The Wild Girl (16 page)

‘Well, Father, if you let us go to the ball at the King’s palace, we shall have a chance to meet someone apart from poets and impoverished scholars,’ Hanne said with spirit. ‘The King has collected many men of taste and influence around him.’

‘Bankers,’ Gretchen said. ‘Noblemen.’

‘I haven’t the money to spend on new dresses and furbelows,’ Herr Wild said. ‘The coffers are empty.’

‘That’s the beauty of this ball,’ Lisette cried. ‘It’s a fancy-dress party, Father. All the guests are to come in old-fashioned outfits.’

‘You know Mother never throws anything out,’ Hanne said. ‘There are boxes and boxes of things up in the garret. I’m sure we’d be able to find something to wear.’

His frown deepened. ‘I simply don’t understand why you want to go gadding about all the time. Home is best.’

‘Yes, Father,’ the sisters replied obediently, but all were trying to keep smiles off their faces. He had not forbidden them to go.

After the morning chores had been finished, Frau Wild and her daughters went up to the garret, which was piled high with chests, broken chairs, cracked chamber pots, a cobwebbed spinning wheel, chipped ceramic jars and an old box-bed that smelt suspiciously of mice. Lisette and Hanne wrestled one of the chests out and flung open its lid, pulling out old gowns of gold brocade, blue flowered satin and crimson velvet stripes. ‘How hideous!’ Gretchen cried. ‘Did you really wear all those petticoats, Mother? Look, it’s hooped. What a scream!’

‘Panniers were all the fashion,’ her mother replied, sounding wistful. She took one of the gowns and held it against herself.

‘You must’ve looked an absolute fright,’ Gretchen said.

‘I’m sure you were the prettiest girl in town,’ Lisette said.

Frau Wild smiled tiredly at her. ‘Not at all, I’m afraid.’

‘I’m sure Father thought so when he met you.’

‘Did you fall in love at first sight?’ Dortchen asked.

Frau Wild folded the gown and put it down. ‘Our marriage was arranged by our fathers. We did not meet until a week before our wedding.’

‘Did you like him when you met him?’ Mia wanted to know.

‘My feelings were of no importance,’ Frau Wild said. She sat down on a rickety old stool, one hand pressed to her chest. ‘He has always been a good provider.’

Gretchen had not been listening, holding one dress against her, then throwing it down and trying another. She had pulled the hooped petticoat on over her own slim muslin dress, then swayed from side to side so the
stiff hoops – which extended a foot to either side of her body – rocked back and forth. ‘How ever did you sit down?’

‘We didn’t, much of the time,’ Frau Wild replied. ‘Though it was possible, as long as you approached your chair backward and sat only on the very edge of it.’

‘How did you get through the door?’ Mia wanted to know.

Her mother smiled faintly. ‘Well, we had to go sideways, of course.’

The girls shrieked with laughter. Mia seized a floppy straw hat with a wide satin ribbon and crammed it on her head, while Hanne held the crimson velvet against her and waltzed around, knocking over one of the old chamber pots. ‘I can’t believe you used to wear all this,’ Lisette said, holding up a dress with waterfalls of yellowed lace from elbow to fingertip. ‘Look at all the frills and ruffles. Wouldn’t your sleeves trail in your soup?’

‘We thought it very pretty back then,’ Frau Wild sighed.

Röse had not joined the other girls rummaging through the chest. She liked to think she was above such worldly preoccupations. Instead, she was writing her name in the dust on a sideboard with her finger. ‘Are there any books in that old chest?’ she asked.

‘No, I’m sorry,’ her mother said. ‘Your grandfather was not one for books.’

Röse sighed. ‘I’m afflicted with illiterate forebears. Perhaps I’m adopted?’

Her mother shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not, Rösechen. It was my poor old body that bore the brunt of your birth, and I suffer for it to this day.’

‘I remember the day you were born very clearly,’ Gretchen said. ‘You bawled so loudly that all the windowpanes rattled and our neighbours thought we were slaughtering the pig.’

‘You’re the pig,’ Röse said disdainfully, and began poking through the dresser’s drawers.

