“But the new shop will be better, still. And it will have a proper bakery for you-with big ovens and a good kitchen. We’ll even get some kitchen staff to help us. It will be wonderful. You’ll see.”
He laughed, then, and as low as Wilhelmina’s heart had been at hurting her friend, her spirits revived and took wing on that happy sound. “You are a good man, Etzel,” she told him, and planted a big wet kiss on his round cheek.
His smile swelled to bursting, and his face turned red.
A few days later, Arnostovi made good on his promise. “Fraulein Wilhelmina, come,” he said, striding into the coffeehouse with his little black book tucked under his arm. “I have something to show you.”
“Would you like your Kaffee first, Herr Arnostovi?”
“Not now. We must hurry. Come along.”
He turned and stepped back out the door and into the street, beckoning her to follow.
Mina turned and called to Englebert, who was just then taking a tray of pastries from the oven. “Yes, go,” he replied. “I will watch things here. Go. I trust you.”
“What is the rush?” Mina asked, catching up with him a few steps later. His heels clicked along at a fair pace, making the long white plume in his green hat ripple in the breeze of his passing.
“There are people coming to meet me at the property,” he told her. “They will have it, unless you take it first.”
“Oh,” replied Mina, not quite understanding. “I see.”
They proceeded at pace to the Old Town Square. “There!” declared Arnostovi, pointing across the market area to the north side and a row of fine shops that shared a copper-faced awning that shielded the doorways to the shops from wind and rain. The shops were south-facing and fronted with large glass windows the likes of which were enjoyed by very few buildings on the square. “That one,” he said, indicating the rank of shops with the point of his spade-shaped beard.
“Which one?”
“The one on the end nearest the clock tower.”
Wilhelmina’s eyes widened at the sight. “That one?”
“Yes.” He bent his head around to look at her, slowing his pace only slightly. “What is the matter?”
“Nothing! It is… the best property on the square!”
“So some would say.” He started away again.
“And you are giving it to us?” she asked, scrambling to catch up with him again,
“I am giving you nothing, Fraulein. I am offering it to you for rent, as we agreed.” Once across the square, he moved quickly to the door of the shop and withdrew a large iron key from the leather satchel at his side. “Come. Hurry. We have not much time.”
As if to lend urgency to his words, the clock in the great stone tower began to chime the hour. Herr Arnostovi unlocked the door of the shop and opened it wide for Mina to enter. She stepped in.
The single large room was bare of furnishings, but what she could see spoke of luxury and quality-all brass and crystal, with white marble on the floors, and walnut wainscoting on the walls, and rows of expensive blue tiles around the windows and door. A three-tiered chandelier hung from a painted ceiling over the centre of the room, and the eastern wall featured an ornate Kachelofen, a ceramic stove of glittering white and blue tiles.
“Well?” said Arnostovi. “What do you think?”
“It is beautiful!”
“Good. Then it is settled, yes?”
“I’d love to have it, of course, but how much is it?”
He took out his book and began flicking through the pages. “The men who are coming have offered twenty- five Guldiners a month in rent. You will agree to thirty.”
“Oh, Herr Arnostovi,” said Mina, “it is too much. We will never be able to afford that.”
“Maybe not today,” he allowed. “But you will-and very soon.”
“But how-?”
“On the increase of business this place will bring. Also, you will raise your prices. You charge too little.”
Wilhelmina bit her lip. She looked around doubtfully. “I cannot think what Englebert would say.”
“He said he trusted you to make the decision,” replied the shrewd man of business. “Now I ask you to trust me.” He fixed her with a fierce, demanding stare.
“What about storerooms and apartments?” she wondered. “What about a kitchen?”
“On the floors above,” answered Arnostovi, “you will find everything you need. I will build and furnish any kitchen you desire.”
Wilhelmina looked around, a frown of concentration creasing her forehead. Did she dare risk so much?
“My dear girl,” said the landlord gently. “Think what I am offering you. This place will be the talk of all Prague. The best people will come. Your clientele will pay any price to be seen here. It will be an unrivalled success, but please hear me when I say you must agree at once.”
Gazing around the empty space, Mina could see it filled with gleaming, polished tables where fine ladies and gentlemen sat, conversing and laughing, drinking coffee and eating Etzel’s fine pastries. It was an attractive picture the landlord was painting, and she wanted it. “I agree.”
Arnostovi closed his book with a snap. “Good.”
A shadow darkened the doorway. “They are here. Go in the back and decide where you wish the kitchen to be. Say nothing. These men will be disappointed and angry. I will deal with them.”
Mina nodded and moved to the rear of the premises, where she did as the landlord had suggested and began planning how best to organise the space to accommodate the ovens and work surfaces she envisioned. At the far front of the shop she heard a rap at the door and Arnostovi answering it. There were voices, greetings exchanged, and then things grew quiet. She allowed herself a glance over her shoulder to see what was happening. Arnostovi and three men in loden cloaks and plumed hats were standing huddled just inside the entrance.
Then, even as she watched, one of the men gave the floor an angry thump with the end of his walking stick. Words were exchanged. Voices sharpened. Herr Arnostovi spread his hands and shrugged. Holding open the door, he ushered the men from the building, returning a few moments later, smiling and humming to himself.
“Well, what was that about?” Mina could not help asking.
“The truth is I do not own this building,” he confessed. “As much as I would love to own such a place, my means do not yet extend to such a height.”
“Who does it belong to, then?”
“A building so grand…” He gazed around appreciatively. “It belongs to Archduke Mattias.”
Wilhelmina took a moment to consider this. In her relatively short time in Prague, she had begun assembling a rough working knowledge of court affairs. “The archduke-you mean the emperor’s brother?”
“The same,” confirmed Arnostovi. “The archduke owns many properties in the city-in addition to his country estates, of course.”
“Of course,” agreed Mina, perplexed. “But if that is so… then how-?”
“How did I rent it to you just now?” Arnostovi indulged in a crafty, conspiratorial smile. “Naturally, Archduke Mattias does not manage these properties himself. Far from it. He employs ministers for that. Chief of these is one Herr Wolfgang von Rumpf, very high up in court. As it happens, Von Rumpf is a gambler and cardplayer. He spends many an evening at the card tables of the more fashionable houses in the city. I also play cards.”
“You do surprise me, Herr Arnostovi.” Mina tutted. “Go on.”
“Do not tell anyone-I am a terrible cardplayer,” admitted Arnostovi cheerfully. “Nevertheless, I am better than Von Rumpf. I have been trying for months, years perhaps, to be invited to his table. Last night, it happened. We were both at dinner together with mutual acquaintances and we played.” His smile spread wide. “I won.”
Wilhelmina’s eyes grew wide. “You mean…?”
“No. He may be a bad cardplayer, but he is not a fool.”
“Then what did you win exactly?”
“I obtained from him the promise to allow me to manage this property for him-and for the archduke, it must be said-for a small share in the profits.”
“I see.” Wilhelmina frowned.
“No, no! It is not like that. For me it is not the money. I want only to use this as a means of gaining access to court. It is all to the benefit of my business interests-yours, too, I might add.”
