vonHelfin

II

"Baron von Helfin, I presume," Mama stated, stepping toward the ominous figure. Sweeping a curtsey, she bobbed her head downward, then stood.

Silently, the Baron gazed upon her, his hooded eyes hidden. The air froze around him, causing an involuntary shiver along my spine. When he stepped toward us, I hastily moved backward. Grabbing my arm, Mama pulled me beside her.

"Isabella Chamberlain, at your service," Mama continued her introduction. "My daughter, Norah."

I noticed the slight stammer in her voice. The Baron unnerved my stalwart mother. Tall and thin, he towered above her. He wore a black tailcoat buttoned over a red diamond-printed waistcoat. The cravat at his neck contained a ruby stickpin. Clicking his heels, he bowed slightly at the waist.

"Please follow me," Mama's new employer invited. "I am sure you require refreshment following your long journey."

We entered a small parlor with heavy drapes hanging at large French doors. The Baron sat in a wingback chair and indicated a small round table. His ghostly face disappeared into the shadows. A musty scent prevailed in the room, nearly choking me.

Mama sat opposite our host and folded her hands in her lap. Her pale complexion stood out above her black mourning dress. Hovering behind her, I hesitated to join them. My entire body was poised to flee.

"Don't stand about like a scarecrow, Norah," Mama chastised, beckoning me toward a red brocade armchair. "Do sit down and take refreshment."

"Yes, Mama," I muttered unwillingly. I glared at the silent Baron as I slipped into the seat indicated.

Mama poured the tea from the silver pot and offered our host the cup embossed with the von Helfin coat of arms. She frowned when he refused the proffered refreshment. Momentarily at a loss, she stared at her extended arm, then passed the cup on to me. I hastily accepted it and placed it on the table before me.

Nonplussed, Mama buttered a scone and added clotted cream and jam. Again, the Baron refused the plate, and I accepted it. However, a moldy taste filled my mouth when I bit into the pastry. Stifling an involuntary gag, I awkwardly held the small China plate in my lap.

While Mama and her new employer discussed her duties, my eyes roamed the small chamber. The furnishings appeared worn and disused. Dust clung to the window hangings, and the faded wallpaper peeled away at the corners. Cobwebs hanging from the ceiling entwined disused light fixtures. I shuddered and turned my eyes toward the fireplace. Soot clung to the mantel and the firebox. A small pile of coal glowed feebly, casting a dim light. Otherwise, the room remained quite dark.

"You have traveled a great distance, Madam Chamberlain," Baron von Helfin stated. His smooth voice sounded dry, as though he hadn't spoken following a long interval.

"Yes, from England," Mama responded, her teacup poised before her lips. "Burnley-Upon-Tyne. It's rather a small place in the northeast." Pausing, she bowed her head in reverence for my dearly departed father. "My husband was the Vicar of Grey Friars' Church. God rest his soul."

At the mention of Papa's church, the Baron withdrew further into his chair. His pale face blanched, and a slight hiss escaped his tight red mouth.

Mama did not notice. Instead, she reached for another scone and buttered it. She munched upon it, undisturbed by the taste and the awkward situation.

Time passed slowly. On the mantelpiece, the ormolu clock read twelve-thirty-five. A light mist crept into the parlor, entwining our ankles. The Baron continued to sit, his hands folded in his lap. He did not offer to light the lamps. Then, I noticed that the room lacked any means of illumination besides the disused wall sconces.

Finally, our host rose and again bowed at the waist. Baron von Helfin extended his hand. Mama stared up at him, momentarily at a loss.

"The children await you in their nursery," the Baron stated, a small smile twitching at his ruby lips. "They are eager to make your acquaintance."

Following Papa's execution, Mama applied for a post as governess. However, the scandal surrounding my father's crime created a lack of acceptance. England turned her back upon us as well as France and Germany. Finally, she received a favorable response from Baron von Helfin. Thus, we journeyed, by the Orient Express, to faraway Romania.

Hastily, Mama abandoned her refreshment and grasped the Baron's hand. She rose with his generous assistance. I delayed following them. However, the Baron insisted I accompany them. Reluctantly, I re-entered the great hall in their wake.

Mama halted at the foot of the swooping staircase, assuming the nursery's location. At home, the children's chambers occupied an upper level. Poised to climb upward, a look of confusion crossed her face. The Baron swiftly opened a nondescript oaken door. Its hinges screeched loudly, echoing throughout the chamber. We joined him and descended a narrow stairway.

I shuddered as we passed through a tight corridor. The moist walls pressed close to our shoulders. Slippery with moss, the uneven cobblestones became more treacherous as we descended. Mama swiped at clinging cobwebs, clearing the path for me.

Finally, the Baron paused outside a bolted door and swung it open. Inside the ghastly chamber, three children waited. The nursery held the scent of a long-disused room. A broken rocking horse slumped in the corner; its once brilliant paint faded. Along a wall shelf, antique toys stood in an inch of dust.

Lined close together, the three children stood like statues. Their ghostly pale skin shocked me. Other than portraits of Queen Elizabeth I, I never saw such white faces. Pressing close to Mama, I grasped her hand and squeezed.

"My son, Vlad," the Baron introduced.

Stepping forward, the fourteen-year-old boy dipped his head in a bow. His black hair seemed plastered to his head. The white part stood out sharply in contrast. His eyes resembled his father's, and he smiled without emotion.

"And my daughters, Luiza and Vanda."

Clutching the younger child's hand, Luiza stepped forward. Vanda halted and stuck three fingers between sanguine lips. Then, she buried her head in her sister's black worsted skirt.

Mama knelt before the two girls and greeted them kindly. Taking Luiza's pale hands, she captured the girl's dark eyes with her sparkling blue ones.

"I am delighted to make your acquaintance," my mother stated, smiling warmly. "I am sure we will get along splendidly."

Twelve-year-old Luiza stared at Mama as though she could not comprehend. Her dark eyes stood out from hollow, dark-rimmed lids. Long black hair hung lankly, framing a thin ghostly face. Her lips looked like an angry slash beneath her aquiline nose, like an unhealed wound.

Vanda remained in the shadow of her older sister. Resembling her older brother and sister, she wore a black sack-like dress and black and white striped stockings, and dark ankle-high boots. I estimated her age at about six or seven.

Patiently the Baron interpreted Mama's statement. The girl nodded solemnly. She could not speak English. I wondered how my mother intended to teach the children. The language barrier would surely stunt the activity.

"Vlad already speaks English, Madam," von Helfin hastily remarked. "You will teach my daughters with his assistance."

The statement did not comfort me. Our misfortunes led us to a strange place. Wistfully, my thoughts turned back to the vicarage and the small schoolroom. The curate, Prentiss Wills, taught the local children. His well-planned lessons provided a healthy education. However, Mama faced a difficult path with the three glum von Helfin children.