by Jane Arbor
Juliet drew herself up. 'And I would not mention his name. If your attitude to him was the same as his towards you, it would have got me no further. And what was more, if you couldn't accept that I had business with you that was personal '
'—You were damned if you were going on your knees to plead with me, or alternatively, sit up and beg? Was that it?'
'More or less.'
He tilted his head and regarded her judicially. 'And isn't there a word for that attitude? Known, isn't it, as cutting off your nose to spite your face?'
She flushed. 'Yes. Perhaps.'
'And because of it I never did see Gerhard before he died.'
'Not just because of that. You knew where he was, what he was doing!' she accused.
'And he knew where I was, and what I was doing. He had only to write or pick up the phone, if he had wanted to make contact.'
'I've told you, he didn't want to. And the only gesture you ever made towards him was to attend his funeral!'
'Ah, you heard about that? But you weren't present yourself, were you?'
'No,' she snapped. 'I'd gone back to England over a year earlier.'
'Taking with you any guilt you may have had in relation to Gerhard, or effectually sloughing it off— that is, if you had ever had any?'
Her voice dangerously quiet, 'And what do you mean by that, Herr Adler?'
Equally quietly, 'I think you know, Fraulein—er— Miss Juliet Harmon, whose name and connection with Gerhard I first learned when I came to his funeral.'
'Of which I didn't hear until after it was over. And learned from whom, please?'
He shrugged. 'From the locals. No one in particular. I stayed around for a few days, and their sympathy for Gerhard needed to tell the whole story.'
'And you learned—what?'
'The truth as they saw it, and I think they saw it straight. That you came here as Gerhard's student in wood-carving; that he fell deeply in love with you; asked you to marry him, being frank-about the spinal illness which would give him, at most, only a year or two more to live, and you refused, though- he asked you, begged you over and over again. You admitted there was no other man for you, that you had no other romantic ties at all, and as your village saw it, you had little to lose in a compassion for Gerhard which could only ask a very short term of you—a term of companionship and care of him which, in these good folks' opinion, shouldn't have cost you too much.'
'But companionship wasn't what Gerhard was asking of me. He wanted—and deserved—a wife, and that I couldn't make him. I didn't love him,' Juliet said.
'Though, loving you enough, don't you think he might have settled for less?' Karl Adler countered.
Her chin went up. 'He declared he could, but I daren't take him at his word for his own sake.'
She paused, doubting if she could convey to this self-appointed judge her deepest conviction that the only reason for marriage should be the shouted Yes of love on both sides—and decided against trying. She went on, 'That is, I dared not humiliate him by marrying him for pity. However short the marriage was, it wouldn't have been enough. I was convinced of that.'
'And so I failed him until it was too late. But you failed him living, knowing what you could do for him, and refusing. Which of us, would you say, should have the worse conscience then?'
'Have I blamed you, as you've seen fit to blame me?' she retorted. 'And, short of marrying him, I did all I could. I tried to see you about him, with no result. I offered, when my course was finished, to stay on for a while as his friend '
Karl Adler looked about him. 'Here? You lived with him here?'
Her grasp on the arms of her chair tightened convulsively, showing her knuckles white. 'Here? With him? I was lodging with some people named Konstat nearby!'
'And "as his friend"? Could one read into that perhaps the "good friend" of journalistic jargon or the "little friend" as our neighbours the French put it? You wouldn't let him do you the honour of marrying you, but you were willing to compromise, as long as you weren't tied down? For as long as it suited you, you would have stayed as his '
But at that Juliet's pent anger propelled her forward, out of her chair and in a longer stride than she thought she could make, she faced him, close above him, her furious eyes levelling with his, her right hand raised ... ready.
He caught at her wrist in time, twisted it and flung her hand from him. 'Guttersnipe tactics, hm? Hitting out when you've either no case or haven't control enough to plead it?' he taunted. 'You know, I'd advise you to go back to your chair and count ten before you speak again.'
'Not—not until you've apologised for—'
'For drawing the rather obvious inference from your own words?' He shook his head. 'No call for apology there. I could claim that you tempted me to it, and we'd need an appeal court to judge the issue between us. So I suggest we forget it. I've belatedly made the acquaintance of Miss Juliet Harmon and she, much against her will, has met me. That we did it this morning in a slightly less hostile vein is neither here nor there,' and as I came primarily to talk business with Miss Harmon, would she allow me to get on with it now?'
Forget it! Shrugging off one of the worst insults a man could throw at a woman, and suggesting she should 'forget it'! It showed he wasn't convinced that she hadn't been prepared to be Gerhard's mistress, and if he had been someone whose faith and good opinion she valued deeply, she couldn't have felt more sickened. Yet why should she care what this man thought of her? What was he, after all? A shape, a name; self-introduced this morning and having the utter gall to play judge and jury tonight. What she had to forget—and could—was that for even an instant's thought she had debated his male attraction ...
With all the dignity she could muster she returned to her seat. 'Well?' she said. 'Your business? What is it?'
'This,' he said. 'I take it that Baronin von Boden phoned you after I had left the Schloss? She said she was going to.'
