Papa hopped out of the carriage when it’d just barely come to a stop. Down by the entrance to our building stood Herr Hagenauer, our landlord, and he beamed as Papa came up to him to close his hands in a hearty shake. There was a hasty conversation about the rent, about giving us more time to pay for the months we’d been gone. I waited until Woferl slid off his seat to follow our father before I reached out to touch my mother’s arm.
“Mama, please,” I whispered, my gaze darting to where Papa and Herr Hagenauer were chatting loudly. She glanced back atme. “Can you get our mail and see if there is any for me?”
Her brows lifted in surprise. “Just for you, Nannerl?” She knew to whisper it.
I flushed hot and hoped no one else could see it. “Yes, Mama,” I murmured.
She frowned. “And from whom?”
“His name is Johann.” I swallowed, suddenly unsure whether Mama would keep a secret like this for me. “He attended one of our concerts and said he wanted to write with his best wishes.”
My words trailed off under my mother’s stern gaze. “A boy,” she murmured. “And does your father know who Johann is?”
“He did not like him very much. Please, Mama,” I whispered, turning my eyes down. “He is writing from Frankfurt.”
I didn’t know what she saw in my face to make her take pity on me. Perhaps my expression triggered for her memories of long ago, of an age when she was not yet married. Whatever the reason, she sighed, shook her head, and stepped off the carriage, holding her hand out to take Sebastian’s outstretched one.
“I will see to it,” she said over her shoulder to me.
And sure enough, by the time we reached our flat with our luggage stacked around the door, and Papa had stepped out in a hurry to the archbishop’s court, Mama found me alone in the bedchamber and handed me three brown envelopes, written in a curling script.
I glanced up at her, relieved, but she did not speak. Instead, she squeezed my shoulder once, then left the room and quietly closed the door. Outside, the muffled sounds of Woferl playing the clavier wafted to me. He would be preoccupied for a while yet, so much had he missed his instrument. My attention shifted back to the envelopes in my hand. I sat with my back to the door, so thatI could stop anyone who might want to come into the room, then fluffed my skirts out around me and pushed a finger underneath the first envelope’s flap. The wax seal broke with a single pop.
The handwriting on the letter inside matched the script on the envelope itself—curling and beautiful, the writing of a cultured boy—and I found myself smiling as I read it.
To my Fräulein Mozart,
Do you know, when I returned home to Frankfurt, the very first thing I did was sketch what I remembered of you? I am sketching a great deal. I’m afraid my art is not as miraculous as yours, but I am doing it all the same, drawing just as you may be composing.
My father has decided to send me to law school here in Frankfurt. I’d wanted to find a university farther away, but staying in Germany will not be so bad, and I can hope to receive letters from you more frequently.
I think of you often. Sometimes I imagine I will catch you standing outside our local bakery shop, or out in the square, just like I’d seen you that day in London. But then I suppose I am just a simple young man, with optimistic thoughts. Please tell me if you’ll come to perform in Frankfurt again. I will wait for you.
Until we meet again, I will be your hopeful
Johann
I was glad that no one was here to see the blush on my face, but I touched my cheeks and did not feel ashamed of it. I folded the letter and reached for the second. Outside, Woferl finished playing one menuett and began another, one I’d never heard before. Perhaps he was making it up as he went. I didn’t dwell on it as I eagerly began to read Johann’s next letter.
To my Fräulein Mozart,
You may not know it, but word has reached Frankfurt that you and your family have taken the Dutch completely by surprise, and that they cannot believe their good fortune. I heard of this in passing on the street. Think, Nannerl, that you have as a young woman already earned such popularity as to be mentioned by strangers in passing! I am more astonished and impressed by you than anyone I’ve ever met.
I am writing a poem. I have discovered that my writing skills are quite a bit stronger than my painting. I am relieved that you have never seen my art. I should be embarrassed.
If you are ever in Frankfurt, as you know, I will always be at leisure to see you.
Johann
I leaned my head back against the door and closed my eyes. Johann could not know that anything he heard on the streetsabout me was always solely in reference to my brother. Still, the brightness leaking from his words warmed me. The dream I’d once had of us sitting under a night sky now came back to me, as fully formed as if it had really happened.
I let myself savor it until I heard Woferl finish his second menuett and begin playing a third, a melancholy piece in a minor key. Then I broke the wax seal on the third letter and began to read.
I flung it away in fright. A soft cry escaped from my lips.
My Darling Fräulein,
You have helped me. A bargain is a bargain. Come to me in Vienna, and I shall take you to the ball.
