Villa von Düchtel
1906
The police managed to reach Ursula’s house later that day and took Liesel away. We spoke to Kaspar privately and told him the details of the crime.
His shoulders drooped. “It feels more real now, knowing what happened,” he said. “I’ve been a bit numb. I never suspected Liesel. She was so innocuous.”
“She was unemotional and calculating, which made it easy for her to keep her guard up and evade suspicion,” Colin said.
“I can’t begin to comprehend that it’s possible to spend days in the presence of a murderer and not have the slightest idea.”
Ursula and Cécile came into the room. “I understand how you feel. I can’t begin to comprehend that it’s possible to spend years in the presence of a man who harasses women and not have the slightest idea.”
“What are you talking about?” Kaspar said.
“I know what you’ve done and shan’t tolerate it in my household. There’s a train that leaves Füssen in three hours. That gives you plenty of time to pack and get to the station.”
“Baroness, I don’t understand. There must be some kind of misunderstanding. I would never behave in an inappropriate manner in your house or elsewhere. Please, you must listen to me, I—”
“In fact, Herr Allerspach, there is no cause for me to listen to you. I’m ashamed that I hadn’t given my servants cause to have enough faith in me that they might have come forward earlier. Begone. I don’t want to see you again.”
He sputtered but didn’t speak and left the room.
“It is good to be rid of him,” Cécile said. Ursula sat down, tears in her eyes.
“I can’t believe it’s all come to this,” she said. “What a mess I’ve caused. I should’ve tried harder to find Liesel. I was broken, physically and emotionally, after her birth. I walked like a ghost into my marriage; and when I realized my husband didn’t even care to be my friend, I was crushed.”
“Crushed?” Cécile asked. “Why, given that you hadn’t wanted to marry him in the first place?”
“I was young and heartbroken when we married, but after a few months, I started to heal and I decided to open my heart to him. I wasn’t looking for romantic love, but I understood the need for a partner in life. We took an abbreviated wedding trip, and on the way home from it, I came to see that he was the sort of man I could befriend. I respected him. We were honest with each other, neither promising more than we could give. At least that’s what I thought.
“At the time, I didn’t know why his father was so insistent on him marrying. I assumed that Niels—that was his name—preferred the life of a bachelor, with no commitments, and that his parents wanted him to provide the family with an heir.”
“An ordinary enough situation,” I said.
“Yes,” Ursula said. “I didn’t realize how wrong I was until after his father died. Once he became baron, Niels had control over the family fortune. He could live however he wanted, and he told me I could, too. I didn’t think anything of it at first, not until we came into the country together.”
“To the old house that stood here?” Colin asked.
“No, to Schloss Hohenschwangau, to stay with the king, Ludwig the Second. My husband had an intimate friendship with him and within a few days, I saw that I would never have a partner in my marriage. Like a fool, I’d walked into another kind of heartbreak. This time, I wasn’t being wrenched away from the only man I would ever love; instead, I was losing what I believed was my last chance for a normal life. I wasn’t asking for passion or adoration, only understanding and companionship, but Niels would never be able to give either to me. His entire being was engaged elsewhere. Perhaps my expectations were unreasonable, but his betrayal wounded me deeply.”
“Why would he withhold friendship?” Cécile asked.
“He didn’t do it consciously. He’d have been quite content for me to live in the old house that stood here. He would’ve asked no questions should I ever have sought comfort elsewhere and would’ve expected the same from me, but those weeks at Hohenschwangau showed me that I never would have been content with that. I wanted more. So I returned to Munich and never lived with him again.”
“But Sigrid…” My voice trailed.
“Yes, Sigrid. I was lonely and I wanted someone who would always be mine. Ridiculous, isn’t it, to believe that’s what a child is? I thought she would fill the hole in my heart. She did for many years, but now she, too, is gone, like everyone else I’ve loved.”
“Was she close to her father?” Colin asked.
“Close enough. She inherited his love for Wagner and for der Märchenkönig. I never was able to fully escape Ludwig. I should’ve been more sympathetic to Niels. In a way, I tried to do the same thing to him that my father had done to me: keep him away from a love of which I didn’t approve. Now I’m ashamed of myself.”
