122. What everyone fervently desires
It was late afternoon when Lisa visited Mrs. Fitz's office. She usually had a sullen expression, but today, for some reason, she seemed brimming with determination.
“What’s going on, Lisa?”
Mrs. Fitz, closing her ledger, asked calmly. The hesitation was fleeting. Lisa, her face now settling, took a brisk step toward her desk.
“I am leaving Schwerin Palace.”
“What does that mean?”
Mrs. Fitz, her eyes narrowed, slowly removed the reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Her solemn gaze sent a chill down Lisa's spine, but she decided not to back down.
“I want to go to Baden-Wurttemberg.”
“Baden? I don’t think that’s what His Highness intended.”
“That’s true, but...”
Lisa quickly rubbed her reddened eyes with the back of her hand.
A letter arrived from Erna. It had been about ten days since she disappeared overnight.
Erna apologized for her choice to leave without a word, offering the farewell she hadn't been able to say that day. She expressed her sincere gratitude for the time they had spent together and how grateful she was. She also said that if it was difficult for her to remain in the Grand Duke's residence without her, she would ask Madame Fitz to help her find a job with another worthy family.
The day she received that letter, Lisa realized. Contrary to everyone's expectations, Erna might truly have decided never to return. Still, she waited, hoping for the best, but now it was too late.
“If you don’t want to stay here, then as the Highness instructed, I will introduce you to another family...”
"No!"
Lisa shook her head vigorously, expressing her firm refusal.
“I will go to Baden mansion in Burford. Please permit me. Yes?”
“Disobeying His Highness’s orders and doing as you please?”
“Oh, no! Here, Her Highness clearly told me to meet again!”
Lisa hurriedly handed the letter she was clutching to Mrs. Fitz. It was worn from repeated readings, and even stained with dried tears, but she still had no trouble recognizing Erna's neat handwriting.
"Lisa."
A new smile escaped Mrs. Fitz's lips as she read the letter carefully.
It was a predictable greeting, promising to meet again once everything was settled and offer a proper thank you and apology. Lisa, desperate enough to insist on this, was both absurd and aching, so she simply sighed softly. Well, Erna wasn't the type to leave behind a heartless greeting, so it wasn't entirely fair to dismiss Lisa as being unreasonable. But now, the "settlement" wasn't over.
Mrs. Fitz stood from her desk and faced the window overlooking the desolate garden. It seemed the time had come to abandon her optimism that Erna would return after some time of composure.
None of Erna's letters to her and Lisa contained Bjorn's name. She showed no sign of curiosity about the situation here. Her calm demeanor, expressing her wishes and asking for understanding, was characteristically elegant and stubborn, as was Erna's.
What could be better?
Mrs. Fitz turned, rubbing her throbbing forehead. Lisa's gaze, looking at her, was filled with desperation.
“Yes. I guess so.”
Mrs. Fitz, who had been struggling, nodded, pretending to be defeated. Lisa's daze lasted only a moment. Her face quickly shifted from joy to confusion.
“Thank you! Thank you so much!”
“But there is a condition.”
Mrs. Fitz, her head straightening again, walked towards Lisa with measured steps.
“There’s something I need you to do, Lisa.”
It seemed that she couldn't just stand by and watch the Prince any longer.
As the meeting concluded, the directors of Freire Bank rushed out of the study. It seemed as if they were on a march, but they paid no attention.
Bjorn leaned back against the sofa, watching the scene unfold. Aside from the neatly folded sleeves of his shirt, he looked disheveled. The only trace of the long meeting was the cigarette ash that filled the ashtray.
As the study door closed, Bjorn uncrossed his legs and stood up. The sky west of the Abbey River was already turning crimson with the setting sun.
Bjorn, standing in front of the window, gazed wearily at the evening landscape. The bare trees, already shedding their leaves, swayed in the breeze. A slow sigh, mixed with a laugh, escaped him as he remembered that winter was fast approaching. It was one of the minor habits he'd developed since the impudent debt collector's midnight escape.
Bjorn, turning away, approached the fireplace, where the crackling of firewood could be heard. His gaze naturally turned to the painting hanging above the mantlepiece. It was a portrait of the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess of Schwerin by Pavel Lore.
Bjorn, arms crossed loosely, gazed at the flower he'd blossomed from the damned painter's fingertips. Erna Dneister, with her gentle smile, was beautiful. It was a fact both satisfying and irritating.
