Magic in Vienna

by Betty Neels

  CHAPTER FOUR

  IN THE MORNING there was nothing in the doctor’s face to show whether he had remembered any of his conversation with his mother on that first day. He was, as usual engrossed in his post and his good morning was uttered with the briefest of glances. Only as he got up to go did he pause long enough to say, ‘There is a Strauss Concert next Saturday evening, I will get tickets for it.’

  ‘In the same hall in which the New Year concert is given?’ asked Cordelia.

  ‘Why, yes. You like music, Miss—Cordelia?’

  ‘Yes, I do, and so does Eileen. We shall look forward to it Doctor.’

  ‘He called you Cordelia,’ declared Eileen when they were alone. ‘Why?’

  ‘I daresay he finds it most sensible since you call me that. I think it will be delightful to go to a concert, don’t you?’

  Eileen shrugged. ‘I shall wear the dress Granny brought me. What will you wear, Cordelia?’

  Cordelia drank the last of her coffee. ‘Well, I think we’d better go to the shops and see what I can find.’ She had almost all of three week’s salary in her purse, surely there would be something she could afford. ‘No expensive boutiques, mind you, it’ll have to be a dress I can wear for quite a while without it looking too out-of-date.’

  ‘Oh, Cordelia,’ Eileen sounded exasperated. ‘You’d look smashing in one of those bright prints with a V neck line that goes all the way down and a tight skirt…’

  Cordelia said gravely: ‘I don’t think I’d feel very happy in something like that, love.’

  ‘Why not? You are nice and curvy, only you can’t see that in the dresses you wear.’

  ‘It’s nice of you to say so, but I don’t think it would be quite me. We’ll see if we can find something we both like, shall we?’

  They decided on Thursday afternoon for their shopping expedition and filled the days before with classes, German lessons with the rather fierce lady who came three times a week, and with visits to the Museum of Natural History, the Historical Museum and the Imperial Palace Chapel. After that lot, Cordelia decided silently, they both of them deserved a little light diversion.

  Of the doctor they saw very little; he joined them at meals, made polite enquiries as to their day’s activities, listened patiently to Eileen’s chatter and had so little to say to Cordelia that she wondered if he could see her. Not that it mattered, she told herself robustly; she hadn’t the slightest interest in him either, a statement which, while quite untrue, stiffened her pride.

  Thursday was fine and warm, Eileen, by no means a painstaking scholar, applied herself to her German lesson so earnestly that she was let off ten minutes early and she and Cordelia took a tram to Karntner Ring and began their round of the shops without delay. They had about two hours before lunch—not nearly long enough, declared Eileen, accustomed to stroll round the boutiques with her grandmother and try on anything she fancied. But Cordelia knew very well what she wished to buy and refused to be side tracked by her companion’s more sophisticated ideas.

  She walked briskly past the smart boutiques and began to comb the big stores. In the third one she found what she wanted; a finely pleated crêpe skirt in a pleasing shade of plum with a matching top, very simply cut with a round neck and full sleeves gathered into tight cuffs. By no means high fashion but guaranteed to pass muster for the next year or so. Besides, it seemed to her to be highly suitable for a companion or governess, and she couldn’t see herself doing anything else in the foreseeable future.

  Eileen, of course, voted the whole outfit stuffy; a jump suit in bright pink, she suggested, or a patterned garment in violent colours that looked as though someone had been slashing a pair of curtains in the hope of turning them into something wearable. Cordelia, refused to be tempted; she liked the plum two-piece, the price was right and it fitted her person exactly as it should. She bought it and solaced her companion with coffee and cream cakes before they went back to the apartment.

  She washed her hair on Friday and did her nails with the new nail varnish she had bought and since on Saturday the doctor bore his niece away after breakfast to meet the children of a married colleague, she was free to experiment with her hair. It took her an hour of painstaking pinning and brushing to decide that it would be best not to change her hair style. The doctor went out for lunch and afterwards, since it was a splendid day she took Eileen to Belvedere Palace gardens, where they roamed happily for a couple of hours. They went by tram, a form of transport Cordelia enjoyed enormously and which she considered good for Eileen, a child very much in the habit of getting into a car and being driven without the small problems of getting tickets and paying fares. As it was, she was beginning to enjoy her tram rides, buying the tickets at any tobacconist’s shop and getting them stamped. They still had to sample the Underground but as Cordelia sensibly pointed out, trams or buses were much more interesting in fine weather.

