Chapter Five
Versuchs Doch Mein Liebling!
"Versuchs doch mein Liebling!" she said crisply.
Mary shot an astonished glance at Sybil. Neither of them had known Edith spoke German but then, was that really that surprising? With first Sybil, and then Mary, both married, and with an increasing clutch of children between them, since the early 20s, with Sybil and Tom over in Ireland, and with Matthew and Mary taking an ever greater part in the running of the Downton Abbey estate, Edith had chosen, or so it seemed, much to the dismay of both her parents, to spend less and less time in England.
Although she had flown back to England from Cairo for Robert's funeral, at the time, Edith had seemed distracted, pre-occupied with something, although, at the time, Cora had said it was simply grief at losing her beloved father.
But then, last Christmas, while all the rest of them were out at a shoot, even Tom, who watched from the sidelines without participating, Edith had taken it upon herself to depart Downton without such much as a word, apparently all on the strength of an unexpected telephone call which she had received at the abbey.
When they returned to the house late in the day, to find Edith had gone, no-one knew quite what to think, and, understandably, Cora had been most dreadfully upset, even more so, when in the New Year of 1932, Edith had made excuse after excuse as to why she could not possibly get over to England for the foreseeable future, which was one of the reasons why Cora, with all the rest of the family embarking on their trip to Italy, had been so easily persuaded to sail for America on board the Majestic.
Edith now whispered something else, also in German, to the sandy haired, blue eyed young boy, who in turn nodded curtly, and, as he did so, glanced shyly backwards over his left shoulder, seemingly seeking some kind of reassurance from Edith for whatever it was that was about to happen. Edith smiled and nodded her head in encouragement.
"Versuchs doch!" she repeated softly.
So now, with his back to her, standing ramrod straight in front of the five of them, Max clicked his heels smartly together and bowed gravely to them all from the waist, first to Matthew, and then to Mary, murmuring Graf and then Gräfin to them in turn, before shaking Matthew firmly by the hand and then, taking Mary's proffered right hand in his own, giving her a perfect baisse-main without any trace of embarrassment whatsoever.
The young boy straightened up, and then inclined his head smartly first to Tom, to whom he referred equally politely as Herr Branson before shaking him just as firmly by the hand as he had done Matthew, and then nodded to Sybil, whom he called Frau Branson, and to whom he also gave a baisse-main. These pleasantries now completed, smiling broadly, the boy took a couple of steps backwards, bowed once again, and then moved to stand next Edith who smiled at him, gently squeezed and patted his upper left arm in reassurance. It was obvious to them all, that the boy had been in some kind of minor accident, probably a fall, as, although they were much faded, bruises could be seen on both his right knee and also on his right elbow.
During the whole of this performance, there really was no other word to describe what had just taken place, several times, Sybil's eyes had darted slowly from Edith to the boy and then back again. At the same time, she felt Tom's fingers interlace with her own, gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and knew intuitively that he was seeing what she was seeing, was thinking what she herself was thinking, It fell however, to Mary to ask the obvious question, although if any of them cared to look, the facial resemblance was so striking that no explanation as to the young boy's identity was really necessary. But ask for it, Mary now did.
"And just who,exactly, is Max?" asked Mary coolly, looking fixedly first at the boy and then back at her younger sister. With realisation suddenly dawning upon her, Mary gasped, believing that, like Sybil, she knew what Edith's answer would be.
"Max is my son" said Edith softly, instinctively slipping her arm protectively around the young boy's shoulders, standing her ground defiantly, her eyes flicking back and forth from Mary to Sybil daring them to judge her, trying to gauge their reaction to her startling news. After all, she thought defiantly, one had had a fling with a Turkish diplomat before she was married, and the other had run off with the family chauffeur. Who were they, either of them, if they so chose, to now stand in judgement on her?
"And his father?"
The peremptory tone of Mary's question, let alone the impertinence of it, along with the lightning speed with which it was posed cut into Edith's reverie, caused Sybil to audibly gasp in amazement. However for her part, and full credit to her thought Sybil, Edith kept her composure, and replied levelly to her elder sister without any trace of embarrassment.