It was Bjorn who decided to hang the portrait in the study. He didn't want to place Pavel Lore's work in Erna's space. Of course, there were plenty of places to hang paintings in the Grand Duke's residence, but wouldn't it be a shame to tuck the portrait of the couple away out of sight?
The perfect place for all these conditions was, of course, the study. It was a place he could see every day, yet not feel overly private. He also liked the fact that it was a good place to show off to outsiders. After all, that's the purpose of these paintings.
A husband I no longer love.
The cheeky letter floating over the innocent face in the painting deepened the sneer on Bjorn's lips.
After all, deer are dangerous.
It was funny to see himself getting bitten on the back of his neck while he was letting his guard down.
A month and a week.
Enough time had passed for the seasons to change, but Erna hadn't contacted him once. She had apparently written to Mrs. Fitz and the guards of hell, but that had nothing to do with him.
Well, isn't that a bit too obvious and obvious to try to arouse curiosity that way?
Bjorn's gaze gradually narrowed as he watched his beautiful wife, still resorting to shallow tricks. He wasn't entirely unwilling to keep Erna in Baden for the time being. While it was absurd to run away in the middle of the night like that, the fact that she was staying with his maternal family was no problem. Even if the time was getting longer.
“Your Highness, this is Mrs. Fitz.”
A polite knock and a voice permeated the silence of the study.
"Yes."
After giving a curt reply, Bjorn turned and returned to the sofa. As he rolled down his sleeves and fastened the cufflinks he'd left on the edge of the reception table, Mrs. Fitz approached.
“I have decided to send Lisa Brill to Baden mansion in Burford.”
Madame Fitz, well aware of the Prince's increasingly shallow patience, got straight to the point. Bjorn raised his eyes slightly, frowning.
“Lisa? You mean that maid?”
“Yes. She is Her Highness maid.”
"Ah."
Bjorn nodded indifferently. It wasn't unusual for a maid, who had been wandering the mansion with a gloomy expression, as if the world were crumbling, to disappear.
“I was going to cut her off anyway, so this is good.”
"Lisa Brill is still a member of the Schwerin Palace, Your Highness. She's entrusted with Her Highness's duties, so she was sent to Her Highness's presence. The fact that she's a member of the Grand Duchess's household doesn't change. As long as Her Highness is the Prince's wife, that is."
Mrs. Fitz put particular emphasis on her last words. Bjorn, who had been lost in thought with a squint, rose from his seat with a faint smile.
“You did something useless.”
After gesturing to Mrs. Fitz, Bjorn put on his jacket and coat and adjusted his tie.
“I don’t think so.”
Mrs. Fitz followed Björn out of the study, keeping a step behind him.
“I instructed her to write letters periodically, and Lisa agreed.”
"Letter?"
“How is Her Highness the Grand Duchess at Baden?”
Mrs. Fitz's soft addition brought Bjorn's footsteps to a halt. The hallway, now silent for a moment, was bathed in a deep crimson glow of sunset.
“I know you must be very curious and worried.”
It was Mrs. Fitz who broke the silence first. Bjorn's gaze, fixed on her, was calm, devoid of any real emotion.
“You really did something useless.”
“Your Highness.”
“She’ll come back on my own feet, so don’t be weird.”
Bjorn smiled at his nanny, her eyes brimming with concern, and began to walk again with a refreshing gait. Madame Fitz, clearly aware that he would not allow any further objections, pursed her lips as she saw the Prince off.
“Don’t wait up. I’ll be late.”
Before boarding the carriage, Björn smiled faintly once more and left a few words of advice.
As the carriage carrying the Prince pulled away down the driveway, Mrs. Fitz turned around with a complicated sigh. It seemed she needed to hurry Lisa's departure.
Who called that kid?
Eyes filled with a murderous question darted dizzily across the deck. Peter, identified as the prime suspect, frowned and squirmed in protest.
It wasn't me. I came here on my own feet!
Instead of saying those words, which he couldn't bring himself to say, Peter coughed repeatedly. Meanwhile, the long game ended. The winner was Bjorn Dneister, the slaughterer of the Schwerin social club card room.
Even though he'd practically swept away every single chip, Bjorn didn't look particularly pleased. In fact, his expression was rather displeased, which made the losers even more miserable.
