Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

It didn't help that they had to perform again that evening, this time in the Palais Auersperg. Lena noted with considerable relief that the British delegation was absent. This time, they left the two younger boys at home. The others received strict instructions to stay away from any brandied cherries, in fact to not even get in the vicinity of the buffet.

"The growling of my poor, starving stomach will drown out the music," Theo said, and Mona agreed.

They came, they performed, they received a round of applause, and that was that.

The days were also smoother. Agent August no longer hovered in the dark corners of the street, and now that they had some income, Lena was able to hire a laundry maid. That took a considerable burden off her shoulders.

Their neighbour, Emma, helped whenever she could, and Karl came every other day with a box of leftover fruit and vegetables that he could not sell at the market. That morning, he'd dropped off a box of apples, so Lena was busy all day making apple strudel, baked apples, apple cake, apple compote, and, because there was so much left over, she sliced them thinly and left them to dry on a newspaper spread over the ceramic oven.

All the baking and cooking helped her clear her mind.

It troubled her, everything that had happened with the Duke. She was worried about Hector, who'd withdrawn and not been up to his usual pranks.

Yet, they lived their life in their usual routine, as if nothing special had happened.

The children had been playing a boisterous game of musical chairs in the warm parlour, with the addition that whoever lost had to pay forfeits by coming up with a short impromptu performance. These moments, when she felt the support and love of her family, where she knew that she would protect them at all costs were the ones Lena enjoyed the most.

Theo jumped on the table and performed the Schuhplattler , a shoe slapping dance, banging his head against the ceiling as he did so, leaving everyone howling with laughter. Mona performed a pantomime from a Greek tragedy, turning it into a comedy, and Lena acted out a scene from her favourite poem, Goethe's ‘The Erl-King', by attempting to be the elf king, the horse, and the child all at once. Hector, who had been in a terrible mood all day, picked a fight with Les because both insisted on choosing the same fable by Aesop. They ended up rolling around on the floor, wrestling with each other.

"Children, children." Lena sighed.

Theo intervened and separated the two by grabbing them by the collar and sending them straight to bed.

Lena stepped out into the front garden, fanning herself with her hands. Though it was late September, the month had been unusually warm. She inhaled the fresh evening air, leaning against the doorframe as she sought a moment of solitude. The quiet was a welcome reprieve, offering a chance to sift through the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that had consumed her in recent days. She had tried to push them aside, but the image of the Duke kept resurfacing. It was impossible to ignore.

She wondered if he was attending the Hofball tonight at the Imperial Palace, a grand affair of glitter and glamour. The papers were full of detailed descriptions about who might and who might not be there. Thousands of people were expected to attend. They said it was fashionable not to dance, even though it was a ball. She felt sorry for the poor musicians who'd have to entertain a crowd of people who did not appreciate the music.

A tall shadow separated from the chestnut tree and Lena froze. Was the agent waiting for her again?

"August?" She squinted into the darkness. The light from the nearest lamp post was faint and distant.

"Who is August?" a deep voice asked.

Lena gasped.

The Duke stood before her, even taller than she remembered .

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be at a ball or a soiree or some other event?" she babbled. She pressed her hand to her violently beating heart.

"Some other event?" he repeated.

"I mean, some important business concerning the Congress."

"This is important business."

She craned her neck to look up at him, but she couldn't see his face in the darkness.

She took a step back and bumped into the tree. "Look, sir. Your Grace. I believe it is in the best interests of everyone if we agreed to ignore this." Lena spoke quickly and quietly. "I believe it would be better for you and me, and certainly for the children." She knew her words were folly, but fear drove sharp spikes into her heart and forced her to voice these words.

"Impossible. I can't just ignore the truth."

She moistened her lips. "What if the truth is better left hidden?" She said it so quietly that it was barely audible.

With one hand, he tipped her chin up as he had done the other day. His thumb gently stroked the edge of her jaw and she shivered.

"Catherine was my wife," he said in a calm, measured tone. "We were married for three years before she met an untimely death."

A tremble went through her body.

He dropped his hands but continued talking. "For eight long years I considered myself to be a widower." His voice became hard. "Until I came to Vienna and saw the spitting image of Catherine, performing in Metternich's salon. And you are asking me to just ignore it?"

He grabbed her by the arm again. "The same hair, the same figure, the same birthmarks. The same musical talent. Yet not a speck of memory of me or my sister. How can this be? Tell me. Unless Catherine had a twin, and nobody, including her mother, knew about it? How likely is that scenario?" His voice grew increasingly frustrated.

Lena averted her eyes and nervously picked at the skin of her bottom lip. The war raging within herself was terrible. She knew it was best to deny it all. To shrug her shoulders, to walk away, to tell him it was a mistake. Yet there was something about him that drew her to him, that kept her from fleeing.

"What was she like?" she heard herself asking. "Catherine."

