by Betty Neels
‘Pink?’ queried Cordelia, doubtfully. ‘But would that be suitable? I mean I never go anywhere—I thought something beige…’
She was howled down and made to try the dress on. It was undoubtedly charming and suited her; although she couldn’t think of an occasion when she might wear it, she bought it.
The afternoon was ending, shops were beginning to close and Eugenia said that she would have to go back to her hotel. ‘Or Gerard will wonder where I am,’ she explained, ‘it’s been quite super, and when we’re all in London we must meet. Gerard will have ‘phone numbers and know where to get you.’ She kissed Eileen and then saluted Cordelia just as warmly on her cheek. ‘I hope you’ll wear that dress soon’, she said, ‘it does something for you.’
On their way back to the apartment Eileen said: ‘Wear your new dress tonight, Cordelia.’
‘No, dear. It’s—it’s for special occasions—you know, when something unexpected happens and you want something pretty to wear.’
And when they were back in the apartment she smoothed its prettiness and hung it away in the big clothes closet in her room. It had been a waste of money, perhaps she would never wear it; it wasn’t at all the kind of dress she had meant to buy, but Eileen and Eugenia had been too much for her. Eugenia had been nice, she would have enjoyed being friends with her, but she was married to a successful man and they hardly shared the same background. Perhaps, thought Cordelia, swallowing a watery giggle, she would find herself being governess to Eugenia’s children. Just for a moment the giggle was in danger of turning into a sob. ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Cordelia loudly and went along to see what Eileen would like to do before dinner.
They were in the middle of a game of Scrabble when Thompson came along to see where they were and a moment later the doctor came in.
‘Had a good day?’ he wanted to know.
‘Yes, thank you,’ said Cordelia politely and left it to Eileen to give a blow by blow account of what they had done and where they had gone.
‘And Cordelia’s bought a dress,’ finished Eileen, ‘and it’s very pretty—she looks quite different in it.’
‘I hope not’ murmured her uncle. ‘I quite like her as she is.’ He smiled as he spoke and Cordelia blushed and frowned fiercely when Eileen looked directly at her uncle.
‘She says she’ll never wear it.’
‘Oh, yes she will,’ said the doctor. ‘This very evening. We’re going out to dinner and I must insist that she puts it on.’ He added firmly: ‘And you will have your supper here, Eileen.’
And for once Eileen had nothing to say, nor, for that matter, had Cordelia. She sat with her mouth slightly open, getting redder and redder, her surprised eyes on the doctor. She said at last; ‘Are you asking me to have dinner with you, Dr Trescombe?’
‘If you would give me that pleasure, Cordelia. Half-past eight, shall we say?’ And when she hesitated: ‘We can iron out any problems about your departure, can we not?’
It was on the tip of her tongue to suggest that they might do that just as easily in his study but she remembered the pink dress; perhaps she would never wear it again, but it would have been worth every penny just to wear it this once and to know that he had approved of it.
She said quietly, ‘Thank you, Dr Trescombe, I should like to come.’
He strolled to the door. ‘Good. I’ve some work to do—you’ll see Thompson about Eileen’s supper, will you? I’ll be in the hall…’
In order to steady her nerves, she played one more game of Scrabble before going in search of Mrs Thompson and coaxing Eileen to bath and get into a dressing gown with strict instructions to get into her bed by nine o’clock. And for once Eileen was remarkably nice and meek and obedient, so that Cordelia had more than enough time to get herself ready for the evening.
‘Very nice,’ said Eileen casting a critical eye over her governess, ‘You’re almost pretty, Cordelia.’
That from Eileen, Cordelia recognised as a compliment.
CHAPTER EIGHT
DR TRESCOMBE was waiting in the hall when Cordelia went to join him. She paused on the steps, surprised to see that he was wearing a dinner jacket. The pink dress, though pretty, hadn’t been bought with an eye to grand occasions. She said doubtfully: ‘Oh, I don’t think I’m dressed…I didn’t know…’
‘The new dress?’ he wanted to know. ‘Charming, and just right for an evening out. Dinner, I thought, and perhaps dancing after that?’ He smiled at her so kindly that her insides melted with her love. ‘Oh, that sounds marvellous, if you’re sure I’ll do?’
