Letters in the Grove Page 2

  Normally such questions put Gustav on immediate guard, but the inquiry came from such innocence he saw no need to keep his destination secret. “Home.”

  “Aye, home is always a wonderful place. Whether ye come from one resembling the byre or from a manse, home is where ye lay ye head.”

  Gustav smiled. The youngster obviously missed his own home. A romantic notion of one’s ancestral beginnings was a telltale sign.

  “Is there aught I can help ye with?”

  “Nay, unless you might fetch me a drink and a bite of food. Nights in the stable are cold and my belly is empty.”

  The youngster nodded and headed inside. He returned not much later with a filled plate and a mug of ale, the liquid sloshing over the side.

  Gustav ate his fill, watching the boy out of the corner of his eye. Saliva ran through the dirt and grime of the boy’s chin. Skin and bones, the boy was no doubt as hungry as he.

  Making sure to leave some of his food behind, he pushed the plate away and patted his still rumbling stomach. “Aye, that was fine eating, but I don’t believe I can consume another bite. Maybe you know of someone who might finish the victuals off for me? I hate to see food go to waste.”

  The boy nodded and grabbed the plate. It was clean before Gustav could blink.

  “Thank ye kindly, sir. I shall not forget it.”

  Gustav nodded and threw a coin in the boy’s direction. He caught it and grinned broadly.

  That night he lay in a fresh bed of hay. The boy shuffled his feet outside the stable door, keeping watch. With the price of food and a little extra coin, Gustav had purchased a measure of loyalty.

  As he waited for sleep, he pulled out a letter. This missive had come months ago and he’d read it multiple times. Rolling onto his stomach, he used the light of a candle to read the decoded words.

  My Dearest Husband,

  Oft times I remember how we met. I, walking through a dangerous section of town, and you, coming to my rescue like a knight in shining armor. I still remember the way my heart pounded against my chest. And the way it sped even faster at your gentle touch.

  Tonight I’m very tired. I spent the day helping Frau Becker do laundry. Her children are quite ill and I worry for them. The doctor seems at a loss for how to help. While she cleaned, I held the babe. It stared at me with such love and dependence. I wish…

  Religious leaders continue to bombard the city. Some say that the prince-bishop works to rid Augsburg of the Agreement. I, for one, see changes. Lutherans have come in and several Catholic monasteries have discontinued meetings. I do hope this will secure our religious future. Perhaps with the spread of religious freedom those in other countries will be safe and you will be allowed to return to home...

  Gustav didn’t finish the letter but rolled it up and returned it to his bag. Lying on the hay, he threw his arm over his eyes. Whether religious freedom reached France or not, he was returning home. It was time. His eyelids fluttered closed.

  Roused by sounds of active children, Gustav sighed. Max stood over him, gently nudging his side.

  “Time to rise. We must leave. The weather is holding, but I don’t know for how long.”

  Gustav rubbed his tired eyes and stood to his feet. The young boy from the night before held his hat in his hands. “I kept watch all night, sir. All your possessions are intact, I swear it.”

  Gustav smiled and affectionately patted the young boy’s head. The response was a grin of the greatest proportions. He dug another coin from his breast pocket and flipped it in the air. The boy missed, but shuffled through the hay until he came up victorious. He bowed with respect and headed into the front yard to help load the trunks.

  “I see you made a friend,” said Max, eyeing the boy warily.

  “I did indeed. As father used to say, ‘Coin makes the best friends.’”

  “Hmm, I agree.” He paused. “We mustn’t tarry. Olga and the children are loaded and ready to set out.”

  Climbing aboard the rocking wagon, Gustav let out a regretful sigh. He would have loved to take the young boy with him, giving him an asset as well as a companion, but alas, what would he do with a child when he arrived home? Teresa was a generous woman, but he couldn’t expect her to take in strangers he picked up along his travels, especially when he hadn’t seen her in two years’ time. No, it was best to leave the young man where he was for now. In the future their paths might cross again.

