A Matter of Breeding Read Online Free PDF Page A

through the ensuing silence like pruning shears.
    ‘I am an investor, one of many I am sure, in the breeding firm at the center of this, Premium Breeds. I was assured that such an investment was not only profitable but also highly advantageous to the blood line of the stud. Now this snip of a journalist tells me that the famous Lipizzaner stallions may be hopelessly compromised by defective breeding on the cheap. Good God, if this hits the newspapers they may even revoke my ennoblement.’
    Berthe listened to this calmly, showing no emotion. But she did find it almost humorous that his main concern would be the ‘von’ in front of his family name. If there was fraud involved, there might be worse consequences than that for those involved. But Emile von Werthen was a proud man. Proud of his name and his family history, though his son, Karl, refused to use the ‘von’, calling it an affectation.
    The Werthen money came from the wool trade just as the Werthens themselves had come, not that long ago, from Moravia, hard-working Bohemian Jews hoping to assimilate. It was grandfather Isaac who had established the fortune through a blend of shrewd business sense and twelve-hour days. Werthen’s father, Emile, reaped the rewards of such labor when the ‘von’ was granted in 1876, five years after the family’s conversion to Protestantism.
    They delayed further discussion of the matter until after lunch and Frieda was settled in for her afternoon nap. Then Berthe got out pen and pad and began making notes, recording the address and principal of Premium Breeds, and also listing the name of the journalist, Theo Krensky, who had contacted her father-in-law.
    ‘He gave me his card in case I wanted to be interviewed by him,’ Emile von Werthen thundered. ‘The cheek! What am I, an entertainer?’
    It was a flimsy, inexpensive card that listed Krensky as a correspondent for the new, and somewhat salacious newspaper, the
Österreichische
Kronen Zeitung,
which most people simply called the
Kronen Zeitung
or
Krone.
The name of the paper had nothing at all to do with the Habsburg crown, as many thought; rather, it referred to the monthly cost of the paper, one crown, or
krone.
Thank whomever for the absurd story of vampires in Styria, Berthe thought, or this Lipizzaner scandal might already be making headlines.
    ‘But how can you be sure this journalist has his facts straight?’ Berthe asked.
    The sheepish look he returned let her know that Emile von Werthen had been none too careful about vetting Premium Breeds.
    ‘I was informed that one of the board members of Premium Breeds had a friend in high places in the Agricultural Ministry responsible for management of the Spanish Riding School and its prized stallions.’
    He said this with such obvious distaste that she did not further press him on the subject.
    ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
    ‘Oh would you dear,’ Gertrud von Werthen said. ‘That would be wonderful.’
    Berthe’s professional demeanor seemed to cheer Emile. He made no thanks, but did nod to her in a friendly manner.
    After an uncomfortable silence, Gertrud finally said, ‘We were so sorry to hear of your … your …’
    ‘Thank you,’ Berthe quickly jumped in, knowing the von Werthens were not the sort to have the language to discuss a miscarriage. They had been so happy last summer to learn that Berthe was once again pregnant. However, their little baby was lost to a miscarriage just the month before, and this loss was compounded by the fact of complications following that incident, so that Berthe’s physician was doubtful she could have more children.
    ‘We did not know quite what to say,’ Gertrud added.
    ‘Nor I,’ Berthe said. ‘It’s better now, though.’
    The little lies one tells to make others feel better. Karl had taken it as badly as she had. He had convinced himself the baby was a boy and had even found a name: Sebastian.
    ‘
But I’ll call him Bastian
,’ he would often say.
    The