He took her arm and opened the door. ‘Oh, you’ll do,’ he assured her, ‘don’t you know that Vienna is a magic city and all women in it are beautiful?’
‘Well’, said Cordelia matter-of-factly, ‘I must say I’ve never seen so many pretty girls as I’ve seen here, but they are Viennese.’
She got into the car beside him and tried not to get too excited. She mustn’t read more into this outing than was intended; a kindly gesture at the end of her stay, a kind of thank you for carrying out his wishes to be left alone to get on with his normal life while she and Eileen were with him; without conceit, she considered that she had done that. He would be glad to be alone again, no doubt, with the faithful Thompson smoothing his path for him, and his work…
They were driving along the Ring towards the heart of the city and presently he turned into Karntner Strasse, stopped before a brightly lit restaurant, and observed, ‘Here we are—this is typically Viennese and I think you will enjoy it.’
Would he enjoy it too, she wondered as she got out of the car and accompanied him through the plate glass doors to be met and swept into the restaurant by the head waiter. The place was almost full, the tide of chatter and laughter almost swamping the orchestra’s playing. They had a table by the window and Cordelia, looking round her, thought what a delightful place it was with it’s small tables and their rose shaded lamps, and the gilded ceiling and walls. And once she was seated the dress didn’t seem so inadequate. She took a deep satisfied breath: ‘This is wonderful, Eileen would have loved it.’
He stared at her. ‘Eileen is an indulged child who has just about everything she wants; she’s my niece and I’m fond of her, but she doesn’t deserve all the delights she gets. You do, Cordelia.’
‘Oh!’ she was suddenly indignant. ‘Don’t pity me, Dr Trescombe.’
‘Pity you? I think I envy you Cordelia, you have the capacity for making the most of what you’ve got.’
She bent over the menu she had just been handed, fighting the impulse to tell him about her stepmother and the dull thankless life she had led before she had answered Lady Trescombe’s advertisement. She was saved from replying by his enquiry as to what she would like to eat.
When she hesitated he said easily: ‘How about smoked salmon to start with and then perhaps roast duck with black cherries?’
She agreed without fuss, only showing her surprise when he suggested champagne cocktails before they ate.
‘But we’re not celebrating,’ she protested, and added ingeniously: ‘I’ve never had one…’
‘There’s always a first time, and we are celebrating.’
‘Of course—us going, you mean? We’re very grateful for your kindness while we’ve been here.’
His faintly mocking smile disconcerted her. ‘I seem to remember you saying something like that before. Would you like to dance?’
The dance floor was large and not too crowded and he was a good dancer. Cordelia, who had little opportunity to dance panicked for a moment and then finding that her steps suited his exactly, gave herself up to the unexpected pleasure of dancing with whom she considered to be the best looking man on the floor.
‘You go to a good many dances when you are at home?’ asked the doctor in her ear.
‘Me—heavens no.’ Too late she realised her mistake. ‘Well now and then of course.’
‘And now you are governessing you have less opportunity,’ he suggested sm
oothly.
She agreed a little too quickly, so that he glanced down thoughtfully at the top of her neat head.
To her relief he didn’t mention her home or in fact anything to do with her while they dined, and presently, after the duck, they danced again. By now, Cordelia, with two glasses of the champagne, the doctor had ordered, inside her, was past caring about the future or regretting her dreary past; the present was wholly satisfying.
Presently they sat down again and she ate a dessert which only a Viennese could have thought up; chocolate and whipped cream and fresh fruit and meringue, she enjoyed it with the pleasure of a happy child and the doctor watched her, so carefully that she didn’t notice.
They danced again after that and then had coffee and since he assured her that it was far too early to go back to the apartment, they danced again. Much later she remembered to ask him the time.
