Love in High Places (11 page)

“I loved my father,” she said fiercely, resentfully, “and although he was weak, that didn’t make me love him any the less! He would be alive to-day but for my grandfather ... who cut off the money when he needed it most. Needed it to settle a mountain of debts. It was because he couldn’t look his creditors in the face that he took those sleeping tablets
...
” She bit her lip harder than ever. “I never want to see my grandfather again! I couldn’t ever forgive him
... ever!”

“He knows where you are, Valentine,” Haversham told her, capturing both her hands and holding them tightly, as if to give her courage, support. “I told him.”

She looked up at him with accusing golden eyes.

“But what right had you to do that? You hadn’t the smallest right!”

“I know.” His grave, good-looking face looked slightly abashed. “But I had to, Valentine!
I had to!”

She looked violently disturbed.

“You don’t think he’ll come here? You don’t think
—
?”

“He might try to get in touch with you, my dear,” Haversham warned her slowly, “because he wants to very badly, and he happens to be rather a close friend
—
a life-long friend
—
of the Countess of Hultz-Reisen!”

“Oh, no!” Valentine whispered, and they both looked towards the sleeping Countess, who, by this time, would need a great deal of rousing if she was to sleep in her bed that night.

Footsteps sounded on the flagged floor of the hall, and the door of the salon was pushed open, and the Baron and Lou made their reappearance. Lou was looking sulky, Valentine thought, and Alex was once more looking distinctly grim. He glanced swiftly towards the end of the room where the two were still standing who had been discussing a matter which had caused them both to look extremely serious, and if anything the grimness became more noticeable
...
particularly when Valentine made a sudden, half
-
guilty movement to free her hands from the novelist’s clasp.

“It’s late,” Alex observed, a look of cold hauteur making his face seem dark and forbidding. “I suggest that we all retire to bed.”

“I should like very much to go to bed,” Valentine said eagerly, moving away from the huge window that framed so many brilliant stars. Her glance went towards Lou, but somehow the Baron intercepted it, and the blaze of reproof in his eyes took her aback. “I
—
I have only been waiting for Lou
...
”

“There was no need to wait for me,” Lou said snappishly. “I like to go to bed when I feel like it, and not before.” She shive
r
ed ostentatiously as she moved closer to the fire. “However, I’m cold, and I shall be glad to get to bed!”

The Baron ignored her.

“There are candles for each of you on the table in the hall,” he said, the disdain of his look plainly indicating that he had no intention of apologising further for the lack of civilised amenities. “I hope you will sleep well!”

Lou sent him a fluttering look from under her long eyelashes.

“But what about your grandmother?” she asked. “Who attends to her
?
”

“That is one of Helga’s duties,” Alex replied remotely, “and Germaine will see her upstairs to her room.” He tugged on the bellrope to summon Germaine, who had absented herself all evening. “And now may I once again wish you all a very good night
?
” bowing elaborately from the waist, as a polite and courteous host
—
master of a
schloss
—
should. “If there is anything you need Helga will do her best to supply it.”

“What I would like is someone to accompany me along those gloomy upstairs corridors,” Lou informed him, with a sudden touch of appeal in her voice. She had deliberately allowed Valentine to collect her candle, and, with Haversham going ahead, start up the stairs, and now that they were as good as alone again she sent the Baron an imploring look. In any other mood he might have melted, for her eyes were very big and blue and faintly injured. “It’s not really very late, Alex! Couldn’t we sit down here for a little longer
...
Just you and I
?
”

“I think you are inclined to overlook my grandmother,” he replied crisply. “And when she awakens I wish to have a talk with her. Good night, Lou.”

“Good night, honey,” she replied a little defeatedly, but it was not her slim back that the Baron watched as she ascended the stairs. It was Valentine’s shadowy black back that was nearing the top of the stairs.

CHAPTER TEN

In
the morning Valentine made friends with Germaine, and also with the Countess’s trio of dogs, Anatole, Grizel and Trudi.

