C13 Chapter 13

The supper was lavish – on the surface. Christiania’s bigwigs buzzed and became increasingly noisy at the table as the effect of the wine spread in their blood. Rich merchants roared with laughter at little wives and young women, flirting with them in their fancy-dress costumes. Everybody complimented the hostess, who graciously acknowledged them. Mrs Tark was livid, not just because there were far too many small, pretty shepherdesses in the hall but also because everything seemed to be going wrong today.

First, there were the many stupid rumours that her cousin, Mandrup Svendsen, had stolen money from the company. So what? The Tarks had vast wealth. They felt that Mandrup deserved some joy and happiness in life. No problem! After all, he had been so loyal.

Emilie did not think “loyal towards me”, but that was what she meant.

Then there was this obstinate, impossible Elisabet Paladin of the Ice People. Why did the men have to draw her into the family? It would certainly be fantastic to be able to introduce a princely margravine as their daughter-in-law this evening, but no! Mrs Emilie had had misgivings for several days. The girl had shown that she was not the least bit compliant; she had been rude to her future parents-in-law – and now, here she was, upsetting their plans!

She did not want Lillebror! That nonentity – compared to Emilie Tark – had rejected this precious gem of a young man. Other young women would have fallen on their knees, thanking Emilie for the unbelievable joy of getting Lillebror as their husband. But this hussy of the Ice People? Emilie said no thanks!

She had rejected Emilie’s son!

In favour of Lillebror’s brother, of course, but Vemund had behaved so impossibly that Emilie had dropped her eldest son.

He would have to fend for himself!

She cast a tender look at Lillebror. He was everything she demanded of an affectionate son: compliant, accommodating, obliging, easy to lead, indulgent, obedient and sweet – and not least a devoted admirer of his mother!

The mayor lifted his glass towards Emilie and shouted: “To the most beautiful woman here this evening!” She gave him an absentminded smile.

Vemund had ruined their remarkable family idyll. Nothing had been agreed between him and this rude girl; she demanded to have him and nobody else. Without asking for his opinion. “If I can’t have Vemund, I don’t want to enter into any marriage,” she had said.

What a silly girl! Now she sat next to Lillebror, and thankfully, he ignored her completely. Well done, my boy!

She seemed to be very immersed in conversation with a professor. They had been talking to one another all through the meal. That was not the right and proper thing to do for a young girl they had invited. She ought to display submissive gratitude! Oh, dear: Emilie would never be allowed to announce the princely margravine as her future daughter-in-law. Mandrup had planned to travel to Denmark and seize Gabrielshus on Elisabet’s behalf! Now that journey would probably come to nothing. Arnold said that they might need Gabrielshus ...

It was all very strange. The Tarks had never been short of anything. But a castle in Denmark would be a very good idea.

The butler disturbed Emilie’s thoughts as he whispered something in her ear.

“Who do you say is here? Somebody who wants to speak to Margravine Paladin? No, not now. What’s her name?”

“Miss Spitze, Madam.”

Emilie had her husband on one side of her. Mandrup sat opposite. Both of them lifted their heads and stared at her. She returned their stares.

For a moment, it seemed as if the three of them were an island in a roaring sea. An island of panic-stricken calm.

Then Arnold said: “Speak to Elisabet? About what?”

“Perhaps it’s about something irrelevant,” Mandrup muttered.

“She can’t come in here!”

Emilie breathed out. She had recovered after the shock. “Arnold, Mandrup! Quick! The cellar vaults!” They left the table quickly and quietly and disappeared into the hall while at the same time Emilie pushed back her chair as a sign that the meal was over. She made a movement of her hand in the opposite direction. “Let’s retire to the salon, shall we?”

Elisabet had kept an eye on them. She was sitting so close by that she had gleaned that somebody had asked for her. It was not difficult to read the butler’s lips as he formed the words: “Miss Spitze.”

Good heavens, has this woman come here of all places? Elisabet thought, while about a hundred chairs scraped against the floor. Everybody had turned towards the salon and she struggled desperately to get out into the hall. But it was as if a wall of people were on their way in the opposite direction. And then ... in a quick glimpse among the throng, she was not quite sure what she had seen. Out in the hall, across the floor, a Roman emperor and a pirate were between them dragging a woman who was fighting like mad. She seemed to be out of her mind because she was so baffled and frightened, trying desperately to remove the hand that was placed over her mouth.

This could not be true! Elisabet knew that Arnold Tark was dressed up as a very elegant and dapper pirate captain but ...

