I spent a restless night, torn in two by worry for Klara, who I had not seen even at dinner, and for Tilde and the baby. I didn’t dare go look for them because I was being watched like some insidious traitor. If they didn’t stop me at the door, and it seemed almost certain they would, they would tail me. If I were fortunate enough to find Tilde alive, I would only be leading death to her.
It wasn’t until I went to breakfast the following morning that I saw Klara. I’d expected to see her looking like she’d spent a difficult night—perhaps with rumpled clothes or dark shadows under the eyes—but she looked flawless. Smooth, clear skin, shiny coiffed hair, a fashionable ensemble that had never seen a wrinkle. She smiled broadly, but rather than being comforted, I was chilled.
“You look well,” I said, sitting as a footman placed a plate of sausage and eggs before me.
“Never better,” she said.
“I was worried for you,” I said. “The head matron seemed ready to swallow you whole.”
“You’re so funny, Hanna. Frau Scholtz really is a duck once you get to know her.”
“I’d never have imagined you describing her like that. She’s ruled this place with an iron fist.”
“Well, the job she’s doing here is an important one and she takes it seriously. I regret not being more serious about my studies here. I’ve squandered opportunity, but I’m resolved to make the most of the rest of my time here. I hope you’ll take my advice and do the same.”
She sounded so polished; it was like sitting across from an actress from a radio advertisement. They’d done something to her. I couldn’t be sure what, but she wasn’t the Klara from the day before.
“Um, yes. Of course. And speaking of which, I ought to freshen up before our first class. Best foot forward and all that. Are you finished?”
Her plastic smile returned. “That’s the spirit,” she said, standing to join me.
When we got to my bedroom door, I took her by the elbow and pulled her inside.
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked.
“Why nothing at all. I’ve never been better.”
“What did they do to you, Klara? You can tell me.”
“The head matron just reminded me of my duties. Nothing more. I wonder if you don’t need a similar reminder, Hanna. I’d be only too happy to tell her you’d benefit from a chat as well.”
“No, thank you,” I said. “If you won’t tell me what they did to you, at least swear to me you didn’t betray Tilde and the baby.”
For a split second her face fell, but her composure returned. “We really ought to get to class, Hanna. We have precious little time left here and we must make the most of it.”
“Klara, tell me what you told them,” I hissed. “Their lives depend on it.”
“I’m going to class,” she insisted. “And if I don’t see you there in ten minutes, I’ll assume the head matron needs to know of it.”
“I don’t know what they did to you, Klara, but I will find out. You’re not yourself.”
Her expression hardened. “I assure you, I’m more myself than I ever have been. I’ll see you in class.”
She left the room with a decorous click of the door. I clutched myself around the middle, feeling as though I were breaking in two. I couldn’t breathe for worry about Tilde and the baby. For worry about what they’d done to Klara.
I had to get to class. If I betrayed that I knew anything was wrong, appeared withdrawn or apprehensive, I would find out for myself what they had done to my friend.
I fought with every ounce of my conviction to regain mastery of myself, but I wanted nothing more than to scream. I went over to the basin of water kept in my room and splashed some on my face. I clutched my portfolio to my chest, the one Friedrich had embossed with my name for university, like a shield against a world that had left me friendless and walked out of my room. I shook with every step but moved forward.
The head matron was in charge of our morning class. A lecture, this time, on our duty to country and our beloved leader. She was impassioned as she spoke today. Even more than usual. It may have been my overeager imagination, but it felt as though she were looking more often at me than at any other face in the audience. I had my portfolio open and made the motions of taking notes so I had an excuse not to make eye contact. Of course, I could have copied down her overwrought patriotic diatribe, but instead I wrote down the names that kept churning in my head: Tilde, Simone, Klara . . . over and over again. There had to be a way to save them all, but I felt as helpless as the baby in Tilde’s arms against any of it.
We were dismissed to lunch, but the head matron and Klara were waiting for me at the door.
“Fräulein Rombauer, Fräulein Schmidt says you have been worried,” Frau Scholtz said.
I froze. A wrong answer to the question would be disastrous, but I wasn’t sure there was a right one. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to, but I suppose I have been worried about Klara, yes. She’s my friend.”
“I believe you’ve been under a lot of strain, Fräulein. There is to be a small party at the villa next door with many of the officers. You and Fräulein Schmidt are to attend with your fiancés. You may have the last session off to rest and prepare. I’ll have coffee and Lebkuchen sent to your rooms.”
Klara beamed and I forced a smile.
“I didn’t bring anything suitable to wear,” I said to Klara as we walked back to our rooms. “I hadn’t prepared for parties.”
“Everything will be ready for you,” she said. “No details left unnoticed.”
“Do you want to get ready together?” I asked. “Like old times?”
“I’m afraid I’ll need to take the time to rest. I want to be fresh for Ernst. I’m sure you’ll want to do the same.”
She walked briskly off to her room and I entered mine with dread mounting in my stomach. It was a party, but sounded as appealing as a hanging.
