Tempting Fate (50 page)

“No, I haven’t. Is there someone you wish to call?” She would take delight in sending them into Hausham to the stationmaster for such a chore.

“No, it is only that if you have one, we would have to ask that you do not use it quite yet.” Simault favored her with a nasty grin and went back to slicing the roast beef.

In the hallway, Gudrun found she was trembling. Her temples rang and her neck was stiff from being held erect all day. She glanced toward the hall to the kitchen, wondering if she should consult with Frau Bürste now, or wait until she had relieved herself and taken three aspirin. She had not yet made up her mind when she heard the sound of horse’s hooves coming up the drive. It was all she could do to keep from screaming.

Otto came in from the rear of the house. “I’ll take care of it, Rudi. Don’t, you bother with it now.” As the horse neared the front entrance, Otto pulled the door wide and placed himself in the middle of it, doing his best to be imposing.

Gudrun had not moved, and now she stared beyond Otto into the full radiance of the sunlight, where a well-conformed gray horse stood as his rider dismounted. A moment later Franchot Ragoczy handed the reins to Otto.

“I won’t be long,” he promised the servant as he stepped into the entry hall. He was dressed for riding in a claret-colored hacking coat, with buff-colored riding breeches and roll-top pullover. His high boots were fine black leather. In his hand he carried a small wreath of cypress, rue, and white roses.

“You,” Gudrun said, taking a step toward him.

“I am sorry I did not come earlier, but yesterday we had French officers inspecting every nook and cranny of Schloss Saint-Germain.” He bowed over her hand, brushing it with his lips. “You have my sympathy, Madame. You have come to the end of a long, fruitless ordeal and no doubt having it finished is as difficult to accept as the death of your husband itself.” He straightened up. “I’ve brought this for you.”

She took the wreath from him. “How thoughtful. Most of the tributes were at the funeral.”

His dark eyes were sad. “My dear, flowers mean nothing to the dead. The tributes should be for the living. Whatever grief your husband knew is over now. You are the one who must live.” He added kindly, “It is a little thing.”

No one had said that the flowers brought to the church were for her, and for that reason what he told her seemed strangely improper, but she could not find it in herself to reprimand him. “I am grateful, Graf.” Impulsively she lifted her veil so that she could see him more clearly. “I thought that since you were not at the funeral, you did not intend to—”

“I never attend funerals, not anymore,” he said rather sharply. “I haven’t been to one since a much-loved friend of mine died in Florence. That was many years ago.” How that city had mourned, he remembered, all draped in red and black for Laurenzo.

“I understand,” she said, because she did not.

He seemed to know this. “I have seen too many of those I love die, Madame, and I mark their passage in my heart, not the earth.” He bowed again, but did not take her hand. “If there is anything I may do for you, you have only to send word.”

“That’s very kind.” It was her unthinking response, and when she had said it, she was dissatisfied. “I will let you know. At the moment I can’t think of anything, but probably I will discover any number of things that I would appreciate your help on.”

He stepped back and was about to leave when she called out after him.

“Graf Ragoczy, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in colors before.” It struck her as odd that this, of all times, would be the occasion when he would not dress in black.

“Oh, I have a few things that are not black. In this instance, I chose these garments so that I would not be stopped by the other French inspectors. One of the groups they are looking for apparently wears all black or all brown. It becomes tedious to answer the same questions five or six times in eight kilometers.” He shrugged slightly. “This is more convenient, at least for the moment.”

She smiled at his explanation, but under the smile there was dread. “You said that there were French inspectors at your Schloss.”

“Yes. Why?”

“They are here now. They may not be the same ones, but two French officers…” She gestured vaguely toward the door to the smaller drawing room.

“I see. That is their Citroën in the drive?” He did not expect an answer from her. “It is … unfortunate that they could not wait to speak with you.”

“They are worried,” she said, not quite meeting his dark eyes.

“It doesn’t excuse them,” he said in a tightened tone. “Would you like me to speak to them? As I am a foreigner, I have a few advantages in dealing with them.”

“Danke. No.” She would so much rather have said yes.

