CH 99

Gently, he opened up the door and found the drawing room filled with all the gifts he had bought Erna. The gifts were laid out in a haphazard manner and turned the room into chaos.

Mrs Fitz had suggested in calling an upholsterer, to tidy up the room a little. Bjorn saw no need, this wasn’t a guest room and he liked seeing Erna surrounded by the gifts he had bought her.

Bjorn leaned on the door frame as he surveyed the scene. Erna was sat at her desk, the faint sound of tapping keys clacking away as she worked in silence. He was amused by the fact that his wife had snuck out in the middle of the night to practice her typing. She studied one of several textbooks spread out over the table and a large, gold elephant stood at her side, as if on guard duty. Bjorn chuckled.

Mrs Fitz had the perfect word for the elephant, ‘eyesore’ and she had argued strongly to have the statue removed. She didn’t want to have to look at it. Erna insisted on keeping it, saying that it was a gift and she would find a use for it.

Bjorn strode across the room with long strides, not thinking that Erna was going to look back at him. She was busy typing away, trusting in the watchful sight of the elephant. She didn’t raise her head until he had stopped at the desk.

“Bjorn,” Erna said in surprise.

“I thought you said you were tired, what are you doing here?”

“I woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep, I should not have napped during the day.”

As she turned to talk to him, he could smell the sweetness on her much stronger, then realised she was sucking on a sweet and saw a glass jar of them next to the typewriter. Erna noticed where Bjorn was looking.

“Oh, these?”

Erna became paranoid that Bjorn was going to scold her for behaving like a child, but he just smiled sweetly at her. She swallowed hard, pushing down the guilt. She had over reacted, she noticed that she had been a little sensitive recently. She found herself becoming more wary of the people around her and even the slightest sound of laughter, she couldn’t help but think they were laughing at her.

“Are you really planning on becoming a typist?” Bjorn said, prodding at the books about the table.

“I didn’t think the person who gifted me this would say such a thing.”

“Indeed, but I thought you would only play with it in moderation,” Bjorn said, pushing a random key on the typewriter.

Erna furrowed her brow in annoyance at the misspelling now on the piece of paper, but her frustration dissipated as Bjorn laughed.

Erna’s sharp emotions faded away and she wondered if there was anything this man could do that would truly make her angry. All she felt was a sweet comfort for him and her laugh chorused with his.

“Since it is still a git from you, I am trying to make use of it as best I can. It’s still a little awkward and clunky, but I think it’ll be nice to be able to write quickly, once I get used to it. I can’t write letters just yet.”

“Why?” Bjorn sounded genuinely interested.

“They say that a receipt-like letter, written on a machine like this, damages a ladies dignity.”

“Mrs Fitz?”

“Yes.”  Erna’s smile faltered, like she could still her the old woman’s admonition. Bjorn’s expression mimicked Erna’s as he recalled similar memories. They shared that moment together and Bjorn could feel deeper connections to Erna take root within him, because of that, Erna found a little courage.

“If I learn to type, could I write you letters with this?”

“Letters?”

“Yes, you like receipts.”

Although Bjorn had been speaking seriously, he couldn’t help but laugh heartily in that moment. The good mood in the room was broken by the sudden chime of the Grandfather Clock in the hallway.

“It’s late,” Bjorn held out his hand. “I think you should put off your dream until tomorrow, my little typist.”

Erna looked up at him and took his large, sleek hand. All the worry and bitterness fell away from her. She felt grateful that she was being a good wife. With nothing but joy and love in her heart, she held his hand tightly.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

Three days later, in the afternoon, Bjorn found a receipt from the Grand Duchess he had been warned about. Mrs Fitz brought in with the rest of the mail. He laughed heartily, recalling the beautiful midsummer dawn, a memory that remained fairly vivid.

“Read it, my prince.”

It seemed like Erna was successful in pulling Mrs Fitz into her little plots, making her an accomplice. It was evident that his wife had a knack for bewitching grandmothers. He opened the letter with a letter opener and read it.

‘My Dearest Bjorn.

Thank you for the wonderful gifts. I will cherish them for the rest of my life. The elephant statue is a bit frightening, but I think I can get used to it if I look at it for a long time.

As the summer changes to autumn, it seems that it has already been a year since we got married. I am determined to keep my promise as a good wife for you, but I am sorry to say that I still have a lot to learn. Never the less, I will continue to work hard.

