Chapter Two - Trust
Johan would not look at the clock in the library, and Lily pointedly did not as well. Kristoff, their driver, had left just after luncheon to pick Miss Wolff up from the station in nearby Larvik. It was a short drive from Larvik to their estate, where Iskall Slott overlooked the Skagerrak strait, which separated Norway from the northernmost peninsula of Denmark. Helene had been invited to stay with them for tea; to Johan's surprise the young French woman agreed and sat next to Lily on the couch near the fireplace.
Damn women and their solidarity!
Johan felt nervous about meeting yet another caregiver who would give them all sorts of promises before requesting near-outrageous sums for their services. Both Dr. Lund and Mother Magda had lectured him thoroughly on the dangers of overusing painkillers like laudanum, but they had yet to provide a suitable replacement to ease his mother's pain.
As this impromptu interview approached, Johan found he didn't want his anger at the whole situation to spill out, even though that anger was a caged beast continuously prowling inside the bones of his ribcage.
This nurse, this Miss Wolff, deserved an impartial inquiry. Johan could do that, in memory of his deceased father. Even if his own wife had hoodwinked him.
In the fraught silence of the library, all of them could hear the crunch of gravel under the tires of Kristoff's car. The outer door must have opened. Some silence ensued.
Then.
Their butler, loyal Kai, opened the door and announced their guest, "Miss Wolff to see his Lordship and Lady Skaldenfoss."
They rose from their respective places as they watched a curvy, white-haired woman enter the room. Johan conducted an instantaneous inspection of the stranger even as he strode towards her to take her hand and introduce himself in person.
Miss Wolff had white-blond hair, but she obviously was not elderly; perhaps not even the same age as his mother. She wore a simple yet lovely dark blue dress and white gloves, though even now she was stripping off those gloves and her hat to hand them to Kai. Her clothes were the same upper-middle-class style that he had always associated with well-educated women such as Mother Magda; clothes that were well-maintained and in good cut and colour, yet without the embellishments of beads, silks, and embroidery that often separated the classes, even now in post-war Norway.
Miss Wolff certainly did not fit in the traditional classification of servant, and Johan distantly wondered if she would keep herself as absent from the rest of the household as the other live-in nurses had over the last six months.
Why had these caregivers proved so aloof, and so inadequate to the task of rehabilitating his mother? Up to this point, he had always considered it their fault and found no blame in firing them.
But with his mother's last confession in his mind, her secret death wish, now Johan wondered… had Anna simply been able to intimidate them all? She was certainly capable; Johan had seen her wield incredible power over her father and the staff over the years, albeit with incredible warmth and laughter and compassion. Had she wielded her power and position over them, these hapless nurses? He would never have believed it before the accident. Back then, his mother would have been incapable of such actions.
The accident… changed everything.
So Johan shook Miss Wolff's hands and noticed that she had strikingly blue eyes and a tall and curvy beautiful figure. If Johan had to guess her age, a perilous action in the least for the young man, he would place her in her late thirties or early forties; perhaps just older than his own thirty-four years. It would make her younger than most of the nurses who had come to care for Anna Arendelle.
Yet when he took her hand to shake it, her grip was firm, and even slightly calloused. This was a working hand, and he felt surprisingly comforted by it.
Johan gestured to the pair of couches that were near the fireplace. After the women had introduced themselves, the four of them sat down together. "Would you care for some tea?" Lily asked, as was her right as the current Lady of the House. Their primary footman, Anders, was already laying out the tea and then he stood back ready to serve.
"That would be much appreciated, thank you," the woman answered, her voice slightly deeper than he anticipated. Her accent was a little strange, somewhat broader and slightly more foreign than Lily's. Trained in aristocracy and peerage at a young age, Johan tried to reconcile this accent to the knowledge that this woman was Canadian.
Something… was strange. Something didn't fit.
Suspicion filled him. Who was this woman? What was her full name?
His family seemed oblivious. Lily did the honours of pouring the tea, adding both cream and sugar at the woman's request, and handed her the cup.
When all the company had tea in their hands, a moment of strange silence reigned. Johan shot a glance at Lily who had started all of this but to his surprise, it was Helene who spoke first. "You are from Canada, Miss Wolff?" his sister-in-law asked. "May I ask what part?"
"I am originally from Alberta, which is now a province in the west of the country," the unknown woman explained, "but I did spend some time in Montreal, and later in France." She spoke the names with a decided French accent, and Helene actually smiled.
This woman. Leif's widow. She smiled.