  Time passed and they reached the coast. Securing a vessel to haul them proved more challenging than expected. Prices were high, and by the time they purchased passage their purse was lighter.

  “We should have waited for another ship. That captain gouged us,” said Olga, a stiff spine the only indication of her anger.

  “Procrastination brings us no closer to Hans,” replied Max.

  “You do not think I’m trying to put off the visit?”

  Expressions of hurt flitted across his sister’s visage. Fear of her son’s dismissal had driven Olga to do many things, but stalling their journey was not one of them.

  “Max Schmidt! My opinion on this voyage does not mean I wish to delay seeing my son. In fact, I wish we could soar like a bird over the water. I wish my brother wasn’t determined to visit Caen and slow my trip. I wish a good many things, but wishing doesn’t make things happen.”

  “I only meant—“

  “I know exactly what you meant. I would suggest you go to our other children and leave me and Gustav atop so we can lean over the side.”

  Olga’s estimation was correct. Both of them spent the watery voyage heaving the contents of their stomachs over the railing.

  Collapsed together, Olga grabbed Gustav’s hand. “You do know what you’re doing, aye?”

  Gustav nodded, reeling as the contents shifted inside his gut once more.

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken. If anyone were prepared for what might come then it would be you.”

  Gustav wasn’t so sure. As they laid there on the shifting deck of the bobbing vessel, his stomach churned for more than one reason. Teresa was a God-fearing and loyal woman, but even with her letters of love a nagging worry of rejection tittered on the edge of his conscience. He’d quit sending money. His letters had been less frequent, as had hers. He’d flirted with beautiful women across Europe at various functions, all under the guise of being a spy for the Huguenot movement. Could he expect Teresa to accept him with open arms? What if she’d discovered his flirtations and made assumptions about his behavior without appropriate context? If that happened, his reunion might not be as happy as he’d hoped.

  The ship lurched and thoughts of home were surpassed as Olga and he hovered over the side once more.

  Chapter Three

  Teresa settled against the plush cushion of the decorative carriage. Gilded trim covered the sharp edges. Glossy wood formed the interior panels. The beauty of the vehicle faded as Victor’s words repeated in her mind. So the rumors were true. Gustav ran from his position and her. Tears coated her cheeks and she angrily swiped them away. The door opened and one of the guards entered. Fanning her hand in front of her nose, Teresa gasped for clean air. Victor’s minion was in desperate need of a bath. The perfume on her handkerchief did little to mask the odors.

  She held the cloth over her mouth. “Where is Victor? I demand to be released.”

  “Sorry, Frau Braun.”

  With the curtain pushed aside she gathered a breath of fresh air. Teresa sighed, fell back against the cushions, and worked to accept her fate. Whatever it might be. To calm her racing heart she tried to think positive. Perhaps she was going to be escorted to a fine home and invited to dinner. Or maybe she was destined to be sacrificed as a martyr for delivering coded messages. No matter the case, other than praying there was little she could do to change her situation, at least not at the moment.

  Rescue scenarios filtered through her mind. Gustav could ride in upon a white stallion, sword in hand, and demand her release. Pain ripped at her heart at the unlike
lihood of such an event. If she wished to escape, she would have to do it alone.

  The carriage cut a corner and slowed. Teresa lifted the drape and peeked outside. A carriage overloaded with baggage lay on its side. Articles of clothing and other wares littered the road and other drivers jumped from their seats and shouted curses at the driver at fault. Victor’s hired man peered out the window. Heart hammering in her chest, Teresa eased back and pushed open the carriage door. Escape seemed dangerous. Victor was bound to discover her and recapture her, which would make him more incensed than ever. A smile lifted the corner of her lips at the thought and she plunged into a darkened alley.

  Wheels squealed behind her. The footfalls of the foul minion echoed along the cobbled streets. Skirts squeezed tightly in her hands, Teresa scurried through a narrow passageway. The town was well-known to her. If Victor had thought to place her out of her element by having the coach go through the middle of the city then he had been sadly mistaken.

