Winter Passing (10 page)

“That better explains his attitude, but . . .”

“But it does not help you much.” The professor nodded.

“That sounds selfish, I know.”

“It is natural. But perhaps I can help.”

“You’re still willing to help even after what I told you?”

“If she was Tatianna Hoffman and not Celia Müller, we will find that out. I have nothing to lose here. An historical mystery is always of interest to me, and this one is intriguing.”

Darby smiled and sighed in one breath. “Thank you.”

“First, tell me what you know about your family. Then let us try to recreate it all.”

Professor Voss wrote as she spoke, sometimes looking at papers she handed him. He’d circle one note, then cross out another. After an hour, he sighed and looked at the mess of notes on several pieces of paper.

“Let us go over what we do know.” He turned the papers around. The scribbles made little sense until he spoke and pointed to diagrams and connecting lines. “Here is Gunther and Celia who are married, and Celia is expecting a child. Celia and Tatianna are friends. Do you know if Tatianna was married?”

“I don’t know anything except her last name and that she was my grandmother’s friend.”

“Then we will keep Tatianna alone here.” He pointed with the pen.

“Most of your grandmother’s family were sent to the camps?”

“Her mother died when she was young, and one brother left for America before my grandmother was born. Her father, aunt, and younger brother were sent to concentration camps.”

The professor drew another circle, connecting a dotted line to Celia. “Why has the escaped uncle not tried to locate the family inheritance?”

“I don’t know. My Uncle Marc has never mentioned it in my presence. I’ll ask when I see him over the holidays.”

“Your great-uncle cannot help us prove your grandmother’s identity if he left the country before she was born.”

“Right.”

“Why did he leave Austria?”

“I don’t know that either. He must have left when he was very young, because he doesn’t seem much older than my grandmother was. I don’t even know if he went with family members or not, but it must have been twenty years before the war.”

“I am assuming the family was Jewish.”

“My grandmother’s mother was an Austrian Jew.”

“That was a difficult time for mixed marriages.” The professor scratched his chin in thought. “Here is what I imagine. The Langes have this valuable inheritance.” He picked up the information on the coins. “Two Celtic coins from Hallstatt. I wonder why they were not put in the Celtic museum in Hallstatt instead of made to be part of a family heirloom?”

“I didn’t even know the Celts had coins, Professor.”

“That is not my area of study either. But Lange. That sounds familiar. I will do some checking.” He scribbled on the paper and picked up the other papers. “Then, this other item. A brooch—wait a minute, what is this? Could this be possible? The brooch was a gift from Sissi?”

“Who?”

“Empress Elizabeth, called Sissi, is probably the best-known Austrian empress, or Austrian woman, in our history. You must have seen pictures of her in the storefronts.”

“I think I did see some candy with a princess or queen on it.”

“Probably Sissi. She was an amazing woman, deserving of the popularity she continues to have over a hundred years after her death. There have been several movies and plays about her. She would be like . . . whom could I compare her to? Most often Sissi and Princess Diana of Wales have been compared because both were great beauties, lived healthy and active lifestyles, were strong and determined women, though rebellious and uncomfortable with royal traditions, and both experienced unfortunate deaths. It is quite astounding to consider that this heirloom could have been hers. But you know, I believe I heard a rumor of such a story—that must be why Lange sounds familiar to me.”

“How did Elizabeth die?”

“She was stabbed in 1898 by a young anarchist beside a Swiss lake, though the man actually planned to kill another dignitary.”

“I don’t remember much about the story my grandmother told me. She said a great queen gave it to her grandfather when he helped her after a riding accident.”

“Yes, let me translate this paper for you. It was written by Herbert Lange in 1887 and must have been handed down by family members since that time. Herbert was visiting Bad Ischl and, while on a walk, he claims to have seen Empress Sissi fall from her horse. He helped her up and caught the horse for her. He says she asked him to promise not to tell anyone about the fall.”