The throng had pushed Elisabet almost over to the door into the salon. She was fuming as she fought her way towards the hall like a pile driver. Finally, she reached it. It was deserted. Everybody was gathered in the salon. Where were they? She walked hesitantly in the direction in which the three – Emilie, Arnold and Mandrup Svendsen – had gone. She saw a door beneath an arch, a dark-brown door with a rustic skirting board. It looked like a cellar door. Elisabet was pulling at it hard when a soft arm was placed on her shoulder. A heavy scent mixed with the suffocating smell of powder settled like a cloud around her.

A charming voice said: “Elisabet, my dear child. We’re waiting for you. Do come!”

Emilie Tark’s domineering personality interrupted her thoughts for a few seconds and the next moment she was back in the throng once more. She had not even had time to protest, and what could she say anyway? I saw your husband and your cousin dragging Miss Spitze away? Who would believe her? Mrs Tark had the upper hand in her own home.

A very prominent man – Elisabet did not know who he was – asked people to be quiet and made an improvised speech to the hosts, and especially to Mrs Emilie, who in his and everybody’s view was the very symbol of womanhood, motherhood and all other virtues he could think of. She was a marvellous hostess, an ornament to society and the whole of Christiania.

Emilie Tark stood there looking suitably modest. Arnold and Mandrup appeared and placed themselves discreetly next to Emilie as if they had been there all the while.

Elisabet was on tenterhooks. What was she to do? Whom could she ask for help about Miss Spitze? Lillebror? He stood there like an idiot, lapping up the eulogy to his mother. No, not him! She had heard that the chief constable was here but she did not know which one he was. She would have to ask. But would he listen to her and believe her? Hardly! She would have to ask for help!

The speech was over and people were beginning to chat again. Suddenly she saw that a man was leading Mr and Mrs Tark and Mandrup Svendsen into another room. They closed the door behind them.

Elisabet plucked up courage and asked the man who stood next to her: “Who was that man who left with the Tarks?”

“That was the chief constable.”

Oh! So now she knew. But she could not follow them since they had entered a boudoir and she had no valid excuse to intrude. Unless Miss Spitze’s disappearance was a sufficient reason!

She seriously considered whether to shout out to the crowd because she was so desperate. Then she realized her advantage. Now she could search freely on her own for Miss Spitze! She had hardly finished the thought when the door opened again and Mrs Tark walked towards her with rapid, determined steps. Emilie’s hand locked itself hard around Elisabet’s wrist, with a grip that was in glaring contrast to the gentle smile on the hostess’s face.

“My very dear Elisabet, you’re almost a member of the family,” the velvety voice said, and she was led into the next-door room.

The reserved expression of the Tarks and Svendsen, not to mention Emilie’s rapidly cooling smile, told Elisabet that she was not really wanted there. The chief constable was more neutral. He was bound to wonder what she was doing there.

Should she say anything? You see, they have to keep me away from the party because I know things that they don’t want out in the open. But Elisabet did not have time for that. Mrs Emilie, who seemed to read her thoughts, immediately began to speak, asking the chief constable: “What was it you wanted to speak to us about?”

Miss Karin and Dr Hansen had driven around the neighbourhood for quite some time, enjoying themselves so much that they had not noticed that it was getting late. He studied her covertly. There was no doubt that despite the dark spells in her life, she had blossomed remarkably. Karin looked much younger now than the first time he had met her. She dressed sensibly, no longer like a young girl, her eyes had a healthy lustre and she spoke almost normally. But only just ...

Her anxiety, worries, insecurity, popped up from time to time.

Dr Hansen had been too afraid to break through the blockage in her mind. Her enigma was too complex and she was far too vulnerable in this regard. Things would have been easier if he had been able to collaborate better with Vemund and Elisabet, but when it came to Karin, Vemund would clam up like an oyster. He was convinced that Elisabet was working with incomplete knowledge. But most of all, she was probably more preoccupied with Vemund Tark. Karin Ulriksby was not Elisabet’s prime concern.

“Dusk is falling,” Karin exclaimed. Dusk? Actually, it was almost completely dark. “We’d better cancel our visit to the estate today,” the doctor said.

“We’re almost there, aren’t we? We might just look around a bit,” Karin suggested.

Dr Hansen obeyed. A few minutes later he stopped the coach at the Lekenes Estate.

“There’s a party going on,” he said.

“Yes, and there are a lot of coaches and all the windows are lit. It looks fantastic. It’s probably lovely inside now.”

She wrinkled her brow in confusion. Dr Hansen thought that she must be recalling something. She vaguely remembered her life at ... was it Bode? When she spoke about it. But it was a long time since she had mentioned it.