She encountered them all four in the courtyard, which she decided to explore before breakfast, and they were coming under the arch as she herself was descending the flight of steps which led down from the great front door. She had slept well and, warmly wrapped up, was delighted to be out in the sunshine and the clear cold of the morning, and while Lou remained huddled in her huge four-poster bed, and Helga knelt in front of her fire trying to coax it into a blaze, Valentine was formally presented to the dogs, who each lifted a paw and allowed her to shake it.

“They don’t mind the snow?” she said, in some surprise, to Germaine. “They are such little dogs that I would have thought they would hate it.”

“On the contrary, they adore it,” Germaine assured her. She picked up Anatole and tucked him under her arm. “This one is very old... a great-great-grandfather. But Grizel and Trudi are young things still. Anatole has to be taken great care of in case he develops rheumatism, and that is why I must now take him inside and dry him,” she explained very carefully, in her precise English. “So you will forgive me, Miss Brown, if I leave you
?
”

“Oh, but I’d love to come and help you dry all three of them,” Valentine replied. She had already sensed
—
in fact, immediately sensed
—
that Germaine was almost painfully shy, and she had a feeling that she wanted to get to know her better. “May I
?
”

“Of course, if you wish,” Germaine replied to that, and within a matter of minutes the two girls were chatting animatedly in a mixture of German and English, while the short-legged sturdy little dogs were given a thorough rub down and protected from the dangers of rheumatism. The rubbing down took place in a corner of the hall, and it was while Germaine was complimenting Valentine on her excellent accent when she was not speaking her mother tongue, and Valentine was about to return the compliment, that Giles Haversham made his first appearance of the day and greeted them both quite gaily.

“Good morning,
Fr
a
ulein
,” he said to the Austrian girl, who instantly blushed a deep, fiery red. “I see you are an early riser.” He smiled at Valentine. “And I know Miss Brown never takes things easily.”

He looked at her meaningly, and she knew he was thinking of their conversation the night before. It had been interrupted, but she felt sure he would return to it at the earliest opportunity. And, as for herself, she was appalled because
—
in spite of taking every possible precaution
—
she might be run to earth at any moment by her grandfather. And that would create a fresh set of problems for she knew her grandfather well enough to be certain he wouldn’t allow her to continue in her present position. He was a fiery old man, difficult to stand up against, even more determined than she could be herself sometimes
...
And there was the problem of explaining away a piece of deception that would hardly appeal to Lou at all, but which the Countess of Hultz-Reisen might find a little intriguing.

Valentine had a curious conviction that the Countess would find it intriguing.

And then she found herself wondering, almost irrelevantly, what Alex von Felden would think of it. He imagined he knew all there was to know about her, but he did not know she was the only grandchild of a very wealthy old man.

An old man who would one day leave her the bulk of his money, and although she had made up her mind
—
as a gesture of loyalty to her father
—
to refuse it
—
there was a strange sort of fascination in dwelling on the possible reactions of a young man in love with her (just a little, perhaps!) and in need of a rich wife.

He was not in love with Lou
...
She knew that. Somehow she didn’t believe that he even admired Lou very much, and that made the fact that he was willing to marry her so very horrible. But if he discovered that Valentine, in addition to appealing to him
—
physically
—
could solve as many of his problems as Lou could, and prevent him from worrying about finance in the future
...

The thought of his possible (and most likely) reaction was so distasteful to Valentine that it even made her feel a trifle sick. It was true that, for one wild moment the night before, while she had sat at dinner with him, she had yearned to be able to endow him with everything he desired. But to think that he might be willing to marry her in order that she should do that very thing was another matter altogether. Especially in the daylight
...
In the cold light of morning!

