Stormy Weather

A Fresh Breeze From The West - I

Joseph, Baron von Hertenberg, was a remarkable man, even his enemies had to grant him that. He had inherited his father's estate, about thirty miles east of Vienna, at the age of two-and-twenty, and had increased his fortune steadily ever since. Since being a Baronet was, in his opinion, not enough to keep a man tolerably busy, he had entered the army at the age of nineteen and had, in the meantime, risen to the rank of a Major General.

There were people who would have said that his marriage had been a mistake. He had fallen in love with the daughter of an English gentleman staying in Vienna and had married her, even though his friends had tried to dissuade him from this plan. An Englishwoman was not the right sort of wife for him. What he needed was a woman whose relations could get his career going. But he had always been a headstrong man, and had succeeded in having things his own way. He had married Elizabeth Bradbury, a sweet, gentle and beautiful young woman, despite his friends' and relations' veto, and had never regretted it in the twenty-five years of their marriage.

Even those who had predicted that the marriage would soon end in a disaster had to admit that they had been wrong. The couple was extremely fond of each other, and Baron von Hertenberg, who was so determined a person with other people, was unable to refuse his wife anything. Her influence surprised everyone who had known the Baron before his marriage. He became calmer, was finally able to control his rather quick temper, even if it was only for his wife's sake. When she was with him, he was at his best.

One year after their wedding, their eldest child was born. This son was christened Joseph, like his father, and turned out to be an intelligent child who had inherited not only his mother's looks but also her calm and friendly nature.

Owing to the Baron's frequent absence, but also to the Baroness's delicate state of health, there were no more children until five years later, when another boy was born. Carl was very much like his father in everything -- which resulted in a rather strained relationship between the both of them. Baron von Hertenberg was quick to discover his own faults in his son, and tried to remedy them as well as he could. To Carl it seemed as if he could never do anything right in his father's eyes. All in all, Carl caused his parents more worry than his elder brother did.

The youngest child was a girl. The Baroness was especially fond of her little Marie, since she knew that Marie was the last child she would ever have. The delivery had been a very difficult one. Her physician had spoken to her and her husband after Marie's birth, and had pointed out that another pregnancy would most probably end in her dying in childbirth. They had therefore decided not to tempt Fate any more. Three children, all of them healthy and intelligent, were enough. No one could -- and should -- ask for more.

But sometimes the Baroness wished for another little girl. She noticed that Marie was a rather shy and timid child, and although her brothers were fond of her, they did not associate much with her. They were boys and had their boyish interests. There was no place for a little sister in their games. Besides, they were so much older than Marie.

Marie spent most of her time with her mother and her governess. She was quick at learning, a sweet-tempered and obedient child. Like her eldest brother Joseph she was fond of reading, and talented at drawing.

Since Marie led such a secluded life, her mother tried everything to get her into company with other girls. She encouraged Marie to make friends and to invite them home whenever she wanted, but Marie shrunk from the mere idea of walking up to strangers and trying to become friends with them.

All in all, they were a happy family, and Baron von Hertenberg sometimes called them "his real wealth". There were those little arguments and struggles, of course, which one gets in every family, but nothing serious.

*****

One morning, shortly after Marie's thirteenth birthday, Baron von Hertenberg was sitting in the breakfast room with his wife and started to read his letters which had just arrived. Suddenly, he began to laugh.

"Now, that is a good one," he said, still laughing heartily and handing the letter over to his wife. "Read this."

She glanced at the signature. "Your cousin? What does he want from you," she asked.

"Well, read the letter and you will know," the Baron answered. "I am sure you will agree with me that this is quite out of the question."

"Is it," his wife said, reading the letter. "I think it is an interesting idea."

"Which means you want to adopt it, I suppose," he said, still grinning. "I know what it means when you look at me like that."

She laughed. "Do you not think it would be a wonderful thing for Marie?"

He frowned. "My dear," he said, "are you really so certain about that? What if the girls do not get along with each other?"

The fact was that Baron von Hertenberg's cousin, Georg von Laudeck, had written to him, asking if his daughter, Theresia, might stay in the von Hertenberg household for a while, "in order to complete her studies in music and to get acquainted with better society than our village has to offer."

There was a frequent correspondence between the two cousins. Years ago, they had met, when Baron von Hertenberg had been stationed in the western part of the country. They had liked each other from the beginning, and when the Baron had left the Tyrol in the direction of Vienna, he had been determined to keep in touch with that part of his family. On the whole, he was most ready to do his cousin a favour, but on the other hand ...

"Elizabeth, do not forget what a heavy responsibility this is," he added. "Taking care of someone else's child...."

"It is no more than the responsibility we already have with our own children, my dear," his wife replied calmly.

"With one difference. Our own children are ours, and let us not forget that the boys are grown-ups already. We need not worry about them any more. Actually, I was looking forward to some more peace and quiet."

The Baroness laughed. "You, of all people! You need excitement as much as you need your daily bread, my dear, do not deny it. But do not worry, your sons are still capable of mischief..."

"Whenever they are referred to as mischievous, you refer to them as my sons," he said, with a grin. "Can you tell me why this is so?"

"I used to know a young man once, who was very much capable of mischief at the age of five-and-twenty. So why should his sons not take after their father?" Baroness von Hertenberg answered, smiling.

"But do not digress from the topic. Why do you not want the little girl to come here? I think it is an excellent idea -- especially for Marie. She needs someone her age, and you know she is rather shy."

"If Theresia von Laudeck is anything like her father, Elizabeth, they will be the worst match the world has ever seen. She will intimidate Marie, and instead of doing Marie good, that girl's presence will make matters worse."

Baroness von Hertenberg did not pursue the topic any more -- for the moment. She knew her husband would give in sooner or later, and as far as she was concerned, she could wait. Perhaps, by dinnertime, he would already have changed his mind. But she decided to do one thing. She would ask Marie how she would like to have her cousin here -- if Marie had no objection to it, then her father could hardly fear for her well-being.

II

The next day, Baroness von Hertenberg took the chance to talk to her daughter and to ask her what she thought about the idea of having her cousin with her. Marie listened intently to what her mother had to say, calmly smiling to herself.

"So, my dear, what do you think?" the Baroness asked, finishing off her narrative.

"I do not really know..." Marie answered, slowly. "What is she like?"

"As far as her Papa describes her," the Baroness said, "she must be a delightful girl. A bit lively, but good-natured, and very talented, it seems."

Marie nodded. Lively ... what did that mean, lively? She knew lively girls, but mostly she did not like them very much. They were usually the sort of girls who teased and tormented girls like her. Marie had met lively girls in school, and had hated them with as much hate as she was capable of. "Lively" often meant "thoughtless". If that cousin Theresia were one of that sort, Marie would not really want to have her here in Vienna -- even though her mother seemed to approve of the idea.

"Marie," her mother said. "You have not answered my question yet."

Marie sighed. "Mama, how am I to know if I shall like that cousin if I have not seen her yet? What if she comes here and we find out that we cannot stand each other?"

"In that case we shall send her back home again, dearest."

This was not really what Marie had wanted. Even if she should not like her cousin, Marie felt that it would be hard on Theresia if she were pushed around like that. Marie would not want such a thing to happen to herself.

"That sounds rather cruel to me, Mama," Marie said, sorrowfully. "I mean, they bring her here, and if we quarrel, she is sent back again. It must give her the impression that nobody wants her."

Baroness von Hertenberg laughed. This was very much like her daughter, to worry about things long before they might happen.

"I do not think any girl needs to fear that she is not wanted, if she has such affectionate parents as Theresia von Laudeck has," she said to reassure her daughter.

"Affectionate? They are going to send her away!" Marie answered.

"They send her here because they think it is the best thing for her, my dear. Sometimes we have to do things we do not like, simply because they are good for us. I am quite certain that little Theresia's mother is as fond of her daughter as I am fond of you, but she wants to give her the opportunity to see something of the world."

Marie looked rather doubtful.

"What if..." Baroness von Hertenberg began.

Marie gave her mother a curious look. "Go on, Mama," she said.

"What if we invite Theresia and her mother to come here for a month or two, and see how you get along with each other? If you do not like each other, Baroness von Laudeck can take her daughter back home with her. Do you like that idea?"

Marie smiled. "Very much, Mama."

She did not quite understand why her mother had set her heart on persuading her, but it was obvious that she wanted that cousin to come, and Marie had no objection to seeing the "lively, talented" girl. She only hoped that Theresia would not be like those girls in school...

*****

It was still dark outside when Theresia von Laudeck woke up because someone touched her shoulder. On opening her eyes she recognised her grandfather.

"Get up, little one," he said, with a smile. "If you want to join me today, you cannot sleep all day long."

"But it is still dark," she moaned. "And cold."

"You will feel warm soon, child. Now get up and get dressed. Or stay in bed, just as you like. Only, then you will not be able to come along...Arno and I were so looking forward to your company."

With a smile, Theresia got out of bed. "I would not miss the fun for anything," she said.

"Good. See you at breakfast then. But make haste, I want to set out at sunrise."

He left Theresia's room, and Theresia went over to the window to look out. The full moon was about to set, and there was already a faint glow in the East. The snowy mountain tops stood out against the dark sky, and the stars...Theresia sometimes felt one could get lost in a sky like this one.

