A Rare and Special Woman
By Sequoia Hope
Baroness Elsa Schraeder was not a particularly sentimental or emotional woman. Only in certain instances of emotional distress did she allow her castle walls to collapse and let in the turbulent flood that swept everything away. Tonight, the stormy waves threatened to consume her.
She had barely escaped the balcony without tears. Now, in the privacy of her room, she wept.
She mourned for a love that had been at her fingertips. It could not be compared to the love in her marriage with her late husband; every love was different, after all. In this love, they had developed a special fondness for each other over the past year. But even though she had hoped for a future with him, in the end, it had been futile to expect a personally favorable outcome.
She was not ignorant; she recognized what he saw in the fräulein, what he valued in her. It went beyond the evanescent moment they experienced together while dancing the night of the party. He was taken by her youthful beauty, her ever-present laughter and undeniably beautiful singing; her tireless energy and optimism; her boldness, fearlessness, and outspokenness; the effortless manner in which she interacted with the children, how lovingly and flawlessly she integrated herself into their lives.
She did not compare herself to the fräulein; they were only two different women, each with something different that he valued and appreciated. In the end, it only depended on of what he most needed in his life. She knew that, in the short time in which he had known the fräulein, he had changed. He seemed less distant, more at ease and at peace. He was not the same man whom she had met a year ago in Vienna. While she certainly enjoyed his more relaxed state, she had recently begun feeling that their lives were changing and diverging from each other. Even if the fräulein had not returned, she was certain that a future with him had not meant to be.
Elsa pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes and face. Seeing the black streaks on the white cloth, she knew her makeup had been ruined. She sighed and took a deep breath. There was no point in delaying any longer.
Within half an hour, she had packed her bags. She glanced around the room to make certain she had not forgotten anything, and her eyes fell on the open window across the room. She went to close it, but paused for a moment upon hearing the crickets and seeing the quietly rippling lake from above. Trees reached toward the Salzburg night sky, where the moon conversed softly with the stars that glinted like tiny diamonds.
Looking down, she did not see the fräulein, but she thought she must still be outside, wandering the premises like a ghost, donned in that soft blue dress. The dress did not suit Elsa's penchant; her wardrobe possessed the finest material and represented a higher state of elegance and formality, in contrast to the fräulein's light and airy attire that reached only just below the knees. If anything, the dress emphasized the fräulein's youthfulness. But she remembered the night when the fräulein had worn the dress when he was playing the guitar. She had noticed the looks. She had observed her leaning comfortably against the wall, the lights casting upon her soft shadows, and noted a subtle, ethereal beauty.
A sense of remorse passed over her as she closed the window. In this turbulent, confusing, nebulous terrain known as love, she knew this one would not have worked out. She remembered the night of the party several weeks ago, when she had spoken with the fräulein. Afterward, she had had champagne with Max, professing that she was in a state of celebration, even though she had only been wearing a façade to mask her bitterness from her brief meeting with the fräulein.
A thought occurred to her. She did not know what good it may do, but she was not a selfish woman. Turning to her luggage, she rummaged through a bag until she withdrew pen and paper. She sat at her bureau and began writing.
Later, with bags in tow, she closed her bedroom door and went in search of the housekeeper.
Soon, she was standing at the front door. She glanced slowly around the grand entrance room, remembering how alive it had been several weeks ago, with the joyous clinks of wine glasses; the merry string instruments singing endless waltzes; the formal suits, the white gloves, the elegant ballgowns dancing. The seven children and their good night performance. A young lady watching them off to the side, wearing a youthful blue and white dress in which, only minutes prior, she had twirled endlessly under his arm. Elsa had remarked that he and the fräulein had made a lovely couple as they danced; at the time, she had spoken those words only out of etiquette. But even though the fräulein had not been formally dressed, she had fit naturally and beautifully into that scene between her and the children's father.
It took a rare and special woman to win Georg's heart.
Moments after the Captain left, there was a knocking, and Maria opened the door.
"Good evening, Fräulein Maria." Frau Schmidt handed Maria an envelope. "I'm very sorry to bother you so late, but the Baroness asked me to deliver this to you."
"The Baroness?" Maria's eyes widened in surprise, but she accepted the envelope.
"She left earlier this evening."
Once alone, Maria opened the cream-colored envelope. She took out and unfolded two sheets of paper, upon which was elegant script written in fine black ink. A few seconds elapsed, and her confusion cleared away upon realizing that this was a letter.
Dear Fräulein Maria,
By the time you read this, I will be en route back to Vienna. It is my hope that Georg has already spoken with you regarding the reason for my departure. If not, I trust that he will not delay for long what I trust will be an important conversation for you.
I wish to keep this note brief, but I would like to express my regrets for the events that occurred privately between us the night of the party several weeks ago. As you can understand, it was difficult for me to watch the man with whom I intended to have a future be taken by another woman, even though, as you have previously mentioned yourself, you have not done anything with the intention of evoking his attention for you. I confess that I carried ill intentions when I spoke to you. My words toward you were spoken out of fear and the desire to protect what I considered my own, and I regret having misled and frightened you with my words that night.
Georg has spoken quite fondly of you during my stay here in Salzburg, and I have seen for myself the role you play in his life as well as those of his children. While Georg and I have envisioned a future together, I must admit that our lifestyle preferences would likely not be compatible with one other. Furthermore, while I am fond of the children in my own way, the prospect of assuming the role of a devoted mother does not especially attract me, to say the least.
I leave Salzburg without intention of returning in the near future. Should you so desire, you are free to follow your heart to what I foresee will be a bright future with a very honorable and fortunate man and his children.
With sincerest regards,
Baroness Elsa Schraeder
