The Judas kiss

The English Governess

On the following Monday the carriage came to collect me and my travelling bag. I was leaving some of my things at Daisy's and was in a fever of excitement when I presented myself at the Schloss and was taken to the same small room in which I had been interviewed. It was not long before I was joined by Frau Strelitz.

"Ah, Fraulein Ayres," she said, "the Countess is very eager to meet you. Her apartments are on the third floor. There is a schoolroom there and you will have a room in her apartments. She has a governess. You will work out with her the time of her studies, but the Grand Duke has stressed that her English must be improved. That is the most important of her studies at this time. The Baron, her future husband, who will be our ruler in due course when the Grand Duke dies—but that, God willing, will not be for some time yet—I was saying that the Baron speaks good English and she must do the same. When he visits her he will expect improvements."

"You may rest assured that I will do my best to see that that is brought about."

"I am sure you will. You may have some difficulty with Countess Freya. She is a high-spirited girl and naturally her awareness of her position has made her somewhat—well, expecting to have her own way. It is a great responsibility which is yours, Fraulein Ayres, and you do not seem a great deal older than the Countess."

She was looking at me dubiously. Perhaps my hair was not quite so severely controlled. I could feel it beginning to work out of its confinement.

"I have travelled, Frau Strelitz, and I am sure that a lady of the world such as yourself will understand that the acquisition of knowledge is not necessarily a matter of age."

"You are right in that, Fraulein. Well, I wish you good fortune. I must tell you that if the Countess does not take to you she would make it very difficult for you to continue here."

"I suppose that situation arises with any governess."

"And it is not as though you are dependent on this post for your livelihood."

"I shall pursue it with all the more zeal," I said. "With me it will be a labour of love rather than necessity."

I think I impressed her a little, for her manner warmed towards me.

"Very well," she said. "If you will follow me I will show you your room and introduce you to your pupil."

The Grand Schloss was worthy of its name. It was built on a hill overlooking the town, of which it commanded a good view from all its windows. There were liveried servants everywhere, it seemed to me, and I was taken through galleries past rooms at which the guards were stationed and finally to the apartments of the Countess.

"The Countess has occupied these since she came from Kollenitz. That was, of course, after the death of Baron Rudolph when she became affianced to Baron Sigmund."

I nodded. "It was then, of course, that she became so important," went on Frau Strelitz, "for both the Margrave of Kollenitz and the Grand Duke are eager to unite the margravate and the Duchy by this marriage."

Frau Strelitz paused and knocked at a door. A voice called, "Enter!" and we went in. A middle-aged woman rose and came towards us.

"Fraulein Kratz," said Frau Strelitz, "this is Fraulein Ayres."

Fraulein Kratz had a pale lined face and a rather harassed look. I felt sorry for her at once and could see that she was surprised by my youth.

A young girl had risen from the table and she came towards me somewhat imperiously.

"Your Highness," said Frau Strelitz, "may I present Fraulein Ayres, your English governess?"

I bowed and said in English, "I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Countess."

She replied in German, "So you have come to teach me to speak English as the English do."

"Which is, of course, the best way to speak it," I continued in English.

She was very fair—so fair in fact that her eyelashes and eyebrows were scarcely perceptible. Her eyes were light blue, not large enough for beauty, particularly as she lacked the darker lashes which would have enhanced them; the very lightness of these gave her a look of perpetual surprise which I found rather endearing. She had a long, somewhat aquiline nose and a very firm mouth. Her thick fair hair was worn in braids and she looked rather like a petulant schoolgirl. I was wondering what effect I had on her.

"I hope you will be a good pupil," I went on.

She laughed, for she understood my English very well. "I expect I shall be a bad one. I am often—am I not, Kratzkin?"

"The Countess is really very bright," said Fraulein Kratz.

The Countess laughed. "You spoilt it with the 'really,' didn't she Fraulein Ayres? That gives it all away."

"Well, Fraulein Ayres," put in Frau Strelitz, "you and Fraulein Kratz will make your arrangements about lessons. Shall I take you to your room, and later you can settle things between you."

"I shall take Fraulein Ayres to her room," announced the Countess.

"Your Highness ..."

"My Highness," mimicked the Countess, "will have it so. Come, Fraulein, we have to get to know each other, do we not, if we are to converse in your abominable language."

"You mean my beautiful language, of course, Countess," I said.

She laughed. "I am going to take her. Class is dismissed. Kratzkin and Frau Strelitz, you may leave us."

I was somewhat appalled by the imperious manner of my pupil, but I felt my spirits rising. I could see that we were going to have some interesting encounters.

"Have her bags sent up at once," ordered the Countess. "I want to see what she has brought." She laughed at me. "I come from Kollenitz where they are rough and ready in their manners. We are not as cultivated as they are here in Bruxenstein. Have you gathered that, Fraulein Ayres?"

"I am beginning to."

That made her laugh.

"Come on," she said. "I have to talk to you, don't I?"

"In English," I said, "and I see no reason why we should not begin right away."

"Well, I do. You are merely a governess. I am the Countess, the Grand Duchess Elect. So you had better take care."

"On the contrary, it is you who have to take care."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I am a lady of independent means. I do not need to stay here. I am doing it because the idea appeals to me. It is not a case of earning my living. I think I should make that clear from the start."

She stared at me. Then she began to laugh again.

The two women were still hovering in the doorway and she cried out, "You heard me tell you to go. Leave at once. I will look after the English governess."

I smiled apologetically at Frau Strelitz. "It is good that we should talk together," I said. "I shall refuse to speak to the Countess except in English, as I have decided that that is a rule of paramount importance."

The young girl was too surprised to argue with me and I felt I had won the first round. I had also won the admiration of poor harassed Kratzkin and the approval of Frau Strelitz. But it was the Countess with whom I had to deal.

"This is your room," she said, flinging open a door. "I am at the end of this corridor. I have finer apartments, of course, but this is not bad for a governess."

"I daresay I shall find it adequate."

"Far better than you are accustomed to, no doubt," she said.

"In fact no. I was brought up in a large manor house which I think on the whole was every bit as luxurious as your schloss."

"And you really are doing all this ... for fun?"

"You could call it that."

"You are not very old, are you?"

"I am experienced in the ways of the world."

"Are you? I wish I were. I'm not nearly as experienced as I should like to be."

"It comes with the years."

"How old are you?"

"I shall be eighteen in April."

"I am fifteen. There is not much difference."

"Actually there is a great deal. The next four years will be some of the most important of your life."

"Why?"

"Because one grows out of girlhood into womanhood."

"I shall be married next year."

"So I gathered."

"People talk about us a lot, don't they?"

"They know certain facts."

"I wish you wouldn't keep talking in English."

"It is what I am here for."

"It restricts the conversation. I want to know so much about you and I can't always understand as I want to if you will speak in English."

"It will be an incentive for you to master the language."

"You talk just like a governess. I have had quite a number but they never stay very long. I'm a difficult person. I've never had one like you."

"It will be a change for you."

"I don't suppose you'll stay long."

"Only while you need me, of course."

"I daresay you'll leave before that. I am not easy, you know."

"I have gathered that."

"Poor Kratzkin is terrified of me. Frau Strelitz is a bit, too."

"I don't think you should look so smug about that."

"Why not?"

"The fact that you make things uncomfortable for them should not make you glow with satisfaction. It is easy, is it not, to score over those who cannot reply?"

"Why don't they reply then?"

"Because they are employed here."

"Shall I score over you?"

"Most definitely not."

"Why not?"

"Because I am not dependent on pleasing you. If you don't like me you can tell me to get out, and if I don't like you I can go with equal ease."

She looked at me in astonishment. Then she smiled slowly. "What's your name?"

"Fraulein Ayres."

"I mean your first name."

"Anne."

"I shall call you that."

"What is yours?"

"You know. Everybody knows. I'm the Countess Freya of Kollenitz."

"Freya. That's one of the goddesses."

"The goddess of beauty," she said complacently. "Did you know that when Thor lost his hammer the giant, Thrym, would only give it back if Freya came to the land of the giants as his bride?"

"I did. And Thor dressed as Freya and went to the land of the giants and got his hammer back. Those legends used to be told to me by my governess. She went often to the Black Forest for her holidays. She had a German mother."

"So you had a governess too. Was she nice? Did you like her?"

"She was very nice and I liked her."

"You were a good girl, I expect."

"Not always. But we were always well-mannered."

"Who were we?"

"My sister and I." I felt myself flush a little and she was quick to notice.

"Where is your sister now?"

"She died."

"That makes you sad, doesn't it?"

"Very sad."

"Tell me about your governess."

I told her all I could remember of Miss Elton and her family.

She was very interested but I noticed that her mind flitted from one thing to another very quickly. She had seen my bags. "Are you going to unpack?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"I'll watch you."

And she did, as I took my clothes out and hung them up. She made comments on them as I did so. "That's ugly. That's not so bad."

I said: "I see what you mean about Kollenitz manners!" which sent her into peals of laughter. There was a book lying on the top of my case and she seized it. She read slowly with a strong German accent, "The Poems of Robert Browning."

I said: "I can see that we shall have to work hard on your accent."

The book opened naturally at a certain page and there was a reason for it, for I had often turned to that particular poem.

"Pippa's Song," she read out slowly.

" 'The year's at the spring And day's at the morn—'

"Oh, I can't read this. Poetry's very difficult."

I took the book from her and read the poem aloud. There was a slight tremor in my voice when I reached the last lines.

" 'God's in his Heaven-

All's right with the world.'"

I shut the book. She was looking at me intently. Then I smiled slowly and she returned the smile.

I thought: It's going to be all right. I'm going to like my little Countess.

The next few days were crowded with new impressions. To the surprise of the servants, the Countess and I got on remarkably well. I think this may have been due to a certain aloofness I was able to display, which was the result of my independence and the fact that I could, at any moment, leave if I wished without any financial considerations— which affected my manner and hers. I interested her as she interested me. She liked to be with me and wanted to neglect her other studies for the sake, as she rather unctuously said, of 'improving my English.' It was not difficult for me because there were no lessons to prepare. She had been grounded in the language and it was only conversation that she needed, so we were able to talk on various subjects, and when she made a mistake I would point it out to her.