“What happened to Niels?” I asked.
“Ludwig’s life did not come to a happy end,” Ursula said. “He’d all but bankrupted himself building castles and his eccentricities consumed him entirely. He started coming out only at night and would sleep all day. He’d take long sleigh rides in the moonlight. He was rarely in Munich and many people in the government believed he was no longer capable of performing his royal duties.”
“He was declared mad,” Colin said.
“Yes, although it’s a diagnosis I never could accept,” Ursula said. “Much though I hated him, my feelings were due to his standing in the way of my getting what I wanted. His ministers likely shared a similar point of view. There was madness in Ludwig’s family and it was easy enough for those with power behind the scenes to get what they wanted. He was declared unfit to rule and deposed.”
“He died shortly thereafter, if I recall,” Colin said.
“Three days later. The official account says that he killed his doctor and then drowned himself while they were walking along the shores of the Würmsee near Schloss Berg. The idea is preposterous. The man was far too full of self-importance to ever have done such a thing. Further, he was an excellent swimmer. I met the doctor who conducted his autopsy. He told me there was no water in Ludwig’s lungs.”
“So he didn’t drown,” I said.
“No. There have been all kinds of stories. People who heard gunshots. A boatman who claims the king asked him to help him escape that day. There’s a woman I know in possession of a coat that she claims Ludwig was wearing when he died; it has bullet holes in it.”
“Yet the official cause of death remains suicide?” I asked.
Ursula shrugged. “Many people prefer to avoid uncomfortable truths, and, in the end, those in power got what they wanted.”
“And Niels?” Cécile asked.
“He wasn’t at Berg that day. When they took the king into custody, Niels retreated to his old house here. When the news came that Ludwig was dead, he walked to the shore of the Alpsee and shot himself in the head.”
“How terrible,” I said.
“I often wonder what would’ve happened if he’d possessed the strength to go on. If I’d been more kind, more willing to meet him halfway, it might have been different. Perhaps we could have found ourselves friends. But one can’t go back.” She gave herself a little shake. “There’s no point dwelling on such morbid things.”
“It’s all so tragic,” I said.
“It’s why I can’t stand the sight of Neuschwanstein,” Ursula said. “Its construction led to nothing but infinite sadness.”
Dinner was a somber affair that night, but the wine was excellent and by the time we’d all retired to the music room and were listening to Max play the piano, the mood had already begun to shift. Birgit looked very much alone, but Max convinced her to sing with him. Her voice, untrained and pure, was lovely. She told me she had no intention of ever seeing Kaspar again, but the next morning, he sent a sleigh to collect her and she left, giggling. She was the only one of us who didn’t attend Sigrid’s funeral.
Felix arranged for Max to meet the director at Bayreuth and, soon thereafter, he and his Wagner tuba earned a seat in the orchestra. Ursula convinced Felix and Cécile to stay on with her in Bavaria until spring came.
“I still don’t understand why she’d want Felix with her as well,” I said once Colin and I were settled into our compartment on the train out of Munich.
“Because she knew Cécile wouldn’t stay if he left,” he said.
“Cécile may have indulged in a flirtation with him, but she’s hardly attached to the man. She never would’ve abandoned her grieving friend in favor of him.”
“Of course not, but, like Cécile, Ursula respects the value of tutelage. She wouldn’t interfere in such a thing.”
“Tutelage, again with the tutelage. Whatever do you mean by it? I’m not naïve enough to believe you’re referring to your university education.”
“It would be better, perhaps, if I showed you. Lengthy explanations can be so dry. Tedious, really. Dare I say boring beyond belief?” He looked deep into my eyes. “We’ve something of a history when it comes to train compartments.”
“Some of my favorite memories are connected with them.”
“Intimately connected, if I recall,” he said, pulling me close, “particularly on the Orient Express en route to Constantinople. Even so, I’m not certain we could claim exhaustive schooling when it comes to taking full advantage of them. How long until we arrive in Bremen?”
“Not long enough, but we’ll have the boat after that. Perhaps by the time we disembark in Southampton, I’ll have a better understanding of what you mean by tutelage, at least when it comes to confined spaces.”
“Rest assured, my dear, by then, you will be an expert.”