At breakfast Germaine and Haversham hit upon a number of topics that made it possible for them to carry on quite an enthusiastic conversation while Valentine remained mentally aloof and dealt with her own problems in secret. But when Alex joined them the problems had to be shelved, especially as it was she beside whom he sat down, and to whom he determinedly started to talk. He asked her if she had slept well the night before, and she had to admit that she had. He asked her
—
much more dryly
—
whether Lou was still sleeping, and she had to admit that, when last seen, the American heiress was hiding her head like an ostrich, and not even the promise of a really hot bath and a tray of piping hot coffee and rolls could bring her out from under the bedcovers.

“I’m afraid she didn’t sleep very well,” Valentine explained awkwardly. “The room was strange.”

“Your room was strange, but I take it you managed to sleep passably well?” the Baron returned even more dryly. His eyes were on the delicate colour in her cheeks, the fluttering movements of her long dark eyelashes against the purity of her skin, and when she lifted her head and met his eyes she was amazed at the undisguised feeling in them. If the other two hadn’t been so engrossed in a discussion on Italian art, and had seen that look, too, they would almost certainly have registered considerable astonishment.

As for Valentine, its effect on her was to make her heart bound in such a way that she felt as if something actually leapt like a wild thing in her breast. She looked down at the basket of rolls on the table, the dishes of preserve, and her hand shook a little as she helped herself to a wild strawberry conserve, and then hastily helped herself to more coffee.

“Won’t you please pour my coffee for me?” Alex
said softly, in her ear.

She managed to fill his cup without accident, and his hand touched hers deliberately as she passed it to him.

“I must see you and talk with you alone, Valentine,” he said urgently, in an undertone.

“Why
?
” she managed to ask.

He glanced at Haversham, and although she didn’t see the look she had the feeling that he tensed suddenly beside her, and when he spoke his voice was icy with displeasure.

“Last night you and your English friend seemed to be getting on very well together. I suppose it’s natural, in a way, but I’m sorry I allowed Lou to invite him. I shall be more sorry still if I come upon the pair of you
—
again
—
as I did last night!
...” He thrust the basket of rolls away from him with an almost savage movement, and lighted a cigarette as a substitute for something to eat. “Don’t take advantage of an impossible situation to torment me, Valentine,” he pleaded, in a faintly strangled voice.

She dared not remove her eyes from her plate.

“I’m glad you admit it is an impossible situation,” she returned quietly.

“It’s so impossible that I sometimes wish I’d never set eyes on you! At least, if I’d never seen you
—
”

“You could have married Lou without the smallest qualm and been ideally happy,” she got out in a low, contemptuous burst that none but his ears could catch. “But don’t worry,” she added swiftly, “you’ll do it just the same! And you’ll be happy enough! It’s only when you set a high standard that you’re liable to be disappointed
!
”

For an instant his dark eyes looked almost wounded.

“Valentine!” he pleaded. “Valentine, later today
—
”

And then the Count of Hochenberg, wearing a very gay sweater and twirling his inevitable monocle, came in, and conversation at the table was forced to become general. Valentine could hardly have felt more relieved, but she wondered whether Giles’s ears had been stretched a little more tautly than she had imagined, for he gave her rather an odd look as they left the table.

Lou didn’t appear downstairs until lunch time, but the Countess came tap-tapping with a slender ebony cane across the floor of the hall, from a little room she used as a writing-room, when Valentine descended the stairs after ridding herself of her warm outer garments after a further exploration of the outside of the
schloss.
The Countess looked quite pleased at sight of her, and stopped in the middle of the floor.

“Come here, child,” she said
—
or rather, ordered
—
and led her back into the little room which had a glorious view across the valley to the peaks on the farther side. The old lady pointed it out with her stick.

“Superb, isn’t it?” she said. “And always completely satisfying!”

“You like the mountains?” Valentine asked, rather shyly.