Sometimes I would say to her, "Shouldn't you be with Fraulein Kratz?"

She would grimace. "Oh, I want to get on with my English. That is the most important. Who cares about mathematics—silly stuff anyway. Who cares about history? What does it matter what kings and queens did years ago? I can't change that, can I? I really do feel that I need to get on with my English."

I replied to that, "You forget that I must have my free times. You are encroaching on them."

I think it was rare for her to consider anyone but herself, but she did become thoughtful and went back to the schoolroom rather subdued.

I was flattered. When I visited Daisy I heard that Hans had been told by the comptroller of the household that they were amazed by my success with the Countess. It was very gratifying.

So we were together a great deal and I think, in a way, becoming friends. Life in the royal household was not exactly what I had expected. We were very much segregated and although two weeks had passed since my arrival, I had never once had a glimpse of the Grand Duke. The turret in which we had our apartments was quite separate from the royal apartments, and although there was much arriving and departing of emissaries and such like, this affected us not at all. It was like living in the wing of a country house-part of the main residence and yet completely cut off from it.

Freya and I walked in the grounds of the schloss; we rode together; she was a good horsewoman but I could compare favourably with her.

Once she said with a grudging admiration, "You can do everything."

She was always soberly dressed when she rode out and we always had to take two grooms with us, which irked her. I remarked that they were very discreet and kept their distance. "They had better," she said, her eyes flashing.

We rode through the forest together and she told me stories which had been passed down through the ages. She showed me an old ruined schloss where some baroness was said to have walled up her husband's mistress. "She said she wanted a new room added, and when the workmen were making it, she brought this beautiful girl to them and made them wall her in. They say you can still hear the girl's screams on certain nights."

She showed me the Klingen Rock with the ravine far below. "They used to take people out there and invite them to throw themselves over—to avoid a worse fate."

"You have some very pleasant customs in Bruxenstein."

"All people have them," retorted Freya. "They don't talk about them, though, and this was long ago."

"Klingen Schloss once belonged to a robber baron who used to waylay travellers, capture them and hold them to ransom. He used to chop off their fingers one by one and send them to their relatives, and with each finger the ransom was increased, and if the ransom wasn't paid they would be thrown from the rock ... to get rid of them."

"It's horrible."

"The gods are nicer," admitted Freya, and her eyes glowed when she talked of Thor. "He was strong ... the god of thunder." He was her favourite among the gods. "He had red hair and a red beard. He was the strongest of them all and very gentle, but when he was angry sparks flew out of his eyes."

"I hope he did not get angry often. Getting angry is foolish. It never helps."

"Don't you ever get angry, Fraulein Anne?"

"Oh yes—now and then. Fortunately I am not Thor, so you have no need to fear the sparks."

She laughed. She was constantly laughing in my company. I noticed how the servants would look at us when they heard her, and there was no doubt that I was getting a reputation for knowing how to handle the Countess.

I did understand that she had lived in a rarefied atmosphere and that her position had set her apart; she had known few other children and she had never had a playmate. All she had was her royalty, which manifested itself in her power over others. She had exerted it because it was all she had.

I was beginning to feel rather sorry for my arrogant little Countess. I encouraged her to talk. She had little to tell of her daily life; she lived in a world of her own, populated by gods and heroes. She talked constantly of Freya, which was natural enough as she had been called after that goddess.

"She was golden-haired and blue-eyed," she told me on one occasion, looking complacently at her reflection in the glass as she spoke, "and she was considered to be the personification of Earth because she was so beautiful. She married Odur, who was a symbol of the summer sun, and she had two daughters who were as beautiful as herself ... well, not quite, but almost. She loved them dearly, but she loved her husband more. He was a wanderer, though, and could not be content at home. I wonder whether Sigmund will be a wanderer. I think he will be. He is hardly ever here. He is travelling now. Perhaps he doesn't want to be where I am."

I said, "You must not think that Me is going to be for you just as it was for this goddess. We live in modern times."

She looked at me intently and said with a flash of wisdom: "But people don't change much, do they ... whenever they lived they are much the same. They marry ... and are unfaithful and they go wandering."

"It will be your task to see that Sigmund does not go wandering."

"Now you are talking like Kratzkin. Oh, please don't be like her. Be like yourself. I couldn't bear it if you became like someone else."

"I hope I shall always be myself, and I should imagine that this Freya who was so beautiful should have let her husband go wandering and not have bothered about him."

"She was so unhappy. She wept and when her tears fell into the sea they turned into amber."

"I hardly think that is the scientific explanation of that substance."

She laughed again and I was glad to see her merriment because I sensed beneath these conversations her preoccupation with her coming marriage to this Sigmund, and I realized she was apprehensive. I hoped in time she would confide her feelings to me.

"She went in search of him and she wept so much that where she wept gold was found later."

"Many people must be grateful to the lachrymose lady," I said.

"Well, it all seems hard to believe now, but I'm glad they called me Freya. Though Freya did not marry Sigmund. He married Borghild ... but she was wicked and he put her from him. Then he took a new wife in her place. She was Hjordis. You see, she wasn't Freya either."

"You have lived too much with these old legends," I told her. "They are not always meant to be taken so seriously. In any case your Sigmund was one of the heroes, wasn't he? I know you regard yourself as a goddess, but I should remember if I were you that Sigmund is a man. And you are a woman. And if you want to live together happily you must not forget this."

"You make it all sound so easy, Fraulein Anne. Is it always so easy for you?"

"No," I said firmly, "it is not."

"I want to tell you something."

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you came here."

It was remarkable progress, and that after two weeks!

She told me about life in Kollenitz. "It was much less formal than here," she said. "Of course my father, the Margrave, governs only a little place ... but it is important. That is the point. It is where Kollenitz is situated—not our power or our wealth or anything like that. Bruxenstein needs to be friends with Kollenitz so that Kollenitz can be what they call a buffer state. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Well, how would you like to be a buffer?"

She looked at me questioningly and I replied on impulse, "I think it would depend on Sigmund."

That made her laugh yet again. "Sigmund is tall and handsome. I think the hero Sigmund must have been rather like him. But perhaps he is more like Sigurd. I always liked him better really. He was my favourite among all the heroes."

"You must get away from all those myths. Tell me about Kollenitz."

"I was the only child. It's a great blow when they don't have sons. They seem to blame it on you."

"I'm sure they don't."

"I am sure they do and please don't talk like Kratzkin."

"All right. Shall we say then that they feel a little resentful towards a female child?"

"That's better," she said.

"But as it was no fault of yours, you should not allow it to upset you."

"It didn't, much. But... perhaps it did a little. It made it difficult for them—nurses, governesses, I wanted them to know that even if I was a girl I was also important—the heiress. Well, then I was betrothed to Sigmund and that was after Rudolph was murdered."

"What do you know about that?" I asked eagerly.

"About Rudolph? He was with his mistress in the hunting lodge and someone came in and killed them with one of the guns from the gun room there. I didn't hear about it until after, though if he had lived I should have married Rudolph."

"You would?"

"Yes, because of Kollenitz being the buffer. They want Kollenitz allied with Bruxenstein."

"What happened then?"

"It was a long time ago and I was very young at the time. I used to hear them whispering together, but they always shut up when they saw me. Then I heard I was going to be betrothed to Sigmund. I couldn't understand it at first because they had always told me before that Rudolph was going to be my husband."

"When did you learn that he had died?"

"When I was betrothed to Sigmund. They had to tell me then that it was not going to be Rudolph and why. I didn't go through any ceremony with Rudolph. It was all in treaties, but there was a betrothal ceremony in the schloss-kirche here and Sigmund and I made our vows. It wasn't a marriage ... it was just a betrothal; but it does mean that we are promised to each other. We couldn't marry anyone else now without a dispensation and that would never be given because my father and the Grand Duke would never allow it."

"I see what an important person you are."

"A buffer," she answered.

I laid my hands on her shoulders. "Countess," I said, "I see that you are going to be very happy."

"Where do you see it?"

"In your stars."

"Can you tell?"

"I can tell you that this will be so."

"I wonder why Sigmund stays away so long. Do you think it is because he doesn't like me?"

"Certainly not. It is because he is arranging treaties and such like with foreign powers."

She laughed. Then she was serious. "Perhaps it is," she said. "You see, it was only when Rudolph died that he became important. Before that, he was only the son of the Grand Duke's younger brother."

"It must have made a lot of difference to his life."

"Of course. He'll be the Grand Duke when this one dies. Oh, I do hope he's not going wandering like Freya's hus­band."

"He won't, and you won't go crying after him, even if it does add to the world's supply of amber and gold."

"Oh, Fraulein Anne, I do like you. It's because you are funny, I think. I am going to call you just Anne, not Fraulein any more, because that makes you seem like any old governess."

"I can see we are making rapid strides. Your manners are improving with your English accent. You ask my permission. Dear Countess, I should like you to call me ... just Anne."

"And will you call me Freya?"

"When we are alone," I said. "But before others it might be wise to stand on a little ceremony."

She kissed me then and I was deeply moved. We were indeed becoming friends.

I had been with Freya for nearly a month when she said she wished to go to the mausoleum because this was the anniversary of her great-grandmother's death and she was buried there. I wanted to know how this came about and she told me that her great-grandmother had made a second marriage into Bruxenstein and had lived the last years of her life there, though the children of her first marriage had remained in Kollenitz.

I was very eager to see anything connected with the family and I greatly looked forward to the visit.

It was necessary to get the key to the mausoleum from the comptroller of the household and he greeted me with smiles. Like everyone else he knew of the success I was having with the young Countess, and he regarded himself as responsible for this happy appointment. He had even been congratulated by the Grand Duke himself, he told me, for the Grand Duke had had an account from Frau Strelitz and others.

