The Ring (17 page)
Authors: Danielle Steel
Von Tripp was back in the car again a moment later with a small steaming bundle he extended toward her without words. Two fat bratwurst wrapped in paper, with mustard, and a large hunk of brown bread. She stared at it as he handed it to her, and then at him. What an old man he was. Like Ariana, he seldom wasted words, yet he saw everything; and again like her, there was a kind of sorrow in his eyes, as though he felt the world's pain in his own flesh, and now her pain as well.
I thought you might be hungry.
She wanted to tell him that it was nice of him. Instead she just nodded and took the bundle in her hands. No matter what he did, she couldn't forget who he was or what he was doing. He was a Nazi officer, and he was taking her home to pick up her things ' her things ' which things? Which of them was she to take with her now? And after the war, what then? Would she get the house back? Not that it mattered anymore. With her father and Gerhard gone, she didn't care. The thoughts and questions ran maddeningly through her head as they drove along and she took small bites from the bratwurst Von Tripp had bought for her. She wanted to devour them but she didn't dare. After living for so long on bread and meat scraps, she was afraid that she would be sick if she ate the pungent sausage too quickly.
Is it near the lake in Grunewald? She nodded. In truth she was surprised that they were letting her come home for anything at all. It was odd how suddenly she was no longer a prisoner.
And horrifying to realize that the house was theirs now. The art, the silver, whatever jewels they found, even her furs would be given to mistresses of the general, and of course there were all of her father's cars. His money and investments had been appropriated by them weeks before. So on the whole they were not unhappy with their profits in the deal. And Ariana she was merely an extra, a pair of hands to perform whatever work she could, unless of course she struck someone's fancy. Ariana herself had figured that much out. But she would rather have died than become the mistress of a Nazi. She would spend the rest of her life in their stinking barracks rather than do that.
It's there, a little farther down the road, on the left.
Ariana's eyes widened and once again she turned her head to hide her tears. She was almost home now ' ' the home that she had dreamed of so desperately in those dark hours, lying in her dark cell, the home where she had laughed and played with Gerhard and waited for her father to return at night, where she had sat and listened to stories for hours, as Fr+nulein Hedwig read to them by the fire, and where she had stolen glimpses of her mother so very long ago ' the home that now she had lost. To them. The Nazis. In seething hatred she glanced at the man in uniform at her side. To her, he was part of what they represented. Terror, loss, destruction, rape. No matter that he bought her food and had saved her from Hildebrand. In truth he was simply part of a terrifying whole. And given the opportunity, in time he would do the same things to her as the others.
There it is, there. She pointed suddenly as they rounded the last bend, and Von Tripp slowed the car as they saw it, as she stared at it with sorrow and regret, and he with respect and awe. He wanted to tell her that it was lovely, and that he, too, had once lived in such a home. That his wife and children had died in the house near Dresden during the bombings, that now he, too, would have nowhere to go. The schloss that had been his parents' had been borrowed by a general at the very beginning of the war, leaving his parents virtually homeless until they had joined his wife and two children at the Dresden home. And all of them were gone now. Dead beneath the Allies' bombs. While the general went on living at their castle, he had been safe there, as would have been Manfred's children, had his parents been allowed to stay.
The Mercedes Manfred was driving crunched along on the gravel, making the sound Ariana had heard ten million times before. If she closed her eyes, it would be Sunday and she and Gerhard and her father would be returning from their drive around the lake after church. She would not be sitting here with this stranger, sitting here in the rags of what had once been her dress. Berthold would be standing at attention. And once inside she would serve tea. ' never again ' She said the two words softly to herself, stepping down onto the gravel, staring up at the beloved house.
You have half an hour. He hated to remind her, but they had to be back, and those had been Von Rheinhardt's orders. They had wasted enough time on the girl already. Von Rheinhardt had been clear about Manfred's spending as little time as possible on the project and then hurrying back. ' and watch her! he had told him, lest she try to spirit something of value out of the house. Also, it was possible that there were hidden safes and secret panels, and whatever Manfred could discover would be of some help. They had already had teams, skilled in just those pursuits, go over the house, but nonetheless it was possible that Ariana would lead them to something more than they had already found.
Uncertainly, Ariana rang the doorbell, wondering if she would see Berthold's familiar face, but what she saw instead was the general's aide. He looked very much like the man who stood just behind her, but somewhat sterner as he stared down in horror at the girl in rags. He glanced from her to Manfred, the two men saluted, and Lieutenant von Tripp explained.
Fr+nulein von Gotthard, sir. She's come to fetch some clothes.