  Row upon row of dilapidated buildings came into focus. The one nestled in the extreme center was Teresa’s destination. She glanced over her shoulder. No one followed. The minion must have fallen behind. Wooden steps creaked beneath her slight weight as she ascended. Not bothering to knock, she pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside.

  The hallway was devoid of light. Candles and lamps had been snuffed out. By feel, Teresa proceeded, following the muffled sounds filtering from the back room.

  Her fingers grazed the door. Cracking it a hair, she peered inside. Two figures huddled by the window were looking into the street.

  “They’ll never find us here. Just let them try.”

  “No, they will never find us. This is a great place to hide.”

  “I agree,” said Teresa, interrupting the twins’ game of hide-and-seek.

  Two heads full of thick blond hair bobbed. Teresa didn’t want to discourage them in their game, so she pulled the door closed and continued up the darkened stairway. It seemed odd that the house would be so empty. Normally bustling with activity, the Orphanage of Displaced Kinder was oddly quiet.

  Her hand rested against the wall for support and the panel slid away. Stepping into the dark interior, a candle lit up.

  “What are you doing here? This isn’t the best time.”

  “Leonie, I need a place to hide.”

  “Don’t we all.” She quieted a restless child. “Caught you, did they? I told you that to pass messages for coin would give you naught but trouble.”

  Teresa sighed and ignored the chastisement. “Leonie, will you help me or not. I must find a place to hide, at least until Victor’s hired men have given up.”

  “Not Herr Wulf? You cannot mean to bring his wrath upon me? Is it not enough that I’m already sought by the law?” She wailed but just as quickly stopped. The air from her sighs almost blew out the candle. “I am just a poor widow woman with no means of support trying to take care of homeless children. Why does everyone bug me so?”

  Teresa held her laughter. “Leonie, you are hardly a poor widow woman. I dare say the last ten husbands you wedded still don’t know they weren’t the only ones. And I know well whose children you keep. Now, it would behoove you to allow me to stay until I’m able to escape.”

  The sound of Leonie shifting echoed through the hollowed section of the building. Why was the woman hiding? Perhaps another raid? Teresa felt sick. The woman had her own indiscretions. Hosting the illegitimate children of high-end officials was not a safe occupation. Using her facility to conceal Huguenot sympathizers and host Huguenot meetings could cause her even more trouble. Teresa waited and twisted the folds of her gown.

  “Oh very well, find a seat. I needed some adult companionship anyway.”

  ****

  Gustav cringed at the attention. Stuck in the middle of the main street in Augsburg, their trunks had toppled from the carriage and their contents strewed across the street. He stood with his sister and brother-in-law and absorbed the hurled insults of passing drivers. Maximilian swore in their native tongue, causing Olga’s face to morph ten shades of red.

  He bent to retrieve the baggage. Carriages halted around them. One door opened and a woman descended and took off in a run. A burly fellow followed, thrusting people aside as he hastened after her. Gustav shook his head and continued retrieving the fallen bags, allowing his mind to wander.

  The trip to Caen had been a total failure. Jean had refused to place him on any case that would help the Huguenot movement. Jean, however, was determined Gustav take a break. It had been his last opportunity to halt his trip to Germany and postpone his face-to-face meeting with Teresa. The fear of rejection continued to haunt him and he’d complained with little to no success about Jean’s decision. Jean had been adamant. If Gustav ever wanted to work for the movement again, then he would obey.

  Details settled, Gustav agreed to travel on with his family. Olga had refrained from commenting on his desire to run yet again from his marriage commitments. Perhaps he should remind himself of the good of returning. His wife would be at home, snug in their bed. He would walk in with his dashing swagger. She would jump to her feet, he would give her a kiss on the cheek, and she would prepare a feast. Once the meal was complete he would haul her to their bedroom to make up for lost time. Then he might pull out her letters and read them in her presence. The red hue that would dot her smooth cheeks would set his pulse racing and he would kiss her gently until she begged for—

  “Are you ever going to finish stacking? We need to get moving,” Maximilian bellowed from the second carriage.

