Ida Brandt (20 page)

“There is a room up in the attic,” said Mrs von Eichbaum, “for the lady’s maid.”

Kate shrugged her arms and shoulders so that all her silver rings rattled. “Oh, well, yes, we can always see about that.”

Mrs von Eichbaum, holding herself rather straight, turned to the lady’s maid and said:

“Would you put the clothes in here for the moment, Miss Thora.”

For some unknown reason, Mrs von Eichbaum had decided during the journey there that Miss Victoria should be called Thora.

Sitting on the living room sofa, the general’s wife and Mrs Mourier were already engrossed in a discussion of all their winter plans, and the general’s wife could be heard to say in conclusion:

“And Vilhelmine, then we have Petri on Sundays.”

Julius announced that tea was ready and they rose to go in, but Kate really had to wash first. “Where is there a bathroom?” she asked. She had a certain matter-of-fact way of asking. But there
was
no bathroom.

“You know, Kate,” said Mrs von Eichbaum: “this is a house that is let out, but at least we have our portable tub.”

Kate disappeared with Victoria into her mother’s bedroom while the others sat down at the table and the dogs before long began to howl and scratch at the bedroom door until Kate let them in. “I must say,” said Mrs von Eichbaum at the table, “that will not be good for the varnish on the Lindholm’s doors in the long run.”

The three ladies turned to a discussion about Aline Feddersen. The general’s wife thought she had been in Geneva.

And she was probably still there.

“Yes, you know,” said Mrs von Eichbaum, “that is something that we cannot understand with the best will in the world.”

Mrs Mourier, who had finished her second egg, said:

“No, but you know, Feddersen has never been anything more than a provider for his family.”

“
Anything more than?
My dear Mine…”

“Yes, and Mourier is right: it is simply not sufficient to have a husband rationed out in daily portions.”

There was just a brief pause before Mrs von Eichbaum said – and there was no telling whether the sisters had really understood:–

“Very well, my dear, but where do you think one will meet anyone else like Mourier?”

When Kate came in and sat down – she was wearing a pale blue cashmere morning dress – Mrs Mourier was talking about Ludvigsbakke. They had had a look at it and Mourier thought the price was reasonable.

“And what do you say, Kate?” asked the general’s wife.

Kate, who was feeding the hounds on the finest white bread, thought that it could be quite adequate if some alterations were made to it, and Mrs Mourier asked after Karl.

“Good heavens,” said Mrs von Eichbaum, “he is busy in the office.”

And the general’s wife added:

“He goes off and comes home with clockwork regularity.”

Kate, who had finished feeding the dogs, now showed an interest in proceedings for the first time and asked:

“Where can one ride here in Copenhagen?”

After lunch, the sisters went home, just a couple of houses away. They spoke little until they reached Mrs von Eichbaum’s entrance hall and took off their coats.

“Dear Lotte,” said Mrs von Eichbaum: “Let them get straight first.”

“It is quite reasonable,” the general’s wife seemed to be smoothing something over with her hand: “The first day is always a little confused and noisy.”

The sisters went inside and sat down and Mrs von Eichbaum, who nevertheless seemed as it were to be relaxing here on her own good sofa, said:

“And the clothes, dear, they are only the sort you put on when you intend to go to the shops.”

The general’s wife nodded and Mrs von Eichbaum stared into the air for a moment before saying:

“She dresses like a young married woman now.”

“And the dogs, dear,” said the general’s wife, “they were just like a little procession.”

And as though it had something special to do with the two hounds, the general’s wife said after a brief pause:

“But you know, a husband will not have an easy time of it.”

“And the lady’s maid,” – there was a touch of nervousness in Mrs von Eichbaum’s voice – “Ane will show her how we do things. And then it will probably be best to leave them in peace today.”

“Yes, dear,” said the general’s wife, getting up, “so that they can take stock and so on.”

In the doorway she asked: “Are you coming for a cup of tea this evening?”

“No thank you, dear,” said Mrs von Eichbaum: “The little Brandt girl is coming this evening, you know…I think Tuesday is her evening off.”

“Oh, her…Well then, goodbye, Mille.”

