Part 23 (1/2)

”He said something to the effect 'I see you're trying to get some money back from the Baroness,' and I said something like 'We'll see how it goes; these things take time,' and he said, 'I hope it works out for you,' and I thanked him for his concern.”

”Did you not tell him you could blackmail her and get certain sums of money?”

”No, that word is not in my vocabulary.”

I, for one, thought that she answered awfully fast. Despite her denial, the seed had been sown. All in all, Powers scored some d.a.m.ning points during his cross-examination of Frank. How could she account for all the checks written to her from my account?

Try as he might to undermine our case, Sawyer could not make the checks disappear, to say nothing of the release signed by Frank.

THE SACRIFICES OF MARRIAGE.

DALFSEN AND LONDON-18921901

The Baron and I wedded in a private ceremony at his Dalfsen family property on November 20, 1892, with Rudolph in a regal, trim black suit and me, the shy bride, in a flowing white gown with layered sleeves. All his family attended-his mother and sister, as well as three sets of aunts and uncles and a smattering of cousins-as did the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Norfolk and nearly a dozen members of the Dutch royalty. As for my family, I had to content myself with sending them photographs-one of me and Rudolph, another of the complete wedding party in the airy front parlor of the estate. Daisy, who had accompanied me to Holland, spent the wedding day unpacking and arranging our personal effects. (”A maid at a wedding? It wouldn't be fitting,” Rudolph had said. ”And it would upset Mother.”) As I accustomed myself to the company of the Baron and his mother and sister, Daisy took up a modest third-floor garret. In her position as my personal a.s.sistant, she spent many hours with me in my boudoir on the second floor, during which time she often complained about her circ.u.mstances: ”It takes forever for news from Mother to reach me, and I miss New York's newspapers,” or ”I know I should be grateful for the steady pay, but, my goodness, this is a dull place.”

I could hardly argue with her about the boredom of the routine or the seclusion of the estate, but my marriage to Rudolph offered many benefits: I was a baroness, a married woman of twenty-three making a fresh start. The mistakes of my past faded into the background, eclipsed by my new status and of no consequence to those who might have wished to use them against me. Nor did my memories of those slips any longer beget solitary moments of self-recrimination. Of course I saved a corner of my heart for Johnny, though I could do naught now but accept that terrible tragedy.

Surprisingly, Rudolph had become dear to me, and his attentiveness pleased me. Once he'd won me over, he spouted less about himself, and I realized that all the trumpeting that had annoyed me during our courts.h.i.+p had merely been an attempt to impress. Before we married, he consented to set me up with a sizable bank account so that I needn't pester him about every b.u.t.ton or bauble I desired. He loved me pa.s.sionately and indulged my every whim-in mail-order books, jewels, and champagne. He came to my bed nearly every night, as eager as a youngster half his age, but as considerate and gentle as the seasoned man he was.

The family lived in a stately four-story brick home, which was rightly called De Vries Castle. Its lowest level, which housed the kitchen, storage, and work quarters, let in feeble light through narrow windows high on the walls at the ground level. The s.p.a.cious entry hall on the main level led to the dining room, two parlors, a smoking room, and the library. Six roomy bedrooms, two adjoined and all with sitting areas, graced the second floor. A third level, the servants' rooms, nestled under the roof. Daisy, plus the three lady servants and two butlers who'd served the family for many years, inhabited these steep-ceilinged rooms, all of which offered lovely views of the estate through squat dormer windows.

Before long, the Baron and I settled into a routine of strolling the grounds, weather permitting, afternoons at four. The castle sat in the middle of a gra.s.sy five-acre parcel surrounded by a majestic forest. I enjoyed the privacy and time away from the house that our survey of the grounds afforded: Although Rudolph's mother and sister were kind enough to me, the stiff formality of our interactions-including the burden of having communications between his mother and me translated-wore on me. One early-March day, nearly four months after our wedding, Rudolph and I met in the entryway for our daily walk.

”Your mother tells me the daffodils and tulips will soon bloom,” I said, my mood brightened by the clear blue skies and sprays of wild hyacinths sprouting at the lawn's edges.

Rudolph squinted as we turned onto the graveled lane marking the estate's west side. ”Do you remember the flowers I had delivered to you in London? They were all from hothouses in this area.”

”I can't wait to have fresh flowers in the house,” I said, ”to cheer us all up.”

”I shall pick some for you myself.” Rudolph cupped his hand under my elbow. ”My dear, I leave next week for that shooting tournament.”

”What shooting tournament?”

”Did I not tell you? It happens every year. In Gotha, Germany.”

”Is that far from here?”

”A three-day journey.”

”Can I come along?”

He chuckled. ”No, it is all men. Nothing really for the ladies to do.”

”Can I take a trip, too?”

”Not now. Mother's elderly aunt is arriving Sat.u.r.day, and she will want to see you.”

What I didn't say was that I had not the least interest in seeing her, though I had little choice but to endure this wifely burden. Over the coming years I came to dread these all-too-regular visits from relatives. There I sat, at the dinner table or in the parlor, listening to them carry on about Earl So-and-so or Uncle Such-and-such, trying my best to appear fascinated with the goings-on of people I cared not a whit about. On those rare occasions when talk turned to worldly events-why ever America should meddle with Hawaii when it already possessed nearly a whole continent, the treachery of that Jew Alfred Dreyfus, or New Zealand's ”lamentable” enactment of women's suffrage-I enthusiastically offered my views, only to find them knocked down by their provincial proclamations. Often, especially when older guests came around, they dispensed with translating their exchanges for me and simply lapsed to Dutch. Try as I might to learn the language, Dutch proved exceedingly difficult to master. So I sat dumbly looking on, pretending amus.e.m.e.nt when they chuckled over who-knows-what. I counted the minutes until I might politely retreat to my room and the company of Jane Austen or Rudyard Kipling. By the time I managed to gracefully excuse myself, my cheek muscles had invariably seized up from the smile I'd dutifully plastered on for endless hours.

