The Wild Girl (36 page)

March 1811

At last Herr Wild had shaved and breakfasted and gone to open the shop. Dortchen at once dropped the plates in the sink and raced across the alley and up the stairs, into the warm disorder of the Grimm family’s kitchen.

Lotte sat weeping by the fire. She looked up as Dortchen opened the door, then flew across the room and into her arms. ‘How did you know to come when I needed you so badly? Oh, it’s terrible. Ferdinand’s gone mad. We don’t know what to do. Thank God you’re here. We all wanted you. Oh, Dortchen, what can we do?’

‘What’s happened? What’s wrong?’

‘Jakob found out that Ferdinand’s been stealing things to sell to get more laudanum – Mother’s pearl ring, Father’s gold cufflinks, a brass candleholder, a little glass vase that Mother always loved …’ Lotte spoke so fast that all her words came out in a tumble.

‘What did Jakob do?’ Dortchen asked, her heart sinking.

‘He was so furious. He locked Ferdinand in his room yesterday morning. Ferdinand’s been in such a rage, banging on the door, shouting. It was unendurable. So we all went out last night – to the ball, you know. To give Ferdinand time to cool off. It was all quiet when we got home. We thought he must have recovered from his temper tantrum, so we went to bed. But, oh, Dortchen, in the middle of the night he began to scream and scream,
like imps were dragging him down into hell. Nothing we could do would calm him. He punched Wilhelm and knocked over his stool and threw his chamber pot at Jakob. The mess!’

Dortchen tried to think which of her father’s remedies might help such madness and rage. Her father would prescribe laudanum, but Dortchen felt sure in her heart that it was Ferdinand’s craving for the opium tincture that was at the root of his problems. She would have suggested chamomile tea, but she knew he would not drink it.

‘He’s been asking for you,’ Lotte said. ‘Dortchen, I … I think he’s in love with you. He keeps yelling out your name, calling you his angel. We found this story …’

‘What story?’ Dortchen demanded.

‘A story about a girl called Henriette.’

Her first name. Dortchen stared at Lotte in dismay.

‘Dortchen … In the story it says that he loves this Henriette, but she is in love with another and all he can do is shoot his rival, or poison him.’

Dortchen sank down onto a chair, twisting the corner of her apron. She had a strange sensation, hot and cold at once, her limbs weakening in a rush. Lotte was staring at her but she could only avert her face.

‘Ferdinand was beside himself,’ Lotte went on. ‘He leapt on Wilhelm and tried to strangle him. Jakob could barely drag him off.’

Dortchen tried to speak but her voice failed her. ‘Is … is he hurt?’ she managed to croak at last.

‘Ferdinand or Wilhelm?’ Lotte’s eyes were intent on her face.

Dortchen felt a betraying flush spread up her chest and face, till it felt as if her cheeks must be scarlet. She would not meet Lotte’s gaze. ‘Both,’ she answered.

‘Wilhelm was hurt badly,’ Lotte replied. ‘Half-strangled to death.’

Dortchen was on her feet, hands pressed against her heart. ‘No! Please, tell me he’s all right.’

‘I knew it!’ Lotte crowed, clapping her hands. ‘You love him, don’t you? Oh, Dortchen, wouldn’t it be wonderful? We’d be sisters.’

‘How badly is he hurt? Where is he?’ Dortchen demanded.

‘He’s fine, apart from a few scrapes and bruises.’ Lotte was smiling in a way that seemed quite heartless to Dortchen. Realising how she had just revealed the most secret part of herself, she sank back into her chair and bent her head down on her arms, so mortified and ashamed that she could not look her friend in the face.

Lotte came and knelt beside her, trying to prise her fingers away. ‘What’s wrong? Are you crying? Why are you so upset?’

‘You mustn’t say anything,’ Dortchen whispered into the darkness of her arms. ‘Please, Lotte.’

‘Surely Wilhelm loves you too?’

Dortchen shook her head violently. ‘He thinks of me as another little sister.’

‘But—’

‘I am almost certain he is in love with Marie Hassenpflug.’

‘Marie? You think so? I mean, we have been seeing them, because of the stories … but I’d swear that’s all it is. It’s you he asks about all the time.’

Dortchen lifted her face. ‘Really?’

Lotte nodded. Her smile was gone and she had an anxious knot between her brows.

‘Dortchen,’ a grave voice came from behind them.

The two girls whipped round, flushed and startled. Jakob stood in the doorway, dressed only in his shirtsleeves, his jaw dark and rough.

‘You’ve heard about Ferdinand?’

