We'll wander down...

Anna was very, very, very glad to be home. She had arrived home late last night, and slept till late this morning, as well. She'd scrubbed her face, finally getting the city grime off of her skin, put on an old workdress and almost felt like the old Anna again.

Now that she was awake, she'd spent most of the first day that she was home in her old workboots, a wide-brimmed hat, and an overcoat, traipsing down the old country roads, not disregarding mud puddles and regarding berry bushes.She felt as if she had not felt the sun on her skin in weeks.

Finally, she settled under a tree when the sun got too hot, and listened to the silence.

Whatever else Munich might be, one thing it wasn't was silent. Ever.

Martha waited next to the boys' exit after school.

Subtle little changes, not terribly noticeable to anyone save for her friends, had crept in over the past few months as Martha had recovered from her convalescence. Her figure, once scant and scrawny, had filled out, her skin had become clear and her cheeks rosy. She'd outgrown all her dresses, and now was wearing Anna's hand-me-downs, carefully altered by Frau Hoffmann.

But, of course, with her new figure came new worries. Frau Hoffmann was now making plans to take her to Munich to get fitted for her first set of corsets. At first, Martha had tried to protest, saying that she couldn't possibly wear them, but Frau Hoffmann had seen how Kurt Weller was with her. If Martha was to marry a boy of his obvious class and breeding, she would need every advantage that Frau Hoffmann could give her. Looking the right way, having the proper figure, and dressing properly would help her. Her manners were as elegant as one could ever want, and she had a certain sweetness that made people forgive any sort of lack that could be detected.

Martha did not want to go to Munich. Of course she wanted to see Anna, and she wanted to do the things that were requested of her.

But she was dreadfully nervous. Munich was such a big place, and she was half-afraid of leaving the village to go so far away, even if Anna's mama would be with her.

So now she waited for Kurt to come out...she needed to tell him that she would be away on Friday, anyway.'

Dearest Georg, March 13, 1893

Well, things are going rather well here, now that I am used to things. The girls I room with are quite dear to me and we've all grown quite close. Though I am missing you quite a lot and I still stare at the moon every night, I am glad that I am with the girls in this large, scary place.

Usually, on the weekends, I go and visit my sister Flora or Alexander, but sometimes I go home with all the girls to Judith's home. It's quite jolly there and we have such a nice time. And she's permitted to do so much, it's amazing. Sometimes she takes us all out to the cabarets, which is amazing and incredible! I sometimes have a small drink but I do not take absinthe, and nor do any of us. Judith's chaperon is an elderly woman of at least sixty with a desperate hearing problem, but she is armed with quite a formidable walking-stick as well as a strong head for Schnapps. She is simply amazing and I certainly would not want to cross her!

Anyway, we were at the cabaret the other night, and you would never believe who we ran into.

Bastian.

He was much the same as ever, and he asked after you. I told him you were wonderful, of course. And then Judith took over. The two of them bickered incredibly all the time we were there, but I think that Judith likes him, even though she said that he was “horrible and full of himself.” That doesn't explain why she danced with him three times!

I, of course, danced with Flora all night, and missed you, of course, but I still had a lovely time.

School is going quite well. I'm quite glad I have all these girls to help me with my work, especially since they're all older than me and went through the course of study before. It's also a good thing because I tend to fret so much about my schoolwork. Mama and Papa are paying for this, I'd better do well.

Piano and voice proceed apace. You'll be happy to know that Moonlight Sonata is progressing well and I've started some of the Goldberg Variations, and that I shall be working on a suite by Debussy after that. We still haven't figured out what I shall be playing for the recital. Voice lessons are a bit more definite. I'll definitely be doing some songs by Schubert and Beethoven. And heaven help me, I am more nervous about this than the piano! Madame is so very exacting.

So tell me of the news back home! How is school with you? And your lessons? I do miss your playing terribly, I sometimes dream I can hear you. Isn't that silly? But I do miss you so.

