Durham, England
1868
Before Niels arrived in England, he’d had no notion rain could fall so hard for so long. This wasn’t drizzle or mist but heavy sheets, falling on him constantly from the moment he stepped off the boat in Southampton. It adequately reflected his mood, so he found he didn’t altogether object to its presence. It was oddly fitting.
By the time three weeks had passed, they’d toured Westminster Abbey and the Tower of London, stood outside Windsor Castle, and visited so many churches he thought he’d scream if he heard another note of organ music. His father’s friend droned on about history with no awareness of whether his charges were paying attention. The man didn’t need any audience; the sound of his own voice was enough. They were in another church now, a cathedral. Niels didn’t care about the architecture; he didn’t care about some fellow called Bede—what kind of a name was that?—who evidently was responsible for inspiring the droning man to his scholarly pursuits.
“Might I have a quiet word with my wife?” From the look on the man’s face, Niels deduced that he’d interrupted him mid-flow. “Forgive me, it’s urgent.”
The Valkyrie gave him a strange look, but let him take her by the arm and lead her outside.
“Must we stand in the rain?” she asked.
“Must we stay with this awful man? I can’t bear it. Wouldn’t you rather be in Paris?”
“Paris?” For a fleeting instant, he saw brightness flash in her eyes.
“Why not? We’re adults,” he said. “He can’t force us to stay.”
“Perhaps not, but your father can.”
“I’ve got enough money on hand to get us there, but not much further.”
She hesitated. “How will we live?”
“I don’t know. You could go to whoever it was that drew you there in the first place.”
“They’ll find us eventually.”
“Yes, but…” He searched her eyes. “Even if we don’t have long, wouldn’t it be better than nothing?”
She didn’t reply.
“I ought to be clear,” he said. “I wouldn’t stay in Paris with you. I’d take you there and leave you wherever you’d like.”
“And then you’d go to your … friend?”
He nodded.
“Paris,” she said. “Yes, I’d like it, even if only for a little while.”
He sent a telegram to Ludwig from their hotel that night. The next morning, he received a reply. The following day, instead of exploring York, they left their guide wondering why they never appeared at breakfast. That evening, they boarded a ferry in Dover.
The journey brought unintended consequences. As Niels’s mother had hoped, he and the Valkyrie started to form a bond between them. She told him about art. He told her about music. They spent hours imagining how their parents had reacted when they’d learned of their disappearance. They were laughing when their train pulled into the Gare du Nord.
The mirth stopped as soon as they stepped onto the platform. Standing at the end of it, fury etched on their faces, were their fathers. They’d only have a few moments until they were spotted.
“It’s my fault,” the Valkyrie said. “Of course he’d expect to find me here. Paris was too obvious a choice.”
“If there hadn’t been an obvious choice, they’d have been waiting at the dock in Calais,” Niels said. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to him. “There’s only one way forward. We pretend we’re madly in love with each other and tell them we left England because we wanted a more intimate trip, just the two of us.”
“They’ll never believe it.”
“It doesn’t matter what they believe, it matters what they do next.”
“If you think they’re going to let us travel unaccompanied, you’re stupider than I thought,” she said. “They’ll lock us back up in Munich.”
There was no more time for talk. The two men were approaching. Niels did the only thing he could think of. He took his wife in his arms and kissed her.