Therese von Hochstetten joined her daughter, Adele, at the door that led to a vast garden with many trees and a pond where ducks brought up their offspring and frogs and fish made up a diverse population. She followed Adele’s gaze and frowned at a lonesome figure under a large willow tree in the pavilion. Her niece Sophie was immersed in her papers, furiously writing and completely ignorant of anything else. It has been that way since she arrived nearly two weeks ago and neither of them had been able to reach her, to find out what was so clearly troubling her.
“Has she eaten anything yet?”
“I don’t know, Mummy.” Adele whispered dejectedly. “I asked Cook to send one of the kitchen maids with breakfast, but I haven’t dared to look.”
“Well,” she squared her shoulders, “I guess it is up to me then. This can’t go on any longer. I won’t have it.” She took her skirt in her hands and with determined steps hustled to the pavilion to find out what was going on with her niece.
Ever since her sister’s death, Sophie had become closer to Therese’s heart. Karoline’s early death was a shock to everybody, and Sophie’s father had sent her to stay with Therese soon after. He had no idea how to care for a girl of seven years; neither did he know how to comfort the little girl who had loved her mother so dearly. Therese tried to be there for Sophie, which wasn’t always easy, but with cousins her age it became clear that Sophie was opening up.
Therese would never forgive herself for what happened to Sophie during the summer at her estate when her niece was only fourteen. She felt responsible for Sophie’s accident, although she knew there was nothing she could have done to prevent it. Sophie had always been a tomboy, but once Karoline no longer had a calming influence on the wild
girl, there was nothing to stop her from taking a nearly untamed horse for a ride.
When they found her broken in a pool of blood, Therese thought she wouldn’t survive, but the doctors at the hospital worked hard to keep Sophie alive and to heal as much of the injuries as possible. The recovery took months. Her niece spent the rest of the summer and a good portion of the fall in the hospital, confined in a corset of plaster for her back and hip. Her right leg was put in a cast for it had been broken in three different places.
Fortunately, the doctors saved her right eye, leaving a large scar, but they had to remove her uterus due to an awful injury by a metal rod.
After discharge from hospital, Sophie became more withdrawn than before. It took all of them a lot of patience when she lost her temper over her failed attempts to regain the strength in her limbs. Somehow, with a stubbornness that reminded Therese of her sister, Sophie was able to walk without a cast for her right leg and with only use the support of a simple cane.
All these years later, Sophie had grown up, but she had never recaptured her spontaneous attitude toward life. Therese stood at the edge of the pavilion, reluctant to disturb her niece’s concentration and feeling her determination waver when an amused voice startled her.
“Are you going to say what you have come for or not?”
“There is no need to be disrespectful, young lady,” Therese shot back.
Sophie slumped in her chair. She took off her glasses and hung her head in shame. “I am sorry, aunt. Forgive me.”
Therese went over to her niece and gently caressed her hair before depositing a kiss on top of her head.
“I forgive you, sweetheart.”
She sat in the chair to Sophie’s right and covered her hand affectionately, forcing her niece to face her.
“I worry about you, Sophie. Something is bothering you, and before you try to deny it, let me remind you who is talking to you. I know you. I can tell that something is very wrong.”
Sophie gazed at her aunt’s face. Worry lines were marring her other-wise still smooth forehead. The lines in the corner of her eyes were more pronounced than ever, and her green eyes were troubled. All on her behalf. Her aunt resembled her mother so much, not only in her appearance, but also in her demeanour. Her gentle ways made Sophie feel like the lowest creature on earth for treating her so badly.
Aunt Therese had always been there for her. Every time she needed a place to retreat, she would provide it. When she was at odds with her father, which was more often than not after her mother’s death, she would go to her aunt for comfort. Maria and Adele were more like sisters than cousins. Sophie looked into her aunt’s eyes and slowly felt her resolve crumble.
Therese reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her niece’s ear before she cupped her right cheek in her palm.
Sophie didn’t flinch. She closed her eyes and let the tears escape silently, no longer able to hold them in, and she didn’t have to when she felt her aunt gathering her in a warm embrace.
“I’ve got you, darling,” Therese cooed, all the while stroking Sophie’s hair tenderly.
Sophie was a brilliant linguist, but she utterly failed where her feelings were concerned. She could translate any ancient text, but when it came to expressing her emotions she was lost.
When Sophie calmed down, she told her aunt everything about her friendship with the Duchess of Darnsworth. She left out nothing and spoke about the feelings she had developed for Eleanor and thought were mutual. “My feelings are ridiculous because not only is the duchess married, but she also showed me a picture in her cameo of a beautiful woman who must be her special companion.”
