CH 122

Lisa went to visit Mrs Fitz’s office later that afternoon. Although she had been sullen of late, today she was particularly sad and no one knew why.

“What is it Lisa?” Mrs Fitz asked, as she closed a ledger.

“I want to leave Schuber Palace,” Lisa said, determination on her face.

“What do you mean?” Mrs Fitz said, looking at Lisa with narrowed eyes.

Lisa felt the old woman’s eyes bore into her soul, daring her to say more, but Lisa didn’t back down. She stiffened her back and took a step forward.

“I will return to Baden Manor, to my Mistress.”

“Return to Baden? But didn’t Her Highness not want that?”

Lisa rubbed her hands together, fighting back tears. She had received a letter from Erna two weeks ago, apologising for leaving without a word and thanked Lisa with all her heart, for all the times they shared. She had also asked Mrs Fitz to provide Lisa with a job, or be referred to another family if there wasn’t space for Lisa.

” I don’t know if she’s made up her mind to return,” Lisa said.

Despite everyone’s expectations, Lisa decided to wait for Erna to return, but she never did and Lisa was at breaking point.

“If you don’t want to stay, I can write a letter of recommendation for another family, as requested by Her Highness.”

“No,” Lisa said, vigorously shaking her head. “I will go to Baden Street, please.”

“Are you really going to disobey Her Highnesses direct orders?”

“Oh no, Her Highness must have told me to meet again.”

Lisa quickly handed over the letter that Erna had written her. It was clearly the Grand Duchess, her well groomed handwriting was unmistakeable.

“Lisa…”

Mrs Fitz read the letter carefully and a smirk came to her lips. The letter did clearly state that they would meet again, once everything had been sorted out. Mrs Fitz felt sorry for Lisa and let out a sigh.

Mrs Fitz rose from her seat and moved to look at the window. She could see the garden and they looked bleak. It was time to put an end to the optimism of Erna’s return.

In the letters to Mrs Fitz and Lisa, there was not one mention of Bjorn and it was hard to find any signs of curiosity about how their work around the Grand Duke was going.

Rubbing her throbbing temple, Mrs Fitz turned to look at Lisa, how stared right back at her with furrowed brow and a stubborn determination.

“Fine, you may go.”

Lisa was dazed for a moment, expecting Mrs Fitz to put up more of a struggle, but her bewilderment was quickly replaced with excitement.

“Thank you, thank you.”

“However, there are conditions,” straightening again, Mrs Fitz approached Lisa with purpose. “There is one thing you have to do for me.”

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

After the meeting with the directors, who rushed out of the study in a hurry, Bjorn watched them leave from the sofa, leaning back with his sleeves rolled up to his elbow. The only sign of the long meeting with the build up of ash on the table.

When the door to the study closed, Bjorn got up and walked over to the window and looked at the reddening sky as the sun set. The bare trees swayed in the wind, reminding him that winter was fast approaching and he let out a laugh. It was a habit he had developed since Erna left.

He turned and considered the fireplace, where he could hear the crackling firewood. Then he looked up at the painting hanging above the mantle, the painting of the Grand Duke and Duchess of Schuber, by Pavel Lore. Erna Dniester was beautiful with her subtle smile, something that both satisfied and annoyed Bjorn.

He decided to hang the portrait in the study so that it did not interfere with Erna’s space. It was also rude to hang the portrait out of sight, so the study seemed to be the most appropriate place to hang it.

A husband I love no longer.

The letter only deepened his ridicule. He laughed it off, as he had done so many times before. How dangerous deer could be, he should have known better after the last time he had got bitten on the nape of the neck.

As time passed, the season changed. Erna hadn’t made any effort to contact Bjorn, not once. She had written to Mrs Fitz and her personal handmaiden, but nothing had been sent to him. Was she trying to incite some response from him?

Bjorn looked at the portrait of his beautiful wife, who was still playing these thinly vailed tricks. He wasn’t unwilling to let Erna stay with her family, but it was absurd that she had ran off in the middle of the night. The period was dragging on though, one month and a week, Bjorn was starting to get impatient.

“Your Highness, it’s Mrs Fitz.”

“Come in.”

Bjorn turned and sat back on the sofa. He rolled down his sleeved and reattached the cufflinks. As he did so, Mrs Fitz came into the room.

“I am sending Her Highnesses personal handmaid back to Buford,” Mrs Fitz said.

She was well aware of the Prince’s diminishing patience and did her best to deliver her message tactfully. Bjorn lifted his brow at the statement, a clear sign that he was growing agitated. 

“Lisa? The hell guardian Erna called a handmaid?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Well…fine,” Bjorn said with a nod, as if it was no big thing.

He never liked the way Lisa roamed the halls of the palace with a sombre expression, as though she as on the brink of crumbling away. The absence of one maid, especially one such as Lisa, would not be missed in the slightest.

“I was thinking of cutting her off anyway, so, everything turned out for the best.”

“Maybe, Your Highness, I have asked Lisa to send letters periodically, to keep us updated on Her Highness.”

Bjorn stopped what he was doing and stared at Mrs Fitz.

“You must be very worried about your wife, right Your Highness?” Mrs Fitz said.

“Why?” Bjorn said.

“Your Highness?”

“She’ll come back on her own, so there is no need to act in such a manner,” Bjorn flashed Mrs Fritz one of his signature smiles.

Mrs Fitz understood the meaning of no more unnecessary objections and watched the prince walk out of the study.

Just before he left the room, he paused and looked at Mrs Fritz.

“Don’t wait for me, I will be late coming back.”

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

“Who’s turn is it to call?” Bjorn demanded.

His cold blue eyes scanned about the table and locked with Peter, who furrowed his brow as he stared intently at his hand. Rather than speak any words, Peter simply nodded and coughed. The long running game was coming to an end and as always Bjorn Dniester had won.

He had become known as the Murderer of the Social Club and even after wiping out everyone’s hand and walking away with most of the chips, he was not happy, he was never happy any more. In fact, his behaviour saw him humiliate his opponents like never before.

Bjorn rarely ever got like this, but recently, he was showing a ruthlessness that really demonstrated his mad dog demeanour.

The atmosphere was tense and everyone was being especially cautious around the sharp, blue blades of Bjorn’s ire. When he chose his victims, seemingly out of no where, he would drain them dry, of blood and wealth, then wonder off into the night again, leaving behind an air of terrified card players.

“Oh, are you leaving already?” Peter said.

As Bjorn got up from his seat, the sense of joy spread around the table.

Please go, please. They all thought.

Bjorn nodded his head sullenly and everyone resisted the urge to cheer. The Wolf had seemingly had its fill and was loping off back to its den. As soon as he left, the room erupted into frustrated protests. The loudest of them was Leonard, who had been the worst affected.

“He’s just letting off steam,” Leonard said, shaking his head. “He’s pouring out all his anger and frustrations on us.”

“Yeah, but why us?” Peter said, sinking into his chair. “I can not face his anger any more.”

“When will the Grand Duchess return? By the end of the year I hope.”

“Don’t be daft, it’s too long! If she comes back at the end of the year, I will become a beggar!”

Everyone hoped for the Grand Duchess’ return, but none were eager to aspire to the dream actually coming true.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

Tara Square was bitterly cold and barren of life. Winter was lurking. Bjorn checked the time on the clock tower as he made his way to the fountain, he still had half hour until the coachman would come to take him home.

Bjorn sat on the edge of the fountain and gazed up at the stars. They were beautiful tonight and immediately, he started thinking of Erna again.

“Erna….”

The name escaped his lips as a puff of ice cold mist and floated off into the night sky.