Iron Butterflies (11 page)

“The Colonel F. has been arrested. No one knows where they have taken him.”

So—I was alone! I did not realize until that very moment that I must have held in the back of my mind somewhere the hope that Fenwick would come to my
aid somehow. Though how he could have managed that I had no idea. Very well, I must save myself.

I tore the bit of paper into very small pieces, then held those bits out to Truda, who took them from me and hid them again in her apron pocket, nodding her understanding. Once more hooked into a fresh dress, I went to my dressing table and studied my face in the mirror.

My reflection looked as always, I could read nothing in my expression to suggest that I had received any blow. Arrested was he? For what, by whom? No, that was no problem of mine; I must waste no time in speculating over the misfortune of the man who had in the beginning overpersuaded me into this whole affair.

Now—I could not remain in this room, hiding like a hunted creature waiting to be pulled out of meager safety. Would it profit me to seem for a while to fall in with the Gräfin’s suggestions and play a pliable female, watching for their guard to relax? At present I believed that to be my only chance.

“Where is the Gräfin?”

“In the Green Parlor, gracious lady.”

So the Gräfin kept to the upper story of the Kesterhof, shunning the dark antiquity of the lower rooms. The Green Parlor was across from my own sitting room and I headed for it briskly, trusting that my inner agitation would not show. If I could only at this moment display to the world that same imperturbable facade my grandmother used as armor in a moment of crisis, then I felt stronger. On sudden impulse I did not open the door immediately before me but went back to my own room, straight to the box which held my very modest array of ornaments and in which I had kept the butterfly necklace since I had worn it on my visit to the palace.

A decoration, the Gräfin had said, akin to those given for valor. Very well, no one needed more such a spur to courage at this moment than I did. With steady fingers I made safe the clasp, felt the cold iron settle
about my throat. So armored, I returned to face my opponents.

For the Gräfin was not alone. Lounging beside her in a chair, his booted feet outstretched toward a fireplace which on this warm day held no shooting flames, was the Baron von Werthern. He arose at once, favoring me with a bow and a smile which was a stretch of his lips raising no farther than that. His watchful eyes fastened on the necklace. I thought I saw them widen then a fraction, but perhaps I was deceived.

“Amelia!” The Gräfin had regained, or resummoned, all her earlier affability, jumping up and coming quickly to catch up the hand hanging by my side to draw me farther in. I did not have to watch her to know that she was seeking to read my expression, eager to know how much I had been influenced by her arguments and half threats. Now I must play my game and I greatly feared that I was not fitted for such deceptions.

“I have been thinking.” Such a beginning was the best I could summon. “As you have said, Luise, my position here is not without its difficulties. What we wish to do, and what we can do may be two different things.” I sought words, wove them into sentences, at the present they were my only defense. “This has all come too suddenly, I cannot change my whole life so quickly. I must have more time—”

“Dear lady.” The Baron was still smiling. “I fear our Luise, in concern for your welfare, may have been too abrupt in her disclosure of what you term ‘difficulties.’ But these do exist, and they are formidable. It is not my desire, you must understand, to frighten you, but you are a lady of intelligence, and you must be shown the facts, as unpleasant as they may seem.

“His Highness, due to his unfortunate ailment, could not make clear to those who did not know him well his full desires. It was his misfortune, also, that he had close to him certain advisers—or favorites—who had motives of their own for keeping him unaware of what might be happening. When he sent for you he was in
better health, he fully intended to introduce you formally to the court, to make you secure in every way, and leave to you the legacy of that which had given him the greatest pleasure over the years.

“Then came the second and greater impairment of his senses. He was prisoner within his own palace. Those whose motives he had good reason to distrust were now able to surround him with such guards that his true friends could not reach him without great difficulty and then only under the eyes of his enemies. It was only with the greatest of efforts that I, who share in a small portion the same blood with him, was able to see him at all.