“Sometimes things are not as they seem, Sophie,” Therese suggested gently. “What has she told you about her marriage or the picture?”
“Nothing, because I didn’t give her the chance to,” Sophie said ruefully. “Besides, what would have been the point? She is a married woman with three children. What is supposed to become of this?”
Therese sighed. She had always known about her niece’s preference for the female sex, much the same as her daughter Adele’s. Unfortunately, society wouldn’t acknowledge it or support such relationships, at least not if a woman openly lived her love for another woman.
Women had always found ways to evade convention and live their lives in accordance with their own rules, and society looked the other way as long as it was done discreetly and according to the boundaries society had set for them. Her niece was brave enough to defy these conventions in her manner of dress and occupation, and Therese admired her for that. But to be regarded as an eccentric for wearing men’s clothes was one thing. To live openly with another woman as a couple was something completely different. Society was hypocritical, but not even Sophie’s money would protect her if somebody were to call the law on her. Her niece’s uncompromising nature had caused her unnecessary heartache, and Therese wished she would take a step back and listen to reason as well as to Eleanor’s side of the story.
“You are in love with her,” Therese told her, not beating around the bush. Sophie opened her mouth to object, but her aunt put a finger over her lips to prevent her from talking, so she closed it again.
“Don’t try to deny it. I know you are. That’s why you are here. You ran as fast and far as you could think to go. But let me tell you, it won’t simply go away. This is different, I can tell. It is nothing like with Elisabeth. Somehow, I believe this is real, and you know it. That is why you so stubbornly refused to talk about it.”
“It doesn’t matter, though, one way or the other,” Sophie insisted. “Even if we admit our feelings, which I am not convinced are completely mutual, it would be pointless. They return to England at the end of the summer. So better to stop—or rather, not begin anything at all—which is bound to end anyway.”
“You could always accompany her.” Therese was getting exasperated at Sophie’s stubbornness.
“I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I can’t leave them alone.”
“What are you talking about? Who?” her aunt asked, utterly puzzled.
Suddenly comprehension dawned, and Therese understood what she referred to. Sophie felt responsible for her stepbrother and stepsister whom she loved dearly.
“You are not their mother. They are not your responsibility.”
“But they are, don’t you see.” Sophie argued passionately. “Emma is going to marry this bloody bastard, and who will be there for her when it turns out to be a mistake?”
“Her parents.”
“Hardly.” Sophie scoffed at the mere idea. “Father wouldn’t listen to any argument, and Helen is looking forward to an invitation to the next Emperor’s ball due to Count von Bernthal’s connections.”
“Still—”
“No.”
Her niece would have none of it. There was no point in discussing the matter any longer.
Two weeks had passed since Eleanor asked to forward a letter to Sophie, but when there was no reply, she realised that there was no point
in waiting any longer. Their friendship was over, and her hope for something more had been destroyed as well. She hoped Sophie was well and that she herself would be able to put this whole affair behind her. The feelings Eleanor had for Sophie ran deeper than she wanted to admit. For the sake of her family, she put on a brave face, all the while mourning the loss of an unrequited love. The occasional visit of Helen and her family didn’t help much either.
One evening after the Hagendorfs had been their dinner guests, Emma handed her the much-longed-for letter from Sophie. Eleanor excused herself and went to the library to read it undisturbed. She ripped open the seal and through the first three lines realised Sophie was gently but determinedly ending their friendship, telling her in no uncertain terms that nothing would ever come of her attraction.
Eleanor sank into a chair, her left hand covering her mouth to stifle the sob threatening to escape. She felt like an old foolish woman who was making a laughingstock of herself for chasing a vibrant young woman. Who was she fooling but herself?
This whole affair had been a mistake right from the beginning. She had already experienced the love others never knew, which had to be enough. Eleanor had been very lucky; she knew that, because ever since she was a girl in her teens, she had known who and what she was. Her grandmother’s relationship with Giulia helped a lot to allow her to realise her own nature. Henry’s love for her and his own need for protection had afforded her with possibilities she had grasped without second thought.
The moment she had met Cathleen she knew she would do what she could to keep her in her life. Eleanor had been over the moon when Cathleen told her the feelings were reciprocated. Theirs had been a wonderful relationship, full of love and caring. Never once had Eleanor looked at any other woman the way she had at her lover. After Cathleen’s death, her desolation was complete for she had lost the love of her life, her mate, her best friend, the second mother of her children. She hadn’t thought it possible to feel romantic love again, but here she was, mourning the loss of another lover and they hadn’t even kissed yet.