  The doctor was still not home when they got back, nor did he come in for tea. They were to dine early before the concert and they went to dress in good time—a good thing, for Eileen almost dressed in one outfit, decided that she wasn’t going to wear it after all, and spent a frenzied ten minutes making up her mind what she would wear instead. She finally decided on a blue dress and declared herself ready.

  ‘Not before you’ve picked up the clothes strewn around the room,’ declared Cordelia briskly, ‘hung them in the cupboard and shut the doors and drawers.’

  ‘Someone else can do it,’ Eileen darted a wicked look at her. ‘You can.’

  Cordelia sat down on the bed. ‘Why?’ she asked equably.

  ‘Well—you’re my governess…’

  ‘So I am, but I can stop being that whenever I want to.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Dinner’s in ten minutes, I can go downstairs and see your uncle and tell him I don’t want to look after you any longer and really you know there’s nothing much you can do about that.’

  Eileen flew across the room and caught her by the arm. ‘You won’t—Cordelia, you won’t go away? I was only teasing. I’ll pick up every single thing. Honest I will. You don’t really want to go?’

  ‘No, of course I don’t. I like being here and we get on well together but I meant what I said…’

  ‘You won’t go?’ Eileen wound thin arms round her neck. ‘I’m very fond of you, Cordelia, truly I am. I don’t ever want you to go away. When Mummy and Daddy get back I’m going to ask if you can stay.’

  Cordelia put a motherly arm round the child. ‘Well, love, we’ll have to see about that when they get here. In the meanwhile tidy this room and we’ll go down to dinner. I expect your uncle is back by now.’

  But only just, he was striding through the hall, making for his room as they paused at the top of the stairs. He stopped short when he saw them.

  ‘I’m late; give me ten minutes, will you? Cordelia, get yourself a drink and pour me one will you? Whisky, please. Eileen, that’s a very pretty dress…’

  ‘Uncle Charles, Cordelia’s got a pretty dress too.’

  He barely glanced at her. ‘So it is.’ He couldn’t have seen it; she was sure that if she asked him presently what she was wearing he would have no idea. She went into the drawing room with Eileen and poured her a lemonade and herself a glass of sherry and then she poured whisky into one of the cut glass tumblers.

  ‘He’s mean,’ declared Eileen pettishly, ‘he didn’t even look and you’re quite pretty this evening.’

  ‘Why thank you, love.’ Cordelia’s voice was as calmly serene as usual; no one, and that meant Uncle Charles, was going to know how hurt her feelings were. Perhaps governesses didn’t have feelings? But surely the modern young woman undertaking the education of the young, had feelings and made no bones about expressing them? I’m living in the wrong century she thought and tossed off the sherry rather too fast.

  The doctor was as good as his word, freshly shaven, immaculately tailored, he presented a picture of elegance, what was more, he laid himself out to be an amusing companion.
They were all in the best of spirits as they got into the car and drove to the Concert House standing back from the Schubertring. It took a very short time; Cordelia wished it could take longer, for Vienna was looking her best; the trees in full leaf, the evening sky clear and bright and the pavements thronged with people. She was as excited as Eileen as they waited at the entrance while the doctor parked the car and then accompanied them to their seats.

  The programme was almost all Strauss; Cordelia, a sentimental girl at heart, sat spellbound and stayed so during the interval when they were regaled with cold drinks. The doctor made very little attempt to talk to her but busied himself pointing out the various people he knew in the audience to his niece and answering with commendable patience, her endless questions. The concert over, Cordelia still had very little to say for herself; her head was full of music and snatches of dreamlike thoughts. They were crossing the hall when she asked, ‘Are the Vienna Woods very lovely?’

  The doctor smiled faintly. ‘Oh, yes. They quite live up to the music. Before you return to England we must all go there, it’s not far; if the weather is fine we might take a picnic.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ asked Eileen eagerly.

