” Otto said. “He’s stopped at the tavern now and again. You know, the Hirsch Furt in Hausham. He meets his friends there and they talk. There’s nothing wrong in that.” He had driven Maximillian to just such a meeting only ten days ago. There had been a new man from München with a note of introduction. The messenger had worn an old uniform tunic, with officer’s tags on the collar.

“And do they speak against the Jews in the tavern, is that it?” Gudrun’s voice was flat. “Why has he said nothing to me about it? He uses my Schloss and lives out of my larder. He has told me simply that the group does certain esoteric studies and research into Teutonic history. There was no mention of Jews.”

“He doesn’t discuss it much,” Otto agreed, hoping that this would exonerate him from any censure. “He said that he felt you did not care much for politics, and that this was not an area where women have any real talents. He wanted to spare you any demands you might feel toward his guests. He was sympathetic to your difficult situation, Rudi, with Herr Ostneige so ill.” He had to check Hässlich as they rounded a sharp corner; the sleigh swayed, the runners sending up fountains of loose snow, then steadied as the Holstein began to trot down the familiar road toward Wolkighügel.