Johan wanted to fall out of his chair. Helene's smiles were rare things. Like snowfall in July, or rainbows without storms.
He had seen her cast one such smile upon his brother, Leif, once. When Leif had been dying of sepsis, his strange amputated legs under the covers, yet he had stretched forth a hand to stroke Helene's belly, where his unborn daughter lay sleeping.
Helene had smiled then as if smiles were gold and rainbows and northern lights all at once. Johan had seen that smile, given to his dying younger brother, and he forgave all slights, all misgivings he had held at Leif bringing home this anonymous French bride.
He and his mother had been there to witness this moment, this smile that somehow transected all barriers, overcame all class boundaries.
At that moment he understood his mother's war with his father. Hans had only wanted to send Helene and the 'offspring' home to Reims. Helene did not belong, and would never belong, not to this family. Not in his fathers' eyes.
Anna had fought tooth and nail to keep Helene at Iskall Slott. Love was love, she said, and must never be denied. Not by him, not by anyone. And there was no way Helene would raise Leif's baby alone or so far away.
Helene couldn't have been oblivious. Not that night that Leif lay dying of blood infection. She must have known of the war waging between Lord and Lady Skaldenfoss.
So how was it possible that Helene gave this stranger the same sort of smile she once gave her dying husband? Johan's only brother?
"Parlez-vous francais, madame?"
"Oui, je parle un peu de francais, madame," Miss Wolff replied, speaking slowly and carefully before granting them all a small and exquisite smile. "I must apologize, my French is quite rusty."
Johan's ears picked up the strange slang and thought he understood what the woman meant; her French wasn't much used. "What brought you to Norway, Miss Wolff?" Johan asked.
She swiveled her head to look at him. "Strange circumstances and coincidences, to be quite honest, Lord Skaldenfoss. I served in France during the war as part of the Voluntary Aid Detachment, and then I spent a few years in India under the tutelage of a Master of oriental healing practices. I returned to Norway a year ago. India… taught me a great deal. After India, I was ready to return."
Johan could feel Lily twitch next to him. His wife was fascinated by the sub-continent, and he already knew that she would want to ask Miss Wolff a million questions. "When were you first in Norway, then, Miss Wolff?" Johan quickly asked, hoping to forestall any side conversations.
"I was here in 1912, my Lord, visiting distant relatives. It was my father who had immigrated to Canada, which means I still have some family in Norway." For some reason, the words came out rushed, nearly rehearsed. She gave them a quick smile and continued, "I had considered staying for some time, but a simple fishing life was beyond me. I had already completed my training as a nurse and wanted to see more of Europe. So I traveled for two years until the war broke out."
How interesting this woman was! Even Johan wanted to ask further questions, but time was no longer his friend, and his mother was dying.
Even at this very moment, Anna Arendelle was dying.
"I understand that you have been working in Trondheim," Johan said.
"Yes, Lord Skaldenfoss. You are probably familiar with the family I served. I had been the caregiver for the youngest son of the Earl of Galthe. Sadly, he passed away a week ago, just shy of his fourteenth birthday."
"My God, that was Harald, wasn't it? Harald Andersson," Johan said, his father's endless lessons in Norwegian peerage easily supplying him this information.
"Yes, my Lord."
"I didn't even know that he was sick."
"The family kept his illness quiet, my Lord. Once they realized the extent of the consumption, they wanted to maintain a sense of peace, for Lord Harald's sake as well as their own."
Johan turned to regard his cup of tea, his heart suddenly sinking. He couldn't blame Miss Wolff's last charge for dying of consumption; it was a disease with a nearly certain death sentence.
Wait.
"There is no chance you are carrying the disease, is there?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound ignorant. He knew from his years at service that consumption was an infectious disease.
Miss Wolff flashed him a smile to reassure him as she said, "I have been vaccinated against the disease, which is a new technology that has come out of France, and I have passed all my regular check-ups. Indeed, I have cared for other consumptive patients since the war. There is no danger, my Lord, of my passing on an infection to the Dowager Baroness."
Johan felt Lily subtly dig her elbow into his ribs. It was a light touch but meant to chastise him for his ignorance.
Lily spoke up, "That must have been difficult for you, Miss Wolff. To lose someone you had been caring for."
"Indeed it was, Lady Skaldenfoss. It is never easy losing someone you come to love."
The words fell with some weight into the silence of the room. Johan thought of his father, and how Hans would have handled a conversation like this; certainly with more charm and finesse than his mealy-mouthed son. How to maneuver the conversation toward the essentials, to discover if this woman had the spirit and the talent to help heal and rehabilitate his mother?