“His first concern in the latter days was your comfort and safety. Having been rendered nearly completely helpless, he was much burdened in his mind, yet he was determined to see you, to gain some feeling from you. His children had been little comfort to him—his son dead—one daughter also—the other much like her mother and in no sympathy with him, Though it may be hard for you to believe this, dear lady, he was a man of warm heart. Circumstances set upon him the duty of a loveless, a very unhappy marriage. So hurt was he by what he had been forced to do that thereafter he showed his real character to very few. I am honored”—the Baron paused, his smile gone now, his eyes steady on my face—“that I was one in his confidence. It is my consolation to know that I have never betrayed that confidence nor do I so now. For it was to me that he gave the very great honor of safeguarding the one person in the world he thought truly shared a memory and a background he had loved. Your grandmother was his only true wife—this I have heard from his own lips—”

For the first time I was impressed by the Baron. His words now meant more to me than any protestation or lure the Gräfin had delivered. He did not talk of “treasure” or inheritance, but of what I had glimpsed for myself during that one visit with the dying man—his concern for the past.

“Knowing well what intrigue and devious dangers you might have to face without his protection, he asked oath that I would protect you to the best of my ability. He did the only thing which would make you wholly safe, arranged for you a marriage—”

I had been lulled by his references to my grandfather’s confidence. Now I was brought up short out of my drifting along with his soothing words.

“Sir,” I said with all the emphasis I could muster, “having suffered himself from such an arranged match—as you have just finished telling me that he did—how could he so wish me to follow the same path? You have been most kind, but as I have already told Luise—there is another way out of this trouble, and one I am most willing to take. I do not want the inheritance my grandfather left—it means nothing to me. In my own country I have plenty to keep me in comfort all my life. With the Elector dead, and my grandmother also, there is no longer any reason for my ever appearing at court—of being in Hesse-Dohna at all. My presence here was supposed to be a well-kept secret. If it remains that—do you not see all that must be done is for me to assign to the new Elector that inheritance which seems to be such a lodestone for ill feeling, and to leave as quietly as I came, with no one—save those in the original escort—and perhaps the new Elector—aware of it.”

“An ingenious plan.” The Baron smiled again, a condescending smile which suggested that “ingenious” was not the real word in his mind—but one closer to “stupid.” “But I fear it is one which cannot be followed. His Highness’s will and ail its terms are even now made public. Unfortunately the Princess Adelaide has already become aware of what was going on and discovered all. The Princess, my dear lady, has the unfortunate temper of her mother. She also has very powerful friends. Several of them have the ear of the new Elector. They would never believe you meant what you have just told me. It would be their contention that if you were allowed to leave Hesse-Dohna, you would repudiate any promises you had made, and there would
follow much scandal and trouble. It would be very easy for the Elector to take steps to see you remain here under his control. He need only write a single order and you might well be imprisoned for life! Would there be anyone powerful enough then to stand up to him and demand your release—have you any friend in what you term your own country to do this?”

I cannot deny that he shook me. The points he made were much the same as the Gräfin’s, but the repetition of them sank more deeply into my mind and I could see the dreadful logic of his reasoning. It fitted well with those tales I had heard of the absolute power these German princes held. That the treasure meant nothing to me—how could any of these raised on the constant viewing and descriptions of its splendors believe that I was not greedy for it?

“If you are married, then you will have a husband, as well as a powerful court faction to protect you. No such summary action can ever be taken. Also—” He glanced from me for the first time to the Gräfin.

She looked a little uneasy. “What he wishes to tell you, dear Amelia—it is a matter of delicacy, but the time is so short that we cannot allow such refinements to confuse us. Such a marriage would be a matter of convenience only, your convenience, do you understand?”

I felt the warmth of color in my own face. Now the Gräfin plunged ahead a little more boldly.

“After a time, during which your difficulties are resolved, Konrad will take you abroad. Such a marriage can be easily dissolved—perhaps in your own country. You shall be free then to follow your own desire. And, since you swear you do not want the treasure, then I am sure all can be arranged—but only if—”

“I have a friend at court,” I supplied. “This is a very difficult decision for me, Baron von Werthern. To say yes, even under the circumstances you offer, violates all that I have been raised to believe in. It merely follows a pattern which caused my family so much grief
in the past. I cannot easily nor quickly answer you—I must have time.”

“That is what is not left for us, dear lady.” Perhaps he thought that he had near won his point and, like the men carved in those hunting scenes on the walls of the hall below, need only now move in with short sword to deliver the final blow to my hesitation.

“I repeat, I must have time.” I held to that. That his words added to the Gräfin’s had shaken me inwardly, I had to admit. While with the Colonel—but, no, there was no reason for me to look in that direction any more. Fenwick was clearly out of favor. Not only that, but in dire trouble himself. I stood alone, but I still clung to a very forlorn hope that if I were only given fraction more time, I could break out of the web.

