Manuela tried to stifle another massive yawn and scanned the room, desperate to locate her sister-in-law. Ida had mysteriously disappeared without notice after singing her one and only aria of the evening, leaving Manuela to deal with a bunch of showy old fogeys who wanted to know if she was looking for company. She thought of Elisabeth who was probably asleep by now, and sighed in frustration. Her feet were killing her and even the champagne did little to brighten her mood. A waiter walked past her with a tray full of canapés and she took two without ceremony. If she was going to die from boredom, she might as well do it with her stomach full.
A tap against her shoulder drew her attention, and as she whirled around, she was relieved to see that it was Ida leaning closer to her.
"Where have you been?" she hissed. "It's been hours! I want to go home."
"In a minute. Don't look just yet- I said don't look," Ida hissed, grabbing Manuela's arm to prevent her from turning around. "See the woman in the crimson dress out on the balcony?"
The young actress gave her a dirty look.
"Alright, be discreet then!" Ida rolled her eyes, and released the grip on her arm.
"Hm, what about her?" Manuela asked after a quick glance at the woman in question.
"Have you ever seen her anywhere?"
"Not that I can recall, no. Why?"
"This is Doug's wife."
"Whose wife?"
"Do keep up, please. Douglas Henderson. The deputy…"
"-British ambassador. Right," the young woman finished, unimpressed. "Why should I know her then?"
"She hasn't stopped scrutinizing me all night… I have an awkward sensation."
Manuela just shrugged, seizing another flute of champagne from a nearby tray.
"Weren't you with her husband just now? I really cannot imagine why she could be pissed at you," she exclaimed, pressing a hand to her chest in mock consternation.
"I wasn't with him!" Ida growled, scandalised. "We talked –I talked to a lot of people this evening. You know, actually, you too could have used this opportunity to rub elbows with the top of the crop instead of just standing there like a lemon, stuffing your face with toasts."
"I don't care about rubbing elbows with anybody; my only wish right now is to go home to my wife and take off these shoes."
"How ambitious of you! Anyway this woman... I knew she felt familiar the first time I saw her. I can't manage to replace her, though. But she is not looking at me like a suspecting spouse, it's something else."
"Then what? Probably a mere admirer of your voice. Or your hat."
"You think you're absolutely hilarious, don't you? Oh drat, she's coming towards us!" Ida yelped. From the corner of her eye, she could see the woman steadily walking closer and on impulse, she let her head fall back, laughing as if Manuela had cracked the most comical joke she had heard in years.
"Oh, dear, you are going to be the death of me," she roared, pushing Manuela's shoulder so hard that it almost sent her into a wobble.
"So this is where the life of the party had been hiding all along, and I only find out just now," the mysterious woman said with an amused smile. "Mind if I join in?"
"Please do," Ida agreed a bit too easily.
"Congratulations for the lovely performance, dear. It was enchanting." Then, without waiting for a reply, she turned to Manuela and extended her hand. "I don't think we've been properly introduced. I am Katarina Henderson."
Manuela took the offered hand and gave it a firm shake. From where she was standing, this woman did not appear to be quite as threatening as Ida seemed to think.
"A pleasure, Mrs Henderson. Manuela von Meinhardis."
"And what do you do?"
"Tonight, I am naught but dear Ida's escort. A truly beautiful singer indeed, but who needs to be chaperoned at all times," she stage-whispered, earning a hearty chuckle from the woman.
"Aren't you a delight, Miss von Meinhardis," the woman said, and then looking down at her ring finger, she quickly corrected herself. "Oh, I'm sorry. Mrs… I shouldn't have assumed. Prussian husband?"
Manuela let out a nervous laugh. "Uh yes… Prussian through and through, the both of us."
"And what about you, dear?" the woman asked, her eyes now boring into Ida.
Ida blinked, unsure of what question she was being asked, exactly. "No husband, Prussian or otherwise."
"Hm, a shame," Mrs Henderson said, eyeing her from head to toe with an undecipherable expression.
The air seemed to turn thick with tension, and Manuela decided to cut through it without preamble. The sooner this was settled, the sooner they would leave.