After marriage, he'd been quiet, but since the Grand Duchess's convalescence, he'd been appearing as frequently as he had in the royal family's days, sweeping up the pot. Back then, he seemed to have learned to at least give them some leeway, but these days, he'd pounce like a mad dog, devastating the deck.
Is that all?
The atmosphere was so tense. It was a chilling day, and he was wary of even joking. But then, he showed up, seemingly without reason, and drained his pockets, drying his blood. It was truly a dazzling sight.
“Should I go now?”
As soon as Bjorn stood up, everyone's faces lit up with joy.
Go. Please go.
Bjorn nodded absentmindedly, as if his aspiration had not been in vain.
As the wolf, fully fed and having hunted to its heart's content, leisurely departed, angry words erupted from all sides. Leonard, who had been the most furious, was the loudest.
“It’s frustration. It’s frustration.”
Leonard shook his head and exhaled smoke from his cigar.
“He is pouring out all his anger that he can’t let out on us right now.”
“Surely that can’t be true?”
Peter, who was buried deep in his chair, asked calmly.
“Even if I can’t do it, I won’t vent my anger here.”
“Are you and the Grand Duke who were feasting the same when you were starving?”
The tense atmosphere, which had been strained as they watched the Prince's expression, whose irritation was running high to the tips of his hair, became noisy again with Peter as a sacrifice.
"When will the Grand Duchess return? Surely it won't be before the end of the year?"
Those who had been laughing and giggling in vain at the words spoken by one of the group all became silent.
“Don’t talk nonsense. If he keeps doing that, you’ll end up a beggar!”
Everyone agreed with Peter's scream, which was close to a scream.
The Archduchess's speedy return.
It was a dream that everyone ardently desired, even in the social clubs as much as in the Schwerin Palace.
***
The night in Tara Square, with winter just around the corner, was cold and quiet.
Bjorn glanced at the clock tower and walked slowly toward the now-deactivated fountain in the center of the square. There were still about thirty minutes left until the coachman was due to arrive.
Perched on the edge of the fountain, Bjorn raised his head and looked up at the sky. It was a beautiful night, with stars twinkling brightly. Yet, that name came to mind.
Erna.
The name that flowed out with his breath scattered whitely.
Erna. My cheeky wife, Erna.
It was late afternoon when Lisa visited Mrs. Fitz's office. She usually had a sullen expression, but today, for some reason, she seemed brimming with determination.
“What’s going on, Lisa?”
Mrs. Fitz, closing her ledger, asked calmly. The hesitation was fleeting. Lisa, her face now settling, took a brisk step toward her desk.
“I am leaving Schwerin Palace.”
“What does that mean?”
Mrs. Fitz, her eyes narrowed, slowly removed the reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Her solemn gaze sent a chill down Lisa's spine, but she decided not to back down.
“I want to go to Baden-Wurttemberg.”
“Baden? I don’t think that’s what His Highness intended.”
“That’s true, but...”
Lisa quickly rubbed her reddened eyes with the back of her hand.
A letter arrived from Erna. It had been about ten days since she disappeared overnight.
Erna apologized for her choice to leave without a word, offering the farewell she hadn't been able to say that day. She expressed her sincere gratitude for the time they had spent together and how grateful she was. She also said that if it was difficult for her to remain in the Grand Duke's residence without her, she would ask Madame Fitz to help her find a job with another worthy family.
The day she received that letter, Lisa realized. Contrary to everyone's expectations, Erna might truly have decided never to return. Still, she waited, hoping for the best, but now it was too late.
“If you don’t want to stay here, then as the Highness instructed, I will introduce you to another family...”
"No!"
Lisa shook her head vigorously, expressing her firm refusal.
“I will go to Baden mansion in Burford. Please permit me. Yes?”
“Disobeying His Highness’s orders and doing as you please?”
“Oh, no! Here, Her Highness clearly told me to meet again!”
Lisa hurriedly handed the letter she was clutching to Mrs. Fitz. It was worn from repeated readings, and even stained with dried tears, but she still had no trouble recognizing Erna's neat handwriting.
"Lisa."
A new smile escaped Mrs. Fitz's lips as she read the letter carefully.
It was a predictable greeting, promising to meet again once everything was settled and offer a proper thank you and apology. Lisa, desperate enough to insist on this, was both absurd and aching, so she simply sighed softly. Well, Erna wasn't the type to leave behind a heartless greeting, so it wasn't entirely fair to dismiss Lisa as being unreasonable. But now, the "settlement" wasn't over.
