Tempting Fate (67 page)

You may be pleased to know that I have actually received an invitation for the holidays. Phillippe Timbres, who was introduced to me by Professor de Montalia, has asked me to spend the Christmas season with his brother and their family near Orleans. I have never seen that city—I have hardly been outside of Paris—and Monsieur Timbres tells me that I will enjoy it. He was an officer in the Great War, which is how. Professor de Montalia came to meet him. He left the Army over a year ago and now is working for Joseph et Dognac. You may have heard of the company. They are builders, and although their major work is offices, there is a division that specializes in restorations of older homes and châteaux, and that is the part of the business he works in. You will doubt’ less wonder why I have accepted the invitation. At first, I wondered myself. But I have seen a fair amount of Phillippe Timbres, and I admit that I like what I see. We are neither of us young, and our lives have been touched with tragedy. I could not feel for this man as I did for Leonid, but that is no matter. Should he decide that he does want to marry me—and he has suggested the possibility more than once—I will know that my life will be pleasant with him. He has two orphaned nephews who are at the moment living with his surviving brother, and has said that should we eventually decide to marry, he would like to raise these two children. One is thirteen and the other nine. It would be delightful to have children again. At my age I am hardly in a position to take on an infant, but two youngsters are another matter.

All that is for the future, however, and I assure you with all my heart that I look forward to seeing you again in March, as you mentioned in your last letter that you would be in Paris then, on your way to London. You are not as much a part of my life as Monsieur Timbres is, but what you give I have had from no other, and I do not wish to be deprived of that unique love you share with me. Should I decide to marry Phillippe Timbres, I will not shut you entirely out of my life. Should you wish to stay away from me, that is another matter, but as long as you are willing to seek me out, be certain that I will welcome you. I doubt I will mention that to Monsieur Timbres, though he is not one to be ruled by his jealousies. I am aware that there have been other women in his life. It would be ridiculous if there had not been. He knows that I have been married and that there has been one lover beyond my husband. I have not told him who, but he does know that it was my lover who found me in a slum and brought me out of it, and for that he is grateful. In many ways, he is very French, which I suppose should not astonish me.

Professor de Montalia, as you probably already know, is in the Middle East on another dig. She left at the end of September and does not intend to return until October next year. She has said that her work there is promising, and she wishes to take advantage of the comparative peace while it lasts. We have decided to exchange letters at two-week intervals so that neither of us need ever be far from news of the other. She is of the opinion that isolation is dangerous in these times, and doubtless she is correct. I have agreed to forward letters to her, and should you wish it, I will provide you with her address and the means by which to reach her. The expedition has a small aeroplane at its disposal and with this to fly from the dig to Damascus, mail should not be too long in transit.

Your ward sounds wonderful. How fortunate for both of you. Not every child would be comfortable with you, Count, no matter how circumspect you are. A girl like Laisha, however, will thrive in your company. When she is ready to enter society, I hope you will bring her to Paris so I may meet her. If I have decided to be Madame Timbres, then I will ask for the pleasure of chaperoning her one evening, either to a concert or one of those dreadful women’s salons. Don’t be troubled that she has not reached her true beauty yet. Give her another ten years and you will be astonished. Those women who emerge from the chrysalis of youth in their twenties and thirties have their beauty for the rest of their lives, and are not like those fragile blossoms that are faded before they reach twenty-five. Slender girls are popular at the moment, so that should present no difficulty, as it might have not long ago. For the rest, you have only to wait a little time, which, as you remarked to me, will pass all too quickly.

I must close now, but not before I wish you the joys of this year’s end. Until now, I have found it hard to think of the holidays, but with Monsieur Timbres’s family offering their hospitality, it does not depress me as it has before. I am not so blind as to assume that the stay will be totally without sadness, yet I believe that there will be more joy than grief, which, I have learned, is better than most of us can wish for.

With my love and my prayers,

Devotedly,

Irina

8

Gudrun looked up with a puzzled frown as Otto held out the calling card. “Helmut Rauch? Are you certain he wishes to see me? Maximillian is not here.”