"Catherine." His stare pierced her soul. At first she thought he would not reply, then he spoke. "She was beautiful and very young…and very shy. She had a quiet, reserved personality; she didn't talk much. She preferred the country to the city and enjoyed walks on our country estate more than attending balls during the London Season. She had a strong sense of duty and was always immersed in some charity work or other." He paused, staring into the distance. "Whether it was a soup kitchen, or a school, a hospital or an orphanage, Catherine would be involved. She knew the names of all of our tenants, including their children, more so than I did. She was afraid of horses, but loved walking, reading, and gardening. She had a wonderful voice and sang like a nightingale. She was also a virtuoso pianist." His gaze returned to her. "I sometimes thought that if she had not married me and become a duchess, and if her status and society had allowed her, she would have liked to become a professional musician." He paused before continuing. "She would have been very successful." He paused again. "As you are now."

Lena breathed heavily.

"She was much beloved as a duchess, and"—he swallowed—"as a wife."

"You make her sound like she was perfect."

"In many ways she was."

Catherine sounded as if she'd been a very different person from her. She could not identify with the image he had portrayed.

"What exactly happened?" Lena asked. She already knew, for August had told her, and a leaden feeling of dread sank into the pit of her stomach.

"News reached us of a terrible accident in Scotland involving several carriages. To this day, no one knows exactly what happened. Was it the bad weather and poor visibility? Or maybe it was the poorly maintained bridge? We will never know. What was assumed was that one vehicle crashed into another, causing such an impact that it overturned and careened off the bridge and into the river." He stared blindly into the distance. "We hoped and prayed that Catherine hadn't been in any of the carriages because her body wasn't found at first."

Lena went pale.

"Of the eighteen passengers involved, three died, and eight were badly injured." He drew in a shaking breath. "We found Catherine's body washed onto the shore several days later," he said with difficulty. "Identified only by the clothes she was wearing."

Lena pressed both hands against her mouth, not uttering a sound.

"We buried her in our family chapel."

"I am so sorry," she whispered in a thick voice. It was as if they were not talking about her, but someone else.

That scent emanated from him again.

Cedarwood and musk.

She knew it meant something. She could not deny it. Her breath caught and her eyes filled with hot tears. It shook her deeply, made her heart throb with a yearning she didn't understand.

She would have to tell him. It wasn't right not to. Her fingers trembled as she clasped them together, trying to steady herself. She opened her mouth to speak but faltered, the words refusing to come out. When she finally found her voice, it was barely more than a whisper. "I…I was there," she said, her eyes wide with fear as she forced herself to continue. "I was involved in the accident near Abbotsville."

His dark eyes burned into hers. "Yes," he breathed. "I know. Metternich told me."

"That man—!" she began angrily. "He is meddling where he has no business."

"In this case I am thankful for his meddling. He was doing me a favour. Go on. Tell me about the accident."

"The truth is, I do not recall any of the events. I do not know the woman you found who was wearing my clothes. Why would she do so? I do not know. I was found by the side of the riverbank with a severe head injury, considered dead, and placed in the side room of an inn where Simon was staying. He found me there and discovered I was not dead, but unconscious. I was merely wearing a simple shift."

He rubbed his forehead. "Was it the abigail we found and mistook for you? Did you change clothes with her, maybe?" She could hear the frown in his voice.

She shrugged helplessly. "Possibly. I do not know. What an odd thing to do, if that was the case. Simon thought that the bodies were stripped of their belongings by thieves. He thought that was what must have happened to me, too."

"And then, after they found you?"

"Realising I was not dead, Simon had me transferred to the house where he and his family were staying. He was convinced I must have been involved in the accident on the bridge. All I know is that through some miracle, I awoke in that house under his care, several weeks later." Her voice grew hoarse. "I have no recollection of what happened. I don't know why I was in that carriage and where I was travelling to. I do not recall my past, my name, my identity, nothing at all. It's all gone."

"I was with child," she continued. "It was nothing short of a miracle that I didn't lose the baby in the accident. Simon believed that I must have plunged directly into the water, instinctively tried to swim, but then struck my head against a rock. A fisherman saw it happen and pulled me out before I could drown. They called it a miracle when I woke up again."

"It's almost impossible to believe. Truly, it was a miracle that you survived and that the child was not harmed."

"I owe my survival to God's grace and Simon's exceptional care. He was a highly skilled surgeon, deeply respected in his field. Not only did he nurse me back to health, but he also took me into his family. I became a mother to his children after the tragic loss of his wife two years earlier, leaving little Achilles in desperate need of care." A shadow of sadness fell over her face as she remembered Simon and how deeply he had loved his English wife. Simon had needed Lena just as much as she had needed him—and his whole family.

"Not long after, he received an invitation from his mentor to join a prestigious medical institution in Norway. We departed from Aberdeen for Bergen and Hector was born there."

"The trip would have been perilous," the Duke said with a frown. "When was it?"

"In early 1807."