She got dressed for her outing with her grandfather. Theresia was a girl who had no sense for finery at all. Clothes had to be practical, and they should not hinder her when moving about. Her grandfather would take her to the woods today, to feed the animals there, and she knew that this meant walking through knee-deep snow. Therefore she put on some old trousers of her brother's, and tied her fair hair with a ribbon. She knew, of course, that her mother would be upset on seeing her in such attire -- but even her mother would have to admit that one could not wade through the snow wearing a dress. Well, if she was lucky she would be back and have changed dress before her mother had noticed anything.

She snatched her cloak and bonnet from the wardrobe, and went downstairs to have breakfast. On entering the breakfast parlour, her grandfather's dog, Arno, ran towards her and greeted her with an affectionate yelp.

Theresia grinned, patted Arno's head, and sat down at the table with her grandfather. A few minutes later, her brother Martin joined them, and had a laughing fit on seeing his sister wearing his old suit.

"What is so funny," Theresia asked her brother angrily.

"You are," he answered, trying to compose himself. "Of all the hilarious ideas you have ever had, this is the worst."

"The master of stupid ideas has spoken," Theresia said, heatedly.

"Really, Theresia, you look awful," Martin said. "One cannot help but laugh. Especially if you mean to wear this bonnet of yours..." He started to laugh again.

"One more word, Martin, and you will find out what it is like to swallow three rolls at once," Theresia hissed threateningly.

"Enough now," their grandfather said. "Martin, stop teasing your sister."

"I am sorry, Grandfather," Martin said, still grinning. "But you have to admit it is a rare sight to see, especially so early in the morning."

"You are talking as if you have some knowledge of early mornings," Theresia answered. "Strange. I always thought you referred to them as late evenings. Did they not dismiss the night watch in Innsbruck after you had moved there, knowing that you would be out and about all night, anyway?"

"Stop talking about things you know nothing about, little one," Martin said patronisingly. "I want to have my breakfast in peace, if you do not mind."

"I do not mind at all. I would by no means spoil the rare occasion of your having breakfast."

"Theresia," her grandfather said, in a dangerous tone. "It is enough now."

Theresia nodded, and dedicated her attention to her breakfast -- and Arno, who was sitting on the floor next to her chair, giving her a pleading "poor-little-doggy-has-had-nothing-to-eat-for-weeks" look now and then, in the hope of some piece of bacon falling down from the table -- quite accidentally, of course.

The sun was rising when the three -- that is, four of them, counting Arno in -- left for the woods. Theresia noticed how her brother looked at her once or twice -- grinning and shaking his head -- and she decided that he needed to be taught a lesson. A heap of snow on his head would just come in handy.

They waded up the hill, followed by Arno, who was quite serious now that he knew it was going to be a "work visit".

Once they had reached the edge of the forest, the snow became less, and they could walk quite comfortably. Theresia carried the bag with salt, some chestnuts, and hempseed for the birds.

The two men were in front, and seemed to have forgotten about her -- they walked quickly, and Theresia had some trouble to keep up with them. But she would not have asked them to wait, not for the world -- Martin would only say that, if she could not keep up, she had not business going with them.

She remembered how he had told her frightful tales when she had been younger -- tales to keep her out of the forest, because "it was not the place for a child to be." There was the Forest Witch, a terrifying creature with a hunchback and long, sharp teeth, living mainly on the flesh of those young children who had the misfortune of encountering her. One day, he had even followed Theresia into the woods, dressed up in a dark cloak and hat, to frighten her. Theresia grinned. He had regretted it -- Theresia had been frightened, it was true, but she had also been determined to sell her life dearly, and that the Forest Witch would not be able to eat her in full possession of all her teeth. She had used her stick to beat the "witch", and it had taken some time until she had recognised her brother.

Martin had been clever enough to keep the story to himself, and when his parents had asked him, he had attributed his black eye to some fight with the village boys. Understandable, in a way, there were not many boys who would admit that they had been beaten up by their younger sisters -- especially if those sisters were six years their junior. From that day on, there had been no more Forest Witch tales.

Even though some people might get the impression that there was no love lost between the two Laudeck siblings, this was not so. They did love each other very much, they only did not want to admit it -- not even to each other. But whenever either of them got into trouble, the other one was ready to help. Martin von Laudeck could become quite fierce if anyone tried to tease his sister, or spoke ill of her. No one had the right to tease his sister but he himself, and if there was anyone who did not know about it, well, he would find out soon enough. His sister had the same attitude -- no matter how much she quarrelled with her brother, anyone who did not like Martin had to face Theresia's wrath.

They had by now reached the feeding point. There was a crib in the middle of a clearing, and a small wooden shed where the hay was kept. Theresia's grandfather went to the shed, got some hay out and stuffed it into the crib. In the meantime, Martin filled the birdhouse with fresh birdseed. Theresia busied herself by trying to find out what animals had been there since her last visit.

A great deal of deer, one could see that. But there had also been hares, and foxes, and a badger had been there as well. Even those animals one usually only found in higher mountain regions seemed to have come down towards the valley -- it was no wonder, the winter must be dreadful up there.

Theresia noticed that her brother was standing rather conveniently under a branch with a great deal of snow. Grinning mischievously, she stooped, picked up some snow and made a snowball.

"Over here, Martin," she called, and while her brother turned around to see what was the matter, she fired the snowball at the branch. The effect was worth the effort, Theresia thought. Her brother looked like a snowman.

"That was for laughing at me," she said, laughing. "Now who looks hilarious?"

"You're a witch," her brother answered. "The poor man who will marry you -- I pity him already."

"I will never marry," Theresia answered. "Do you really think I will give menfolk the opportunity to order me about? Not with me, sir."

"May the Lord keep you in this mind, sister," Martin answered, laughing.

"Depend upon it, He will," Theresia said.

*****

They came back to the castle at about ten o'clock, and Theresia's mother was already waiting for her daughter. She had known that Theresia would go with her grandfather, there was nothing to be feared in that respect, but when Anna von Laudeck saw her daughter's attire, she was shocked.

"What gave you the idea to dress up like that," she exclaimed.

"Well, Mama ... I thought it was more convenient for walking in the snow."

"More convenient, I see." Anna von Laudeck turned to her father-in-law. "How could you allow her to run around like that, I wonder?" she asked.

"Because it IS more convenient," he answered. "Do not worry so much, Anna. Nobody saw us."

"But someone could have seen you, Father," Anna answered. "Theresia, when will you ever learn that there are some things a young lady just does not do? Wearing men's clothes is one of them. Now, go back to your room, and put on something decent, will you? We will talk about that later."

Anna von Laudeck waited until her daughter had disappeared round the corner, and then she said, "Father, why do you shun all my efforts to make a lady out of Theresia?"

He sighed, and said, "Listen, Anna, I do not mean to be hard on you. I appreciate what you have done in that respect. But do you not think that Theresia is an extraordinary young girl as she is? She is clever, she knows more than a young girl is supposed to do -- she has had excellent teachers, thanks to you. She plays, she sings, and she is a good-natured child on the whole. I am certain she will make her way in the world. Is this not enough?"

Anna shook her head. "It is not, Father. True, she is clever, and she can play and sing, AND she knows a great deal. But all this will lead to nothing if her manners remain like this. She will only be laughed at -- and I do not want people to laugh at any daughter of mine. I am certain you would not want this to happen, either."

"She will change when she gets older," old Baron von Laudeck answered. "Theresia is still a child. Wait some two or three years, and she will be as much of a lady as you are."

"I hope so," Anna answered. "But I have decided to send her away to Vienna. She will never be a lady if she does not see anything of the world."

"Vienna? This is a bit far, is it not?"

"True, but it will do her good. She will mix with the right people, and she will have excellent teachers to develop her musical talents. It is for her best."

"What does Georg say about all this?"

"He is convinced that Theresia will do very well in Vienna, Father. It will only be for a few months, a year or two at the utmost."

"Does Theresia already know?" he asked.

"No, I do not want to tell her until we can be sure. Georg has not had any answer from his cousin yet."

Baron von Laudeck nodded. He only hoped that Joseph von Hertenberg had the decency to refuse his cousin's wish. Somehow he could not bear the thought of someone taking his little Theresia away.

III

A few days later, Anna von Laudeck received a letter from her husband's Viennese cousin, inviting her and her daughter to come for a few weeks' visit.

My wife and I agree that such an important decision cannot be made until the parties involved have had the opportunity to meet and to see if they like each other. On the whole, I have to say that my wife is very much in favour of having another little girl in the house. She believes that our daughter, Marie, needs a companion of suitable age. So, if the two girls happen to become friends, your daughter is very welcome to stay with us for as long as she wishes.

Anna von Laudeck had to admit that Baron von Hertenberg had a point. She would not want to leave her daughter in the charge of people who did not like her. Travelling to Vienna with her would give her the opportunity to see how Theresia fit in -- and if she felt that Theresia would be unhappy there, she could still take the girl back home with her without any problems. Of course Theresia's father needed to be convinced -- as far as he was concerned, every penny spent on a girl's education was wasted. Somehow she suspected that he still believed so -- he had refused point-blank to settle in Vienna for Theresia's sake, and had written the letter to his cousin very reluctantly, probably hoping that Joseph von Hertenberg would refuse his wish.

