Tempting Fate (90 page)

“He forgot who paid his wages and he was willing to take Maximillian’s word where he should not have.” She stopped. “It is not appropriate to be discussing this with you, Herr Rauch. Perhaps you will choose some other subject.”

“But I fear this is precisely what I have come about,” Helmut said with no trace of discomfort. “I have put it off as long as possible, but things have reached a state where certain matters must be cleared up. You understand that I have obligations to the Bruderschaft that I cannot overlook. Your brother thought he knew the extent of his responsibilities to us, but he conducted them, I am sorry to say, in a most lackadaisical fashion. I believe he thought that much of what we did was a game, or a pretense, such as one indulges in as a child, but he was quite wrong. There is nothing trivial about the Thule Gesellschaft and Bruderschaft. He could not grasp that concept. He felt the rituals were fancydress ceremonies designed to give us all a sense of our organization’s uniqueness, rather than the formidable focus of forces that they are. Had he ever been able to realize this for himself, he might have gone far with us. As it was, he did a number of foolish things, and attempted to make amends by removing himself from us.” Much of his social polish disappeared as he spoke, and the obsessiveness Gudrun had always found so alarming in this man once again became clear.

“He killed himself, Herr Rauch. Was it only for your convenience?” Her tone was no longer courteous.

“In large part, that may have been his thinking. He did not wish to embarrass us, or you, for that matter.” He finished the hot wine and set the tankard aside for the moment.

“If that was the case, he did not accomplish his goal,” Gudrun said, and got out of the chair. She pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders, but it could not thaw the cold within her.

“He did not understand: I told you that.” He watched her with something in his eyes that was not quite amusement.

“And for that, he should be what? forgiven? I don’t know if that’s what he wanted, but I do know that I will not be able to do it for some time. Have you come to tell me that the Thule Bruderschaft is not involved in his death? If you have, you’ve wasted your breath. It may not be sensible of me, but I cannot convince myself that his association with you was totally unrelated to what became of him. I am not blinding myself to his faults. He was self-indulgent and reckless, but he never became as irresponsible as he was after he became a member of the Thule Gesellschaft. He would come here, spouting the greatest nonsense and telling me that he had found one of the eternal truths. What could I say to him that would not cause an argument, and we already argued about too many other things.” She drew nearer to the fire, thinking that it needed more fuel.

“Such as money?” Helmut touched the leather case he brought with him. “That is one of the matters that must be cleared up between us, Frau Ostneige, and you will not find it pleasant, I fear. But nonetheless, it must be attended to, and if we can come to some agreement privately it will not be necessary to take the matter into open court, which I believe you would not like. There is so much that would be brought under scrutiny that would not be a credit to you or your brother.”

Gudrun stared at him, no longer capable of being horrified. She found her mind thinking of Maximillian’s suicide note, as if it had nothing to do with her, as if it were a footnote in a dull book someone else was reading. Maximillian had all but ordered her to marry Helmut Rauch. What had been wrong with him? Couldn’t he see the wickedness of the man, the malice in his face, the greedy shine in his eyes? How could her own brother, no matter what else he deluded himself into believing, wish her to ally herself and her name to a creature like this one, a member of a radical political party, and a disreputable occult organization? No matter how much Maximillian liked Helmut personally—and Gudrun was at a loss to comprehend their friendship—how could he delude himself so about his suitability as her husband? “I am not eager to go to court,” she managed to say when she realized he was waiting for her to speak.

“Of course not,” Helmut said, so confidently that Gudrun’s heart squeezed tight as a fist. “You’re a sensible woman, in your way. You will listen to reason and not resist a solution simply because it does not at first appeal to you. Once you see the advantages of a private resolution, you will want to cooperate with me, I am certain,”

“What have you in mind, Herr Rauch?” She loathed haying to speak to him this way: she wanted to scream at him, order him from the house, and tell him never to return. But she feared that he would take some action against her, whether in court or in some other way, and she dreaded what that action might be. She could not afford to hire a guard for her and Wolkighügel day and night, and she did not want to live in constant apprehension. There must be another way to deal with the man, she told herself. She could not stand the thought of catering to his whims.