It turned out that he didn't have to.
Their guest took another sip of tea and then asked, "May I inquire as to whether the Dowager Baroness will be joining us?"
"My mother is… resting," Johan said.
Miss Wolff looked right at him. Her eyes were so blue and keen, cutting right through his subterfuge. "My Lord, please forgive my coming indelicacy, but is that really true? Is she sleeping?"
"Why do you ask?" Lily asked.
The slight white-haired woman looked right at Lily and gave her a small but strong smile. "I only ask, Lady Skaldenfoss, because if the Dowager Baroness is ill, or in pain, or in need of assistance, then I beg of you to allow me to see her. Isn't that why I am here? To help her? I promise that you can grill me on my qualifications later."
Lily shot a quick look at Johan, for once as if asking his permission, and he nodded. "If only you could help her…" Lily began.
"I will do my best, my lady." Miss Wolff set down her cup of tea and stood from the couch.
A little startled by the suddenness of her movement, everyone else stood as well. Lily began to call for Kai, but Johan put a hand on his wife's shoulder. "I'll take her up myself, Lily."
It's the least a son could do, he thought.
…
Elsa Wolff took up her kit and followed the young Lord, marveling at being inside this grand house. Iskall Slott was an actual castle, albeit a small one, set upon a hill that overlooked the strait. A hundred kilometers south of the capital of Oslo, in ancient times it had provided fortification and defense, though now it was a house of luxury and comfort.
It was large, it was crowded with artwork and gilded furniture and priceless heirlooms, and yet Elsa sensed a faint undercurrent of unease as if the house itself was unsure of its place in this world. The Andersson family had also been wealthy and part of the Norwegian aristocracy, but Elsa had treated Harald at their country house, away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the estate near Trondheim.
As Elsa walked behind Lord Skaldenfoss, her eyes gobbled up the ornate woodwork, the sculptures and artwork, and the precious chandeliers. She had seen many strange and beautiful things since leaving Canada many years ago, and since encountering the thunderstorm that forever altered her life, but never anything quite like this.
Lord Skaldenfoss led up her a wide flight of stairs, and immediately Elsa wondered why the Dowager Baroness did not have a room on the main floor, so she did not have to constantly navigate stairs. Had no one else thought to ask? Had no other caregiver insisted? Just what kind of care had the Dowager Baroness received thus far?
The young Lord continued down a gallery that overlooked the main hallway and then turned a corner. He paused just outside a closed door. "If she's asleep…" he began to say.
Elsa could hear a broken note of heartache in his voice. Dowager Lady Skaldenfoss would not be sleeping very well most nights, Elsa could well imagine. Pockets of rest during the day would be necessary, but never enough. In the face of his anxiety, Elsa took a single long breath and nodded. It seemed to give courage enough to the young man.
As was their custom, he knocked very lightly on the door and then proceeded to enter, Elsa on his heels.
Elsa's eyes quickly scanned the room and came to rest on the suffering Anna Arendelle.
The Dowager Baroness lay on her side facing the center of her four-posted bed, her hands gripping the sheets in white-knuckled fists. Her breath was shallow and fierce. Sweat beaded her brow, and her eyes were screwed shut. Elsa could see that she was weeping, yet she remained nearly soundless in her misery and pain. Her entire body was slight and withered; her skin was sallow, her red hair coming loose from two simple braids, and all the movement in her body happened in her upper torso.
Elsa's heart lurched to see the silent face of such immense suffering. A thread of anger spooled within her, where was the nurse who was oblivious to her lady's agony?
So Elsa continued scanning the room and saw another woman, dressed in the habit of a nurse, sitting on a chair near the window with a loop of embroidery on her lap. The nurse's eyes grew wide and surprised as they came fully into the room.
"Lord Skaldenfoss? I wasn't expecting you…" the woman said quietly.
"I see that you were not," Lord Skaldenfoss said, cutting her off. "Could you excuse us please, Nurse Adelsson?"
A red flush of anger and embarrassment covered her face, and the stout nurse took up her embroidery to leave the room. Just before she left, Elsa spoke up. "Nurse Adelsson, when did you last give her ladyship laudanum?"
The nurse's eyes flashed between the young Lord and the form of his suffering mother, before coming to rest on Elsa's. "An hour ago it was," she said. "The lady had been begging for it."
"An hour. Thank you." With this one glance, Elsa could see evidence of the opiate in the lady's system. Laudanum caused a certain spasm of the hands, a particular brightness and colour of breath. Elsa had seen many others afflicted with opiate addiction during the war and the years since, and she hoped with all her heart that the Dowager Baroness had not been using steadily for the last eight months. The withdrawal alone would be terrible to experience.