The Gräfin arose. “It is time for lunch,” she said as might any hostess. “Let us forget for an hour at least. Worry does not let food taste the better.”

Unfortunately the meal set out for us was in one of the low, dark rooms on the lower floor. Warm as the day was, the limited light, the gloom here, made one shiver. I had little appetite and did no more than taste the dishes offered, though the Gräfin urged me to try a special omelet with such assiduity that I could not refuse with any politeness. The dish was savory and highly spiced. So that I had to turn to my wineglass more often than I did at any meal. At least that part of German heritage had never been mine, I had no desire to drink deeply. My two companions ate and drank their way through the courses. The Baron seemingly set himself the duty of being attentive and discussed the news of Axelburg, with speculations on the coming of the new Elector, as he might in any company.

I had emptied my wineglass, and my thirst was not assuaged. Just now I wanted water, for my mouth felt parched, my tongue seeming to swell. There was more wine in my glass, though I was sure I had not seen it poured.

In fact the room was growing so dark that I wished
they would light the candles to dismiss the ever-encroaching shadows creeping out from the corners. So very dark—was there a storm brewing?

A sudden spasm of giddiness struck at me and I caught at the edge of the table, needing anchorage. I was falling— What? My last remembered sight was the half-emptied wineglass, and in my mind some warning struggled—far too late.

Chapter 11

It was more vivid than any dream, still I was a part and
yet not a part of it. I stood unsteadily in a place so dark that the light of at least a dozen or more candles, some lamps which blurred when I turned, or tried to turn my head a fraction, blazed without making it all visible. That chill dark was a curtain, a wall, shutting me within one small space. I stood, yes, but only because of the support of an arm about me. When I strove to view who it was who held me, my dizziness became so intense I had to close my eyes quickly against a spinning whirl of lights.

In the past I had done many strange things in dreams, danced, run, ridden, crept, merely stood to watch a myriad of weird creatures pass. Yes, this was different. The standing so was more real, my dizziness
was real. I tried to speak, yet all I could hear was a croak of sound.

Yes, I was not alone. I was aware of a second presence on my other side, though he or she did not touch me, help to hold me upright. Sickness was a sour taste in my mouth, a heaving in my middle.

There was a third figure outlined in the blaze of those lamps which assaulted my eyes, seemed to enhance my giddiness. He—she—it appeared as a patch of black with pale blur for a face, standing directly before me. I could hear a voice, very thin and far away, sometimes fading completely. It was as if I had been brought before some bar of justice to await a sentence. I—I was in danger!

Fear cut through the haze which enclosed me, made all clear for a moment or two. That stranger whom I had seen earlier in the garden, it was he who faced me, holding a book in his two hands, repeating a garble of words of which I could make no sense. I fought to move, to speak, and found that both actions were beyond me. The only answer to my efforts was such a wave of nausea that I would have fallen forward had not that hold on me tightened painfully, kept me still upright.

One of my limp hands was seized by whoever stood to my left. The grip was brutal, I felt a stab of pain even through the overriding cloud of sickness as one of my fingers was possessed and had jammed around it a cold band, ground down almost viciously clear to the knuckles. I fought for freedom again and once more retched weakly, swayed.

Surely in no dream could one feel so sick as this! Fear, yes, nightmares held the very core of fear, but not this illness of body. I closed my eyes, unable to bear the wavering of the lamps and candles. Then, for a period, I could not feel anything at all.

Once more I crawled out of whatever nightmare prison had held me. My nausea was so great that I could not control sour bile rising in my throat. I was leaning forward as someone steadied my head so I could
spew forth that accumulation from my stomach, heaving weakly with one sharp spasm after another. Now I had no doubt that I was awake, nor that I was ill with such violence as I had never felt before.

Hands steadied me. A cloth wet and fresh smelling patted against my sweating face. For the third time I vomited, the retching now dry and without result, making my body sore with effort. I hung above the waiting basin prepared for another such attack. But the moments passed and it did not come.

Then I was gently eased back on a pile of pillows, the basin vanishing before someone stepped between me and the light. I found my vision was not so blurred.

“Truda—?” I whispered.

“Lie still, gracious lady.” She brought once more that dampened towel, wiped my sweating hands, and then my face. I was propped high enough so that I could see where I was, though my mind seemed very slow and sluggish and it was hard to remember much.