"Max's father is Friedrich von Schönborn, an Austrian archaeologist with the Archaeological Institute in Vienna. We met in 1922, in Cairo. And we've worked together on excavations several times, both in Egypt and the Near East".
"Obviously" said Mary wryly, her raised eyebrows silently suggesting just what work she thought Edith and her Austrian lover had been engaged upon. "So the boy is ten then?" she asked dispassionately.
The inference was equally clear; that Edith had leapt into bed with her Austrian lover at the first opportunity that had presented itself. Sybil saw Matthew wince at the directness both of his wife's line of questioning and the obvious insinuation.
"Actually Mary, "the boy" as you choose to call him, is nine years old. And your nephew has a name. He's called Max, in case you've forgotten. And also, before I answer any more of your questions, impertinent or otherwise, I have the beginnings of an awful headache. Do you mind if we all sit down?" asked Edith.
"No, not at all" said Mary. Her eyes narrowed. She did not take kindly to being reprimanded, especially not in public.
They all took seats on the benches in the lofty ceilinged waiting room, young Max sitting next to his mother, their hands clasped together on the boy's knee, and waited patiently for Edith to continue with her explanation.
"Perhaps Max should wait outside, with his cousins while..." began Matthew. He smiled gently at Edith.
"Thank you Matthew, that's very kind of you, but that won't be necessary". Edith shot her English brother-in-law a radiant smile.
"And?" asked Mary, inclining her head and raising an inquisitive exquisitely manicured eyebrow.
"I know what you're thinking Mary" said Edith.
"And what, pray, is that?"
"That Friedrich is married..."
"Well, you certainly aren't!" snapped Mary looking pointedly at the bare ring finger of her sister's left hand.
"No, I'm not, and neither, Mary, as it happens, is Friedrich. He's a widower. Like Lavinia, his wife died in the 'flu epidemic at the end of the war. They'd been married scarcely a year".
"How convenient for you" observed Mary dryly.
Edith flushed red, but ignoring Mary's stinging observation, she chose instead to direct her next remark to her Irish brother-in-law.
"I think you will understand this Tom, better than anyone else here".
Tom looked up, and then slowly nodded his acquiescence.
"I think I do. This chap's family? Am I right in thinking, Edith, that, they're Catholic?" he asked, more by way of a statement than a question.
"How ever did you know that?" asked Sybil.
"Like Ireland, darlin', Austria is predominantly a Catholic country. It stands to reason I think".
Edith nodded.
"Yes, you're right, Tom. And not only that, but the Schönborns are one of the oldest aristocratic families in Austria. I'm sorry to have to say this Matthew, but compared to Friedrich's family, the earls of Grantham are parvenus".
Tom chuckled and Matthew smiled, both of them wondering independently of each other just how their decidedly aristocratic late father-in-law would have reacted to being called a parvenu.
"Oh, don't mind me, Edith. I'm only middle class anyway!" laughed Matthew.
"And o'im only a t'ick Oirish Mick!" chuckled Tom lapsing into the broadest Irish brogue he could muster.
At this point in the proceedings, the countess of Grantham shot her husband and brother-in-law a haughty, withering look. Much as she loved them both, in Mary's considered opinion, disparaging the noble lineage of the Crawleys was not to be borne, and that, she thought grimly, was something that, as head of the family, Matthew especially should have realised. After all, it was their eldest son's birthright they were talking about, and neither was it a time for levity - of any kind. Thank goodness that granny and Papa had not lived to see this day. And, God knew what Mama would have to say when she got to hear about it!
"It's ironic isn't it?" observed Edith.
"What is?" asked Mary coldly. She was not in the mood for her younger sister's non sequiturs either.
"All those years ago, dearest Papa making such a fuss about Sybil marrying darling Tom, at least in part because he was Catholic".
"That wasn't the real reason, as well you know!" said Mary acidly.
"Mary please!" exclaimed Sybil.
"It's all right, darlin'. We all know what the feckin reason was. I was the bloody chauffeur and dear old Robert, God rest his soul, didn't think I was good enough to marry darling Sybil! In fact, at the time, none of you did!" Tom chuckled.
