“There is no mist,” Mr. Weber said beside her.
“There was this morning.”
“It is always misty in the mornings,” Mr. Weber said calmly. “We do have weather come in, so thick one cannot see in front of oneself, but those are clouds.”
“Clouds?” Clemmie repeated.
“We are in the mountains. High enough that we get enveloped in the clouds.”
That sounded romantic in a way, but hearing it described as so thick one couldn’t see was a little frightening.
“But that is not the day we are having today.”
“Do you think they’re safe out there?” she asked absently.
“Mr. Schonberg is a very experienced tramper,” he said, guessing her meaning. But his expression grew more serious, as if he was trying to understand what had happened to poor Miss Marnier.
Right now, Clemmie couldn’t care about anything other than Oliver’s safety, and she wouldn’t know a moment of calm until he returned.
Chapter 5
THE HOTEL HAD A SUBDUED atmosphere in the afternoon. The guests and staff must have all heard about the incident. Although Clemmie was more concerned about Oliver, who was still out there in the wilderness.
Her distress grew as the afternoon grew darker and it started to rain more heavily. Unable to relax, she paced, intermittently in her room and also in the breakfast room where she could stare out across the glacier, but it grew too hazy to see anything.
“I am sure they’re alright,” Mr. Weber said reassuringly. “Mr. Schonberg is very experienced. He won’t let anything happen to your husband.”
Clemmie smiled tightly, but it didn’t make her feel any better, not after that woman’s attack. As of yet, she didn’t know much about the woman, only that she was called Miss Marnier. None from the countess’ party had been seen all afternoon.
“And if there are robbers, as Miss Marnier believes, they will not follow where Mr. Schonberg and your husband are going,” Mr. Weber continued.
“You know where they went?”
“Mr. Schonberg gave me an understanding of the area he wished to explore.”
At no point had Clemmie seen his wife, Mrs. Schonberg, during the day. She had to be staying in her room, or perhaps she’d gone down to the village below.
“The sound of the door reached her ears and Clemmie walked toward the lobby. To her relief, she saw Mr. Schonberg and then Oliver behind him. Her relief was immediate.
“There you are,” she said to Oliver, who looked rosy-cheeked and happy. “I was worried.”
“Whatever for?”
“There was an incident. One of the young ladies was… attacked.”
“Attacked?” Oliver said, looking worried.
“She said someone, or rather several, tried to push her off a ledge. Actually, she said they were ghosts in the mist.”
“Ghosts? Sounds like she’s a bit unhinged.”
“She was very distressed.”
“I can imagine, if she thinks she’s seeing ghosts. A doctor should perhaps attend her.”
“I think one was called.”
“I could use a stiff drink,” Oliver said.
Somehow, Clemmie wasn’t able to communicate how unnerving the incident had been. It still gave her chills thinking about it.
With assured steps, Oliver walked to the bar and Clemmie followed. “Would you like something?”
“No, I’m alright just at the moment. Thank you. Some believe that Miss Marnier has misunderstood a robbery attempt.”
“Did they steal anything? A whiskey, please,” Oliver said to the bartender.
“Well, no. She had nothing with her.”
“I suspect it’s a case of this woman having a fanciful imagination. Perhaps it was simply some people walking past her and her nerves convinced her they were trying to rob her.”
“She said they spoke Latin,” Clemmie said quietly.
“The walk was wonderful,” Oliver said, changing the subject. It was clear he was dismissing the event entirely, and granted, if Clemmie hadn’t seen the woman’s distress, she would probably do so too. She tried to clear the concern from her mind and listen as Oliver described what he’d seen.
“We came across this marvelous waterfall. In places, the snow has started melting, even parts of the glacier, but the glacier won’t melt. Even in the height of summer, Mr. Schonberg said, there is a stream of melting water, but it never melts completely. The mass of ice is too substantial, even for the summer sun to thaw. It is truly amazing. I should take you up tomorrow to the lookout. It’s something you shouldn’t miss.”
