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Finding him wasn’t so hard really. Gilbert Beilschimdt was a well-known name as far as books on military strategy and history went. Somehow it wasn’t what Elizaveta would expect from her old friend at all. That might seem rude, but she doesn’t mean it in a slighting way. Even as a child, Gilbert had kept meticulous journals, but he’d been very private about such things. She had tried to read one once and had been swiftly and roughly tackled to the ground.
Perhaps that was why he published so many books on war and history- they were impersonal but skillfully written enough to garner praise. He’d even traveled to the United States to research his most recent volume on the tactics of the armies during the War of the Secession. This isn’t the book that Elizaveta was interested in asking him about. No, she was more interested in a single volume of fairy tales that she had just finished reading. The author’s name is listed as Friedrich Hoffmann, but Elizaveta knows that only Gilbert could’ve wrote this.
She makes her way through the library, glancing at the people at the tables and chairs. Some are reading and others are writing. None of them look like the man whose stern face she’d seen in the newspaper or the boy that she remembered from when she was young. He should be here somewhere if the adorable little boy that she had talked to at his address was telling the truth.
When she turns a corner at the end of a row of shelves, there Gilbert sits, and she knows him instantly. She reaches up to straighten her hat on her perfectly coiffed hair. Then she straightens her dress and her collar. Really, she should make a good impression on him. She wonders… would he recognize her? After all, he had never seen her as a woman.
—
“Can I get an autograph then?” says a rich teasing voice.
Gilbert looks up into the eyes of perhaps one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen. A new face but one that is somehow familiar even if he can’t place exactly why. The shape of the nose and the bright green eyes…
Gilbert grins, turning towards her and looking into her face a bit more fully. Oh yes, very beautiful indeed. “I always have time for a fan of mine. Do I know you?”
It wasn’t like he was recognized often for his work. There was sometimes an uptick of being recognized after a story ran in the paper about a new book, and that must be what this was. Right?
That doesn’t quite add up in his head because she had tracked him down in a library on a normal day with a book to sign…
“We’ve met,” she says simply, the smile she flashes him dimpled and sweet. She doesn’t elaborate on that, and instead turns the book in her hands around and puts in in front of him.
Of course, Gilbert would like to say he responded well- that he was calm and he kept his face neutral and cool. He’d love to say that not an ounce of surprise flickered across his expression while he gazed down at the cover of the book.
The Wood Fairy and Other Childhood Tales by Friedrich Hoffmann.
Nope, as much as he'd like to say any of that, it simply isn't true. He doesn't keep it together at all. Heat rushes to his face and he knows his expression must be one of shock. It takes him a few seconds to register that she’s still looking down at him with a knowing smile on her lips.
“This says Friedrich Hoffmann,” he says finally. “That’s not my name at all. If you must know—“
But she cuts him off, “I know what it says, but I have read it. I know the only man who could’ve written it is an old friend of mine- Gilbert Beilschmidt.”
Hungarian- that’s the accent on her words. It was light, as though she’d been speaking German for a very long time, but it was there. It was also familiar. Without any clues as to where he knows her from, he is left desperately trying to grapple with figuring out her identity. He’d think he could remember a woman as beautiful as this…
So he doesn’t speak yet, brows knitting and his mouth twisting into a displeased expression. He hates to be at a disadvantage at the best of times, and the way that her pretty green eyes are lit up with amusement implies she knows this as well. That only makes him more annoyed. She clearly knew that he published this under an nom de plume for a reason, and she's trying to tease him over it.
The woman continues when he doesn’t respond. “You see, some of the fairies and the monsters in these stories are part of a grand make believe game I used to play with Gilbert. Only he could know of them all.”
Gilbert had known several Hungarians growing up, but none of them had been girls. Perhaps that’s why his mind freezes, running through kids he’d known back then. When it finally clicks- the characters he’d borrowed, the eyes, the shape of the nose- his eyes go wide. Once again he’s not nearly as in control of his own expression as he wishes he was.
“István?!” he says, hating the incredulity in his own voice. “István Héderváry? You’ve gotten… I mean, you’ve changed…”
He almost says “You’ve gotten beautiful” but he manages to correct himself. Calling a woman beautiful might be one thing but to call his old friend that… was quite a different story.
“I haven’t changed so much as you might think,” she says back, tone and expression arch. “You have though. Your ears finally seem the right size for your face. You are much more handsome now.”
“What?! I have always been handsome, thank you very much. There was nothing wrong with my ears.” Gilbert blushes again, and he reaches up to cover his ears protectively for a moment, scowling. It takes a few moments of irate sputtering before he manages to push the shock down, cover it with his own brand of stiff, huffy anger. “You’re as rude as I remember!”
“I called you handsome,” she replies with a teasing smile, and then she slides into the chair opposite of him.
Gilbert scowls and pushes the book back toward her. “I didn’t invite you to sit. You came a long way to pick a fight. Last I saw you, you were a boy, and you were going back to Budapest.” Honestly… he’s not sure what confuses him more- that István showed up dressed like this or that he had found the book of fairy tales he’d written…
After all, several of the stories in the book were inspired by their games together as a kid. Although he wouldn’t admit it, Gilbert had admired István when they were young. He was everything a young striking boy should be. Strong, smart, handsome- skilled at just about everything. Add to that the stories that István would spin about the monsters and the fairies in the woods, well, Gilbert had been torn between admiration and jealousy. When he’d started telling Ludwig fairy tales, it only made sense to use the creatures he and István would invent for their playtime as children.