'She did.'
'And told you of the circumstances which brought me here?'
'About your takeover of the Hartung Group, yes. No details of why you came today.'
'Yes, well, that was a personal whim.' He paused. 'Not entirely unconnected, I admit, with an interest in how Gerhard's School had fared since his death.'
'Really? Well, it has "fared" so far, as you see. You expected to find me here, so you'll have heard from the Baronin that, at her request, I came back to manage its affairs some months ago, taking over your half- brother's tenancy of the building and occupying his quarters.' (If Magda von Boden hadn't told him that her decision to give up the hotel was the threat which must also close the School, then let him find out that for himself!) At this stage Juliet herself wasn't going to admit to the dependence on the hotel guests of Gerhard's skilled handcraftsmen for the sale of their winter's work; nor to the hotel's summer employment of them as waiters and kitchenmen and porters. It was a time-honoured cycle of Rutgen's livelihood that was about to be broken through no one's fault, least of all the Baronin's or Juliet's own. But no doubt Mr Big Business opposite could convince himself that she had failed Gerhard in this direction too. She would volunteer nothing.
He was saying now, 'Ah, your tenancy. That's what concerns me. How long has it now to run?'
'About two more years.'
'Only two? So no problem. You will have very little to lose.'
Juliet pondered this, frowning. 'To lose? By what?'
'By Adler Classics' compensating you and your neighbours for your loss of tenancy when we build a sawmill on this stretch of the lake-shore.'
'A—a sawmill?' Juliet's echo was shrill. 'On the Silbersee? You can't be serious? It would be a desecration!'
'But a very necessary adjunct to a purchase of standing timber. Or do you suggest we put ropes round the lumber and lug it by oxenpower to our next nearest sawmill plant, when we've an ideal site for one here?'
'But you'd be destroying the homes of a dozen families, not to mention this place which had all Gerhard Mind
en's devotion and all his work!'
'And providing work and a future for a multiplication of a dozen families. Also housing elsewhere on the estate, as we should have to build accommodation for the lumbermen we'd be importing, and a few more cottages for you displaced persons shouldn't tax us too much.'
'A select line in concrete boxes, set end to end?' Juliet scorned. His use of 'you' had told her that he knew nothing of her plan to leave, and the fragments of a ruse began to merge in her mind.
He shook his head. 'I doubt if we'll use either brick or concrete when wood is our trade, and we'll have so much of it at our disposal. No, I hereby pledge that your new houses shall be of wood, and if your alleged concern for the tradition of Gerhard's work is revolted at running his School anywhere than here, I daresay your wood-carvers and your pupils could turn their skilled hands to dealing with wood on a wider scale. With us.'
'As lumbermen or builders? They wouldn't thank you, believe me! They choose wood and mould it and fashion it by hand. They don't take a hatchet to it and chop it up into two-by-fours. And they are able to sell what they make because, believe it or not, there are still people who value beautiful, hand-made things to live with!'
'Don't we all, when we can afford them? Though most of us don't therefore choose to sit on the floor rather than use modern chairs and tables for comfort and convenience. But tell me, Miss Harmon, who, in heaven's name, taught you to regard some piece of furniture that's been turned by machine as an intrinsically nasty thing?'
'I never said that it was!' she retorted to the deceptive mildness of the question. 'I only pointed out that my craftsmen—Gerhard's—couldn't and wouldn't switch jobs at your say-so, just like that.'
She was awarded Karl Adler's tolerant nod. 'That's better,' he murmured. 'I had the impression you meant to be beastly to the necessity of two-by-fours. And if you insist that only small is beautiful, we shall really have to educate you by taking you round one of our plants and demonstrating that a lot of Adler Classics are likely to become the treasured antiques of a hundred or so years hence. We happen, you see,' he added in sure mimicry of her own tone and words, 'to "fashion" our pieces with quality in mind.'
To which she longed to murmur back an ironic, 'Thank you. I'm sure I should be edified. Though too bad, isn't it, that I shan't be here?' But such triumph was out, now that, in the last few caustic minutes, her under-mind had pieced together its resolve. So she made no reply, and he rose to leave with a 'Well, as long as you understand the position ' Then she asked,
'Were you thinking of seeing the other affected tenants before you go back to Munich as, this morning, you said you meant to?'
One corner of his mouth lifted, suggesting the ghost of a smile.
'Ah, this morning was a world away,' he said. 'And my plans were fluid. I may see one or two of these others on my way back to the Schloss, but as I am staying there for a few days, I can afford to take my time.'
Surprised, Juliet said sharply, 'I didn't know the Baronin was taking any more guests.'
'No. A pity. But she has made a gracious exception for me.'
'And supposing'—Juliet had her rapier ready- 'supposing they, or even some of them, won't agree to abandon their tenancies?'
His shrug made light of the suggestion. 'I think there's no fear of that. We shan't stint on our compensation. It will be generous.'
'But if even only one held out, what then?'
'It might hold up the project for a while, but we'd have ways of dealing with that.'
She went with him to the door and opened it. Outside the twilight had deepened and a new moon was cradled in the sky above the lake. She held out her hand and he took it.
