Mortal Mischief

Braun smiled, and held it up. It was still bandaged.

The Count nodded, approvingly. Braun was unsure whether he was impressed by the dressing or pleased that the wound hadn't properly healed. The younger man produced a box of six handmade Egyptian cigarettes. The pale yellow wrapping papers were the same colour as the tobacco, threads of which protruded from either end.

'Which girl did you have?' asked the Count.

'Felka,' replied Braun, tamping the loose tobacco.

'The new one?'

'Yes.'

'Would you recommend her?'

'She was very conscientious.'

The Count inhaled and closed his eyes.

'That witch Matejka wouldn't let me have her.'

'Why not?'

'Thinks I'm too rough.'

'To be frank, I'm inclined to agree.'

The Count's eyes opened slowly and his lips curled upwards.

'I take it that you've heard about Holderlin?' said Braun, finally lighting his cigarette.

'Of course.'

'It seems, then, that I owe you an apology.'

Zaborszky executed a languorous benediction with crossed fingers – before releasing a deep, world-weary sigh. He drew on the hookah again and, after another lengthy silence, said: 'You were Fraulein Lowenstein's lover?'

Braun assented with a curt nod.

'And accomplice?' Zaborszky added.

Braun nodded again, and let his body slide forward on the sofa.

'But the children were not yours.'

'No, they weren't mine.'

The Count brought his two hands together and, linking his fingers, made a dome. He was wearing so many rings that it looked as though he had magically conjured up a jewelled orb. A big emerald caught the light, producing a viridescent glimmer.

'Holderlin,' said the Count. 'The bank manager. The devoted husband!' He began to laugh – a curious rapid barking that suddenly stopped dead. 'Who would have thought it?'

Their unconscious companion suddenly belched and sat bolt upright, looking around the room as if he had awakened from a nightmare only to find himself in the lower circles of hell.

83

LIEBERMANN TOOK THE letter and sat back in the armchair, letting his head rest on the antimacassar.

Dear Amelia – I know what he did to you. You were not the first and I know you will not be the last. I am truly sorry: forgive me. I should have done so much more but I did not have the courage to speak out. Beatrice.

'When did this arrive?' asked Liebermann.

'Thursday,' Miss Lydgate answered.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Outside, a church bell began to chime. The evening was drawing in.

'It is a tragedy,' said Amelia Lydgate. 'Especially for the children.'

'Indeed,' said Liebermann. 'I wonder what arrangements Minister Schelling will make for their care?'

'Edward and Adele are very fond of their Aunt Marie. I hope that he has the good sense to seek her assistance. She is a childless widow and will love the children as if they were her own, of that I am sure.'

Miss Lydgate rose from her seat, took a box of matches from the mantelpiece and lit a gas lamp.

'But what are your own feelings, Miss Lydgate? Concerning Frau Schelling? Her death is a terrible tragedy – but this –' Liebermann raised the letter '– is also a dreadful admission.'

The young woman sat down and stared directly at Liebermann. In the gaslight her metallic-hued eyes had turned a pellucid shade of blue.

'I pity her, Doctor Liebermann. By keeping silent, she undoubtedly colluded with her husband – but what else could she do? Had Frau Schelling petitioned for divorce, she would have encountered terrible disapproval. The Catholic church is not renowned for its liberal attitude to the dissolution of the marriage bond. Edward and Adele would have been stigmatised and Herr Schelling's political career might have suffered, which in turn would have affected the children's financial security. Even worse, Frau Schelling's complaints and grievances might have been misconstrued as abnormal symptoms. I dare say that during the ensuing conflict her voice might have become raised, her speech more excited, her passions more violent, and then what?' Amelia Lydgate smiled sadly. 'There are many, particularly in your profession, Herr Doctor, who would associate such unfeminine behaviour with mental illness. Frau Schelling might have found herself incarcerated in the General Hospital or even at Am Steinhof. Herr Schelling's behaviour was despicable, but I am not naive, Doctor Liebermann. Men like Herr Schelling are not so unusual in this city, or in any other European capital – nor is the silent suffering of the women whom they subjugate.'

'You pity her because you identify with her.'

'Of course. All women know what it is like to be caught on the horns of an impossible dilemma, and all women share a precarious fate. We tread an acrobat's wire, delicately weighing and balancing our own needs and desires against the needs and desires of men. And if we deviate from this narrow wire – we fall.'

Liebermann felt disturbed by her speech – even accused.

'Please excuse me, Herr Doctor,' Miss Lydgate continued, detecting his discomfort. 'You did not ask me for so forthright an opinion. And I may have caused you some offence.'

'No, not at all . . .' he replied. 'I . . . I have much sympathy with your view. Women are ill served by our society, and by medicine. There are some doctors in Vienna who still believe women are uniquely vulnerable to hysteria on account of their having a wandering womb. There is much to be achieved.'

Liebermann handed the letter back to Amelia Lydgate who folded it in two and placed it on the table.

'Perhaps,' said the young governess, 'when there are more women doctors, such risible ideas will attract the scorn they deserve.'

'I hope so,' said Liebermann with evident sincerity.

Their conversation progressed naturally to the subject of women's suffrage – a cause which seemed to have attracted more vociferous advocates in London than in Vienna. Liebermann acknowledged that his countrymen, particularly those who sympathised with the Pan-German movement, were violently against women's involvement in politics or public life. As far as the Pan-Germans were concerned, the education of females should serve only one purpose: preparation for motherhood. Although the university had opened its doors to female medical students, the principle had been opposed by the entire faculty. It was only when old Franz Josef himself had insisted that the Muslim women of Bosnia must have female physicians that the concession had been made. Moreover, it was still impossible for a woman to study law and there seemed to be little prospect of change.

When the opportunity arose, Amelia Lydgate excused herself and returned with a pot of tea. Liebermann was conscious of a certain irony. After expressing such militant views concerning women's rights, the young Englishwoman was curiously compliant with respect to one particular gender convention. She would not permit Liebermann to pour his own tea.

Miss Lydgate tilted the pot and the hot liquid bubbled and steamed into his teacup. 'Oh, incidentally,' she said casually. 'I have given the matter of your murder inquiry some more thought.'

'Really?' said Liebermann, sitting up in his chair. 'And have you reached any conclusions?'

'Yes,' said the young woman. 'I have.'

Liebermann craned forward.

'Would you like some milk, Doctor Liebermann?'

'No, thank you, Miss Lydgate.'

'Are you sure? I always find that a splash of dairy improves the flavour of Earl Gray immeasurably.'