Father brought forth several letters from his breast pocket. One letter bore the characteristics of being well-read. The envelope was creased and worn. Another, obviously much newer, was without the telltale signs of being read repeatedly. He opened the fresher letter and began to read in a muffled voice.
“Count Victor Amadeus Savoy lodged in Klausen Austria (at that time) from July 8 to July 18, 1902. After departing his room on the 18th, there are no further sightings or records of the count concerning this matter.” Father cleared his voice. Replacing that letter in its envelope, he removed the worn letter from its envelope. He read one line only from this letter. “On July 16, 1902, Archduchess Maria Dorothea Amalia of Austria, spouse of Philippe Duke of Orleans, bore a healthy female child, Maria Evangeline Amalia, under God's eyes within Säbon Abbey.” He folded this letter, replacing it in its envelope.
The count’s eyes seemed to hold more moisture than eyes should. However, he did not shed a tear. The count sat still as a statue. Staring daggers into my father's eyes.
“Understand, my friend, the papers I have read to you do not belong to me. The investigation originated without my knowledge years ago. These things have only come to my attention since I contacted you. Make no mistake, I reached out to you immediately as soon as the information came to me.” Father laid the envelopes down in front of the count. The count's eyes softened. He reached for the letters, and Father slid them over to him. “Before you read the letter from the Abbey, please brace yourself, my friend.”
After reading the envelope, the count scrutinized Father and then removed the worn letter. He began to read, his face softening. A moment later, his hand shook with the letter in it while the other reached for the arm of his chair. His eyes filled with tears. When he finished, he turned it over, looked at the empty back, turned it back over, and reread it. Placing the letter on the table, he reached for Father. “They told me the child had died. SHE told me the child had died. I came to the Abbey prepared to whisk the baby away. I understood why she could not keep the child. We were both terrified Philippe would find a way to prove her an adulteress. Then she would never be granted the nullity, and Philippe, well, you understand.” Looking at the letter, he asked, “Do you know where in Paris they took her? This Brother Stephen, does he know where she is? She.” He said the last word quietly. “My daughter, my God in heaven, all these years and she was alive.” The count sat still like a statue, staring at the letter for some time.
I excused myself to find the manager and make arrangements for refreshments. As I entered the room again, the two stopped talking immediately, but seeing it was only I who entered, they resumed. Father relayed the story while the count experienced emotions I doubted he had ever felt. The staff appeared with an assortment, placed everything on the table, and I assured them we would see to our own needs. I arose and attended to prepare coffee and water for all of us. Both were accepted graciously.
Horror struck the count's face when Father explained Brother Stephen’s inability to procure Evangeline’s safe passage out of the La Chabanais, and the story of their escape to Austria and procurement of their establishment in Innsbruck. Then, Father asked the count to read the other letter, if he would. The count acquiesced; we knew how he would react the second he read the part where the Abbey had contacted the Archduchess to tell her of the missing child, their role in the matter, and their inability to locate her through her father, Philippe.
“My God, she knew,” again, he laid this letter down. I thought he might collapse for a moment, but he gathered himself. “Unforgivable, absolutely unforgivable, all those years together after Philippe died, she could have told me at any time.” He stood angrily, paced to the window, and stared out. Time slipped by, and Father and I sat quietly, waiting for him to return to the table.
At last, he rejoined us. “Where is this establishment? I must see her; I do not know how, but I will devise a way to make her see that I love her. She is my child. I will take her away from that horrible… My God!” He laid his head in his hands. Father rose and patted him on the back.
“Victor, she is with me,” he said, coming back to his seat. “She is betrothed to Alexsander.” Victor stared at each of us in turn, disbelief showing in his eyes. I took the opportunity to tell Evangeline’s and my story quickly and without detail. When I arrived at the part where she accompanied us to Vaduz, his expression turned to relief, then joy. I briefly relayed the investigation her dear friend had conducted. Then, the discovery of the results in Paris the few days prior.
“Laurent, yes, I knew his father. French, but a good family despite their nationality,” Count Victor said. “Then she is here, with you, at your estate, Otto?”
“Yes, she is here with us. An exceptional woman, quick as a whip, head for business, tough as they come, Victor.” Father said, sitting up proudly, a strength of conviction in his voice. “She is not aware you are here. I told her I would invite you, but Evangeline’s circumstances create a myriad of difficulties. I did not wish to invite you to the house only to have you deny her existence. After all, you were about to challenge me to a duel to defend Maria’s honor mere minutes ago.”