And although Elsa knew that her interview was in progress, that she was on trial now for this position, all she could feel were familiar waves of compassion and empathy for the pained woman before her. "Lord Skaldenfoss, if I may be so bold to ask, could you close both sets of window shutters? We must cut the amount of light in the room." Even as she spoke Elsa was moving around the large bed, noticing a jug of water and a basin nearby, along with a small stack of clean towels. Thank God for miniscule miracles.
Lord Skaldenfoss readily did as she requested. Elsa turned all her attention to the older woman in the bed as the bright light in the room began to ease. "Now my lady, this is a strange voice you are hearing for the first time, but please do not open your eyes or try to get up. We won't be standing on any social ceremonies at the moment." Elsa used a calm and rhythmic tone of voice, honed from years of practice.
As she spoke, she poured water into the basin and dipped the towel into it. She wrung it out as she continued to speak. "I know you might not be able to hear or understand me very well, my lady, but please just hear the sound of my voice. Just listen and don't worry about anything else. Everything will be all right in a moment, my lady. I have a nice cool cloth here that I'm going to place on the back of your neck, no, you don't need to move, my lady, let me serve you, I'll just pull your hair aside, just like that."
Elsa performed the actions as she spoke of them, gently lifting the braids of red hair streaked with strands of grey and placing the damp cool towel on the back of the lady's neck. "My name is Miss Wolff, my dear lady, Elsa Wolff. I'm from Canada, though the full story of how I came to be in Norway is something I will save for another day. There is time for all stories to be told, my lady, because there is always time for all good things. Believe me, my lady, for I know this well."
For his part, Johan just stood back and watched this unknown woman take complete charge in a matter of moments. She had done something to her voice in speaking to his mother, something that did not treat Anna as an invalid or a child. She was using a voice that was simple and womanly and incredibly warm, with a tone of voice that an old friend might use. It was not the condescending or somewhat distant voice of a doctor, nor the sugary hesitation of some of the nurses.
It nearly broke his heart yet again to hear his mother weeping so great was her pain. They were quiet, mewling cries, like lambs lost in cruel darkness. In his visits with her over the last eight months, he had heard a dozen variations of her tears, and it was this particular cry that devastated him most. This was a cry of abject surrender and utter defeat, a cry that begged for release to come in any way imaginable, even death.
This was a cry that knew with edged clarity that the other half of her heart and her life was gone, Hans was gone forever, and her life would never, could never be the same.
Anna and Hans had fought, of course they had, and Johan had seen his father treat his mother with certain derision and disdain. But they had also danced together, and often slept in the same bedroom together, and managed the affairs of the estate together. They had loved each other, of that Johan was quite certain. So how did his mother cope with the loss of everything that had once provided the foundation for her very life?
God, if this is how Anna felt even after taking the laudanum, how could she bear the pain without it?
Miss Wolff continued talking. He was glad he now knew her full name, though they would address her by her last name as was their custom. Elsa – it seemed to suit her. "I'm going to be quiet again in a moment, my lady, but I do have a few short questions to ask you. You don't have to open your eyes. You don't have to control your crying, yes, I heard you trying my dear, but please don't. There can be truth between us, you and I." The therapist moved around the bed to sit on the edge facing Anna. "If you would please allow me, my lady, may I take one of your hands? Move slowly, my heart. Take your time. Let me anchor you, you are not lost alone upon the sea, not any longer."
Johan felt a little shocked by the endearments that flowed from this woman's mouth. None of the other nurses had treated his mother so familiarly.
Nor with such immediate warmth and caring.
Yet a few moments later Anna relaxed her grip on the sheets and took Miss Wolff's hand. Anna had not yet opened her eyes, and tears kept rolling soundlessly down her cheeks and into the pillow.
"All right my dear one, my lady, whenever you are ready just give my hand a little squeeze. Take your time, there is no rush here, it's nice and cool and quiet now, and my voice is so soft, so light, like a gentle ocean breeze. Like a breeze, let my voice flow over you. Let it ground you, let it bring you back to the shore. Do not hold onto the words I speak, do not try to understand me or respond. My voice is the breeze itself, my heart, and we can never catch the breeze with our hands. Hear my voice and when you are ready you may squeeze my hand as if you were holding the precious hand of your own grandbabies. Ah, there we are. That's how I know you can hear me, my lady."
