The remaining train ride to Paris had been pleasant. But neither Erich nor Freya brought up anything more about their future, her goals, or even his hopes that they could be together. She wasn’t sure what had changed, but there was a new distance between them. And she didn’t know what to do about it.
Right before she stepped off the train, he pulled her into his arms and clung to her. His kiss was intense, powerful, and quick. Then he stepped away, walking through another car, leaving her clutching her stomach with one hand, the other clinging to the wall of their corridor.
By the time she also exited the train, he was nowhere to be seen. But she wasn’t expecting to see him. Passengers rushed to board behind her. Then she thought she glimpsed Erich boarding a train on a different track. Where would he be going? Perhaps she’d imagined it. A part of her panicked that he wouldn’t be on her return trip. What if she never saw him again?
Unsettled, as she searched the train platform, she looked for Lord Bouchet or her grandmother and saw neither. She lifted her satchel and her violin and moved farther out into the crowded Paris station. The crowds closed in around her, and she pushed her way through the jostle and the brushing of other passengers all the way out to the street. There was her grandmother’s car, or she assumed. She approached the driver. “Excuse me.”
He turned and then smiled. “Miss Winter, your grandmother sent me.”
“Thank you.”
The driver’s kind eyes gave her a measure of comfort. He took her bag and then opened the door for her.
Their drive through Paris was the same as it always was, but she knew it to be her last visit. Perhaps she would come again with her parents. Or . . . did she dare even wonder if she could be with Erich? He’d kissed her. He said he wanted to be together. Was such a thing possible for them? He seemed odd, like he was waiting for something, as if something was holding him back. She couldn’t know. They had one more journey together and then everything would end. One more journey if he made it. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he had continued on toward London. What if that last kiss was goodbye?
Her breath shuddered through her.
The streets of Paris were as crowded as ever. She trained her eyes to see what she could of the exposition. A group of people ornately dressed in costume, white faces, and long flowing kimonos walked by.
“A group from the Japanese pavilion.” The driver pointed them out. Freya studied them, awed at a culture so different from her own.
At last they arrived in front of her grandmother’s townhome. Freya thanked the driver, who placed her bag just inside the door.
For a moment, the home was quiet. Then Givens, the butler, arrived and bowed. “Welcome back, Miss Winter. Your grandmother is in the drawing room.”
“Thank you.” Her feet moved slowly. She appreciated the ornate woodwork of her grandmother’s front entryway. How sad to think Freya would not often be back, if at all. The footman opened the door to the drawing room, and Freya hurried in, suddenly anxious to see her grandmother.
She sat at her tea, a lovely spread of food on a table nearby. Freya’s stomach rumbled. “Grandmother.” She hurried to her and sat at her side. “It is so good to see you.”
“And you, child.” She reached for her hands. “How was your travel?”
“Most excellent. I think after all this time, I will miss the train.”
“I’d imagine so.” She patted her hand, her face seeming strained. “Have some refreshment. I hope this will suffice. I didn’t feel up to a full meal at this hour.”
“This is perfect. I had dinner on the train.” She didn’t tell her that she mostly ate small bites and that it was cold, but she really didn’t want something heavy to eat. The sandwiches and tea looked just right. “Have you seen much of the exposition?”
“I have a bit. Lady Bouchet and I have discovered that if you go in the early morning, most people are not out yet and you can walk without being encumbered about by people everywhere.” She fanned her face.
“What has been interesting?”
“Oh, all of it. We’ve taken to visiting the national pavilions. She and I don’t travel as much as some, not even as much as you.” She clucked. “And these pavilions make me feel like I’ve visited their countries.”
“If you could, where might you go?”
She waved her hand. “I’m well past dreams. I learned long ago that dreams are but the silly fancy of a young girl’s heart. Practicality and reason rule the day when it comes to real life.” A certain intensity reflected in her eyes, and Freya wondered what more she was really trying to say.
