37

Villa von Düchtel

1906

After dinner that night, Colin and I asked Ursula if we could have a private conversation with her. We left the others in the sitting room with their coffee and retired to her study. My muscles were so stiff it required a serious effort to walk all the way there.

“Max told us about his family today,” I said, settling on one of the sofas and rejoicing at no longer having to move.

“Ah, yes, his family,” she said. “A strange lot, all of them.”

“Were you acquainted with his mother?” Colin asked. “He knows almost nothing about her.”

“Sadly, that’s for the best. She was considerably younger than his father and couldn’t be described as enthusiastic about the marriage. Although that’s not quite correct. Initially, I believe there was plenty of enthusiasm. He’d been married before, in his youth, but had lost his wife to some sort of disease. I don’t know the full story. He was alone for years and then met the lady who would become his second wife at the usual sort of party. She was pretty and charming and incredibly wealthy. They married and had Max. After his birth, his mother became rather unhinged. There was talk of her being a danger to the child. I never heard any details—I don’t think anyone outside of the family did—but I do know that when she died, it was a considerable relief to them all.”

“How did she die?” I asked.

“In childbirth, when she delivered a stillborn,” Ursula said. “Max was never told the truth about what happened. His father was adamant about that.”

“Why?” Colin asked.

“I never understood. The strange thing about it was that no one ever noticed she was with child. Admittedly, their house is somewhat isolated, but it always struck me as odd. I didn’t know her well, so it’s not as if I was in the habit of spending time with her. After her funeral, a group of us ladies started to chat, and we realized none of us knew she was expecting.”

“Was she a notably private person?”

“No, but a strange one. She used to wander along the trails by the Alpsee, no one with her but a footman who she required to stay out of sight with a picnic basket at the ready. Whenever she encountered someone else, she’d invite them to dine with her and call for the servant. After it happened to me the second time, I started to avoid the Alpsee altogether.”

“What did she talk about during your picnics?” I asked.

“Utter nonsense,” Ursula said. “It’s too many years ago for me to recall details, but I came away on both occasions wondering if she was quite mad.”

“Max seems so amiable,” I said.

“And stable,” she said. “I’m still relieved when I think of it. Madness can run in families, especially when it comes from both sides.”

“His father suffered from it as well?” Colin asked.

“He wasn’t like his wife, but he was a difficult man. Always reminded me a bit of Narcissus, from the myth. He was more than a little enamored with himself and, so far as I could tell, cared about no one else.”

“Max told us his parents were estranged, and that his father lived somewhere else,” I said.

“Yes, that’s right. After Max was born, his father spent virtually no time at the house here until his wife’s death. Which does make one wonder who was the father of the stillborn child. Not that it matters, I suppose.”

“Given the family history, would you have been quite content if your daughter had married him instead of Allerspach?” Colin asked.

“I would’ve had no reservations about the match,” she said. “It’s evident Max escaped any tinge of family madness and is a good man, kind and steady, if not the most confident when it comes to himself. Kaspar is the opposite, full of bluster and boast. If she’d married Max, I would’ve settled more capital upon her. He could be trusted not to squander it.”

The wind was howling outside, blowing so hard the windows rattled in their frames. “I thought the storm was over,” Colin said.

“Mountain weather does whatever it likes,” Ursula said. “Now the police won’t be able to get to us for even longer.”

“The truth is, if they came now—or had been able to reach us sooner—they would’ve arrested and charged Allerspach,” Colin said, “and I don’t think that would serve justice.”

“After you all left to go skiing this morning, he thanked me for being willing to increase their allowance so long as he agreed to Sigrid’s terms,” Ursula said. “That means she told him my intentions, which proves his innocence. He loves money far too much to eliminate his source of income.”

“His mistress is with child,” I said. “That’s a powerful motive for wanting rid of his wife.”

“Is she, the little harlot?” Ursula’s brow creased and her eyes flashed. “I ought not blame her. She’s young and stupid and he would’ve had no trouble taking advantage of her. I can’t help but wonder. In all the years they’ve been together, Sigrid never conceived a child. Perhaps Birgit is lying to trap him into marrying her now that he’s … Heavens, do you think she might be the murderer?”