"Just before the British-Danish conflict, then," he said.

"Yes. Had we waited longer, such a trip would have been impossible. Then, two years later, we travelled to Austria."

The Duke shook his head. "Madness. He carted an entire family with little children through the war-torn continent?"

"Simon utilised his diplomatic connections to secure safe passage to Vienna by joining an official delegation. He was the personal physician of the Duke of Würtemberg. It was a long and difficult trip, but we were quite safe."

The Duke nodded. "In late 1809, following Austria's defeat and the subsequent Treaty of Sch?nbrunn, there was indeed a brief period of reduced conflict that would have allowed such a journey."

"We travelled under the protection of this delegation, which provided us with the necessary diplomatic immunity and ensured our safety. Despite the occupations and the war, he was so happy to be back in Vienna. We built our home here. We were happy here. Then, nearly a year ago, Simon suddenly dropped dead at the hospital." Her voice shook. "A heart attack."

"My condolences. I wish I could have met him. He must have been an extraordinary man."

"He was," she replied softly. "An exemplary doctor and a deeply loved father. The children miss him terribly." She hesitated before adding, "Especially Hector. He thinks of him as his father, you know."

"I know," the Duke said, his voice heavy with emotion.

Just then, the front door creaked open. "Mama?"

It was Mona, peering into the darkness.

"Go," the Duke murmured. "We'll continue this conversation in the morning."

"Is that you, Mama?" Mona called again.

"Yes, I'm here," she answered, turning towards him. "I was just getting some fresh air."

"We want to play a round of cards, Theo and I. Do you want to join us?"

"In a minute, love." She turned back to say goodnight to the Duke. He was already gone, leaving only shadows and the soft rustling of the tree where he had stood.

The following morning, Lena gathered everyone around the kitchen table. They always held meetings like this during emergencies or when disaster struck. The last time they'd assembled like this was when their father, Simon, had died.

"We need to discuss this matter because it won't simply go away," Lena forced herself to speak calmly. "I also believe we should address everything openly. No secrets in this family, understood?"

Everyone nodded.

She took a deep breath. "Very well then, let's go over what's happened in the past few days. Theo, you're usually good at this. Please, go ahead."

Theo cleared his throat. "A few days ago, the Duke of Aldingbourne, his sister, and his secretary came to visit. They all claim that you are his wife, the duchess who supposedly died nine years ago, and that Hector is his son."

"I'm not," Hector muttered darkly.

"You naturally denied it. Here's the issue. First, you both bear a striking resemblance to the Duchess. Second, it's not just one person, but three, who see this similarity in both of you. Third, you have the same birthmarks."

"And there's the fact that we were both involved in the same accident in Scotland," Lena added quietly.

"I remember it well, since I was there," Theo continued. " Not at the bridge, but at the inn when they brought in the bodies. Father was busy tending to them."

"I remember it too," Mona said. "I was only nine, so the details are fuzzy. I do recall you lying in bed for the longest time, unconscious."

"Yes. When she finally woke up, she didn't remember who she was." Theo took a deep breath. "Logically speaking, one could argue that you could be the Duchess who lost her memory due to damage to the sensorium commune—the centre responsible for recollection."

Lena's voice trembled as she finally said what they had all been dreading. "It seems rather likely that I really am the Duchess."

The room fell silent.

"You may be his duchess, but he'll never be my father," Hector declared, crossing his arms.

"Hector," Lena said helplessly, "if he acknowledges you as his son, you're his heir. It's true that Papa Simon raised you. He'll always be your father in your heart, even if not by blood."

Hector scowled.

"What happens now?" Mona asked, voicing the question on everyone's mind.

"That's what we need to decide." Lena looked at each of them in turn.

"I say we ignore him and carry on with our lives. We don't need a duke," Hector suggested predictably.

"Having a duke in the family might not be so bad," Les chimed in. "Is he wealthy?"

"I don't know," Lena admitted.

"If he is rich, we wouldn't need to perform any more," Mona said slowly. "I'm not sure how I feel about that, though—I love performing. I sure wouldn't mind living in a grand mansion."

"What do you think, Theo?" Lena turned to him.

Theo stroked his chin. "I say…we test him."

"Test him?" Lena raised an eyebrow.

"Yes." Theo nodded. "Why are we acting as if being a duke makes him the centre of the universe? He should be the one proving himself worthy of us."

The others nodded in agreement.

"So, what do you suggest?" Lena asked.

A mischievous smile spread across Theo's face. "He should live with us—just like a regular person. No dukely privileges. Let's see how he handles that."

"You mean, he should live as one of us? A commoner?" Mona asked.

"Exactly. It's the only way to see if we're compatible."

" Famos, " Les said.

"I'm not sure he'll agree to that," Lena said slowly. "He's a busy man. He might not be able to do it."

"That's our condition," Theo insisted.

Hector folded his arms, mirroring Theo. "Yes, it's our condition."