That excited gleam in his eye was there again. Clemmie smiled, happy that he’d found the day rewarding.
The bartender delivered Oliver’s drink and they sat down at one of the tables.
“I think we’ll stay one more day, then we’ll continue, provided the weather is clement enough. The lakes at the base of the alps are stunning. You will enjoy them immensely, I’m sure. There are some Roman settlements that are being excavated. Mr. Coleridge told me about it.”
“That sounds marvelous,” Clemmie agreed. Visiting people’s houses, she’d seen paintings of Venice that they’d brought back. It looked curiously different and unimaginably beautiful. All those canals, and the gondolas traveling down them. It was still hard to think she was going to experience it for herself. “I thought I would get an Italian lexicon from the village if there are any booksellers.”
“Good idea. English is not terribly common in Italy. Enough amongst the hotel staff, but otherwise, it would be good to have a little Italian in order to be understood.”
“I understand Venetian glass is a wonder.” There had been a few examples she’d studied in other people’s reception rooms. Artifacts from their travels tended to be something people wanted to show. Perhaps she would purchase a few of her own pieces to bring back. It was exciting.
“I think I must change before supper. My clothes are a little damp,” Oliver said and quickly finished his drink.
Guilt washed over Clemmie as she felt she should have suggested he change sooner, instead of sitting here and distracting him. “Of course, you must.”
“Mr. Schonberg invited us to join him and his wife for supper this evening.”
“That’s nice.”
“An early supper, we agreed. A full day’s activity encourages the appetite.” He checked his watch. “We should change.”
They left the lobby and returned to their room, walking through the dark, quiet hallway until they reached the staircase to take them up to their floor. In their room, the fire had been duly lit and the room was warm.
“I’ll change quickly and go in search of Schonberg. You’ll join us when you’re ready,” Oliver said brightly. Being leisurely in his room didn’t seem to suit Oliver. It was almost as if he always wanted to do something. A trait Clemmie was trying to get used to.
When it was quiet of the room, she took a deep breath and calmed. All the anxiety of the day was slowly seeping out of her. Oliver was fine, and now all those thoughts of disaster seemed a little silly. Obviously, he was right, Miss Marnier had clearly had a nervous episode. That did happen. She’d gotten fearful, and then she’d gotten fanciful.
Taking another deep breath, she looked around the room. Oliver wanted another day here. What exactly his plans were, she didn’t know, but she was looking forward to going to the viewing platform to see the glacier fully. And then, the day after tomorrow, they would move on. Her excitement at visiting Italy was growing, and they were now really close to the border.
But it would not do sitting here dawdling. Oliver and the Schonbergs were probably waiting for her, so she quickly repined her hair in a few places. It wasn’t bad enough to require the maid’s attention.
In all honesty, she would have preferred supper without company tonight, but Oliver had already made an agreement with the Schonbergs, and it wasn’t worth the discomfort of making excuses. It was just supper, and they were pr
obably lovely people. Honeymooners like themselves. Surely they wouldn’t want to be entertained all evening.
The quiet hallway was dark as she walked down it. Somewhere, in one room, she heard shouting. Someone was unhappy. It was a man yelling. It wasn’t loud enough to make out what the man was saying, or even the language he spoke. All in all, it was distasteful. Such private business should not be conducted in a hotel where others were disturbed by it. It really shouldn’t happen at all. A fully realized person shouldn’t be yelling in any setting.
Oliver waited in the lobby, along with the Schonbergs, who looked perfectly healthy and lively. A day of tramping had certainly not exhausted either Oliver or Mr. Schonberg.
“This is my wife, Clementine,” Oliver said proudly and Clemmie smiled. She loved how Oliver was proud to be her husband.
“My wife, Sofia,” Mr. Schonberg said. “And I am Hans Schonberg.” With a quick bow of his head, he greeted her.