The general’s wife was about to leave when the bell rang. It was the porter on behalf of Lindholm bringing the basket of orchids. There were some black grapes at the bottom of it.

“Mille,” said the general’s wife. “You know they are just like those you find in the vineyards. I think they will keep until Sunday, dear, and I had in any case thought of having the Schleppegrells round as well now that we have those four ducks from Vallø.”

Mrs von Eichbaum arranged the orchids in two glass bowls. When she had finished, she stood looking at them.

“Yes,” she said: “they are certainly beautiful, though I must admit I really do find these flowers unnerving.”

“They have them in many country houses these days,” said the general’s wife.

She went off with her half.

Karl stood that evening waiting for Ida outside the hospital gate, as the soft snow fell over his elegant overcoat.

“Your hands are ever so cold,” he said when she came.

They walked side by side as he talked in that drawling manner of his, and Ida made but little reply as though she were far away in thought.

“By Gad, I think you are frightened,” said Karl with a laugh. “But I suppose I can quite understand that.” And he put his arm through Ida’s as though to indicate they would stand firmly together.

When they reached the rather modest middle building, Mrs von Eichbaum rose from the sofa and received Ida at the door to the sitting room.

“It was nice of you to come.”

They all three sat down and Mrs von Eichbaum made a show of conversation, talking about the hospital and applying her finest pronunciation to everything; she said what a great blessing the institution was. Karl meanwhile sat with a twinkle in his eye, glancing at Ida, who gradually seemed to shrink and become smaller in her corner of the sofa.

“And it is so reassuring that they are young ladies from good homes. You know, Karl, Adelaide has also begun to train in the King Frederik Hospital, the private one, you know”.

Adelaide was the daughter of a colonel of her acquaintance.

“Oh,” said Karl, “that was probably the wisest thing for her.”

“Good heavens, Karl,” said Mrs von Eichbaum, “I just think it is immensely respectable.”

There was a brief pause. But then Karl thought that it was now time to make a contribution, and he started to tell a story from the office (they really are a damned peculiar crowd, he said) about a mad father who wanted to have his sane son committed. The father turned up with his socks outside his boots and wanted to have his son in the mental ward.

“The son was wearing patent leather shoes,” Karl explained, continuing his account while Mrs von Eichbaum laughed and Ida sat smiling: oh, she was so grateful, so really grateful, that he was talking. And Karl continued to tell stories (he could veritably see Ida growing in her seat) until finally they were all three merrily laughing aloud. Mrs von Eichbaum was always so happy when Karl was talking. “And he has such a fine sense of humour,” she always said to her sister. Now she said:

“But Karl, this is not really anything to laugh at.”

And Ida asked about the netting on the bed curtain:

“Was it difficult to learn how to do it?”

Mrs von Eichbaum showed her how it was done.

“You can try it,” she said.

And she continued to teach Ida how to use the small needles, while Karl asked:

“Do you mind if I smoke, mother?” And with his cigarette between his fingers he sat looking at Ida’s bent head alongside that of his mother.”

Ida went on with the netting. There was the sound of the small needles clicking and rattling against each other, as Mrs von Eichbaum watched and Karl said:

“It’s going fine,” to which Mrs von Eichbaum added in a kindly voice:

“Yes. Young people have nimble fingers.”

Julius came already to announce tea as Karl, who couldn’t go on talking all the bally time, said:

“Aunt Charlotte could come over for a game of whist, mother.”

“Yes, how right you are; there are enough of us for a game. I will ask her before we have tea.”

When Mrs von Eichbaum had gone, Karl rose from his chair and went across to Ida’s sofa corner:

“Well, what now,” he said, smiling at her.

“Well…”

Ida looked up in his face, and she, too, smiled.

“You are so kind,” she said. They were half whispering like children behind a teacher’s back.

“Yes, of course I am,” said Karl with a laugh.

In the dining room he opened the piano and started to play a waltz, pounding the strings to their limit.

Mrs von Eichbaum was over at her sister’s. She invited her to a game of whist and said:

“She is really a delightful girl, my dear – well brought up and charming.”

This could only please the general’s wife.

“And she has really always been one of the circle.”

Mrs von Eichbaum went across, and when she saw Karl at the piano, she said:

“That was a good idea, Karl; it is a long time since you played anything.”

