I waited in the dark taxi, ignoring the stares of the driver, while Mr. Bauer went to a door and spoke with a woman in an ice blue dress. She must have been on her way out for the evening, as she hustled us in and made us wait while she straightened her earrings in the hall mirror. She was a lovely woman, with a rhinestone comb in her hair and masses of chiffon flowers along the dipping neckline of her dress. Mr. Bauer introduced her as “Tante Lili” and kissed her on the cheek.
The front hall showed a house shabby but with a faded elegance. A chandelier in need of a dusting, a mirrored hat stand with a man’s derby, and a somewhat bald velveteen sofa. A man in ill-fitting livery came through a swinging door balancing a tray with little glasses full of golden liquid. I’d never been offered an aperitif and certainly not in the front hall. I shook my head no, but Tante Lili took one from the tray and pressed it into my hands. I took a sip. Whatever it was, it was bitter and made my tongue feel warm. Mr. Bauer drank two in quick succession.
As Tante Lili pinched her cheeks, she spoke rapidly to her nephew in French. I wondered why they didn’t speak German. It was all so strange and I was beginning to get a headache. I took another sip. Beneath the bitterness I tasted sweet oranges.
Finally Tante Lili broke off talking with a wave of her hand. She bustled away through the swinging door the manservant had used.
Mr. Bauer looked suddenly uncertain. “Would you please like to sit?”
“Here?” Was there to be no supper? No drawing room?
“If you would like.” He pulled off his cap. In the gesture he looked younger. “We could talk. We do not know each other well.”
I set my glass on the hat stand. “If you please, I would like to be shown to my room, Mr. Bauer. It has been a tiring day.”
He set his cap down next to my glass. “I had hoped for more time to become friends.”
Tante Lili returned then with a bottle to refill the glasses. I glanced up the dark staircase.
She smiled and called me a dear waif, or so he said. “She does not speak English, but she said you can stay. She asked if you would like to see the bedroom.”
“Please.” I tightened my grip on the valise. “I would like that very much.”
Tante Lili laughed at this and then pinched my cheek.
I stepped backwards, but Mr. Bauer caught my arm and said, “She will show you to your room.”
She rolled her eyes at him and he followed up the stairs with my valise. We passed shadowed portraits on the stairway, portraits of couples, of dancers. Not as fine a quality as Monsieur Crépet’s, I could tell that much, but when I paused to look, Mr. Bauer put a hand on my shoulder and steered me up. Tante Lili giggled, high like a girl.
The room was plain, with a narrow bed and none-too-clean blanket. A washstand and a stool with a pillow were the only other furnishings. Mr. Bauer put my valise on the bed as Tante Lili bustled out to fill the water pitcher. I was exhausted.
“You must rest, please. Tomorrow we will begin the search for your mother.”
Though I felt more alone in this place than I ever had at Mille Mots, I forced a smile. “Sir, I thank you.”
He frowned. “Please, Stefan. And I can call you Clare.”
I held my coat tight. “Maybe.”
He looked back over his shoulder at the open doorway. “Fräulein…Clare. You appreciate my help, yes?”
“Yes, very much.”
He turned back to me, took a step closer, and I realized how tall he was, taller even than Luc. “And if all I asked for in return was your friendship?”
Tante Lili pushed through the doorway in a slide of satin and a cloud of perfume. She glared at Mr. Bauer—Stefan—and set the pitcher on the washstand. He met her glare and something seemed to pass between them.
“I will leave you to your washing,” he said with a stiff bow, following Tante Lili out. I heard whispering behind the closed door, but then the hallway was finally silent.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. It wasn’t late, but the night already seemed too long. I slipped from my jacket and looked around for a wardrobe or, at the very least, a peg, but saw nowhere to hang it. There wasn’t even, I realized, a chest of drawers in the room. Guests must not stay long at Tante Lili’s. I tossed the jacket onto the bed. My hat I unpinned and set on the shelf of the washstand.
I filled the washbasin. I didn’t see any soap, but there was a towel that looked clean and I washed my face and neck. My face in the mirror was pale. I unbuttoned my dress, one of the new ones Madame had ordered for me, with carved buttons that ran all the way down the front.
The dress, I smoothed out and draped on the bed next to my coat. I slipped from my petticoats and shook them out. I unsnapped the valise and found my folded nightgown. It was the only thing I’d packed apart from a clean pair of socks, my comb, and Mother’s letter in the pocket of my coat. In only my combinations and elastic corset, I stood in front of the mirrored washstand. I untied my ribbon and ran hands through my hair. It was damp at the temples. My head ached.
In the mirror, with the door ajar, I saw Stefan Bauer watching me.
I whirled around and wrapped my arms around myself. “Stefan.”
He actually smiled at that and pushed the door open farther. “It is Stefan now?” He stepped into the room. “Ah, it is nice when you say that.”
“Don’t come in here.” I backed up into the washstand. Water sloshed out of the basin against my back. “Please.”
“I am sure you don’t think I would hurt you, fräulein.” He set an empty glass on the wooden stool. I wondered how many times it had been refilled. “I want only to say good night.”
My arms broke out in goose bumps. “Why were you watching me?”
“Clare.” He licked his lips. “You are nice to watch.”
I felt behind me until the hat pin scratched across my hand. I grabbed it and swung it out in front of me.
“Please!” he cried, but took a step back.
“I’ll stab out your eye.” Holding the long pin in front of me, I circled back towards the bed. “I will.” He moved farther into the room.
“Please, I do not wish to hurt you.” He held up his hands, palms out. “You will see I have no weapons.”
The backs of my knees hit the bed.
“Clare.” He looked at my hat pin, then looked at my face. “We are friends.”
With my other hand, I felt behind me for the linen of my jacket and the cracked leather of the small valise.
“I wish only to become better friends.” He took two steps across the room. “Rotkäppchen, I am not a wolf. You are safe with me.”
I hooked fingers into the handle of the valise and swung it up towards him.
It wasn’t a big swing, but I was near enough that it hit him in the face. Even almost empty, it made a thud. He cried out and stumbled back against the stool. The glass fell and shattered. My stockings slithered out of the bag. I swung it again, this time letting go. I heard a thump and a crack, but didn’t stay to see where I had hit. Snatching up my jacket and dress in a bundle of cloth, I fled the room.
Downstairs, Tante Lili sat on the velveteen sofa with a man, her dress unfastened to the waist. She winked at me as I passed. Upstairs, I heard a string of German curses.
I ran out into the night.
The next morning, Clare didn’t come down to breakfast. Yvette told Maman that she wasn’t in her room. Her bed was unslept in and her valise gone.
Maman was frantic. She dispatched the maids, the butler, even Marthe and Papa, to comb the house and the grounds. Clare couldn’t have gone far, could she?
I checked the chapel courtyard, the chestnut tree, and the fairy woods beyond. I brought Bede, who bounded off to bring me sticks, but no Clare. I walked as far as Brindeau farm. Though I had no candle, I clenched my fists and walked four steps into the big cave. “Clare?” I called out. “Clare?” There was no reply but my echo.