Is Martha doing well in school? I know Mama and Papa managed to get her re-enrolled, but I do worry so about her after everything that she's been through. Kurt seems to care for her deeply, and I do hope I'm not wrong about that. She looks so happy when she's with him. Oh, I miss everyone so very much.

I want to hear all the news. I am dying for news from home. Mama and Papa never seem to tell me what I really want to know.

My dress for the Spring Ball is nearly done. I hope that I shall look lovely for you. I cannot wait for you to come and see me, with Mama and Papa and everyone. Just to see you again, to speak with you. I ache for it, and my whole being just shakes to think of you here with me.

I cannot write anymore, I just want to see you so badly! And all of my news is spent for now.

Please write back soon, I cannot wait to touch paper that you have touched and written on as well.

All my love,

Anna

January 7th,1893

My dearest Georg,

I cannot believe I have already been here for a week! It has been such a busy time.

The trip here was long and tiresome. I was lucky that my sister was there to meet me, because the coach was terribly late, due to the icy roads. The Headmistress here is rather imposing but oddly, not at all frightening. She just...makes you want to try harder. Though she does call me Annaliese. I do dislike that greatly.

I room with three other girls, and each of us has a bed in a corner of a big room, with a big table in the center of the room for study. I am the youngest girl in the room. I’m rooming with another Flora, which amuses me, and Katherine and Judith. Katherine and Judith are both eighteen and Flora is seventeen. They’re all lovely and sweet girls, and I think I would be lost without them.

(Though I do think Katherine and Judith might be the death of me. Such things they say! I find myself blushing more often than not. But they all laugh at me and tug at my curls and call me their dear little sister.)

I must admit that I cried after I was in bed. Even though there were the other girls there, it still felt so dreadfully lonely, and I looked over at the stars and the moon, as I said we should do. But oh, Georg.

But there was so much do to and so many places to go that I could hardly find the time to be upset at any other time save for after I went to bed.

We rise at six to be ready for breakfast by seven, and from breakfast we go directly to first classes. I take both French and English before lunch, as well as dancing. After lunch, I have both piano and voice lessons.

I played ‘Moonlight Sonata’ for my teacher, and she told me that I was very good, especially for someone who has learned from a peer. She said to give her compliments to my teacher, and so I do. I’m so very proud of you. And proud of myself, too.

The vocal teacher is difficult and very harsh, though no one uses the ruler here, thank goodness. But she does not stand for wandering attention, and she’s very good, and very precise. She will have that correct note, thank you very much.

Thank goodness I break for tea after that, for I am about to drop. Next there are all of my maths, geometry and accounting and horsemanship. And then there is dinner.

Dinner is in silence. Indeed, we are all so exhausted that it’s a relief not to have to speak. They usually have a violinist or a harpist playing during the dinner hour and I have to fight to stay awake.

After dinner, there is studying, and after studying, there is lights out. I’ll cry for a little while because I need to release the tension of the day. I’m hoping that will lessen with time, but there is just so much to do during a day and I barely have time to think of anything else, and I must be very polite and very ladylike at all times and you cannot imagine what a trial it is.

But you mustn’t worry for me. I am being so very well taken care of, and very well-protected. I am never alone for a moment, and the teachers are good and also strict, but very kind nevertheless.

At the moment, I am staying with my sister and her husband, just till Sunday afternoon. It is so nice to have my sister here with me and so nice to be out from under the watchful eyes of the teachers. Though they are most kind, I always know that I must be on my very best behavior.

And so I write to you, my dearest friend, while I have my mind at rest and my time to do so. I’m hoping that I shall be able to write to you on Saturdays, while I have my time free.

So please, tell me all the news. I’m dying to hear of the goings-on at home. Tell me how you are and how your sisters are and your parents.

I think of you every moment I can, and I dream of when we shall be together again.