It was all very confusing. At first she had lived only in the past ... up until the moment when her fiancé was to arrive with lilies-of the-valley. Then – when little Sofie Magdalene entered her life and she was responsible for someone who needed her – the memories of Bode disappeared. She had other things to be interested in. Perhaps I’ve also been instrumental in bringing about her improved health? And the kindness of Elisabet and everyone else. She lives in a wonderful environment and now there is a new dimension to her life. Yet the painful past is lying in there, pressing on her. Whatever happened to her Bubi. Elisabet says that now she remembers things that seemed irrelevant before. He woke from his thoughts as Karin got out of the coach.

“Aren’t you going to visit your patient?” she asked.

Dr Hansen said: “Now is hardly a good time. But it’s one of the servants so we can enquire at the kitchen door.”

Karin giggled. “I’ve never used the kitchen door before. Let’s try. I’m in a very naughty mood tonight!”

He stepped out of the coach grudgingly and followed her around the house. They assumed that the kitchen door was at the back and they were right. They were surprised to find a policeman at the door but nevertheless they were let in.

There was a relaxed atmosphere in the kitchen for the moment, now that supper was finished. Most of the staff had settled down, exhausted, at the servants’ table to eat the leftovers before they had to do the dishes.

Dr Hansen found his patient and exchanged a few words with her. Karin was left to herself by the door to the butler’s pantry. She let her finger glide over a silver dish. She thought she recognized it and that she had followed the lines of the pattern with her finger before. A long, long time ago. The incomplete memory confused her. The kitchen was blurred, the voices more distant ...

Nobody noticed that Karin was confused and had strayed into the butler’s pantry and then into the empty dining room. She knew that she had never been in this house before but the place did hold memories. Memories that burnt like big, open wounds in her bosom. She heard voices, many of them, and she instinctively walked in the direction of those voices.

Elisabet did not really know what to do with herself. The four others, Mr and Mrs Tark, Mandrup and the chief constable, stood like statues, looking at one another. Mrs Emilie kept an eye on Elisabet all the time, undoubtedly to prevent her searching for Miss Spitze. What is actually going on here? Elisabet wondered.

The chief constable said: “I regret that I must interrupt the party like this but I’ve heard rumours that Mr Svendsen plans to leave for Denmark tomorrow morning.”

Mandrup started and looked around for escape routes but there were none.

“Tomorrow, Mandrup?” Mrs Tark said, genuinely surprised. “You were supposed to leave next week in order to visit Gabrielshus!”

“I got a berth on the boat that leaves tomorrow,” Mandrup Svendsen replied. “It was so sudden that I had no time to notify you.”

Emilie Tark asked: “Why are you interested in the matter, Chief Constable?”

Perspiration was pouring off Mandrup. Arnold Tark looked pale and harassed. The chief constable replied: “Your son, Vemund Tark, asked our people to look into the finances of your business. It turns out that Mr Svendsen has committed serious, fraudulent conversion. His breach of confidence is so serious that you, ladies and gentlemen, must understand that the Tark business no longer exists.”

Emilie looked at him suspiciously. “What awful nonsense!” she laughed.

Her husband, Arnold Tark, said: “I’m afraid it’s the truth, dear Emilie. I’ve tried to point out your cousin’s embezzlement for some time, but you wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Well, why haven’t you done something then?” Emilie gasped. “You let Vemund do as he wanted. He’s always been your son! Both of you have the same short-sighted approach. And now he strikes at his own relative, Mandrup, who has sacrificed so much while your son wanders about like a rafter or a labourer. Mandrup, say that it’s just evil gossip!”

“Of course, Emilie. It’s just Vemund who is causing problems. He’s probably jealous.”

Mandrup seemed to be more interested in the goodwill of his cousin Emilie Tark than in that of the chief constable.

Emilie became brisk. “Chief Constable, my cousin may have done some stupid things but there’s no danger! Our son is to marry Miss Elisabet here, Margravine Paladin, who is heiress to three estates in Norway and the fantastic Gabrielshus in Denmark.”

Elisabet said: “That’s not true. I’m not about to marry Lillebror. Besides, a wom ....”

Emilie Tark interrupted her, raising her voice to a mild and gentle yet crushing force, which drowned out Elisabet’s voice completely: “I never said that you’re to marry Lillebror. Dear girl, I meant Vemund, our elder son.” She cooed, fixing her animal-trainer glance on Elisabet. Emilie Tark met opposition. Elisabet said frostily: “I doubt that. Besides, you can forget everything as far as Gabrielshus is concerned.”

“We will discuss that later,” Emilie replied. “How serious is the matter? A small bank loan ...”

