Eva Ibbotson - The Star of Kazan

The maid looked down at her feet. ‘Switzerland,’ she said at last. ‘And Herr Oswald too.’

‘What about Annika?’ asked Professor Emil. ‘Could we see Annika? We’re old friends from Vienna.’

Another slow shake of the head.

‘Did she go to Switzerland too?’

The maid sighed. ‘No. I don’t know where Annika went. We weren’t told. There’s only me and my daughter here.’

She made no attempt to show them into the house. Short of knocking her over there was no way they could see Annika’s home.

‘What about Annika’s cousin, Gudrun. Can we see her? We’d like to give her a message for Annika.’

Ellie had spoken for the first time, and the maid curled her lip at the Viennese accent.

‘Fräulein von Seltzer and her mother are at their home.’

‘And where is that?’ asked Professor Julius.

‘It’s called Felsenheim.’

And the door was shut in their faces.

They made their way back to the road and stopped a farmer in his cart, who not only told them where Felsenheim was but gave them a lift as far as the turning into the forest.

Mathilde and Gudrun were both at home, and when she saw a group of people coming up the path, Mathilde was pleased. She was lonely and she was bored and she was very annoyed with her sister, who had taken Oswald to Switzerland yet had refused to take her. But when the professors introduced themselves, standing among the antlers and stuffed heads in the hall, she drew back. Clearly, like the maid at Spittal, she had been told to say nothing.

But now Ellie was in a relentless mood.

‘Could I speak to Gudrun, please?’ she said. ‘We’d like to give her a message for Annika. I know they were good friends.’

Mathilde hesitated — but at that moment Gudrun came into the room. She was wearing a red scarf that Ellie instantly recognized. Ellie’s heart began to pound. Had they killed Annika and buried her in the forest and taken her clothes? Nothing seemed impossible in this strange place.

Gudrun was looking pale and sad again. The supply of beautiful clothes seemed to have dried up, her mother and her aunt had quarrelled, and she was lonely. She had written three times to Hermann and not had a single line in reply.

And she was jealous of Annika.

‘They’ve sent her to a palace,’ she told Ellie. ‘I wanted to go too, but they wouldn’t let me.’

‘A palace?’ asked Emil. ‘What sort of a palace?’

‘Gudrun, be quiet,’ said Mathilde urgently.

But Gudrun took no notice. ‘It’s called Grossenfluss. It’s near Potsdam and it’s very grand.’

‘That’s enough, Gudrun,’ said Mathilda, and, taking her daughter by the arm, she bundled her out of the door.

At Bad Haxenfeld the professors found they had half an hour to wait before the night train back to Vienna. It had been a most unsatisfactory visit, but there was nothing more to be done for the time being.

But it now seemed that Ellie had gone mad.

‘I’m not coming back to Vienna,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to go and see for myself.’

‘See what for yourself?’

‘This Grossenfluss place. This palace. What’s Annika doing in a palace?’

‘Ellie, for goodness’ sake! What on earth could you do? If Annika’s in a palace she can’t be having a bad time.’

But Ellie was beyond reason. ‘I just have to go and see… I’ll make up the time — I’ll work all my Sundays next month. There’s a train to Potsdam in the morning. I’ll sleep in the waiting room.’

‘Ellie, you can’t stay here all night.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ said Ellie. ‘I’ve got plenty of money.’

But she did not look fine. Julius and Emil turned to each other. They could see how this was going to end — and they were very much displeased. They were extremely fond of Ellie, but one did not take orders from one’s cook.

Gudrun had not been lying. Grossenfluss was a palace. It was a very large and very grand palace, perhaps the largest and grandest palace in East Prussia. Built in 1723 by Prince Mettenburg, the front facade measured 400 metres in length. The roof was guarded by 100 lead warriors with drawn bows; the niches and ledges were crammed with warlike carvings: the heads of captured Turks, spiked helmets, crossed swords and cavalry horses with fiery nostrils. On either side of the front door stood two stone heroes, each crushing a wriggling traitor under his foot.

Inside there were vaulted stone corridors, fortified windows and a vast staircase of marble surrounding a stairwell three floors deep.

But this palace, which looked as though it had been built for ogres or giants, was not used now for parties and pomp. It had become a school.

Not, however, an ordinary school. A school for Daughters of the Nobility and a very select and special place, as Frau Edeltraut had explained to Annika when at last she had revealed the surprise she had prepared for her.

‘It’s such wonderful news!’ Frau Edeltraut had said, taking Annika’s hand as they sat side by side on the sofa in her boudoir. ‘They have accepted you!’

‘Who?’ Annika was bewildered. ‘Who has accepted me?’

‘The ladies of Grossenfluss! The committee! And you can start next week.’

Annika was still totally at sea. ‘But what is… Grossenfluss?’

‘Oh, Annika,’ her mother laughed merrily, ‘I always forget where you were brought up. Grossenfluss is one of the most famous schools in Germany. It only accepts daughters of the nobility and it trains them to become worthy women of the Fatherland, able to take their place anywhere in society. The principal, Fräulein von Donner, has the Order of the Closed Fist, one of the highest awards which the emperor gives, and it is very rarely awarded to a woman. I was so worried that they would not let you come because of… well, your father. I could not swear to the purity of his birth. But when I told them what a dear good girl you were, they relented. I cannot tell you how pleased I am for you. Your future is assured. Girls who have been to Grossenfluss can become ladies-in-waiting, or companions to high-born widows. Nothing is impossible for them.’

‘But… do you mean I have to go away? To stay in the school all the time, like Hermann?’

‘Well, yes, my dear, naturally. There will be so much for you to learn — more than children who have… who have been brought up in a good home from the start. But the time will fly. In seven years you will be ready to go out into the world again, and how grateful you will be to the people who have taught you so much.’

Annika had risen from the sofa, and walked over to the window, keeping her face turned away from her mother.

‘I don’t want to go away,’ she said, trying to keep her voice steady. ‘I’ve only just found you. I’ve only just come.’

‘Now, my dear, you mustn’t talk like a common little girl. Like a servant. In our class — the class to which you now belong — we are trained to think of the future. We are trained to achieve and to conquer and to let nothing stand in our way.’

But Annika was overwhelmed by misery. She was to go away, not back to Vienna, but to strangers, to a world she knew nothing about. And, unable to help herself, she threw herself sobbing into her mother’s arms. ‘Please, please, please, don’t send me away,’ she begged. ‘I’ll do anything, but please don’t send me to that place.’

And she buried her head in her mother’s lap, the first time she had dared to do so.

‘Oh, Annika, my dearest child, you break my heart,’ said Edeltraut, stroking Annika’s hair. ‘I was so sure you would be delighted. Think of Hermann.’

‘But I’m not Hermann, I’m me, and I don’t want to be a lady-in-waiting. I just want to be at home. Please, please, don’t make me go. I’ll do anything—’