  ‘Good God, no—perhaps next weekend…’

  ‘Why not tomorrow?’ persisted Eileen, ‘it’s Sunday.’

  ‘And I’m spending it with friends in the country!’ There was something in his quiet voice which stopped her saying more.

  Cordelia, going to say goodnight to Eileen found her tearful. ‘I think he’s very unkind,’ the child began as soon as Cordelia got into the room.

  ‘He’s always reading or shut up in his study or at his beastly hospital—we don’t matter at all…’

  ‘Now that’s not fair.’ Cordelia sat down on the bed and kicked off her shoes, taking the pins out of her hair. ‘We’re just back from a lovely evening and here you are moping. It really won’t do, love. Your uncle’s days are filled and he has every right to enjoy his free time in whatever way he wishes. And he’s already said he’ll take us to the Vienna Woods and I don’t think he’s a man to say something and not mean it.’

  Eileen hunched a shoulder. ‘I thought I liked him…’

  ‘And you do. Come on, cheer up, I think he’s been very kind to us.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s easy to tell Thompson and Mrs Thompson to look after us, and arrange lessons for me and give us enough money so that we can sight see, but he doesn’t bother himself, does he?’

  ‘Why should he?’ Cordelia spoke bracingly, ‘You’re a bit young for him you know and I’m rather dull with no looks to speak of.’ She caught Eileen’s eye and they giggled together. It didn’t hurt so much if she laughed about it, thought Cordelia. ‘I tell you what, supposing we go to Schonbrunn tomorrow? We could have an early lunch and have tea there. We can go all the way by tram so it will be easy.’

  ‘Uncle Charles won’t mind?’

  ‘I can’t think why he should. We’ll have a guided tour and take a taxi if he doesn’t like us to go by tram!’

  She put on her shoes and bundled up her hair, thrusting the pins in haphazardly. ‘I’ll go now and see what he says, it’ll be too late if I leave it till the morning.’

  The doctor was in his study, writing and if he was vexed at being interrupted he was too well mannered to show it. He got up and offered Cordelia a chair and asked, with only the faintest trace of impatience, what he might do for her.

  ‘I thought Eileen and I might go to Schonbrunn Palace tomorrow if you’ve no objection. If we could go after an early lunch? We could have tea there and see the gardens before coming home in the early evening. Do you mind if we take the tram?’

  ‘Not in the least; you’re a sensible young woman and you have sufficient German to get around, but take a taxi if there’s any waiting about.’ He opened a drawer in his desk and took out some notes. ‘That should be enough, I think—if you spend more let me know.’

  She was still smarting from being called a sensible young woman; she didn’t dispute that; it was correct, she just didn’t like being reminded of it. She thanked him quietly and got up and wished him good night and found him at the door before her.

  ‘You do not find your duties too arduous?’

  Compared with her unending care of her stepbrothers and sisters it was childsplay. ‘Not at all thank you. Eileen is a nice child and intelligent for her age.’

  ‘But spoilt…’

  ‘Perhaps. Well, yes, she is, but that’ll sort itself out when she goes to school and her parents are home again.’

  ‘My mother indulges her and of course she is an only child.’

  And when she didn’t reply: ‘Well, enjoy yourselves tomorrow. Good night Cordelia.’

  ‘Good night, Dr Trescombe.’ She went past him up the stairs and along the corridor to her own room. For no reason at all, she felt unhappy.

