The Wild Girl (43 page)

‘Sir,’ Wilhelm said, ‘you must know I wish to marry Dortchen.’

‘I’ll see you burn in hell first,’ Herr Wild responded, stumping towards them. His cudgel was raised threateningly.

‘Father, no!’

It was no use. Herr Wild caught Wilhelm a heavy blow across the shoulders. ‘Seducer!’ he roared. ‘Libertine!’

‘No, sir.’ Wilhelm staggered but rallied himself. ‘I assure you, sir—’ Another blow caught him. ‘Herr Wild, there is no need … sir!’

‘Father,’ Dortchen sobbed, ‘leave him be.’

He struck her across the face with his spare hand and she fell to the ground. When Wilhelm rushed to help her up, Herr Wild caught him a vicious blow across the temple. Wilhelm almost fell, only just managing to save himself. He pulled Dortchen up and tried to shield her behind him.

Herr Wild was beside himself with rage, trying to beat Wilhelm with one hand and drag Dortchen away from him with the other. Foul words poured forth from his lips. ‘Whore! Slut! Fornicator!’

‘No, no,’ Wilhelm said in great distress. ‘Please, sir … If I could just explain … I love her.’

This last comment enraged Herr Wild more than ever. He hit Wilhelm so viciously that he was beaten down onto one knee.

‘Go, go,’ Dortchen cried. ‘Wilhelm, please go. He’ll hurt you. He’s … he’s not himself. Please, Wilhelm, go.’

‘How can I go?’ he cried. ‘Dortchen, he’ll hurt you.’

‘No, no,’ she lied. ‘If you’ll just go, I’ll be fine. I’ll … I’ll talk to him. Please, Wilhelm, go.’

He lifted both arms, trying to protect his head from Herr Wild’s flailing stick.

‘Wilhelm, you’re making it worse,’ Dortchen cried. ‘Please, please, go!’

Wilhelm got to his feet and seized the cudgel from Herr Wild, then flung it away into the garden. ‘You’ll not hurt her,’ he cried.

‘She’s mine to do with as I wish,’ Herr Wild shouted back. ‘You have no right to tell me what I can and cannot do to her. Now, get out, else I’ll have you charged!’

‘Please, Wilhelm, just go,’ Dortchen said.

He stood, fists clenched, his breath coming in wheezy gasps.

She gazed at him imploringly. ‘Please.’

Wilhelm bent, picked up his hat, dusted it off and put it on his head. ‘If you insist,’ he said to Dortchen. Stiffly, he bowed to Herr Wild. ‘I assure you my intentions are honourable, sir.’

Herr Wild gave a contemptuous snort. Wilhelm went out the gate. As he shut it behind him, he said, ‘I shall call on you tomorrow, sir, so I can explain—’

‘Come anywhere near my house or my daughter, and I’ll sue you for an unprincipled seducer,’ Herr Wild snapped.

Wilhelm’s face was white, the bruises on his temple and cheek a livid red. He bowed to Herr Wild and then to Dortchen, and left.

‘I knew you lied,’ Herr Wild said. ‘I knew you had an assignation with your lover.’

‘No,’ Dortchen said. ‘He saw me pass by … He came to see if all was well.’

Her father struck her over the face again, as if lifting a hand to swat a fly. Dortchen fell at his feet, too sore and sick at heart to get up. All she could see was his boots, planted wide in the earth – and her sharp secateurs, glinting silver in the light.
I could pick them up and stab him in his black, evil heart,
she thought,
and we would all be free of him.

But her hand did not reach for them. She knelt, waiting for her father’s punishment.

‘Get up,’ he said. ‘Get in the pony trap.’

She obeyed, picking up the secateurs. Something wet trickled down her cheek. She put up her hand and touched it – she was bleeding.

They drove home in silence. Her father tried to master his breathing, but it came harsh and quick from his chest. Together, they unbridled Trudi and put her in her stall, then pushed the pony trap into the shed. Dortchen followed three paces behind her father as they walked through the autumn garden and into the kitchen.

Old Marie was kneading bread. She looked up as they came in the kitchen. ‘Bless me, my sweetling, what has happened to you?’ she cried, seeing Dortchen’s bruised and cut face. ‘Are you hurt?’ Hurriedly, she wiped her hands on her apron and came clucking forward, her fat arms held out to embrace Dortchen.