"Let her learn to read and write, and show her how to manage a household, and she will know everything a girl needs to know," he had always said. "No man wants a wife that knows more than he does."

But Anna von Laudeck had insisted on that issue -- and had won. Theresia's grandfather, who was a very clever, active man in his late sixties, had told his son that education was never lost, if a child was as clever as Theresia was.

"You do not hesitate to send your son to the best schools around here," he had said. "And, let me say so, he is not half as gifted as his sister is. He is a likeable lad, to be sure, and not stupid either....still, if Theresia were a boy, you would probably be very keen on letting her have the best schooling imaginable, along with her brother. Do not let her waste her talents just because she is a girl."

Theresia's uncle, too, had used his influence on his brother in Theresia's behalf. He was a priest, a Jesuit, and a University teacher in the nearest university town.

"I know a talented child if I see one," he had said. "Georg, the Lord has given your daughter her talents, and it is your duty as her father to let her be taught in the right way. I know a very good school..."

But there Theresia's father had refused. He did not want to send his daughter away to school, and especially he did not want to leave her to the influence of nuns, as his brother had indicated.
Though Georg von Laudeck was a deeply religious man, and though his own brother was a priest, he had never thought of a position in the Church for any of his children. Martin was his only son and heir, and his becoming a priest was therefore out of the question anyway. He had to marry and have children. As for Theresia -- the girl was sharp, and she was pretty. Her father would be able to give her a considerable fortune once she decided to marry. There was no need for her parents to bury her in a convent.

No, Theresia would have proper schooling all right, but she would not be sent away to school. This had been his decision seven years before, and the consequence of it had been that Theresia had had lessons in the basic things, such as reading and writing, along with the village children in the local school. Georg von Laudeck did not believe in snobbery, and in the country where he lived, it would have been regarded ill if he had -- every peasant was a landowner and as proud of his farm as Georg von Laudeck was of his castle. Here, no one was accepted merely because of his rank.

As for the more unusual subjects, like music, languages, history, etc., Georg von Laudeck had engaged the local curate, who taught Theresia everything he knew -- as did Theresia's own mother, if she had the time. However, it seemed that Theresia's knowledge had outgrown the little town where she had spent her childhood. Here, there was nothing left for her to learn.

It was Theresia's musical talent, especially, that had made Anna von Laudeck consider sending her daughter to Vienna. There were so many important people there, and excellent musicians. Theresia had a very pretty voice that could do with some refinement. She was able to play the pianoforte very well, better than her teacher did. Even he had to admit that it was so. Vienna would do Theresia good.

Besides, living there would do wonders for Theresia's manners. She had grown up among the local children as one of them, and therefore her behaviour did not always suit a young lady belonging to one of the oldest families in the country. Theresia just did not care what others might think of her. She had not yet found out that the impression one made on other people was important.

Anna von Laudeck sighed. It was about time for Theresia to get to know her mother's plans. No doubt it would be difficult for Theresia to accept the fact that she had to go.

*****

"You want to get rid of me," was Theresia's first reaction on the news.

"This is nonsense, my dear, and you know it," Anna von Laudeck said, wearily.

"So why do you send me away if you do not want to get rid of me," Theresia asked, bitterly.

Anna looked at her husband, waiting for him to say something, but as usual in such cases he let her down. He was most ready to make decisions -- but this was where his responsibility as a father ended, obviously. Georg von Laudeck was not the sort of man to justify himself in front of his children. They had better accept his decisions as they were -- he never offered any explanation, and he would have no opposition. His word was indisputable law in his family. If he said that Theresia was to go, she had better start packing -- without asking questions.

"But why do you want me to go to Vienna? It is so far away...why do you not send me somewhere nearer, Mama," Theresia asked, with tears in her eyes. "What if I do not like it there? What if they do not treat me well?"

"Then you are most welcome to come home," Anna von Laudeck calmed her down.

"Yes, certainly," Theresia said resentfully. "Once I am there..."

She would have loved to cry, but she did not want her parents to see her. Her father would only tell her to stop those crocodile tears (he had no patience with anyone making an exhibition of their feelings), and her mother -- well, it would pain her mother.

"Theresia, I promise it will only be for a few months -- a year and a half, not more. You always said you wanted to see an opera. There are so many good theatres in Vienna; there is an opera house as well. You might meet people like Beethoven or Haydn in the streets. I am certain you will like it there."

"And I will be allowed to come back in a year and a half?"

"I promised you so, did I not?" her mother answered.

Theresia nodded. "May I go practising again now?" she asked her mother.

She had no intention of practising, but she wanted to get away before she burst into tears.

"Certainly. Off you go, my dear," Anna von Laudeck said.

Theresia got up, and walked to the door very slowly, restraining herself as always when she did not want people to notice how she really felt. But once outside, she started running. She ran downstairs, across the courtyard and up the staircase of the old part of the castle. No one lived there any more -- but somehow Theresia liked those old panelled rooms, and the Great Hall with the stone floor and the fresco paintings. She had sometimes practised her dancing steps there, where no one would watch, trying to imagine the festivities that might have taken place there, in the old days.

Today, she settled down in a window seat in one of the old parlours, and looked out of the window, tears running down her cheeks. From here, she could overlook the whole valley. One could not see much, however, at least not today. Thick fog was covering the ground; it looked as if the whole river, the towns and villages had been covered with white cotton, while the sun was shining brightly above.

"What is the matter, sister," her brother said, standing in the doorway. Without her noticing it, he had followed her upstairs.

"Leave me alone, Martin," Theresia answered. She was not disposed to speak with anyone at the moment.

"You mean you want to stay here and catch your death of cold sitting in this unheated room in the middle of February?" Martin asked.

"Exactly. At least then no one will have to bother with getting me to Vienna and back."

"Vienna?" Martin said, frowning. "Why do you want to go to Vienna?"

"I do not want to go, stupid," Theresia answered, angrily. "Mama said I have to go there. Tell me, what good will come of my going there? Is there anything I can learn in Vienna that I cannot learn here?"

"Oh, several things, I am sure," Martin said, grinning. "Of course you could also consider it as a sort of mission. To bring culture to the eastern tribes, you know."

Like many people in this region, Martin von Laudeck regarded the existence of Vienna and its inhabitants as a necessary evil. Everything was fine as long as everyone stayed where they belonged.

Theresia laughed. "Mama thinks I ought to go there to become a perfect lady."

"Not a Viennese one, I hope," he answered. "I have seen some of those -- believe me, you would not want to be like them. You know what? Go there and show them a Laudeck will never be trifled with. And teach them the basics of culture. Show them that, even if we live in the deepest province, as they choose to express themselves, we are still people to be reckoned with -- and as likely to make a good impression as anyone."

Theresia nodded. "I will," she said, sadly. "I have no other choice, have I?"

Martin grinned. "There, now. Come with me and get out of the cold. You ought to spend as much time with us as possible -- you will not see much of us for some time, I am afraid."

Theresia refused his extended hand, but she got up and walked out of the room with him. A girl still had her pride, after all, and one did not walk hand in hand with one's brother - or any other young man, for that matter.

*****

The von Hertenberg family were gathered at the dinner table. This was a good opportunity to get everyone acquainted with the expected change in their circle, Baroness von Hertenberg thought.

"I had an important letter today," she announced.

"Did you, Mama," Joseph, her eldest son, asked. "Important in what respect?"

"We are going to have an addition to our family soon," Baroness von Hertenberg said.

"Is that sort of thing announced in letters nowadays," Carl asked, with a grin.

"Carl," his father said warningly, giving him a sharp look.

"I am sorry, Father, this was intended to be funny."

"Well, you failed. It was not," the Baron answered. "Listen to what your mother has to say and stop that disrespectful talk."

Carl gave a short nod, colouring angrily, but not saying anything. He had not meant to be disrespectful, but he knew his father would never consider that.

"Is Aunt Macmillan coming for a visit," Joseph asked his mother. Aunt Macmillan was Baroness von Hertenberg's sister.

"No, it is not Aunt Macmillan," the Baroness answered. "It is one of your father's Tyrolean cousins -- Anna von Laudeck and her daughter Theresia. Theresia is to stay with us for a while. As we understand, her mother wants her to remain with us to improve herself."

"In short, they cannot handle their spoilt brat and want to get rid of her," Carl said. "If she were a boy, I'd know a good place for her to learn manners."

"That place does not seem to have done you much good, Carl," his father said. "If you are referring to the Academy, that is."

"Carl, I think it is most unfair of you to judge the poor girl before you have met her," Marie said, quietly.

Carl gave his sister an inquiring look. It seemed as if she was in favour of the scheme -- well, he could not blame her; she was alone most of the time. Certainly she was looking forward to having some other girl in the house...

"Perhaps you are right, Marie," he said, softly. "We will see what she is like."

Marie smiled shyly. "I think she will be rather nice," she said, hoping that she might be right.

"It is easy to be nice with you, Marie," Carl answered.

Theresia von Laudeck ought to be nice with Marie, or she would be in trouble, Carl thought. He was very fond of his little sister, and during the years he had developed some sort of protective instinct. He wanted to shield her from everything that might distress her -- with the effect that Marie looked up to him as if he were a knight in shining armour, while he was only a nineteen-year-old youth who had just finished his studies in military school.