All of my Love,

Your Anna.

The road to Munich that dreary January day was long and tiresome. The idea of reading was quite out of the question, what with the dim light in the coach and the movement of the carriage to and fro.

( Read more... )

It was before dark. Martha had insisted on getting up and helping Anna get ready to travel.

Martha felt horrible for her. She was shaking so much that she could barely dress herself. Martha tied her corset off and Anna’s mama helped her dress and do her hair. By the time she was able to eat, she was a little better, but she didn’t speak much, and pressed a simple note for Georg into Martha’s hand before her father drove her into town.

“I...didn’t want to leave before giving him something from me,” she whispered to her. “Please give this to him, won’t you?”

“Of course, Anna. Everything is going to be fine.”

She shook her head, a tear making its way down her cheek. “No, he just...he worries so. And he frets and frets and you see how it goes with him. I worry for you too,” she said, touching Martha’s cheek. “I shouldn’t be going away,” she whispered.

Martha shook her head. She wished Anna didn’t have to go away but she was being obedient to her mother’s wishes. “You’re being an obedient daughter,” she whispered. “Georg’s parents will be pleased with that. It can only help you.”

Anna took a deep breath and dried a tear. “Yes...I know. I keep telling myself this.” She composed herself, closing her eyes and running her tongue over her lips. “I must be strong,” she said, nodding decisively. She reached for her hat. “Keep an eye on Georg, won’t you? Or talk to Otto about it.”

“I will, don’t worry.” She kissed her friend on the cheek. “I’ll make sure everyone is all right. You’ll write, won’t you?”

“Of course. I’ll write to you and I’ll write to my family. And Thea. And Georg, of course.” She pressed her lips together firmly for a moment, then took another deep breath. She was horribly worried. But she must be brave.

“I want to kiss my sisters goodbye,” she said softly.

They were still asleep, of course, and they wouldn’t remember her, but Anna came in anyway, and kissed their foreheads gently. Greta put her arms around Anna’s neck in her sleep, then rolled over against her sister, cuddling.

Anna stood there and shut her eyes, taking a deep breath.

And then she went to tell her father she was ready to go.

The letter to Georg reads:

Dearest,

I’m going now. I’m going to be just fine, don’t you worry one bit. Even if I know you will. I’m going to be just fine and I’m going to work very hard and I’m going to be the best wife you could ever hope to have.

I love you so much.

Your Anna.

Her hand was trembling a little, so the penmanship isn’t the best, but she did try.

Anna was leaving soon. Far too soon. Georg had tried to pretend that it wasn't happening. If he pretended hard enough, maybe it wouldn't happen. But Georg had never been very good at pretending, even when he was a small child. So his plan really didn't work.

And since it didn't work, Anna was going to leave.

It made his stomach ache just thinking about it.

He had to talk to her. Without the prying eyes of teachers or sisters or parents.

Bundling up, he walked over to the Hoffmann's and knocked on the door. It was good that he was wearing mittens, as he'd be picking at his fingers if he had access to them.

Oddly enough, this was not Father Kaulbach's favorite holiday. It was difficult to preach fire and brimstone while everyone was celebrating the birth of the Christ-child. Easter was better for fire and brimstone. And summer, when everyone's minds were on vain pleasures. New Year's was a good holiday for hellfire too.

But not Christmas. For Christmas everyone must remain happy and carefree. To try and make it be otherwise was a mistake that he had committed once.

He'd nearly lost his position.

Never again.

No, Christmas was not a challenge to preach. It was just too happy for Father Kaulbach. They did tend to bring in better offerings that day, though...

It has been such a long year, and so much has happened. And Marianna is now seventeen.

She didn't feel that she was a girl any longer. With her seventeenth birthday came the sure knowledge that Mother could not boss her around any longer, and Marianna wouldn't let her. Father was home and he was ever such an interesting conversationalist. Marianna had stopped her piano lessons but that didn't mean she stopped playing--now she just played whatever she liked. She didn't have to go to school any longer.