‘Leave her be,’ Herr Wild said. ‘She’s only got what she deserved. Dortchen, come.’

Numbly, she followed him down the hallway. She could hear Marianne screaming somewhere upstairs. Mia came clattering down the stairs at the sound of their footsteps. ‘Dortchen, thank heavens you’re home,’ she called. ‘The baby has the croup and I don’t know—’ Upon seeing her father, she fell silent and slowly backed away.

Herr Wild led Dortchen into his study and pointed at the floor. She fell to her knees.

‘Pray to your Father, God Almighty,’ he said.

She began to pray, a jumbled litany of half-remembered phrases and words. He sat in his chair, poured himself a large glass of quince brandy and watched her.

Then he got up and began to walk around her, so close that his long boots brushed against her breast. She recoiled. He chose a switch from the wall and flexed it in his hands, then whipped it through the air so it sang. Then he sat down again and hitched his chair forward so that his knees were set on either side of Dortchen’s face.

‘You disappoint me, Dortchen,’ he said. ‘Fornicating with your lover while your brother is missing and quite possibly dead.’

Dortchen looked up. ‘No, Father, I swear it wasn’t like that.’

He hit her hard across the face with the back of his hand. She ducked down, hiding her face in her hands, trying to protect her head. He put one heavy hand on the back of her neck, forcing her face even further down. ‘Pray for deliverance from your sins,’ he commanded.

Dortchen tried to lift her face, but he kept her head forced down. ‘Oh, Father, deliver us from evil,’ she gabbled. He struck her buttocks with the switch, cruelly hard, and she jerked forward involuntarily. Now her face was jammed into his groin.

‘More,’ he said. ‘Don’t stop.’

She kept praying, and he continued to strike at her buttocks, forcing her face lower and lower, till she could feel the hard pole of his erection next to her cheek, pressing against her through the woollen fabric of his trousers. His legs closed hard about her neck, holding her fast. He threw down the switch and seized her folded hands, pressing them against his erection. He began to move her hands up and down, crying, ‘Pray, pray!’

Her mouth was pressed hard against the taut wool, his knees holding her head in a vice. She squirmed to get away but he was too strong, too insistent. ‘Oh, God,’ she whispered.

‘Oh, God!’ he cried. He convulsed. She felt everything beneath her hands change, his pelvis bucking and twisting, the cloth of his trousers dampening against her mouth.

He pushed her away so violently that she fell to the floor. ‘You disgust me,’ he said, standing and turning away from her. He poured himself a large glass of brandy and threw it down.

‘You will never marry,’ he told her. ‘No one will want a little whore like you.’

She lay there, bewildered and frightened and ashamed.

‘Go on, get up – get out of here,’ he said. ‘Don’t you have work to do?’

She got up, wiping her hand across her mouth.

‘Don’t try to see him again,’ he said. ‘I’ll know if you do.’

Dortchen went out of the study and down the hall. Mia was waiting for her. ‘Dortchen, you’re finished at last. The baby is sick, and Louise beside herself. Won’t you come and help?’ Mia’s voice was cross and accusatory.

‘Yes,’ Dortchen said. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Your face looks sore,’ Mia said. ‘Did he hit you?’

‘Yes,’ Dortchen said, and spoke no more.

PRAYING

October 1812

It was late when Dortchen was at last able to drag herself to her bed. She was so tired that her eiderdown enfolded her like magic. She slept at once, despite the pain in her bruised buttocks and face.

A creak on the stairs roused her. All was dark. The house was deathly still. Somebody fumbled at her door. Slowly, it swung open and candlelight pierced the darkness. Her heart pounding in sudden dreadful fear, Dortchen squeezed her eyes shut.

She heard her father’s heavy footsteps, and could smell the reek of brandy and tobacco. He came and stood over her, breathing heavily. Then he sat on the edge of her bed. Putting the candle down on her clothes chest, he fumbled under the eiderdown. She felt his hand on the bare skin of her calf. Unable to help herself, she flinched away and cried out, then scrambled up and ran across the room.

‘Marie, Marie!’ she screamed.

Old Marie’s door opened and the housekeeper looked out, her grey hair hanging in a long, skinny braid. ‘Sweetling, what is it? What’s wrong?’