They walked into the dining hall. The weather had worsened outside, and none of the village could now be seen. Just a sea of darkness.
The countess was at her table with her party, even the unfortunate Miss Marnier, who looked a little pale, but otherwise looked fine. Clemmie tried not to observe them so closely, but it was hard not to after the dramatics of the day. The countess looked as fine and impressive as before, wearing a dark green velvet gown and headband with black feathers. The woman seemed to prefer dark colors, but they suited her. It would be difficult to imagine the woman wearing a light lilac or rose.
“I understand there were dramatics this afternoon,” Mrs. Schonberg said. Perhaps she’d been observing the countess’ party too. Her English was not anywhere near as bad as Mr. Coleridge had led them to think.
“One of the younger women had taken a fright,” Clemmie said, “but she appears fine now.”
“Which one?” Sofia asked, which Clemmie felt was perhaps a little direct.
“The one in the blue dress,” Clemmie complied.
“She is very pretty.”
That was something Clemmie hadn’t noticed. Had been too distracted by the woman’s distress and fainting. “Yes, she is.”
Their table was near the countess’ and Clemmie wished it had been further away, which was a silly notion. It wasn’t as if that woman’s nerves were contagious, but Clemmie wished to be away from such turmoil.
The child sat with them too, which did suggest an informality that surprised Clemmie. The countess didn’t otherwise seem a person prone to informality, but one never knew what people were like with their family. As stern and aloof as the countess seemed, she may be very warm with her grandchild. Again Clemmie wondered where they were going, and where they’d come from.
“And what are your plans?” Clemmie asked Sofia.
“We are to stay here for a few days. Then we will go to one of the spas.”
“Oh?” Clemmie said, having not been aware there were spas here.
“We adore the mountains,” the young woman continued. She was very pretty, with blond hair and clear blue eyes. By the look of her, it wasn’t sickness that had her seeking a spa. “And Hans likes to hike. I prefer the books and baths.”
“I am very much with you on that,” Clemmie said, liking listening to how Sofia spoke, the words she chose to use and the sentences. At times, it was as if she spoke German in English.
Hans and Oliver were speaking about politics—discussion which Sofia seemed perfectly happy to not participate in.
“We are on our way to Venice,” Clemmie said.
“I went as a child. It is pretty, but we do not prefer history so much. It feels very much like it is a city of the past.”
Clemmie blinked, not quite understanding what she meant.
“But Hans is much a lover of nature. I am too, but I only go on shorter walks. I am not as strong.” She looked adoringly at her husband. They were clearly in love. “What are your preferences?”
Again Clemmie wasn’t entirely sure what she meant. “Well, I… I enjoy calling on my friends.”
“Do you study? I study architecture.”
That wasn’t something Clemmie had expected. She’d never been encouraged to study. Certainly not something like architecture. “I suppose I’m very interested in languages.”
Sofia looked impressed, and Clemmie was glad she had something to say. The truth was that she liked going to the shops with her mother, and finding something adorable to buy. She liked attending balls and dances, and loved tea and gossip when people came calling. Although she had a feeling that these mundane pleasures would not impress Sofia Schonberg. “And what kind of architecture do you like?”
“You are familiar with Georg Hirst? Yes? I very much like his modernist ideas.”
Clemmie had no idea what Sofia was talking about, but her passion was undeniable. “I’m not a student of architecture, I’m afraid.”
“It is moving away from the old, embracing new lines. Light forms and natural curves. It is very exciting. Not the old, heavy stone and somber wood. It is bright and lifts the soul.”
In truth, Clemmie had never paid that much attention to buildings. Had certainly not seen the need for natural curves, whatever that meant. “That sounds very exciting,” Clemmie said.
“We are designing a house to build.”
“Oh?”
“We have found land with beautiful nature. We will build a house in the modern style.”
For a moment, Clemmie wondered if she had ever met anyone like Sofia Schonberg. She couldn’t imagine what her father would say if she’d decided one day she wanted to study architecture. Or worse, her mother.