Professor Voss stood up with the paper in hand. “This is plausible, for Sissi was an avid rider even as she aged. She was an excellent athlete in a time when women rarely did such things. This paper says that Sissi asked Herbert not to tell anyone she had fallen, because Emperor Franz Joseph did not want her riding if she continued to fall. A few months later, Sissi invited Herbert and his wife to the Kaiservilla in Bad Ischl, where she presented them with her personal emerald brooch for keeping her secret and for his chivalrous help. Herbert and his wife never told anyone until after Sissi was murdered eleven years later.”

The professor whistled in awe. “You know, I am certain I have heard something of this story, which I assumed was only a legend. If I remember correctly, Herbert Lange claimed the heirloom after Sissi’s death, but most people did not believe the authenticity. Supposedly, and this paper concurs with what I have heard, Emperor Franz Joseph himself gave a written document confirming to the family that the brooch did belong to his wife. He gave authenticity to the story that the brooch was given to the family, evidently the Lange family, as a gift. He wrote this paper after Sissi’s death when Herbert Lange claimed the story. But I do not see a copy of the letter from the emperor here.”

“I haven’t found it.”

“Then the entire story and Franz Joseph’s letter could all be legend, perhaps the existence of the brooch also.”

“My grandmother said she saw it when she was a child.”

“Interesting. And why would your grandmother try to search for the brooch if she did not believe it existed? I believe it could all be true. This record, written in 1887 and amended in 1900 after Sissi’s death, appears accurate. And I am certain I have heard the same story, though I must go back and discover from where.”

Darby sighed and rubbed her eyes. “We’re getting more rabbit trails than facts.”

“Rabbit trails?”

“More questions.”

“Yes. But, Darby, you do not realize the magnitude of this story. The story is only a hundred years old, which is fairly young for European history. We do not know whether the legend really involves your family or if the brooch actually was a gift from Empress Sissi. If it is true, this piece would be extremely valuable. Anything associated with Sissi is worth a lot, but especially jewelry from her collection and given as a gift. Something like this, even as a rumor, would have been fascinating to the Nazis, or to anyone seeking wealth. And there was probably a lot more information sixty years ago. We now have a war to lose any evidence, including your family. But this is amazing—you could be the rightful heir. Or perhaps your uncle would be. My advice, either way, is not to spread this information around. Even today, the story could spawn a media frenzy or treasure hunt crusade, or even worse, possible danger. These coins and especially the brooch could be priceless if found today. It is possible that your family was sent to their death because of it, and we know there are greedy men and women in every generation.”

Darby hadn’t considered any danger besides her mother’s list of warnings, such as “watch out in train stations.” She had considered the story as long ago, and her focus had been on finding Tatianna, not the Lange heirlooms. It also shocked Darby that the story involving an Austrian empress, ancient coins, and a mysterious brooch could actually be factual. When Grandma Celia would tell the story, Darby always said the appropriate
oohs
and
aahs
, but that was all.

“We are finding pieces of the puzzle. Let us return to your grandmother.”

“My weak link.”

“Possibly, but there may be other options. If Brant investigated, then we know there was most likely an actual Celia Lange Müller. It would be quite a convenient fact for a Nazi interested in the Lange heirlooms to know that Celia’s father married a Jewish woman. After the Anschluß, German law became Austrian law. It was illegal to have biracial marriages. Now his wife was dead, but still this man’s children were half Jew. If someone wanted the Lange treasures, here could be a perfect opportunity. So perhaps they take Celia’s father into custody. Perhaps Celia and her husband, Gunther Müller, realize that, for her own safety, Celia must leave the country. And here, yes, this could be the answer.” Professor Voss looked up from the papers and smiled. “Perhaps Celia uses her friend’s papers and escapes the country as Tatianna Hoffman.”

Darby stared at the Professor and spoke slowly, “That could be it. That would explain her coming to the United States and having Tatianna’s papers. Though it still doesn’t explain the birthplace mix-up. Remember that all my grandmother’s papers say she was born in Vienna.”

“That is to be expected.”

“Why?”

“If Tatianna were born in Vienna, and your grandmother came to the United States using those papers, she would be able to change her name, but not her birthplace, right?”