“Yes,” said Karl. “And that’s a good thing for the neighbours.”

But he continued to play.

It was as though the waltz hung in the air while they ate, and Ida got up and asked if she might pour Mrs von Eichbaum’s second cup of tea, and Julius had to put more bread in the basket because Karl had such an enormous appetite.

“Thank you,” said Mrs von Eichbaum as she was served with her tea: “I must say that there is no meal to compare with my good tea.”

They continued to talk until Mrs von Eichbaum said:

“I suppose you know that the Mouriers, the merchant family, are seriously considering buying old Ludvigsbakke. They are our very close friends.”

Yes, Mr von Eichbaum had told her.

“But Karl,” said Mrs von Eichbaum, “Kate doesn’t like the main building.”

“Oh,” said Ida, “I just think it was so lovely.”

“Hmm,” murmured Karl, who was still eating, “I suppose she wants a couple of pig stickers above the door as a coat of arms.”

Mrs von Eichbaum did not herself know why she did not reprove Karl for this, but all she said was:

“Well people’s requirements are different, of course.”

The general’s wife arrived while they were still sitting at the tea table.

“Oh, let me not disturb you.”

“Well,” she said to Ida, “we have already heard so many nice things about you.”

When they had finished, Ida helped Karl to set up the card table.

“No, no, that’s not the way,” said Karl, tapping her hands.

“Julius, would you please bring the candlesticks,” said Mrs von Eichbaum.

“But I am so bad at playing cards,” said Ida as they sat down. She was given Karl as her partner.

“Karl,” said the general’s wife, who had the lead and dealt the cards: “We do not talk when we are playing cards.”

The sisters played slowly, looking long and carefully at the cards. One had the impression that they were playing chess. Ida, who sat biting her lip, flushed each time she put a card on the table, while Karl chatted ceaselessly to his aunt.

“Karl,” said Mrs von Eichbaum, “when you play cards, you play cards.”

Karl fell silent and looked across at Ida, who gained confidence and played her good cards suddenly, in the manner of a child, to take the tricks.

“It’s you, Emilie,” said the general’s wife.

Mrs von Eichbaum only nodded in reply; it was as though both sisters were just showing signs of double chins as they played.

“That was ours,” said Ida, involuntarily breathing in relief as her eyes shone.

“Miss Ida looks as though she has just come out of a Turkish bath,” said Karl.

“Miss Brandt plays better than you do,” said Mrs von Eichbaum.

“Yes. Oh well, congratulations,” he said, and while winking he put his hand, with a raised thumb, in the direction of Ida, who put her thumb against his. “Congratulations,” she said, and they both laughed.

Mrs von Eichbaum and the general’s wife talked about the game and spread the tricks out on the table.

“But there was I,” said Mrs von Eichbaum, “sitting there with my sole trump.”

They played on, and Karl also became eager as Ida and he continued to win.

“Ida plays a fine game of whist,” he said, forgetting to say Miss.

“Yes,” said the general’s wife. “This is really a delightful game.”

Julius entered with the grapes and the Madeira, which they enjoyed in between two rubbers, talking about the old days, about Ludvigsbakke and about old Brandt. “He was an excellent man,” said Mrs von Eichbaum.

Karl raised his glass.

“Yes,” he said, “shall we then wish Miss Brandt welcome…”

“Yes, we must,” said Mrs von Eichbaum; “it was really delightful to see you.”

They all four took a drink, and then they had to change places, at which point Karl, who was so playful and happy, began to sniff at his aunt’s back.

“Since when have you been using Patchouli, aunt?”

“Yes,” said the general’s wife, who also with some concern began to smell at her own sleeves, “I don’t really understand it, but that smell persists all day.”

“My dear,” said Mrs von Eichbaum, “it is on me, too. It
must
be from Kate. I noticed it immediately, on the platform, in the
open
air. I, who have a horror of anything pervasive.”

As he sat down, Karl said:

“It’s Ess Bouquet. It’s a gentleman’s perfume, but it’s actually very pleasant.”

“Good heavens, Karl,” said the general’s wife: “You surely don’t mean…a gentleman only ever smells of his clean linen.”