Ida emerged from a fitful slumber with her head pounding most viciously and her tongue dry in her mouth. She groaned, hiding her face in her pillow to avoid the merciless rays of sunshine assaulting her from behind the blinds. She waited, motionless for a while in the hopes that the throbbing would go away and the room would stop spinning. She wished for nothing more than to go back to sleep, or die, in no particular order of preference. Her treacherous mind, however, seemed otherwise inclined, instead conjuring confused and unsolicited bits of memories from the night before.
"Make it stop," she yelled to no one in particular, and winced at the sound of her cavernous voice.
How she had even been able to make it home last night, drunk and on her own, was an absolute wonder. Unless… With great effort, she rolled on her back and proceeded to slap the other side of the bed with a clumsy arm, relieved when she felt no sign of another human being under the blankets. Thank Heavens. Her splitting headache and confused state were enough already without adding to it unpleasant conversation with whomever she would have found enticing enough last night to bring home with her. With great effort, she extricated herself from under the rumpled sheets, willing herself to briefly open her eyes purely for safety considerations as she groped her way towards the bathroom. Once there, she fumbled for the sink and splashed some water onto her face, hoping it would help clear her fuzzy mind to some extent. She chanced a look at her blurry, dishevelled reflection in the mirror and gasped in horror.
"Some socialite you are," she sighed, almost hearing Manuela's voice in her head as she did. The idea of the younger woman seeing her in this state drew a tired chuckled from her lips, but it quickly turned into a gasp of terror. Manuela. Elisabeth…
She staggered back to her bedroom and threw her exhausted body over the mattress once more, rubbing her pulsing temples and willing herself to organise the mess of information jumbling in her head. She remembered the concert, the thrill that had come with the heated applause and praise, and the champagne. A lot of it. Fighting back a wave of nausea, Ida swore solemnly to herself that she would never drink again. This time, she meant it. As began dozing off again, someone's face flashed in her mind and her eyes shot open. Katarina Henderson –or von Bremen, as she had first known her, a lifetime ago. Elisabeth's dearest friend, and much, much, more. The one who had ruined her sister's life, almost beyond repair. Ida attempted to sit upright, finally overcome with vivid memories of what exactly had happened the night before.
As the terrible realisation of whom was walking towards her and, more alarmingly, her sister downed on her, Ida barely had a second to think before she threw herself body and soul against the door, slamming it shut in the process.
"Ida! Are you out of your mind?" Elisabeth gasped.
"Sorry darlings, but you can't see me like this," Ida yelled through the door, ignoring her sister altogether. "I need to powder my nose, arrange my hair… You know how it is. Please wait for me in the ball room, I'll only be a minute."
She could not make out any clear answer but she assumed after a moment that the Hendersons had done just as they were told, and that the coast was clear. She turned to face Elisabeth and Manuela, a look of triumph on her face.
"Right, you two… You need to go!" she commanded without further ado.
"Good grief! A minute ago you were begging us to stay and now you're throwing us away?" Manuela huffed.
Ida bit her lip, considering her next move with great care.
"Manuela, have you seen yourself? It was all fine in the darkness where no one could see you, but I can't be seen with you hovering around me all evening looking like a street urchin! I have a reputation to uphold."
Manuela's eyebrows rose comically.
"You little… I look fine! Don't I?" Manuela turned to Elisabeth, who simply tilted her head to the side, a sign that she was both endeared, and infuriatingly so, in agreement with her sister.
"Or maybe you want to spend the evening with a certain married gentleman, and no longer require our company," Manuela accused.
"Yes, yes, whatever you say. Now, get out of here!"
Again, Manuela turned to Elisabeth for support. "Your sister is very rude."
"Possibly the understatement of the year. Enjoy your evening, Ida. I will go hide my repulsive wife away from the gentry's sensitive eyes," Elisabeth chuckled, and dragged Manuela away by the hand, all too happy to be exempted from mingling with the upper class tonight.
With the two women finally gone, Ida let out a sigh of relief. This had been easier than expected, she thought, pleased with her astonishing negotiation skills. Now, she had Katarina to deal with, and she would need to use her natural charm to find out about the woman's hidden agenda. She glanced at herself in the mirror, deciding that her nose definitely did not need any powdering and her hair did not need any fixing, and she left the room, fully confident in her ability to manage the situation. Stepping into the ballroom, she extended her arms in the most pompous way, revelling in the cheers and claps she was welcomed with. Well, the people loved her, there was no need for modesty.
"Finally. We almost thought you were avoiding us," a voice commented in her ear.
She was not surprised to come face to face with Doug, who was sporting a dazzling smile and holding a flute of champagne that he immediately pushed towards her.
"You were amazing, dear, as always," Katarina praised, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. She was smiling as well, but it was almost feral.