"Anna von Laudeck and her daughter will arrive shortly before Easter," Baroness von Hertenberg continued. "She will stay with us for a month, and if everything goes well, she will leave Theresia with us."

"Shortly before Easter, you said," Carl said, sourly. "That probably means I will have to cancel my visit with Horvàth, right?"

"Did you plan to visit your friend Horvàth at Easter," Joseph asked his brother.

"So I did, but as things turn out, I will have to stay at home," Carl answered. "He ought to be used to it by now, anyway, so it will not make any difference to him."

Horvàth was Carl's best friend. They had been in the same class in military school, but had not met since their final exams. Horvàth had obtained a commission in a Hungarian cavalry regiment, while Carl had joined his father's infantry regiment -- contrary to his own wishes. He knew very well that no one would ever take him seriously as long as everyone believed that he was only there due to his Papa's interference.

Horvàth had invited Carl to visit him, several times. The first time, the visit had to be cancelled because Carl's mother had fallen ill, and he had not wanted to leave his home as long as his mother's health was so unstable.

The second time, his father had forbidden him to go -- he had not done well enough in his exams to suit his father's high expectations, and his father had pointed out that he ought to stay at home and study, instead of lounging about in coffee houses with Horvàth.

And now, this had to happen. Of all the inconvenient moments to pay a visit, the von Laudecks had chosen the worst one. This was not designed to raise them in Carl's estimation.

"Oh, I am certain your friend will understand," Baroness von Hertenberg said.

"So he will, I hope," Carl answered.

"He will have to," Baron von Hertenberg said. "The least thing you can do is to be here to receive our guests."

IV

They had travelled along the river. According to Theresia's father, this was the fastest way to get to Vienna, and it did not cost that much. Yet, it was not the usual way for travellers. The river was there for the transport of goods -- most people preferred to go on journeys with the post chaises, across the mountains. There had been exceptions, though.

When the old Emperor, Francis I, had died during his son's wedding festivities in Innsbruck, the Imperial family and their courtiers had travelled back to Vienna on the river -- with nineteen ships. Theresia's grandfather had once told Theresia how he had stood on the bank of the river, with his two little sons, to pay their last respects to their dead sovereign. And now Theresia, herself, had travelled along the river. Like a dead monarch, she thought grimly, and not feeling much better.

Her mother had done her best to keep Theresia's spirits up. She had told her everything she knew about the places they saw -- Kufstein, Rosenheim, which was already Bavarian territory, Passau, where the rivers of Inn and Danube merged, and then the places on the banks of the Danube, back in Austria. Linz, Melk, Dürnstein, Krems...and, finally, Vienna itself.

All in all, their journey had only taken them a bit more than a week. It had not been very comfortable, but still more comfortable than one might feel travelling on land. Theresia's first impression of Vienna was not very favourable. The city was loud, crowded and dirty. There were lots of people, most of whom she did not understand because they spoke so differently to what she was used to at home. Many of them did not speak German at all.

It was already in the evening, and Anna von Laudeck did not think that the von Hertenbergs would get a favourable impression of her daughter if she presented Theresia to them, as she was at the moment - tired, grumpy, and disappointed. No, it would be better if they delayed the first meeting until the next morning. So, after a porter had taken Anna and her daughter to a respectable inn where they would spend their night, Anna sat down to write a note to her husband's cousin to announce their arrival for the next morning.

She sent one of the servants to deliver the note, and then turned to Theresia, who was already clad in her nightdress and dressing gown, brushing her hair without much enthusiasm.

"Now, my dear, is it not beautiful here?"

"It is loud, it is dirty, and it stinks. I am not going to stay," Theresia answered, stubbornly.

"Oh, but of course you will, Theresia," Anna von Laudeck said confidently. "I know all this is very new to you at the moment, but you will see how soon you get used to living in town."

"I do not want to get used to it. I want to leave tomorrow," Theresia said.

"Now, we cannot really do that, can we," Anna von Laudeck replied, calmly. "The von Hertenbergs have been so nice as to invite us -- we have to stay for some weeks, at least. One does not snub people who have been so kind."

"I did not want to be invited, thank you very much," Theresia said.

Anna von Laudeck knew that there was no use in insisting as long as Theresia was in that foul mood. In that respect, Theresia was like her father. She would have no opposition. One could only hope that she would change her mind soon. Perhaps the von Hertenberg girl would accomplish that miracle. Anna hoped for the best.

*****

The next morning, Anna dressed herself and her daughter with even more care than usual. She knew that first impressions usually went a long way, and she wanted to make the best impression imaginable. Theresia did not like this at all. She had never liked dressing up, and had always scorned those girls who took the trouble. In her opinion, it was a waste of time. Being short and fat and plain, as she was, there was not much clothes could do to improve her looks. So why bother? She did not admit it, not even to herself, but in a way she envied those girls who looked pretty without making much of an effort. She wished to be like that as well, only, she was not. So, why bother?

Contrary to her own opinion of herself, Theresia was neither fat nor plain. It was true, she was rather small for her age, and she was a bit plump -- but far from being fat. As for her imagined plainness, no one could see it but she herself. Theresia had beautiful blonde hair, and her big dark eyes made an interesting contrast. She was only thirteen, of course, but there were many people who said that, by sixteen, she would be a beauty. Whenever Theresia heard of that notion, she laughed, and pretended not to believe one word of it -- although, she had to admit, she liked the notion of being pretty one day.

Anna von Laudeck gave her daughter a cheering look. "You look very nice, my dear," she said. "Have you got everything?"

"I have," Theresia said, her tone indicating that she did not much care.

They hired a cab and Theresia, for the first time, saw the town in broad daylight. She granted that some of the buildings were quite awe-inspiring, but on the whole she did not like the place. There were no mountains, for instance. How could one like a place without any mountains, and how was one to find out about directions? At home, it had been easy; all she had to know was that the river was flowing towards the east, and that they had lived on the Northern bank -- the sunny side. Here, there was no sunny side at all. The sun hardly reached down into the narrow lanes.

Finally, the carriage stopped in front of a large, square building. There were many windows facing the street, but there was not a bit of green around the place. No garden, no trees. How could people live like that, Theresia thought. Did they at least know what they were missing?

The servant opening the door nodded when her mother told him who they were, and asked them to wait in the hallway. The floor was marble, as was the large staircase leading upstairs. Not bad, on the whole, Theresia thought. Not as nice as cosy as our home, but it certainly looks grand. The servant, an elderly man, came back and asked them to follow him. He led them into a spacious salon, where the entire von Hertenberg family was gathered to receive their guests. While being introduced, Theresia had a closer look at them.

Baron von Hertenberg was a tall, dark-haired man in his fifties, she believed. It was hard to tell how old he really was, he certainly looked rather young, apart from some wrinkles about his eyes, and some grey hairs. But he had to be fifty at least -- Theresia's father had told her that his cousin was several years older than he was, and her father was forty-eight.

Baron von Hertenberg's wife, the Baroness, was certainly a very beautiful woman. She had light brown hair, blue eyes, and a lovely smile. Her voice had an agreeable, warm tone. Yet she looked a bit delicate. She was very slim, and her skin had the colour of alabaster. One could see the veins beneath her skin.

It was interesting to see the sons. One -- the eldest -- looked very much like his mother, and like his mother he greeted Theresia in a very kind and friendly way that made her feel welcome at once. The younger one was a picture of his father. He was tall, dark-haired, good-looking, and fully aware of it. He must be about Martin's age, Theresia thought. His welcome was rather short and, in Theresia's opinion, given rather unwillingly. He was polite, but icy. Theresia took an instant dislike towards him.

Then there was Marie...Theresia liked her straight away. Marie did not talk much, she sat next to her mother, watching every move of Theresia's, as if trying to figure out if she should dare talk to her or not.

Finally, Baroness von Hertenberg said to her, "My dear, why do you not show your cousin around a bit? I am certain it is not very entertaining for the two of you to sit here, listening to our grown-up talk."

Marie looked at Theresia, shyly, and said, "Do you want me to show you the house?"

Theresia was quite happy to get rid of the grown-ups for a moment. Away from them, she need not show her best behaviour, and could perhaps get Marie to talk a bit.

"I would love to see it," she therefore said, in a sweet tone, and after a short curtsey to take leave of her...well, what exactly should she call them? Uncle and Aunt? Cousins? ... She followed Marie out of the salon.

"I will show you your room first," Marie said, as soon as they had closed the door behind them. It was difficult to understand her. Marie spoke rather hurriedly and quietly, as if she were afraid that someone might hear her.

"It is upstairs, next to mine," she went on. "I hope you will like it ... I ... I chose it for you."

"Oh, I think I will like it then," Theresia answered. She made up her mind to be fond of Marie. She was a sweet girl -- not of the sticky-getting-on-everybody's-nerves sweet sort, but sweet. Theresia was sure they would get along very well.

Marie stopped in front of a door. "This is it," she said, and, pointing to another door to the right, "and mine is over there."