She'd spent a nice long Saturday with Anna, helping her finish her things for school. Secretly, she thought Anna a very lucky girl--she'd be out from under her parents' roof and she'd be learning so much--but she could also understand why Anna was miserable. She could tell that when Anna loved, she loved with everything that was in her, and Marianna wasn't entirely sure that going away from who she loved would be the best thing for her. But Anna was a good girl, and so she was going, though Marianna would miss her. Her Papa promised that they would visit. She'd be glad to visit her. Maybe she could even bring a note from Georg. It would be pleasant to be an envoy between lovers, after all.

And through all this, she said nothing of her own feelings. After all, that whatever odds there were, were against them.

Still, there was a basket delivered to the Lammermiers' doorstep on Christmas morning, containing a fruitcake heavy with fruit and rum, and a small package containing a linen handkerchief with Otto's initials embroidered on it. It's a very traditional girl-to-boy gift, and funnily enough, it didn't matter how much it cost.

To my friend Otto and his family at Christmas, with many happy wishes.

Love,

Marianna Wheelan

The garden was cold, but it was quiet but for the crunch of the snow-frosted leaves beneath Martha's shoes, and the air was cold but fresh after her convalescence.

Mama and Papa Hoffmann had somehow convinced the Headmistress to let her back into school, and she would be starting back after the holidays. It was hard for her to even conceive why they would let her back after everything that had happened but they were and Martha only hoped she would do better than she had done before. She would certainly try.

In the spring, Mama Hoffmann was going to bring her to Munich to visit with Anna's sister and brother and get Martha a corset of her own. And in the meantime, Martha was only to concentrate on schoolwork and becoming stronger. At least that is what the Hoffmanns told her.

It was so strange, not to be working from pre-dawn to after dark, strange to sleep for so long, strange not to see new bruises every day. Though her body was still not yet fully recovered and wouldn't for many months, she felt almost whole again. She wondered if she would ever be fully herself ever again, or if some part of her was forever buried in a corner of the courtyard of Ilse's house.

It did bother her, when she allowed it to. And she wondered when she would see Kurt again. He had said he would come to her. And she believed and trusted him.

But for now, she sat in the winter garden to read a little in the cold, fresh air, though sometimes, she would look off into the distance for a long time before coming back to her book again.

Anna started out of the little school house to head home. Now that she was turning sixteen and going to finishing school, the days she would be attending this school could be counted on her two hands. It was hard to realize, and it didn't make her very happy.

But to-day was her birthday, and she was sixteen. And she had her sisters (and Martha!) and her parents waiting for her, and Georg to walk home with...so she waited a little while for him to come out of the school house. She really hoped he did not have too much homework tonight.

Martha was standing at the horse corral, just watching the horses in their pen. She was feeling tired and listless, her body rebelling against her with the new life within her taking whatever energy she had left. She felt stupid and dull and lonely with her burden. And she was beginning to wonder if perhaps she should have just gone home and let her father kill her. Either way, here or there, her father had trapped her forever. She felt frozen in ice.

"Martha?" She looked over and saw Papa Hoffmann coming towards her.

"Hallo, Papa Hoffmann. I was just watching the horses," she said simply.

Ernhardt came over to stand at the fence beside her. "I see that you are. In a few months, would you like to learn to ride?"

Martha smiled shyly. "I think I would like that."

Ernhardt extended his arm to her so that she could take it if she wished. Martha did, smiling a little. The weather was chill and cold, and Papa Hoffmann's proximity was appreciated as they walked.

( the dark I know well... )

"You should be resting in your condition," Anna said worriedly. "You don't have to do this."

"Oh, but I want to! I want to help." The two girls were working on knitting things for Anna for when she went away.

Anna didn't want to go away. She wanted to stay here and help Martha feel at home. She wanted to make sure that she was happy and that Mama and Papa were treating her well.