The events of the past thirty-six hours registered with my body, and I tossed myself on the bed. It took me a few moments to register the smell of the coffee and gingerbread that had already been delivered to my room and the dress that was hanging on the wardrobe door to air out. It was one of the dresses Tilde had made a year ago. Periwinkle blue satin, demure but not girlish. Perfect for an evening of cocktails with the officers. Aunt Charlotte had sent blue satin heels along with my diamond earrings and bracelet and a new aquamarine necklace. Pale pink lip gloss for just a hint of color. A new bottle of scent, too. It smelled clean and crisp like linen and cedar. Nothing overpowering and showy like French perfume, that would never do. No detail unnoticed, indeed.
This had been orchestrated for hours, if not several days. I wanted to leave it all behind and run. Run far away where Friedrich, Aunt Charlotte, and the head matron could never find me.
But I knew they would find me.
I would never be safe.
I curled up on the floor and pulled my knees to my chest. I swallowed the screams I wanted to let loose into the void.
After a while, I found my breath. I found the strength to sit. Then to stand.
Slowly, methodically, I dressed myself and made myself presentable for the soirée. I found no joy in the beautiful clothes made at the hands of a woman who may have already lost the fight to keep herself and her baby safe. As I zipped and fastened my way into my finery, I racked my brain for any plausible way to help Tilde. Every outcome played out her downfall, and my own.
Fifteen minutes before we were meant to leave, there was a knock at my door.
“I just came to see how you were getting along,” Klara said, entering the room. She wore a cocktail dress, not unlike my own, in a deep forest green that suited her complexion marvelously. I wondered if Tilde had been the mastermind behind that dress as well. It had to have been tailor-made, the way it contoured to Klara’s shape. She was the picture of health and beauty, and I wondered why Friedrich had ever grown cold on her. But there was no sense in trying to puzzle out his feelings in this matter or any other.
She scanned the space as she spoke, and I could tell she was looking for any sign of malfeasance. Her conversion over to their way of thinking was utterly complete now. There was no rescuing Klara, and my heart broke almost as much for her as it did for Tilde.
Almost.
I don’t know what they did to her, but it had to have been dire. Whether they tortured her physically or brainwashed her in the span of a night, something in her was broken.
“How very pretty you look,” she purred. “But then you always have been. Won’t it be nice to have an evening away?”
“Y-yes,” I said. My veneer was still thin. I’d have to do better by the time we reached the party.
She didn’t comment on any perceived lack of enthusiasm, but there was no doubt that she felt it emanating from me.
When we arrived at the villa next door, a small band was playing a graceful tune for the cocktail hour that mocked the churning of my gut.
The evening went on and, as was the custom, Friedrich paraded me in front of his colleagues, presenting me like I was a trophy he’d won. Champagne, canapés, and deadly dull conversation flowed through the room like a coursing river.
I excused myself to get some air on the veranda and scanned the grounds for as long as I could stand the bitter cold. I didn’t see Friedrich when I returned, so I decided to look for Klara, who had probably found a means of taking a short break from the festivities as well. I thought to look for her in one of the rooms adjacent to the ballroom, thinking there might be an obliging study or library for her to hide out in, but heard the sound of booming male voices coming from the room before I turned the handle.
“You understand the Führer will approve the plan and we’ll be able to make some real progress soon. I see no other interpretation for his recent actions.”
“It’s about time we were given the license to rid Germany of the scourge,” another disembodied voice said. “Germany should be for Germans.”
There was a murmur of approval from the voices in the room, and I heard the sounds of glasses clinking.
“There will be a day, not long from now, when we’ll be able to walk down the streets of our cities and know that the people we meet belong there. It will be a glorious day.”
I stood and tried not to gasp as I absorbed the meaning of his words. Not only was Tilde in danger, the rest of her people were as well.
I didn’t know how long the congregation in the library would last, but I couldn’t be found listening at the door. I turned to leave and nearly ran face-first into someone in the corridor. Klara.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t—” I said.
She pressed a finger to her lips and passed me an envelope and a small satchel. I peered inside. A change of clothes and a modest sum of money. The meaning was clear: Tilde had to leave, and fast.
“Find her,” she mouthed. “Go now.”
She turned and left for the party as though she’d never seen me.
I was flooded with questions. Was this a trap? Why couldn’t Klara go herself? Was she somehow at greater risk than I was?
I considered Friedrich and doubted this very much. If Ernst had been deemed an acceptable match by Klara’s parents, he was likely committed to the cause. But he didn’t have Friedrich’s rank or clout. Friedrich had more to lose if I shamed him. What’s more, I got the feeling that if Ernst’s love for Klara ever came into conflict with his duty, he would choose her. I labored under no such delusion that Friedrich’s loyalty to me extended that far.
But there wouldn’t be another opportunity. I didn’t risk going back to the ballroom, nor to the room where they kept our wraps. If I asked for my coat, people would know I’d gone and Friedrich would come looking outside that much sooner.
The frigid air burned my bare skin that so recently had been warmed by the glow of roaring fires in every room of the house. My lungs protested against the intrusion of the biting cold air, but I ran as quickly as I could in the direction of the caretaker’s cottage. There was no sign of life coming from the house, but she would have had to keep herself hidden anyway. I didn’t know if she’d found shelter elsewhere or not, but I had no other recourse but to look for her there before combing the forest in a cocktail dress and heels.
I entered the cottage, expecting to find nothing, but hoping that for the first time in ages, I’d be in luck.