Saturday, the 29th of January 1938 dawned with the family dressing to attend mass. As one united body, we escorted Evangeline to the Cathedral of St. Florin for morning mass. The attendance was strong that morning. The handsome older gentleman at the rear of the church went unnoticed by all in the party except Father and me. He looked down as if in prayer as the family passed by. Parish Priest Henny expressed his anticipation of our appointment the following afternoon. He encouraged the entire family to attend the Saturday mass more often.
By mid-morning, the entire household was prepared for the unknown guest, except Evangeline, who had changed attire no less than five times. She would allow no male of the household in. Mother, Frieda, and Sara were all in with her. I attempted several entries for over an hour, only to be repeatedly rebuffed. The formal receiving room had been chosen, against my judgment. A more secluded setting suited the occasion. Mother and Father deemed it inappropriate, adding that the receiving room has doors as sufficient as any other room in the house for privacy. Father, I, and Eva would attend the count. Mother offered to stay beside Eva, but without knowing Mother was privy to her previous life, she politely declined the support. The thought of having Mother divulge her knowledge to her crossed my mind, but it could easily backfire, causing additional distress to her.
At last, Evangeline joined my father and me in the receiving room. Her dress was simple and modest, with delicate flowers on a field of white. The leaves and stems, the subtle shade of her eyes, white shoes, pearls, and gloves complimented the outfit. She looked every ounce the lady she was. Both Father and I offered to sit beside her, which she refused, taking a seat in what would normally be Father's chair. We both understood her need to command the room and said nothing, taking seats across from her.
The count arrived promptly and was shown into the receiving room. Both Father and I stood to welcome him. I extended my hand to Eva, and she graciously accepted it, turning her attention to greet the count. Both were speechless as their matching green eyes met, their intended greetings forgotten. Their fingers barely touched as he had been in the midst of a bow. The room crackled with an electric tension as a father laid eyes on the daughter he had long believed to be dead, and his daughter, in turn, found the father she had thought had abandoned her at birth.
I had thought the resemblance striking upon meeting him yesterday. However, as they stood across from each other, Evangeline’s lineage could not be denied. I understood why Father had immediately surmised the truth when I called from Paris.
Suddenly, Evangeline broke the spell. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Count.” She allowed not a note of emotion. The greeting bore no depth whatsoever.
“Mademoiselle Allard, the pleasure is entirely mine.” The count's voice nearly cracked with emotion. A pure contrast to her greeting. I felt as if he wanted desperately to sweep her into his arms.
Father offered a chair to Evangeline’s left, which the count readily took. Father signaled the footman, and coffee was served to each of us. I knew her look well. At a guess, she longed to pour all her feelings out, but the woman sitting in front of him would protect that little girl at all costs. Father waved the footman out. The doors were closed, and so began round one.
“May I speak frankly?” The count asked her, his voice now strong and assured.
“I expect nothing less,” she said, her voice cold as the ice edging the windows.
The count repeated the explanation he had told Father and me the previous day, with more detail included in this version. He relayed the exact story, including the emotion of Maria betraying him by never divulging Eva’s survival or loss in Paris. Except this time, he allowed tears to flow. Knowing Eva so well, I would say his passions ran deep like his daughter’s. He likely could not stop it with her here before him. He excused himself, wiped his face, and waited for, I assumed, Eva’s judgment.
“How could you love such a heartless, cruel woman? A woman who would sacrifice the child of the man she supposedly loved for herself. For her selfishness?” The emotion ripped out of her like a knife. “A dog is a better mother than that heartless, spoiled bitch!” Eva stood. I thought at first she would strike him, but she turned and crossed the room to the window. I saw her draw her handkerchief, dabbing her eyes.
I looked at the count and then at Father. We stood as one and excused ourselves from the room. Part of me felt sorry for the count. My intuition told me the story rang true. His heart was as broken as the daughter in that room with him. Sadly, he would have to withstand the wrath that should be cast upon the heartless mother Eva so vilified. Being part of that caste, I understood Maria. Something I dared not say to Evangeline. Maria had no idea what it was to suffer on the level Evangeline had. To her, being denied the love she longed for, forced to marry a man she hated, those things were torture to her. In her mind, she cast Evangeline away to protect her. A life of righteousness with the sisters is undoubtedly better than the suffering she endured. Then, when she disappeared in the attack in Paris, she likely assumed she was dead. Again, she would be spared the suffering of life.
