Chapter Thirteen: Father
Therese
It is nearly noon, and I volunteer to go get Herr Dirnegg for his lunch. He sits in his room near the fireplace. Entering, his eyes are closed and on his bed sits Astrid. She leans against the footboard listening to him talk to her. His baritone is a smooth sound against the crackle of the fireplace.
He smiles and invites me in, switching to French so that I can understand him. I ask if he wishes to go to the dinning room or if I should bring a tray to him. "I shall join the others at table," he tells me. Walking towards the door he lays a hand on Astrid's shoulder, speaking to her in his guttural Austrian. She glances at me and nods. He retires, closing the door softly behind him.
"Astrid," I sit near her, "why did you give me that piece of paper?"
She reaches up and coils a finger in a curl of her dark hair. Refusing to look at me she mumbles, "I have a new Father now. I don't need my old Father."
"What do you mean, Astrid? Who is Father?"
She seems to shrink in on herself. Her voice is tremulous, "Victor was my Father."
I am disgusted to think of Victor telling her he is her Father, unless he was trying to explain her creation to her. I cannot imagine why he would try. Her childish prattle might reveal their secret. I wish Thomas was here with me, or failing that even Michael. I am not sure what she is implying. "Victor was Father? Did he tell you he was your father?"
The crescent of a smile appears on her face. "No, Therese," she exaggerates her words like a child. She twirls her hand in the folds of her skirt. "Father comes in the night for me. Father always tucks me in and kisses Astrid goodnight."
I wonder if this is some childish fantasy she has created, but something presses at the back of my mind. I played as a child with one of the neighbor children who told me her Father gave her kisses. As we aged, the girl was sent away. The old wives in the village said she was carrying her Father's get. I did not understand until I was older that they meant her father had gotten her pregnant.
A wave of pity fills me as I look at her. This must be a memory from her life. Is that why Victor moved into her bed with such ease, because she had grown to a woman whose own father had used her body?
I reach in my apron for my handkerchief; my eyes are threatening to spill over with tears. The life of a woman is hard to endure. The years age us quickly through toil and childbirth. We have little recourse in life be to leave our families and marry, submitting our lives to the man we wed. Our shoulders grow stooped by the weight of strife and death. Astrid's perfect face and her pretty gowns were all I saw when I looked upon her. My envy turned her into a useless and frivolous woman, when my eyes should have seen another of my kind who was a prisoner to the whims of the world around her.
Whoever her Father was, I hope his soul burns in hell. His peers might have seen a man of moral fiber and sound judgment. His daughter saw him as a shadowy shape stealing into her bed, telling her to be a good little girl for Father.
I blow my nose and smile at her, "I'm so glad you have a new Father."
She shakes her head and says 'no' as she always does, then shyly smiles at me and hugs me.
"Do you know who Sebastian is?"
She shakes her head again, but this time does not refute her answer, so she must not know. "Did someone give you that piece of paper Astrid? The one you put in my apron pocket?"
She screws up her mouth, and looks at me sidelong. "Ask Father."
I prompt her to continue to talk to me, but she withdraws into her own world. I suddenly feel frustrated. Which Father? Victor? I cannot ask him-he has no reason to point out who Michael was. Indeed, such a revelation might have condemned him to death if Michael had not come back to himself at my prompting. But, she does say she has a new Father.
I wait with Astrid until the Herr returns. He seats himself before the fire again, bestowing a gentle smile on Astrid as he passes. Astrid gives my shoulder a pat, "Therese wants to know about the paper."
Herr Dirnegg looks at her, "Go watch the hall. We don't want ears to hear the story, Astrid." She rises gracefully from the bed and cracks the door open, keeping watch.
I turn to the Herr, and he waves me towards the foot of the bed. Sitting in Astrid's place, I listen to the story.
Michael
I moved from the Abbey to the stables, and on to the small washing hut. Listening to the idle talk that fills people's days, I wonder why I desire so badly to be part of their world. If it is not a wife complaining of a husband, it is a servant disparaging a master.
I listen for snippets of information about the goings on in the village. Any new visitors passing through might indicate men Victor has sent for. What I get for my efforts is nothing more than a few hours of watching my warm breath stream in the winter air and a cold backside from sitting next to the building.
The women leave the washing hut, cackling like chickens with their baskets loaded with linens, their feet crunching in the snow. I slip towards the forest using all the noise they are making to cover my retreat.
Stalking through the dense undergrowth around the old giant trees, I return to a spot where a stump had fallen over, creating a den under its gnarled roots. Places like this are where I have hidden things. If I am to spirit away Therese, time will be our enemy. I need to gather what items I can that we can carry easily.
There is a cave in the glacier on the mountain side that I could take her to. It is well hidden so that we could burn a fire without fear of being revealed. But I worry that she is not as robust as I am. I left some furs behind there in case I might need them when I returned. Also a coat I made from stolen blankets. Some nights I would sit in the cold and wonder what one of the villagers would think of a giant foraging the land in what might have been the blanket from their bed. What a ridiculous figure I would have presented.
Victor has never been up the mountainside. Few of the village people do. There are farmers who live up in the high pastures who work to keep the passes clear for the use of travelers and traders. Avalanches and ice falls are always a fear. There is also the superstitious belief that spirits and demons live near the high mountain tops. To anger the demons is to temp disaster. For six years I have been the only demon they have needed to fear.