“That is very exciting.” Was she repeating herself? Was Oliver impressed by her? Her husband had to be. Now Clemmie felt unaccomplished, but then Sofia was unlike any young woman in Clemmie’s company. Perhaps the Schonbergs were from a very different kind of society. Still, it was interesting to hear.
Chapter 6
HAIRBRUSH IN HAND, CLEMMIE sat staring out the window. From her vantage point, there was nothing to see but sky. Her discussion with Sofia Schonberg was still on her mind. Her perspective was so very different, Clemmie was having a hard time understanding it. There was something very exciting about it. To have such a passion, and for it to be encouraged by her husband.
Right then, she wished she could talk about it with Oliver, who was fast asleep. For all his energy and willingness to be out doing things, he could sleep well into the morning.
He snuffled and then turned his head. “Good morning,” he croaked.
“Morning, sleepyhead. A bright morning awaits.”
Groaning, he shoved his pillow over his head.
“You promised to take me to the outlook today,” she said. “I think midday might be best, when the mist clears. Or they might be clouds. I’m not sure I can tell the difference. I thought,” she started, “that I might walk down to the village and see if I can find an Italian lexicon. Mr. Weber says that a few of the stores have some books for sale.”
Normally, she would assume Oliver would take her down there, but she was suggesting to go on her own. Her conversation with Sofia was pushing her to try to be a little more self-sufficient. Surely if Sofia could study architecture and design their home, Clemmie could manage to buy a book on her own. The road was winding and steep down to the village, but it was something she could manage.
Oliver shifted to lean on his elbow. “If you insist. I should take some time to study whatever maps Mr. Weber has in his library, so I actually know how to reach Venice.” Getting out of bed, he quickly dressed, combed his hair and brushed his teeth. “Then when you come back, I’ll take you up to the lookout, provided the weather holds. I think we should leave early tomorrow. It will be a full day of travel.”
“Of course.” It would be good to have a lexicon to study to pass the time when the view wasn’t engaging. “The Schonbergs are very interesting, aren’t they?”
“Hans said he was going tramping again today, and I
was sorry I had to say I couldn’t join him. There is too much to do to prepare for tomorrow. I should check the carriage is fit to travel, and we’ll set off before that countess woman gets incensed enough to steal ours. Both a new wheel and suspension needs to be built for hers. I don’t know where she went to cause that much damage. Do you need money for your book?”
“No, I have some,” she replied, thinking of the money her mother had given her as reserves in case she found herself in need to purchase something.
“Alright. I expect to see you back here for lunch,” he said before walking out.
Although her marriage had come with more freedom, she hadn’t exercised it. Today she would. She would go and seek what she needed, and do so without being watched over, accompanied, or spoken for.
There was no reason to be nervous. She wasn’t going far, and the climb really shouldn’t be beyond her. Sofia Schonberg accompanied her husband on his shorter walks. Clemmie could take herself to the village and back.
Calling the maid, she dressed, today with simpler hair that she had pinned as sturdily as she could. Oliver wasn’t at breakfast, so she ate quickly before seeking him in the library, where he stood by a table, overlooking a large tome with maps.
“I’ll just go down to the village. I’ll be back as quickly as I can,” she said and gave him a kiss. With that, she walked through the lobby and out the door. It was cold and blustery outside, but the weather looked like it was holding. For a moment, she wondered if she should change her mind and stay inside where it was warm and comfortable.
No, she was going to do this and she set off. Alone.
The valley stretched out below her as she walked. It really was stunningly beautiful, although she wished it was bathed in brilliant sunshine. It took her half an hour to walk down to the village, which consisted of very different architecture than she was used to. Sofia would probably know what the style was called, but Clemmie guessed it was old, and not at all in line with the modernist style Sofia liked. To be honest, Clemmie was curious now—curious about Sofia as much as the architectural styles that drew her.
The Alps Obscure Page 3