Sadness took over the count's very being. “I loved her more than life itself the first time I saw her at court. One of God’s angels fallen from heaven. Our fathers detested each other. Although I had convinced my father of Maria’s love, she could not convince Archduke Joseph to give me an inch. We were exceptionally quiet about our affair but could not evade all suspicion. When her father married her to that ass Philippe, we tried to stay away from each other. For several years, we were successful. Eventually, his philandering and ill-treatment of her brought her back to my arms. She tried countless times to seek a decree of nullity, quietly, of course. The priest's sympathies lay with her, but no priest would grant it. They were candid with her. They would grant it if she could convince Philippe to petition for the decree with her. Otherwise, she could separate from him. However, he never stopped being enamored of her, regardless of his taste for others. She did try several times, but he would hear none of it.” Taking a drink of water, he continued. “So, she separated from him. We appeared in public separately, rarely staying in the same area. However, we would stay within a few miles of each other. Not long after the separation, she realized she was with child. Philippe had not engaged in sexual relations with her for over a year. There could be no doubt to whom the child belonged. Mutual friends had sought the use of abbeys, monasteries, and convents to assist with such situations. Therefore, she relocated to Klausen. I stayed over the border in Italy, close enough to enjoy much of her pregnancy with her. I thought I had convinced her to allow me to raise the child. In anticipation, I moved to the hotel. I had a nursemaid and nanny waiting over the border at a little estate I had procured just for the baby and me. A courier came the day after she was born with a letter from Maria, explaining the child had died in the night. My heart broke. I stayed on for another day, trying to see her. Eventually, I left, despondent. Two years passed before I saw her again. She had removed herself to Hungary, with express instructions to Philippe to come nowhere near her. Every summer she would visit Tyrol, but she would not see me.
Eventually, she declared she longed to be beside me again. Like a moth to a flame, I relocated to the outskirts of Budapest, and we lived the best we could. After Philippe’s death, I begged her to marry me, but she would not embarrass her family. The secret stayed in place. At her request, I could not even attend her internment at Hapsburg Castle, lest someone finally have proof of her infidelity.” The count stared at us both, “You are the only two living beings on this earth that know the truth. Although I will not willingly tarnish Maria’s memory, I will have my daughter, and to hell with what anyone thinks.”
The count insisted we stay for the midday meal. Inquiries concerning Evangeline were delicate. He avoided the untoward details of her life and instead focused on her interests, personality, likes, dislikes, and general disposition.
“I know we originally planned for Sunday after Mass, Otto. Surely you understand how fervently my need to see her?” Again, Evangeline’s very being reflected in the count's demeanor. She had the same uncanny ability to charm anyone she chose. I wished to interject but knew Father would already be far ahead of me in this game.
“Surely you do not wish to prey upon her security by taking her unawares?” Father said, pretending something akin to distress. Keeping a straight face was simple. Trying to prevent my eyes from reflecting the mirth I felt in his statement was more difficult. I looked down to avoid being caught in their little drama.
“Prey upon my own child, what an impertinent suggestion! You offend me yet again, sir.” The count sat forward as if to stand.
Father leaned forward, “Shall we duel over her, Victor? I can think of no better way to show your daughter the depth of your feelings for her.”
The count broke out in raucous laughter. “Otto, you are no man’s fool. It was one of the traits that drew me to you in the first place. Never have I seen you intimidated, even by the Hapsburgs while you courted Alexsandra. What do you propose?”
“With Alexsander’s permission, we might arrange a small informal gathering tomorrow. Let us say midmorning, after mass.” They both turned to me with questioning looks.
“Evangeline will need to decide for herself, but I see no reason to put it off.” There was the truth to it. Both of them could make any plans they wished, but ultimately, she would have the final say.
The rest of the afternoon's discussions turned to that of dictators, heretics, and the general fate of the world. In these discussions, I feigned complete ignorance. The count held a considerable amount of solid information, which I cataloged to write down later. Father played the game for me, making sideways inquiries about how he could have come by such valuable information, which the count tactfully sidestepped with more valuable tidbits. Much of it centered around Mussolini’s visit to Germany a few months earlier and the agreements that came of it, which included staunch support for Hitler’s continued campaign to assimilate Austria into the Reich. Antisemitism continued to gain popularity with Mussolini and his regime, although the populace did not care for this ideology.
