Pathway of Roses

by Mary Whistler

  “But we are!” she protested, as if she no longer had the least doubt about it, and now was the moment to convince him. And in that moment she knew what she wanted more than anything else from life, and the knowledge made her hand tremble as it lay in his. “Otherwise why have I always attended your concerts—whenever possible, that is—and why did I find it absolutely impossible to refuse Vanessa when she asked me to do something outrageous? I knew it was outrageous, and I knew I couldn’t get away with it, yet—”

  “Well?” he said softly, watching her.

  “Because it was you—because you were involved—I didn’t have the strength of mind to say ‘No.’ Honestly,” she begged him, turning an eager, flushed face up towards his face, “it wasn’t the clothes, or the thought of the trip to New York, or the temptation of meeting new people and temporarily leading an entirely different sort of life. It wasn’t any of those things, because I was quite content with my old way of life, and I love Hermann Brandt ... I mean,” she corrected herself, embarrassed suddenly because she was making so many revelations about herself, “I’m very fond of him. He’s been like a father to me, and I was happy working with him. It may seem strange, when there was so little glamour, but I was.”

  “I believe you,” he said, almost gently.

  “Do you?” hesitantly, drawing a little away from him. “Do you really? You didn’t when I told you before.”

  “Perhaps I was being wilfully blind before.” The taxi had come to rest before an imposing block of modern flats, and she heard him utter an impatient exclamation as he looked out and realized that they had arrived. This was the block of flats where Vanessa lived whenever she was able to stay for any length of time in Vienna, and because he had instructed the taxi-man to make for it, there was no excuse now for telling him to proceed.

  Although when he had alighted he held out his hand to Janie, and he kept her hand firmly attached to his own as they made for the lift and he swung the ornamental gates open for her to enter. There was no porter, and he worked the lift himself, and when they reached Vanessa’s floor he produced a key from his pocket.

  “This way,” he said quietly, and turned the key in the lock with an ease that indicated he had done it many times before.

  Nevertheless, Janie refused to see anything significant in his familiarity with the locks and as soon as they were inside the flat she was too diverted by the charm of it to do anything but admire it for a moment or so. Then the thought struck her that, even for a well-known singer, it was an extremely luxurious apartment, and she wondered that Vanessa should be so anxious to secure a contract when she could afford a flat like this. And she also thought swiftly of Hermann Brandt, and his little shop in the dreary corner of London that he nevertheless seemed to find quite salubrious, and she experienced a fresh kind of wonder...

  This was Vanessa’s world, and she obviously didn’t think Hermann would appreciate it. Or hadn’t she made it her business to find out whether Hermann would appreciate it?

  Veldon produced a fist from his pocket, and handed it over to Janie. He didn’t quite meet her eyes—unless it was purely and simply her imagination—as he explained that he had had a natural dislike of prying into Vanessa’s private possessions, and he was very glad that Janie was there to do the job for him.

  He stood beside the wide window of the sitting-room—which was so high up that it looked across the roofs and spires of Vienna—as she went into the bedroom to begin rifling Vanessa’s drawers, and her built-in wardrobe. But she had the feeling that he turned and looked at her—that he watched her very intently—as she disappeared and closed the door.

  It was a very simple matter finding the things Vanessa wanted. There were some articles of clothing, which she had packed into suitcases, a set of gold-backed hair brushes and a mirror, and a mink evening stole. Everything of Vanessa’s smelled delicately and subtly of her own particular perfume, but it was not a perfume that appealed to Janie, and she felt a little repelled by it by the time she had collected all the things that were needed.

  She was straightening one of the lower drawers of the handsome mahogany tallboy when she came upon a photograph lying delicately wrapped about by a silk chiffon nightdress. She removed a fold of the nightdress and saw that it was a photograph of the Baron von Eisler, a highly flattering, very masculine, photograph, and across the bottom of it his name was scrawled—a simple “Rudi,” and nothing more.