“Stupid woman,” Eleanor chastised herself as she threw the letter in the top drawer and slammed it shut. She took off her reading glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying in vain to ward off the headache she had felt coming for the better part of the day. She would live but she wouldn’t put her heart at risk again. Time to move on. Another love match was just not in her cards. Such things only happened once in a lifetime, and the sooner she accepted that, the better. Her heart had hoped, to no avail. Better to let bygones be bygones.
“Please, tell me you are not going for a ride now,” Adele’s voice stopped Sophie dead in her tracks. She slowly turned to her cousin who had her arms crossed over her chest.
“Why not?”
Adele rolled her eyes at Sophie’s tone. “Because it is going to rain. There will probably be a thunderstorm and on your usual route there is no shelter.”
Sophie laughed at her cousin’s forecast. “Don’t be ridiculous. It is a perfectly fine day. The sun is shining, not a single cloud is in the sky.”
“Sophie, I’m not joking.” Adele put her hand on her cousin’s arm, her eyes as serious as she had ever seen them. “You must listen to me! It happens very fast here. One minute there is sunshine, and the next, rain is falling heavily, and the temperature drops about ten degrees.”
“Nonsense.” Sophie shrugged off the hand and stalked out of the house. She shook her head at her cousin, wondering how a rational woman like Adele could tell such superstitious nonsense. Sophie mounted her horse and galloped from the stables. It could rain heavily in Salzburg, she was aware of that, mostly for days on end, but this was ridiculous. So far, this had been the driest summer in years in this part of the country.
The sudden changes Adele had predicted seemed completely out of the question, but when Sophie had been gone for about an hour, the light breeze became a harsh wind followed by rolling thunder. She stopped her horse and studied the sky. The wind was whipping dark clouds westward. A thunderstorm, just as Adele had foretold, was fast coming her way. Sophie spurred her horse into action, hoping to outrun the rain. But it soon became clear there was no point. The first heavy drops were falling, and she could see no place to seek shelter to wait until the storm passed.
With the rain intensifying, the wind turned cooler as well. Sophie wore only a light shirt which was already soaked through, and she was shivering as she forced her horse to go on. By the time she recognised the outlines of her aunt’s estate through the rain, she and her mount were both exhausted. She guided the horse towards the stables where a stable hand came rushing out, helped her from the horse, and she staggered to the house where she nearly fell into her aunt’s arms.
“Goodness!” Therese caught her and guided her to a chair. “Elsie! Get a hot bath ready for my niece and tell Cook we need a big pot of hot tea and chicken soup as soon as possible. Also, a hot bottle for the bed.”
The maid rushed off and did as she was asked as Adele joined her mother to help get Sophie to her room, out of her wet clothes, and into the bathtub.
“Didn’t you tell her there would be a thunderstorm?”
“Of course, I did,” Adele replied indignantly, “but she wouldn’t listen.”
Her mother sighed. “Would she ever?”
Together they manoeuvred Sophie into the tub. Although the water was hot, she couldn’t stop shivering from the cold that had chilled her to the bones. Her teeth were chattering so badly she could hardly speak.
“I . . . I am . . . s-so sorry,” Sophie apologised to her cousin.
“It’s all right,” Adele said. “Just don’t get sick, you bonehead.”
“H-How?”
“How did I know? I’ve lived here my whole life,” Adele said in explanation, “we just know such things. Sometimes, like today, you can smell the rain in the air.” Adele shrugged.
Sophie acknowledged her comments with a nod. She was desperate to get warmer and could kick herself for her own stupidity. This wasn’t good, not good at all.
Aunt Therese had hoped the bath would prevent her niece from falling ill, but when Sophie developed a fever followed by an awful cough, those hopes were dashed. Over a number of days, they tried every treatment they could think of, but when nothing helped, Therese called Doctor Wagner, an accomplished physician and old family friend.
“It’s pneumonia,” Doctor Wagner announced as he took off his stethoscope after listening to Sophie’s laboured breathing. “I will write down a few remedies she’ll have to take religiously, and we can only hope she is strong enough to recover.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Therese said.
“Does she eat? She’s very thin. She also needs to drink enough,” the doctor advised while writing down a prescription for the chemist.
“I will take care of it,” Therese assured him, when they heard a delirious mumble from the bed. The words were not quite intelligible.
The doctor glanced questioningly at the countess. “Do you know what she is saying?”
“A name. Eleanor.”
“Where is this Eleanor? Perhaps her presence could help with your niece’s recovery.”