“You are not very encouraging, Gudrun. That does not please me.” He picked up the tankard, saw that it was empty, and put it down sharply. “I might choose to hold that against you, if you prove to be recalcitrant.”

“What is it you want?” She folded her arms, holding her shawl against her like a bandage.

“In a minute. First, I must make it clear to you how matters stand.” He reached down for the leather case and opened it, drawing out an untidy bundle of papers. “You will want to look at these, examine them, to satisfy yourself that they are genuine.”

“What are they?” She made no move to take them.

“Notes from your brother. Go on. Look at them.” He waited until she had accepted the assorted papers. “You’ll find they cover a little period, not more than a year, but I don’t think there are more of them,” he said smugly.

“What are they?” she repeated, opening the first envelope on the stack, noticing that the handwriting was most certainly Maximillian’s. She had the note half-out of the envelope and was unfolding the paper when she heard Helmut speak.

“Promissory notes.”

The bundle dropped to the floor. “All of them?” she asked weakly.

“Yes. After the inflation was brought under control, Maximillian had very little of his own left, and so he had to use some other means of getting funds.” Helmut leaned back. “I would like a second tankard of hot wine, Gudrun. Do you think you could persuade your housekeeper to bring it?”

“Hot wine?” Gudrun said as if the words were in another language.

“Yes. I’m cold.” He paused for effect. “I know that is not exactly your fault, and that if you were not so short of money, this room could be quite comfortable. I have been here when it was. But those days are in the past, aren’t they? Unless there is money from somewhere.”

“You’re being most unkind,” Gudrun said with icy reserve. “You are aware that my husband’s illness and my brother’s habits have done a great deal to bring me to a very bad pass.”

“In effect, you are less prosperous than the peasants who keep farms around you. I took a little time to review your financial position before I came—what with having Maximillian’s notes of hand, you understand I was curious to know if there was the least chance in recovering any part of the money he owes the Bruderschaft.” He cocked his head toward the door. “The hot wine? I don’t want to have to ask again.”

Gudrun went to the door of the salon and called down the hall in a cracking voice, “Frau Bürste, Herr Rauch would like another tankard of wine.” She put her hand to her throat as if the words themselves had burned her as she spoke them.

“I will tend to it,” Frau Bürste said from the kitchen door, her face immobile with somber anger.

“Thank you, Frau Bürste,” Gudrun said, more softly.

“It will take a few minutes. I will make a little extra, in case he should decide he must have more.” She went back into the kitchen, but did not close the door.

“Very good of you, Gudrun,” Helmut said magnanimously. He was enjoying himself tremendously, and was able to admit that this time the exercise of power was sweeter than it had ever been before. His face became more animated as he spoke to Gudrun, pointing to the packet of letters on the carpet. “You were not aware of your brother’s promissory notes, were you? You thought that he had learned to handle his money with more care, I’d imagine. You thought that he had accepted your burdens and predicaments at last, and was willing to contribute what he could to keeping this estate running. What self-deception! Gudrun, you grew up with Maximillian. How could you believe he was willing or capable of such discretion?” He got out of the chair and retrieved the letters. “You would find these interesting reading, should you care to take the time to peruse them. It might be wise of you to do that.”

“You might as well tell me the total,” Gudrun said in a lifeless voice. She had waited too long, she thought. Wolkighügel should have been sold last year and the money used to find more modest housing for herself and Frau Bürste. Now the chance was past, and she would be without any resources at all. Her second cousin in Bremen had already said he could not afford to take her in, and her uncle in Kassel was an old man with little money himself. She had a great-uncle in Koblenz who had managed to hang on to a small estate, and it might have a place for her, even though it was only a farmer’s cottage. Jürgen had an aunt in Trier, but Gudrun had maintained little contact with the woman, and Jürgen’s brother Klaus had made only the perfunctory of offers to have her as a guest in his house. Why, she asked herself, had she refused Ragoczy’s offer to live at Schloss Saint-Germain as the estate keeper? At the time she had been horrified at the thought of giving up Wolkighügel, but now it seemed to weigh her down more heavily than the stone it was made of.

