“It was very kind of the Baron to bother his head about me,” Valentine said stiffly, feeling she had had more than enough for one day, and this was a sort of anti-climax. “But I’m sorry he spoiled your day.”
Lou glared at her, and then softened and grew less hostile. But she continued to look extremely puzzled.
“But why you? Why did he have to bother about you?” She shrugged, as if the vagaries of men were beyond her. “I expect the truth of it was he was peeved because we were in a party, and he wanted to break it up. Well, he certainly succeeded!” And she frowned as she crushed out her cigarette. “I’ve been back an hour or more!”
“I’m sorry,” Valentine said, and moved wearily towards the door of her own room. Downstairs Alex was recovering himself and his spirits in the bar. “Would you like me to start running your bath for you? Or is it too early?”
“No, it’s not too early. I’ll feel more like venting my displeasure on Alex when I’ve had a bath and freshened up.” But Valentine was certain that what she really meant was that there would be less danger of her saying a little too much when she was in a slightly better frame of mind, smelling of her usual perfume, and without a hair out of place. “By the way, your Haversham friend is back. He asked me about you, and I said he’d probably be seeing you this evening. I also invited him to accompany us to the schloss to-morrow.”
“Then we’re going to-morrow?”
“Yes.” Lou regarded her inscrutably. “Didn’t Alex tell you it was all arranged?”
“No. No, he didn’t say anything.”
“Then what did you two talk about?” with a return of her irritation, but only a very mildly suspicious gleam in her eyes. For she would not have been prepared to believe that Valentine, a well-brought-up young woman with principles, would have made the slightest attempt to play up to the Baron while the opportunity was hers. “You were together for quite an age!”
“I was alone all the morning, and had my lunch by myself. I was on the point of returning home when the Baron found me.”
There was so much truth in that that Valentine didn’t feel particularly guilty. Just before she fell asleep the thought had crossed her mind that she would have to be thinking of going back fairly soon.
Lou shrugged resignedly.
“Oh, well ... The wretched day’s finished now! But next time I give you some time off we’ll plan in advance what you’re going to do with it! And you’ll oblige me by sticking to the plan!”
That evening Valentine saw Haversham for a few minutes while she was posting some letters in the inner entrance hall. His eyes grew bright with pleasure as soon as he caught sight of her, and he came across to her and detained her determinedly before she could slip away back to the lift as she had planned.
“Can I see you to-night?” he asked eagerly. “I’ve something to tell you that I think you’ll find interesting.”
“Oh!” Valentine stared at him. “No, I’m afraid I won’t be free to-night.”
“But Miss Morgan said you could be free.” He was plainly disappointed because she was not noticeably more pleased to see him after his few days away from the hotel. “Please, Valentine.” His voice was soft and coaxing. “I feel as if I’ve been away from you for about ten years, and I honestly think you’ll be interested to hear what I’ve got to tell you. In a way it’s important—”
Valentine couldn’t think of anything that could be important to her just then—a strange feeling of flatness had supervened after her experience in the little pine wood, and by comparison with what had happened there nothing was really important. But she was anxious not to hurt Haversham by her apparent indifference, and she explained that, having had the whole day off, she had a lot to do. In the morning they would all be setting off for the Baron von Felden’s schloss, and there would be more opportunities to talk.
“Yes, I was surprised that the Baron should invite me,” Haversham admitted; “but naturally I was delighted when I knew what it would mean. That I would see a great deal more of you.” And his hand went out and touched hers almost pleadingly. “Of course you would be given to-day off, when I was not here! If I’d been here ... Well, I’d have seen to it that you didn’t have a dull moment!” And he smiled at her.
Von Felden saw the smile when he emerged from the lift, looking very beautifully shaved and groomed and almost sinisterly handsome in his regulation black evening clothes.
He paused for a moment beside them on his way to the dining-room. His eyes were fathomless as pools, and quite expressionless, but his lips curved in rather an unpleasant way.