For all her former confidence, Ida suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable standing so close to the woman whose identity she had only just figured out. She studied the proud features, and willed her own smile not to falter. How had she not recognised her the first few times? It might have been over twenty years since she'd last seen her, but the glimmer of mischief in the woman's emerald eyes was unmistakably recognizable.
"Look at that. I'm almost out of champagne. I will be right back, ladies," Douglas said and just like that, the two women were left alone.
Ida looked around anxiously, and pretended to wave at someone, desperate to avoid Katarina's burning gaze.
"Are you nervous?"
"Am I? Why- no! Are you?" Ida stammered
"No," the redheaded woman chuckled.
Ida attempted to laugh along, but it came out as a strangled cry. She needed to refocus and regain control of the situation, with calm and subtlety. She could do this.
"I hope we did not interrupt anything, earlier. You seemed to be in good company."
Taken aback, Ida did the only thing that made sense to her at the moment. She downed her flute of champagne in one gulp, and narrowed her eyes threateningly.
"I know who you are!" she blurted. So much for subtlety.
She expected denial or outrage, but certainly not for the woman's grin to spread even wider.
"Good, then. I was beginning to think I would need to spell it out for you."
"What do you want from me?"
"From you? Nothing," she affirmed, and she sounded almost convincing.
"Then why are you here? What is the meaning of this?"
"I know this might sound peculiar, if not inconceivable, but our meeting is naught but a sheer coincidence. I was just as surprised as you are now when I realised who you were."
"You knew who I was from that very first day?" Ida asked, still suspicious.
For a second, Ida thought she saw something akin to nostalgia pass on the woman's face, but before she had time to ponder on it, the presumptuous smirk was back into place.
"You do take after your sister a lot…"
"S-stay away from my sister," Ida stammered, once again overwhelmed with panic. "You've done enough damage already."
Katarina had the elegance to look ashamed, and took a careful sip of her champagne.
"I don't wish her any harm. I never did," she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
"So you'll stay away from her?" Ida repeated, in desperate need of a confirmation.
"We're going back to London in two days. For ever, as far as I am concerned. I have seen enough of this country," the woman assured. "You don't have to worry about me."
"Good –yes, this is for the best…"
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them and Ida eyed the crowd with unhindered impatience. Where on Earth had Douglas disappeared to? And what of Romberg? Was he so busy playing to the gallery that he could not spare a minute to save her from this predicament?
"This young comedian. Manuela, was it?"
Ida's head turned so sharply that her neck almost snapped. "What about her?"
"She's her lover, right?"
The singer could simply stare wide-eyed at the woman in front of her. She had some nerve.
"Again, I have no intention of causing trouble. I saw them walking down the stairs and they seemed rather… intimate."
Ida pursed her lips. Letting Katarina know of Elisabeth's happiness, in spite of all the trouble she had caused her, seemed like an interesting form of revenge and suddenly sounded very enticing. After all, the woman would be leaving for good in a few days. What was the worst that could happen?
"You're right. She is," Ida let out smugly.
"I see…" For a moment, Katarina seemed almost nauseous. "She's lovely. Elisabeth has always been a woman of taste."
This was the moment Douglas chose to materialise in front of them, carefully balancing not one but three bottles of champagne in his arms.
"Ah there you are," Katarina said, forcing a smile. "You certainly took your sweet time."
"I'm sorry, darling. It took forever to get my hands on these," he said, nodding at the bottles he was cradling. "And now, let the good times roll."
What had happened after that was still a bit hazy, but she remembered Katarina carefully avoiding mentioning Elisabeth any further for the rest of the evening, instead focusing all her intention on Manuela. Douglas had remained exceptionally quiet, looking between the two women with an air of mysterious interest and ensuring their glasses were never empty. Ida had been determined to remain intentionally vague when answering Katarina's increasingly more specific questions about her sister-in-law, but her initial vigilance had worn off under the effect of champagne. Thinking back, now, she could not affirm that she had not provided Katarina with a detailed inventory of Manuela's life, from early childhood to the present day. Lying in bed and left to deal with only the ugliest consequences of alcohol, Ida could not help but think that she should have been a bit less generous in her tales. She turned on her side and wondered if what had happened last night was something she ought to notify Elisabeth. If Katarina ever decided to get in touch with her, the fallout could be terrible. But her sister had to deal with her own struggles at the moment, and the other woman was leaving the country for good. Nodding to herself, she came to the decision that worrying her sister any further was out of the question. She had managed to avoid the worst and Katarina would soon be a distant memory, as she ought to be. Reclining back in her bed, still in pain but extremely satisfied with herself, Ida willed herself back to sleep, happy to never think of Katarina von Bremen ever again.