Mrs. Fitz stood from her desk and faced the window overlooking the desolate garden. It seemed the time had come to abandon her optimism that Erna would return after some time of composure.
None of Erna's letters to her and Lisa contained Bjorn's name. She showed no sign of curiosity about the situation here. Her calm demeanor, expressing her wishes and asking for understanding, was characteristically elegant and stubborn, as was Erna's.
What could be better?
Mrs. Fitz turned, rubbing her throbbing forehead. Lisa's gaze, looking at her, was filled with desperation.
“Yes. I guess so.”
Mrs. Fitz, who had been struggling, nodded, pretending to be defeated. Lisa's daze lasted only a moment. Her face quickly shifted from joy to confusion.
“Thank you! Thank you so much!”
“But there is a condition.”
Mrs. Fitz, her head straightening again, walked towards Lisa with measured steps.
“There’s something I need you to do, Lisa.”
It seemed that she couldn't just stand by and watch the Prince any longer.
***
As the meeting concluded, the directors of Freire Bank rushed out of the study. It seemed as if they were on a march, but they paid no attention.
Bjorn leaned back against the sofa, watching the scene unfold. Aside from the neatly folded sleeves of his shirt, he looked disheveled. The only trace of the long meeting was the cigarette ash that filled the ashtray.
As the study door closed, Bjorn uncrossed his legs and stood up. The sky west of the Abbey River was already turning crimson with the setting sun.
Bjorn, standing in front of the window, gazed wearily at the evening landscape. The bare trees, already shedding their leaves, swayed in the breeze. A slow sigh, mixed with a laugh, escaped him as he remembered that winter was fast approaching. It was one of the minor habits he'd developed since the impudent debt collector's midnight escape.
Bjorn, turning away, approached the fireplace, where the crackling of firewood could be heard. His gaze naturally turned to the painting hanging above the mantlepiece. It was a portrait of the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess of Schwerin by Pavel Lore.
Bjorn, arms crossed loosely, gazed at the flower he'd blossomed from the damned painter's fingertips. Erna Dneister, with her gentle smile, was beautiful. It was a fact both satisfying and irritating.
It was Bjorn who decided to hang the portrait in the study. He didn't want to place Pavel Lore's work in Erna's space. Of course, there were plenty of places to hang paintings in the Grand Duke's residence, but wouldn't it be a shame to tuck the portrait of the couple away out of sight?
The perfect place for all these conditions was, of course, the study. It was a place he could see every day, yet not feel overly private. He also liked the fact that it was a good place to show off to outsiders. After all, that's the purpose of these paintings.
A husband I no longer love.
The cheeky letter floating over the innocent face in the painting deepened the sneer on Bjorn's lips.
After all, deer are dangerous.
It was funny to see himself getting bitten on the back of his neck while he was letting his guard down.
A month and a week.
Enough time had passed for the seasons to change, but Erna hadn't contacted him once. She had apparently written to Mrs. Fitz and the guards of hell, but that had nothing to do with him.
Well, isn't that a bit too obvious and obvious to try to arouse curiosity that way?
Bjorn's gaze gradually narrowed as he watched his beautiful wife, still resorting to shallow tricks. He wasn't entirely unwilling to keep Erna in Baden for the time being. While it was absurd to run away in the middle of the night like that, the fact that she was staying with his maternal family was no problem. Even if the time was getting longer.
“Your Highness, this is Mrs. Fitz.”
A polite knock and a voice permeated the silence of the study.
"Yes."
After giving a curt reply, Bjorn turned and returned to the sofa. As he rolled down his sleeves and fastened the cufflinks he'd left on the edge of the reception table, Mrs. Fitz approached.
“I have decided to send Lisa Brill to Baden mansion in Burford.”
Madame Fitz, well aware of the Prince's increasingly shallow patience, got straight to the point. Bjorn raised his eyes slightly, frowning.
“Lisa? You mean that maid?”
“Yes. She is Her Highness maid.”
"Ah."
Bjorn nodded indifferently. It wasn't unusual for a maid, who had been wandering the mansion with a gloomy expression, as if the world were crumbling, to disappear.
“I was going to cut her off anyway, so this is good.”
"Lisa Brill is still a member of the Schwerin Palace, Your Highness. She's entrusted with Her Highness's duties, so she was sent to Her Highness's presence. The fact that she's a member of the Grand Duchess's household doesn't change. As long as Her Highness is the Prince's wife, that is."