“So you’re coming with us to-morrow, Haversham?” he said. “That will be nice for Miss Brown!” And for an instant his eyes met Valentine’s.
She felt as if she recoiled from him instinctively. There was such a cold challenge in that fleeting look, such an unfeeling, inhuman hint of mockery, and it made something inside her flinch and curl up. For a moment she could have cried out protestingly.
“It will be nice for me,” Haversham said, also looking at Valentine. And once again he smiled at her with the warmth that was always a part of his smile ... for her. “I only hope Miss Brown agrees it will be nice for us both!”
When they set off the following morning it was with the intention of remaining away for at least a couple of days and nights. The Baron had assured Lou that his house was in a sufficiently habitable condition for them to be his guests for that length of time, but as to the standard of comfort he could offer them ... Well, it would not be up to that of the Hotel Grand Imperial, but, such as it was, she had insisted on being given an opportunity to sample it.
“So it’s on your own head, my dear,” he said grimly before they started off in a couple of horse-drawn sleighs. He was looking unusually grim, Valentine thought, as his manservant stacked the luggage in one of the sleighs. They seemed ridiculously tiny affairs by comparison with the horses with their sweeping tails and unusual harness, and the high box seats on which the coachmen sat. There were quantities of rugs beneath which the passengers made themselves comfortable, and as the horses started off there was a pleasant jingling of bells.
But before they started off Lou remembered a special make-up box which she had left behind, and Valentine was sent rushing back into the hotel for it. Lou, who was in a very good humour, said she would forgive Valentine for being so careless as to leave it behind when she got back with the small cream case with its gold initials and clasp in her hand, but the Baron’s brow grew unexpectedly dark, and he snapped impatiently:
“Do you always have to be waited on hand and foot, Lou? Can’t you ever remember anything yourself?”
Lou was so surprised that her mouth fell open a little, and her large blue eyes looked hurt and astonished. Then she recovered herself quickly and laughed softly.
“Darling, isn’t that rather like the pot calling the kettle black? Do you ever do anything for yourself?” As he did not answer—merely looked a trifle more grim—she patted his arm and spoke soothingly. “But I know what it is! You’re anxious in case I won’t like your old schloss, and the thought of acting host is getting you down! But don’t worry, poppet ... I’ve made up my mind I’m going to like it however dreadful it is! I’m going to thoroughly enjoy the next two days and nights!”
The Baron tightened his lips, and issued an order to his servant, who passed it on to the leading coachman.
“We’ll be off now,” he said, “if you’re quite sure you haven’t forgotten anything else?” His eyes dwelt coldly on Lou. “You must forgive me, but I dislike to see horses kept standing.”
“Of course, darling,” she cooed back understandingly, as she snuggled down under the rugs. “But they’re not your horses, so why worry?”
The Baron glanced back at Valentine, sitting beside Haversham in the rear sleigh.
“All right?” he asked curtly.
She didn’t answer, but the Englishman spoke for her.
“We’re perfectly all right,” he sa
id, with somewhat unnecessary emphasis.
It was a sparkling morning—an indescribably beautiful mountain morning—and Valentine knew she should have enjoyed every moment of that drive. It was not a lengthy drive—not long enough for any of them to become chilled, that is—and the scenery through which they passed was a wonderland of white and gold loveliness. And always there were the dark shapes of the pines and the forests of larch and juniper into which they constantly tunnelled, against the bewildering purity of the snow, and the guardian range of mountains across the valley like an impressive fortification between them and a world that was less like a living fairytale. Or the background for one.
As they dipped down into hollows where the snow was deep enough to smother them if one of their horses missed its footing and they were decanted out of the sleigh, and then climbed to a ridge from which the view was spectacular, Valentine caught her breath. She remembered how she had attempted to imagine a day-to-day existence amid such unbelievable beauty as this, such naked loneliness, but now she could only think how exciting it would be if life were always like this. An exhilarating sleigh ride, with the man she loved—and she knew that she loved him more than she had ever imagined herself capable of loving any man—always just ahead of her, so that she could watch the turn of his head and the arrogant perfection of his profile, the squareness of his jaw (and in spite of all his failings it was an excellent square jaw) and the determined set of his shoulders as he sat with Lou beside him.