“Yes, the total.” Helmut grinned, relishing the moment. “The total, my dear Gudrun, comes to over fifty-two thousand marks.”

“Fifty-two thousand?” Gudrun echoed, her breath catching in her throat. “Are you certain?”

“Oh, very. I’d be happy to go over the figures individually with you, if that would make it any clearer to you. I will show you precisely what he owes, and to whom. Most of it is to the Bruderschaft itself, but about ten thousand of it is personal debts to Bruderschaft members.” He shook his head. “I have rarely seen such an obstinately profligate young man as your brother was. Maximillian had an uncanny optimism, and I doubt he ever realized that he could not hope to redeem these notes. I believe he had implicit faith in his own good fortune, and was convinced that he would always have enough money from someone, or something. He regarded Wolkighügel as his own, of course, and not yours.”

It took a moment for the implications of that remark to impress Gudrun, and during that time, Frau Bürste came into the room, bearing a large jug of steaming liquid.

“Herr Rauch,” she said with a frosty civility, “since you appear to be fond of hot spiced wine, you should find the contents of this sufficient for your needs.” She set the jug down in front of the hearth. “The embers will keep it warm,” she informed him, and turned away, giving Gudrun a concerned stare.

“I will manage, Frau Bürste,” Gudrun said shakily. “It is … Herr Rauch has brought me some … bad news.”

“Should I stay?” She asked it very quietly, but nonetheless, Helmut heard her.

“You need hot. When we have need of you, we will send for you.” Helmut was pouring hot wine into his tankard, and gave one lofty wave of the hand to dismiss her.

“Herr Rauch,” Gudrun said to him, “Frau Bürste is
my
housekeeper. If she is to be dismissed, then it is for me to do, not you. You are an uninvited guest in my home, and your friendship with my late brother requires that I treat you with respect, but it does not mean that I must tolerate your insolence.”

“These letters,” Helmut remarked affably, “say that you will tolerate anything I wish to do if you intend to remain here.” He lifted the tankard and drank. “Your housekeeper had better learn quickly.”

Gudrun stared at him, her pale face becoming pasty white. “Just what is it you have in mind, Herr Rauch?” She moved closer to her housekeeper, saying quietly, “Perhaps you had best leave for the moment. If this becomes unpleasant—as I fear it will—it might be wise for the conversation to be as private as possible.”

“You are being sensible at last, Gudrun,” Helmut said as he took his seat once more.

“I’m not,” she countered. “But you have been making such threatening remarks, I thought it might be better to listen to you alone,” She was still shocked by the fabulous amount of money Maximillian had promised.
If
he had promised it, she reminded herself darkly, all the while fearing that the figure was correct, for she could recall too many times when Maximillian had shown his belief that he was entitled to half the estate as well as the inheritance he had squandered.

“You’re cautious, Gudrun—”

“I would prefer you did not use my name,” she interrupted.

“But I want to.” He adjusted his necktie, although this was unnecessary. “You’re not thinking very far ahead at the moment. You don’t want me to believe that you are not willing to clear up this unfortunate situation.”

“If you know my financial position, you know that I can’t. I have not got anything near fifty-two thousand marks: I barely have two hundred that I can use to pay debts. My settlement is not large, but it is almost enough to keep us going here, with a reduced staff and one automobile.” She was determined to be blunt with him, in the hope that he would recognize the futility of her situation.

“I’m aware of that. I also know you have not increased the wages you pay either Frau Bürste or Miroslav in the last two years. You no longer have to support Otto, which is a saving, both in food and wages. But you are undoubtedly aware that inflation is on the rise again, though not as seriously as before. Your allotment from your parents’ estate cannot be increased, of course, but I am certain you’re cognizant of this.” He finished off the hot wine in the tankard, enjoying the glow of it as it spread through him.

“Then why do you bring these to me? Why not go to the court and insist that there be a settlement? This was Maximillian’s home and the court would uphold your claim. What do you want? You could take Wolkighügel, I suppose, and you’d find that it is expensive to live in. Does the Bruderschaft want it? Are you doing this for them?” Her voice rose and she had to clamp her teeth together to keep them from chattering. As it was, she trembled violently, though she was able to keep from crying.