I told him that I was enjoying the work and that the Countess was making excellent progress.

"It is said that she is so interested in her English studies that she is inclined to neglect others," he said complacently.

"Fraulein Kratz and I try to keep an even balance."

The comptroller beamed and gave me the key to the mausoleum, asking that when the visit was over I should return it to him.

This I promised to do and Freya and I set out on foot, for the church was adjoining the schloss. It was beautifully situated, high up with magnificent views of the town below. Some of the graves had been made quite recently and fresh flowers and wreaths lay on them.

The mausoleum was imposing and quite grand. Freya whispered to me that it had been there for many years and had been designed by one of the greatest architects.

She opened the door and descended a few steps. The floor was of marble, as was the chapel; and there were side galleries in which the sarcophagi had been placed.

"How quiet it is!" I said.

"Quiet as the grave," agreed Freya. "Anne, are you just a little bit frightened?"

"What is there to be afraid of?"

"Ghosts?" suggested Freya.

"The dead cannot harm the living."

"Some people think so. What if they have been murdered? They say that if people have died violently they can't rest."

"Who says?"

"They."

"I never believe them. They are always so vague and it is as though they are afraid to say their names."

"This is the coffin of my great-grandmother. I always wonder about her when I come here. She came from Kollenitz to Bruxenstein ... just as I did. But she was older than I and had been married before ... so she knew something about it. I say a little prayer and hope that she is happy in heaven. I saw a picture of her once. They say she was like me."

"They again. They seem to be everywhere."

She laughed out loud and then put her fingers to her lips. "Perhaps we shouldn't laugh in here."

"Why not?"

"They might not like it."

"Here they come again."

She was serious. "I mean the ghosts this time," she whispered.

"Well," I said loudly, "we have nothing to fear from them or they from us."

"Come and look at this," she said, and she led me to the coffin which lay on one of the ledges. "Can you read it?"

I leaned forward. "Rudolph Wilhelm Otto Baron von Gruton Fuchs. Aged twenty-three years ..."

"Yes," she interrupted. "It's the one who was. murdered. I wonder if he rests in peace?"

I stared in shocked silence, stunned, although I should have realized that he would be buried here. My mind had gone back over the years to the day when I had first seen him coming to the Grange and taking Francine away.

Then suddenly I realized that I was alone. I turned sharply and heard the key turning in the lock. I was startled and then deeply shocked. Freya had locked me in.

I stared at the door. Then I went to it and said sternly, "Open this immediately."

There was no response. I banged with my fists but that made little impression.

I did not know what to do. This was not serious. I should soon be missed and they would know where I was because the comptroller had given me the key to the mausoleum, and if Freya returned without me they would come immediately and release me. But my first feelings were disappointment that Freya could have done this. I knew she was trying to break through my calm and frighten me, to show that I possessed the same weaknesses that she did; but to be locked in a mausoleum with no company but the dead was a terrifying experience and of this she would be very much aware, and yet in spite of our friendship she had subjected me to it.

It was indeed eerie in this place. I looked at the sarcophagi on the side galleries and thought of the dead-Rudolph among them. If he could but come alive and tell me the truth of what happened, I would be ready to face anything for that.

I sat on the steps and stared ahead of me. "Oh, Rudolph ..." I murmured to myself, "come to me now, I won't be afraid. I want so much to know... ."

And then suddenly ... I was aware of a presence ... close to me. I fancied I heard the sound of suppressed laughter.

I turned sharply and the silence was broken by Freya's merriment. She had quietly opened the door and was standing behind me.

"Were you frightened?" she asked.

"When you foolishly locked me in, shall we say I was very surprised."

"Why?"

"That you could do something so—"

"Childish?"

"No. That would have been forgivable."

"Are you angry then? Aren't you going to forgive me? Will you go away?"

I turned to her and said, "Freya, some people might have been very frightened indeed to be locked in such a place."

"You wouldn't."

"How did you know?"

"You are not frightened of anything."

"Good heavens! Have I given you that impression?"

She nodded.

"It was cruel of you," I continued. "You should never do a thing like that to anybody."

"I know. I got frightened as soon as I'd done it. I thought your hair would turn white in a minute. Some people's do when they're frightened. I thought you might die of shock. Then I told myself you'd be all right. Then I got frightened that you would be so angry that you would go away. So I opened the door ... and there you were just sitting there talking to yourself."

"Give me the key," I said. "Did you take it out of my pocket?"

She nodded.

"It was all rather silly," I commented.

"It wasn't in a way," she argued, "because it shows me that you really are very brave and just as I thought you were. You didn't scream or shout. You just sat there and waited because you knew I would be sorry almost at once."

I led her firmly out of the mausoleum and locked the door. As we made our way back to the schloss she said, "I know another grave. I'll show you if you like?"

"What grave?"

"It's rather a special one. It's a secret. I'll take you tomorrow. I do like you, Anne. I'm sorry I took the key and locked you in. But you were not frightened, were you? I don't think you ever would be. I think you've got special powers."

"Now please don't confuse me with your gods and heroes. I'm not one of them."

"What are you, Anne?"

"The long-suffering English governess."

It was a pleasant trait in Freya's character that she was really penitent about locking me into the mausoleum and tried very hard to make up for her conduct.

I dismissed it all as of little importance and pointed out that as she had so quickly repented we could forget it.

She was determined to please me, though, and only the next day suggested that we take a ride into the forest. We set out with two grooms riding behind us at a safe distance, and I was amazed to find that we were making our way towards the hunting lodge. We passed the cottage. None of the children was visible.

I said: "I have friends in that cottage."

"The lodge people?" she asked.

"Yes, I met them once. They have some charming children."

"Oh, they're the people who looked after the hunting lodge when it happened."

"Yes."

We fell into silence for a while, then she said, "We shall come to it in a minute."

And there it was, looking more imposing than ever. Freya had pulled up and, to my astonishment, dismounted.

"We are going in there?" I asked, and I hoped she did not notice the excitement in my voice.

She shook her head. "There's nothing in there," she told me. "Nobody goes there now. Well, would you want to? Where a murder had been committed?"

I shivered.

"You looked really scared, Anne." She was regarding me intently. "You look more frightened than you did in the mausoleum. Well, not exactly frightened ... but odd somehow."

"I assure you I'm not frightened."

"All right then. Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"I told you. I promised to show you something."

My excitement was increasing. I felt that I was on the verge of a discovery, and that it should come through the Countess was amazing.

She called to the grooms, who were following at a discreet distance, "We are going to walk round the lodge. Stay there with the horses. Come on," she went on to me. "This way."

I followed her, wondering whether Arnulf, the twins or one of the other children were close by. But there was no sign of life anywhere.

She led me round to the back of the house, not pausing but going straight on until we came to a gate which opened out into a part of the forest which had been shut in with green palings. There was a gate made of the same palings and Freya went to this.

"Can you guess what's in here?" she asked. No.

"It's a grave." She opened the gate and we went through. There was a mound in the centre of the patch and on it someone had planted a rose-bush; the surrounding grass had been neatly cut.

I knelt and read the inscription on the plate, which was almost hidden by the rose-bush.

"Francine Ewell," I read. And there was the date of her death.

I was overcome with emotion. This was the last thing I had expected. I wanted to throw myself on that earth and weep for her, my dear, beautiful and beloved sister. Now she lay there under this earth. At least I had found her grave.

I was aware of Freya beside me. "That is ... the woman," she whispered.

I did not answer. I could not have spoken then.

"They must have buried her here ... near the lodge where she died," went on Freya.

I stood up and she continued: "That's what I wanted to show you. I thought you'd be interested ... because you are, aren't you. You like hearing about the murder." She was studying me intently. "Are you all right, Anne?"

"Yes, thank you. I'm quite all right."

"You look a bit odd."

"It's the light here ... all these trees. They make you look pale too."

"Well, that's what I wanted to show you. It's interesting, isn't it?

I agreed that it was.

I tried to appear normal, but I kept thinking of Francine's body being taken out of the lodge and buried close by.

As we rode home the thought struck me. Somebody tends her grave. Who would that be?

I longed to return there ... alone. That seemed impossible, for I could not absent myself long enough. Then I told Frau Strelitz that I should like half a day's freedom as I wished to visit Frau Schmidt with whom I had lodged before I came to the schloss.

"But of course, Fraulein," she said. "We don't want you to think of yourself as a prisoner. You must take free time often. You and the Countess have become almost like friends and it did not occur to me that you wished to go off alone."

It was not so easy with Freya. She could not understand why she could not come with me.

"It would be embarrassing for my friends. They are not accustomed to entertaining personages in their tiny cottage."

"I should not mind."

"That is not the point. They would."

"It's Herr Schmidt's wife, isn't it? He works for the Graf von Bindorf."

"So you know that."

"I like to know all about you, Anne." She laughed aloud. "Why, you looked scared for a moment. I believe you have a secret. Oh, have you ... ? Have you?"

"Now you are going off into your wild imaginings."

I turned the matter off as lightly as I could and I wondered if I deceived her. She was very astute.

However I did have my free afternoon and rode over to Daisy, who was delighted to see me and told me she had heard from Hans that I was making a great success at the post and that the Countess was spending a great deal of time with me.

"Well," she said, "it's natural. You was brought up at the Manor and I reckon a real English lady is as good as any foreign Countess."

"Don't let anyone hear you say that. I am sure they wouldn't agree."

"We'll keep it to ourselves," said Daisy with a wink. "Now let me get you a glass of wine. I've got some good wine cakes too. I keep them for Hans's friends when they drop in."

I sipped the wine and told her that I had seen Francine's grave.

She was startled.

"The strange thing is," I said, "that someone is looking after it."

"I wonder who that could be?"

"Daisy, it must be someone who knew her."

"It might not be. People do look after graves. It's a sort of respect for the dead."

"I want to go and look at it again."

"Why now?"

"It's an opportunity and they are not easy to get."