And then she thought, Always, now, there will be you beside him! And the enjoyment of the drive evaporated as if all the snow had melted, or the sun had abruptly withdrawn itself, and one of those grey depressing mists that she had experienced before swept down the mountainside.
And Giles Haversham found her a very quiet travelling companion for the rest of the journey, but he talked to her of his recent trip to Vienna, and how much she would enjoy it if she ever had a chance to see it for herself, and she tried not to start thinking about Alex’s flat, which he had mentioned to her, and wondering how much he enjoyed life in Vienna.
According to Haversham it was the gayest city in Europe, and the most full of music. The Viennese couldn’t live without music, and although Alex was not Viennese he loved the gay life.
Perhaps that was why he preferred to marry an heiress, although he was in love with another woman. Or said he was! ...
Valentine turned swiftly to Haversham, and tried to concentrate on what he was saying, telling herself that she must never, never listen to anything the Baron said! That way lay disaster—for her, at least—and if she had any sense she would have thought up an excuse for leaving Lou, and be on her way back to England now instead of on a visit to his mountain schloss.
Bringing herself into closer daily contact with him. For at the hotel there were numbers of guests to keep them apart, and she could avoid him if necessary from dawn to dusk. But now she was to be his guest...
She wondered whether Lou would insist on her taking her meals in her own room, instead of with the others. She rather thought Haversham would have something to say to that if she did.
The schloss was arrived at so suddenly that she was amazed. One moment they were dipping into a pine wood, and the merry jingle of the horses’ harness was uncannily loud in the stillness, and then they had emerged and were clattering across an iron-hard bridge beneath which was a frozen torrent. Valentine had a swift, and rather startling, impression of the depths that lay below the bridge, and then a grey wall reared up in front of them and she saw an arched entrance with what looked like a coat of arms above it.
Lou uttered an impressed squeak of delight in the leading sleigh, and Valentine’s pulses bounded with an extraordinary excitement as the two vehicles drew up in a cobbled courtyard. Someone had swept the snow in the courtyard to each side of a cleared path, and the brilliant morning sunshine was melting a lot of it as they stepped out and looked upwards at some tremendously thick walls. There were windows, deep set in the walls, that seemed to be far away out of reach, and one enormous window that was like the window of a banqueting hall. There was also a stout front door, approached by a flight of steps, and at the head of them a grizzled old man thickly muffled against the weather was waiting to receive them.
He ran down the steps eagerly as the Baron stepped out on to the cleared cobbles. He seemed delighted to see him and Valentine, who understood German perfectly, recognised that he was being particularly effusive in his welcome.
“It is good that you have arrived at last, Excellency, and to stay! We received your message, and everything is ready! Hans has brought in enough wood to roast an ox, and the beds are aired. Helga has seen to that!”
“And I am being killed by the draught through this open door,” said a tiny figure which appeared and occupied the spot at the head of the flight of steps where the old servant had awaited his master. “It is a poisonous draught,” she complained, “and I shall be grateful when you have all come inside and we can close the door!”
Alex looked upwards, and his face became transformed.
“Grossmutter!” he exclaimed, and fairly leapt up the steps and embraced the diminutive figure looking down at him. “You wicked old woman,” he accused her, when she had ordered him peremptorily to set her down and stop breaking her ribs—for he had swung her clean off her feet when he took her into his tumultuous hug—“how dare you come to Felden when I am not here? And at this time of year! Haven’t I told you—?”