Dortchen lifted a beautiful dress from out of the chest. Made of blue silk, it was sprigged with flowers and butterflies and worn over foaming white petticoats. She stepped into it and drew it over her own muslin. Lisette tied up the ribbons for her.

‘How ever did you breathe?’ Hanne asked, struggling to tie up the bodice of a brocade dress the colour of clementines.

‘You got used to it,’ her mother said. ‘It did mean you couldn’t walk too fast or dance too much.’

Another trunk was opened and riffled through. Hats were flung back and forth, and laughed over, and Gretchen and Hanne bickered over a faded silk shawl. Dortchen bent – as much as she could in the stiff bodice – and looked through the chest. She found, at the very bottom, a white wig resting upon a wooden head. Its hair was arranged high, with rolls of stiff curls over the ears. She lifted the wig out and put it upon her head. ‘I look like Marie Antoinette,’ she cried, whirling in front of an old spotted mirror. She looked quite unlike herself, like a princess out of an old tale, like a ghost.

‘I want it! I’ll wear that. I’ll look like a queen.’ Gretchen seized the wig and put it on.

‘But I saw it first,’ Dortchen protested.

‘You won’t be going to the ball anyway – you’re too young,’ Gretchen told her. ‘Oh, look, it’s perfect. I’ll be the belle of the ball.’ She spun in front of the mirror. With red spots of excitement burning high on her cheekbones and her large blue eyes sparkling, she looked very pretty indeed.

‘Oh, but Mother—’ Dortchen protested.

‘There’ll be other balls, my dear,’ her mother told her.

‘There’s no need for Dortchen to go to a ball,’ Herr Wild said from the doorway, startling them all.

‘Oh … but why?’ Dortchen blurted.

‘No need for all of you to be married,’ he said. ‘Someone has to stay and look after your poor old parents.’ Although he said it in a jocular way, his words still cut at Dortchen like a knife.

‘But that’s not fair,’ she cried.

His brows began to lower. ‘Come, now, that’s no way to talk to your father. Six daughters are altogether too many to try to settle in these uncertain times. No one should expect it of me.’

‘But … but what if I want to get married?’

He glared at her. ‘You’ll do as you’re told, Dortchen, and that’s the last I want to hear on the subject.’ He then glared around at his other daughters. ‘And keep your noise down. I have sick patients who expect some peace and quiet when they come to visit me.’

He clattered back down the bare wooden steps, leaving silence behind
him. Mia took off the floppy shepherdess’s hat and laid it back down on the chest. ‘I suppose I’m not permitted to go either,’ she said in a small voice.

‘You’re only twelve, Mia, of course you’re not going,’ Gretchen said.

‘But we’ll tell you all about it in the morning,’ Lisette promised.

‘And Mother’s right, there’ll be other balls, lots of them,’ Hanne said. ‘Aren’t they calling him the “Merry King” already?’

‘Well, I don’t want to go,’ Röse said. ‘Really, I do think you girls think of nothing but your own frivolous pleasure. I shall stay home and study my prayer book and keep poor Father company.’

‘I don’t want to go either,’ Mia said, not at all convincingly.

‘You’re just afraid no one will ask you to dance,’ Gretchen said. ‘And why would they, Mia? You’d stomp all over their toes and break them.’

‘I would not! That’s got nothing to do with it. I don’t want to go because I have better things to do.’

‘Like raid the pantry,’ Gretchen said.

‘Gretchen,’ Frau Wild said.

‘Well, I’m glad you’re not coming,’ Gretchen went on, ignoring her mother. ‘Rudolf said that we were invited because they had heard we were the prettiest girls in Cassel. No one would think that if they saw us coming in with a dumpling like Mia.’

‘No one would have invited you if they knew what a snake you were,’ Mia shot back, her round cheeks turning red and her blue eyes more protuberant than ever. ‘I hope no one asks you to dance and you spend the whole night standing against the wall with the other old maids.’

‘I don’t think that’s very likely,’ Gretchen replied smugly, twirling about so the long fringes of the shawl swung out. ‘I shall wear this dress’ – she pointed at the blue silk Dortchen was wearing – ‘and this hat,’ she said, pointing to the one Mia had taken off. ‘I bet the King himself dances with me.’

