“I know. I am sorry, Odette. I never imagined . . . that I would . . . I’m sorry.”
“How much money do you owe?” Her voice was hoarse as she held back tears, held back rage and despair at what he had stolen from the children—and from her. “Do you have any shipments or caravans on their way here that you could sell and pay your debt?”
He shook his head. “It is as if heaven conspired against me. I’ve never known such bad fortune. The two ships that were lost were new and very seaworthy. The caravan that was attacked had been well guarded and armed. I cannot understand how it could have happened.” Rutger still was not facing her. “There is only one thing that can save our house.”
Odette’s stomach sank. It must be something truly terrible. Finally she asked, “What is it?”
“If you marry Mathis, he says he will pay all my debts and buy new ships.”
She should have known. Heat seemed to rise into the top of her head like the steam in a covered kettle. She turned and walked out of his office.
Odette walked down the street, her head down, her vision blurred. She bumped into several people, but she didn’t care. The walk home had never seemed so long before. She hadn’t felt this alone since Rutger came for her, all those years ago.
She climbed the stairs to her bed and lay across it, too exhausted to even cry.
Jorgen left Dieter to walk to Peter and Anna’s home. Since Odette said Kathryn was living and working with the servants, and it was just after midday, he hoped to catch her in the kitchen.
Jorgen knocked on the back door of the Vorekens’ kitchen, which was behind the house in a detached stone building. The door opened and Kathryn stood staring at him.
“May I talk to you, Kathryn?”
She opened the door wider. She appeared to be alone in the large one-room kitchen. Jorgen stepped inside.
The heat of the room raised perspiration on his forehead almost immediately. It was a warm summer day, but live coals smoldered in the kitchen hearth as a large piece of meat slowly roasted on the spit and a pot bubbled beside it, hanging from a hook over the red-hot embers.
Kathryn pointed to a stool as she sat on another one, wiping her hands on her apron.
“I wanted to speak with you for a moment. Kathryn . . .” How would he ask her about her time at The Red House when he would not wish to upset her or drive her back there? “I know Peter and Anna are pleased, as we all are, that you are here with them instead of at The Red House. But I need you to tell me something.” He hesitated for a moment. “Do you remember ever seeing Rutger at The Red House? Or did Agnes mention his name, ever?”
Kathryn looked aside, staring at the fire in the large hearth. She shook her head. “Rutger has been good to me. He made sure my little brothers had a good place to live, and he tried to help me. I do not wish to cause him any trouble.”
“Of course not. I understand. But I need to know for Odette’s sake. Please, tell me the truth. It is very important.”
Her jaw clenched, flexing. He waited for her to speak again. Finally she said, “Rutger did come to The Red House, but not through the front door where the other men came in. I remember one of the maids coming to fetch Agnes a few times and saying, ‘Rutger is in the back room.’ Agnes would always go directly to meet him.”
“Do you know why he went there?”
Kathryn shook her head.
“Thank you, Kathryn.”
She just stared at him and he left.
Jorgen walked the short distance down the street to Odette’s house and knocked on the door. A servant let him in, and as he waited for the servant to tell Odette he was there, he stood, trying to prepare himself for her anger and scorn. After all, the last time he’d seen her had been just after she witnessed him kissing another woman. Would she be angry? Would she throw him out?
The servant returned. “I am sorry, Herr Hartman, but Fr?ulein Odette says she cannot see you now. She is very tired and is sleeping.”
“She said that?” The air went out of him, as if someone had punched him in the gut. “Is she sick?”
“No.”
Jorgen nodded his thanks to the servant and walked out.
Why would she still be asleep if she was not sick? She was avoiding him, but how could he blame her? Perhaps it was best that he not yet mention what he was learning about her beloved uncle, who did not appear to be the man they all thought him to be. It would certainly hurt Odette even more.
When Rutger came home that night, Odette was waiting for him. “Are you responsible for the woman who stole my mask and tricked Jorgen into kissing her?”