Arnold Tark, close to tears, replied: “The matter’s serious. I’ve just been told that we will lose everything, including Lekenes.”

Finally, Emilie’s self-confidence began to falter. “Mandrup!” she gasped.

“I-It can be saved, Emilie,” he stuttered so quickly that he could hardly pronounce the words. “Not to worry, I’ve liquid assets. There will merely be a temporary break in the cash flow. People always pay so late. But grant me postponement!”

The butler knocked on the door and entered. “The guests are asking for the hosts. I think the governor wants to bestow an honour on you.”

“We’ll go out to them,” the chief constable said. “We won’t talk any more about this matter tonight and I’m sure the finances can be settled. But don’t try to escape, Mr Svendsen. My men are guarding all exits.” With this warning, the chief constable let them go. Emilie Tark had to stop and take a few deep breaths before she gained full control of her bearing and facial expression.

Elisabet plucked up courage and walked up to the chief constable: “I would like to spe....”

“It can wait, Elisabet,” Mrs Tark said with a harsh grip on her arm. She deftly led Elisabet away from the policeman and into the big salon where all the guests were waiting.

There was a podium there, raised a few steps from the salon floor. The governor was standing on it and he summoned Mr and Mrs Tark.

Elisabet thought: How can Mrs Tark go on smiling so modestly when the disappointment is raging in her? She’s guarding me. She doesn’t want me out of her sight.

Lillebror’s admiration for his mother was limitless. For the first time, Elisabet felt almost sorry for him. He knew nothing! True, but he was not naïve either. He was a shrewd womanizer. She had seen many instances of it this evening. What woman in her senses would put up a fight against Emilie Tark? Lillebror’s mother would always be Lillebror’s top priority, which the two of them seemed to agree on.

Emilie played her role to perfection. She was absolutely cool. Arnold Tark, on the other hand, had slumped into the posture of the middle-aged man he was. His face was bitter and careworn and the governor’s kind words were lost on him.

Vemund had said that the fortune came from the Tarks and not from Mrs Emilie’s family, and now her cousin had squandered it all.

Emilie beamed at the honour the governor held half hidden in his hand.

Then it happened.

For a moment, she went on looking at the admiring audience while her eyes slowly began to show her horror. All eyes followed hers. The governor was speaking to deaf ears.

A thin woman in an overcoat was walking through the salon. She stared at all the splendour. Her eyes were confused.

Karin Ulriksby.

Arnold Tark moaned. “Oh, God, no!”

Mandrup Svendsen let out a long sigh. “Heavens, all the devils are at it! I’m not here! I’m not here!”

Then Emilie screamed. She screamed as if she had seen a ghost. Long, horrific screams as if from an old lady. Suddenly Elisabet remembered that it was a 63-year-old standing up there. This was not something you would otherwise think of. Now every year was etched in Emilie’s face. Everything had collapsed around Emilie Tark. The whole day seemed bewitched, and this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Elisabet wondered whether Emilie was deciding who to blame for all this? Vemund, perhaps? No, she does not know of the connection between us and Karin. Perhaps she might suddenly fathom the name of my employer?

Mandrup Svendsen tried to pacify the crowd. He made calming gestures with his hands. “Take it easy. It’s just a confused guest. ... An uninvited guest.”

Finally, Elisabet managed to extricate herself from the people encircling her and she ran up to Karin. “You shouldn’t be here ...”

Then in came Vemund. In a few rapid steps, he was by their side. “Good God, get Karin out of here,” he shouted to Elisabet over Emilie’s yells.

Now Karin had caught sight of them up on the podium. The governor had quickly stepped down to join the crowd and Mandrup Svendsen was pulling at Arnold Tark, trying to get them – Emilie and Arnold – to step down.

Arnold just stood there, terror-stricken, staring at Karin. A hysterical Emilie hid behind his back, but there was no point in that because he fell to his knees with his face hidden in his hands. Emilie quickly hid behind her cousin instead.

“Bubi?” Karin whispered, sounding baffled, as if she was in the process of waking up.

“Follow us,” Vemund said but Karin pushed him aside. Mandrup had to tackle it all. “Dear friends,” he shouted to the crowd. “I must ask you to leave the house peacefully. We have an uninvited, deranged person, a very dangerous person here. Please leave the room! Chief Constable: get her out!” A unanimous, low sound of surprise could be heard from the guests and about half of them obeyed while the rest stayed.

“Vemund, Miss Spitze is locked up somewhere,” Elisabet said quickly.

“We’ll find her,” he answered and then there was no more time. Vemund shook his head at the chief constable, who approached him hesitantly.