  Gustav curbed his temper. Why was it that as they drew closer to home, Max became more controlling? Finished, Gustav jumped on the side of the carriage and held tight.

  The driver weaved through the crowds like an expert. Gustav wouldn’t have believed how much the town had grown had he not been seeing it for himself. Crowds parted like the Red Sea, and they drove through. It was like being in London. Couples surrounded by children covered the sides of the streets. Carriages filled with passengers ran the cobbled roads. Storefronts promoted new wares.

  It didn’t take long to arrive at the Schmidt family estate. Manicured, the yard flourished with green shrubs and cultivated flowers. Max beamed with pride as he stepped from the carriage. Olga followed close behind with the children.

  “I want out!”

  “No, me. I want to see.”

  This was their first visit to their native homeland, and Gustav couldn’t blame them for being excited. As everyone jockeyed for position, the servants scurried to greet them.

  “Herr Schmidt, welcome home. We have been expecting you.” The head servant bowed low.

  Max moved closer and assisted the man to a standing position. With his hands placed on his upper arms, Max pulled the elderly servant into an embrace. “It is good to see you, Herr Klein.”

  The servant beamed. “Aye, it is good to see you as well, Herr Schmidt. I trust your journey was comfortable.”

  Max nodded and discussed their journey. Younger servants busied themselves by emptying the carriage. Olga ushered the children inside the manse. Ignored, Gustav decided to walk the grounds. Around the back of the house was a beautifully landscaped garden. At one time a gardener had designed a trellis out of wood and planted a single vine at its base. Now it was full of bright green leaves. Thick and wide, the vine engrossed the wooden artifice.

  This one spot, out of all others, was most important to him. He lovingly ran his fingers along the splintering wood. Here is where he and Teresa had spoken their words of love, their vows to remain together as husband and wife for eternity.

  Fear rested in his heart. What if they were unable to rekindle their love? The secret Huguenot colony planned for Brazil was not something he was able to discuss in great detail, therefore the missives he sent were often filled with words of love and simple questions about their home and friends. Nothing of his secret life graced the pages. He had spent extra amounts of time reading poetry and honing his
craft of romantic writing. When she read his words he wanted her to wilt like a thirsting flower in a dry garden bed.

  In return, the flowing script of Teresa’s letters had been filled with answers to his questions as well as vivid descriptions of her actions. The words of love that graced the pages of each subsequent letter had intensified.

  Yet with all their words of love the feeling of growing apart remained. How had she truthfully fared when he could send no coin? Rote words of how he loved being the fire that warmed her had been comforting when he lived away, but now he stood on the same soil as her, and their impending meeting grew imminent. His fantasy was on the verge of becoming reality.

  A vein throbbed in his neck. He gnawed at his lip, tasting blood. It would not be long before he would have to go home. What would Teresa say when she saw him?

  Chapter Four

  Teresa slapped her gloves against the oak table. What a day! First to be followed, then kidnapped, then find an escape, hide out in an orphanage for hours, and finally return home unscathed. Adventures like this didn’t happen often, for which she was grateful.

  The house was empty. A servant, truthfully her only one, had left her only days before. Coin was tight. Work was hard to find. Gustav no longer sent funds and she’d had to find other means of acquiring coin, which is one reason she was in such a predicament. If she’d never offered to carry that first letter along with her love notes to Gustav then she wouldn’t be in this mess.

  Sitting at her writing desk, Teresa picked up a quill and dipped it in an ink well. She tapped the tip of the quill against the parchment and sighed. As tempted as she was to fall into her habit of penning a missive to her husband and begging him to return home, she just couldn’t do it. Those few notes that contained that message sat piled in a corner, never to be sent. What good would they do? Gustav was committed to his cause. She’d known this when they married. They would rarely be together, he’d said, and she had accepted her fate wholeheartedly. But now, as people her age surrounded themselves with children and she was the odd one out, she was changing her opinion.