She opened the door, and they entered a large, airy room. The sun was shining in through two large windows, painting golden rectangles on the Persian carpet. Theresia went to look out of the window, and recognised the square she and her mother had crossed on their way here.
There was a beautiful parquet floor. Theresia thought it was actually a pity that the carpet was there as well, hiding it -- but then, she considered, it might be a bit cold in winter without that carpet...

The curtains matched the carpet in colour, as did the blanket on the four-poster bed. A large wardrobe dominated one side of the room, and a dressing table the other. There was a chest of drawers and a writing desk. A tiled stove, obviously meant for ornament as much as for its real purpose, was in a corner next to the bed.

"So..." Marie began, hesitatingly. "How do you like it?" She gave Theresia an anxious look.

"Very much," Theresia answered, giving Marie a radiant smile. "You have chosen very well -- I like light rooms. I think I shall like it here."

Hearing that praise, Marie blushed. "I ... I hoped you would," she stammered.

"It is larger than my room at home," Theresia went on. "And there is no panelling on the walls -- probably this is why it looks even larger. Is your room as beautiful as this one?"

"Well, I think it is...it is certainly as large as this one, all the bedrooms in this house are rather large...do you want to see my room?"

"If you do not mind, I would very much like to," Theresia answered.

Marie's room looked a bit cosier than hers, Theresia thought, but that could be attributed to its being inhabited -- Theresia was quite sure her room would be very much the same, once she had moved in...if she decided to stay here, that was.

*****

They ended their tour of the house in the music room. This room was a bit larger than the salon, and was called "music room" simply for the fact that there was a harp and a pianoforte in it.

"Mama said you were very musical," Marie said. "Well, I am not....my brother Carl is, he used to play the pianoforte when he was younger, but he does not any more. Mama sometimes plays, and Miss Grant, too ... Miss Grant is my governess, you will meet her tonight. I like to listen to music very much, I only cannot sing or play myself. I am afraid I have inherited Papa's musical talent, he says he is as musical as a stick."

Theresia laughed. "Never mind, Marie," she said. "There are more important things in life than being able to play and sing. You showed me the drawings in your room and said they were yours -- you can be quite certain I will never be as good at drawing as you are, no matter how hard I try."

Theresia sat down at the pianoforte and struck some of the keys.

"Good instrument," she said. "I like the way it sounds."

"Will you play to me," Marie asked.

"Certainly. Anything in particular you would like to hear?" Theresia asked.

"Oh, I do not know really..." Marie said, hesitatingly. "I can fetch some of Mama's sheets of music, and then you can choose for yourself, if you like."

Theresia nodded, and Marie went to one of the cupboards, while Theresia started to play a short prelude out of her memory.

The door opened, and in marched Carl, giving Theresia a short look and then walking over to Marie to tell her something.

After having accomplished his task, he turned to Theresia, who was still sitting at the pianoforte, and said, condescendingly, "It seems you can play -- a bit."

Smiling sweetly, but with dangerously flashing eyes, she replied, "Well, this is what I came here for, is it not?"

"Keep practising then," he said. "You might turn out a useful piano player one day."

"And if you start practising soon, sir, you might turn out a gentleman one day," Theresia answered, calmly, looking right into his eyes.

Theresia had hit Carl's weak spot at once. He did not say anything more -- he did not want to start an argument with a thirteen year-old brat, after all -- and so he just turned on his heels and left the room, while Marie stared at Theresia in astonishment.

"My, we are a bit high-and-mighty, are we not," Theresia said, ironically, turning to Marie.

Marie felt that she had to defend her brother. "He is not usually like that," she said, "believe me. He can be very nice...he is always very kind to me...perhaps he is still angry because he had to stay at home, instead of visiting his friend."

"Well, as far as I am concerned, I can do very well without his company," Theresia answered. "If he keeps behaving that way, he is in for trouble, I can promise as much. My brother is like that, sometimes -- and he regrets it every time. I pay my dues without delay."

"So I have noticed," Marie said, surprised at her own courage. "But you will get used to each other, I have no doubt. Now, we ought to go and dress for dinner."

"Dress for dinner?" Theresia asked. As far as she was concerned, she was dressed prettily enough.

"Yes, Mama always wishes us to change dress for dinner."

Theresia shrugged her shoulders. When in Rome...

"Let us go dressing, then," she said, indifferently.

While Theresia and Marie were busy exploring the house, Anna von Laudeck was getting acquainted with the von Hertenbergs. Joseph and Carl, the two sons, soon left their parents alone with their guest, which was a good opportunity for them to start discussing Theresia's education with her mother.

"What exactly are your plans for your daughter, Madam," Baron von Hertenberg asked.

"My plans...well, first of all, she needs a good music master. This is the main reason why I wanted her to come here," Anna von Laudeck answered. "As I already mentioned, Theresia is a very talented piano player, and I would also want her to develop her voice...have you heard of any good music teachers, Baron?"

Baron von Hertenberg laughed at the mere notion. "Madam," he said, "I never gave the matter much thought. My own children did not have any music lessons..."

"This is not true, my dear," his wife interrupted him, and turned to her guest. "My daughter's governess, Miss Grant, is very accomplished in playing the pianoforte, and I am sure she can teach your daughter. As for the singing -- did you know that Signora Giovanelli, the former opera singer, lives in Vienna? As far as I know, she does give lessons to gifted girls -- she chooses her pupils very carefully. Perhaps, with the help of a friend of mine, I might be able to arrange a meeting between your daughter and the Signora...with your permission, of course."

"Are you speaking of Lucrezia Giovanelli? I heard her once, when I was in Vienna years ago ...she sang the part of Susanna..." Anna von Laudeck said.

"Now we know where your daughter has her fondness for music from," Baron von Hertenberg said, with a smile. "I think it must have been the Giovanelli, yes. She was one of the favourites at the Court Opera."

"A Prima Donna if the world has ever seen one..." Anna von Laudeck said, thoughtfully. "But why is she teaching now?"

"She lives in rather...reduced circumstances now," Baroness von Hertenberg answered. "But she bears it very well. So, shall I ask my friend to get into action?"

"You are very kind, Madam," Anna von Laudeck answered. "I think my Theresia will be in the best possible care here."

"As for her usual lessons, I think it would be quite convenient if Theresia is taught along with our Marie," the Baron remarked. "Miss Grant is an excellent governess, as far as I can tell ... Marie has improved remarkably since she came here, did she not, my dear?"

The Baroness agreed. "You will meet Miss Grant tonight," she said to Anna. "I asked her to dine with the family -- which she does not do, usually. Usually, she dines in the schoolroom, by herself. If there are guests, Marie dines with her, too. I think Marie is still a bit too young to go into company much, and I am afraid she has no inclination to do so, either. I hope this will change when she gets older, and I must say I have great hopes in your daughter's influence as well. Theresia does not look like someone who is intimidated easily."

Anna von Laudeck laughed. "Not easily intimidated, but sometimes intimidating, I can tell you."

*****

At dinner, Theresia was seated next to Carl, a fact that gave neither of them much pleasure. Carl greeted Theresia politely, but otherwise ignored her -- he preferred to give his attention to Marie, and only answered Theresia's questions if he had to. Carl had not yet forgiven her for her remark that afternoon -- he was not in the habit of blaming himself if something went wrong, and regarded criticism as a personal insult. If he had to talk to a thirteen-year-old, he wanted it to be his own sister, at least.

His elder brother Joseph was too absorbed in his conversation with Miss Grant to pay much notice to Theresia, and so she was left to her own thoughts for as long as the meal lasted.

After dinner, the ladies retired to the music room. Miss Grant took the opportunity to talk to her future pupil.

"Who was your teacher at home, Miss von Laudeck," she asked.

Theresia looked at the young lady curiously. Miss Grant was pretty; she had fair, curled hair and grey eyes. There was something in her manner -- a certain softness that led Theresia to the conclusion that this lady would be easy to handle. If she decided to stay, that was.

"I had several teachers, Miss Grant," she answered. "There was my mother, of course...she taught me needlework, and she also taught me French and Italian. I went to school with the other children in our village school...and as for the more scientific subjects, Father Francis came to teach me twice a week."

"Father Francis ... I see. Now, what did he teach you, Miss von Laudeck?"

"History ... a bit of Latin -- not much, I admit I was a very lazy scholar as far as Latin was concerned ... and a bit of natural science. He did not believe it was really worth the trouble to teach me a great deal of natural science, though, he said that a young lady ought to have other interests. It is a pity, really, it would have interested me. And then, I had my music lessons with him."

"Do you draw as well, Miss von Laudeck?"

"No, I do not. I tried once, but I was not pleased with the outcome. Neither was Mama, so I was allowed to devote myself to needlework and music instead."

Miss Grant could not help but wonder at the girl's blunt and fearless manner. There was not the least bit of shyness in her behaviour. She answered every question readily, without any delay, and without any intention to communicate anything more but mere facts. Not at all like a child, in a way.

"Will you do us the favour and play to us, Theresia," Baroness von Hertenberg asked.

"Certainly, Madam," Theresia said and seated herself at the piano.

"By the way, Theresia," the Baroness added, "I do not think we need to be on such formal terms with each other. Why do you not call me Aunt? I think this is the most suitable thing, do you not?"