  Janie replaced the fold of the nightdress, and then closed the drawer. When she returned to the room where Veldon awaited her he turned and glanced at her, just a little curiously, she thought, and then came quickly towards her.

  “You have everything?” he asked.

  “Yes. I have packed two suitcases, but how are you going to get them to England?”

  “Oh, there is no particular hurry for the things they contain, and I shall be flying back to London in a day or so. The cases will go with me.”

  “You are ... flying back to London?”

  She spoke jerkily, almost as if she was uttering a protest.

  He smiled faintly,

  “I’m always flying somewhere ... London, Paris, New York. London in a few days’ time isn’t of any more significance than Milan will be in a couple of months from now, or Buenos Aires a couple of months further ahead still. I’m always hoping that one day there will come a time when I shall be more static, but that day may never dawn. I don’t know.”

  “But you would like it to dawn?”

  He shrugged.

  “If it does it will mean that I have acquired responsibilities, and I am by no means certain that I wish to acquire responsibilities.”

  She looked down at the hand on which Abraham Winterton’s engagement ring looked a little out of place. He followed her glance, and tugged at it suddenly.

  “You must give this back,” he ordered.

  She looked surprised.

  “You know I can’t...”

  “I tell you you must!”

  “But—why?” The words came a little breathlessly. “You have no right to tell me what I must or must not do; and in any case, we’ve discussed all this before...”

  She felt him grasp her hand firmly, almost brutally, and wrench the ring from her finger. Then he opened her handbag, dropped it carelessly into one of the inner pockets, and closed the bag.

  “There,” he said, “that is that!” She felt the blood beating under the smooth skin of her face as his eyes held hers, and went on holding them. She had never realized before that they were quite so dark—so dark and deep, mysterious and compelling. He opened his arms to her, and he spoke huskily. “Come here! I knew when Winterton detailed me for the job of keeping you entertained this afternoon that it might end this way, but I can’t help it!”

  She could hear the blood drumming in her ears now ... It was a roar like Niagara by the time she moved impulsively to obey him and his arms closed round her, and she felt his mouth devouring hers. She had often wondered what it would be like to have his cool, cynical lips close to hers ... and now she knew. And they were far from being cool!

  Whether he was capable of any cynical thoughts in those tumultuous moments she couldn’t know.

  At last he let her go, and as she looked upwards into his face she saw that he was pale. His eyes were gleaming, as she had never seen them gleam before.

  “So,” he remarked, “it is true you are not in love with Winterton. You couldn’t kiss another man like that if you were.”

  Once he had released her she found it difficult to stand absolutely steadily, for her whole body inclined towards him, and she felt bemused by the turn events had taken. But in spite of emotional upheaval she was capable of reproach. Her grey eyes reproached him as she gazed at him.

  “I haven’t made it a habit in my life to allow men to kiss me. I only allowed you...”

  He smiled in a way she couldn’t quite understand as he put a finger beneath her chin and lifted it.

  “Because I didn’t give you
much option did I? And because you wanted me to kiss you!”

  Her whole face flushed delicately.

  “That’s true,” she admitted. Although her cheeks burned painfully she refused to lower her eyes as if either abashed or ashamed. “I did.”

  “Oh, darling,” he said softly. “How deliciously candid you are ... perhaps truthful! When I first met you I wasn’t sure that you were entirely truthful, but a week has changed my views, and in any case you have truthful eyes.” He touched each of them in turn with a long and caressing forefinger. “This afternoon in the taxi I was quite touched by the utter transparency of these eyes of yours, and I decided a man would always know where he is with you ... or should!”

  He dropped her chin and moved away, pacing restlessly up and down the room.

  “To get back to Winterton and this engagement of yours. You must break it off, Janie.”

  She waited, her heart beating like a wild bird in her breast, for him to say more.