"Actually, Ida was just marvelling at how awfully familiar you looked," she blurted, ignoring her sister-in-law's muffled protest.
"Oh really? If I'm not mistaken, dear, we have already met," the woman drawled, her smile turning a little murderous. "I know I don't have a particularly noteworthy physique –unlike my husband- but I believe our first meeting was a mere couple of months ago, was it not?"
Ida tittered, trying to defuse her growing embarrassment and Manuela nearly snorted as she surveyed the woman closely. She was tall, almost monarchical, maybe only a few years older than Ida. All fiery red hair, and bright emerald eyes, she was extremely beautiful, and very obviously aware of it. Manuela wondered what could be hiding behind this barely concealed hypocrisy, and just like that, she decided that she did not like this woman, not in the least.
"No-yes, of course," Ida stammered in a desperate attempt to save face. "I remember our previous meeting quite well. I might have exchanged a bit more pleasantries with your husband and you and I did not get the chance to talk properly until now…" she stumbled over the words, much to Mrs Henderson's delight. At that moment, it downed on Ida then that she was only digging herself deeper. "At any rate. I was merely suggesting, and this is to be taken with a tiny grain of salt, that you looked familiar from before."
"Is that so? And when would before be?"
"I-I honestly don't know," Ida hesitated. And then, she decided that it was time to stake it all. "You did mention Russia, didn't you?"
"Indeed."
"Well, seeing as I have never been, and I am quite sure that you have not conveniently omitted a letter from your actual country of origin like you could have, in these dark times, I think that I must have mistaken you for someone else."
If Manuela thought the exchange had been cold before, she almost shivered as she stood back and watched the two women appraise each other in silent defiance.
"That settles it, then," the ambassador's wife finally let out with a tight-lipped smile. "I won't take up any more of your time, ladies. It was lovely talking to you, Mrs von Meinhardis. Miss von Bernburg," she said with one last pointed look at Ida, and turned on her heels without another word.
Manuela and Ida both watched the other woman retreat, puzzled but quite frankly pleased to finally be seeing the back of her.
"Darn it. That was uncomfortable," the younger woman cringed.
"And thank you for contributing, dork," Ida snarled, punching Manuela's shoulder not too gently.
"Don't take it out on me. At least now we can leave. I don't think I can stand breathing the same air as these dusty snobs any longer. Please, tell me we're going."
The singer pursed her lips and nodded, to Manuela's relief.
"Fine, let's call it a night. I've had enough as well."
Ida bid farewell to a few people around the room, carefully avoiding the notorious deputy ambassador and his wife and before long, she and Manuela were heading down the reception hall stairs.
"Free at last!" Manuela exhaled as they made their way through the busy Manhattan streets. "I understand why Elisabeth remains carefully away from these events. What a bore! Actually were you –you know, able to talk to her?"
Ida glanced at the young woman who was looking at her with a hopeful smile and she felt her heart break slightly. She tended to forget how young she still was, most of the time, but there were fleeting moments like these where her greenness stood out a mile. It was easy to understand why Elisabeth felt the instinctive need to protect her, even though Manuela would probably despise the idea, if she only knew. Ida threw her arm around her shoulders and drew her closer, considering the best answer she could give without betraying her sister's trust.
"She's still coping, obviously. But she's strong, our Elisabeth. Just give it time, yes?"
"I suppose, yes... I'll be patient. And take good care of her."
Ida could not help but smile fondly at this. She hoped one day someone would love her in the same sickeningly sweet way that Manuela loved her sister-and the other way around.
"So, this Mrs Henderson… A piece of work, right? She turned white as a sheet when you mentioned Prussia. She's no more Russian than you and I."
"Yes, that much is clear," Ida mused. "Would explain where I know her from. A pity I still can't for the life of me remember just who she is."
Manuela made a great show of tapping her chin in reflection. "You'd better mull it over. Because it looks like she, for one, remembers exactly who you are… Ida, it looks like we have a mystery on our hands."
Ida chortled, but still, as they both made their way into the night, she could not shake the feeling of uneasiness that had settled deep within her.