Theresia was most ready to call the Baroness her aunt. She was very fond of her already, and since she had no real aunt, she did not mind "adopting" Aunt Hertenberg. And it did sound nicer than "Madam", indeed.

"Someone in this house must be very fond of Mozart. Aunt," Theresia said, while flipping through the pages of music.

The Baroness smiled. "I used to be very fond of his music -- I still am."

"In that case I know what I am going to play," Theresia said, smilingly, picked a sheet of music and started to play. Anna von Laudeck was proud to see the amazement in Baroness von Hertenberg and Miss Grant's faces. She knew that both the Baroness and her husband had been a bit skeptical as far as Theresia's talent was concerned -- they had probably believed that Anna, being Theresia's mother, had been led much more by her own wishes than facts. Now Theresia proved them to be wrong.

*****

The next day was Easter Sunday, and Theresia found herself in St Stephen's Cathedral for the Easter mass. She had never seen such a huge building before, and for the first time since she had arrived in Vienna, she admitted herself to be impressed. True, it was not as nice and cosy as the small church at home in her village, and she did not know anyone there, but there was so much to see that the service passed quickly -- even if the Bishop's sermon was rather long and boring. Certainly bishops were not made in consequence of their qualities as preachers, Theresia thought, or her uncle ought to be a Cardinal by now.

When the service had finished, the congregation met again on St Stephen's square, the central square of the city. The von Hertenbergs met several friends, and Theresia bore with the necessary introductions with more patience than was in her nature. She would have loved to break away, only she had noticed that her cousin Carl had given her a rather sneering look, and so she decided to show her best behaviour to spite him.

He did not pay her any attention, though, but soon turned to his parents and excused himself, as he wished to "walk home with some friends". Probably that walk would lead them past some alehouses, Theresia thought contemptuously. And on Easter Sunday, too...some people just had no idea of propriety.

Anna von Laudeck, meanwhile, made the acquaintance of some of the von Hertenbergs' friends -- among them the lady who promised them to speak to Signora Giovanelli on Theresia's behalf, a Mrs. Kauffmann. They agreed to come to Mrs. Kauffmann's house on Tuesday to meet Signora Giovanelli there.

"But, to be fair, Mrs. von Laudeck," she said, regretfully, "I have to tell you that the Signora has told me lately that she does not intend to take any more pupils. So, I am afraid, she may not take the task of teaching your daughter in her own hands...but then she knows many good singers and might be able to suggest a teacher for her."

*****

Though Mrs. Kauffmann's house was not very large, it was certainly fine, Theresia thought. When she, her mother and her aunt arrived, a servant led them into a comfortable parlour. Two ladies were already there, one of them was Mrs. Kauffmann, and the other one was "the" Giovanelli. Theresia did not know her, she had never heard of that woman, but her mother had told her that Lucrezia Giovanelli had been a famous opera singer once. She was a petite woman, not much taller than Theresia herself, and her appearance crushed Theresia's idea of an "opera singer". She was not tall, and she was very slim. No one would have noticed her in the streets, Theresia was sure. Signora Giovanelli, though pretty, was not the sort of person to attract anyone's attention, one might believe.

Mrs. Kauffmann introduced Theresia to her friend, and Theresia curtsied and greeted the Signora in Italian. Signora Giovanelli gave her a puzzled look.

"I am afraid I do not understand you," she said with a smile. "Despite my name, I am not Italian, you must know."

"You are not, Madam?" Theresia asked. Now it was her turn to be puzzled.

Signora Giovanelli gave a good-humoured laugh. "No, I am as Viennese as one can be," she answered. "Lucrezia Giovanelli only used to be my stage name -- and since everybody knows me by it, I kept it up, even though I have not been on a stage for years."

"I see," Theresia said. "I am sorry, Madam, I did not know that."

"Of course not, I am sure nobody told you about it," the Signora answered. "So you want to learn how to sing, I have heard."

"I think I can sing," Theresia answered.

Signora Giovanelli laughed. "I do not doubt that," she said. "Anyone can sing. What I meant was, you want me to train your voice."

Theresia smiled. "If you can find the time, Madam," she said.

The Signora turned to Theresia's mother. "Your daughter is certainly not shy," she said. "I like that. Will you excuse us for half an hour? I would like to be alone with her, to hear her sing."

Anna von Laudeck gave a short nod, and Signora Giovanelli led Theresia out of the room into a smaller sitting room.

"There now," she said. "I would rather listen to you without anyone else around...so you will not be disturbed by your mother's expectations, or your aunt's curiosity -- and we need time to get acquainted with each other. Sing to me."

"You mean, anything?"

"Exactly. Anything you like. You will feel more comfortable if you sing something you like."

Theresia tried to think of something to sing...something impressive, perhaps...

However, she caught herself singing a simple folk song her grandfather had taught her when she had been little. Signora Giovanelli listened to her without commenting, only nodding from time to time, smiling to herself, then shaking her head, as if she was debating with herself whether she liked the performance or not. This disturbed Theresia, she was no more able to concentrate on her song, and broke off.

She looked at the Signora, nervously. What did she think? From what Theresia had heard, Signora Giovanelli was an excellent singer, and had been very famous once. Her opinion on anybody's singing was certainly something worth hearing. Somehow, Theresia was not pleased with her performance...she felt she had not been good enough.

"This was very nice," Signora Giovanelli finally said. "Your voice is certainly worth it -- there is a lot we can do for you, I think."

"Does that mean you are going to teach me," Theresia asked, incredulously.

"I would like to teach you," Signora Giovanelli answered. "Only, let me warn you, I am not a very patient teacher. I have no patience whatsoever with pupils wasting their talent because of laziness. If you want to learn from me, you will have to work hard. Do you want to start right away?"

Theresia smiled. "Why not?"

"Very well then. First thing I want you to do is to breathe in deeply. Then breathe out slowly, saying ssssssss..."

"What for?"

The Signora sighed. "I do not like it if my pupils ask questions like that," she said. "But, since it is your first lesson today, I will tell you why. Singing has a lot to do with breathing. You will have to find out how your body works -- your body, your voice is your instrument, and like any other instrument it needs tuning. These exercises will make you aware of your own body -- and this is very important. Do you understand?"

Theresia nodded, and obeyed. They spent the next half hour doing breathing exercises, and Theresia left Mrs. Kauffmann's house in a rather confused state. She had always thought she knew how to sing -- but now she knew that she was only at the beginning. There was a long way to go. At least Signora Giovanelli was willing to teach her -- she had told her mother that she would meet Theresia once a week for the lessons -- provided Theresia practised, that was.

*****

Theresia soon noticed that being in Vienna was not a holiday. Her mornings and afternoons were filled with duties -- first she had her lessons with Marie, and she found out that Miss Grant was not quite as easy to handle as she had thought at first. On the contrary, Miss Grant was a rather demanding teacher -- just as much as the Signora.

No matter how many tasks Theresia finished, there was always something new waiting for her. Miss Grant and Marie had decided to teach Theresia English -- a language that was quite new to her, but she was a fast learner. In comparison to French and Italian, English was relatively easy to learn, Theresia thought, especially if one had someone as patient as Marie to practise with. In the afternoons, Theresia had to practise her music. Two hours at the pianoforte, and about one hour of singing, which made her feel quite tired once the evening arrived.

On Thursdays, either her mother or Miss Grant took her to Signora Giovanelli's, where she spent two hours doing her exercises. Signora Giovanelli was well pleased with her pupil, but did not allow her to sing "something making sense" yet. They were singing scales, again and again and again, and Theresia started to think that she might never grow out of that stage of learning.

Like this, three weeks passed rather quickly, and Theresia dreaded the moment when her mother was to leave. She would stay for another week -- but what would happen after that? Theresia was not sure if she would want to stay here without her mother. On one hand, she had grown really fond of Marie, and her Aunt Hertenberg. She had met Signora Giovanelli, whom she adored, despite her drill-like lessons.

On the other hand, when her mother had left, Theresia would not have any chance to return home before she came back to pick her up -- and no one knew when that would be.

One day, about a week before her intended departure, Anna von Laudeck told her daughter that she had a "special treat" for her. She wanted to take Theresia to the opera before she left.

"They are going to perform the Magic Flute on Saturday," she said, "and I thought it would be a wonderful farewell present for you if we go there together."

"Please, Mama, do not talk of farewells," Theresia said, uneasily.

"We will have to face it, sooner or later," Anna von Laudeck answered. "So, what do you think, will you go to the opera with me?"

Theresia nodded. "But, Mama, do you really have to leave so soon?" she asked, in a tearful voice.

"Of course I have to," Anna von Laudeck replied with a cheering smile. "The menfolk have been by themselves for long enough. But you will not miss me too much, my dear, I am sure. You have made so many new friends, undoubtedly you will feel quite at home in Vienna before long."

"This is not the same, Mama," Theresia said sadly.

"Do you want to come home with me then," Anna von Laudeck asked.

"I am not sure," Theresia said desperately. "If I knew what I wanted, I could tell you, but I do not know..."

"Believe me, my dear," Anna said, "you will regret it if you do not use the chance to stay here and make the most of yourself."

Theresia sighed. "Perhaps you are right," she said. "But it is so hard!"

"The Lord knows you are right there," Anna said. "Just hold on to the thought that I will come and fetch you in a year and a half."

