Small stores existed in the center of the village, and Clemmie visited each in turn, until she found one selling books. And sure enough, one had an Italian lexicon, exactly what she was looking for. This village was on the road south, so it was perhaps not surprising.
Pulling out her money from her reticule, she waited as the shopkeeper wrapped the book in brown paper for her. It was too large to fit in her small reticule so she would have to carry it back. Even so, she had been successful in her venture, and she felt very proud of herself.
As she left the village, she imagined how much her mother would disapprove of what she’d just done, imagining her saying that they hadn’t married her off into a nice family so she could fend for herself. But there was something very exciting about a bit of independence. There was something very exciting about a young woman like Sofia Schonberg, and Clemmie had to work out how to be a married woman, and not a cossetted and protected debutant as she had been. Her life was changing. Maybe she would come out of this honeymoon a very changed person, like a butterfly. A woman with interests and substance. No longer a girl hoping to catch the eye of a suitable man.
The walk back up the mountain took three times longer than it took walking down, and Clemmie had to stop a number of times to rest. At one point, about halfway up, she wondered if she’d made a grave miscalculation on where to practice her foray into independence. It didn’t have to be on the steepest incline she’d ever experienced.
But there was nothing for it but to keep going. Rest, walk, and repeat. It all felt like quite an achievement when she got back. Mr. Weber welcomed her.
“I walked down to the village,” she said, wanting to talk about her achievement.
“I hope you found what you sought.”
“I did,” she said brightly. With a nod, she kept walking to the library, but Oliver wasn’t there. In fact, there were very few people around. Clemmie saw none of the people she recognized, except for that American, who sat behind a newspaper in a chair.
Taking herself to their rooms, she didn’t find Oliver there either. He’d said something about checking the viability of the carriage. That was probably where he was.
Waiting a while, Clemmie felt her hunger grow. Lunch was already being served and her stomach was growling after the morning’s exercise. Her breakfast had been light to start with.
For a while longer, she waited, then determined she would go down. Oliver might be waiting for her in the dining room, so she left their rooms again and returned downstairs. The American was still reading in the chair, but she heard people in the dining room.
Assured she would find Oliver there, she walked in and scanned the room. The countess and her people were there, including Miss Marnier, who had more color to her cheeks today. But she couldn’t see Oliver anywhere, nor the Schonbergs.
If she didn’t eat, the lunch service would finish. Some kind of fish, it looked like, with a creamy sauce and potatoes. Her hunger roared and she took a seat. It didn’t take the waiter long to put down a plate in front of her. Oliver would just have to excuse her, because she was famished, so she ate, expecting him to join her any moment.
Perhaps she should have gone in search for him. There was a good chance he was so absorbed in what he was doing, that he’d forgotten the time completely.
Rising from her seat, she walked into the lobby again. “Mr. Weber,” she said as she approached the desk. “I fear my husband has lost track of time and will miss lunch entirely. I believe he is in the carriage house, possibly the stables.”
“I will send the boy to fetch him,” Mr. Weber said and waved over one of the uniformed young men, asking him in German to find Mr. Rowland in the outbuildings.
“Thank you. You are ever so kind. It does look like it’s clearing up. We intend to go up to the lookout this afternoon.” Which reminded her that perhaps she should rest her legs a little, as she was to embark on a second large walk that day. This time, it would be more leisurely with Oliver at her side. Just the two of them. It felt like they hadn’t spent much time together since they’d gotten here. “I will take some tea, I think.”
With his assurance he would organize a tea service, she took a small table at the far end of the lobby, close to the fire. It was a good place to wait as she would see when Oliver came in. But the young man returned and spoke to Mr. Weber, who came over. “It appears your husband is not in any of the outhouses.”
“Oh. I will check our rooms. Perhaps he walked past while I was in the dining room.”
“Haven’t seen him,” the American said, folding down his paper.
“Thank you, Mr. … Sorry, I don’t recall your name.”
“That’s because we weren’t introduced. Carter. Tom Carter.”
“Right, Mr. Carter. Thank you. But I think I must check. There are ways into the hotel without walking through the front door, aren’t there?”
“Yes, of course,” Mr. Weber said.
“If you see my husband, please let him know I’m looking for him.” Clemmie didn’t know if she was addressing Mr. Weber or Mr. Carter, but the statement extended to both of them.
Walking briskly to their rooms, she checked for him there, but there was no evidence of him, or that he’d been there since that morning. A maid had tidied and made the bed. That surely wasn’t Oliver. No, he must have gone out, left the hotel. Perhaps Mr. Schonberg had invited him on an outing again. If Oliver had determined he’d studied the maps sufficiently, and seen that the carriage was ready to depart tomorrow, he might have sought amusement outside of the hotel. Surely, he hadn’t gone to the lookout without her. She’d be very disappointed if he had after he’d promised to take her.
Chapter 7
FOR THE REST OF THE AFTERNOON, Clemmie stayed in their rooms. Oliver had obviously gone off somewhere without informing anyone. It wasn’t perhaps a wonder as she hadn’t been there at the time, and he wouldn’t feel the need to inform anyone else where he’d gone.