‘A little after one o’clock’ he told her calmly.
‘It can’t be—’ Her eyes flew to his face, blandly smiling. ‘You have to be at the hospital in the morning, Thompson told me.’ She went pink. ‘I’ve kept you from your bed—I never thought…’
‘I think I won’t comment upon that, but I’ll come to no harm through losing an hour or two’s sleep. And what about you, Cordelia?’
‘Oh, I’ve had such a heavenly time. I didn’t know…thank you very much, Dr Trescombe for giving me such a treat, I’ll remember it always.’ She looked round the crowded restaurant. ‘What was it you said? The magic of Vienna—Eileen told me—you must love it.’
‘I prefer England. I’ve a flat in London, of course, but home to me is a nice old house in Wiltshire.’
She wanted very much to ask him where it was, how large it was, what it was like but she was afraid that if she did he would give her one of his horrible cool looks and tell her, in the politest way possible, of course, to mind her own business. She said instead ‘Wiltshire is a lovely part of England. I don’t know London awfully well—I don’t go there often.’
‘But you used to?’ his question was put so quietly that she answered it without thinking.
‘Oh, yes—with Father.’ She stopped herself just in time. It was imperative that she held her tongue and when he went on gently, ‘Tell me about him,’ she said hastily: ‘Not now I think; I really should be going back…’
‘Had enough of my company, Cordelia?’ The mockery in his voice sent the colour rushing into her cheeks.
‘No, oh no, you know that’s not true.’ She didn’t want to look at him but fixed her eyes on his shirt front. ‘But please will you take me back.’
There was no mockery in his voice now. ‘Of course, my dear,’ and when she looked at him at last he was smiling in a comforting way so that she smiled back.
They didn’t speak as he drove back, only as they entered the apartment she said again: ‘Thank you for a lovely evening.’ She stood uncertainly: ‘Good night, Dr Trescombe.’
He came to stand very close to her. ‘Do you know my first name, Cordelia?’ he asked.
‘Oh, yes of course, Charles.’
‘But of course you couldn’t call me that, could you?’ His face was grave but he sounded amused.
‘No I couldn’t. It wouldn’t do at all.’
He sighed. ‘Life is never going to be the same again,’ he observed, and when she gave him a puzzled look, he bent and kissed her swiftly. ‘Good night, Cordelia.’
She puzzled again over that remark while she got ready for bed, was he referring to leaving Vienna? Or because he’d finished his book and found himself without the work in which he always was so engrossed? Or was he—heaven forfend—going to marry one of the beautiful women she had seen? Several people had greeted him in the restaurant, but not the lovely creature who had come to the apartment. She shed a few tears at the hopelessness of the whole thing and fell into a troubled sleep.
He wasn’t at breakfast the next morning which was a good thing, for Eileen wanted a detailed account of the evening. ‘Did Uncle Charles like your new dress,’ she wanted to know, ‘and did you dance and what did you eat?’
Cordelia described the food and the dancing and the various dresses she had noticed and forebore from mentioning Uncle Charles and before Eileen could think up any more questions reminded her that her parents would be arriving the next day.
‘How about getting some flowers for their room?’ she suggested, ‘and you’ve a German lesson this morning, haven’t you? the last. You ought to give a little present—we’ve time to walk across to that shop where they have those pretty boxes of chocolates.’
They bought a beribboned satin box, had it gaily wrapped and bore it back to the apartment, stopping on the way to buy roses for Eileen’s mother. ‘You can arrange them later on after Frau Keppel has gone. Remember to thank her, Eileen.’
She went and saw Eileen safely into the small sitting room with her teacher and went off to find Mrs Thompson. She had an hour free and there was surely something she could do to help. There was the guest room needed to be got ready and if Cordelia would be so kind as to make up the bed and put out the towels it would leave Mrs Thompson free to prepare the elaborate dessert she had planned for the following day’s dinner.