*****

The opera performance was one of the most beautiful things Theresia had ever seen. There were many people, dressed up in their best clothes, and then there was the music ... her mother had taken care to get a box near the stage, so that Theresia could watch the singers easily. As Signora Giovanelli had said, it was fascinating to watch a singer work.

The plot of the "Magic Flute" was not quite to Theresia's taste, but she became rather fond of Papageno, and she was impressed by the Queen of the Night. Would it ever be possible for her to sing like that? It seemed rather miraculous to her that anyone would be able to sing that part...

This visit to the opera made a lasting impression on Theresia. It was the first opera she had ever seen, and even if it had not been such a special occasion as a "farewell treat", Theresia was sure she would never forget it. Being in an opera box with her mother, her mother looking so incredibly elegant and beautiful ... for the first time Theresia had an idea of what it was like to be a lady.

*****

Two days after they had been at the opera, Anna von Laudeck took leave of her daughter. She was to travel back home by coach -- it was faster than going up the river again. Theresia had wanted to walk her mother to the coach, but Anna von Laudeck had not wanted her to do so. Saying goodbye to each other was painful enough as it was, for both of them, without waiting for the very last moment to do so.

The von Hertenbergs left them to themselves until Anna was about to go away. Theresia listened to her mother's well-meant advice, promised her to practise her music every day, to write regularly and to be a good girl altogether (whatever that meant).

Then her mother was gone, and Theresia suddenly felt deserted -- even with the von Hertenberg family to keep her company. True, they were relations, but they were not her family. She did not belong here, and if there had been any chance, Theresia would have run away -- only there was nowhere for her to go.

She swallowed her tears, as she always did, and retreated to the music room, where she spent the next two hours practising frantically. No one should detect her sadness, not if she could help it.
One year and a half was not so very long, after all. Those months would be over before she even noticed it. Then, when she would be back at home, things would go on as they had been before. She would go horseriding with her father and mother, hunting with her grandfather, and Martin would be...well, Martin. She only had to wait, and to keep busy to make time pass more quickly. One and a half years was not much.

A Fresh Breeze From The West - V

While Theresia and Marie were busy exploring the house, Anna von Laudeck was getting acquainted with the von Hertenbergs.

Joseph and Carl, the two sons, soon left their parents alone with their guest, which was a good opportunity for them to start discussing Theresia's education with her mother.

"What exactly are your plans for your daughter, Madam," Baron von Hertenberg asked.

"My plans...well, first of all, she needs a good music master. This is the main reason why I wanted her to come here," Anna von Laudeck answered. "As I already mentioned, Theresia is a very talented piano player, and I would also want her to develop her voice...have you heard of any good music teachers, Baron?"

Baron von Hertenberg laughed at the mere notion. "Madam," he said, "I never gave the matter much thought. My own children did not have any music lessons..."

"This is not true, my dear," his wife interrupted him, and turned to her guest. "My daughter's governess, Miss Grant, is very accomplished in playing the pianoforte, and I am sure she can teach your daughter. As for the singing -- did you know that Signora Giovanelli, the former opera singer, lives in Vienna? As far as I know, she does give lessons to gifted girls -- she chooses her pupils very carefully. Perhaps, with the help of a friend of mine, I might be able to arrange a meeting between your daughter and the Signora...with your permission, of course."

"Are you speaking of Lucrezia Giovanelli? I heard her once, when I was in Vienna years ago ...she sang the part of Susanna..." Anna von Laudeck said.

"Now we know where your daughter has her fondness for music from," Baron von Hertenberg said, with a smile. "I think it must have been the Giovanelli, yes. She was one of the favourites at the Court Opera."

"A Prima Donna if the world has ever seen one..." Anna von Laudeck said, thoughtfully. "But why is she teaching now?"

"She lives in rather...reduced circumstances now," Baroness von Hertenberg answered. "But she bears it very well. So, shall I ask my friend to get into action?"

"You are very kind, Madam," Anna von Laudeck answered. "I think my Theresia will be in the best possible care here."

"As for her usual lessons, I think it would be quite convenient if Theresia is taught along with our Marie," the Baron remarked. "Miss Grant is an excellent governess, as far as I can tell ... Marie has improved remarkably since she came here, did she not, my dear?"

The Baroness agreed. "You will meet Miss Grant tonight," she said to Anna. "I asked her to dine with the family -- which she does not do, usually. Usually, she dines in the schoolroom, by herself. If there are guests, Marie dines with her, too. I think Marie is still a bit too young to go into company much, and I am afraid she has no inclination to do so, either. I hope this will change when she gets older, and I must say I have great hopes in your daughter's influence as well. Theresia does not look like someone who is intimidated easily."

Anna von Laudeck laughed. "Not easily intimidated, but sometimes intimidating, I can tell you."

*****

At dinner, Theresia was seated next to Carl, a fact that gave neither of them much pleasure. Carl greeted Theresia politely, but otherwise ignored her -- he preferred to give his attention to Marie, and only answered Theresia's questions if he had to.

Carl had not yet forgiven he for her remark that afternoon -- he was not in the habit of blaming himself if something went wrong, and regarded criticism as a personal insult. If he had to talk to a thirteen-year-old, he wanted it to be his own sister, at least.

His elder brother Joseph was too absorbed in his conversation with Miss Grant to pay much notice to Theresia, and so she was left to her own thoughts for as long as the meal lasted.

After dinner, the ladies retired to the music room. Miss Grant took the opportunity to talk to her future pupil.

"Who was your teacher at home, Miss von Laudeck," she asked.

Theresia looked at the young lady curiously. Miss Grant was pretty; she had fair, curled hair and grey eyes. There was something in her manner -- a certain softness that led Theresia to the conclusion that this lady would be easy to handle. If she decided to stay, that was.

"I had several teachers, Miss Grant," she answered. "There was my mother, of course...she taught me needlework, and she also taught me French and Italian. I went to school with the other children in our village school...and as for the more scientific subjects, Father Francis came to teach me twice a week."

"Father Francis...I see. Now, what did he teach you, Miss von Laudeck?"

"History...a bit of Latin -- not much, I admit I was a very lazy scholar as far as Latin was concerned...and a bit of natural science. He did not believe it was really worth the trouble to teach me a great deal of natural science, though, he said that a young lady ought to have other interests. It is a pity, really, it would have interested me. And then, I had my music lessons with him."

"Do you draw as well, Miss von Laudeck?"

"No, I do not. I tried once, but I was not pleased with the outcome. Neither was Mama, so I was allowed to devote myself to needlework and music instead."

Miss Grant could not help but wonder at the girl's blunt and fearless manner. There was not the least bit of shyness in her behaviour. She answered every question readily, without any delay, and without any intention to communicate anything more but mere facts. Not at all like a child, in a way.

"Will you do us the favour and play to us, Theresia," Baroness von Hertenberg asked.

"Certainly, Madam," Theresia said and seated herself at the piano.

"By the way, Theresia," the Baroness added, "I do not think we need to be on such formal terms with each other. Why do you not call me Aunt? I think this is the most suitable thing, do you not?"

Theresia was most ready to call the Baroness her aunt. She was very fond of her already, and since she had no real aunt, she did not mind "adopting" Aunt Hertenberg. And it did sound nicer than "Madam", indeed.

"Someone in this house must be very fond of Mozart. Aunt," Theresia said, while flipping through the pages of music.

The Baroness smiled. "I used to be very fond of his music -- I still am."

"In that case I know what I am going to play," Theresia said, smilingly, picked a sheet of music and started to play.
Anna von Laudeck was proud to see the amazement in Baroness von Hertenberg and Miss Grant's faces. She knew that both the Baroness and her husband had been a bit skeptical as far as Theresia's talent was concerned -- they had probably believed that Anna, being Theresia's mother, had been led much more by her own wishes than facts. Now Theresia proved them to be wrong.

*****

The next day was Easter Sunday, and Theresia found herself in St Stephen's Cathedral for the Easter mass. She had never seen such a huge building before, and for the first time since she had arrived in Vienna, she admitted herself to be impressed.

True, it was not as nice and cosy as the small church at home in her village, and she did not know anyone there, but there was so much to see that the service passed quickly -- even if the Bishop's sermon was rather long and boring. Certainly bishops were not made in consequence of their qualities as preachers, Theresia thought, or her uncle ought to be a Cardinal by now.

When the service had finished, the congregation met again on St Stephen's square, the central square of the city. The von Hertenbergs met several friends, and Theresia bore with the necessary introductions with more patience than was in her nature. She would have loved to break away, only she had noticed that her cousin Carl had given her a rather sneering look, and so she decided to show her best behaviour to spite him.

He did not pay her any attention, though, but soon turned to his parents and excused himself, as he wished to "walk home with some friends". Probably that walk would lead them past some alehouses, Theresia thought contemptuously. And on Easter Sunday, too...some people just had no idea of propriety.

Anna von Laudeck, meanwhile, made the acquaintance of some of the von Hertenbergs' friends -- among them the lady who promised them to speak to Signora Giovanelli on Theresia's behalf, a Mrs. Kauffmann. They agreed to come to Mrs. Kauffmann's house on Tuesday to meet Signora Giovanelli there.

