“I hit on the idea of writing her into a Victorian
“AND WHO IS your German guest, Elizabeth dear,” asked Harriet Dalrymple, narrowing her small piggish eyes at the hand-written list of names, “Wilhelm — Cross, is it?”
Frederique Cheniere giggled from behind a cloud of face powder at the dressing table. “I believe they pronounce it Krauss,” she offered in heavily accented French, “and I hear he is quite the
Cornelia Myler nodded in enthusiastic agreement. “Yes, a positive scoundrel! Why ever did you invite him?”
Their hostess, Lady Elizabeth Rossiter, continued to admire herself in the cheval mirror, turning this way and that as she kept her friends in suspense. At last she finished smoothing down the heavy brocade gown and turned to face them, her crinoline swinging round her like a bell. “He was once a doctor,” she said, her birdlike features producing a malicious grin, “but a scandal with a certain lady patient led to his disgrace and exile.”
“I hear she was the wife of an archduke,” said Cornelia. “Or whatever they call it over there.” She waved her hand dismissively. Gossip was always more important than facts.
Frederique sniffed. “No, she was only the wife of a clergyman,” she corrected, “but he was — how do you say? — ex-communicated. And later the church, it burned down.”
“It did,” Cornelia was quick to confirm, as though she’d seen it with her own eyes. She added in a scandalised whisper, “They say he’s in league with the Devil.”
Harriet gasped and fluttered a hand to the ample bosom straining beneath the confines of her apricot gown.
“I have it on good authority,” said Lady Elizabeth, “that when his lodgings were searched they found the skulls of a dozen maidens in a velvet hatbox beside his bed.”
“
Harriet’s face was contorted with both horror and fascination. “Good heavens! And you have invited this man to dine with us? And stay the weekend? Elizabeth, are you quite mad?”
Frederique laughed and Cornelia immediately joined in with her.
“Now, now,” Elizabeth said, placing a hand on Harriet’s meaty arm. “My dear, you’ll work yourself into a state. Who knows what the truth of it is? But I find the prospect of his company rather stimulating. His manners are impeccable after all even if he is a bit. eccentric.”
“You haven’t paired him with my Jane for dinner, have you?” Harriet asked suddenly. “The child’s only sixteen and—”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Of course not, dear. Nor you,” she hastened to add, seeing Frederique’s worried expression. “I’ve put him between Aunt Florence and me. That grizzled old harridan is in no state to complain and she’s lucky George and I don’t keep her locked in her room all weekend. His little maid can amuse him if he finds Florence too tiresome.”
Cornelia’s head jerked up immediately, like an animal scenting prey. “Maid?”
“Oh! I quite forgot to tell you. He travels with a female valet. Never lets her out of his sight and he won’t allow anyone else to serve him.”
“Goodness me,” Cornelia said archly. “Where does she sleep — on the floor at the foot of his bed?”
They all giggled at the thought and fancied themselves quite decadent.
Elizabeth dabbed her throat with scent and grinned at the others. “I’ve given him the room at the end of the east wing. It has an antechamber and Perkins was just able to fit a small bed in for the maid.”
Frederique’s eyes glittered as she fingered the black velvet choker at her throat, her mischievous thoughts obvious to everyone.
“Well, perhaps they do things differently in Germany,” Harriet conceded.
Cornelia grinned. “He might at least make some concession to decency by disguising her as a boy!”
There came a soft knock at the door and the ladies stifled their giggling as Elizabeth called out “Yes?”
A dull-eyed girl shuffled inside and stood staring sullenly at the floor.
Harriet swooped down on her at once. “Jane darling, I thought we agreed you looked best in the yellow silk! This green is far too sombre for you. I wonder you even brought it!”
“I don’t feel very well,” Jane moaned, clutching her stomach.
“You’ll feel much better out of that dreary green,” Harriet insisted. “Now come along and let’s find you a nice summery frock.”
The remaining three rolled their eyes as the garrulous woman dragged her daughter off down the corridor, prattling incessantly.
Wilhelm Krauss was a man of imposing physique and imperious countenance. His dark hair was combed back and his temples and sideboards were shot through with silver. His eyes were deep pools of black that seemed to reflect no light. He rose from his chair by the fire as three of the ladies entered the library with a rustle of skirts.
“What did I tell you, Krauss?” said Lord George Rossiter, clapping his companion on the shoulder with a hearty laugh. “I believe they call it ‘fashionably late’.”
“George!” Elizabeth scolded, affecting a debutante’s pout that was dramatically at odds with her ageing features.
Captain Charles Myler and James Dalrymple glanced up from a game of chess in the corner. Myler aimed a polite smile at Cornelia and immediately returned his attention to the game while Dalrymple didn’t seem particularly bothered by the absence of his own wife and daughter.
“Good evening, my lady,” Krauss said with a sharp little bow to Elizabeth. “I want to thank you for your generosity this weekend. I am aware that my company is unwelcome in certain circles.”
Elizabeth inclined her head graciously, ignoring his indiscretion despite the flutter it provoked in her friends. “You are indeed very welcome, Mr Krauss,” she said, unable to avoid glancing at the maid who stood like a ghost behind him, her hands folded demurely.
Cornelia and Frederique were sizing her up too. The girl was certainly fetching — a pretty, petite creature with delicate features and wide blue eyes. Her hair was pinned beneath a scrap of lace and she wore a white pinafore over a plain black uniform.
Elizabeth seated herself on the chintz-covered sofa opposite the fireplace and Krauss resumed his seat in the chair beside it. Cornelia and Frederique arranged themselves on the sofa next to their friend. They each accepted glasses of sherry from the butler in turn.
“I do hope you are enjoying your visit to England,” Elizabeth said.
“I find your countryside most invigorating,” Krauss replied, his voice deep and resonant. “And you have a most impressive estate. Exquisitely furnished. However, I am not merely visiting.”
The lady had just raised her glass to her lips. “Oh?”
“Yes, I intend to make my home here. There is nothing for me back in Germany.”
The ladies exchanged glances, recalling their conversation upstairs.
“How delightful,” Elizabeth said. “Then perhaps we shall be seeing more of you.”
He smiled slyly. “Perhaps you shall.” As he drained his sherry glass the maid took it from him and set it on the little mahogany table beside him. The butler was quick to follow with his tray, collecting the glass and hovering beside the maid until Krauss waved him away.
There followed an awkward silence, which grew until it was broken at last by a shrill barking voice. “That machine makes a frightful noise!”
The group turned to regard the elderly lady installed in an armchair by the bay window. She had looked up from her needlepoint and was staring about like someone who’d woken to find herself in strange and disagreeable surroundings.
“No one is using any machine, Aunt Florence,” said Elizabeth, miming a long-suffering expression for Krauss’ benefit.
George cupped a hand to his mouth and shouted across the room. “Sit tight, old thing! We’ll have supper