“If you are certain…” He hesitated, offering her the chance to change her mind. “It would please me to do this for you, Madame.”

She shook her head more quickly, fearing that if she spoke at all she would weep. What was it about this man that disarmed her so? She ducked her head to him, “I must wash my hands and return to…” One hand turned in the direction of the smaller drawing room. “Excuse me.”

“Of course. I did not want to intrude.” He gave her a slight, curiously majestic bow and turned away from her. He motioned to Otto as he went toward the open front door. As he passed the old servant, he said in an undervoice to him, “Will you let me know if Madame Ostneige requires anything? She may not ask for it, and I would wish to aid her, if she needs aid.”

Otto straightened himself. “That is a kindness of you, Herr Graf. I will keep it in mind.” He thought as he spoke that it should be Maximillian speaking such words, not this stranger from up the mountain.

“I appreciate that, Otto,” Ragoczy said courteously, handing him a Swiss ten-franc coin as a doucement. Then he took the reins and mounted.

“Herr Graf,” Otto called out as Ragoczy was about to ride away down the drive. “I have not seen that breed before. What is he?” It had been years since he had had the opportunity, no matter how brief, to discuss horseflesh.

“He’s a cross; half Orlov, half Lippizaner. I’ve been breeding them for a while. They have excellent stamina, good manners, and beautiful gaits. It was good of you to notice him.” He kept his seat with the ease of long expert horsemanship. He shifted his weight and the gray bounded forward. As Ragoczy glanced back over his shoulder, he saw Gudrun’s pale face watching him from a second-story window.

She did not know why it made her so sad to see him leave, but as she stared out the window, she wanted to fling it wide and shout to him, asking him to come back. But that would not do. She was a respectable widow and there were French officers waiting to speak to her. She had certain obligations to her family and to Jürgen’s memory. She drew off her gloves and set them on her dressing table. When she had been young, there had been a chambermaid to tend all her clothes, but now she looked after them herself. Carefully she removed her hat and set it beside the gloves. Her short-cut hair was somewhat disarranged, and she found a comb and set about neatening her coiffure. Her black dress was correct, and she still had a mourning necklace among her few jewels. She had found it yesterday, and she took it now from its velvet-lined case, admiring for a moment the fine matched pearls and carved onyx beads which hung in three long strands from an ornate silver clasp. As she stared into the mirror, she dropped the necklace over her head, regarding the effect critically. It struck the right note, she thought, severe enough but elegant. Unbidden, an image of Graf Ragoczy came to her mind, in his usual garments of black and white. His appearance was always correct, always concinnous. So she would borrow a page from his book, she thought as she made a minor adjustment in the necklace so that the clasp sat on her left shoulder. The small pearl drops she wore at her ears went well enough with the necklace that she did not bother to change them. From one of the drawers she took a silk shawl and draped it around her shoulders, liking the shimmer of the steel gray against the black wool. Her only concern was that it might seem to the Frenchmen that she was a bit too well-turned-out for a woman who had been hard-pressed by the recent monetary debacle. It would not be correct to apply cosmetics to her face now, but she could not resist wishing that she might rouge her cheeks and lips and put a hint of blue on her eyelids. That would be for later, she promised herself, and went out of her room toward the bathroom at the end of the hall.

When she came back downstairs ten minutes later, she found Otto waiting for her in the entry hall. “Is something the matter?”

“Not precisely. I was worried about you, Rudi.” His old eyes were not as alert as they had been, and she could see that there was a tremor in his hands. “You need looking after, and there is no one to do it.”

“There’s Ragoczy,” she pointed out, laughing a bit.

Otto let out a long, exasperated breath. “A foreigner, Rudi. He isn’t one of us. You should not need to seek among foreigners for assistance.”

“But since no one else is willing, let’s be satisfied with him.” She felt a moment of unexplained excitement possess her; then she exerted herself and put such nonsense out of her mind. “The Frenchmen?”

“Still in the smaller drawing room. They asked for a second stein of beer.” He planted his hands on his hips. “They say that there is nothing to compare with French wines, but they drink our beer willingly enough.”