Mrs. Fitz put particular emphasis on her last words. Bjorn, who had been lost in thought with a squint, rose from his seat with a faint smile.
“You did something useless.”
After gesturing to Mrs. Fitz, Bjorn put on his jacket and coat and adjusted his tie.
“I don’t think so.”
Mrs. Fitz followed Björn out of the study, keeping a step behind him.
“I instructed her to write letters periodically, and Lisa agreed.”
"Letter?"
“How is Her Highness the Grand Duchess at Baden?”
Mrs. Fitz's soft addition brought Bjorn's footsteps to a halt. The hallway, now silent for a moment, was bathed in a deep crimson glow of sunset.
“I know you must be very curious and worried.”
It was Mrs. Fitz who broke the silence first. Bjorn's gaze, fixed on her, was calm, devoid of any real emotion.
“You really did something useless.”
“Your Highness.”
“She’ll come back on my own feet, so don’t be weird.”
Bjorn smiled at his nanny, her eyes brimming with concern, and began to walk again with a refreshing gait. Madame Fitz, clearly aware that he would not allow any further objections, pursed her lips as she saw the Prince off.
“Don’t wait up. I’ll be late.”
Before boarding the carriage, Björn smiled faintly once more and left a few words of advice.
As the carriage carrying the Prince pulled away down the driveway, Mrs. Fitz turned around with a complicated sigh. It seemed she needed to hurry Lisa's departure.
***
Who called that kid?
Eyes filled with a murderous question darted dizzily across the deck. Peter, identified as the prime suspect, frowned and squirmed in protest.
It wasn't me. I came here on my own feet!
Instead of saying those words, which he couldn't bring himself to say, Peter coughed repeatedly. Meanwhile, the long game ended. The winner was Bjorn Dneister, the slaughterer of the Schwerin social club card room.
Even though he'd practically swept away every single chip, Bjorn didn't look particularly pleased. In fact, his expression was rather displeased, which made the losers even more miserable.
After marriage, he'd been quiet, but since the Grand Duchess's convalescence, he'd been appearing as frequently as he had in the royal family's days, sweeping up the pot. Back then, he seemed to have learned to at least give them some leeway, but these days, he'd pounce like a mad dog, devastating the deck.
Is that all?
The atmosphere was so tense. It was a chilling day, and he was wary of even joking. But then, he showed up, seemingly without reason, and drained his pockets, drying his blood. It was truly a dazzling sight.
“Should I go now?”
As soon as Bjorn stood up, everyone's faces lit up with joy.
Go. Please go.
Bjorn nodded absentmindedly, as if his aspiration had not been in vain.
As the wolf, fully fed and having hunted to its heart's content, leisurely departed, angry words erupted from all sides. Leonard, who had been the most furious, was the loudest.
“It’s frustration. It’s frustration.”
Leonard shook his head and exhaled smoke from his cigar.
“He is pouring out all his anger that he can’t let out on us right now.”
“Surely that can’t be true?”
Peter, who was buried deep in his chair, asked calmly.
“Even if I can’t do it, I won’t vent my anger here.”
“Are you and the Grand Duke who were feasting the same when you were starving?”
The tense atmosphere, which had been strained as they watched the Prince's expression, whose irritation was running high to the tips of his hair, became noisy again with Peter as a sacrifice.
"When will the Grand Duchess return? Surely it won't be before the end of the year?"
Those who had been laughing and giggling in vain at the words spoken by one of the group all became silent.
“Don’t talk nonsense. If he keeps doing that, you’ll end up a beggar!”
Everyone agreed with Peter's scream, which was close to a scream.
The Archduchess's speedy return.
It was a dream that everyone ardently desired, even in the social clubs as much as in the Schwerin Palace.
***
The night in Tara Square, with winter just around the corner, was cold and quiet.
Bjorn glanced at the clock tower and walked slowly toward the now-deactivated fountain in the center of the square. There were still about thirty minutes left until the coachman was due to arrive.
Perched on the edge of the fountain, Bjorn raised his head and looked up at the sky. It was a beautiful night, with stars twinkling brightly. Yet, that name came to mind.
Erna.
The name that flowed out with his breath scattered whitely.
Erna. My cheeky wife, Erna.
Comments
Post a Comment