Still, he’d promised to show her the glacier from the lookout, and the day was growing short. They were leaving first thing in the morning, so it was now unlikely she would get the chance.
All in all, she wouldn’t be devastated if she didn’t get to see the glacier from the lookout. She’d seen enough of it from the breakfast room. It was more the promise broken. But then he might have good reason. Although she was having a hard time thinking what it would be. Where would he go?
It must be that he’d gone on another walk in the mountains with Mr. Schonberg. Must have gotten bored and when the opportunity had arisen, he’d taken it.
Any moment, she expected him to walk through the door, damp and smelling like nature. The clouds had moved in again, so it had to be cold and wet outside. But the moments passed, and he didn’t come.
It was careless of him not to inform her where he’d gone. Hours of worry, not knowing where he was.
Laying down on the bed, she closed her eyes. He would wake her when he came in. And she would then tell him how upset she was with him for not leaving word of his plans.
Clemmie slipped into sleep and the dreams that awaited her, where she was waiting by the carriage, waiting to leave.
The room was dark when she woke with a start. She must have slept a few hours. Checking the small timepiece, she saw it was close to five in the afternoon. The sun was setting and darker weather had moved in.
Moving to the window, she couldn’t even see the road leading down to the village. The weather had changed so dramatically out here. Hopefully, this weather wouldn’t have been a problem for Oliver and Mr. Schonberg. Her imagination showed them getting lost on the mountain, not knowing where they were, and unable to see.
He shouldn’t have gone. He wasn’t supposed to have gone, and now it was getting dark. Worry assaulted her again. What if they didn’t make it back in time, and had to spend the night on the mountain. It would be freezing. Surely they couldn’t keep wandering in the dark. That would be dangerous. Unseen cliffs and sheer drops. Even
the thought made her shudder.
Could it be that he was sitting down in the bar, waiting for her to come down after she’d rested? Quickly, she checked her reflection in the mirror and then left her rooms. It felt strangely subdued when she reached the lobby. A man and a woman were at the desk, who looked like they’d just arrived. They had a weariness about them, as one had after a long journey.
Walking to the bar, she looked inside, but didn’t see anyone she recognized. Then she tried the dining room, but Oliver wasn’t there either.
When she was back in the lobby, she waited for Mr. Weber to finish with his new guests before approaching him. “Have you seen my husband, Mr. Weber?”
“I have not seen him this afternoon.”
“Oh,” she said with disappointment. “It’s getting dark.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
“They are cutting it a bit fine.”
“I’m sure he will be back soon,” he said kindly. “Perhaps you can wait for him in the bar?”
Nodding absently, she considered it. “Yes,” she finally agreed and walked toward the bar. On closer examination, the Italian man she’d seen before sat with his book. Maybe she should go get her lexicon while she waited, but she wasn’t in the mood to read. She wanted Oliver to walk in the door, so she could chide him for not letting her know where he’d gone. As a married couple, they had to be considerate in that way. But this was new to both of them, she supposed. And Oliver wasn’t always cognizant of the details.
She ordered a sherry and sipped it slowly. It was increasingly growing dark inside, and she fought an urge to go talk to Mr. Weber again to ask what they would do if they were stranded on the mountain in the dark. The wife, Sofia, didn’t seem to be overly concerned. Clemmie hadn’t seen her down here, pacing away, ready to chide her husband for his carelessness.
After a while of unhappily sitting there, people were starting to walk past on their way to the dining room. It had grown completely dark outside, and Clemmie’s hopes that they were coming in were fading.
Mr. Schonberg was very experienced, so he would know what to do if one couldn’t return. No doubt it would be an uncomfortable night.
The staff at the hotel were lighting more lamps and preparing for evening. More people walked past, and to her shock, so did Mr. and Mrs. Schonberg. Clemmie rose from her seat and marched after them into the dining room.
“Is Oliver back too?” How could he be back and hadn’t sought her out?
They stopped and stared at her. “I am sorry, Mrs. Rowland. Of what do you speak?”
“Oliver. He went with you today.”
“You are mistaken,” Mr. Schonberg said.
Confusion pierced her mind. “But he went onto the mountain with you today.”
“No, that was yesterday. Not today.”
“Oh, did you see him?”
“I saw him at breakfast this morning. He must have gone with someone else.”
“Who?” she asked, knowing Mr. Schonberg probably didn’t have the answer.
“I don’t know, but if he’s not back by now, he’s unlikely to make it back in the dark. Visibility is very low. You saw him go up on the mountain?”
“Well, no,” Clemmie said. “I…” What proof did she have that he’d gone anywhere? None. It was an assumption she’d made. “Perhaps I am mistaken.”
“Maybe you are difficult company, no?” the Italian man said as he walked past them into the dining room. “And he has continued on his journey without you.”
Mrs. Schonberg tsked him. “Awful man. I’m sure he’s simply lost track of time.”
“If he’s on the mountain, that would be bad. He cannot walk in the dark. It would be too dangerous.”
“I don’t know if he did,” Clemmie admitted. “I just assumed he went with you.”