“Unfortunately, the woman in question doesn’t agree,” Therese said bitterly. She was already regretting that she had told Sophie to give Eleanor a chance. By the time Sophie was out of her head in feverish agony, Therese sent a letter to Vienna to ask Anton to inform the duchess about Sophie’s condition. When there was no answer from the woman in question, she thought maybe Sophie had been right after all and this Eleanor wasn’t worth the effort.
“Try again,” Doctor Wagner insisted. “It might be too late if you wait too long. Maybe if you sketch the seriousness of the situation, she will change her mind.”
“I will think about your advice, Doctor,” she said thoughtfully.
The second post had just been delivered when Emma bounced down the stairs. She was hoping for another of her fiancé’s letters. Despite his air of superiority, Count von Bernthal seemed genuinely taken with her, proving Emma’s sister Sophie wrong. He was charming and not at all the brute her sister believed him to be. Emma was sifting through the post, which mainly contained letters to her parents, when somebody rang the bell impatiently. She didn’t wait for the butler to show up but opened the door herself. A messenger was standing on the other side of the door, nervously stepping from one foot to the other.
“A telegram, Miss.” He held out the envelope.
Emma accepted it and ripped open the envelope. The short message was from Sophie’s aunt, urging Anton to tell the Duchess of Darnsworth that Sophie’s condition was serious, and if she held any love at all for her niece she should come at once. Emma crumpled the piece of paper in her fist and closed the door with a bang.
“Who was that?” her brother asked from the back of the hall.
Emma jumped at the sudden presence of her brother.
Anton took off his riding gloves as he bolted towards the table to survey the mail himself.
“Nobody,” she said.
Anton thought she was acting strange, and his suspicion was con-firmed when his eyes fell on the envelope in his sister’s hand. As soon as she realised where he was looking, she tried to hide it behind her back, but it was too late.
“What are you hiding from me, Emma?” he asked as he stepped closer.
“Nothing.”
Emma tried to escape, but Anton was faster and caught her arm. He pried open her clenched fist and smoothed out the telegram. Reading through it not once but three times finally made Anton realise what had been going on and what his sister was trying to hide.
“How long have you known about this?” Anton hissed angrily, forcing Emma to take a step back. She had never seen him that angry. “Never mind!”
He swung around and left the way he had entered. Outside, he stopped the stable hand from leading his horse inside, climbed into the saddle, and hurried off to deliver this urgent message.
“I am telling you, I have to speak to her Grace. It is urgent,” Anton argued, his voice booming into the hall.
Benson blocked the doorway, annoyed at the young count’s insistence. “And I have told you more than twice that her Grace isn’t available.” The butler stood his ground. If her Grace wasn’t inclined to receive visitors, he would be damned if he’d let the count pass because he thought himself more important than the wishes of a duchess.
“What is this commotion, Benson?”
The butler turned towards the voice and found the duchess on the first landing, demanding an explanation.
“I am sorry for the disturbance, your Grace,” Benson apologised.
Anton stepped from behind the butler, whose body in the doorway had been shielding him effectively from the duchess’ view
“My apology, your Grace. I didn’t mean to cause you any inconvenience, but this is rather urgent.”
Eleanor descended the last flight of steps. “Thank you, Benson.”
The butler bowed humbly and closed the door behind Anton before he silently left the hall.
“What is so urgent, Count, to intrude in such a manner?” Eleanor was slightly miffed at the young man’s forwardness.
“It is about Sophie. She has fallen ill.” Anton cut to the chase, before the duchess lost her patience and threw him out.
“Come!” Eleanor didn’t wait for him to follow but headed briskly to the library where she poured herself a stiff whiskey and took a healthy gulp before she faced Anton again. He stood only a few feet away and had the presence of mind to close the door behind him.
“Tell me!”
Instead of telling her, he held out the telegram from Sophie’s aunt. Eleanor read through the message and sank into a chair next to the liquor table.
“What does she mean? What letter? I had no idea Sophie was ill.”
“I know,” Anton said with regret. “Neither did I.” He looked pleadingly at her. “Please, go to her. She needs you. You will never forgive yourself if she doesn’t recover and you haven’t seen her one last time.”
The duchess gazed strangely at him with an expression of anger mixed with desperation and sorrow.
“What is it to you?” she asked.
“She is my sister. I love her, and though it hurts that she isn’t asking for me, I do know why she is asking for you. Please, I beg of you, go to her. For both your sakes.” Anton implored, seeing a flicker of pain in her eyes but it was too short to be sure.
“I know about loss, young man,” Eleanor said sadly.
“I don’t doubt that. The more important it is to see Sophie, don’t you agree?”