“I don’t like them, child,” the Countess answered, with an odd laugh. “I have lived amongst them all my life
—
at intervals, you understand?
—
and they have stood my friends on many occasions, and comforted me on many others. Mountains are things you never like, but you can feel so drawn to them that they will bring you back from the far corners of the globe.” She sank down, rather heavily, into a chair with carved ebony elbow-rests. “Nowadays I am too old to pay them many visits, and my doctor talks about my heart, and that sort of thing. It is better that I live on the lower levels, without much excitement, without much of anything
... these days!”

She sighed, studying Valentine with obvious interest, looking a little curious. And while she did so Valentine secretly admired the faded rose-coloured silk that lined the walls, and the group of miniatures above the fireplace.

Then the Countess spoke musingly.

“You have very distinctive red hair, and you remind me so forcibly of someone I once knew
—
possibly still know
—
that it vexes me considerably. However, there must be large numbers of young women with your colouring in the world, and I must accept it that you are just a young woman from England. But what puzzles me even more than the certainty I have that I
ought
to know you is the connection between you and that glamorous American with the abbreviated Christian name that is new to me
...
Lou! Do you work for her?”

“Yes,” Valentine answered.

“Pity,” the old lady observed, clasping the knob of her cane with two thin hands ablaze with rings. “I should be far better pleased if you had oil wells, and things like that, and my grandson was about to make you a proposal of marriage! You would fit very well into our family life
—
there is nothing about you that jars, as that young woman, Lou, jars at times, in spite of being very pleasant on the surface. But then she is obviously stupid, and has no appreciation of an ancient house like this.” She looked suddenly angry. “She is far more concerned with hot water systems, and modern innovations of that kind.”

“But you must admit they are important,” Valentine said, smiling.

“And are there not other things that are more important?
As
important, if you like!” the Countess demanded, banging with her stick on the threadbare carpet. “Preserving atmosphere, cherishing beauty, loving simplicity
...
Finding happiness in simply being
alive
! Believe me, if that young woman ever comes to live here, and can boast of being the mistress of Felden, she will turn the place into something that will bring me back out of my grave to haunt her and register my protest if it is at all possible!”

“Then
—
if you feel as strongly as that about her,” Valentine got out, in a sudden breathless rush (and she had no idea where she suddenly found the courage to do so, unless it was in a defiant challenge in the eyes of the Countess herself) “why do you not take the obvious steps to ensure that she will
not
be mistress here
?
Why do you not do that, Countess
?
”

The old lady regarded her with an amused twinkle in her eyes.

“And what steps would those be, child?” She moved one of her hands about before her eyes, so that the diamonds, rubies and emeralds in her rings caught the light from the window and gave off a kind of multicoloured fire. “These are quite genuine, as I am sure you have guessed, and there are heaps more in a safe place, where they will remain until I die. If I took them out of their place of safety, and handed them over to my grandson
—
as I am inclined to suspect you feel I ought to do!
—
then what good would that do Alex
?
Would it prevent him marrying the golden-headed Lou, do you think
?
”

“I
—
I don’t know,” Valentine answered, in a great deal of embarrassment
—
especially as the old, shrewd eyes seemed to be taunting her a little, and doing it quite deliberately. “But he does need money
... Or I
—I
suspect that he does!” she added hastily.

The Countess went on flashing her rings, and watching them appreciatively.

“He has a mountain of debts
...
Of that you can be reasonably certain,” she told the girl who sat facing her, in the calmest possible manner. “But then I fail to recall a time when Alex wasn’t troubled by debts, and he will go on exercising his genius for collecting them long after he has married our oil king’s daughter, and got her to make herself responsible for the bulk of them! There will always, of course, be the odd debt that he will prefer she doesn’t get to hear about
...
The diamond bracelet, or the mink stole, for the pretty little girl in the flower-shop who catches his eye, and is perhaps kind to him, or the bill for the wild party that is intended to drown his sorrows! He will go to considerable lengths to keep these items from her, for, according to his principles
—
and, of course, he has them!
—
one should be loyal to a woman who is above
all things generous
—
”