'Then perhaps you had better begin to look into those ways,' she said. 'Because I, for one, am not abandoning my tenancy for any amount of compensation you like to offer. I have the right to hold it for nearly two years, and I'm doing just that!'
He looked down at her, his grasp on her hand tightening until she could have cried out at the pressure on its bones. No parting handshake that, but a threat.
He said, almost musing to himself, 'So—fangs and claws, as well as only half a heart! My half-brother was lucky after all—he didn't know what he missed,' and released her hand and went out.
When she had shut the door on him, Juliet ran back to the telephone. Even if he were driving straight back to the Schloss, she could gain the Baronin's ear before he got there. She dialled with a shaking finger. 'Magda?'
'Yes, Julie, here. You've seen Herr Adler? What happened?'
'Listen, Magda. I haven't much time. He may be there with you at any minute, and I hear you are putting him up. Meanwhile, I gather you hadn't told him that I was on the point of leaving, or as soon as you closed the hotel?'
There was a small silence. Then the Baronin hesitated. 'No. No, I'm sure I didn't. I didn't get so far in telling him about you. Or did I ? No, I don't think
I did. Why?'
'Well, I'm convinced you didn't, for he gave no sign of knowing it. And now you mustn't tell him. Please, Magda, must not! For now it wouldn't be true of me. I've changed my mind, and I'm staying!'
Chapter Two
If there were one trait of Magda von Boden's for which Juliet was grateful, it was her ability to let people make their own decisions. Faced by- a stand or a conviction she would listen, comment or question. But she rarely persuaded for or against. She allowed others to act by their own standards, however mistaken she might consider them herself.
It had been so when Juliet had confided her dilemma in refusing Gerhard's proposal; whether or no the Baronin thought she lacked compassion, she hadn't presumed to judge her for it. And it had been the same when Juliet had announced her lightning face- about in the matter of her staying on in defence of the School's continuance of its tenancy. She hadn't even reminded Juliet of her previous despair that without its link with the hotel, it couldn't carry on. Over the telephone she had sounded glad at Juliet's change of heart, but had been content to say, 'Well I'm sure I can allow you to know best, dear,' in several different ways in answer to Juliet's disjointed account of her reasons, still somewhat confused in her mind, though her need to stay was clear enough. It would baulk Karl holier-than-thou Adler in his tracks!
When she had rung off Juliet had gone through to the deserted workshops and looked at the familiar benches, empty now of their tools at the end of the season, the chisels and files wrapped in oiled cloth and tidied away into drawers, the planes and soldering- irons covered by hoods, the glues and the polishes returned to store.
Beyond the main workroom were a cupboard and a miniature counter where Frau Konstat and other workers' wives served morning coffee, beer and snacks on a voluntary rota. Beyond was Gerhard's office where Juliet now worked, and beyond that again was the stockroom, piled now with the winter season's products—the salad bowls and servers, the paper-knives, the primal doll and animal shapes, the trays, the chessmen, the trinket boxes, all ready for sale to a hitherto eager and wealthy clientele. And everywhere was that heady aroma of warm wood and linseed oil and fresh shavings that was as all-pervading as incense in a church; a distillation of perfume like no other Juliet knew.
Last night she had stood in the workroom wrapped in the euphoria of her decision to stand by the School whatever happened, telling herself, 'If ever it could be said that I owed Gerhard anything, I owe him this.' But by the light of a grey April morning ideals had to face realities and didn't care much for what they saw.
With no work for them at the hotel, she would have to bring her team back into the shops and find a different sales outlet for their produce, beginning with the stockpile that needed moving now. But where to look for sales? The School had never needed to employ salesmen going round with samples, and in any case, could not afford them. But now there would have to be a sales force—of one. The stark truth forced itself upon her—it was she who would have to spend part of her time bearding the fancy goods wholesalers of Munich and even further afiel
d, tramping up and down their unfriendly stairs and steeling herself against the rebuffs she was bound to get.
But she would carry on. She would sell the stuff. She would throw that man's sneer of 'small is beautiful' back in his teeth! And though he wasn't likely to want to meet her again, she almost wished he would. Perverse though she might be, she had actually enjoyed last night's encounter—especially winning. Her hand was still tender from his vice-like grip on it which had betrayed his anger. Round One. And any time he chose for Round Two—if he did—couldn't be soon enough for her. She had never been so dynamically challenged by a man in her life. By comparison with Gerhard and the wearing-down means by which he had tried to impose his will upon her, she suspected that Karl Adler's methods with an opponent would have the bright cutting edge of cold steel. He had probably made his tycoon's way in the world just so. But why was she comparing him with Gerhard at all? They weren't even related, except by their respective parents' marriage to each other. And Gerhard had wanted to marry her. Futile to draw parallels at all...
Spoiling for action, she decided to walk down to Wilhelm Konstat's chalet to sound him out on her decision to stay and to find out whether Karl Adler had called on him last night. He had not, it seemed, but Wilhelm had it on the Lake grapevine that he had called on two others of the Baronin's shore tenants and had named his terms.