Johan continued to listen in fascination as the woman before him somehow harnessed his mother's weeping with the smooth rhythm of her speech, bringing those cries down from their fast and piteous mewling to slow gulping sobs.
"Now, dear heart, I am going to list some places where you might be in pain. I'll go slowly. Please squeeze my hands if you are feeling pain in those areas. Don't open your eyes unless you want to, don't speak unless you are ready to. I am here to serve you, my lady, and in this room time is meaningless. Now. Do you hurt in your head, your shoulders, your middle back, your lower back, your chest, your abdomen, your legs, or your feet?"
Johan felt a distinct twinge as Miss Wolff spoke. He wanted to barge in, and tell Miss Wolff that his mother couldn't feel anything in her legs or feet; she was paralyzed from the waist down, for God's sake! But he kept his tongue and his temper as the therapist spoke.
Elsa Wolff was barely aware of Lord Skaldenfoss watching her, evaluating her speech, her movements. She existed only for Anna Arendelle, nothing else mattered.
And Lady Skaldenfoss had squeezed her hand, so faintly yet so deliberately, after at least half of the words she had spoken.
"Dear lady, take a few deep breaths and tell me, only when you are ready, where does it hurt you the most?" Elsa's eyes were focused on the chapped lips. Almost imperceptible was the movement that created the first words she heard Anna Arendelle speak.
Her voice was husky, and soft, and broken. She spoke only two words, but those words tugged at something deep inside Elsa Wolff.
"My head."
Elsa nodded. Lady Lily had mentioned the injuries that beset the Dowager Baronesss in their initial inquiries. This poor woman before her had suffered a broken right femur and left tibia. Her legs had only come out of their casts and traction six weeks ago. She had suffered a hairline fracture of the skull, cracked ribs, and a fractured vertebra of the spine as well. She was paralyzed from the waist down, and the doctors said that she would never stand on her own two feet again.
No more dancing for Anna Arendelle, Lady of Skaldenfoss.
Well, Elsa Wolff would see about all of that.
But first things first.
With uncharacteristically bright Norwegian sunlight pouring into this room before her arrival, small wonder that her lady's head would be fit to burst, even with a dose of opiate. Elsa would have thrown that nurse out herself had not the Baron done it.
"My Lord," she said quietly, turning her head to look at Johan Arendelle, not releasing his mother's hand, "I have a salve in my bag. It is an ointment of eucalyptus and mint, among other things. With your permission, I would like to administer it to Lady Skaldenfoss's temples and forehead. It is an external medication only."
"Please, do what you think is best," he instantly replied.
Elsa was about to release Lady Skaldenfoss's hand in order to reach into her kit, but was surprised to feel the lady clutch at her hand even more tightly. "Don't go," Lady Skaldenfoss whispered, her eyes still closed.
"Hush, my dear one, I'm not going anywhere," Elsa whispered as she turned back to her lady, cupping her hand with both of her own.
It was a small movement, so understated in its simplicity, but the purity of it struck straight into Johan Arendelle's heart. In mere minutes, this particular therapist had managed to impress him more than anyone else he had encountered in the long months since the accident.
So Johan lifted Miss Wolff's bag from the floor and put it next to her. The therapist shot him a grateful smile even as she then rummaged, one handed, into her bag for the salve. When she removed it from the bag, she then hesitated; he took it from her long enough to open it and hand it back to her. If his mother didn't want to let go of Miss Wolff's hand, then she wasn't going to have to let go.
"Thank you, my lord," Miss Wolff quietly said. She put a dollop of thick white cream on the tip of her finger and then began gently rubbing it on Anna's temple. Anna still hadn't released Miss Wolff's other hand, so Miss Wolff had to work one-handed. Again, the obvious tenderness and care she used with his suffering mother struck deep chords of respect in his heart. Maybe she could actually help Anna where no one else could.
No, it was too early to tell. Let the impromptu interview continue. His mother's convalescence aside, how many times could Johan's hopes be broken?
"My lord, this next part might take some time," Miss Wolff said in a low voice as she gently turned Anna's head to apply the salve to her other temple. "This salve will help to restrict the blood vessels leading to the brain, bringing down the pressure that is leading to her headache. Then there are certain pressure points in her hands and feet, and along her back and spine, that I can touch that will also bring down her pain. I should like to stay here until her ladyship is feeling better. By all means, I would welcome a witness or chaperone to remain in the room with me while I progress through the treatment."
"I shall send up Gerda, she is my mother's lady's maid," Johan replied, inwardly grateful and still impressed by Miss Wolff's honesty and intentions. He started to leave, but then stopped before the door.