Cordelia was glad to have something to do; she bustled round, tucking in sheets and shaking up the great duvet, disposing piles of towels in the bathroom and making sure that the clothes closet and drawers were lined with scented paper and that there was a book or two on the night table and notepaper on the small writing table under the window. The room looked nice although she didn’t really like the rather heavy furniture. She wondered how the doctor’s house was furnished and wandered out of the room and down to the hall, picturing what it might be like, so absorbed that when she walked into him on the last of the steps into the hall, she uttered a small shriek.
‘Far away, Cordelia, what are you doing?’
She told him and added, ‘Eileen’s bought some roses, she is going to arrange them when her lesson is over. We bought a box of chocolates for Frau Keppel, she’s been very kind…’
‘Ah, yes. I must see her before she goes. Go and tell her, will you? And then come to the study.’
‘Now what?’ thought Cordelia, poking her head round the sitting room door with her message and then knocking at the study door.
The doctor began without preamble. ‘Sit down. My sister ‘phoned this morning; their plane gets in just after lunch tomorrow afternoon. I shall go to the airport, of course, and take Eileen with me. I expect they will want Eileen to themselves for a while so I suggest that you take the afternoon off; I expect you’ve presents to buy and so on. We shall have dinner here of course, you’ll dine with us. I should imagine my sister will want to talk to you about her plans for Eileen but certainly not tomorrow.’
He wasn’t the same man who had danced with her last night and told her that the pink dress was charming; here was the Uncle Charles she had first met, the man who had said that she was rather a dull girl with no looks to speak of; he was so obviously pleased that she was going away.
She said in a wooden voice. ‘Very well, Dr Trescombe, I’ll see that Eileen’s ready for you tomorrow and I shall be glad of a free afternoon.’
‘That’s all Doctor?’ She said as she got up.
‘For the moment—there is a lot more to say, but that can come later.’ He got up too and opened the door. ‘In a few days you will be gone. It won’t be the same without you.’
She made herself smile and said brightly: ‘Well, no, it won’t; you’ll have peace and quiet and no worries any more.’
He smiled faintly and made no comment, only saying: ‘And you Cordelia? You are happy to leave?’
She spoke very firmly, more to convince herself than him. ‘Oh, yes, yes, indeed.’
She went past him and hurried to her room where she sat down disconsolately on her bed. She wanted quite desperately to have a good cry but there was no time for that; Eileen would be free from her lesson in another five mi
nutes or so, and the child had sharp eyes. She went and washed her face and made it up carefully and brushed her hair smooth and presently went back to the hall just in time to wish Frau Keppel goodbye as she left the apartment. The doctor came out of his study as she was shutting the door on that lady and hardly glancing at her wanted to know if his niece would care to accompany him to the shops. ‘A small present for your mother—but I have no idea at all, perhaps you could help me to choose.’
‘Is Cordelia coming?’ asked Eileen.
‘I think we might give her half an hour to herself, don’t you—put your skates on if you’re coming, I have to be at the hospital before two o’clock.’
So Cordelia, left to herself, went back to her room, did her nails, went through her cupboards and drawers with a view to packing their contents very shortly and then, since the doctor’s half an hour was in reality three times that length, she left the apartment and walked to the Rathaus Park and sat down on a seat in the shade. It was a very warm day, too warm to think seriously about anything. She gave up doing that presently and just stayed, staring in front of her; there was one day left before Eileen’s parents came, and perhaps they would want to leave again at once despite what the doctor had said, and after that she would never see him again. A pretty girl might have stood a chance of at least hinting at meeting him again, a clever girl might have done even better. Being neither she had no idea how to bring this about. Presently the pleasant surroundings lulled her futile thoughts and she allowed herself to daydream. It was thus, sitting like a neat statue, her face rapt, that the doctor saw her as he drove along the Doctor Luegar Ring, listening with one ear to his niece’s chatter and deep in his own thoughts. Eileen saw her at the same time and cried to him to stop and pick her up.
