Karl disappeared from the lobby, his footsteps heavy on the stairs.
“That’s him,” Justine said, clasping her hands to pinch herself.
“Oh my,” her mother said, the admiration clear in her voice.
Justine grinned. “Isn’t he just?”
**
Karl scrubbed himself red. He shaved as close as he could muster, and he put on his second-best suit. He needed to be presentable for his future wife’s parents. According to Tante Greta, they’d already found an Anglican bishop to perform the ceremony, and if it would be an Anglican wedding, then Tante Greta wanted every other tradition to be Swiss. Karl reminded her that he was Bavarian, but she said it did not count since he was here so much.
Karl wasn’t sure which traditions she wanted, but he supposed Tante Greta would make sure it would happen. On the stairs, Karl met a portly Englishman. The cut of the suit was unmistakably British, and when he got closer, he noticed distinct dark brown eyes, filled with mischief. It had to be Mr. Brewer. He was a large man, much larger than Karl thought he would be, given how small Justine was.
“Good evening,” Karl said.
“Evening, evening.”
Karl slowed his steps to keep pace with the gentleman.
“Are you heading out to dine somewhere?” the large man asked.
Karl shook his head. “I am here to meet my bride’s parents.”
“Ah! How fortuitous!” Mr. Brewer stopped his slow advance. “You must be Mr. Vogel.”
Karl gave him a shallow bow. “At your service.”
“You must be quite something to have caught my girl’s eye. She was never taken in by fools or dandies, thank the Lord.”
“Thank you?” Karl could only take that as a compliment.
“Have you met my wife yet? She’ll be impatient to take your measure. Come along.” Mr. Brewer picked up his pace, and before long, Mr. Brewer presented him to the diminutive Mrs. Brewer.
Mr. Francis Brewer also arrived, and then Tante Greta bustled out and told him that Lady Rascomb had agreed to move Lord Rascomb from the dining room up to a guest room. That meant he had to forego discussion and help move the sick man and then clean the dining room so they might have a proper dinner with their new guests.
When Karl meant to protest, Tante Greta stopped him. “Show your future parents what a good boy you are,” she said in German.
Karl made his excuses, and although he waited until the party had left the dining room to remove his coat, he did notice later that Mrs. Brewer was watching him as he and Tristan moved the heavy wooden bed frame upstairs.
Perhaps Justine’s parents approved of him enough?
**
There was a gunshot.
Justine sat bolt upright in bed. Another one. Then firecrackers? Ophelia rubbed her eyes and turned over to look at Justine.
“What is going on?” Justine demanded. “Is it war?”
Ophelia laughed. “No, but it is your wedding day.”
“Why are they shooting guns? It sounds like they’re right outside the window!” Justine rushed over to peer out the curtain.
“They are right outside the window.” Ophelia yawned. “Austrian custom. Bride awakes at dawn.”
“What? That’s ridiculous!”
“You better announce that you’re up so I can get some more sleep,” Ophelia said with another yawn.
