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Authors: Carrie Lofty
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climbed to the second-floor kitchen. The wind shrieked, echoing up the stairwell as if no protective walls separated frail human bodies from the storm. She lifted a hasty prayer for Venner’s safe return. After talking to the cook, she went to find Ingrid.
Another flight up, in the ballroom, half a dozen men from the Venners’ retinue surrounded Oliver. They were busily outfitting themselves with enough supplies to search for their missing master. Torches, ropes, heavy outerwear, and wooden whistles would help protect the volunteers from becoming lost or stranded themselves. The swarming tempest of snow and ice obscured everything outside, and the search would be dangerous.
The alternative, however—leaving Venner to the mercy of the blizzard—was beyond contemplation.
The men dispersed, but Mathilda stalled Oliver’s departure. “Still no word?”
Shaking his head in silent dejection, he cast a glance at the marvelous grandfather clock at the far end of the ballroom. “He was supposed to return this morning.”
“He might not have reached the city boundary yet.”
Oliver yanked a solid knot into a guideline. Dark curls covered the tops of his ears and shook across his forehead. “I should’ve been with him.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” she said. “The trip is simple, one night gone and back again. He asked you to stay, to look after the household.”
“ Ja, because he believes he is invincible.”
Mathilda drew back. She had never seen Oliver angered. That he spoke about Venner with such harsh censure surprised her to silence.
“My apologies, Frau Heidel. My frustrations—”
She shook her head, interrupting an explanation that would only embarrass him later. “Where is Lady Venner?”
“I haven’t seen her on this level.”
“Good luck to you, Oliver. And be careful.”
Mathilda tackled two more flights and worked to dispel her fruitless anxieties. She quietly knocked at her friend’s door.
Ingrid reclined on a mountain of pillows, her eyes closed. She had drawn the drapes against the winds and rattling windowpanes. Several candles decorated the room with flickers of gold.
Sitting gingerly on the bed, Mathilda took cold hands into hers. Emotion roughened her voice. “What can I do?”
Ingrid opened luminous green eyes and offered a wan smile. “You’ll miss your lesson, dearest. I’m sorry.”
“Nothing could be farther from my mind at this moment.” She happily realized that she spoke the truth. Finally. Ingrid’s distress over her husband’s safety overwhelmed every other consideration. “Moments ago, Oliver led a search party into the streets.”
“You must think me a silly goose,” she said. “Everyone else bands together while I sit here moping and fretting.”
“But you mope and fret very artfully. Talk to me, if it helps.”
“You are needed downstairs, no?”
“Venner would be most displeased if I attended to the house and your highly capable staff before comforting you.”
Ingrid placed trembling hands on either side of her gown and hoisted herself into a sitting position. “I grew into adulthood knowing Father would help choose a husband on my behalf. A beneficial marriage was my privilege as much as my obligation. But I worried about my future. Do you remember those months?”
“I remember.”
“I wondered what would I feel or do when I finally met him, whoever he was.” She sighed. “When Father introduced me to Christoph, he solved my mystery. I had a face and a name and a voice to complete the picture of my future.”
Smiling, Mathilda clung to the chance to relive happier moments. In the midst of searching for a mere entrée into the highest classes of European society, Ingrid had found Venner. Formal, unblinking and considered far too proper for the likes of an unequal marriage, he had been more intimidating than the fight to win society’s approval. For all of his political talent and good standing, however, Venner had proven a lonely and
Another flight up, in the ballroom, half a dozen men from the Venners’ retinue surrounded Oliver. They were busily outfitting themselves with enough supplies to search for their missing master. Torches, ropes, heavy outerwear, and wooden whistles would help protect the volunteers from becoming lost or stranded themselves. The swarming tempest of snow and ice obscured everything outside, and the search would be dangerous.
The alternative, however—leaving Venner to the mercy of the blizzard—was beyond contemplation.
The men dispersed, but Mathilda stalled Oliver’s departure. “Still no word?”
Shaking his head in silent dejection, he cast a glance at the marvelous grandfather clock at the far end of the ballroom. “He was supposed to return this morning.”
“He might not have reached the city boundary yet.”
Oliver yanked a solid knot into a guideline. Dark curls covered the tops of his ears and shook across his forehead. “I should’ve been with him.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” she said. “The trip is simple, one night gone and back again. He asked you to stay, to look after the household.”
“ Ja, because he believes he is invincible.”
Mathilda drew back. She had never seen Oliver angered. That he spoke about Venner with such harsh censure surprised her to silence.
“My apologies, Frau Heidel. My frustrations—”
She shook her head, interrupting an explanation that would only embarrass him later. “Where is Lady Venner?”
“I haven’t seen her on this level.”
“Good luck to you, Oliver. And be careful.”
Mathilda tackled two more flights and worked to dispel her fruitless anxieties. She quietly knocked at her friend’s door.
Ingrid reclined on a mountain of pillows, her eyes closed. She had drawn the drapes against the winds and rattling windowpanes. Several candles decorated the room with flickers of gold.
Sitting gingerly on the bed, Mathilda took cold hands into hers. Emotion roughened her voice. “What can I do?”
Ingrid opened luminous green eyes and offered a wan smile. “You’ll miss your lesson, dearest. I’m sorry.”
“Nothing could be farther from my mind at this moment.” She happily realized that she spoke the truth. Finally. Ingrid’s distress over her husband’s safety overwhelmed every other consideration. “Moments ago, Oliver led a search party into the streets.”
“You must think me a silly goose,” she said. “Everyone else bands together while I sit here moping and fretting.”
“But you mope and fret very artfully. Talk to me, if it helps.”
“You are needed downstairs, no?”
“Venner would be most displeased if I attended to the house and your highly capable staff before comforting you.”
Ingrid placed trembling hands on either side of her gown and hoisted herself into a sitting position. “I grew into adulthood knowing Father would help choose a husband on my behalf. A beneficial marriage was my privilege as much as my obligation. But I worried about my future. Do you remember those months?”
“I remember.”
“I wondered what would I feel or do when I finally met him, whoever he was.” She sighed. “When Father introduced me to Christoph, he solved my mystery. I had a face and a name and a voice to complete the picture of my future.”
Smiling, Mathilda clung to the chance to relive happier moments. In the midst of searching for a mere entrée into the highest classes of European society, Ingrid had found Venner. Formal, unblinking and considered far too proper for the likes of an unequal marriage, he had been more intimidating than the fight to win society’s approval. For all of his political talent and good standing, however, Venner had proven a lonely and
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