There was a brief further exchange between the two men.
There's not much left, you know, He said it to Manfred, not to Ariana, who was looking up at him in shock. Not much left? Not much, from four closets filled with clothes? How wonderfully greedy they had been, and how quick.
I don't think I'll be needing muck There were sparks of anger in her eyes as she stepped inside the front door. Everything looked the same, yet different. The furniture was in the same place, yet, intangibly, some quality of the house had changed. There were no familiar faces, none of the sounds of the people she and the house had always known. Berthold's aging shuffle, Anna's increasing limp, Gerhard's constant slamming and running, her father's dignified progress down the long marble hall. Somehow she expected to see Hedwig after all her devotion to the Party, surely they would have kept her on but even Hedwig's familiar face was not among those who stared at Ariana as she made her way upstairs. There were mostly uniforms hurrying in and out of the main study, and several more waiting outside the main salon; there were orderlies carrying trays of schnapps and coffee, and there were several unknown maids. It was like coming back in another lifetime, after everyone you'd known had long since died and another generation had repopulated all the places you had once loved. Her hand touched the familiar banister as she quickened her step and ran upstairs with her eternal shadow still behind her; Lieutenant von Tripp maintained a discreet distance, but he was always there.
She stopped for a moment on the first landing, staring at her father's bedroom door. Oh, God, what could have happened to them?
In there, fr+nulein? Von Tripp's voice was soft behind her.
I beg your pardon? She wheeled on him, as though she had just discovered an intruder in her home.
Is that the room where you are going to fetch your things?
I ' it ' my room is upstairs. But I'll have to come back here later. She had just remembered. But perhaps it was too late. The book may already be gone. Or maybe not. But she didn't really care now. With the loss of Gerhard and her father, and then the house, all was already lost.
Very well. We haven't much time, fr+nulein ' She nodded and ran up the last flight of stairs to the room where Hedwig had betrayed her, the doorway through which the officer had first walked. Hildebrand, with his arrogant gait, strolling into her sitting room as she prayed for her father's return. She pushed open the first door, and then the door to her own room, keeping her eyes averted from Gerhard's doorway across the hall. She didn't have time for nostalgia, and it would have caused her too much pain.
After a moment she hurried out of the room to find a suitcase in a storeroom above them, on the floor where the servants' rooms were, and it was there that she found her, the traitor, hurrying with bent head toward her own room.
Like a dart cast at the woman's retreating back, Ariana hurled the word. Hedwig! The old woman stopped and then hurried on, never turning to face the girl she had raised since birth. But Ariana would not let go of her now. In fact, she never would again. Can you not face me? Are you so afraid? The words a venomous caress, an invitation to drink poison, a machete concealed in a gift of fur. The woman stopped and slowly she turned.
Yes, Fr+nulein Ariana? Calmly, she attempted to face the girl, but her eyes were fearful, and her hands trembled on the stack of linens she had been taking to her room to mend.
Sewing for them, are you? They must be grateful to you. Just as we were. Tell me, Hedwig. No more Fr+nulein, no more respect, only hatred now; Ariana stood with her hands clenched, her fingers tensed like claws. Tell me, after you sew their clothes for them, after you take care of their children, if they have any, will you betray them, too?
I did not betray you, Fr+nulein von Gorfhard.
My, my, how formal. Then it was Berthold and not you who called the police?
It was your father who betrayed you, fr+nulein. He should never have run away as he did. Gerhard should have been allowed to serve his country. It was wrong for him to run away.
Who are you to judge that?
I am a German. We must all judge each other. So that was what it had come to. Brother against brother. It is our duty, and our privilege, to watch over each other and see that Germany is not destroyed.
But Ariana spat her answer at her. Germany is already dead, thanks to people like you; people like you have destroyed my father and my brother and my country she stood there with tears pouring down her face, then, unable to go on as her voice sank to a whisper "and I hate you all.
She turned away from her old nurse, stormed into the storeroom, and took a single valise in which she would pack her remaining belongings from the house. Silently, Von Tripp followed her back to her room and lit a cigarette as he watched her hurriedly stack sweaters and skirts and blouses, underwear and nightgowns, along with several pairs of sturdy shoes. There was no room for frills now. There were no in frills in Ariana von Gotthard's life.
But even what she was packing was of a finesse and caliber that was hardly suited to a life in an army barracks the skirts she had worn to school, the shoes she wore when she went to watch Gerhard play polo or walk slowly with her father around the lake. She cast a glance over her shoulder as she threw a silver and ivory hairbrush into the suitcase. Do you suppose they'll mind if I take that? It's the only hairbrush I have.
