Chapter 17: A Most Accomplished Wife

January 1835

The same group of people met again on New Year’s Day, for a reception at the Palais of the Austrian envoy, the Archduke Josef. Small, rotund, and with an impressive beard, the Archduke was universally regarded as the most sociable of the entire diplomatic corps in Munich. Ellen and Richard had sat with him during a few evenings at the Oktoberfest, and they had found him most entertaining. He was a widower, but a steady string of ‘actresses’ helped him to console himself.

His latest conquest was an actress from Louisiana, a Quarterone of most exquisite beauty, whom he had discovered during a visit to Paris, and whom he had persuaded to share his palace for a season or two.

Of course, for many in Munich’s society, this was scandalous, but the Archduke was not disconcerted by the gossip. He was a close cousin to the Austrian King and German Emperor, fourth in the line of succession, a Knight of the Golden Fleece, and not even the Bishop dared to reprimand him.

Isabelle Delatour, the actress, was a most delightful person, Ellen found, and she enjoyed seeing her again. Ellen was decidedly tired, after the ball at the Palace and the subsequent romp with Richard, but she found the atmosphere at the reception stimulating enough.

Marie and Lucien de Perigneaux were late, and when they arrived, Ellen could not help but sense some discord between her friends. It was not much, but Marie’s smile seemed forced, and Lucien’s shoulders were tense, even when he greeted Ellen and Richard.

Ellen had no opportunity, though, to ask Marie about the trouble she perceived. There were just too many people at the matinee, and most of the time, Isabelle Delatour laid a claim on Ellen.

The King made a late entrance, too, and he excused the Queen Therese who was, as it seemed, suffering from the after effects of wine and champagne. Ludwig seemed somewhat ruffled himself, although his mood belied that. He was ever courteous to the ladies, and he spent a few minutes with each of the assembled guests.

Ellen did not speak privately with Marie until the next afternoon when she visited her cousin to return the red peasant girl dress. Marie received her, and they had tea together. Lucien was absent, Ellen was told, and she grabbed the opportunity.

“Is something wrong, Marie?” she asked, inflecting honest concern in her voice.

“What makes you ask that, my dear Ellen?” Marie answered with faux cheerfulness.

“I have come to know you, Marie,” Ellen returned. “I could sense tension between you and Lucien, yesterday. I hope you did not quarrel on behalf of our little jest?”

“No, no, it was not about zat. ‘e... ‘e was gone ze ‘ole night again.”

“Oh ... I didn’t know ... How could I know...” Ellen blushed. “You don’t mean Lucien sees another woman?”

Marie smiled bitterly.

“No. Not a woman.”

“Then what ... Oh!”

Ellen understood, but she was shocked. Lucien? He did not fit her preconceived ideas of a ‘confirmed bachelor’.

“Yes, for a while I ‘oped ‘e would change,” Marie said wistfully. “‘e can’t, zough.”

“Oh, Marie, is that why you have no children? You must...”

“Oh yes. Children. Zat ‘ope died a long time ago. I should not complain too much. I owe ‘im a lot.”

“But you miss out on love, Marie! You miss out on all the wonderful things that...” Ellen faltered, not certain she should give away any intimate details of her and Richard’s lovemaking.

“Do you really believe in love, Ellen?” Marie asked, her eyebrow arched in mock surprise.

“Indeed I do!” Ellen replied with conviction. “I experience it every day. Before you make fun of my naivety, I know the sorry state many marriages are in. That should not stop women and men to aim higher, though.”

Marie shook her head.

“‘O says I did not aim ‘igher, ma cher?”

Ellen shook her head, chagrined.

“You are right, Marie, forgive my prying. My stepmother told me the same, a year ago. She thinks that because I feel happy, I want everybody around me to feel happy, too, regardless of whether they have the potential.”

“Zat is what I love about you, Ellen! You see your good fortune as obligation to make ozzer people’s lives better. But you must accept zat zis will not always be possible.”

Marie got up from her chair and pulled Ellen up to a standing position. Holding both of Ellen’s hands, she looked deep into her cousin’s eyes.

“Ellen, we’ve known each ozzer only for a few monz. Yet, you are closer to me zan anybody else. Closer zan my family, closer zan ... Anyway, I zank ze fate for bring us togezzer.”

Ellen smiled at her cousin.

“Marie, I feel the same. Well, not quite, forgive me. With Richard, it’s more and deeper. You are my only family though. I love Richard’s sister, and I admire his mother and his grandmother. I feel deep love for my stepparents. With you, however, it’s different. You are the link to my roots. Do I make sense?”

“Perfectly,” Marie said, and she planted a feather-light kiss on Ellen’s lips.

