The Noble Ladies' Orphanage

Chapter 12

All the way up the long stairs, Maria yearned for solitude. She didn't want to hear any more. She didn't want to feel anything. But something made her stop. Several sets of footsteps made their leisurely way across the marble foyer accompanied by her mother's coy giggle. The giggle made Maria shudder.

"If you think it's proper..." her mother's voice said.

"Proper? He's a relation," the Margrave said. From the top of the stairs, Maria could just see the Margrave raising her mother's gloved hands to his slack lips.

"Well, if you insist," her mother said.

"I do," the Margrave said. "It will do you good to get out and see people."

The margrave's beautiful young wife stepped silently toward the staircase and caught Maria's eye.

Maria turned her head away and tiptoed up the stairs, but her mother noticed.

"Maria," her mother called in her fake sweet voice, "Come say good-bye to His Highness and the Archduchess. They've invited us to dinner tonight. Isn't that thoughtful?"

Maria pressed her lips together as she descended the stairs. Taking her place next to Claudia, she curtsied to the Margrave, who nodded approvingly, and curtsied to his wife, who showed her sympathy in her eyes.

"If Maria isn't feeling well enough for an outing, perhaps she can come to dinner another time," the Archduchess said.

"Nonsense," Maria's mother said. "She's never looked better." Against her will, tears began to fill Maria's brown eyes, but the Margrave and her mother had already turned toward the heavy door the servants had opened. As soon as they turned away from her, Maria raced up the stairs and into her room.

The package contained three letters, one for herself, one for Claudia, and one for her mother. They were all written on the same coarse paper, not the kind of paper her father used for his normal correspondence. They were all sealed with red sealing wax and the Hapsburg seal he used for his official military correspondence. Maria ran her finger slowly over the seal, feeling the ridges and bumps in the cool wax.

Once she broke the seal, she knew she couldn't reseal it. She knew she wouldn't be able to hide from her mind whatever it was her father had written in the letter. She didn't know what to expect, but she hungered for some kind word from her beloved father. She felt as if a part of her was lost, and she hoped the letter could fill up the empty space somehow.

Maria sat down in an upholstered chair by her window so the filtered light would fall on her as she read. She took a deep breath and broke the seal carefully, trying to keep it as intact as possible. Just one piece of red wax broke off and fell onto her lap.

Dearest Darling Ree,

What I thought would be a quick trip has turned treacherous indeed. I may not make it back to you, my dear, and my only consolation is that I've been with you for most of your growing up years. You're nearly a woman now, and I know you have the strength you need to shape your own future. You have different sensibilities than your mother and sister. Your mother thinks she knows what's best for you, but you don't have to agree with her assessment. I hope you will always trust your own judgment, for I know that your judgment is solid and worthy. In fact, I hope you will lead your younger sister. Your mother will be successful in protecting Claudia from poverty, but she may not be successful in protecting Claudia from unhappiness. I learned long ago that unhappiness is as much a part of life as happiness, but it's possible to stretch the happiness out so it covers more ground than the unhappiness.

You have always reminded me of my mother. She died before you were born, so you never knew her. Her name was Margaret. She had that unruffled calm look you get when you escape in your mind.