But he’d never considered István finding them, much less to have the man– the woman?– himself to show up like this after so many years apart.
–
Elizaveta is pleased with Gilbert’s reaction to her. She’d teased him a little and he’d been just as expressive as she remembered. He’d been a blustery child as well, loud and brash and prone to frown. There was that frown now from across the table.
“I didn’t come here to fight… Or not just to fight. I decided to move back here,” she says as she takes the book back. “I sought you out because I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your stories, especially the ones about the Forest Dragon and the Wood Fairy.”
Gilbert turns ever so lightly pink, but he smirks. “Of course you like them. I took your old shitty play pretend characters and made an actual story out of them.”
“I had hoped you were nostalgic for our childhood days,” she replies, not riled at all by Gilbert’s arrogance. She was pleased to find that he still is as loud as he was back then. “I was, when I read it. I always thought as a kid it would be better if you were a girl. That way I could have someone to rescue from the dragons we used to fight. But when I realized my own sex, I knew that I wouldn’t have waited for someone to save me, and you likely wouldn't either.”
For her, the reveal that the world would consider her a woman led to her reevaluation of gender from top to bottom, and that didn’t always line up well with what society thought. Elizaveta’s gender has become and always has been a costume, but she does not expect this to be easily understood by most people. Honestly though, Gilbert was handling this rather well.
Despite that, he is doomed to look vaguely red for the entirety of the conversation, and he narrows his eyes. “Serves you right for thinking weird things about me. Am I still supposed to call you István?”
“You can. I’ll respond to it,” she tells him back. “But I took a woman’s name as well. You can call me Elizaveta. Apparently my father was really set on having a boy to carry on the family business, but instead he got me.” She does shrug and she says, “I have been a good son many years- doing my father’s name as a surgeon proud. Now I’m a good daughter doing the same. I have found work as a doctor here.”
“Ahh, that makes sense,” Gilbert says, but he crosses his arms. There’s a calculating look in his expression now, as if she is a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. “Women can practice medicine easily in Budapest?”
Elizaveta grins, and she knows she looks proud of herself- she can’t help that. “Oh not at all. I’ve been living a double life for years. Doctor István sometimes and his esteemed sister Lady Elizaveta other times. I have been found out. Women here practice medicine more easily.”
Gilbert lets out a loud laugh at her words, and he looks really impressed. “You’ve been dressing up and carrying on like that for what, years? And no one caught on? That’s hilarious.” But he follows this with a more serious comment. “But practicing here? I thought you were a surgeon. Most women here are obstetricians.”
“I am a surgeon and an actress,” she says proudly. “I’ve found a nice respectable male doctor to vouch. He was a friend of my father’s, and he’s seen me at work enough to understand my skills.”
Gilbert nods, and he doesn’t take a moral stance her gender and her skills at her work. She’s not sure if that’s because he’s still to surprised by her or if for him it wasn’t an issue. He seems to mull things over for a moment, and finally he says, voice edging on petulant, “You never did know how to be normal. You came to make fun of me for my children’s book, but you’re the weirder of the two of us.”
“I always have thought you were a bit average compared to me,” she says with a grin, expecting the quick flash of anger in Gilbert’s eyes. “But still good enough that you are the only one that I’ve tracked down since I got here. I came to reconnect with you, because I also remember our time playing together fondly.” She waves the book at him again, and then she passes the book back. “I was serious about the autograph.”
“You have a wild way of reconnecting,” he says, but he does reach over to take the book. He opens it up to the first page and scrawls what must be the signature he’s come up with for Friedrich Hoffmann. Then he grins. “But at least you have good taste in company.” Then he passes the book back. “And books. I’d catch you up on my life but you’ve been stalking me. How’d you find me?”
Elizaveta takes the book and she stands up. “I got your address from your publisher,” she says, grinning back at him. “And your…” She hesitates. “Son? He answered the door and sent me this way.”
“My son?” he repeats, cheeks going red again. “Oh no no. No. That’s my little brother. That’s Ludwig.” With a quick snap, he shuts the book he was writing in. He stands up as well, and he moves around the table to her. “I’m, I mean, I don’t have any kids.” He looks a bit red faced, but he recovers valiantly. “I never married. I was much too busy with important work. Way too important to worry about something as silly as marriage.”
“Your books and your military position?” she says with a smile. Gilbert hasn’t yet offered his arm, but that seems to be his motive. “Are you going to escort me out then?”
He rolls his eyes and offers his arm with a huff as though it’s a chore. “I will if you promise not to be an idiot about it.”
Elizaveta smiles up at him. “How chivalrous.” But she takes his arm and she allows him lead her back through the library toward the doors.
Gilbert clears his throat. “And you?” he asks suddenly. “It doesn’t sound like you ever married either.”
“Oh, of course not. I was also busy with important work. Way too important to worry about something as silly as marriage” And she smirks up at him as she repeats his own words back at him. She catches the slight splash of color in his cheeks.
“Ah,” Gilbert says, expression carefully emotionless. “Well, who the hell would marry you anyway, István-Elizaveta? It makes sense that you aren’t married!”
Elizaveta just smiles. It was a good idea to look him up after all these years. She wasn’t sure it would be, but already she could tell it was going to be interesting.
Besides, he really had gotten handsome.