"But, to be fair, Mrs. von Laudeck," she said, regretfully, "I have to tell you that the Signora has told me lately that she does not intend to take any more pupils. So, I am afraid, she may not take the task of teaching your daughter in her own hands...but then she knows many good singers and might be able to suggest a teacher for her."

*****

Though Mrs. Kauffmann's house was not very large, it was certainly fine, Theresia thought. When she, her mother and her aunt arrived, a servant led them into a comfortable parlour. Two ladies were already there, one of them was Mrs. Kauffmann, and the other one was "the" Giovanelli. Theresia did not know her, she had never heard of that woman, but her mother had told her that Lucrezia Giovanelli had been a famous opera singer once.

She was a petite woman, not much taller than Theresia herself, and her appearance crushed Theresia's idea of an "opera singer". She was not tall, and she was very slim. No one would have noticed her in the streets, Theresia was sure. Signora Giovanelli, though pretty, was not the sort of person to attract anyone's attention, one might believe.

Mrs. Kauffmann introduced Theresia to her friend, and Theresia curtsied and greeted the Signora in Italian. Signora Giovanelli gave her a puzzled look.

"I am afraid I do not understand you," she said with a smile. "Despite my name, I am not Italian, you must know."

"You are not, Madam?" Theresia asked. Now it was her turn to be puzzled.

Signora Giovanelli gave a good-humoured laugh. "No, I am as Viennese as one can be," she answered. "Lucrezia Giovanelli only used to be my stage name -- and since everybody knows me by it, I kept it up, even though I have not been on a stage for years."

"I see," Theresia said. "I am sorry, Madam, I did not know that."

"Of course not, I am sure nobody told you about it," the Signora answered. "So you want to learn how to sing, I have heard."

"I think I can sing," Theresia answered.

Signora Giovanelli laughed. "I do not doubt that," she said. "Anyone can sing. What I meant was, you want me to train your voice."

Theresia smiled. "If you can find the time, Madam," she said.

The Signora turned to Theresia's mother. "Your daughter is certainly not shy," she said. "I like that. Will you excuse us for half an hour? I would like to be alone with her, to hear her sing."

Anna von Laudeck gave a short nod, and Signora Giovanelli led Theresia out of the room into a smaller sitting room.

"There now," she said. "I would rather listen to you without anyone else around...so you will not be disturbed by your mother's expectations, or your aunt's curiosity -- and we need time to get acquainted with each other. Sing to me."

"You mean, anything?"

"Exactly. Anything you like. You will feel more comfortable if you sing something you like."

Theresia tried to think of something to sing...something impressive, perhaps...

However, she caught herself singing a simple folk song her grandfather had taught her when she had been little. Signora Giovanelli listened to her without commenting, only nodding from time to time, smiling to herself, then shaking her head, as if she was debating with herself whether she liked the performance or not. This disturbed Theresia, she was no more able to concentrate on her song, and broke off.

She looked at the Signora, nervously. What did she think? From what Theresia had heard, Signora Giovanelli was an excellent singer, and had been very famous once. Her opinion on anybody's singing was certainly something worth hearing. Somehow, Theresia was not pleased with her performance...she felt she had not been good enough.

"This was very nice," Signora Giovanelli finally said. "Your voice is certainly worth it -- there is a lot we can do for you, I think."

"Does that mean you are going to teach me," Theresia asked, incredulously.

"I would like to teach you," Signora Giovanelli answered. "Only, let me warn you, I am not a very patient teacher. I have no patience whatsoever with pupils wasting their talent because of laziness. If you want to learn from me, you will have to work hard. Do you want to start right away?"

Theresia smiled. "Why not?"

"Very well then. First thing I want you to do is to breathe in deeply. Then breathe out slowly, saying ssssssss...."

"What for?"

The Signora sighed. "I do not like it if my pupils ask questions like that," she said. "But, since it is your first lesson today, I will tell you why. Singing has a lot to do with breathing. You will have to find out how your body works -- your body, your voice is your instrument, and like any other instrument it needs tuning. These exercises will make you aware of your own body -- and this is very important. Do you understand?"

Theresia nodded, and obeyed. They spent the next half hour doing breathing exercises, and Theresia left Mrs. Kauffmann's house in a rather confused state. She had always thought she knew how to sing -- but now she knew that she was only at the beginning. There was a long way to go. At least Signora Giovanelli was willing to teach her -- she had told her mother that she would meet Theresia once a week for the lessons -- provided Theresia practised, that was.

*****

Theresia soon noticed that being in Vienna was not a holiday. Her mornings and afternoons were filled with duties -- first she had her lessons with Marie, and she found out that Miss Grant was not quite as easy to handle as she had thought at first. On the contrary, Miss Grant was a rather demanding teacher -- just as much as the Signora.
No matter how many tasks Theresia finished, there was always something new waiting for her. Miss Grant and Marie had decided to teach Theresia English -- a language that was quite new to her, but she was a fast learner. In comparison to French and Italian, English was relatively easy to learn, Theresia thought, especially if one had someone as patient as Marie to practise with.
In the afternoons, Theresia had to practise her music. Two hours at the pianoforte, and about one hour of singing, which made her feel quite tired once the evening arrived.

On Thursdays, either her mother or Miss Grant took her to Signora Giovanelli's, where she spent two hours doing her exercises. Signora Giovanelli was well pleased with her pupil, but did not allow her to sing "something making sense" yet. They were singing scales, again and again and again, and Theresia started to think that she might never grow out of that stage of learning.

Like this, three weeks passed rather quickly, and Theresia dreaded the moment when her mother was to leave. She would stay for another week -- but what would happen after that? Theresia was not sure if she would want to stay here without her mother. On one hand, she had grown really fond of Marie, and her Aunt Hertenberg. She had met Signora Giovanelli, whom she adored, despite her drill-like lessons.

On the other hand, when her mother had left, Theresia would not have any chance to return home before she came back to pick her up -- and no one knew when that would be.

One day, about a week before her intended departure, Anna von Laudeck told her daughter that she had a "special treat" for her. She wanted to take Theresia to the opera before she left.

"They are going to perform the Magic Flute on Saturday," she said, "and I thought it would be a wonderful farewell present for you if we go there together."

"Please, Mama, do not talk of farewells," Theresia said, uneasily.

"We will have to face it, sooner or later," Anna von Laudeck answered. "So, what do you think, will you go to the opera with me?"

Theresia nodded. "But, Mama, do you really have to leave so soon?" she asked, in a tearful voice.

"Of course I have to," Anna von Laudeck replied with a cheering smile. "The menfolk have been by themselves for long enough. But you will not miss me too much, my dear, I am sure. You have made so many new friends, undoubtedly you will feel quite at home in Vienna before long."

"This is not the same, Mama," Theresia said sadly.

"Do you want to come home with me then," Anna von Laudeck asked.

"I am not sure," Theresia said desperately. "If I knew what I wanted, I could tell you, but I do not know..."

"Believe me, my dear," Anna said, "you will regret it if you do not use the chance to stay here and make the most of yourself."

Theresia sighed. "Perhaps you are right," she said. "But it is so hard!"

"The Lord knows you are right there," Anna said. "Just hold on to the thought that I will come and fetch you in a year and a half."

*****

The opera performance was one of the most beautiful things Theresia had ever seen. There were many people, dressed up in their best clothes, and then there was the music...

Her mother had taken care to get a box near the stage, so that Theresia could watch the singers easily. As Signora Giovanelli had said, it was fascinating to watch a singer work.

The plot of the "Magic Flute" was not quite to Theresia's taste, but she became rather fond of Papageno, and she was impressed by the Queen of the Night. Would it ever be possible for her to sing like that? It seemed rather miraculous to her that anyone would be able to sing that part...

This visit to the opera made a lasting impression on Theresia. It was the first opera she had ever seen, and even if it had not been such a special occasion as a "farewell treat", Theresia was sure she would never forget it. Being in an opera box with her mother, her mother looking so incredibly elegant and beautiful...for the first time Theresia had an idea of what it was like to be a lady.

*****

Two days after they had been at the opera, Anna von Laudeck took leave of her daughter. She was to travel back home by coach -- it was faster than going up the river again. Theresia had wanted to walk her mother to the coach, but Anna von Laudeck had not wanted her to do so. Saying goodbye to each other was painful enough as it was, for both of them, without waiting for the very last moment to do so.

The von Hertenbergs left them to themselves until Anna was about to go away. Theresia listened to her mother's well-meant advice, promised her to practise her music every day, to write regularly and to be a good girl altogether (whatever that meant).

Then her mother was gone, and Theresia suddenly felt deserted -- even with the von Hertenberg family to keep her company. True, they were relations, but they were not her family. She did not belong here, and if there had been any chance, Theresia would have run away -- only there was nowhere for her to go.

She swallowed her tears, as she always did, and retreated to the music room, where she spent the next two hours practising frantically. No one should detect her sadness, not if she could help it.
One year and a half was not so very long, after all. Those months would be over before she even noticed it. Then, when she would be back at home, things would go on as they had been before. She would go horseriding with her father and mother, hunting with her grandfather, and Martin would be...well, Martin. She only had to wait, and to keep busy to make time pass more quickly. One and a half years was not much.

© 2002 Copyright held by the author.

Next

Back To Novel Idea