“She’s certainly got a strong motive for wanting your daughter out of the way,” Colin said.

“She strikes me as wholly incompetent,” Ursula said. She tapped a finger against her lips. “Could she have fired the shot?”

“The evidence points to her, but it’s all circumstantial,” I said.

“So what do you do next?” she asked. “If there’s nothing physical to connect her to the crime, how do you catch her?”

“The best way is to manufacture a situation that will make her confess,” Colin said.

“That is an excellent plan. Let’s do it now,” she said.

“It’s not time,” I said. “Something is still tugging at me, telling me that we haven’t yet uncovered the whole story, and until we do, we won’t be in a position to confront her or anyone else.”

“It sounds to me that there’s enough indirect evidence to make a girl like that crumble.”

“If she’s guilty, I doubt she’s as vapid as she’d like us to think. She would’ve had to bring a gun with her to the house, ski a not inconsequential distance, climb a tree, and kill your daughter from an awkward position with a single shot,” Colin said. “That’s not the work of a short-witted, unfocused child. It required planning and skill. If she’s capable of that, she’s capable of standing up to pressure unless the evidence against her is so strong that she cannot deny that the game is up.”

“Yet you believe the police would arrest Kaspar without any physical evidence?” she asked.

“At this point, I do,” Colin said. “It would’ve been the simplest thing in the world for him to take a pistol with him on the sleigh ride, kill his wife, and make up the rest of the story. Generally speaking, when a person is murdered, the spouse is guilty more often than not.”

“There is another possibility,” I said, and told her about Gerda’s experience with Kaspar.

“Hans wouldn’t have wanted to stand by and see someone who treated her like that get away with it,” Ursula said, “but I cannot imagine he would commit murder.”

“Why not?” Colin asked.

“He’s not that sort of man.”

“Murderers rarely seem like they are,” I said.

“I’d like to speak to Gerda.”

“She didn’t want me to tell you any of this,” I said. “She’s afraid of losing her position.”

“I would never let such a thing happen.”

“People tend to believe masters over servants,” Colin said. “If she knows Emily has betrayed her confidence, she won’t trust us again.”

“I won’t let her know I heard it from you,” Ursula said. “I shall summon her, inform her that I’m concerned about Kaspar’s behavior, and get her to tell me the whole story.”

“That’s not a terrible idea,” Colin said. “Emily, you should be there as well, to analyze her behavior, ask any questions you think are pertinent, and see if her story has changed at all since you spoke to her.”

I worried that would look too suspicious, but in the end, we settled upon a method that, while requiring a bit of fiction, would enable Ursula to bring up the subject without Gerda suspecting I’d told her mistress about it. Colin left the room and Ursula called for the maid. Gerda blanched when she saw me, but I gave her what I hoped was a supportive smile.

“Would you like some coffee?” Ursula asked after telling her to take a seat. Gerda was perched on the edge of one of the settees, looking so uncomfortable she gave the impression it was stuffed with shards of glass.

“No, madam, thank you.”

“I need to speak with you about an uncomfortable and awkward subject, one that has been troubling me for some time. I meant to bring it up earlier, but my daughter’s death prevented me from doing so. I mentioned it to Lady Emily this morning, who encouraged me to delay no longer.

“It cannot escape anyone’s notice that my son-in-law, Herr Allerspach, is not a gentleman, not in the true sense of the word,” she continued. “He is a brute and a boor and he thinks he can take whatever he wants. A few months ago, in Munich, we were dining at a friend’s house, and I witnessed him trifling with one of the maids. Then, a few weeks later, I heard him boasting to a friend that he makes a habit of such actions. I was horrified, of course, and want to be sure that sort of behavior is not tolerated in this house. Rather than go to the housekeeper, I’d prefer to talk to each of you maids privately. I’m all too aware that some employers blame their servants when such things happen, but to me that’s at least as outrageous as the initial harassment.”

Gerda looked at the floor and clenched her hands in her lap. Her knuckles were white.

“Has he interfered with you?” Ursula asked.

“He has, madam, but I’m all right and I’d rather not talk about it any further, if it’s all the same to you.”

“I won’t press you for any details you’re not comfortable sharing. It’s enough to know he’s behaving in an unacceptable manner. Has he done the same to other girls in the household?”