Dortchen nodded.

‘He’s been asking for you. Will you come and see if you can calm him? I can do nothing with him – it’s like he’s gone completely mad.’

Dortchen nodded again and stood up, smoothing down her skirt. She hoped there were no signs of tears on her face. Jakob led her along the corridor, with Lotte following behind, and she looked hesitantly into Ferdinand’s bedroom.

Ferdinand crouched in the corner between his bed and the clothes chest. His skin was wet with sweat, and his eyes were strangely bright. Every now and again a shudder shook him. Wilhelm sat on the bed, trying
to coax him out of the corner. ‘You’ve always hated me,’ Ferdinand said, his voice loud and aggressive. ‘You want me gone.’

‘Of course I don’t hate you – how could you say such a thing?’ Wilhelm said in distress. ‘Please, Ferdinand, will you not get back into bed? You need to rest.’

‘You think I can rest? My bones are being gnawed away, my blood is in a fever. Why are you so cruel? Why will you not help me?’

‘I want to help you, you know that. What can I do?’

Ferdinand leant forward eagerly. ‘Get me some more laudanum, Willi. Please. I have to have it. I’ll die without it. Can’t you see how much pain I’m in? Please, Willi. Please.’

Wilhelm shook his head.

Ferdinand began to rock back and forth, whimpering like a hurt animal. His hands shook, and sharp tremors jerked his limbs. He looked at his brother with hatred. ‘Am I to have nothing? Always, everything was done for you and Jakob, and I was left with nothing. Nothing!’ He struck out at Wilhelm, who tried to seize his hands and calm him. Ferdinand cried out at the contact and shrank away, covering his face with his hands.

Dortchen stepped into the room, holding her breath. The room stank – the carpet was stained with the spillage from the chamber pot.

Ferdinand’s head whipped around at the sound of her step, then he was on his feet and rushing towards her. ‘Dortchen! You’ve come. I thought they’d keep you away. Dortchen, you’ve got to help me. They’re trying to kill me. Help me get away from here. You … you can help me. Dortchen, I need … I need more. Please. It’s killing me. Won’t you help me? Please, Dortchen.’

He shook her roughly. She cried out and tried to get free, but he would not let her go.

‘Tell them,’ he demanded. ‘Tell them I need it. I must have it. Get me some. Dortchen, please, can’t you see? It hurts … They’re trying to kill me … Help me.’

Wilhelm and Jakob both raced forward, gripped their brother and struggled to pull him away, but Ferdinand would not let Dortchen go. His
fingers dug deep into the soft flesh of her arms, and his eyes stared into hers, wild and strange. She looked at Wilhelm, begging for help.

‘Let her go!’ Wilhelm cried, wrenching at Ferdinand’s arm.

Ferdinand turned and punched Wilhelm hard in the jaw, sending him sprawling. ‘You!’ he screamed. ‘Why must you have everything and me nothing? It’s not fair. She’s mine, I tell you, mine.’ He seized Dortchen in his arms and kissed her, violently and desperately, his hand writhing in her hair.

She tried to twist herself away but could not. She heard the muslin of her dress rip. She tried to cry out but her voice was stifled by his devouring mouth.

Vaguely, she was aware that Jakob was shouting at Ferdinand to stop. Hands pulled at Ferdinand but he would not let her go, his rough stubble searing her soft skin, her mouth mashed against his teeth. As she struggled against him, he caught her wrist in his hand, hurting her.

Finally, Wilhelm managed to hurl him away. Ferdinand fell and Dortchen staggered backward.

‘Stop it, stop it!’ Lotte screamed.

Panting and in tears, Dortchen pulled together her torn dress. The metallic taste of her own blood was in her mouth. She could still feel the hot brand of Ferdinand’s body against her, the feel of his hand at her breast. Blinded by tears, she turned to flee.

Behind her, Ferdinand cried out. ‘No, Dortchen, don’t go, don’t go! I need you. Can’t you see how much I need you? Help me! …’

Casting a look back over her shoulder, Dortchen saw Ferdinand on the bed, held down by Wilhelm and Jakob, his dark hair in wild disarray. Wilhelm’s eyes met hers, angry, disgusted, hurt, accusing. Tears spilt down her face. She ran from the room.

‘Wait! Dortchen, wait!’ Lotte cried.

But Dortchen did not stop. She ran down the stairs, out the side door and across the alleyway, barely noticing the blast of frigid air that met her. Helter-skelter, she went through the garden gate, wanting only home, safety, silence, seclusion.