Anna had stopped crying. Johan had not known how much it hurt him to hear his mother crying, how it resounded like a wave of artillery against the fortress of his heart until the sound softly ceased.
In the moment of strange silence that ensued, he could hear gulls crying out across the water, and the sound of waves breaking peaceably against the shore at the base of the cliff below Iskall Slott. These were beloved sounds, the sounds of his youth and childhood, where he had a brother and sisters and parents who loved him, before the war came, before change came, before came a certain wintery dawn along train tracks of iron and snow and blood.
The shutters of his mother's bedroom were closed, yet he allowed a ray of hope, slim and faint, to enter his heart.
He allowed himself a moment to enjoy this silence, to hear the softness of his mother's breath, to see her body slightly relax into her bed. He had an apology to offer to his wife for his earlier belligerence.
"Thank you, Miss Wolff," he whispered into this gentle and fertile silence.
The still unknown and unfamiliar woman lifted her head. She really was quite striking, with a long pale neck to accompany her pale hair, and her deep blue eyes. He could sense immense history and immense heartache in those eyes; they looked like a sea he had once witnessed as an officer of the naval fleet, a sea in which a full harvest moon had kissed the surface of placid waves, sending ripples of cobalt and silver off into the unseen horizon. He had been transfixed by the sight; that was the moment that God whispered to him, whispering of things that were, things that are, and things that could be.
If only he could have seen this. He could have been better prepared. Why had the moon kept all this from his sight?
"It is my pleasure, my lord," Miss Wolff replied. The words were formulaic, but Johan could actually hear sincerity behind them. He paused long enough to pull the cord that would alert Gerda down in the servant's quarters, nodded once more to Elsa Wolff, and then exited the room. Lily was waiting.
Elsa did not wait for the door to close before she resumed her work, gently rubbing the salve onto her lady's forehead and temples. She worked slowly and carefully, immensely pleased to find Lady Skaldenfoss's body relaxing a little more into her mattress, her weeping down to an occasional hiccup and broken breath.
The smell of eucalyptus was strong in the room; a completely foreign scent here in Norway. Elsa breathed deeply, thinking of Greece and walking through great groves of spicy smelling trees.
Elsa even thought briefly of the woman whose hand she had been holding that day.
Elsa had set the vial aside when the door opened and a large, soft and affable woman came into the room.
"Please forgive me for not rising," Elsa said, taking both of Lady Skaldenfoss' hands again while rubbing them lightly with the salve, applying pressure to certain points on her palm and wrists. "I am Elsa Wolff, and it is a pleasure to meet you."
"I am Gerda Henriksen, and the pleasure is mine," came the immediate response. Gerda hovered a step away, dressed in a simple green dress. She was perhaps Elsa's age, for there were stories innumerable in the faint lines around her mouth and neck, and in the depth of her eyes. Elsa liked her immediately. "How is her ladyship?" came the anxious question.
"I believe a slight improvement has been made," Elsa replied, looking tenderly at her charge in the bed. It was true that the abject sobbing had stopped, though the hands she held still reflexively clenched and released in her own, mirroring perhaps the waves of pain that still crested through her lady's body.
"I do not wish to disturb either of you. Shall I sit over here?" Gerda asked, gesturing to the chair by the window where the previous nurse had been sitting.
"Please, Lady Henriksen…"
"I'm no lady. You may address me as Gerda. Everyone else does."
Elsa smiled even as she inwardly chastised herself for calling this servant a lady. Had she learned nothing by living with Harald's family in Trondheim? These ancient social graces were still so hard for her! "All right. Would you wait just a moment, Gerda?"
Elsa looked down at Anna Arendelle. She caressed her lady's hand and spoke. "My dear Lady Skaldenfoss, I hope you are starting to feel better. I do have one other technique that I can use to bring your pain back to manageable levels. It may seem unorthodox, my lady, even arcane, but please, I believe it will help you. But only with your permission…"
Elsa suddenly drew in a breath and paused in her words, for Lady Skaldenfoss opened her eyes for the first time.
She opened her eyes, and Elsa tripped on them, and tumbled into them, and started to drown.
For Anna Skaldenfoss had teal eyes, the eyes of sunsets on seas, eyes of jewels hidden in dark slabs of stone, eyes of jeweled tiny birds that had fluttered around the monastery in India, and never had Elsa Wolff believed she would see eyes like these again!
God, help me!
With sheer force of will, Elsa forced herself to look at this woman, with her graying red hair, the withered and slight and bent body in the sheets, to see her as she was. This was not an apparition from the past. This was real. This was now. This was Anna Arendelle, Dowager Baroness of Skaldenfoss.