I had been at the table—and now I was here, back in the room upstairs, lying on the bed in the chamber which had been assigned to me. Those two facts were very clear. But in between was—

“Truda, have I been ill?” I got out that question with little pauses between the words, for even to say that much was an effort. My body seemed utterly drained of any energy.

“It is indigestion, gracious lady—of no serious matter now that the poison is out—”

“Poison?” I echoed. There had been something—something very wrong—I had been a part of it, but to force myself to remember it now was a task beyond my efforts.

“Oh, not real poison.” Truda’s face appeared unnaturally pale, or was that another trick my eyes were playing on me, part of the acute attack I had suffered. “It is only that you ate something which was not good for you.”

“Not good for me—” I seemed only able to repeat her words. I tried to remember better the table, those
dishes which had been offered me in almost endless procession. What had I eaten? A few bits of fish, the very thought of recalling the sight of my plate made me nauseous again. My throat was sore, as if scalded from within. However, I fought against the lassitude which held me, for deep within my mind, hiding, from whence I could not seem to bring it to light, was that spark of fear. Something had happened, something worse than just this illness.

Fish, yes, some peas, and that portion of spicy omelet which the Gräfin had so firmly insisted that I eat. But the others, all of them had also helped themselves from those same plates.

“Others—sick—too?” I made the effort and got out the question as Truda came closer, her eyes watchful, her expression one of concern.

“Only you, gracious lady.” There was a firm note in her instant reply, I saw her glance away as if there was someone else here to listen and she would so slyly warn me.

Listening—listening outside doors. The Colonel—he had made me first aware of that. The Colonel—where was he?

I sat up suddenly, setting the room whirling once more, gripping the bedclothes on either side of my body to maintain myself erect as best I could. The Colonel—

“He was arrested—” I had not realized that I spoke aloud that thought which memory capriciously supplied until I saw Truda’s finger fly to her lips in warning.

My memory was flowing back, as if that single fact had unlocked the door behind which it had temporarily been barricaded. I recalled now my interview with the Gräfin, in the other room of this suite, of my second with the Baron. I allowed Truda to ease me back on my pillows, but I did not loose my hold on memory.

All they had urged upon me returned clearly now. To be ill just when I needed all my wits about me! That seemed a very wry blow of fortune. That my illness was not natural, of that I was sure. Perhaps those two had
taken steps to see that I would be in no way able to assert myself for a time.

I had been watching Truda but thinking my own thoughts, which, to my joy were now free and I had full command on them. My body was weak, yes, and I do not think I could have done more than totter feebly if I had tried to walk across the room—but my mind was clear and my sight no longer played tricks on me. It was my sudden realization that Truda was watching me oddly that shook off my preoccupation with myself.

“What has happened?” For I was sure that something had occurred, more than the fact that I had been obviously taken disastrously ill at the dining table. That dream—or was it a dream?

She did not answer me in words, instead she lifted my left hand from where it rested by my side and held it up before me. For a moment I could not understand what she was attempting to show me. Then the lamplight shone on that massive band about my third finger. I must have stared at it bemused, half thinking myself back in my dream again, when Truda spoke with great distinctness but in a half whisper.

“That is what happened, Baroness—”

Baroness? Konrad’s proposal! But I had refused it—said I must have more time. I could not have married him!

“No!” I turned to Truda, demanding that she assure me that this could not be so.

She had the dampened towel in her hand once more, bent over me to wipe my forehead. As she drew that close she whispered again.

“They drugged your wine—they had a priest waiting. It is true, gracious lady, you are wedded. The household were told, they are celebrating it now—”

“But it is no true marriage! Surely the priest could have seen I was not myself, not competent to give any response—”

“Gracious lady, the priest is their man. All on this estate, in the village over the mountain also, for some leagues around are their people. They will keep you
here and when you go forth again—when they permit it—then you must, for the sake of your own honor, agree that the marriage was a true one.”

My fingers were already working at that lying band, striving to loosen it, hurl it from me. It was too tight, it had been too firmly forced upon my finger. I thought that if I would rid myself of it, it would need cutting off!

So that confused picture of the man in black, of being held upright before him in spite of my illness—that was a marriage! My anger gave me strength. Did they believe that they could bend me to their will in this fashion—with a play of marriage? They might deem me utterly helpless, a tool in their hands to gain the inheritance, for I now had no doubt at all that that was what they strove to gain through this trickery. Yes, they might think that they had the game nearly won—but they did not know me!