"I've heard what a fancy the Countess has taken to you. Poor little thing. Rushed into marriage. Rudolph was for her. All right. He's murdered so it's Sigmund instead."

"Rudolph could never have married her," I said firmly, "because he was married to Francine."

Daisy said nothing. She did not want to contradict me over a matter on which I felt so strongly. "I'll see you on the way back," she said.

I think she was rather disappointed that I did not stay with her, but she did understand my burning desire to have another look at the grave.

I rode off with all speed and in a short time had passed Gisela's cottage. I glimpsed the twins playing in the garden. They noticed me and called after me. I turned and waved and went on.

I came to the lodge, dismounted, tethered my horse to the mounting block and made my way round to the back of the house. I found the grave and went through the green paling gate. I knelt beside it and thought of Francine.

I wished that I had brought some flowers to put on her grave. Would that be foolish? Would someone notice? Would they say why does this strange Englishwoman visit the grave?

I shouldn't have come perhaps. I might already have betrayed my emotion to Freya. What if someone found me here?

I stood up. I felt as though eyes watched me, that someone was peering through the forest trees. I fancied I could hear whispering voices, but it was only the wind murmuring through the pine trees.

I must not be found here. I had been discovered at the hunting lodge by the children. If it were known that I had returned, what would they think? Surely they would begin to wonder at my apparent morbid interest in a crime which had been committed some time ago.

I hurried to my horse and rode away. When I came to the cottage Gisela was at the door, a young child in her arms. I gathered this was Max.

She called good-day to me. "How are you? Frau Schmidt was telling me about your post up at the Grand Schloss."

"Yes, I am enjoying it. The Countess is charming."

"And she is a good pupil?"

"Very good ... with her English."

"Have you been to the lodge?"

"I passed it." I hesitated, then I rushed on, "By the way, what is that little enclosure with the palings round it—at the back of the lodge?"

She looked puzzled for a moment and then she said, "Oh ... I think what you mean is a grave."

"It's a strange place for a grave."

"I suppose there were reasons."

"It looks as though someone looks after it ... a friend, I suppose, of the person buried there."

"Oh ... did you go and look?"

"I had dismounted so I went through the little gate. It seems to be well tended. I wonder who does it?"

"I tidy it up a bit now and then. It's so near the lodge and as I was seeing to that..."

"Who is buried there? Do you know?"

She hesitated and said: "It was the young woman in the shooting case."

"Strange that they should bury her there. Why not in an ordinary cemetery?"

"I heard it said they buried her quickly. They didn't want to make a ceremony of it. So few people come out here... . But I don't know. I'm guessing."

"Well," I said, "it was a long time ago."

"Yes, a long, long time ago."

I took my leave and rode thoughtfully back to Daisy's. I was disappointed. I had hoped to find someone who had tended her grave lovingly, someone who had known her in life. If there had been such a person he or she could have told me a good deal.

I stayed talking with Daisy, mainly about my life at the Grand Schloss, which interested her very much.

"You've not found out anything yet?" she asked anxiously.

I shook my head and told her that I had seen Gisela who had said she tidied up my sister's grave.

"She would, Gisela would. She'd want to tidy up the place. She's got the German passion for tidiness."

"It looked more than just tidying up," I said. "It looked as if someone tended it with care."

I said goodbye to Daisy and rode back through the town to the Grand Schloss. As soon as I came near the gates I was aware that something had happened. A man on horseback was riding out as I came up to it, and he passed me as though he were in a great hurry.

The guards were about to challenge me and then, recognizing me, they let me pass. As I entered the hall one of the servants hurried to me.

"Frau Strelitz would like to see you in her room without delay."

I went there in some trepidation, wondering what could have happened.

She was waiting for me.

"Ah, Fraulein Ayres, I am glad you are back. The Grand Duke has had a seizure."

"Is he-"

"No, no, but dangerously ill. He has had this sort of thing before. But if he should die, Baron Sigmund would become Grand Duke immediately. As you can imagine, this could cause trouble. Because of this unfortunate death of Rudolph, who was the undoubted son of the Grand Duke assuring the accepted succession, it is not quite so straightforward. There are some who feel that another has prior claim. He is called Otto the Bastard because he claims to be the illegitimate son of the Grand Duke. Our great desire is to keep the Grand Duke alive ... but we must make sure that he does not die before Sigmund arrives."

"Where is the elusive Sigmund? I hear so much about him."

"He is travelling abroad. It is his duty to meet the heads of state in various countries. We have sent couriers to him at once. He'll have to come back now. The only thing is he must do so because if the Grand Duke dies ... You understand. We don't want to be plunged into war."

"So that is why there is this change. I sensed it as soon as I passed the gate."

"It may be necessary for you to take the Countess away from the Grand Schloss for a while. We are not quite sure yet what is going to happen. But I wanted you to be prepared. We must pray for the recovery of the Grand Duke."

I went to find Freya. She was waiting for me.

"You see what happens when you go away," she said. "Now the Grand Duke is ill."

"That has nothing to do with my going out for the afternoon."

She narrowed her eyes and looked at me steadily. "I think it might," she said. "Fraulein Anne, you are not what you seem."

"What do you mean?" I asked sharply.

She pointed her finger at me. "You're not a witch, are you? You're one of the goddesses returned to earth. You can assume which shape you like ..."

"Stop this nonsense," I said. "You know this is very serious. The Grand Duke is very ill."

"I know. He is going to die and I can only think of one thing. Anne, Sigmund is coming home."

Frau Strelitz sent for me the next day.

She told me at once that the Grand Duke was a little better. The doctors were with him and they had made an announcement. He had had a seizure like this before and had recovered. There was every hope that he would do so again.

His ministers had been talking through the night, she told me. "They eagerly await the return of the heir. In the meantime they consider that the Countess Freya should not be in the Grand Schloss ... in case of trouble. So we have decided that she should leave with you and Fraulein Kratz and a few of her servants."

"I understand. When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow. The Grand Duke's ministers think the sooner the better—just in case, of course. We have every hope of the Grand Duke's recovery. It is thought that she should not be too far away. The Margrave of Kollenitz would be very suspicious if we moved her away from the capital, so we have arranged that she shall go to the schloss on the other side of the river, and the Graf von Bindorf has offered you all hospitality until the situation is clarified."

I felt as though the room were spinning round me. I was to go into the household of the Graf and Grafin von Bindorf. Some members of that household had seen me before, including the Grafin and her daughter Tatiana. Would they recognize me? And if so, what would happen? I was sure that my coming here under an assumed name in order to attempt to uncover a mystery involving my sister would not be regarded with any great pleasure.

I was in my bedroom getting my things together when Freya came in and sat on my bed. I was holding the glasses which Miss Elton had procured for me and considering whether I should wear them on entering the von Bindorf schloss.

"What have you got there," demanded Freya. "Oh ... spectacles. You don't wear them, do you?"

"Sometimes ..."

"Have you got weak eyes? Oh, you poor Anne! All that reading you have to do. Do your eyes get tired? Do they make your head ache?"

"I suppose I should wear them more," I said.

"Put them on and let's have a look at you."

I did so and she laughed. "You look different," she said.

I was glad to hear that.

"You look severe," she went on. "Just like a governess. You look quite alarming."

"Then I should certainly wear them more."

"You're prettier without them."

"There are things more important than looks."

"I think you're just wearing them for a reason."

She alarmed me. Sometimes she seemed to see right into my mind. She was now looking at me slyly, teasing me as she loved to do.

"What reason?" I said sharply.

"What reason could there be but to try to make me afraid of you?"

I laughed with relief. But sometimes her comments shook me.

As we prepared to leave for the von Bindorf schloss, I kept remembering fragments from that long ago meeting. Could the Grafin remember anything about me? I had been young then, a schoolgirl, nondescript, like so many other girls of my age. I had grown several inches taller because I had shot up rather suddenly, and from being a small girl had become a fairly tall young woman. I supposed that anyone who had known me would have recognized me, but the Grafin had seen me for only a short time and then she had obviously been so much more interested in Francine.

The spectacles might well be useful. I would wear them when there could be a need to do so, and I did not believe that Freya had any real suspicions about them. I was over nervous. I had nothing to fear. It was hardly likely that the Grafin would take much notice of her important guest's English governess.

The next day the carriage drove us over to the schloss. There were little knots of people in the streets and quite a crowd outside the Grand Schloss. The comptroller of the household had attached a bulletin of the Grand Duke's condition on the gate and there was a crowd reading it. I noticed the faces of the people as we passed through. They gave a little cheer for the Countess, who acknowledged it with the grace and solemnity which the occasion demanded.

I thought: She will make a good duchess when the time arises.

Fraulein Kratz and I sat well back in the carriage as we went through the town and across the bridge to that other schloss. I thought: I shall be nearer Daisy, and Hans will be under the same roof. It was a comforting thought.

We went under a kind of portcullis and into a courtyard where the Grafin and the Graf were waiting to greet the Countess. On either side of them stood a young man and a young woman. The young woman looked vaguely familiar and I immediately thought: Oh yes, Tatiana. And again I was touched by a shiver of apprehension. I had to escape detection not only by the Grafin but by her daughter, and casting my mind back it occurred to me that Tatiana would have been interested in one of her own age. I should have put on the glasses.

Freya was helped out of the carriage by one of the footmen and she went straight to the Graf and Grafin who bowed and then embraced her.

Fraulein Kratz stepped out of the carriage and moved to one side. I followed her, head lowered. She had taken up her stand on the edge of the group; I kept close to her, and I was relieved that everyone seemed intent on watching Freya and that I did not receive more than a cursory glance.

I watched Tatiana greet Freya, and the young man clicked his heels and bowed. Freya smiled graciously and the Grafin took her by the hand and led her into the schloss.

I mingled with a group of people. Those, I thought, who are of little importance; and I thanked heaven for them.

I saw Hans suddenly. He was looking for me, I guessed, and he came over and spoke to me.