This woman opened her eyes and looked up at Elsa. Her eyes were dark and wounded orbs in the dim light of the room, but Elsa couldn't help but see the tiniest spark of hope in them. It was truly only a spark, dimmer than a single candle in the voracious dark, for surely the Lady Skaldenfoss could fathom no more, not when pain had become the length and breadth of her days, the sharp edge of every grain of sand that passed through the hourglass of time.
Then Lady Skaldenfoss spoke three words, and Elsa instantly loved her for them.
"I trust you."
Unimaginable pity and empathy rose to obstruct Elsa's throat, and she could make no immediate reply. Images suddenly bombarded her mind; horses screaming with men as clods of mud and blood flew through the air, a pale face with red lips and teal eyes smiling among the backdrop of far mountains while primroses peeked through snow, and pebbles of a cave dislodging and falling to the ground as lightning struck and thunder roared and blackness pressed with insistent hands into Elsa's eyes and ears.
Elsa closed her eyes and took a breath, just as her Master in India had taught her.
And in that breath, everything extraneous fell away. Elsa fell in love with the present moment. With here, and now.
With the suffering lady before her, who looked to Elsa for salvation.
Elsa opened her eyes again and breathed in the gift of courage and trust that Lady Skaldenfoss had just given her. "Thank you, my lady," Elsa whispered.
A ghost of a smile fluttered at the edge of Lady Skaldenfoss's lips; the sight of it transformed her.
But then her face twisted in a grimace, her hand tightened in Elsa's grasp, and she closed her eyes even as she took a sharp inhale.
Right.
Elsa lightly squeezed her lady's hands before rising from the bed, aware of how long her lady clutched at them before reluctantly letting go. "I know you are in pain, my heart. I have a treatment for you, one that I learned in the high mountains of northern India, where snow blanketed the slopes and birds sang their brilliant songs. So, my dear lady, please stay exactly where you are, you don't need to move. I'm moving to the other side of the bed because I need to be behind you for this treatment to work. Now, strange as this may sound, I'm going to pull down your covers because I need to put my hands on your back and your neck. But first I will adjust your legs, for your spine to be as straight as possible…" Once again Elsa described the actions just before she undertook them, well able to see a measure of confusion and concern on Gerda's face. Elsa wondered if the same confusion and concern were upon Lady Skaldenfoss's face.
Gerda's eyes had adjusted to the dimness of the room and she watched the tableaux unfold with initial trepidation and unease. She could already tell that this stranger, this Miss Wolff, was a foreigner, though her accent differed slightly from Lady Lily's. Gerda was indignant at first; the temerity of this woman, to just strip aside the covers and start manhandling her dear ladyship, even with Anna's speculative by-your-leave! Gerda narrowed her eyes as she watched Miss Wolff gently straighten Anna's paralyzed legs before removing the towel that had been on her neck.
Then Miss Wolff looked at Gerda and asked, "Gerda, could you please sit where I had been seated? I will need your assistance in a moment."
Gerda nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed. Miss Wolff sat down on the other side; Anna was between them. She watched as Miss Wolff ran her fingers down Anna's spine, over the cloth of the light linen shift she wore, stopping at the very base of her lower back, all paralyzed and motionless as it was. Gerda had no idea if Miss Wolff had really trained in India, but her movements were confident and professional.
"You're doing so very well, my lady," Miss Wolff continued, "just continue to hear my voice, to breathe so gently, so deliberately. I'm going to do some light rubbing and then I'm going to apply some pressure along specific points on your back. If you please, my lady, take one of Gerda's hands and hold it. If the pain lessens, just hold it softer. If the pain increases, squeeze it, and Gerda will let me know. All right, my dear heart, here we go."
Gerda had never been in this kind of position before, but she didn't mind. She would have done almost anything to help ease her ladyship's pain. Anna reached for her hand, to hold it in a tense and painful grip, and Gerda's throat tightened in sympathy for this immediate pain, and all the months of pain in the past. She had witnessed so much of Anna's agony, starting from the day after her surgeries in Olso. Gerda had rushed to the city to care for her lady; she and Lady Ingrid spending as much time as possible in the hospital over the next two months.
Lady Anna had been comatose for her husband's funeral. She regained consciousness nearly a week after the accident. After two months she was deemed well enough to be transported home to Iskall Slott. This very bed had been rigged with traction for Anna's broken back and legs. She had seen Anna's frustration and misery as she was washed and bathed like the grandbabies up in the nursery. She watched Anna's spirit darken, her personality change, as she snapped at her caregivers and intimidated her nurses.