Otto nodded slowly, as he did everything slowly these days. His body had sagged, his steps were dragging, and his face had slipped into drooping folds as if it were made of wax and had been left in the sun too long. “He was most insistent.”

“I can’t imagine why he should wish to see me,” Gudrun said, thinking aloud. She got up from her desk. “Has Miroslav finished with cleaning out the gutters?”

“All but two, Rudi.” Otto gave a sigh. “He is not as quick about it as he used to be. He says that heights dizzy him. They never used to,” he ended querulously.

“He’s older, Otto,” Gudrun said sensibly. We’re all older, she thought. Except, perhaps, Franchot Ragoczy: she was still uncertain about him.

“Herr Rauch seemed impatient,” Otto observed by way of a hint.

“In a moment, Otto. I have a letter to finish.” The letter was to her second cousin in Berlin, asking if he would be interested in purchasing some of the older furniture at Wolkighügel.

“He told me it is urgent,” Otto complained.

“And I will be with him directly,” Gudrun said with asperity. “I am not at that man’s beck and call.” She did not want to see Helmut Rauch; the man frightened her with his sudden demands and darting eyes that would not hold hers for more than a few seconds at a time.

“Very well.” Otto drew himself up so that Gudrun would know he was offended. He turned and went out of the room.

Gudrun sat for another five minutes, her hand to her head, staring at the fireplace on the far side of the room. She had had a fire burning there an hour ago, but it was little but embers now and she did not know if there was wood enough to spare from the kitchen to rekindle the flames here. Frau Bürste would never complain, but Gudrun knew that the woman often skimped in a manner that distressed her. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she would have Miroslav chop down three or more of the old trees near Maximillian’s cabin. That way, her brother would have fuel and the main house could also be kept warm. She thought of Schloss Saint-Germain, with its new gas-fueled stove, its generator that kept the electricity working all year long, and sighed. It would be a long time before such luxuries could come to Wolkighügel. She had got one of the huge water heaters that attached to the kitchen stove, and so there was always hot water now, but the rest of it—the electricity was out now, as it often was in the winter, and kerosene lamps stood on the tables in the hall, lit even in the afternoon because of the darkness of this winter day. There was so much to do with this huge house! If Miroslav had not been willing to climb to the snowy roof and chop the ice and debris out of the gutters, then the eaves might have been damaged or broken by the time the thaw came. If her cousin in Berlin did not wish to buy anything from her, she would have to think of another way to pay for the various repairs that the whole estate needed so badly. This last thought turned her back to her half-finished letter, and she devoted the next few minutes to the careful wording of her request. When she was satisfied with what she had written, she addressed the envelope set aside for it, sealed it, and affixed the stamp. Each gesture was treasured because it was a delay. She should have had the courage to deny herself to Helmut Rauch, she thought. The trouble was that the man was so much in Maximillian’s company that he had come to assume that he must naturally be entirely welcome at Wolkighügel. She turned up the watch on her brooch and saw that she had been here alone for more than a quarter-hour—Rauch had probably decided that she was being deliberately rude. She took the letter and went into the hall.

Rauch was in the library, his expression stiff with disapproval. He rose in grudging courtesy, favoring Gudrun with a minuscule inclination of his head which she was free to regard as a bow if she wished. “I hope I do not disturb you, Frau Ostneige,” he said icily.

“As to that, Herr Rauch, you did come at an awkward moment, and I could not leave what I was doing just at once. It was good of you to wait.” That, she decided, would make what few amends were possible.

“You realize that a day like this, it is not easy to call on anyone. The snow is deep, and mild as it is at the present, there could well be more snow by nightfall. I had not intended to linger here.” He folded his arms and remained standing.

“Gracious,” Gudrun said with a nervous titter, “you sound most serious, Herr Rauch.” She took a chair near the fire, grateful for the warmth it gave. She had not realized how cold she was.

“It is necessary that we have a brief discussion, Frau Ostneige. From what your brother tells me, you have not yet expressed a great deal of interest in his activities.” He stared at her an instant; then his eyes flicked away, going now to the portraits over the door, the books in the glass-fronted case, the bound manuscripts in the far shelves. Looking at Gudrun disturbed him. “Has he told you of our mission?”