“Oh, yes, you have told me many lies about the closing of the passes, and so on,” she returned, smoothing the front of her striking purple velvet dress, upon which lay heavy ropes of pearls and a necklace of brilliants as well, “but this time I did not even bother to listen to you. I said to Germaine that we would pay a visit to Felden, and at Felden we arrived. Now you come, and are rude to me as usual.”
“But, Grossmutter...” He sounded suddenly almost helpless. “But why did you not let me make arrangements for you at the hotel? They could have had you at the Imperial...”
“I do not doubt it,” his grandmother returned with much tartness. “But I, unlike you, am not prepared to waste good money on hotel bills, and also I have with me the dogs.”
The dogs came streaming out, three dachshunds who had been held back by a young woman in the background, but at mention of their kind they slipped their leads and tore down with much barking into the courtyard. Lou was so surprised that she nearly missed her footing and fell, but Valentine stooped and caught one of them. She carried it back up the steps to its owner.
“And who is this?” the old lady asked. “Hair as red as my own once was, and not a bit afraid of Grizel, although she bites when she feels like it.” She took Grizel out of Valentine’s arms. “What’s your name, m’dear?”
Valentine answered, smiling,
“Valentine Brown.”
“English?” the old lady asked. “No need to attempt to contradict me, because you wouldn’t have a complexion like that if you weren’t English.” And then she looked towards Lou. “And this young woman?”
The Baron spoke for her.
“Miss Lou Morgan ... From Texas.”
“And Texas is somewhere in America?”
Her grandson inclined his head very slightly, the faintest of smiles hovering at the corners of his mouth. “It is famous for its oil wells, Grossmutter.”
“Ah, I see.” The immensely shrewd old eyes stared hard at Lou. “I think I have already heard of you, Miss Morgan. Willi Hochenberg writes very chatty letters ... And, by the way, since he hasn’t accompanied you he will be here later in the day. I sent him a special message which he won’t dare ignore.”
She turned, shivering, and darted into the great hall, her absurd platform shoes teetering dangerously on the stone flags, the dubious-looking fur coat she wore over her velvet dress clutched tightly round her. The others followed somewhat more hesitantly, and instantly the dogs set up a violent clamour. The young woman who was endeavouring to h
old on to their leads flushed and looked embarrassed and, as she was very creamy skinned and golden, the confusion suited her.
“This is my great-niece, Germaine,” the elderly martinet introduced her. “She acts also as my companion. Now, Alex,” turning and confronting him with a rather ridiculous air of dignity, “present me formally to these people you have brought here. If I am to act hostess it is important that there shall be no confusion as to who I am.”
“My grandmother, the Countess of Hultz-Reisen,” the Baron responded with suitable ceremony, but glancing at him quickly as he did so Valentine was sure there was a wry gleam in his eyes, in spite of the sweetness of his smile directed at his grandmother. Then he reintroduced them formally, and Germaine, his cousin, turned fiery red as if she were quite unaccustomed to meeting good-looking Englishmen with charming manners when Giles Haversham was presented to her.
“Well, now we all know each other,” the Countess said, with some satisfaction, “and it only remains for me to make clear that I did marry an American gentleman myself, but I never took his name, and I never crossed the sea to look at his country. So you can forget all about that little episode!”
Lou glanced at Valentine with upraised brows as much as to say, “What an extraordinary old woman!” ... But Valentine merely thought her remarkable.
The Countess intercepted the look.
“Oh, I’m eccentric, I realise,” she observed imperturbably. “But I like being eccentric. It makes life so much more interesting when you refuse to behave like everyone else, and have your own rules and so forth.” She peered short-sightedly up at Giles Haversham. “Do you play chess, young man?”
He smiled, and bowed.
“I’m quite a good chess player.”
“That’s splendid,” she said. “We’ll have a game tonight. You know, life itself is like a game of chess ... You can cheat, and it won’t get you anywhere if you’re up against an experienced player! On the other hand, if you delay too long over making a move you can ruin the whole of a lifetime!”
Love in High Places Page 8