“Maybe he went to the village?” Mrs. Schonberg suggested. “There is a tavern.”
Of course. He must have gone in search for her. Had she taken so long it had worried him? It was a possibility. The tavern would have called him. It would be disappointing that he’d distracted himself so completely, but he was a young man, and he did have the tendency to get waylaid by interesting company. Who knows what kind of traveler he could stumble across in the village tavern, no doubt plying him with fantastic tales.
“Of course,” she said, feeling less worried. That was the most logical solution. He was in the village, and had probably imbibed a little too much to make his way home.
“Would you care to join us for supper?” Mrs. Schonberg asked.
“That is very kind.”
And she might as well, because Oliver probably wasn’t coming back that evening, unless he found someone to drive him. Hopefully, he wouldn’t attempt the road in the dark, being in a less than sober state.
Her worry was assuaged a little, not completely. She would wake in the morning, and he would be ready with his apology for how he’d let the day slip so completely.
Chapter 8
THE AIR FELT MOIST WHEN Clemmie walked down to the village the next morning. As expected, Oliver hadn’t been there when she’d woken, and there was no sign he’d been in the room. Mr. Weber hadn’t seen him, so there was nothing for her to do but go in search for him.
Yesterday, she’d been so excited walking down this road, for a venture out on her own. Now, she wasn’t quite as excited, having to go in search of her husband. Perhaps he’d gotten into trouble of some kind, or had hurt himself and was unable to walk.
At this point, she was holding her tears back, because this wasn’t amusing, being worried about a missing Oliver. They were supposed to be on their way this morning, but that didn’t look like it was about to happen.
Before leaving, she’d told Mr. Weber where she was going and why, so he could inform Oliver if he came in. When he did, and came to find her, she was going to be very cross with him.
In her worry and anger, the village seemed less distant than yesterday. The weather seemed to be clearing, which was good. There might actually be a bit of sun that day. The sun in Italy was supposed to be wonderful and frequent this time of year, Oliver had assured her. Some warming sun and gentle breezes would do her nicely right now.
Closing her fists in her gloved hands, she tried to generate more warmth in them. The moist coolness of the mountains seemed to get into her very bones, and she looked forward to sitting with some tea in front of the fire. Or better yet, setting off from here and heading south.
The village looked very similar and she searched for the tavern first, which she found in a building clad with dark wood and small windows. It was too early for many customers inside, and she certainly didn’t see Oliver sitting at one of the tables.
The barkeep was a round man with a white apron. He had a thick gray mustache, and round eyes. He regarded her as she approached. “Do you speak English?”
“Little,” he said.
“I am looking for my husband.”
A man at the bar laughed and Clemmie gave him a chiding look.
“His name is Oliver and he is English. Was he here yesterday? Brown hair and blue eyes.”
The man shook his head and shrugged, and she didn’t know if that meant no, he hadn’t see him, or that he didn’t understand. So she repeated her question in German.”
“No Englishmen yesterday,” he finally said and Clemmie was stumped.
“Oh,” she said and looked around. Oliver didn’t really speak any other languages, so it wasn’t as if he could pass himself off as another nationality. “Can you tell me, please, where is the village doctor?”
“No doctor here. There is a surgery in the next village.”
“Oh,” she repeated, trying to think where else he could be. It could be that someone had helped him to the doctor if he’d injured himself. Someone along the road could have stopped and taken him on to the surgery. “I…” she started, not knowing how to finish. “Thank you.”
Leaving the tavern, she looked around and then walked to each shop
and asked there, but no one had seen him.
She’d been sure she would find the answer in the village, but it seemed he hadn’t been here at all. The only place to check was the surgery in the next village, which was too far to walk. For now, she had to return to the hotel and didn’t look forward to the hour and a half walk up the hill.
Her mind was trying to determine what to do. Oliver was missing. It felt as if him being injured and taken to the doctor by some kind person was her last hope. The alternative was perhaps that he was injured somewhere on the mountain. It just occurred to her. Perhaps he’d gone by himself and he lay somewhere injured. A thought pressed, saying it could be worse, but she refused to entertain it.
With renewed urgency, she walked faster, but her body wasn’t used to this level of activity. Her lungs and legs burned by the time she reached the hotel. Mr. Weber stood behind his desk as he usually did.
“I fear my husband is missing. You have not seen him today?”
“No, I am afraid I’ve had no sight of him.”
“My only thought is that he’s been injured. Either still out there in the wilderness, or some kind stranger has taken him to the doctor. I understand the doctor is in the next village.”
“That is correct. I can send someone to seek him there.”
Relief washed through her. If he hadn’t offered, she would have to have the carriage extracted and prepared. Another thing she’d never done. Use of a carriage had always been organized for her, and she’d never traveled alone. “But what if he’s not there?”
“If that be the case, we will have to organize a search party. I am sure Mr. Schonberg will help too.”
“That would be very kind,” Clemmie said, depending on common politeness when her mind was in utter uproar. “I worry that he’s injured out on the mountain. Cold and suffering.”
It looked like there was something Mr. Weber wanted to say, but held himself back.
“What is it?” Clemmie asked.
The Alps Obscure Page 4