"I will take you to the apartments which have been" assigned to you and Fraulein Kratz," he said. "They are next to those of the Countess."

I smiled my appreciation and with Fraulein Kratz slipped away from those surrounding the main party. We were conducted through a narrow passage and up a stone staircase— the spiral kind, each step being built into the wall at one end and consequently very narrow and much wider at the other end. There was a thick rope hand-rail.

"Your apartments can be reached by the main staircase," Hans told me, "but on this occasion it is better to use this one."

I was grateful to him. He must have guessed that I would be apprehensive.

He showed us a suite of rooms. Fraulein Kratz and I were next to each other, and there was a large room which could be used for a schoolroom. On the other side of this were those apartments allotted to the Countess.

Fraulein Kratz nervously said that she hoped the Grand Duke would soon recover.

"They say it is almost certain that he will," Hans told her.

"I feel quite exhausted," she said.

"Have a little rest," I suggested.

"I must settle in first," she said, and went into her room, which left me alone with Hans.

I looked at him questioningly.

"They'll never recognize you," he said. "You look quite different. I didn't know you again when I saw you after all that time. They hardly ever look at people unless they are grand dukes or counts. It will be all right."

"Hans, if I am discovered, I hope it doesn't make trouble for you."

"I shall disclaim all knowledge. Daisy will come up with something. You can trust Daisy."

He tried to restore my spirits by giving me an imitation of one of Daisy's winks, which looked so grotesque on him that it made me smile.

"I reckon you won't be here long," he said. "As soon as the Grand Duke's better you'll be going back. And he will recover. He has before."

I was in my room when I heard the Countess being brought up to hers. There was a great deal of conversation and I could detect Freya's high-pitched voice.

Then I heard her say: "Grafin, you must meet my very good friend, Fraulein Ayres. She's an English lady and teaches me English ... just for fun."

I felt suddenly sick with fear. I put on the glasses and pretended to be looking at the view as the door opened and Freya came in with the Grafin. I stood with my back to the light.

When I turned I saw that Tatiana and the young man were with them.

"Fraulein Ayres," said Freya, very much on her dignity, "I want to present you to the Grafin von Bindorf and to Count Gunther and the Countess Tatiana."

I bowed low.

The Grafin's eyes momentarily swept over me and, I thought, dismissed me. As for Tatiana I could only faintly recognize in her the girl whom I had seen at the Grange. Her blond hair was elegantly dressed and piled high on her head, and although she had grown considerably, she was far from tall. She could have been a beauty but for those too closely set eyes, and her rather tight lips made her appear somewhat forbidding.

Gunther was quite different. Though as blond as she was with similar closely set eyes, there were laughter lines about his, and his pleasant expression implied that he looked upon life as something of a joke. Tatiana repelled me, but I immediately liked her brother.

"Welcome," he said. "I hope you will be happy here."

"Oh, we shall be," said Freya. "Fraulein Ayres and I are always happy. We love our English chatter, do we not?"

I tried to look governess-like. I said: "The Countess is making excellent progress."

The Grafin turned away with the air of one who has humoured the whim of a child. She laid her hand on Freya's arm and said: "Come, dear Countess, we have much to talk of."

As they went out, Tatiana threw a backward glance at me.

I had lowered my eyes and turned away.

They had no idea who I was, I was sure.

During the next few days I saw less of Freya. She deplored this. She said they were always making demands on her.

The Grafin was determined to honour her. "She is looking to the future when I shall be Grand Duchess," said Freya. "I don't know what it is ... but she looks down her nose at me when she thinks I don't see her and is always flattering me to my face. I don't think she likes me one little bit, although she pretends to admire me. I wish we were back at the Grand Schloss. Gunther's nice, though. He's different from the others and I think he is really pleased that I am here."

The bulletins of the Grand Duke continued to be favourable and it now seemed certain that he was going to recover after all.

My fears were lulled. It was quite clear that I was going to see very little of the Grafin and her daughter and if ever I was summoned to their presence, I would make sure that I was wearing my glasses and that my hair was more severely dressed than usual.

There seemed little fear that I should be and I felt immensely relieved. Our stay here would be short, since the Grand Duke was improving every day, and as long as I could remain in obscurity no one would think of connecting me with Francine. It occurred to me once again how wise I was to have come as Anne Ayres. My own name would have betrayed me immediately.

It was three days after our arrival when Freya burst into my room.

"Hello, Anne," she cried. "We see so little of each other, I don't like it. I'll be glad when we go back. But you know that, don't you? Now I'll tell you something you don't know."

"Well?"

"Sigmund is coming tomorrow."

"Oh, it's about time, isn't it?"

"They had to let him know and then he had to travel back. He will go to the Grand Schloss first to see the Grand Duke and then he will come here. It will be evening when he arrives and the Grafin would like to make a grand occasion of it, but of course it can't be all that grand because of the Grand Duke's illness."

"Just an intimate dinner party, I suppose."

"More than that. You see, the Duke is so much better. He has actually been sitting up in bed taking nourishment."

"That is good news. Sigmund need not have interrupted his pleasure."

"He should be here. State duties and all that. He'll be a sort of Regent. Besides, he has to woo me."

"Poor man! What a task!"

"Anne, it is good to be with you. The others are all so serious. They never laugh and what I like best is laughing."

"It shows a happy temperament," I said.

"Anne, listen. There's to be a sort of minor ball."

"What on earth is that?"

"A ball ... but not a grand ball, of course. Fewer people ... less fuss ... less ceremony ... but a ball all the same."

"And I can see the sparkle in your eyes. Is that for the ball or the laggard Sigmund?"

"Why do you call him a laggard?"

"Because he has delayed so long. He's a laggard in love. I hope not a dastard in war."

"Are you quoting poetry again?"

"I admit it."

"You do love it, don't you? I am to have a new dress for this ball and I am going to Madame Chabris who has set up in the town as the court dressmaker. She is from Paris and you know all the best fashions come from there."

"I have heard it," I replied. "When do we go to Madame Chabris?"

"Immediately."

"Will there be time to make this dress by tomorrow?"

"Madame Chabris is a marvel. She knows my size. She has made dresses for me before. She knew that Sigmund, would be coming home and that I should be needing an exquisite gown. It would not surprise me if Madame Chabris had the very thing waiting for me."

"She sounds as though she is very clever."

"But the good news is this. You are coming too, Anne."

"I!"

"I insisted. I don't deny it was hard. The Grafin said, 'A governess!' I explained that you were a very special sort of governess. You have been brought up almost as nobly as we have. You are only doing this because you are seeing the world and doing the grand tour and finding it all rather boring travelling aimlessly. You could leave us at any minute which I should not like at all, and I should never forgive anyone who made you feel like a servant in any way. Tatiana didn't like it either, but I don't like Tatiana in any case. Gunther thought it was all right. He said, 'What harm will it do, Mamma? Let the English lady come. She will be swallowed up among the guests.' How do you like the thought of being swallowed up?"

"Wait a moment. Do you really mean that I am to come to the ball?"

"Cinderella, yes. I am your fairy godmother. I shall wave my magic wand."

"It's impossible. I have no dress."

"Isn't that just what Cinderella said? I will arrange that with Madame Chabris, of course."

"There is no time."

We are going to Madame Chabris this morning and I'll wager—"

"Please do not talk of laying wagers. It is unseemly. And as the Grafin quite clearly does not approve of my going, I shall most certainly not."

"Wait a minute. You are coming, Anne Ayres. To please me you are coming. I want you to come. I am the Countess... Grand Duchess to be ... and unless you want to offend me, which will be at your peril, you will come."

"You forget I shall not be one of your subjects. I can leave here and go home when I wish."

"Oh dear, dear Anne, you would not disappoint me. I have worked so hard to make them agree and the reason is I am really frightened. I have to meet this Sigmund ... and I need to know you are there."

"What nonsense," I said. "He is not a stranger to you."

"No. But I need your support. You must come. Oh, promise ... promise... ."

I hesitated. I felt a tremendous excitement creeping over me. I was making very slow progress. Who knew what I might discover if I mingled with people who in all probability actually had known Rudolph?

"Get on your cloak," she urged. "I have ordered the carriage. We are leaving at once for the salon of Madame Chabris."

It was a revelation to see myself gowned by Madame Chabris. Her salon was beautiful. I said, "It's almost as grand as I imagine the hall of mirrors at Versailles to be."

"Well, she is French," Freya reminded me.

We were given a very warm welcome. Madame Chabris herself, elegant in the extreme, perfectly coiffured and shod as well as exquisitely gowned, greeted us.

She had the very dress which Freya needed. She admitted that she sometimes designed dresses to suit people whom she admired, so it was not to be marvelled at that she had just the right thing for the Countess Freya. As for myself, I had a good figure, she commented, and naturally she had the very dress that would suit me.

Freya tried on her dress and pirouetted in front of the mirrors, seeing herself reflected all round the room.

"It's beautiful," she cried. "Oh, Madame Chabris, you are a marvel."

Madame Chabris looked quietly pleased as though such hyperbole was commonplace to one of her genius.

Then it was my turn. The dress was deep blue and there was a vein of gold running through it.

"I call it my lapis lazuli," said Madame Chabris. "It is beautiful... a little expensive alas."

"Fraulein Ayres is a lady of independent means," said Freya quickly. "She works only because she wishes to. We are good friends, so I know."

"Then I am sure she will consider the price a minor matter when she sees how the lapis will bring out the glow of her skin."

I tried it on. Madame Chabris was right. That dress did a great deal for me.

"The alterations are infinitesimal," said Madame Chabris airily. "My work girls will do them in two hours. You are very slender, Fraulein. You have the beautiful figure—but if I may say, you have not yet realized it. The lapis will show you. Step in here, please, and I will send a fitter."

I went into a small cubicle and was soon joined by a middle-aged woman with a pocketful of pins.

I had to admit the transformation was miraculous.

When I had been pinned, the dress fitted me perfectly. There was a gold-coloured girdle to match the veins in the material and the effect was startling.