Manfred looked momentarily embarrassed and shrugged. For him, it was odd to see her packing. The moment she had walked into the main hallway, it was evident that this was where she belonged. She moved around with an assurance, an authority, that made one want to bow slightly and step aside. But it had been that way for him in Dresden, too. Their house had been only slightly smaller, and in fact even more impressively staffed. The house had been his wife's father's, and when he died two years after they married, it had become theirs. A handsome addition to the schloss he was to inherit when his parents died. So Ariana's life-style was not unknown to him, nor was the pain of her fate as she left home. He could still hear his mother crying, when she got the word that she would have to give up the schloss for the duration of the war. And how do we know we'll get it back? she had sobbed to his father.
We'll get it back, Ilse, don't be silly.
But now they were all dead. And the schloss would belong to Manfred, when the Nazis finally left it after the war. Whenever that would be. And now Manfred didn't really care. There was no one to go home to. No home where he would care to be. Not without them ' his wife, Marianna, and the children ' he couldn't bear to think of it as he stood there, watching Ariana put another pair of walking shoes into the bag.
You're planning to take up hiking, Fr+nulein von Gotthard? He used a smile to force the pain from his own mind. She had certainly packed a good supply of rugged equipment.
I beg your pardon? You expected me to wash out bathrooms in a ballgown? Is that what Nazi women do? Her eyes widened sarcastically as she threw another cashmere sweater on the pile. I had no idea they were so formal.
Perhaps they're not, but I doubt very seriously that the captain intends to have you scrub floors until the end of the war. Your father had friends, they will invite you. Other officers
She cut him off brutally with eyes of stone. Like Lieutenant Hildebrand, Lieutenant? There was a long silence between them and then she turned away, I'm sorry.
I understand. I just thought ' She was so young, so pretty, and there would be plenty of opportunity for her to do more than just scrub floors. But she was right and he knew it. She would be better off hiding in the barracks. There would be others like Hildebrand. Even more of them now that she was free. They would see her now, polishing doorknobs, raking leaves, scrubbing toilets ' they would see the huge blue eyes, the cameo face, the graceful hands. And they would want her. She would be accessible to them all now. There was nothing to stop them. She was helpless, not as much as she was in the fetid cell, but almost. She belonged to the Third Reich, a possession, an object, like a bed or a chair, and she could be used accordingly, if someone chose to. And Manfred knew that someone would. At the thought of it, Manfred von Tripp felt sick. Perhaps you're right. He said nothing further; she finished her packing and then lowered her suitcase to the floor. She had left on the bed one heavy brown tweed skirt, a dark brown cashmere sweater, and a warm brown coat, along with suitable underwear and a pair of flat brown suede shoes.
Do I have time to change my clothes?
He nodded silently and she disappeared. Officially, he was probably supposed to watch her, but he would have put neither of them through that ordeal. She was not a prisoner to that extent, that she had to be watched every moment. That kind of nonsense was what Hildebrand would have done, forcing her to undress in front of him while he drooled and eventually reached out to pull her toward him. Those were not the games that Manfred von Tripp played.
She returned from the bathroom a moment later, a solemn portrait in brown, with only her pale golden hair providing some sunlight on the somber scene. She pulled the coat on over her sweater and Manfred had to fight the urge to help. It was painful and confusing standing there beside her. He had to let her carry her own suitcase as well. It fought against everything he had been taught, everything he felt for this tiny, fragile stranger who was leaving her house for the last time. But he had already bought her lunch and saved her once from rape. He could not do much more, not now.
Ariana paused at the top of the last flight of stairs, glancing again at her father's door, and then at Von Tripp standing beside her. I'd like to '
What's in there? His brows knit uncomfortably.
My father's study. Oh, Christ, what was she after? Some cash he had hidden somewhere? Some treasure? A tiny pistol she could aim at an assailant's head, or even at his own as they returned to the heart of Berlin? Is it purely sentimental? Fr+nulein, that is the general's study now ' I really ought to '
Please. She looked so bereft and so helpless, he couldn't force himself to refuse. Instead he nodded slowly, sighed, and cautiously opened the door. An orderly was inside laying out a dress uniform for the general, and Manfred looked at him questioningly.
Anyone else here?
No, Lieutenant.
Thank you, well only be a moment.