After they ate their fill, talking pleasantly of their comings and goings, Grandmother placed her teacup on the table with a certain finality. “We’ve had further news from your parents.”
“Have you?” Freya’s stomach twisted.
“Yes.” And then her grandmother’s lip quivered. She lifted a handkerchief to her face.
“What? What is it? Mother?”
“No, they are well. I’ll let you read the letter yourself, but this is the gist of it: Your father has come to the realization that if you could still marry someone like Lord Bouchet, then you could marry someone of his choosing just as well. If he is to pass on his business to your future husband, it may as well be someone who knows the business. He’s chosen a man from his own team who already works for him and wishes for you to come home immediately to accept his hand.”
“Immediately?” Her hands shook. “Before the concert?”
Her grandmother’s hand reached for hers. “That is what he says.” She shook her head. “I don’t even know what I’ll tell Lady Bouchet. We had our hearts set on Lord Bouchet as the perfect match for you.” She searched Freya’s face. “Will your heart break at his loss? No, but you will miss him, won’t you? At any rate, we know nothing about this man your father claims to have chosen, not even his age. The letter is so cryptic. How am I to feel settled at all about your life if we don’t even know if the man is agreeable?”
“Dear Grandmother, you are so kind to me. I don’t deserve such goodness. But I don’t understand. What would Father have me do?”
“He’s included tickets for passage on the next train to London. I’m afraid he’s quite serious.”
Her world tilted. She clutched at the arm of their sofa. “And I still have the tickets to return to Salzburg?”
“You do, but surely you can’t think of disobeying. He would be furious. Where would you go, child? What would you do?”
“I can’t desert my orchestra, Grandmother. I’m the first-chair violinist. I have solos. They are announcing the winners of grand prizes. I could make the professional orchestra, not to mention I have one more week of my program to finish.” A determination like she’d never known tightened inside of her. “No.”
“No?” Grandmother’s eyes seemed to hold a glimmer of hope. “Can one just say no?”
“I don’t know, but I’m saying it.”
“There’s further news.”
Freya nodded, swallowing. “Let’s have the lot of it then, so that I might consider my situation.”
“As I say, you are to come, to marry this man who he does not even name. This new man would receive your dowry and eventually the lot of your father’s business and your hand in marriage. He’d better be worthy of you.” She dabbed her eyes again. “If you do not do as he says, you are without dowry or means and are cut off from any inheritance.”
Her face clenched, and tears fell without her even knowing at first. “But why? Why should he care so much? He doesn’t need me.”
“I believe he does. Railroads aren’t the great investment they once were. He was certain when they’d discovered gas that it would be the wave of the future, but he has no means of funding all the exploration and research it would take to do that. He needed another partner and investor.”
Freya waited to understand how this had anything to do with her.
“You and your dowry are part of that bargain.”
Freya closed her eyes. “I see.” She thought for many minutes, memories whirling around in her mind. Then she shook her head. “I don’t care about his timing . . . his demands that I return right now before the concert . . . ridiculous. But I will consider doing as he says after I complete my obligations, after the ball, and after I finish my program.” She would look for any and all avenues of escape from the life her father had chosen, but if she had no other means, then she had no other means. She would return and do as he said. Though she felt the very jaws of a life of misery opening up to swallow her, she patted her grandmother’s hand that was clutching her forearm. “Lord Bouchet is to be my date to the ball, did you know?”
“I didn’t know.” She studied her face. “Are you certain? Your father is not used to being defied. If you are cut off, darling, you don’t have any way to care for yourself. You cannot simply live in Salzburg by yourself. How will you eat? I could send you something from time to time, but you know I cannot defy your father either.”
“I’m certain. To you, I might seem like a woman without options, but to me, I am a woman who has a bargaining chip. I just learned how much he needs me. If I cannot live in Salzburg,” she sighed, “I will at least finish my experience in Salzburg.” She choked on the last word. Then she stood. “Thank you, Grandmother. I think I’ll retire.”
“Certainly, dear. Whatever you wish.”
Freya ran from the room.