Freya clapped her hands and danced round in an ecstasy of joy when she saw me.

"The Fraulein's hair will need attention," said Madame Chabris warningly.

"It will receive it," promised Freya.

She had suddenly remembered that she was the future Grand Duchess and became somewhat imperious.

"You will have the dress, Fraulein. Madame Chabris, you will make the alterations and deliver tomorrow morning early. That will give Fraulein Ayres time to try it on and make sure all is well."

"It shall be done, Countess," said Madame Chabris.

Freya laughed all the way back to the schloss.

She kept saying: "Oh, Fraulein Anne, I do like being with you. We laugh a lot, don't we?"

So I was to go to the ball. I was greatly excited and knew instinctively that I was walking into danger, but I did not care. I had to do this, I reminded myself, if I were to discover anything.

My dress arrived and I tried it on. Fraulein Kratz, who saw me in it, stared in astonishment.

"The Countess insisted," I said.

"And the Grafin has agreed?"

I nodded.

"The Countess is very wayward."

"She is charming," I insisted. "She has a strong character and will make a very good Grand Duchess."

"I wish she were a little more ... orthodox."

"Oh come, she is an individualist. That is far more interesting than following the crowd."

"When one is in her position it is often better to follow the crowd," retorted Fraulein Kratz. "As for you, Fraulein Ayres, aren't you terrified? I should be."

"Terrified? Why should I be?" I spoke sharply. Sometimes, I thought I must give away the fact that I have something to hide.

"Well, I should be," she said lightly. "The last thing I should want is to go to one of their balls."

"I am looking forward to it," I said firmly and she turned away, shrugging her shoulders.

I was living in the clouds for the rest of that day. I had never been to a ball before. Grandfather had never entertained in that style at Greystone Manor. The most he had had was a dinner party. But I supposed I should be very much in the background.

Freya gave me an indication of what was likely to happen. Sigmund would arrive and be greeted by herself and the Graf, the Grafin, Tatiana and Gunther. Then they would come into the great hall where people would be assembled. "Everyone there will form into two lines. You'll be somewhere at the end, I'm afraid, Anne."

"But of course," I replied.

"Then Sigmund will take my hand and we shall walk in between the two lines. Sigmund will say something to the important ones. Not you, Anne."

"Indeed not."

"You have to curtsy as we come through."

"I think I can manage that very well."

"That's all there is to it. Then we shall dance ... rather discreetly ... and then we shall all go to supper and it will end at midnight out of respect for the Grand Duke."

So I dressed in the most beautiful and becoming gown I had ever possessed. I was amazed at the transformation. While I was struggling with my hair, Freya came in with a small dark woman who carried combs and pins on her head.

"This is the Grafin's lady's maid," she announced. "She has done my hair. Is she not clever? Now she is going to do yours."

"Oh, but-" I began.

"It needs it," retorted Freya. "And / have said she shall."

"You are good to me," I said suddenly.

Freya's lips twitched slightly, and I was deeply touched as always by these signs of her unselfishness. She really was a very charming girl.

So my hair was dressed and I went to the ball in some trepidation. I joined some men and women who were gathered at one end of the hall. They smiled at me rather nervously, I thought, and I guessed they were the poor relations of some noble house and were slightly overawed in the assembled company. I had a feeling that my place was with them. It occurred to me that it might be from such people that I could discover something which would help me unravel the mystery.

Freya was not present. I knew she was with the Graf and Grafin, Tatiana and Gunther, and from the sounds without it appeared that the great Sigmund had arrived. The company began forming into two lines as, with the sound of trumpets, a group of men in uniforms of blue, with plumes in their helmets and swords at their sides, came into the room.

In their midst was a man slightly taller than the rest. I could not see him clearly for my view was obscured by people in the line.

Now the party was moving towards us. I noticed that everyone was standing very still, their eyes cast down; so I did the same.

They were moving along ... the Graf on one side of this illustrious personage and Freya on the other.

I began to feel a little dizzy. There was something very unreal about this. I thought: I must be dreaming. This is not really happening.

For there he was, standing before me. Conrad ... my lover. Conrad whom I had never forgotten although I had tried to deceive myself into thinking that I had.

"This is Fraulein Ayres, who teaches me such good English." Freya was beaming, proud of me ... proud of him ... her face alight with joy.

I curtsied as I had seen the others do.

"Fraulein Ayres," he murmured. It was all there, the voice, the look, all that I remembered. His bewilderment was as great... perhaps even greater ... than my own.

"You are English," he said. He had taken my hand. Mine was trembling. He was staring at me. "I understand that you are a very good teacher."

Then he passed on. I felt as though I were going to faint. I must recover myself. Vaguely I heard him speaking to someone else along the line.

I wanted to get away. I wanted to escape from this room and think over what I had just discovered.

When he reached the end of the line, he took Freya's hand and they went into the centre of the hall to lead the dance. People started to fall in behind them.

Someone was at my elbow. It was Gunther.

I stammered: "Count Gunther ..."

"Countess Freya asked me to keep an eye on you."

"She is such a dear girl," I replied. "But perhaps I should not speak so of the Countess."

"It is true," he said. "She speaks highly of you too, and she is anxious about you. She told me that she insisted that you come to the ball. May I have the pleasure of this dance?"

"I don't really know your dances, but thank you."

"This is easy. Come ... just a few steps and then twirl."

"Did the Countess tell you you must ask me to dance?"

He admitted it.

"Well, then you have done your duty."

"Not duty," he replied with a charming smile, "a pleasure."

"I think I should retire after this. It was so good of the Countess Freya to insist on my coming ... but I really feel I should not be here."

He had drawn me onto the floor and I found I was danc­ing easily.

"You are doing splendidly," he said. "Look at Countess Freya. She will make a charming Grand Duchess, do you not think so?"

"I do. When will the marriage celebrations take place?"

"Not for a year, now the Duke is recovering. At least I hope." He looked a little wistful and it occurred to me that he was quite taken with my young Countess.

I wondered whether Conrad was too.

Why had he given me a false name? He must have decided that he did not want to betray his identity. Why had he pretended to be the Graf's equerry? Had he? Had I assumed that? He had not contradicted it. I felt very uneasy and suddenly terribly sad.

I wanted to get away from this ball now. I could not bear to see him there. People surrounded him. Of course they did. He was the heir to the dukedom, the most important man here. This gathering was in his honour, although it was only a small ball because of the Grand Duke's illness, but there must be a celebration of some sort because the Duke's heir was coming.

He would ignore me, of course. I hoped he would. How could I face him in this room?

I must get away quickly.

I chose my opportunity. It was not difficult. I slipped away, but as I did so I saw him glance my way. He was smiling and talking and went on doing so.

I felt heartsick. What a fool I had been to fall in love with the first man who crossed my path! I should have had more sense. And how easily I had fallen into the trap he had laid for me! Easily come by and therefore not valued over much.

But what a man he was! He was like the hero of a legend. I remembered I had thought of him as Sigurd when I had first met him. A Norseman. A Viking commander. That was what he had looked like then. Now in his uniform he looked more than ever like a hero of legend. He was outstanding among all the people there. He was everything that I had tried to shut out of my mind.

I should never have come here. It was a foolish thing to have done. What could I do now? I must go away—that was clear. I must forget why I had come here. I must go back to England. I could stay with Aunt Grace. I must live quietly and unadventurously. It was the only way not to get hurt more desperately than I had already been.

I sat down by my open window. I could see the lights of the town, the bridge and the river winding like a black snake through the town. I had grown to love the place; I had grown to love Freya. I would never forget it and there would always be an ache in my heart when I thought of it.

And him? Would I ever forget him? I had told myself that I had forgotten him. I would not allow myself to think of him. I had tried to forget that interlude, to tell myself it had never really happened; I had refused to admit even to myself that he was constantly in my mind and that I could not rid myself of those flashes of memory when I saw so vividly scenes from that time we had spent together. Secretly I had always known that I should never forget him. Conrad the deceiver, Sigmund the heir to a troubled dukedom, betrothed to my little Freya.

They would marry in due course. That was irrevocable. They were bound together. That was what he had meant when he had said he could not marry me.

There was a footstep in the corridor. Someone was at the door. The handle was slowly turning.

And there he was, looking at me.

"Pippa," he said. "Pippa!"

I tried not to look at him. I said: "I am Anne Ayres."

"What is this? What does it mean?"

I retorted: "What are you doing in my room, er— What do I call you, Baron?"

"You call me Conrad."

"What of the great lord Sigmund?"

"My ceremonial name. Sigmund, Conrad, Wilhelm, Otto. They gave me a large supply. But, Pippa, names are unimportant. What of you?"

He had come across the room and taken my hands. He had pulled me to my feet and held me against him. I felt my resistance slipping.

I could only say: "Go away. Go away, please. This is no place for you."

He had taken my chin in his hands and was looking into my face. "I searched for you," he said. "I have been in England. I came back for you. I was going to take you away with me ... by force if necessary. I couldn't find you ... and then in desperation I came back here ... and here you are. You came to find me, did you not? While I was searching for you, you were searching for me."

"No—no. I did not come here for you."

"You are lying, Pippa. You came for me, and now we have found each other we shall never part again."

"You are wrong. I shall not see you again. I shall go back to England. I know who you are now and that you are betrothed to the Countess Freya and that your betrothal is tantamount to marriage. You cannot escape it. I have learned something of your problems here. There is Kollenitz, the buffer state. You need its help and you have to marry Freya because you could never deny the marriage, but you know all this and you know now that I shall have to go home."

"This will be home to you now. Listen, Pippa, you are here. We have found each other ... never to part again. We'll be together. I'll find some place where we can make our home."

"There is an unoccupied lodge in the forest nearby," I said with a touch of bitterness.

"Don't speak of it. It won't be like that. I love you, Pippa.