Then she saw the dark shadow of Herr Wild by the bed, the flickering candle behind him making him seem faceless. He was dressed only in nightgown, nightcap and slippers. ‘Sir,’ she faltered. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Nothing’s wrong,’ he answered, slurring the words. ‘Dortchen … She was … having a nightmare. Go back to bed.’

‘I beg your pardon, sir, but if Dortchen’s having a nightmare I’d best settle her down, make her comfortable again.’

‘No need. I’m here. I’ll look after her.’

Old Marie looked from Herr Wild to Dortchen, who was standing barefoot and shivering in her nightgown in the doorway. Dortchen looked at her pleadingly. ‘No need to worry yourself, sir. You go on back to bed – it’s too cold to be standing about here in our nightgowns.’

‘I was just … checking on her,’ Herr Wild answered. He picked up his candle and came unsteadily towards them, the brandy fumes preceding him.

The candlelight fell full upon Dortchen, who shrank away. She was very conscious of her unfettered breasts beneath the thin cambric of her nightgown, her bare legs and buttocks, the loosened mass of her hair.

Her father stared at her, and Old Marie took a quick step forward. ‘Goodnight, sir,’ she said.

‘Goodnight,’ he slurred, then he stumbled as he passed, so that for a moment his bulk was pressed against Dortchen, trapping her in the doorway. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, then heaved himself away.

Dortchen watched as the candlelight flickered down the stairwell and away, then she flew to Old Marie. ‘I’m sorry. I was so afraid. I didn’t want him—’

‘Shh,’ Old Marie said, taking her arm and leading her back to bed. ‘Don’t say it. All is well. Back to bed now.’ As Dortchen tried again to babble her relief and gratitude, Old Marie said, ‘Shh, don’t say a word.’

The next day, Old Marie was dismissed.

‘Twenty-four years of service, sir …’ she said numbly.

‘We need you no longer,’ Herr Wild said.

‘But where am I to go? What am I to do?’

‘I fail to see how that is my concern. The house is half-empty now, with most of our daughters gone and wed. What little work remains can
be done by Dortchen and Mia. I bid you pack your bags and be gone. And, I warn you, I’ll be counting the silver, so don’t think to steal from me.’

‘As if I would do such a thing,’ she answered in a hurt tone.

‘No need to be impertinent,’ he replied. ‘You may have till tomorrow to pack your things and make some plans.’

Old Marie turned to go. At the door, she turned back. ‘What about the money you owe me, sir? It’s been months since you last paid me.’

‘We’re at war, woman,’ he answered irritably. ‘No one has any coin.’

‘I’ll need the money I’m owed, sir,’ she replied.

Herr Wild sighed. Dortchen, hiding outside the door with Mia, heard him unlock his desk drawer and draw out his cashbox. A few minutes later, they heard the clink of coins. ‘That will have to do,’ Herr Wild said. ‘After all, have I not been feeding you for years, and at a time when food is more expensive than ever?’

Old Marie did not thank him. She came out and, seeing the two weeping girls, their hands pressed over their mouths, shut the door hastily. ‘Go! Go!’ she mouthed and shook her apron at them as if they were hens. The two girls fled down the hall and into the kitchen, with Old Marie following slowly behind.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Dortchen cried, as soon as the kitchen door was safely shut behind them all. ‘This is all my fault.’

‘No, no, sweetling,’ Old Marie comforted her. ‘It’s no one’s fault but that devil of a father of yours. Who can believe he’d turn me out into the street, after all my years of service? What shall I do? Where can I go?’

‘To Lisette, of course,’ Dortchen said. ‘Or Hanne. Either of them would take you in the twinkling of an eye. Hanne needs your help more, but will not be able to afford to pay you much. Lisette has all the help she needs, but she’d give you a home without a second’s thought.’

‘Then I’ll go to Hanne,’ Old Marie said. ‘I’d rather be where I’m of some use.’

‘Oh, Marie!’ Mia burst out into tears. ‘I can’t believe you’re going. How are we to manage without you?’

‘I’m right worried,’ Old Marie admitted. ‘I don’t like to leave you, and that’s the truth. I wish I could take you with me.’

‘We wish that we could go too,’ Dortchen said. A cold dreariness had dropped over her.

‘We’ll help you pack,’ Mia said.

Old Marie snorted. ‘What is there to take? I have nothing but the clothes on my back, my prayer and hymn books, and Mozart.’