Sybil grimaced, gave Tom a wry look, realising that even now, after all this time, after all that they had both achieved together, not least being the parents of three happy, healthy, intelligent children, and with Tom now the deputy editor of Ireland's largest selling newspaper, the initial reaction of her family all those years ago to their engagement and subsequent marriage still rankled with her husband. There were, it seemed, some things that the passage of time could never heal.
"And so now, here I find myself almost in the very same position as darling Tom, but in my case for not being Catholic and not being nearly noble enough for Friedrich to be permitted to marry me, even though he wants to, has suggested we go through a civil ceremony instead. Not that it would be recognised by either his family or the Catholic Church" concluded Edith lamely, resting her hands together in her lap. She looked down at the floor, seemingly lost in thought.
"So why tell us this now, why not before?" asked Mary. "Was it to spare Granny's and Papa's feelings?"
"Perhaps. At least in part, but no, not really" said Edith softly.
"Then what really?" persisted Mary.
"Because of what's now happening in Austria. If anything... should happen... to Friedrich or to me".
"And what do you mean by that? What's happening in Austria?" Mary glanced up at Matthew, pleading silently at him with her eyes for some form of enlightenment. After all, he was always so well informed when it came to such matters.
Matthew nodded at Mary, saw her relax somewhat.
"I take it... that Max's father isn't too enamoured of the present political situation in Austria then?" asked Matthew coolly. Tom was impressed; gave Matthew full marks for his knowledge of the worsening political situation here in Europe.
Edith raised her head and looked squarely at Matthew.
"No, he isn't and there are many others in Austria just like him. Like both of us in fact. Friedrich is certain that now President Miklas has appointed him Chancellor, Dolfuss is aiming at a dictatorship. Much as Friedrich hates the National Socialists who want closer ties with Germany and their leader Hitler, Friedrich loathes Dolfuss even more! He's been very vocal in his opposition of what's happened to democracy in Austria already and what may still happen in the immediate future".
Matthew nodded.
"Yes, I don't suppose Dolfuss and his thugs take kindly to criticism, do they?" he asked softly.
Edith shook her head sadly.
"No, they don't. Friedrich has received several pointed "warnings" to desist. But that won't silence him. He's very much like you in that regard, darling Tom".
Her brother-in-law smiled, nodded his head. For all the nonsense about his noble ancestry, Tom was beginning to like the sound of Friedrich von Schönborn.
"And there's something else, which I haven't yet told you".
"Indeed?" Mary's ever expressive eyebrows rose several inches upwards.
Ignoring her sister's sarcasm, Edith turned instead to both Tom and Matthew.
"If you two don't mind, it's something which I would prefer to share first with Mary and Sybil".
"No, of course not" said Tom standing up. Winking at Max, gently Tom took Edith's hands in his own and looked thoughtfully down at her. "Just remember though what your grandmother once told me, in fact, it was on the night before Mary and Matthew were married".
"What was that?" asked Edith searching his dearly loved face.
"That we're all family, and whether it be the Bransons or the Crawleys, we stick together!"
"God bless you, darling Tom!" whispered Edith, as her brother-in-law now bent forward and placed a very tender kiss upon her cheek.
"I suggest" said Matthew breezily, now likewise standing up, "that this might be an opportune moment to take Danny and Robert down to see that engine. Otherwise, we'll never hear the end of it if we don't. Perhaps young Max might like to come too?"
"Thank you Matthew, but I think he'd better stay here with me, at least for the time being" said Edith.
"Whatever you wish. We'll see you all later then. We'll be back before the train leaves".
"Of course you will" said Mary. She smiled a thin smile. "If not, it's rather a long walk for you all to Florence!"
Author's note:
Engelbert Dolfuss (1892-1934) was Chancellor of Austria 1932-34. In an attempt to stop German Nazi influence in Austria, he shut down the Austrian parliament, banned the Austrian Nazi party, later suppressed the Socialist movement, and then all other political parties too, except for his own - the Christian Social Party. He was assassinated by German Nazi agents.
Wilhelm Miklas (1872-1956) was an Austrian politician, who served as President of Austria from 1928 until the German Anschluss (annexation) of the country in 1938.