Nothing can change that. As soon as I had gone I knew how much. I should not have left when you did not come to the station. I should have come back for you and made you come with me. It is the only way for us. But you came to me. It was clever of you to change your name. Better for no one to know that you are Francine's sister. But you came here... . My dear, clever Pippa. This is different from anything that has ever happened to either of us. You know that as well as I do. We are going to be together now ... no matter what happens."

"You have taken me by surprise."

"As you have taken me, my love," he answered and he was kissing me fiercely, and in my thoughts I was at once transported back to that firelit room in the Grange. I wished I were there at that moment. I wished I could forget his involvement with Freya. I wanted so much to be with him.

"The most wonderful surprise of my life," he said. "You here ... my own Pippa ... and never, never going to leave me again."

I was aware of the intensity of his passion and how ready I was to meet it. I remembered so much from that other occasion. Instinctively I knew that he was a man who had never learned to deny himself. There was so much I knew about him. And I loved him. It was no use trying to convince myself otherwise now that he was here ... close to me ... holding me in his arms. ... I could never forget him. I was a fool, for I realized the hopelessness of our situation. I was terrified that here, now, my resistance would melt away as it had on that other occasion. I had to try to think of Freya. Suppose she came in and found him here? She might not notice my absence but she would notice his. Everyone would notice it. What if she came to look for him? She would never look for him in my room, of course. But what if she came to me ... what if she found me in the arms of her future husband?

The situation was dangerous and impossible.

I drew away from him and said as coolly as I could, "You will be missed in the ballroom."

"I care nothing for that."

"Do you not? The heir to all this. ... Of course you care. It is your duty to care. You must go back and we must not see each other again."

"You suggest the impossible."

"What use can it be?"

"I have plans."

"I can guess the nature of those plans."

"Pippa, if I go now will you promise me something?"

"What is it?"

"We meet tomorrow. In the forest, shall we say? Please, Pippa, I must talk to you. Where? Where?"

"There is only one spot I know in the forest."

"Then we shall meet there."

"The hunting lodge," I said.

"We'll meet there and we'll talk and we'll talk."

"There is no more to be said. I was misled. Perhaps it was my fault. I did not ask enough questions. I accepted you as some equerry ... some servant of the Graf ... and you did not attempt to enlighten me ... and you must have known that I had no idea who you really were."

"It seemed of no consequence."

I laughed rather bitterly. "No, I suppose not. You proposed to amuse yourself during your brief stay in England. I understand that perfectly."

"You do not understand. You do not understand at all."

I was alert, listening. "The music has stopped," I said. "They will have noticed the absence of the guest of honour. Please go now."

He had taken my hands and was kissing them with passion. "Tomorrow ..." he said, "at the hunting lodge. At ten o'clock."

"I cannot be sure. It is not easy for me to leave. You must remember that I am employed here."

"The Countess said that you came as a sort of favour and that she had to please you or you would leave."

"She exaggerated. Remember, I may not be able to come."

"You will," he said. "And I shall be there ... waiting."

I drew myself away from him, but he caught me again and held me fast. He kissed my lips and throat. It was so like that other time that I feared for myself.

Then he had gone.

I turned to the window and looked over the town.

I remained at my window for a long time without noticing the passing of time. I was back at the Grange, living through those hours I had spent with him, and which I had deceived myself into thinking I had erased from my mind. Then suddenly I heard the town clock strike midnight. That would be the end of the ball, because it was to finish at that hour on account of the Grand Duke's illness. I could hear the commotion below which signified that the guests were leaving. Ceremony would accompany him wherever he went, except of course when he was away from home, living incognito.

I must change my plans. I must abandon all hope of staying here and unravelling the mystery surrounding my sister's death. And at the back of my mind was the thought that somewhere—probably near here—her child was living. I could never be at peace until I knew what had become of that little boy ... and yet, how could I stay here? My position with Freya had become untenable.

I was still sitting there in my lapis lazuli dress when there was a knock on my door and it was abruptly opened before I had time to give permission for whoever was there to enter.

As I expected, it was Freya. Her face was flushed, her eyes dancing and she looked very pretty in her Chabris dress.

"Anne," she cried. "You ran away. I looked for you. I sent Gunther to look for you and we couldn't find you anywhere."

I shivered inwardly, wondering what would have happened if she had come upon her betrothed in my bedroom.

"I should never have been at the ball," I said quietly.

"What happened?"

"Well... I came away."

"I mean something happened. You look ..." She was eyeing me suspiciously.

I said quickly—too quickly, "What do you mean? How do I look?"

"Strange ... exalted ... shining in a way. Did you meet Prince Charming?"

"Really Freya," I said rather primly.

"Well, we did say you were like Cinderella. She did meet Prince Charming, didn't she, and she ran away and dropped her slipper."

She looked down at my feet and in spite of everything I could not help smiling at her childishness.

"I can assure you I retained both my slippers. I did not have to leave on the stroke of twelve, and there was no Prince Charming for me. He ... was for you."

"What did you think of Sigmund? He spoke to you, didn't he?"

"Yes," I answered.

"I hope you liked him. Did you? Did you? Why don't you answer?"

"It is difficult for me to answer that."

She threw back her head and laughed. "Oh, Anne, you are funny. You are going to say that you don't make decisions about people on a slight acquaintance. I am not asking for an assessment of your conclusions on his character."

"That is wise of you, for you won't get it."

"I just meant did he make a favourable impression?"

"Why yes, of course."

"And you think he'll be a good husband?"

"That is for you to discover in due course."

"Oh, cautious, cautious! He is handsome, is he not?"

"Yes, I think he would be called that."

"He has such an air. He is a man of the world. That is what you would call him, wouldn't you?"

"I have told you that I ..."

"I know you only spoke to him once in line. Gunther danced with you, didn't he? I saw him. I told him to, you know."

"I know you did. It was sweet of you, but you need not have done so. I didn't expect it. However, he did his duty nobly."

"He is rather nice, Gunther, don't you think?"

"Yes, I do."

"Oh, you can be definite enough about him. Of course, he's not really so devastatingly attractive as Sigmund is. I'm a bit in awe of Sigmund. He seems well ... too worldly. Is that the right word?"

"I think it may well be exactly the right word."

"I am sure he has had a host of mistresses. He's the sort of man who would. They all do ... particularly the Fuchses. They are very much like that, you know ... lusty and amorous."

"Freya," I said solemnly, "do you want to marry this man?"

She was thoughtful for a moment. Then she said, "I want to be the Grand Duchess."

I said then that it was time we went to bed and I was ready if she was not.

"Good night then, Anne ... dear Anne. When I'm married I shan't want you to go. You can stay and comfort me when Sigmund is unfaithful with all his mistresses."

"If you feel so sure of his future infidelities, you should not marry him."

She jumped up and gave a mock salute. "Bruxenstein," she cried. "For Kollenitz! Good night, Anne," she went on. "At least it is all rather exciting, isn't it?"

I admitted that, at least, it was.

I rose early next morning. I looked in on Freya, who was fast asleep. I was glad. It would give me a chance to get out. I drank a cup of coffee and managed to eat one of the bread rolls spattered with caraway seeds which I had enjoyed since I had arrived in Bruxenstein. I did not taste it on this morning. Then I went into the stables and saddled a horse.

In less than half an hour I was at the hunting lodge. He was already there, impatiently waiting. He had tethered his horse by the mounting block and helped me to dismount. He held out his arms as I did so and I slid into them. He held me tightly, kissing me.

I said, "It is no use."

"You're wrong," he contradicted. "Let's walk and talk. I have lots to say to you."

He put an arm about me and we walked into the forest, away from the lodge.

"I have been thinking about us all night," he said. "You're here and you are going to stay. I am in this position—thrust into it by an accident of birth—but I am not one to accept a fate which is thrust on me and give up what I could never live without. I have to go through with this marriage. I have to do my duty to my country and my family ... but at the same time I am determined to live my own life. It is not an unusual situation. It has happened to so many of us. It is the only way in which we can do what we have to. My family life ... the life I want and am determined to have ... and the path of duty. I can manage them both."

"As Rudolph did?"

"He and your sister could have been happy. Rudolph was careless. He always was. He was killed because someone ... some members of a party, were determined that he should not rule. It was purely a political murder. Unfortunately for your sister, she was with him."

"It could happen to you," I said, and I wondered whether he noticed the tremor of fear in my voice.

"How do any of us know what will happen to us from one moment to another? Death can come unexpectedly to the most lowly peasant. I know that Rudolph would not have been a popular successor to his father. He was too weak, too pleasure-loving. There were factions working against him."

"And you?"

"I was not concerned in it. The last thing I wanted was to be where I am today."

"You could refuse to accept your position, could you not?"

"There is no one to take my place. There would be chaos in the country; our enemies would step in. Our country needs a ruler. My uncle has been a strong one. I hope to God he will go on living, for while he does we have security. I have to preserve that security."

"And you can?"

"I know I can ... providing our allies support us."

"Such as Kollenitz?"

He nodded. He went on: "I was betrothed to the child, Freya, as soon as Rudolph died. This special betrothal commitment is tantamount to marriage in all but the consummation. On her sixteenth birthday there will be an official marriage ceremony. Then we must produce an heir. Therein lies my duty, my inescapable duty. But I have my own life to lead. This is my public life; but I shall have my private one."

"Which you plan to share with me?"

"Which I am going to share with you. I could not live without it. One cannot be a puppet all one's life, moving in the way which is ordained. No! I will not do that. I wish I could give it all up and go off quietly with you ... and live in peace somewhere. But what would happen if I did? Chaos. War. I don't know where it would end."

"You must do your duty," I said.

"And you and I—"

"I shall go back to England. I can see that it is impossible to live the life you suggest."

"Why?"

"Because it would not work. I should be an encumbrance."

"The most adored and loved encumbrance that ever was."

"An encumbrance nevertheless. I sometimes think that Rudolph's involvement with my sister may have been the cause of his death. It might be that I should be the cause of yours."

"I'd be prepared to risk that."

"And children?" I said. "What of children?"