Eleanor closed her eyes and let her heart speak to her. She knew what she wanted, but whether she should was another question. She took a deep breath before she felt her decision.
“In the drawer of the desk you’ll find paper and a pencil. Write down the Hochstetten’s address and then leave me alone.”
Without uttering another word Anton got to his feet and did as he was told. He wrote down all the information she needed to know and retreated to the door. Eleanor’s voice stopped him mid-motion as he reached for the handle.
“Thank you. No matter what happens, I consider myself forever indebted to you.”
Anton was stunned and didn’t know what to say so he merely inclined his head and left the library.
Eleanor didn’t know how long she sat there after Sophie’s brother left. She reread the message in her hand over and over again. With a heavy heart, she finally went to the hearth to ring for Benson. The trusted butler arrived in the library as quietly as ever, awaiting his mistress’ commands.
“Please tell my husband and Mister Carstairs I want to speak to them, Benson.”
“Yes, your Grace.”
“Thank you. And ask Charlotte to join us as well.”
“Certainly, madam.”
He left without a sound and Eleanor was already planning her next steps while she waited for the others to arrive. Thankfully enough, the three of them entered together and she didn’t have to repeat herself.
“Jonathan, would you please book a first-class compartment on the next train to Salzburg?”
“Yes, of course. Anything else?”
“Make sure a carriage is waiting when the train arrives. A suite in one of the hotels in the city needs to be arranged and another carriage put at my disposal.”
“Certainly. Anything else?”
“No.” Jonathan left with his assignments. She knew he need not ask why. She rarely asked him to do anything for her and he was always happy to be of assistance to her.
“Charlotte, would you please accompany me to Salzburg?” Eleanor asked.
Her daughter was surprised but agreed readily, “Of course, Mama.”
“Hold your horses,” Henry interrupted. “I am so unused to you spouting orders injudiciously and travelling on a whim. What is this all about? Why do you have to go to Salzburg all of a sudden?”
“Because the woman I have foolishly fallen in love with over the past few months is in Salzburg,” Eleanor explained very calmly, although she didn’t feel like it at all, “and she has fallen terribly ill. There is a chance she may not recover, and should that happen without me seeing her one last time, I would never forgive myself.”
“So, it is true, then,” Henry whispered.
He was watching her carefully, as though she seemed strange to him. She couldn’t stop pacing. Her left hand was stemmed into her side while she kept brushing her hair from her forehead nervously. She felt sick to her stomach and didn’t have time to deal with Henry’s concerns. She only felt gratitude that Charlotte didn’t seem to have any questions.
“How and when did this happen?” he asked. “I thought you didn’t care for her?”
“Oh, don’t be daft, Henry!” Eleanor exclaimed, her eyes burning into her husband’s. “Why would I spend so much time with somebody I do not care for?”
“Politeness?” He scratched his bald head awkwardly. “But why her? I mean, I don’t know. Isn’t she too young? She certainly isn’t the type of woman you are usually attracted to.”
“Pray tell, Henry, what is the type of woman I am attracted to?” Sarcasm dripped from Eleanor’s mouth, thick as honey. “And as far as too young is concerned, she is not. Sophie is thirty-two years old, which is hardly too young. Most would think her too old, and they would call her an old maid, wouldn’t they?”
“I just meant that she is nothing like Cathleen.”
“Nobody is, was, or ever will be. Cathleen is dead, and I have come to accept that fact. It was very difficult, and you know better than anybody else how much I loved her and thought there would never be anyone else I could love as much, but I think I’ve found the one person I could feel that kind of love for again.”
Wiping tears from her eyes, she turned away from her husband and daughter. They had always hoped she would finally overcome her grief and be happy again, and now that she was trying, they were disappointed. Maybe there was no need to go, Eleanor thought sadly. The telegram from Sophie’s aunt sounded quite serious. She could be too late already.
“What Papa meant was,” Charlotte gently put her hand on her mother’s shoulder, “we don’t want you to get hurt. You have been through so much already, and we want you to be happy.”
“Oh, darling, don’t you think I don’t know that?”
Eleanor saw Charlotte’s all-too-serious face and cupped her daughter’s cheek in her palm and pressed a tender kiss on her forehead.
“I am aware of that, and I love you for it, all of you. We simply can’t help who we fall in love with. Sophie is a very loving woman. She is chivalrous, caring, and scared to death. She left Vienna because she was afraid and hurt. I have so much to explain, and I need to do so before it’s too late.”
“All right, Mama. I will gladly come with you then.”
“And I shall go help Jonathan,” Henry said as he hastened toward the door.