Victor
I did not get a chance to talk to Therese last night. As I hear it now, Thomas has purchased passage by train on the twelfth of December. That only gives me two weeks.
I return to my home at lunch time. The children are busy chatting and eating their food while the cook starts preparing baking apples with cinnamon and butter. Glancing in the sitting room, I only find the wet nurse with the baby. "Where is my wife?"
The woman glances up from some sewing she has brought with her. "I don't know, sir. I thought she was eating with the children."
I feel the world falling away, her voice growing distant. My God. That devil has taken her already. I search the rooms once again, checking the conservatory and stopping people in the halls. Glancing outside, I see foot prints towards the stable and go out.
Heedless of the freezing air I question the stable hands. None of them have seen her. I can think of only one person who might know. Turning back to the sanitarium, I search for Therese.
Therese
Astrid quickly closes the door, speaking in Austrain to the Herr. His eyes bore into mine. As a knock sounds sharply against the door, Astrid opens it.
Victor steps in. "I must apologize for this intrusion, Herr Dirnegg, but I have something for Therese to do." He glances at me intently. His eyes dare me to refute his wishes.
"Yes, sir," I reply keeping my tone businesslike. "Thank you so much for the conversation, Herr Dirnegg." I smile at him as I turn away. Victor is by the door. I can see his knuckles are white on the doorknob.
I step smartly through the open portal, hoping to keep a distance from him, but he grabs my elbow and steers me down the hall. Muttering under his breath, I catch bits of curses from him. I fear something has happened.
He flings open the door to the north room, pushing me inside and locking it behind him. "Where is she?"
"Who?"
"Elisabeth," he grinds out. "He's taken her hasn't he?" He grabs my arm, his strength driven by his fear he is hurting me. I clamp my mouth shut rather than cry out. "Where is she?" He shouts in my face.
"Victor, he hasn't taken her. She has to be here somewhere." I keep my voice level, my eyes blank. I have not seen him this upset before.
"Why are you so sure he hasn't taken her?" He looks at me and drops my arm like it has burned his hand. "You've accepted him haven't you?" He steps back looking at me, his revulsion etched in the set of his mouth.
"Yes, Victor, I have."
"How could you?" He looks at me as if I told him I was betraying him.
"He only wants what any human being wants."
"He isn't human!"
I flinch at his shout, and cast a glance at the door. "Not here, Victor. You don't want everyone to know do you?"
His shoulders relax, but he looks down his nose at me. "I thought you had better sense than to let that vile wretch near you. Has he bedded you yet?" He makes a disgusted noise, "Never mind. I can get rid of anything he impregnates you with."
I remember this morning, Michael's hand on my stomach. Did he know that he might be able to father a child? I stupidly realize that that was the last thought in my mind. I only knew that I wanted to love him and keep him with me. I am oddly filled with a sense of peace.
"Victor," I hear my level voice, "if you touch me I'll kill you." My words bring him up short, surprise registers on his face. "Isn't this what you wanted? To provide him with a mate and have us leave you in peace?"
His eyes seem to glaze. He looks through me as he replies, "Yes. I did didn't I?"
He is between me and the door, this doesn't make me comfortable even with this change in his demeanor. "We'll leave soon. It will be all over for you."
"All over." He seems on the verge of being overcome by this.
"Come on. I'll help you find Elisabeth."
He backs towards the door, pulling the key out of his vest.
Victor
I find her at last. "Elisabeth, where were you at noon?"
Her brows knit as she looks at me, "I went to the kitchens, and to check on Albert, and then I went to drop off a dress at Therese's room, but she wasn't there. She must have been with one of the patients." Her beautiful eyes smile at me.
I wish I had never gone to the university. I wish I would have listened to my professors. If I had I would not have put her in this danger. "I love you." I pull her into my arms, her softness, my sanctuary. "Come to bed with me."
"It's still early. The children have just finished their dinner."
"The nurse will take care of them." My temper flares. It has been a month since Albert's birth. We should be able to resume our lovemaking. "Unless you are too busy for your husband."
The smile leaves her eyes. "I'm not the one who leaves in the middle of the night."
"I have trouble sleeping, you know that!" My rest has been elusive since the night that wretch took his first gasping breath.
Would to God I had the strength to smoother him as he lay helpless. My slavish dedication to his birth died as his eyes slitted open. Those empty spheres turned in my direction as I staggered back from the table. My hand scrambled behind me, the lever, the lever would allow the next bolt to strike him again. The power of the electrical storm would seer his brain and heart; he'd expire swiftly as his organs would burst from the heat built by the lightning strike. But I didn't reach it. With a sudden jerk his arm was free of the restraints, the eyes drank me in. He turned on the table, the contact between us a lure for him to reach for.
I fled; a headlong mad rush away from him. I'd been running ever since.
"Victor." She looks at me with disgust. "You don't leave our bed for sleep."
She attempts to turn from me, but I snare her arm and drag her to our bedroom. She is angry with me, and has every right to be. Astrid is nothing to me, only a convenient warm body. It is only Elisabeth that I have ever loved. It is only her that I wish to protect. "Come away with me," I hold her gently, "we'll go to that chalet where we honeymooned. Just you and I."
She seems reticent. "I don't want any more children." She admits.
"I can take care of that, my love." I had hoped she felt that way. Losing her would kill me.