Rudolph's excursions became more and more frequent over the years, and he only occasionally took me on a holiday-once to Paris and twice to Amsterdam. To pa.s.s my time at the estate, I learned to ride, though Rudolph prohibited me from jumping. I devoured every book I could get my hands on. I took up light gardening, not because I enjoyed the labor, but because it afforded solitary time in the open air. Still, far too often I found myself relegated to the company of his mother, Lady de Vries (who spoke not a speck of English), and his sister, Miriam (our faithful translator). Eventually, the courteous coexistence that had first characterized our exchanges gave way to intrusive prying.

One week in the high summer of 1895, a second cousin of Rudolph's visited with her husband and children. The two boys and one girl spanned ages four to eight-the most unruly years of childhood, if their behavior was any indication. Every day they ran about, bounding across the gra.s.s and rolling down slopes, all the time unleas.h.i.+ng monstrous squeals of delight. I prayed they would take up a quiet game of hide-and-seek in the woods, but their doting parents forbade them to venture out of sight of the castle.

A few days after they departed, Rudolph also left for one of his compet.i.tions, and that evening Miriam said to me over dinner, ”Wasn't it wonderful having children around?”

She muttered a translation of her question to her mother.

I speared and sliced an asparagus. ”They certainly were a happy bunch.”

Miriam conveyed my remark to her mother in Dutch.

”I should have liked nothing more than a child with my husband,” said Miriam, ”but we were not so fortunate.” Again she rattled off her meaning to her mother.

I tried to steer the conversation to a more pleasant topic. ”I've often meant to tell you how handsome your husband looks in that photograph on the mantel.”

Miriam followed that with a brisk sentence to her mother. Then, surprisingly, she pa.s.sed over the chance to talk about her husband, which she usually did with the least provocation, and said to me, as casually as a cat contemplating a swim, ”I know Rudolph would love a son, or even a daughter.”

Again she intoned her remark to Lady de Vries.

During the pause that ensued, I restrained myself from quipping: ”How strange that Rudolph would confide such an intimacy to you when he has not spoken to me of it.”

Meantime, Lady de Vries eased her fork and knife onto her plate. She spoke a few words to Miriam and, as she turned expectant eyes on me, Miriam translated: ”Mother asks if you wish to have a child.”

”I would like nothing more,” I said. But in truth I wished no such thing and was taking measures to a.s.sure that our conjugal relations did not leave me with child. Still, I did not appreciate the insinuation afoot that evening. I was certain both Miriam and her mother had taken note, perhaps by gathering intelligence from the maid, about how often Rudolph's bed went undisturbed. I could only surmise they blamed me for some condition that precluded motherhood.

Having surrendered my adventurous spirit for the settled respectability of marriage, I bore the unpleasantries Rudolph's family hoisted on me with a fair degree of tolerance. But I missed my mother and brothers and had no idea when I might see them again. They had not fared well after the Panic of '93. Even out-of-the-way Menominee had been hard hit, and the belt-tightening among the city's wealthiest severely curtailed my mother's dressmaking business. But, worse yet, Paul's employment at the lumber mill had become sporadic. Thus, in 1896, a year after my younger brother, Gene, graduated from high school, I sent him money from my account-with Rudolph's knowledge and consent-so that he might attend dental school. He had mentioned such an interest, and I hoped that taking up a profession would not only help the family's finances, but also position him to marry well.

Around this time, Daisy's simmering discontent boiled over: ”I didn't exactly hire on to be relegated to a cramped room in some country estate”; ”None of the maids speak a word of English, not that I wish to mix with them”; and ”You'd best not spend from your account too freely; you never know when you might need the funds.”

Soon enough, I, too, yearned to escape the shackles of tight-sheeted domesticity. Come January of 1897, I had embarked on a campaign to convince Rudolph to move us to London. Finally, in the spring of 1898, Rudolph and his butler, as well as Daisy and I, took up residence in a splendid house on Cork Street in Mayfair. Our central location afforded easy access to all of London, and, after almost six years of ”the peaceful country life,” I delighted in outings to plays, fine restaurants, and musical entertainment. Daisy, too, was much happier, especially after she convinced Rudolph, via my importuning, to bring her brother d.i.c.ky over from America to serve as coachman for the household.

But barely one year into our London sojourn, when I informed Rudolph I'd exhausted the account he'd set up for me upon our marriage, tensions flared between us.

”Good heavens,” he said, sitting upright in his desk chair and brandis.h.i.+ng his pen, ”where did all the money go?”

I stood before his desk, attired in the day dress I knew to be his favorite. ”You've seen the gowns I've had made. You know I sent money to my family. And Daisy needed some gowns for London, too.”

”Gowns? Why, you could have bought several thousand with all that money.”

”I made the money last nearly six years. Surely that's not unreasonable.”

”How did you ever manage that antiquities business in j.a.pan when you can't even keep track of your own money?”

”I did keep track of it. I know exactly how I spent it.”