“She’s seen them up there on the podium,” he said. “It’s best just to let things happen. It’s not her who is the sinner here.”

Lillebror stood paralysed, staring at the impossible tableau that confronted him. He understood nothing and he was not even able to run up to the podium and help his dear mother.

Karin’s screams came from the depth of her soul.

“Bubi! Bubi! No, no, no!”

She screamed incessantly in the most heart-wrenching despair and horror. Elisabet saw that Vemund’s eyes were brimming with tears, and she knew that this was what he had feared the most. Now her mind would break forever – or she might choose to take her own life. Elisabet shouted helplessly: “Karin, think of little Sofie Magdalene!”

But Karin did not listen. She broke loose and rushed, still screaming, towards the podium. Emilie held her hands out as if to ward off a possible blow. Before Karin had reached Emilie, Mandrup managed to drag Emilie and Arnold Tark with him and run to the door.

“Take care of Karin,” Elisabet shouted to Vemund and dashed after them. She almost bumped into Dr Hansen, who sprinted after Karin.

Now she’s in safe hands, Elisabet thought, as she dashed through the door after them. As the door slammed behind her, her ridiculous veil got stuck and tore with a cutting sound. Without examining the damage or thinking how much a girl could do on her own against them all, she ran after them. Emilie Tark must not get away. This was Elisabet’s one and only thought. That woman had caused Elisabet to be justly angry!

They had dashed up the stairs. Elisabet ran after them and saw them disappearing into Emilie’s bedroom. Before they had time to lock the door, Elisabet had managed to squeeze herself in.

Elisabet asked: “What have you miserable lot done to Karin? You, Mandrup Svendsen, are ...”

She wanted to say “her Bubi”, but she did not have time to say more because Emilie Tark had seized her large powder tin and the very next second, Elisabet was enveloped in an unbearable cloud that she knew could be deadly.

As she struggled for breath, Elisabet heard Emilie’s voice as a distant buzz. “Quick, Mandrup! Same place!”

Elisabet was lifted up. She struggled like mad to catch her breath, and then she lost consciousness.

Downstairs in the salon, the butler managed to persuade most of the guests to leave. He also drove out the servants who had thronged through the door. Vemund and Dr Hansen tried in vain to make Karin calm down. She was out of her mind, had no idea where she was, waved her hands and arms wildly and screamed that she would torch Bode, this house of sin.

Dr Hansen turned to Vemund: “What was it that happened?”

“I’ll never get it across my lips, my shame is so immense.”

“But we have to know!”

“No!” Vemund flatly refused to discuss the matter. “Haven’t you got some medicine that can calm her down?”

Dr Hansen replied: “No, I didn’t bring it with me.”

“Then we’ll have to give her some schnapps.”

He waved to the butler and got a big glass. They forced Karin, who was panicking, to drink it.

Lillebror came over to them. He was surprised. “Who is she?”

Vemund answered: “Your sister.”

“My sister? That old harridan? Now you’re being really stupid,” Lillebror said, sounding disgusted.

“Oh, shut up,” Vemund said, irritated. He did not have time for such nonsense. “Where’s Elisabet?”

“She disappeared together with the host and hostess,” Dr Hansen said.

“But ...”

Vemund looked around and caught sight of the chief constable who gazed at them without understanding very much. Karin’s mad screams were now replaced by exhausting, gurgling sounds.

“Dr Hansen, you must look after her. Come, Chief Constable, this is urgent!” On their way, the chief constable said: “Miss Paladin tried several times to say something to me but Mrs Tark interrupted her constantly. Something about a woman who had vanished.”

Vemund said: “Yes, Miss Spitze. We must attend to that afterwards. For now it’s Elisabet, and the others, that we have to focus on.”

They were searching the rooms on the ground floor as they spoke. The chief constable said: “They won’t get away. My men are posted all over the place.”

Vemund protested: “But so many left the house at the same time.”

“You’re right. The only one they were to keep watch for was Mandrup Svendsen, and he’s easily recognizable.”

They continued up the stairs. Vemund went over to Emilie’s room, which he suspected was the hiding place. All they found was a diffuse haze in the air. The chief constable waved his hand in front of him in order to disperse it. He coughed. “Powder! I can’t stand it! I’m allergic to it!”

Vemund felt anxiety creeping over him. Powder? Something was gleaming on the floor. It was a piece of the tinsel that had been attached to Elisabet’s fancy dress. She had been in here. And now the room was empty.

“Oh, God,” he whispered. “They’ve got her! They used the most effective means that exists to destroy her. That damned powder!”