“Yes, madam, at least three of them.”

“I’m more sorry than I can say. Once this storm passes and the roads are open, I’ll fling him out of the house and he will never be welcome here again.”

“You’d do that, madam? For us maids?”

“No one should be subjected to such treatment,” Ursula said. “Men need to be shown that such behavior will not be allowed. Did you tell anyone else about what happened?”

“Does it matter?”

“I’d like to make sure anyone who knows is aware of my feelings on the matter.”

“I told Lady Emily.”

Ursula turned to me. “Emily, why didn’t you come to me directly?”

“It’s my fault, madam. I begged her not to,” Gerda said. “I was afraid you might not believe me. I only told her because, well, what with Frau Allerspach being murdered and her husband, who was in the sleigh with her, being so awful … it seemed like the sort of thing that had to be mentioned.”

“I understand,” Ursula said. “Did you tell anyone else? The other maids, who shared their stories with you?”

“Yes, and Hans.”

“You two would like to marry soon, wouldn’t you?”

“As soon as we’ve got enough money saved, yes.”

“I imagine he would’ve liked to give Herr Allerspach a whack on the head after what the man did to you,” Ursula said.

“Oh, he was right mad, madam, but he’s not the sort to lash out. Not like that.”

“Surely he wanted to defend your honor?”

“No, madam, he didn’t look at it that way. No permanent harm done. We both need our positions and don’t want to cause no trouble.”

“In the future, please know that I will always believe you when you confide in me,” Ursula said. “If anything like this ever happens again, no matter who is the perpetrator, you are to come to me straightaway.”

“I will, madam, I promise.”

“I’d like to speak to Hans now. Will you send him to me?”

It took nearly a quarter of an hour for the groom to come to the room. He’d been cleaning out stalls in the stables and wanted to make himself more presentable before meeting with his mistress.

“I ought to have spoken with you about all this, madam,” he said, “but I didn’t think it was my story to tell.”

“Isn’t it more that you wanted to protect Gerda?” I asked.

“Of course I did, but I see now that I wasn’t really succeeding in doing that.”

“I can understand why you assumed her position might be at risk,” Ursula said, “but had you no desire to protect her from Herr Allerspach?”

Red blotches popped out on his face and neck. “Yes, yes, I did, but what was I to do? Confront a man like that? A boxer?”

“You wanted to fight him?” I asked.

“Wouldn’t you? If you were a gentleman, that is, madam,” he said.

“I would want to,” I said, “in fact, I do.”

“I feel the same, of course, but he’s got more money than I could ever count and he’s a boxer and, if you’ll excuse me, Baroness, he’s your son-in-law and you’re likely to believe him over me. There wasn’t no good that could come from going after him.”

“None at all?” I met his eyes.

“Well … if I can be candid?”

“Please do so,” I said.

“I would’ve felt a great deal of satisfaction if I could’ve punched him in the face, even just once.”

“Personally, I would’ve wanted two or three good blows at least,” Ursula said. She assured him, as she had Gerda, that Kaspar would no longer be welcome in the house, then dismissed him.

As he made to leave the room, I stopped him. “What happened to your face?” I asked. “However did you get that bruise?”

“A mishap with a horse. It looks worse than it feels.”

“What sort of mishap?” Ursula asked.

“I got caught between him and the wall of his stall.”

“I’m glad you weren’t more badly injured,” she said.

“Thank you, madam, I am as well.” He gave a little bow and left.

“Do you believe him?” I asked.

“About the bruise? I do,” Ursula said. “He’s always been a hard worker and has never given me cause to doubt his honesty.”

“And the rest? Was his manner as you expected?”

“I expected him to have been a bit more nervous,” she said, “but he clearly has the courage of his convictions.”

“Colin had much the same impression when he initially interviewed him,” I said.

“So is he no longer a suspect?”

“He had both motive and opportunity,” I said. “He’s bound to be a capable skier, could’ve left the stables at any time that morning without drawing attention to himself, and has a bruise that could’ve been caused by recoil from the pistol.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” She sighed. “What now?”

“Colin and I will interrogate everyone in the house—servants and guests—again. Someone had to have seen something they don’t consider significant. I won’t give up until I’ve discovered what it is.”