The ball season in Munich went on for the entire January and February. This was Carnival, and many costume balls were to attend. At a certain point, the novelty was gone, and attendance became a chore.

Richard was feeling the strain, too. During daytime, he was involved in a four way diplomacy, involving Austria and Bavaria, on one side, and Prussia and the British on the other side. Prussia vied for dominance in Germany, opposed by the Catholic League, led by Austria. France, too, was trying to meddle, increasingly supporting the Holy Alliance.

When the Carnival season ended, both Richard and Ellen felt relief. Of course, the beginning of lent was celebrated with just another beer festival, a strong ale festival. The Catholic monks had long found out that fasting was less taxing when the drink consumed was a nourishing beer with a bit more intoxicating power. Hence, the Starkbier was created to help the faithful over the lent, lest they suffered weight loss.

The Carters’ household more or less obeyed the ban on meat, greatly aided by Neeta’s recipes of spicy vegetable dishes from her Bengali home. It was a welcome change after months of overeating at the various festivities.

For Richard, things were easier, too, for King Ludwig left Munich for Italy where he doubtlessly reacquainted himself with his Duchesa. Before the King left, Richard had good news for his royal host. Stephenson had agreed to deliver a steam locomotive for the planned railroad between Nuremberg and Fuerth. This meant that the plans could be put into execution, and His Majesty was overjoyed.

During the week of Good Friday, all public life in Munich came to a halt. The Carters and their friends stayed at home, for the most parts, and waited impatiently for Easter Sunday. With the Easter celebrations, winter ended officially, and the people, commoners and noble persons, once again mingled in the streets and in the parks.

Richard had organised a brief getaway for his family and their friends. The Count Hohenstedt had offered his hunting cabin in the foothills of the Alps, south of Rosenheim. The air was still cold at night, but during the day, the sun was strong enough to melt the last remnants of the snow. The hunting cabin was a solidly built log house, two storeys high, and built around a huge masonry stove. The interior was made of fir wood, and the upstairs sleeping chambers were small and low. The Carters liked it anyway.

For Little Anthony, this was heaven. The boy was over four years old now, and he loved to watch the animals, mostly cows, on the pastures that surrounded the cabin. The family spent many hours climbing the surrounding hills, and Anthony was always ahead of them, accompanied by Dicky. Inevitably, on the return trip, Richard would have to carry the boy part of the distance.

The cabin was kept by a housekeeper, a kind, elderly matron who fussed over the pregnant Maddalena as if she were the grandmother of the child. A girl from the village nearby, a skinny, blond waif of perhaps fourteen years who went by the name Evi, helped her in the mornings, cleaning the chambers and doing the laundry. The girl always disappeared before noon, running back to the village on her thin legs.

After a few days, whilst the family was sitting at lunch, Ellen noticed something peculiar. Sadie was obviously stashing away bread and pieces of roast pork into the folds of her skirt. Ellen was mildly surprised. This was not how she knew Sadie. Ellen prided herself on being a caring mistress for her staff, and Sadie never went hungry.

After lunch, the family rested. To her surprise, Ellen saw that Sadie left the cabin by the back door and walked briskly in the direction of the village. A short whistle brought Dicky to her side, and Ellen followed Sadie at some distance, curious of what she might find out.

Out of necessity, Ellen stayed at the fringes of the forest, to conceal herself, and Sadie put a little distance between them. Undauntedly, Ellen broke into a short run, followed by an overjoyed Dicky who found this a great fun. The run brought Ellen closer to the briskly walking Sadie, and she could see now that Sadie was scanning the area in front of her. Obviously, she saw what she was looking for and waved with her arms.

Ellen moved into the shadows of the trees and watched. It was only a few minutes later, when she saw the blonde waif appear. Comprehension dawned on Ellen. Sadie was smuggling food to the girl. She sighed with relief. There was no need now to admonish Sadie.

Ellen sat on a log and continued to watch. She could see that the girl wolfed down the food Sadie had brought. Then she pressed Sadie’s hand briefly and ran away again. Sadie began to walk back in the direction of the cabin when she noticed first Dicky, who was lying in the middle of the path, and then Ellen. She gave a visible start, before she approached Ellen with obvious trepidation. Ellen watched her with a friendly smile.

“You should have told me, Sadie,” she admonished Sadie mildly, when she stood before Ellen. “Isn’t she getting food in the kitchen?”

“I’m sorry, M’lady,” Sadie said, her head bowed. “She’s so skinny, and she works all day, and they don’t give her enough food. I’ll repay you for the food I took.”

“Shush! Not a word of that!” Ellen expostulated. “I should have seen this myself. Isn’t she getting food in the kitchen?”

“No, M’lady. She works for money, and the money goes to the farmer where she lives. The housekeeper is afraid to give her food, for fear you’ll accuse her of theft.”