  Schonbrunn wasn’t like anything else she had seen; to begin with it was vast, standing well back from the busy street at its gate. They crossed the vast courtyard, already crowded with visitors and tourists, and went into the courtyard and up the stairs where they joined a small group of people being led around by a guide. Eileen was all for going off on their own, but as Cordelia pointed out, they would get lost in the vastness of the palace, so they tagged along on the fringe of Americans and English ladies in their cardigans, trying to hear what the guide was saying and not miss any of the grandeur around them. Magnificent pictures, portraits of bygone Habsburgs, marvellous painted ceilings, inlaid tables and chairs, damask hung walls—they wandered from one room to the next, trying to take it all in. The Walnut Room, with it’s inlaid floor and red Damask, the gloomy bedroom of Franz Joseph the first and his wife, the Yellow Salon, the Hall of Mirrors, the great gallery, where they craned their necks in order to get a view of the painted ceiling. Then they saw the Chinese rooms, a room panelled in lacquer in which, the guide told them solemnly, the Empress Maria Theresa spent her days when she was widowed and which made them both slightly claustrophobic, the Goblin Room, the Napoleon Room, a sad little memorial room of the young Duke of Reichstadt, endless rooms, decked out in red damask, leading from one to the other, affording, as far as Cordelia could see, no privacy. It was all a little more than she could digest and as for Eileen, while admitting that the whole Palace was magnificent, she could see no sense in living in a vast hollow square of huge rooms and said so.

  ‘Yes, but of course, these are the State Apartments, I daresay they had smaller rooms as well,’ observed Cordelia. ‘It’s all very magnificent though, you can just imagine the ladies swishing to and fro in their panniers and silks and satins.’

  Just the same she was glad when they reached the final Anteroom and went down the vast staircase and out into the courtyard, and agreed readily enough to go in search of a tea room.

  The gardens were a delight, vast and beautifully laid out, with the fountains at the far end. They visited the Roman Ruins, which weren’t Roman at all, but built in the eighteenth century. They inspected the dovehouse too and admired the various marble figures but Cordelia drew the line at a visit to the zoological gardens in the park. ‘It’s too late,’ she decided, ‘and we can come another day.’

  Although Eileen put up a token opposition, her heart wasn’t in it; they walked to the gates and since the doctor had been generous, took a taxi back to the apartment.

  The doctor was in the hall, bidding goodbye to a woman; not very young but still with striking looks and dressed in the kind of clothes Cordelia longed to possess. The woman looked both Eileen and Cordelia over and dismissed them as of no account, but the doctor wished them a polite good evening. Eileen would have lingered, but Cordelia took her firmly by the arm and urged her into the small sitting room they had come to regard as their own, and shut the door.

  ‘He’s got a girlfriend,’ hissed Eileen, ‘I thought he only read books.’

  ‘Don’t be vulgar,’ said Cordelia calmly, ‘Of course your uncle has friends. I thought she was quite
beautiful.’

  Eileen eyed her with pity. ‘You’re too nice, Cordelia: she looked at us as though we were road sweepings. All the same Uncle Charles isn’t so bad—I wouldn’t like him to marry her, I mean, when he isn’t buried in his beastly books or at the hospital, he’s quite fun.’

  Cordelia didn’t answer; she hardly classed as fun the polite conversation they carried on at meals, the brief discussions as to Eileen’s well being and the absent minded enquiries as to her progress at her classes. She didn’t feel she was qualified to comment.

  ‘How much longer must we stay here?’ asked Eileen impatiently.

  ‘Well, we’ll hear the front door…’ She realised uneasily that they wouldn’t, they were too far away. ‘I’ll take a quick peep,’ she decided.

  She opened the door cautiously and looked down the hall. The doctor and his visitor were standing where they had left them, the lady with her back to her, the doctor most unfortunately facing her. She met his eyes and closed the door again, which was a pity or she would have seen his smile. ‘They’re still there,’ she said, ‘we’ll just have to wait.’

  She found a pack of cards, got down on the floor with Eileen, and shared a game of Patience with her, they were arguing as to whose turn it was when the door opened and the doctor came in.

  ‘You don’t have to shut yourselves up here,’ he observed mildly, ‘You were free to go into the drawing room or to your rooms.’

  ‘We thought we’d better go somewhere in a hurry, in case you wanted to kiss her,’ said Eileen.

  ‘Eileen,’ said Cordelia severely, ‘You’ve just made that up and it was rude. Be good enough to apologise to your Uncle.’

  ‘Did you kiss her?’ said Eileen taking no notice.

  The doctor sat down on the arm of a chair and said calmly. ‘No—some ladies are so beautiful and so exquisitely dressed one hesitates to, er—rumple them.’

  ‘You wouldn’t rumple Cordelia,’ observed Eileen, ‘she’s not exquisitely dressed and she’s not beautiful either.’