"I wish I didn't have to go away," Anna murmured. Georg would be so unhappy and she hated to think of that.

"Oh, but you get to see Munich! And do it in a way that'll be safe...and no one will hurt you. I'd go with you, if I could...but I can't really do so." Martha blushed a little bit. "I wish I could," she whispered.

"Oh Martha." She reached over and touched Martha's hand. "But Kurt comes to see you. That must be a pleasant thing."

Martha's blush became deeper, and she looked troubled. "He...doesn't know, Anna. What happens when he finds out?"

"He'll understand. It's not your fault, Martha."

"But he won't even want to know me! How can I even countenance raising a child whose father I despise?" She folded her arms around herself. "I don't want it. I don't even want to see it."

Anna went to Martha and pressed her hand. "Oh Martha...please don't speak like that."

Martha shook her head. "I can't, Anna. I don't love it. I don't want it. No child deserves to feel that from its own mother." She shut her eyes and took deep breaths. "I'm sorry, Anna...I am trying."

"Don't think about it," Anna said. "Mama and Papa will help you...you won't be alone, no matter what happens."

She smiled softly. "I know. Your family has been very kind to me. I just...I don't want Kurt to hate me...but I can't find the words to say."

"You'll find them, Martha. And I don't think it'll be as bad as you think."

Martha sighed and began knitting again. Knitting always helped her relax. "I hope you're right, Anna. I really do."

Anna sighed. "I really, really wish I didn't have to go away, Martha. I want to be with you."

Martha managed a smile for her. "It's been nice having a sister. Especially one like you."

"Forever, Martha. You'll always be able to depend on me."

Martha felt a little self-conscious as she walked into the village from the Hoffmann's. She was dressed a little finer than she usually was, and her hair was down in public for the first time. She was unused to the stiffness of the material and she shifted a bit as she walked, but tried not to do it too much because she knew it wasn't ladylike, and she didn't want to embarrass herself or the Hoffmann's, who had been so kind to her.

It felt like everyone was watching her. Even if she knew it wasn't true.

It was the first time she'd really been to the village since she'd left home. She really hoped no one asked how her parents were.

It was nearing the wee hours of the morning when Enhardt finally drove his carriage home, and he was bone weary and felt as if he'd aged a decade or more in the past few hours, since Martha and Kurt had come through their door and he'd watched her world fall apart.

He dragged himself in through the door and headed up to the guest bedroom, where Kurt was staying, to put his cane within easy reach. He wasn't terribly surprised to find Martha sleeping in a chair next to his bed. The boy showed guts in defending her. Ernhardt liked that. He put the cane leaning gently against the side table and left quietly so that he wouldn't wake the two of them.

His wife was probably still sleeping in the room Martha had been using, so he went to wake her. "Darling...come to bed now."

"But...Martha..." She looked over sleepily toward the bed. "Martha?"

"She's in Kurt's room, sleeping in a chair. Leave her be."

Elizabeta sighed. "Is everything taken care of?" she asked.

"Thoroughly." He did not elaborate. It was not often that he was this angry. The man had fooled him for the better part of 20 years and Ernhardt did not appreciate being lied to. He had never had to evict a man and his sickly wife--who from all information, was as bad as her husband in abusing Martha--and he was heartsick at the thought. The man had fought to keep his daughter, but eventually had relented and signed the papers he'd brought with them, making Martha his ward.

"I have to find a new foreman," he sighed.

"You have many good men who have been waiting for their chance. Now you can give it to one of them." She stood up and linked her arm with his. "Come, darling."

He went where she told him to go, did not object as she got him undressed and into bed, and curled up beside him.

"I let Anna play at their house, Lizzie. I let her sleep there."

Elizabeta sighed. "Well, she evidently wasn't touched, or she'd have said...we'd have been able to tell something was wrong." She put her arms around him. "Martha is pregnant, Ernhardt. What will we do with her?"