When Anna had finally come out of traction six weeks ago, and the casts removed from her legs, Gerda had thought the worst was finally over.
Gerda had been wrong.
X-rays at the hospital in Larvik proved that her bones had knit well enough, even that fracture of her vertebra in her back. It should have been clear sailing from that point, steady progress towards recovery, even if Anna would never walk again.
But an unseen blight had remained, a terrifying wound of Anna Arendelle's spirit. To Gerda's horror, she had started to witness Anna's decline; she ate less, she rarely left the room even in her wheelchair, and she rejected the efforts of her previous nurses in rehabilitating her atrophied legs.
Gerda held her lady's hand and wondered if this new nurse possibly had the fire of spirit to match that of Anna Arendelle. Miss Wolff was doing admirably so far, even if Gerda didn't fully understand just what she was doing. She watched as Miss Wolff rubbed small circles over the fabric covering her ladyship's lower back, and then Miss Wolff placed the heels of her palms and her thumbs on each side of Lady Skaldenfoss's spine. After a few minute,s Gerda could feel Anna release the pressure in her hands, showing that the pain was subsiding. Gerda wasn't sure what signal to use, so she nodded and looked at Miss Wolff, who accepted the unspoken information with a nod of her own.
The new nurse wasn't speaking any longer, but she was breathing quite deliberately. Gerda furrowed her eyebrows in confusion for only a moment, but then she understood. Anna had been breathing quite strangely when Gerda had first entered the room, but now it seemed that she was unconsciously trying to emulate the slow and deliberate breathing of Miss Wolff. Anna's breathing faltered and broke many times in the minutes that slowly passed as she attempted to achieve a solid rhythm with the nurse.
So Gerda watched as Miss Wolff slowly worked her way up Anna's spine, stopping again and again with infinite patience. The quiet in the room seemed to take on a sacred quality, as if it had finally become a true healing space. By the time Miss Wolff moved to the base of Anna's skull, her lady was breathing somewhat calmly, but her body was still somewhat rigid with pain.
Miss Wolff placed her thumbs into the little hollows at the base of Anna's skull, her hands wrapping around the woman's slight neck, the tips of her fingers pressing against the joints of Anna's jaw. Then she sat there, head bent slightly down, a small smile on her lips. And then Miss Wolff waited.
More long minutes passed, but they were minutes of gold and honey, not of darkness and tar. Gerda found that she was also somehow breathing in tandem with Miss Wolff.
Gerda could not deny it when it happened. It was clearer than the shuttered rays of daylight denied entry to her lady's bedchamber.
Anna Arendelle melted.
At once it seemed as if al the tension in her body simply slipped away. Anna's head dipped deeper into the pillow, and her slight and wizened frame relaxed in its entirety. She released her hold on Gerda's hand. Deep breathing became smooth and rhythmic in moments, like waves upon the sea, and Gerda watched as Anna slipped undeniably, beautifully, into true sleep.
Gerda looked at Anna in amazement, and then at Miss Wolff, who waited a full minute or two longer before carefully releasing her hold on Anna's neck and head. She carefully eased herself off the bed and motioned for Gerda to do likewise. Miss Wolff pulled up the thin coverlet and tenderly tucked it over Anna's sleeping form, giving Anna a quick caress on the shoulder as she did so. "Sleep well, my heart," Gerda heard Miss Wolff whisper.
Then Miss Wolff stood up, swaying slightly, her hand to her own back for a moment before she stretched and straightened fully.
"If you please, Gerda, I am happy to return to Lord and Lady Skaldenfoss," Miss Wolff whispered as she smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress.
Gerda nodded and began to lead them both from the room. Just before the door, she looked once more at the sight of Dowager Lady Skaldenfoss sleeping quietly and peacefully in her bed.
A rare sight, this was. Gerda wanted to remember it, just in case it proved fleeting.
Then she escorted Miss Wolff from the room and carefully closed the door behind them.
...
Author's Note: I am still working on the original version of Dark Horse, but have had this story in my mind for some years. This is an experiment in fiction for me, I am trying out a different style of writing, and I hope you enjoy it.
My apologies to any Norwegian person reading it who finds my version of events to be other than the truth. I did some research for this story, but in the end, it is fiction. I'll do my best to honour historical events while providing you all with a romantic story.
As always, likes and reviews are appreciated! I plan on updating this story once a week, though we will start with two chapters, just to give you a good taste of what's to come.
Yours, Jen