Dortchen began to struggle out of the blue silk.

‘Never mind,’ Lisette whispered, helping her. But, of course, Dortchen did mind.

MIRROR, MIRROR

December 1807

All was dark and quiet in the house.

Dortchen’s sisters had gone to the ball in high excitement, Frau Wild declaring she was quite worn out already and didn’t know how she was to get through the evening.

Dinner had been a silent meal, and afterwards Röse, Dortchen and Mia had helped clear away and wash up. Old Marie had tried to cheer them, but it was hard not to feel low and depressed when their sisters were having fun at a ball and meeting the King, while they were left at home.

Once, Dortchen would have planned on sneaking out. She would have hung a green scarf on the washing line that hung between her and Lotte’s bedroom windows, and put a note in the peg basket for her to find. Together, they would have crept through the dark town, muffling giggles and keeping to the shadows, all the way to the King’s palace. They would have crouched in the shelter of the woods, watching people dance past the long windows, music spilling into the night. Perhaps they might even have danced together in the moonlight, two girls in long white nightgowns, hair flowing unbound down their backs.

Instead, she went to bed.

With Mia lying asleep beside her, breathing quietly, Dortchen lay under the heavy eiderdown and looked out over the snow-heaped rooftops. The
moon was full, its face pockmarked with shadows, and the landscape of spires and chimneys and steep rooftops seemed strange and alien, embossed silver against black.

She heard footsteps on the stairs. Her body tensed. Heavy, slow footsteps, trying to be quiet. Those old wooden stairs creaked and groaned in protest with every step, however. Closer the sounds came, and then light probed under the door. The door handle turned and the door was eased open. Dortchen shut her eyes, pretending to be asleep.

The footsteps tiptoed across the room and Dortchen felt candlelight press against her eyelids. She did not move or even breathe. She could smell brandy and tobacco smoke. As her father bent over her, the fumes almost made her choke. She felt him pick up a tendril of her hair and tuck it behind her ear. For a moment his hand lingered on her, then he turned and went slowly away, the light receding with him.

The next morning the three eldest Wild sisters were full of news and importance.

‘You should see the palace,’ Gretchen cried, clasping her hands together. ‘King Jérôme has thrown out all of the Kurfürst’s ugly old stuff and ordered new furniture from Paris. It was exceedingly elegant.’

‘No wonder Father’s taxes are now so high,’ Lisette said.

‘You know what I heard? The King and his courtiers played leapfrog through the empty rooms before the furniture arrived. In their underwear!’ Hanne laughed out loud.

‘I was simply pestered with dance partners,’ Gretchen said. ‘My dance card is full. See? I’ve kept it. It’ll be a souvenir of the night I met my husband.’

‘I really do not think it was wise to dance the waltz twice with Herr von Eschwege,’ Lisette said.

‘Oh, pooh! He’s by far the best catch,’ Gretchen replied. ‘They’re a noble family, and besides, he’s rich.’

‘Gretchen, please, you should not speak so,’ Lisette said.

‘Why not? We all think it. I cannot bear all this hypocrisy. You’re just jealous because Herr von Eschwege only danced with you once.’

‘He asked me to dance again but I did not think it was wise,’ Lisette answered, colour rising in her cheeks.

‘So you say,’ Gretchen mocked.

‘Enough, Gretchen,’ Frau Wild said. ‘You must mind your tongue.’

Herr Grimm looked up from his newspaper. ‘I should think so,’ he said.

Gretchen pouted and looked sulky.

‘Tell me, Gretchen, what is a girl’s crown?’ he asked.

‘Modesty and gentility, skill, hard work and a love of labour,’ Gretchen recited in a bored voice.

‘No need to take that tone with me, young lady.’

‘Sorry, Father.’ Gretchen looked down at her plate.

Herr Wild looked around at his daughters, their heads bowed meekly. ‘You all would do well to remember it.’ He folded his paper, rose and went out of the room.

At once Gretchen revived. ‘You should have seen me, Dortchen. I had men fighting to bow over my hand. Some of them were very handsome. I met Ferdy Schmerfeld. He begged me for one of my gloves but Lisette will be glad to know I refused. His cousin is very important in the cabinet. And I met …’