  “Tell Winterton the truth, that he’s much too old for you for one thing, and he’d look almost as silly as I would if the truth leaked out about Vanessa.” His lips curved grimly. “For I swear that at first you did succeed in taking him in, as you took quite a number of other people in ... mostly his own friends, at that party he threw for you the first night you were in New York. And if he wasn’t deceived, why did he foist you upon his friends?” She shook her head. It didn’t seem to her to matter now.

  Veldon continued pacing up and down, and she was vaguely fascinated by the alien way he spread his hands.

  “He foisted you quite deliberately upon his associates and intimates because, once he had made the discovery you were not Vanessa Brandt, he had also made the discovery that he wanted to marry you, and in spite of his position and all his money a girl of your age might not capitulate at once if proposed to out of the blue. So he threatened you with exposure for myself, and no job for Vanessa, and as I, also, had done quite a lot of threatening you gave way at once!” He stopped to smile at her understandingly, and more warmly than he had ever smiled at her. “You hadn’t much chance against the lot of us, had you, Janie? In fact, I think you’ve had rather a raw deal, and I must apologize for offering you that thousand pounds.”

  “You knew I wouldn’t take it, didn’t you?” Janie asked, gazing at him anxiously.

  “Perhaps.” Once more he returned to her, and his hands fastened upon her shoulders. “But the important thing now is that you’ve got to let Winterton know we’re no longer afraid of him. So far as I’m concerned I’ve never been afraid of him, but Vanessa would have been glad of that contract. However, she can do without it. I’ll see to it that she doesn’t lose by doing without it! And you’ll hand back that vulgarly ostentatious engagement ring, won’t you?”

  He lifted her hand, and examined it carefully.

  “A hand like that was designed for something much more delicate!” He carried it up to his face and held it there for a moment, and then her whole body trembled as he kissed it lingeringly. “Janie,” he commanded. “Look at me!”

  She looked at him, her heart still fluttering like a wild and hopeful bird under the “innocent” blue, as he had called it, of her dress.

  “Once you’re free of Winterton I’ll take you back to London and find you a job that will be much more suited to you than the job you had with Vanessa’s father. You may be attached to him, but a girl like you can’t spend the whole of her life in a backwater.”

  “What—sort of a job have you in mind?” she asked haltingly, as he frowned at the thought of her spending her life in a backwater.

  He touched her cheek gently.

  “I’m not quite sure yet. But there must be lots of jobs, and I promise I’ll find something for you.” His smile was intended to be encouraging, but it also seemed to her to be very strongly tinged with regret. And when he saw the blank look that invaded her eyes he looked away. “Perhaps Vanessa can help.”

  CHAPTER XIII

  They both heard the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock of the front door, and when they looked round Rudi von Eisler was standing in the doorway of the sitting-room and regarding them.

  “So Vanessa is still the centre of interest,” he remarked, looking at his half-brother with a kind of semi-bleak smile on his face. “When Miss Dallas emerged as Miss Dallas I thought you would all do your best to forget her, at least temporarily.”

  “What do you mean?” Veldon demanded, and his voice was intensely curt.

  The good-looking Baron shrugged.

  “Oh, nothing. But out of sight is often out of mind, and Vanessa is hardly in a position to command the centre of the stage at the present time.” As if he resented the inference in this Veldon said just as curtly:

  “I telephoned London this morning, and I telephoned London every day while I was in New York. Vanessa can’t reasonably have cause for complaint.”

  “Oh, and I’m perfectly certain she is not complaining,” Rudi remarked drawlingly, moving forward leisurely into the centre of the room. “Quite the contrary, in fact. I understand that, in addition to telephoning daily, you send flowers daily—or a local florist has instructions to deliver a daily floral tribute—and you keep in constant touch with her doctors. That, I consider, is being particularly attentive!”

  There was a note in his voice that caused Janie to glance at him curiously, and then to wonder whether she could be wrong. For although she suspected that there was very little affection between the brothers, it seemed difficult to believe that there could be actual enmity. Not when Rudi owed so much to the famous member of his family, and Veldon could hardly be indebted to Rudi for anything.