Father and I sat in the hall just down from the receiving room. Screaming came to both of us. I bowed my head in prayer, asking God to allow healing if possible. Please let her heart find some healing from all of this. A quarter of an hour passed without another raised voice. Then I felt a peace. I almost expected the lady in the mirror to appear. It had an ethereal feeling to it. Father must have felt it too. He patted me on the back and grabbed my arm gently. We proceeded to the study, and he shut the door behind us.
“I predict a very long day for those two. Let us leave them to heal each other and learn who the other is.” He poured a generous glass of liquor for both of us. We toasted and sat together in the comfort of the room, enjoying something I cannot name.
Our butler, Frieda’s father, brought an envelope, but he handed it to me. “Thank you, Liberman,” I said, opening it. A telegram, in code, of course. Our code from Stella, though, so it must be Karl. Father offered his desk, and I got to work. After several minutes, I puzzled out the message but could not believe it. So, I set about decoding it again from scratch. The message came out exactly the same. I took up the glass Father had poured and drained the contents. I needed to find Fritzy. The message was not from Karl at all. Will had compromised himself and sent the message personally. The sign-off “Strotter” meant he had abandoned his position with the Reich in Vienna and would be considered a traitor. Will was now somewhere in the sewers of Vienna, trying to escape.
*SCHUSCHNIGG DANGER*GUIDO PAPEN TRAP*BERCHTESGADEN FEBRUARY* STROTTER*
Father came to me at the desk, “Alexsander, are you alright?”
“No, I need to find Fritzy, now?” I said.
“He is at the guest house. I will send someone to get him.” Father left the study even as he spoke the words.
I understood the individual pieces, but how did they fit together? The first part was obvious. Guido Schmidt, Schuchnigg’s supposed friend who was one of Hitler’s puppets, just as Papen had set a trap? Or had Will planned a trap? Berchtesgaden, Hitlers alpine sanctuary, in February. It just could not be. Even Kurt could not possibly trust placing himself at the mercy of Hitler at his very private, heavily guarded mansion.
I stood transfixed, staring at the message, trying to produce other variables. Father returned to the study. He quietly went to stand by the fireplace. I noticed him, but my mind spun with the possibilities of the message.
I looked at him, “Father, please contact Cousin Leopold outside Salzburg. He assisted Will with returning to Vienna. I believe he may return to him rather than use his original plan. I do not have any idea when, though. Relay the message as cryptically as possible, please.”
“Why are we being cryptic?” Fritzy said, entering the study as father left.
“This is why,” I said, handing him the message.
“Scheisse!” Fritzy’s quick mind understood the meaning of the message immediately, “I will pack to catch the next train.” He started toward the door.
“No, we do not know where Will is. Help me code a message to Karl. He would not have risked contacting him. I will have Father extend an invitation to Schuschnigg to Innsbruck. We will try to discover his itinerary in a very normal, upfront way.” Fritzy initially looked at me in shock, but as I finished, he whistled.
“Nice, exceptionally smooth, Sandy. All legitimate, cousin to cousin, how are you? How about a ski holiday to relax for a day or two.” Fritzy came around the desk, and we started putting together the message to Karl.
When we finished, I rang to send the telegram and returned to the study. Fritzy and Father were discussing the best way to approach Schuschnigg. Father proposed a trip to Vienna. The direct approach, he said, I hated it, but it made sense. He would go to Vienna on business for the day. Make an appointment to see Kurt very openly. Propose the trip, press for a commitment, then leave on the train. He would make a side trip to Salzburg and visit with Cousin Leopold. It worked, and they were unlikely to suspect him. Surprisingly, he suggested he take the count along for insurance. Regardless of the count’s assurances to the contrary, Father implied his family ties would assure them unmolested passage within Vienna.
“How are things going with Eva and her father?” Fritzy asked.
“Damn!” I said, heading toward the door.
“Alexsander, they are fine. I checked when I went out. The door is still closed, and voices are still in moderation. I took the liberty of ordering them a meal, as I did for us.” Father said with a gentle smile. He resumed his original seat. The three of us sat in quiet for some time. Where are you, Will? The thought came without warning. I stood over to stare out the window at the snow-covered landscape. Vienna would be cold. The trip to my cousin was dangerous going cross-country. The sewers offered warmth of a sort. Also, he had some anonymity and an extensive tunnel system to work his way outside the city without the general population being any the wiser. There were spies, though, as there were anywhere. I whispered a prayer for him.
Fritzy’s voice broke into my thoughts. “He’s smart, Sandy, he’ll get out safe.”
“Let us pray Gerhard Schmidt plays no role in why he abandoned his position.” Fritzy’s face paled as I turned to him. My words struck home.