She walked quickly to the desk, but touched nothing, then more slowly she walked to the window and stared out at the lake. She remembered when her father had stood there talking about Max Thomas, and then telling her the truth about her mother, and when he had stood there again the night before he left with Gerhard. If only she had known it would be their last parting '
Fr+nulein ' She pretended not to hear him, her eyes rooted to the still blue Grunewaldsee. We have to be going. And then, as she nodded, once again she remembered. The reason why she had wanted to come to the study. The book.
She glanced casually over the bookcase, knowing long before she reached it where it was, and the lieutenant watched her, hoping that she would do nothing desperate that would force him to report her or return her to her cell. But she was only touching one or two of the old leather-bound books that stood in such abundance in the bookcases of her father's room. May I take one?
I suppose so. It was harmless after all, and he really had to get back to his office in Berlin. But do hurry. We've been here for almost an hour.
Yes, I'm sorry ' I'll take this one. After looking at three or four, she settled on one, a volume of Shakespeare, translated into German, leather-bound and well worn. Manfred glanced at the title, nodded, and opened the door. Fr+nulein.
Thank you, Lieutenant. , She glided through it with her head held high, praying that her look of victory would not have her away. In the book she had taken from her father's bookcase reposed the only treasure that she still had. The diamond signet ring was there safely couched by Shakespeare, along with the emerald engagement ring. She slipped the book quickly into the deep pocket of her brown tweed coat, where no one could see it and where she couldn't lose the very last of what she had. Her mother's rings.
That and her father's book were all that she had left of her lost life. Ariana's head was filled with memories as she walked sedately down the long hall.
As she did so, the suitcase slapping heavily at her legs, rendering her a refugee where she had once been hostess, a door opened suddenly on her right and a uniform dripping medals instantly appeared.
Fr+nulein von Gotthard, how nice to see you.
She looked at him in astonishment, too startled to be repulsed. It was die aging General Ritter, who was now the master of her father's house. But he held out a hand to her, as though he had met her on the way to tea.
How do you do. She responded by reflex and he quickly took her hand, looking into the deep blue eyes, and then smiling as though he had found something with which he was very pleased.
I'm very happy to see you. She didn't suggest that he had no reason not to be. He was already the proud possessor of their house. It has been a very long time.
Has it? She couldn't ever remember meeting him before.
Yes, I believe the last tune we met you were, oh. ' about sixteen ' at a ball at the Opera House. His eyes glowed. You looked lovely. For a moment she looked absent. It had been her first ball. And she had met that officer she liked so much ' and that Father hadn't quite approved of ' what had been his name? I'm sure you don't remember it. It was about three years ago. She almost expected him to pinch her cheek, and for a moment Ariana felt sick. But she was grateful for the training that made her able to endure as well as pretend. She owed Hedwig a debt after all.
Yes, I remember. Her voice was flat, but not quite rude.
Ah, do you? He looked immensely pleased. Well, you'll have to come back again sometime. Perhaps for a little party here. He rolled the words from his tongue in nauseating fashion and for an instant Ariana thought she might throw up. She would die first. In fact, the prospect of death was becoming rapidly more enticing as she began to understand what really was to be her fate. She did not answer him. But the blue eyes shrank from him as he reached out and touched her arm. Yes, yes, I do hope we see you here again. We will be having lots of little celebrations, fr+nulein. You must share them with us. After all, this was your house. Is, you bastard, not was! She wanted to shout the words, but she only dropped her eyes politely, so he could not see the fury that raged in her heart.
Thank you.
The general's eyes shot a cryptic message at Von Tripp, and then he waved vaguely at the aide who Stood behind him. Remember to call Von Rheinhardt and tell him ' er ' give him an ' er ' invitation for Fr+nulein von Gotthard. That is if ' er ' there are no other invitations for her already. He was being careful this time. The last concubine he had added to his pack had been a woman he had stolen from right under yet another general's nose. It had caused a lot more trouble than the woman had been worth. And although this one was pretty, he had enough headaches on his hands just then. Two of the trainloads of paintings he had been waiting for from Paris had just been bombed. So this pretty little virgin was not quite the most pressing affair. Yet he would have enjoyed adding her to his other girls. He smiled at her one last time, saluted, and disappeared.
The suitcase was in the backseat, her head was held high, and the tears streamed down her face. She didn't bother to hide them from the lieutenant. Let him see. Let them all see how she felt about what they'd done. But what Ariana didn't see as she watched the house disappear behind them was that there were tears in Manfred von Tripp's eyes, too. He had all too clearly understood the general's cryptic message. Ariana von Gotthard was about to be added to the lecherous old bastard's harem. Unless someone else put in a claim for her first.