I was very happy to marry you. Thanks to you, I realised that the walls that surround my small world were actually doors. I will never forget the countless doors we have opened together over the past year and the world beyond.

What was the past year like for you?

I hope that you were happy.

I wonder if the moments that are precious to me, share the same importance to you.

Were we a good couple?

Will we be able to do better in the future?’

Bjorn read through the series of questions, he felt like he could actually hear Erna’s voice asking them from right behind him. He could almost see the serious frown she always wore when concerned, pressing down hard on the question mark key.

‘I hope that we can continue to open many doors together in the future. Someday, I will work even harder to become a person who can give you everything.

Thank you for being so patient with me. I wish you all the best, for many days to come.

Your Wife, Erna Dniester.’

Erna’s handwritten signature was added to the bottom of the letter, adding a personal touch to the message. Bjorn’s eyes lingered on the writing for a long time.

Wife.

He rolled the words around his tongue for a long moment, savouring the sweetness of the memories it held.

Wife, my wife Erna.

Mrs Fitz stood on the other side of the desk, watching Bjorn’s expression change and noticed the special significance behind it.  “How about writing a reply, Your Highness?”

She was well aware of how hard Erna had worked on that letter and how much she wanted to repay her husband’s gifts with heartfelt words. She hoped that Bjorn could reciprocate, but he shook his head casually.

“Later,” he whispered to himself.

“Your Highness?”

“We live in the same house, so, why?”

Bjorn smiled and moved onto the next letter, while Mrs Fitz, knowing the princes stubbornness, refrained from pushing the matter any further.

Bjorn despised writing letters, something that persisted from his childhood. His tutors had said that he would be great at writing letters, in war time, to his enemies. Of course, being the prince, he had the ability to write any number of good natured letters, if he put his mind to it, but Bjorn didn’t have the mind to do so.

In the end, the Royal Family used ghostwriters to write any letters expected from Bjorn and because of this, rumours went around that Bjorn was one of the finest letter writers in the land.

“Which family are hosting the picnic tomorrow?”

Bjorn looked up from the last letter he had read. Mrs Fitz released a sigh and displayed a rather impatient looking expression.

“Duke Heine’s household, Your Highness, Princess Louise’s family.”

“Its going to be a very long day,” Bjorn said with a little mirth.

Mrs Fitz turned with a sigh, she wished she hadn’t bumped into Erna in the hall now. She was going to have to go back to her with disheartening news. No doubt she was going to have that doe eyed look about her, as she expectantly waited on news and a reply from her letter.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

Duke Heine’s summer residence was situated amidst the Abit River, distant from the sea, yet renowned for its scenic forests and grassy fields. Bjorn looked at the landscape with calm eyes.

He gazed upon the landscape. The Heine family picnic marked the initial event of the social season that he would be attending. An event that he had not been too since the honeymoon with Princess Gladys, that was over five years ago.

“Brother,” Louise welcomed him with a smile. “I thought you would never come. It is an honour.”

“You should give thanks to Erna,” Bjorn said, leading his wife before him. “It was only because my wife had already accepted the invitation.”

Louise hardened hearing Bjorn’s words, but conscious of all the judgmental eyes around her, Louise turned to Erna with an amiable smile.

“Thank you for attending and bringing my brother with you, Grand Duchess.”

“No, I also received a lot of help from you, Princess,” Erna recited the long rehearsed greeting. “I am so grateful that you invited out to such a beautiful pla…”

The words stuck in Erna’s throat as she noticed familiar face.

Pavel.

As she muttered the name like a sigh, Bjorn and Louise shifted their gaze and noticed where Erna was looking.

“Ah, I invited him as well. I saw the portraits of the Grand Duke and his wife, I can see that he is very talented painter. So, today I commissioned him to draw our children. Come to think of it, didn’t you say that the Grand Duchess and Pavel Lore share the same home town?”

“Yes, yes I did,” Bjorn said.

Erna looked at Bjorn with nervous eyes. Bjorn didn’t like Pavel. During the last painting session, Erna became acutely aware of the fact. She noticed Bjorn staring at the young man, with the same calm, indifferent expression as he always held.

Pavel also spotted them. Suppressing a sudden stomach ache, Erna held her breath and her hands began to tremble slightly. She held onto her parasol as tightly as she could.