They had been so careful to show me every difficulty and danger which might lie ahead. Still—my mind seemed wholly free of any drug-induced cloud now—and my thoughts fastened on one thing which I thought proved that they were not as sure of their plans as they would have me believe. To risk this mockery of a marriage meant that there was some reason why it must be hurried through, that time itself was a menace to their plans.

I must learn what they had to fear and whether that source of fear could be turned to my own account. So—

Settling back on my pillows, I ceased trying to worry off from my finger that band marking an infamous piece of trickery. Instead I looked directly at Truda.

“I feel most ill,” I said in as faltering a voice as I could manage. “I cannot be disturbed—” Was she quick enough to catch my meaning? I had begun to believe that Truda indeed was sharp witted. There was no one else I had to depend upon, so trust was forced upon me now.

“You are indeed overcome, gracious lady. If you try
to rise from your bed, you will find yourself very faint—”

I was right! She had understood my pretense at once. I sighed, laying limply among the pillows, my hands at my sides, glad for a moment I need not look at that hateful ring which seemed to weigh so heavily.

“No one but you, Truda, I am too ill.”

“That is understood, gracious lady. I shall send a message that you have been very ill and are now so weak that only a long sleep will bring you to strength again. Also I shall see that your food passes only through my hands—” She had anticipated me there and I was thankful for her quick wit. Whatever they had used to make me a puppet in their play wedding certainly had been near poison, as Truda had named it. I could not afford many more such bouts. But if they believed that I was left weakened, ill, I might not be for a while the target of any more attempts to bend me to their service.

“I shall not leave you, gracious lady, save when it is necessary. This I have already told Frau Werfel—”

“And the food?”

“Must I not eat? They will bring me at least bread and cheese if no other— Now it would be well for you to sleep—if you can now—for in truth you are not strong.”

She was right. Any effort caused moisture to bead my forehead, left my hands shaking. Had they misjudged the dosage to leave me so reduced, or had it been a gamble? A wife safely dead even just after marriage might mean more success for their plans. Only I hardly could believe that that was so. Even though by European law upon marriage a wife became but another possession of her husband, her whole estate forfeited to his control, I did not think in this case they had gone so far as to wish me dead. That might have defeated them by bringing up too many questions from those such as the Princess Adelaide, who would have every desire to get to the bottom of an arrangement
which removed the major part of the Elector’s inheritance from her own grasping hands.

No, I thought I could shift this much truth from the Baron’s and Gräfin’s arguments—a marriage was necessary in order that the treasure pass into their hands. And a marriage would have to be proven before the world—therefore, a bride, willing, must be presented in due time to public notice. I thought that murder wag not within the scope of their planning—not yet.

Lying there, my eyes closed, I did not sleep. My body was sore with the violence their potion had wreaked upon it, my mind was alert, trying to find this path or that out of Kesterhof to freedom. To appeal to the priest would, of course, avail me nothing. I had not seen anything in the man earlier to make me believe that he was one who fulfilled his office with honesty and honor. He would not have lent himself to the charade they had staged this night had he been an upright man of his calling.

Kesterhof and all those within it—even around it—if Truda’s belief was to be accepted—would be stolidly loyal to the Gräfin’s wishes. Was her lord also part of the plot? I thought I could accept that he was.

What could I marshal against all this? My own will and determination and such assistance as Truda could offer. It seemed that David might once more be pitted against Goliath. But my anger was hot, and in me those traits of character which must have been my heritage from my grandmother were ready to carry on a war, unequal though that might be.

I had been used ruthlessly, in such a manner that they appeared to think that I had no method of defending myself. Therefore, suppose I outwardly became the weakling they imagined me, perhaps to weep and pine, but show no will to fight? I did not know how good I was at playing this game, for never in my life had I been forced into such duplicity.

Truda moved softly about the room. My illness, which had begun about midday, must have lasted well
into the night, for I could see that the curtains were drawn at the windows, lamps lighted. What were they doing below, or in the Gräfin’s room—plotting, and planning—what?

I raised one hand as Truda came near the foot of my bed and beckoned to her. Again I saw her glance toward the door. It was there that she went first, to set her ear against its panel, listening. I waited for a long moment and another thought came to trouble me. For I remembered that secret way through which the Colonel and I had gone when we left the palace. In a place as old as this there could be such secrets also—how could I now be sure that I was not under observation from some hidden point?