“Which Frau Bürste provided?” she asked a bit anxiously. It would be difficult if they had been refused this privilege.

“Natürlich. I was attending to guests at Wolkighügel before you were in long skirts, my girl, and I’ll thank you to remember it.” Otto’s bluster was meant in play, and for that reason, he made a great show of his indignation in the hope that Gudrun would laugh.

“Don’t hector me, Otto,” Gudrun said, cutting the old man’s performance short. “I am not in any state of mind to enjoy it.”

“It was said in jest,” he explained helplessly even as he walked beside her to the door to the smaller drawing room. “I did not intend…”

“It’s all right, Otto,” she said, her voice soft with fatigue. “I will deal with these men as best I can, and then perhaps I will have a little time to myself.” She realized that she had left the wreath Ragoczy had given her hanging on the door handle to her room. “Would you find the wreath for me? It’s upstairs. Put it over the mantel in the dining room. It is appropriate for there, don’t you think?”

“Maxl will ask about it,” Otto warned.

“Then tell him. It was a generous gift from a neighbor. What can my brother have to say against that?” Without waiting for an answer to her question, she went to deal with Simault and Juenecouer.

She found out that evening, when Maximillian returned, not quite sober, and in a rare mood of belligerence. Upon learning of the French visit, he railed at his sister while she sat self-contained and silent.

“You actually let them roam through this building, looking into closests and drawers, as if we were irresponsible children? You let them do that? Rudi, what was
wrong
with you? Don’t you understand anything at all? The French are our sworn enemies. They will use any method they can think of to humiliate us and shame us. You aided them in that when you let them inspect the Schloss. Inspect! You don’t know what filth there is in their minds.” He roamed about the little salon adjoining the dining room where coffee was served after dinner. As yet the meal had not been eaten, although Frau Bürste had informed Gudrun that it was ready.

“I had no choice in the matter, Maxl,” Gudrun said patiently, as she had done three times already. “I am not about to stand in armor at the door and repel them. It would make a great deal more trouble for us than their inspection has done.”

“How could it? You let yourself succumb to your fear and permitted them to violate this place and every rule of decency men honor. I suppose that if they had demanded it you would have opened your legs to them, too.” As soon as he saw her expression, he knew he had gone too far. “Rudi—”

“That is enough!” she said, getting to her feet “I have endured my husband’s funeral today, and having French officers rummaging through my home, but I will not stand for this treatment from you!” She was astonished at the strength of her anger. “When I returned from the funeral, the Frenchmen were already here. What was I to do—throw them out? Who was to help me? You were gone off with your friends—”

“You said you wanted to be alone,” he reminded her petulantly.

“Otto is not one to grapple with visitors, and neither Frau Bürste nor I have any skills in battle. Herr Ragoczy offered to speak to them for me, but I refused. They had already been given my hospitality. I could not alter my position without causing a great deal of awkwardness and suspicion—”

“Ragoczy? When was that impudent foreigner here?” Maximillian’s face was flushed and his blond hair hung lankly across his forehead. He brushed it away with his fingers.

“That impudent foreigner came to give me a tribute wreath, which was very kind of him. He offered to help me, if I needed it.” She started toward the dining-room door. “Come. Dinner will be cold if we don’t sit down soon.”

“I’m not finished discussing this with you, Gudrun…” Maximillian told her, blocking her way. “I don’t like that man coming here.”

“And I do,” she responded tersely, pushing past him.

He lounged in the door as she took her seat at the head of the table. “Like that, is it? A little soon after Jürgen’s demise, don’t you think?”

“If accepting the offer of help from a neighbor makes me a trollop in your eyes, then I suggest that you provide the aid he has offered.” Gudrun was holding her emotions in check as she spoke. She took her napkin and spread it meticulously in her lap, then rang the bell beside her carved crystal wineglass. “Sit down, Maxl. We will talk more after dinner if you insist, but I haven’t the heart for it now.”

Maximillian took the place at the far end of the table, so that his back was to Ragoczy’s wreath. His blue eyes burned at her. “If you think I will let you make a fool of yourself over that man, Rudi—”