  “I telephoned London myself this morning,” Rudi admitted. “And I’m delighted to hear that our nightingale is recovering from her operation, although slowly. She wants a few things.”

  “Yes, I know,” Veldon said tersely. “We have already collected them.”

  Rudi glanced at the suitcases.

  “So that’s why you’re here? I wondered. At first I wondered how you got hold of the key, since I have Vanessa’s, but I suppose it’s your own?”

  Veldon’s bleak dark glance lingered on his brother, and then he turned away.

  “Well, since we’ve collected all that we came for, we’ll go, shall we?” he said to Janie.

  Rudi smiled at Janie.

  “I’m almost certain I know what you’re thinking,” he remarked. “You consider Vanessa is very prodigal with her keys, and you could be right, of course. But I can assure you mine really does belong to me, for Vanessa is by way of being a subtenant of mine. But what Max’s excuse is for practically living on her doorstep whenever she’s in Vienna, and having the means of entry at all times when she’s not, you and I will have to guess!”

  His smile was so unpleasant, and so horribly full of meaning, that Janie felt her colour rise sharply, as if he had smacked her across the face. She realized, too, that there was a strange vindictiveness in his tone, as if something had happened that had affected him personally and aroused the strongest instincts of resentment, and she wondered how long he had been in the hall of the flat before he made his presence known by inserting his key in the lock rather noisily, and then opening the sitting-room door.

  If he had come in very quietly, and been there for several minutes, he had no doubt heard something of their conversation before he opened the sitting-room door, and gathered what was taking place on the other side of the door.

  But Janie didn’t flatter herself that he was sufficiently interested in her to be, even temporarily, jealous of Max—in fact, since the announcement of her engagement, she had sensed that he was rather sharply annoyed with her. So the explanation for the note of venom in his voice didn’t lie with her.

  But the result of his venom made her move rather abruptly towards the door, and as Max held it open for her she passed him by with her face somewhat noticeably averted.

  Behind her she heard the elder of the t
wo half-brothers say coldly, as if it was an order:

  “I’m taking these cases back with me to my own flat. When I return to London, in a few days’ time, I shall deliver them to Vanessa at the nursing home.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be very grateful,” Rudi replied insolently. “Delighted to see you, too!”

  The cases were rather heavy, so the lift-man was sent to collect them and place them in the taxi. Janie still kept her face averted when Max climbed into the taxi beside her, and she heard him say quietly:

  “I’m sorry Rudi was a bit crude. You mustn’t let any of his remarks upset you.”

  “I won’t,” Janie replied, with a crispness that made him smile very faintly as he glanced at her.

  He reached for one of her hands, where it was lying in her lap, and patted it. “To get back to what I was saying before we were interrupted ... I mean to do a lot for you, Janie, and I hope you’ll forgive me for being so beastly to you in the early days of our acquaintance. I wasn’t to know then that one day—very soon!—I was going to feel regretful that my life is as it is.”

  “I don’t think I quite understand what you mean,” Janie told him.

  He gave her hand another pat.

  “My life as a musician, a conductor ... it doesn’t permit ties. Only of a certain kind, and those wouldn’t appeal to you.”

  “But they do appeal to Vanessa,” Janie heard herself say stiffly.

  This time, when he glanced at her, there was a faint gleam of impatience in his eyes, but as she was staring straight ahead she didn’t see it.

  “I have asked you not to be upset by anything Rudi said ... or implied. Vanessa and I are the greatest of friends, and there has always been a very warm bond between us. A very warm bond,” he repeated, as if he was dwelling rather pleasurably on the warmth of that particular bond. “She is a tremendous artist, and I have an unbounded admiration for her, as well as a great affection... a real affection,” he added quietly, studying her face a little broodingly. “Vanessa and I are very close, and I wouldn’t want anything to interfere with that closeness.”