November 1912
Elisabeth von Bernburg looked at her reflection for one last time before heading to the door. She made sure her hair was correctly in place and her blouse immaculate, and she reached for her briefcase. Today, she would do something she never thought she would do again. She was going back to Empress Augusta Boarding School.
After what was decorously referred to as "the incident" had happened, the teacher had left her employment without delay. As Manuela von Meinhardis was still lying in the infirmary bed, recovering from her suicide attempt, she had vowed she would never find herself in such a terrible position again, and had left the school without a goodbye to her beloved students. She had not left Potsdam, however. After a childhood spent moving to various garrison towns as the career of her general of a father dictated, she had finally been able to put down roots, somewhere. And where could she go, at any rate? Having to resign from her teaching position was sufficiently heart-breaking already. She needed to recompose herself and to think about what she wanted to do with her life.
The first thing she did after leaving school was to rent a small house on the outskirts of town. It was not extravagant, nor particularly big, but it was comfortable and cosy, and in no time, she felt more at home here than anywhere before. With the little money saved from all her years of teaching, Elisabeth decided to go back to what had been her passion before working at Empress Augusta. She purchased a few supplies, and took up painting again. She had been told she had talent, once. Certainly, it would not hurt to occupy her days with an activity before finding another suitable position. At first, she felt a little out of practice; her lines were somewhat clumsy and lacking in precision, but it was not long before her technique and inspiration were back. Soon enough, her whole study was filled with canvas of various sizes, and the place was officially turned into a painting room. She would paint spontaneously, finding inspiration in the most common, yet inestimable wonders of life -a beautiful landscape, a bouquet of roses, an elegant woman passing by.
One day, as she was applying the final touches to a watercolour of wild daffodils in the park, she was surprised to meet an art enthusiast who offered to buy her painting. She was rather perplexed, but as money was becoming scarce, she accepted, convinced it was merely a chance encounter and a one-time occurrence. Little did she know this would only the beginning of her recognition as a talented local painter. Soon, she was offered to exhibit her work and to her infinite surprise, selling enough of it to make a comfortable living.
For the first time in what seemed like ages, Fräulein von Bernburg felt happy, and finally fulfilled in doing something she liked without restraint. However, more often than not, she found herself thinking back to her previous life. She missed teaching. She missed seeing her girls every morning for class, looking up to her with so much trust and expectation. And although she had vowed to forget everything about her, to never even let her mind wander to her again, she was missing Manuela more than anything. She often found herself wondering about the girl, about how she was doing now, how she was growing up… The memory of her ice-blue eyes was always there somewhere, latent but relentless. Some nights, those seemed to be boring into her soul, keeping her awake, tormenting her. On those nights, she would get up from her bed, and still in her nightgown, she would start painting Manuela's face as she remembered it. Of course, those were portraits she would never sell. Her only link to Manuela henceforth… until that day.
She had just come back from her morning walk to town, her basket still tucked under her arm, when she found the envelope in her letterbox bearing a stamp she recognised all-too-well. With shaking hands, she broke the seal and began reading.
'Dear Fräulein von Bernburg,
I am surely the last person you would expect to receive a letter from, also, allow me to be forthright in my solicitation. Since you have left your employ at Empress Augusta Boarding School, I am saddened to admit that the reliability of our teaching team has been going downhill. It took several weeks to find you a replacement and, unfortunately, and despite our best efforts, no candidates were suitable to maintain the position long enough. Our eleventh teacher in less than two years has left us just this morning without notice. The parents who entrusted us with their daughters' education are expecting the utmost excellence as a reflection of the Empress' name and the very best teachers, which, as we realised at our expense, includes you, Fräulein von Bernburg.
As you may know, Fräu Oberin's health has drastically declined over the past year, and she has put me in charge of holding the position of Headmistress until she is fully recovered. Also, I have to reveal that I am reaching out to you at her insistence, and for she is convinced you will accept to help us out in these troubled times. By this letter, I am asking you to come back and resume your position as a teacher among us. It may be only for a few months, until we find someone who can effectively replace you. If you value these girls as much as you once said you did, I am sure you will make the right decision. Name your conditions, and you will be welcomed at Empress Augusta as if you had never left.
I am hoping to hear about your decision promptly,
Your faithful colleague and friend,
Fräulein von Racket'
Elisabeth slapped the letter down on the table angrily. How dare this vicious snake ask her anything like that, and call herself her friend, above all else! The nerve! The audacity!
The former teacher took the missive in her hand, ready to rip it to pieces and never hear about Fräulein von Racket, or Empress Augusta Boarding School ever again. But just as she was about to, she caught sight of her most recent portrait of Manuela which was still in need of final touches but was already looking disturbingly realistic. In the darkness of the study, it was almost as if the real Manuela was peering at her. She approached the canvas, hypnotised by the girl's face, reaching out for it. Closing her eyes, she tried to conjure the real image of her in her mind. Manuela looked probably more like a woman now. Did her hair darken, somewhat? Did she still have this innocent, childlike twinkle in her eyes? Maybe her lips were fuller now and… Shaking her head at this improper thought, Elisabeth let out a hopeless sigh and dropped her hand in defeat. She knew she would become crazy if she ignored the opportunity to see Manuela again. She should have never read this letter… But now she had, and she could not ignore what the idea of resuming her position, of being reinstated as a reliable, honest teacher and of seeing her beautiful Manuela again did to her.
But what if her return troubled Manuela? It had been almost two years now, she probably had moved on –certainly, she had forgotten about her. And if she hadn't, it would be even crueller of her to come back. No. She didn't have the right to resume her position as a teacher. For Manuela's sake, she would not accept Fräulein von Racket's offer, and she would be telling her so in person on this very afternoon.