“No, Herr Rauch, he has not. Nor have I encouraged him,” she added pointedly.

“That was not completely wise,” he said in an admonitory tone.

“Wasn’t it?” Her chair was old, leather-upholstered. Frau Bürste had recently rubbed it with an oiled rag so that it glowed. If it were not for her distressing guest, she would think herself lucky to spend a few hours here in the library curled up in this fine old chair with a book to amuse her.

“You should be concerned. Everyone should be concerned,” He frowned, annoyed at Gudrun’s lack of response. “You do not seem to be aware that we are now at a crucial moment in our history, Frau Ostneige, and those who vacillate will be judged by future generations as laggards and worse.”

“I doubt I will have future generations, Herr Rauch,” she said softly. “I have no children and am not likely to have them.”

“There! You see! You are speaking as if your life is done, and there is no more need for you to fulfill your woman’s role. It is precisely this ignorance that must be combated now before we can achieve our dreams. It is more than just the NSDAP or the Thule Gesellschaft. Together these forces will once again weld Deutschland into a formidable unity.” He slammed the flat of his hand onto the table and leaned forward.

“It sounds far-reaching and ambitious,” Gudrun said quietly, attempting to determine how long she would have to listen to his ranting before she could excuse herself.

“It is far more than that. It is the future of the world we are discussing, Meine Frau. You must see beyond the limitations that have blinded most of this country to its strengths and obligations. The Vaterland has been shamed and humiliated long enough by those decadent popinjays of France and Britain. It is the destiny of Deutschland to lead the world, not slink in the shadow of others. Now is the time for decisive action. There are over twenty-seven thousand men in the NSDAP. All of them burn with the light of their mission.
Our
mission. We of the Thule Gesellschaft and Bruderschaft have given our powers into the service of the great ideal. It isn’t enough.” He strode down the room, growing more enthusiastic. “You cannot imagine what we can accomplish, given the opportunity.”

“I look forward to learning more about it in time,” Gudrun said as if she were speaking to one of her old and wayward uncles.

“I dislike that condescending tone, Frau Ostneige!” Helmut declared emphatically. “This is not some idle fancy I am telling you of, but a plan that will alter the face of the world and bring Deutschland back into the position of prominence that is rightfully his. The Vaterland is not so called for amusement. It is the father of the world, and for that reason must guide the other nations in their growth. You do not know how many look to us for discipline and strength. You find it difficult to believe, do you?” His accusation was very sharp.

“Herr Rauch—” Gudrun began, but he cut her short.

“There have been funds sent to us. From those who are the rightful masters of Russia, from the financial giants of the United States of America, from titled men in Britain … the list is a long and impressive one. Every encouragement is given us, both in money and in advice. We are not asking for the power to lead again only to satisfy our besmirched honor, but in response to the pleadings of the entire civilized world.” His face was flushed now, as if he were slightly drunk.

“That may be the case, Herr Rauch. There is very little I can do one way or the other.” She felt stifled in this warm, restful room. Rauch was filling it up, pressing the air out of it and out of her.

“This is the very belief that must be obliterated from our thoughts. We must remember how much we have done in the past. You think now of your widowhood and you devote yourself to your husband’s memory—”

“I don’t think this is any—” Gudrun began, as if she had been insulted.

“Which is the great strength of our women, who submit themselves to the will of their husbands and the Vaterland. You do not go in search of the tawdry excitements that have been foisted off upon us by the decaying cultures of other countries. You have maintained yourself as a proper Deutschen must. It is well-done of you. It is from women like yourself that our new country must take the example. No one will be shocked by the sight of a Deutsche in indecent French clothes, smoking cigarettes and dancing to lewd music. Our women shall be an example to every woman in the world. You conduct yourself with modesty. You have a bit too much of the air of command, but doubtless that is the result of the unnatural burdens you have had to carry because of your husband’s long years of ill health. With the proper husband to care for you and guard you, this unbecoming behavior will be gone and all your native sweetness and submission will flower again.”