He shrugged. "We'll keep her here and protect her. She'll rest and get healthy. What else can we do, Lizzie? She needs our love and acceptance more than our moralizing."

She folded her arms on his chest and leaned her chin on them. "I know that, dear. I just wish there were something else we could do. Some way we could make things easier..."

"Well...I think being here will be easier. It's got to be easier not to be beaten every day and..." Ernhardt had long prided himself on letting nothing faze him. However, this situation with Martha had taken him off guard with the sheer amount of depravity...

"Yes." Elizabeta cuddled against him. "What will happen next?"

He laughed a little. "With any luck, perhaps there will be a wedding."

"One can only hope."

Martha had been expelled. The schoolyard was abuzz with the news. Kurt had been worried over Martha quite often lately, and this didn't really help ease his mind. And so, after dropping his books off at home, he'd ventured off to her house. Perhaps it was a bad idea, but Kurt had never really been known for his good ideas.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.

Time had not healed much of anything, but there was only so much crying one could do. Besides, she only had a little over a month before she had to leave the village, and leave Georg. She wasn't entirely sure how she was ever going to deal with this, or how she would be able to function being so far away from Georg, so far away from her family and what was left of her friends.

So now she was going to try to concentrate on something else--and someone else. She'd have to tell him that she was going away to school, but hopefully she would have a little time with him before things had to be said.

She shouldered her school bag, containing math and piano music, and knocked on the door to the Zirschnitz's house.

December 5, 1892


Anna has been most secretive of late, has have her friends. One wonders, in this time of tragedies too close together, what they are scheming. It certainly cannot be anything pleasant, for Anna has been, if anything, even more miserable than before.

Ilse has grown into her position, taking Mother Schmidt's place. She has a kind and gentle personality and seems to enjoy being proprietress of the shop. It is good to see her accomplishing something, and she has a particularly good manner with children.

I only wish I could say something good about Martha. She seemed to be doing better, but when poor Wendla died, she seemed to decline again and she hasn't recovered, as yet. Anna is worried as well, that the girl will be expelled from school if she does not do better.

And I must say, I am worried. The girl seems to go about in a dream from which she does not seem to awaken. I shall have to speak to her at some point. After all, she is the daughter of our foreman, and families should be kept intact. I'd hate to see Martha go the way of Moritz or Wendla.

All the same, I am glad that Anna will soon be away from here, and hopefully she will soon become used to her new school. I know that I shall have to have Georg come to see her so that she does not become too unhappy. But at least there will be little chance of mischief while she is at the school.

Anna was doing her duty. Wendla would have wanted her to help. And so she was here, caring for her best friend's lover.

It didn't mean she had to like it.

But she dutifully lay her hand over Melchior's forehead every so often to make sure that his fever didn't rise, and pulled up the covers when he kicked them off. She dried the sweat off of his forehead upon occasion.

And tried very hard not to hate him. Or to cry.

Martha isn't going directly home today. She just can't deal with it right now. She's missing Wendla. And Moritz.

And she just wants to be Martha today.

She wants to be Martha at peace, unafraid. And she can't be that if she's home. So she decided to wander over to the boys' rope swing, even if it was getting a little cold for such things. She really didn't care at the moment. Anything was better than home right now.

And, she reasoned, it didn't matter how late she came home--the days ended the same, and so did the nights. She used to bounce back from everything much easier only a few months ago...but now her body just aches, and it feels as if the cold has settled into her bones.

So Martha swings gently, lazily, leaning her head against the rope, with a far-away look in her eyes. Her books are on the ground, scattered. Does it matter? No.

Not much matters at all, anymore. What's the sense in fighting? No one will listen, and no one will believe her. And no one will love her or want her, she's damaged goods. Maybe when Father kills her, she can have some form of retaliation.

Oddly enough, that thought cheers her.