On the drive back to the estate, Father set the tone. “I thought it best for you to meet the count without prejudice, having no time to form an opinion, ill or otherwise. Having known him for years, the thought of him abandoning a child seemed beyond reason. Make no mistake, there are faults there, as you heard, but unlike many in those circles, he has a heart; he cares about others. I wanted his side before making decisions about exposing Evangeline to him.”
“Father, has it ever occurred to you how alike we are? I may question you quietly occasionally, but you always have an objective. Thank you for acquiring the additional information about the Italian regime also.” My voice was genuine. I was immensely grateful for his gift of a reasoning intellect and a healthy dose of curiosity.
“Indeed, it occurs to me every time you rush to help others. A balance of Alexsandra and myself, I am afraid. Now, to Evangeline, would you like me to steer the ship?” He wore that cat's smile again.
I shook my head, “No, allow me to speak with her, Father.”
Franz and Eva were still out when we arrived home. I retired to my room, feeling emotionally tired for reasons I could not explain. Removing my clothing from the wardrobe, I put on silk bottoms and lay on the bed. Again, the unusual colors and textures struck me. Yet again, I could not quite put my finger on it. Laying very still, I let my thoughts float until I floated along with them.
Opening my eyes, the room was blanketed in darkness. I heard rustling and light filtered in from the sitting room. Frieda was working to light the fire in the fireplace. The room had become quite chilly. I felt the down bed cover over me. She must have covered me. I sat up, rubbing my face. Good lord, how long had I been asleep? As I made my way to the lavatory, I passed a clock. Only 5:30, it felt like I had slept all night. After a light toilette, I went to the wardrobe to dress. Frieda had entered the bedroom.
“Mein Herr, you are awake. Shall I bring you some coffee?” she asked me.
“No, Frieda, thank you. I will dress for supper and be down directly. Is Mademoiselle home yet?” I inquired.
“Oh yes, she and Herr Franz arrived home soon after you. She is in her room.” Frieda called, remaking the bed.
“Thank you, Frieda,” I said, coming out as she went in to gather my things and tidy up. I headed to see Eva.
A light knock brought a response from Sara.
I entered to find an empty sitting room. Eva’s voice rang out from the dressing room. She was almost finished dressing and would be right out.
I took a seat and waited patiently.
Eva appeared in a stunning black and red evening dress five minutes later. Her hair was piled high on her head. The ruby earrings from the set I purchased for her in Paris adorned her ears. A much smaller ruby necklace hung from her neck, almost touching the beginning of her cleavage. As always, her beauty struck my very heart.
“I see from your eyes you approve of the new dress.” She giggled as she said it.
I stood, crossed over to kiss her lightly, and led her to the small sofa.
“You are a vision of loveliness, Eva. Indeed, the dress is quite stunning on you. Would you care for an aperitif?” I offered.
“Should I?” She quickly inquired.
In response, I poured a small schnapps for both of us. I then joined her on the sofa.
“I know you will appreciate me coming straight to the point. Father and I met with Count Victor today.” I stopped as Eva gasped, almost spilling her drink. She set the glass down, placing her other hand on her chest.
She took a deep breath, “Please continue.”
“I apologize, my dear. Father, of course, invited him without your approval. I suspect he arrived last night. We spent most of the afternoon with him. The story he tells is a compelling one. If you are agreeable, he would like to meet you tomorrow.” I waited patiently, watching the emotions play across her face. Then she stood, going to the window; she looked out, still holding her hand to her heart.
“What did you think of him, Alexsander?” she asked the windowpane.
“Although you will find this hard to believe. I found him to be quite like you, Evangeline. Strikingly so in some ways.” She turned to look at me, a look of slight surprise on her face.
Turning to the window, she asked, “Can you explain how you find him so much like me?”
“He is shrewd, charismatic in an unexplainable way, and brilliant,” I said, and she turned, blushing slightly.
“When?” She inquired, crossing back over to sit beside me.
“Tomorrow after mass was his suggestion.” I took her free hand.
She thought briefly, lowering her other hand to cover mine. “Yes, I will meet him tomorrow. Will you attend mass with me?”
“Of course,” I gathered her in my arms, kissing her.