“Probably not. So she always held to the record on any paperwork.”

“Also, let us think about this. Countries were very tough on immigrants at that time. Many, many people were trying to flee from Nazi Germany and Austria with the flood increasing as the Nazis conquered most of Europe. It would be difficult enough for a young, pregnant woman to come to America. Even harder if she admitted the papers she held were not her own, and that she was half Jewish. If Celia had said, ‘Please let me come to your country, but I am not who my papers say I am,’ she most likely would have been denied.”

“So she kept the false name of Tatianna until her immigration. Then once in the United States, she changed her name back to Celia Lange Müller, but—”

“She could not change her birthplace,” they said together.

“But wouldn’t Tatianna need her papers if she remained?”

“Yes, she would need them, but if she was not Jewish, then it would not be too serious. Tatianna could apply for new copies, saying her old ones were lost or stolen. And we know she was not Jewish or it would say so on these papers.” The professor held up the worn passport and looked through it again.

Darby sat up in the chair. “If Tatianna is alive, we can discover the truth.”

“And that is a possibility and where we need to look next.”

“Grandma’s comments about Tatianna needing her name—she may have meant returning these papers to her. Grandma told me that I’d find the information in the safe, and that’s where I found these items.”

“That seems to be stretching it a bit, but then your grandmother was dying. She might have wanted you to find Tatianna if they lost contact over the years. Giving the papers back may have been Celia’s way of saying thank you for saving her life. That might have been her desire.”

“Yes, that would be like Grandma. She’d want to thank Tatianna and show her what her gift produced—another generation of people.”

Professor Voss touched his fingertips together, deep in thought. “One life for a new generation of lives. Quite amazing.”

“How do we find Tatianna? Do we check phone directories? If she married, her last name would be changed.”

“There are several routes available. If Tatianna had been Jewish, we could have looked through the World Jewish Congress—they have done amazing work locating people and connecting families. But there are other organizations, including the International Red Cross, that have lists of displaced persons and refugees.”

“And we have Tatianna’s birthplace and can contact Vienna for records, perhaps a marriage or death certificate.”

“It looks like we have our work cut out for us.” The professor glanced at the clock on his desk. “The morning has escaped us, and my wife and daughter will be arriving home from visiting family.”

“I didn’t realize I’d kept you so long. I’m very sorry.” Darby stood up.

“Please, do not apologize. I am enthralled by this story.”

Darby began to put the papers in their rightful folders. She placed one into her satchel and noticed the bundle at the bottom.

“The letters.”

“Excuse me?”

Darby extracted the yellowed envelopes, wrapped in plastic—treasures she couldn’t read. “They were with my grandmother’s things, and I noticed one addressed to Tatianna. They’re in German, and I didn’t have time to find someone who could read them. Perhaps there’s information that will help us find Tatianna.”

She held them for a moment. They were a part of her grandmother’s heart—the part Darby knew nothing about. Slowly she handed them to the professor. He accepted them reverently.

“If you don’t mind, you could take them with you and read them.”

“You would allow me to take them?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you. I will take excellent care.” The exchange of letters was a pact of trust. Darby knew Peter Voss understood that also.

“I will make copies of the letters and translate them. My wife would be interested. Do you mind if I share them with her?”

“Not at all. I could use all the help I can get.” Darby put her purse on her shoulder.

The professor shook her hand. “Then we will meet again. How about Monday evening?”

“Monday evening would be great.”

“Perhaps you can come to dinner. I will discuss it with my wife and call you at your hotel. I have the number.”

“Great—I’d love to meet her, and the daughter who draws such beautiful pictures.”

Darby’s eyes caressed the letters once again. She was putting her complete trust in this man she had just met. Yet she knew he understood and wanted to find the truth. Finally, there was someone on her side.

That night she couldn’t sleep. The letters were being read, maybe at that very moment. Darby flipped through the TV channels, looking for a diversion. She found it in a Brad Pitt movie,
Legends of the Fall
, though it was so odd seeing native Americans and rugged Pitt speaking German that the drama turned comical.