Instead, she ran headlong into her father, who was waiting for her in
the garden, his arms folded. He took note of the torn lace, her disordered hair, her swollen lip and flushed face.

‘Wild by name and wild by nature,’ he said coldly. ‘I always knew it. Into my study, Dortchen. Now!’

‘It’s nothing, Father,’ she said, holding her dress together. ‘I slipped, I fell. Nothing’s wrong.’

He cast her a look of scorn and she felt coldness settle down over her. Numbly, she followed him down the hallway. ‘You do not need to beat me, Father. I’ve done nothing wrong.’

‘Where have you been?’ he demanded.

‘Next door. Herr Ferdinand Grimm is unwell. They asked me to look at him.’

‘You lie! You were in the arms of your lover. Do you think I don’t know the signs? Who is he? This Herr Ferdinand of yours?’

Involuntarily, she shuddered. ‘No,’ she answered. ‘I … I have no lover.’

He opened his study door and she hung back, not wanting to go inside. He yanked her in and shut the door behind her. ‘We shall see. Bend over and lift your skirt.’

She backed against the desk. ‘Father, please – I swear to you, I’ve done nothing wrong. Please—’

‘Do you think I don’t know how you deceive me? You are like your whore of a sister, always sneaking out and going behind my back. You think me a fool.’

‘No, Father, I swear—’

He slapped her across her face. ‘Do as I say!’

When she did not obey, he caught her by the arm and spun her around, forcing her face-down over the desk. He dragged up her skirts. She struggled against him, crying, ‘Father, please, this is unseemly – I am not a child.’

‘And no maiden either, I’d wager,’ he answered her, panting with exertion. He twisted her arm up behind her, making her cry out in pain. He yanked down her drawers.

‘Father!’

‘Be quiet,’ he panted.

She tensed, expecting the sting of the switch against her bare buttocks. Instead, she felt her father’s thick fingers enter her from behind. She cried out and he jerked her arm back, forcing her to be still as he probed her.

For a moment, time slowed. She stood still, feeling his fingers thrusting deep, his body forcing her legs further apart.

Then his fingers slid out. He stepped away, fastidiously wiping his hand on his kerchief. ‘So you are a maiden still. He has not yet got you on your back, then. Better keep it that way, I warn you. I’ll be keeping my eye on you, Dortchen Wild.’

Shaking, she pulled up her drawers and dragged down her skirt. She backed away from him.

He cast her a look of angry impatience. ‘Don’t look at me with those wounded eyes, Dortchen. You think you’re the first maiden I’ve checked? Go wash yourself and get ready for dinner. It had better not be late.’

Dortchen left the study and stumbled down the hall. She hardly knew where she was. The house was so cold and so dark and so strange. She bumped her hip trying to climb the stairs, then banged her shoulder on the wall. Her legs were trembling. By the time she reached her bedroom, her breath was short in her throat. She crawled into her bed and lay there, unable to stop the shudders that wracked her from head to toe.

Mia came looking for her later, shouting about supper and the time. When Dortchen did not answer her, Mia galloped back down the stairs. Then Old Marie came in, wiping her damp hands on her apron, her wrinkled face worried.

‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘Are you ill?’

Dortchen did not answer.

‘My sweetling, what’s wrong?’ Then Old Marie saw her torn bodice. Dismay filled her. ‘My poor blessed girl – what’s happened to you? Who was it? Are you hurt?’

‘No!’ Dortchen cried. ‘I’m fine. Leave me be.’

Old Marie patted her shoulder. ‘Now, now, let me help you change. Look at your dress, all torn. I’ll have that mended for you in the morning. What happened? Your father is so angry – what have you done?’

‘Nothing,’ Dortchen whispered.

Old Marie clucked her tongue but said no more. She helped Dortchen into her nightgown, then tucked her in. ‘The old tyrant threatened me with sacking if I came near you, but how could I leave you all alone and upset, my little love? You sleep now, and don’t you mind your father. It’s the world he’s angry at, and he’s taking it out on you.’

She tiptoed away and Dortchen shut her eyes. All she could see was Wilhelm’s angry, accusing gaze, and Ferdinand’s pleading eyes and outstretched hands. It seemed she could please no one, help no one, no matter what she did. She could not get rid of the sour taste of Ferdinand’s mouth, or the feel of her father probing her.

Perhaps her father was right. Maybe she was wild by nature, and so destined to call such loathsome passions upon herself. At the thought, Dortchen began at last to cry, and once she began she could not stop.

The next day was her eighteenth birthday.

THE COMET