Marilee’s reluctance. He could name dozens of women who’d leap at such an invitation. Just who did she think she was?
It was only with great effort that he was able to muster a tight smile and say, “Yes, my darling, we’ll all have a lovely time.”
But the smile was genuine when he added, “And I promise it will be a visit neither of you will ever forget!”
Chapter Eight
Amalia was livid.
There had not been a day since Rudolf had sneaked off that she had not reread the terse note he had left on his pillow, crying and cursing all the while she did so.
Mother, dear,
I have gone to Spain to attend the wedding of a special friend’s cousin. I did not tell you of my plans in advance because I knew you would worry. I should be back in a few weeks.
Love,
Rudolf
The note was worn, tattered—and so were her nerves.
“Elenore!” she screamed in the quiet gloom of her bedroom suite. “Elenore! I want you to come in here. Now!”
She did not stop to think that her daughter might be out. Elenore knew better than to be like her disobedient brother and leave without asking permission.
How Amalia wished it had never been necessary to leave Vienna. There, she’d had control over the children. Here, it was different. The city was filled with refugees from the war—all kinds and classes—and she had not wanted them exposed to such. If only Elenore were still in school and she could persuade Rudolf to go away to a conservatory and get on with his music, she would not have to worry about their being exposed to undesirable company.
Both of them had been acting mysteriously lately, but Rudolf was worse…and his leaving for so long without permission was the final blow.
“Elenore! I want you in here now!” she bellowed again.
Amalia wanted to interrogate her once more about Rudolf’s “special friend”. Oh, Elenore pretended not to know anything and swore Rudolf had confided nothing to her about his plans and that she had no idea whom he had gone to visit. But Amalia was sure she was lying. She had always prided herself on being one step ahead of her children and was now furious with herself for not having sensed that Rudolf was up to something.
Once again she read the note, straining to see in the dim light. She had ordered the thick velvet drapes closed against the sunshine. When Amalia was unhappy, she detested sunshine and blue skies, preferring stormy weather to match her dismal mood.
In ultimate frustration, she wadded the note and threw it furiously into the empty grate of the fireplace.
She began to pace aimlessly about the cheerless room. It was so dreary, with its dark, heavy furniture, faded wallpaper, and worn carpets. But it was the nicest room in the decaying old castle, so she had moved Ilsa out, even before she died. The old lady was so crazy in the head she never said a word when she was locked away in a small room in the basement to wait to die. Amalia could still remember the feeling of relief that morning when Ulda, the housekeeper, came running up the stairs, nearly stumbling and falling in her haste and terror, to report she had found her mistress dead in bed when she’d taken down her breakfast tray.
Ilsa, Amalia felt, had only been in the way, and once she was gone, the castle legally became the children’s. Oh, not that it was worth all that much in its present state of deterioration, but it was a place to live, and there were still boxes in the basement to go through in hopes of finding more valuables to sell to pay for Rudolf’s studies at a conservatory.
“If he ever recovers from his temporary state of insanity!” Amalia said aloud.
“Oh, Mother, he’s not insane!”
Elenore’s exasperated voice startled her. “How dare you sneak up on me this way? My nerves are shattered enough as it is, thanks to your thoughtless brother, without you scaring me half to death.”
“Are you sure you aren’t just afraid Grandmother’s ghost will come back to haunt
It was only with great effort that he was able to muster a tight smile and say, “Yes, my darling, we’ll all have a lovely time.”
But the smile was genuine when he added, “And I promise it will be a visit neither of you will ever forget!”
Chapter Eight
Amalia was livid.
There had not been a day since Rudolf had sneaked off that she had not reread the terse note he had left on his pillow, crying and cursing all the while she did so.
Mother, dear,
I have gone to Spain to attend the wedding of a special friend’s cousin. I did not tell you of my plans in advance because I knew you would worry. I should be back in a few weeks.
Love,
Rudolf
The note was worn, tattered—and so were her nerves.
“Elenore!” she screamed in the quiet gloom of her bedroom suite. “Elenore! I want you to come in here. Now!”
She did not stop to think that her daughter might be out. Elenore knew better than to be like her disobedient brother and leave without asking permission.
How Amalia wished it had never been necessary to leave Vienna. There, she’d had control over the children. Here, it was different. The city was filled with refugees from the war—all kinds and classes—and she had not wanted them exposed to such. If only Elenore were still in school and she could persuade Rudolf to go away to a conservatory and get on with his music, she would not have to worry about their being exposed to undesirable company.
Both of them had been acting mysteriously lately, but Rudolf was worse…and his leaving for so long without permission was the final blow.
“Elenore! I want you in here now!” she bellowed again.
Amalia wanted to interrogate her once more about Rudolf’s “special friend”. Oh, Elenore pretended not to know anything and swore Rudolf had confided nothing to her about his plans and that she had no idea whom he had gone to visit. But Amalia was sure she was lying. She had always prided herself on being one step ahead of her children and was now furious with herself for not having sensed that Rudolf was up to something.
Once again she read the note, straining to see in the dim light. She had ordered the thick velvet drapes closed against the sunshine. When Amalia was unhappy, she detested sunshine and blue skies, preferring stormy weather to match her dismal mood.
In ultimate frustration, she wadded the note and threw it furiously into the empty grate of the fireplace.
She began to pace aimlessly about the cheerless room. It was so dreary, with its dark, heavy furniture, faded wallpaper, and worn carpets. But it was the nicest room in the decaying old castle, so she had moved Ilsa out, even before she died. The old lady was so crazy in the head she never said a word when she was locked away in a small room in the basement to wait to die. Amalia could still remember the feeling of relief that morning when Ulda, the housekeeper, came running up the stairs, nearly stumbling and falling in her haste and terror, to report she had found her mistress dead in bed when she’d taken down her breakfast tray.
Ilsa, Amalia felt, had only been in the way, and once she was gone, the castle legally became the children’s. Oh, not that it was worth all that much in its present state of deterioration, but it was a place to live, and there were still boxes in the basement to go through in hopes of finding more valuables to sell to pay for Rudolf’s studies at a conservatory.
“If he ever recovers from his temporary state of insanity!” Amalia said aloud.
“Oh, Mother, he’s not insane!”
Elenore’s exasperated voice startled her. “How dare you sneak up on me this way? My nerves are shattered enough as it is, thanks to your thoughtless brother, without you scaring me half to death.”
“Are you sure you aren’t just afraid Grandmother’s ghost will come back to haunt
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