"They should have everything a child could desire."

"My sister had a child. I wonder where that child is now? Imagine it. A little boy. I know it was a boy because she told me. What happened to him? Where did he go when they killed his father and his mother? You talk of our being together, having children. In secret, I suppose. And Freya, what about her part in this?"

"Freya would understand. She knows ours is an arranged marriage. I should make her understand."

"I know her very well. I doubt she would understand ...and that I should be the one ... that would be insupportable. I can see the impossibility of it all and that I must get away quickly."

"No," he cried. "No! Promise me this: You will not run away and hide yourself. You will tell me before you do anything."

He had stopped and put his hands on my shoulders. I wished that he would not look at me in that way, because it was harder when I faced him and I felt all my resolutions melting away.

"Of course I will tell you when I am going," I said.

He smiled confidently. "In time I will make you see. Tell me ... what did you feel when you saw me?"

"I thought I was dreaming."

"I too. I have dreamed of it often ... coming face to face with you ... finding you suddenly. I always knew I should find you. I intended to. And to think that I might still be in England ... searching ..."

"What did you do? Whom did you ask?"

"I went to the stonemason's place. I knew that you were friendly. He was no longer there. The vicar was away. There was someone doing his duties in his absence. He told me that your aunt and her husband had moved away, but he did not know where. There was no-one at Greystone Manor except servants."

"Surely my cousin was there."

"They said he was away on his honeymoon."

"Honeymoon! Oh no. That could not be."

"That's what I was told. It was like a conspiracy against me. I did hear of your grandfather's death."

"What did you hear about that?"

"That he had died in a fire."

"Did you hear anything about ... my connection with that?"

He frowned. "There was some innuendo. I didn't understand what it meant. It was oblique comments. I stayed at the inn. They didn't seem to want to talk very much."

I said, "On the night my grandfather died I quarrelled with him. People in the house heard it because he was shouting at me. He was insisting that I marry my Cousin Arthur and he threatened to turn me out if I didn't."

"How I wish I had been there!"

"That night he died. His room and the one next to it were burned out. The fire was confined to those two rooms. My grandfather was dead when they brought him out ... but it was not asphyxiation. He had had a blow on the head. They thought he might have fallen ... but on the other hand he might not."

"You mean they thought it was foul play."

"They were unsure. The verdict at the inquest was 'Accidental Death.' But several people had heard the quarrel between us."

"Good God! My poor Pippa. If I had been there ..."

"If only you had! I had my Aunt Grace. She was good to me and Cousin Arthur was kind ... and my grandmother left me money which enabled me to get away ... to come here."

He held me tightly against him. "My dearest Pippa," he said. "I shall look after you from now on."

For a moment I lay against him, letting him believe it could be possible—and perhaps deluding myself.

He said: "That's all over now. It must have been a nightmare. I should have been there. I hesitated on that platform. I was coming back to get you and then I thought How can I if she does not want to come?"

"I did want to come. I did. I did."

"Dear, dear Pippa, if only you had!"

"Where to? To this hideaway you are planning? A hunting lodge in the forest. It is like a pattern repeating itself. Francine and myself. We were always close ... like one person. Sometimes I think I am reliving her life. We were always together until she loved so unwisely ... and now it seems I have done the same."

He was looking at me earnestly. "It is going to be the wisest thing you ever did—to love me."

I shook my head. "I wish you were an ordinary person— an equerry perhaps, as I first thought you to be. I wish you were anything but what you are ... with those commitments ... and particularly Freya."

"We are going to rise above all that. I am going to show you the place I will find for you. Our home. I want to give you everything I have."

"But you can't. You can't ever give me your name."

"I can give you my devoted love ... all of it, Pippa."

"You must think of your marriage. I have grown fond of Freya. She is a child yet ... and charming. She will lure you to love her."

"I am not to be lured away from my Pippa. Oh, Pippa, dearest Pippa, listen to the birds singing. "The lark's on the wing ... All's right with the world.' Remember that? It is Pippa's song. All must be right with the world while you and I are together."

"I must go back. I shall be missed. You too, I daresay."

"We shall meet again ... tomorrow. I will find somewhere where we can be together. It has to be. It is no use fighting against it. From the moment we met, it was clear to me. I said, 'This is the one out of the whole world and no one else will do.'"

I shook my head. I was hovering between ecstasy and despair. I knew I was going to weaken. I knew that I had to take what I could get.

He was aware of it, too. I had betrayed my emotions too readily.

"Tomorrow. Tomorrow, Pippa. Promise. Here."

So I promised, and we went back to our horses. When he had helped me to mount he took my hand and looked at me beseechingly and I loved him so much that I knew in my heart that I would do anything he asked of me.

I withdrew my hand, for I was very much afraid of my emotions, and I said as coolly as I could: "We must not ride away together. We might be seen. Please go ahead."

"We'll go together."

"No. I prefer it this way. It might be difficult for me to get away freely if we were seen together."

He bowed his head and accepted the wisdom of that. "Perhaps for a while we should be careful," he said. He kissed my hand fervently and rode away.

I remained there for some moments looking at the lodge. I was in no mood to go back to the schloss immediately. I was forming excuses for my absence. Freya would want to know where I had been, and I decided to tell her that I had felt the need for fresh air and exercise after the previous night, and had taken it in the forest.

Suddenly I had the desire to dismount and go and look at Francine's grave. I felt as close to her as I ever had. I tethered the horse and walked round the lodge.

As I approached the grave I had the uncanny feeling that I was not alone. At first I thought that I was being followed by someone who had seen my meeting with Conrad. I felt cold with terror. Why is it that one can sense the presence of another person? Was it due to some sound I had heard? Was it instinct?

I had reached the enclosure. I saw a movement ... a flash of colour. Then I realized that there was someone at the graveside.

I drew back, not wishing to make my presence known, for I guessed it must be Gisela. I stood very still, holding my breath. Then a figure rose. She had a trowel in her hand and had been planting something.

It was not Gisela. This was a young woman, taller, fairer than Gisela. She stood still for a moment, looking down at her handiwork. Then suddenly she spoke. "Rudi," she called. "Come here, Rudi."

Then I saw the child. He must have been about four or five years old. His hair was like sunshine, fair and curly.

"Come here, Rudi. Look at the pretty flowers."

I watched, while the child went and stood beside her.

"Now, we must go," she went on. "But first..."

I was amazed because they knelt down together. I saw the child, his eyes closed, the palms of his hands pressed closely together, his lips murmuring. I could not hear what was said.

They stood up. The woman was holding a basket in which was the trowel in one hand, with the other she took that of the child.

I drew back in the shadow of the bushes which grew in clumps in this spot, and I watched them come through the gate and walk away into the forest.

My heart was beating fast, my mind racing.

Who was she? Who was the child? And I had stood there, numb, watching them. I should have spoken to her, discovered why she was tending my sister's grave.

But I had not lost her. I could at least follow her and see where she went.

I kept them in sight. It was not difficult for me to remain hidden because of the trees which provided me with good cover. And after all, if I was seen why should I not be someone who was taking a walk in the forest?

We had come to a house—small but pleasant. She released the child's hand and he ran on ahead of her up the path to the door. He danced up and down on the porch, waiting for her. She came along and let herself and him in, while I stood there watching.

I felt amazed by what I had seen. Why had she tended Francine's grave? Who was she? More important still, who was the child?

I was not sure how to act. Could I knock on the door, ask the way and engage her in conversation?

It was already late. I should find it difficult to explain my absence. Another day? I thought. I'll come back. I shall have time to think how is the best way to tackle this.

With my mind whirling through what I had seen and my meeting with Conrad, I was bemused and uncertain, wondering what would happen next, and telling myself that I must be prepared for anything.

When I returned to the schloss I had to face Freya, who had missed me.

"Where have you been? Nobody knew what had happened to you."

"I felt the need for fresh air."

"You could have got that in the garden."

"I wanted to ride."

"You've been in the forest, haven't you?"

"How did you know?"

"I have my spies." She narrowed her eyes and for a few seconds I thought she knew about my meeting with Conrad. "Besides," she went on, "here is a clue." She picked a pine needle from my jacket. You look really frightened. You are not what you say you are. You are planning a coup. That is why you are of independent means. Whoever heard of a governess who was not terrified of losing her post and being turned out on the streets?"

"You have," I said, recovering my equilibrium. "And here she is."

"Why did you go off without telling me?"

"You were fast asleep after your experiences as the belle of the ball, and I thought you needed your rest."

"I was worried. I thought perhaps you had left me."

"Foolish child!"

She threw herself at me suddenly. "Don't leave me, Anne. You mustn't."

"What are you afraid of?" I asked.

She looked at me steadily. "Everything," she said. "Marriage ... change ... growing up. I don't want to grow up, Anne. I want to stay as I am."

I kissed her tenderly. "You'll manage it all right when the time comes," I reassured her.

"Will I?" she asked. "I am very rebellious and I would never tolerate mistresses."

"Perhaps there won't be any."

"That," she said firmly, "is how it will have to be."

"There is a saying in English that one should cross one's bridges when one comes to them."

"A very good one," she replied. "That is what I shall do. But I shall cross them in my own way."

"Knowing you, I am sure you will put up a good fight to get what you want."

"The trouble is that Sigmund seems the sort of person to get his own way. Does he seem like that to you, Anne?"

"Yes," I said slowly. "He does."

"Then it will be a question of which is the stronger."

"There may not be a contest. It is just possible that you will both want the same things."

"Clever Anne. You will be there with me. I shall insist. I shall make you my Grand Vizor."

"That is something you put on your head. I think you mean Vizier, and I am sure I should be most unsuitable for the post."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," quoted Freya, almost smugly.

I laughed but I was thinking, What am I going to do? I must go. Yet he will never allow it. I shall stay. We shall live out our lives together ... in the shadows perhaps, but together ... as Francine and Rudolph did.

And I must discover who was the woman who planted flowers on Francine's grave. And perhaps more important than all, who was the child?