To Journey Together (11 page)

"I am sure I shall adore it all," she said. "And I'll try not to fall in love more lastingly than you did."

"Well, there are plenty of other things to do too," Sir Daniel told her. "You can go shopping with my wife. She thinks she arranged this trip." And he laughed good-humouredly. "Fact is I meant to fit in some days in Vienna all along. I suppose we may as well take that good-looking Hungarian pair along with us. It will be easier for them travelling by car, with that injured knee of his."

"I think they would like it very much," Elinor agreed gravely.

"Of course they would," her employer said good-humouredly. "That was probably her whole idea in suggesting the plan to my wife originally."

"Oh " Elinor coloured a little on Ilsa's be-

half, both amused and put out that Sir Daniel read her friend so well.

"No harm in it," Sir Daniel observed tolerantly. "She is amusing and good company. There are a great number of people in the world today scrounging very much more than car-lifts without wanting to be even agreeable in return. Graciousness and good manners are extraordinarily acceptable, even if one is being made use of a little."

"I suppose they are," Elinor said soberly, not having thought of this before. "And Ilsa has lots of very good qualities too, you know."

"Very likely, very likely," agreed her employer absently, as he glanced through some papers on his desk, the subject of the von Eibergs finished so far as he was concerned. "I'll have a word with Kenneth on the 'phone this evening. He should be back the day after tomorrow, and I'll suggest to him that we set off for Vienna the next day." There was evidently no doubt in Sir Daniel's mind that Kenneth would accompany them. "He can drive. I don't doubt that both the von Eibergs can too, but he won't want to overstrain that knee of his yet. We can do the journey in a leisurely way, stopping one night in Salzburg, as my wife says."

And so it was arranged.

The von Eibergs accepted the invitation to join the party with an air of pleasure and surprise that did them credit, and, as Ilsa had so confidently predicted, Sir Daniel was able to arrange for the hire of a big car without apparent difficulty.

Everything has worked out splendidly [Elinor wrote to her family]. As we shall be coming back here, we are leaving most of the heavy luggage, which makes the travelling arrangements much easier.

Rudi's knee is much improved. He still limps a bit, but is quite active again, and declares that he will be fully able to show me round Vienna in a few days' time. I am sure he—and Ilsa too, of course—are going to be the most wonderful guides. It seems they still have their stepmother living in

Vienna. All their real relations are dead, as I told you. But this stepmother remains, and I think they mean to take me to see her.

I can't help feeling most curious. Rudi describes her as "fabulous"—whatever he means by that.

This afternoon I went down to the village with Ilsa to buy some souvenirs. They have some charming woodwork here, and hand-painted tiles, with designs of the local flowers on them, and of course the Tyrolean pottery. Ilsa bought a lovely cottage scene carved in wood—like a picture in three dimensions. I thought it was charming, but not quite what I would have expected Ilsa to choose for herself. And then she told me it was for Deborah—from Rudi!

Wasn't it sweet of him? I had told him about Deb trying so hard in her French test and doing unexpectedly well, and he said she ought to have a prize. At the time, I suppose I laughed and explained that prizes were only given at the end of term and that, in any case, Deborah had never had one. And it was his idea that she should have one now—from him.

I won't send it, Deborah, because it might get broken, but I thought you would like to know that it is coming. I wish Ilsa and Rudi would come to London one day. I should love you all to meet them. Well—who knows? Somehow I feel that our friendship can't possibly begin and end here.

Rudi's interest in the family and his charming and good-humoured gesture towards Deborah had completely won Elinor's heart, and since the Conneltons also appeared to take considerable pleasure in the company of the two von Eibergs, it seemed that the proposed trip to Vienna should please everyone. Except perhaps Kenneth.

Elinor awaited his return with feelings bordering on anxiety, for a variety of reasons. First, they had not parted the best of friends, and with Elinor this was such an unpleasantly novel situation that it

troubled her. In addition, she was afraid the inclusion of the von Eibergs in the party would irk him. And, finally, she could not help feeling uncomfortable whenever she thought of Rosemary Copeland speaking of their possibly meeting in Vienna.

But when Kenneth did arrive, suddenly all her misgivings were swallowed up in a sort of shy pleasure in seeing him again. Somehow, she had not quite expected it to be like that, and the discovery was something in the nature of a delightful shock.

She had never been one to hide or dissemble the warmth of her feelings in her own home circle, and so, when it came to her turn to greet him, she said with patent sincerity, "Oh, Kenneth, I am glad to see you back!"

"Are you?" He laughed—a curiously pleased laugh—and, for the first time since she had known him, he flushed. "Well, I'm remarkably glad to see you, come to that. And to find that we're on speaking terms, after all."

Elinor blushed in her turn then, but fortunately he had turned away to hear Lady Connelton's plans for the projected journey to Vienna.

"You will not have to do all the driving," Sir Daniel told him. "I understand Miss von Eiberg is an expert driver too."

"Who?" Up went Kenneth's eyebrows.

"The Hungarian girl," Lady Connelton explained composedly. "Ilsa."

"But—I don't quite understand. Is she coming too?"

"Yes. And that amusing brother of hers also," added Lady Connelton. "But as he injured his knee recently in an accident, I don't think we must count on him for too much driving."

"I see." Kenneth's glance rested reflectively on Elinor for a moment, and again she felt her colour rise, though she would have given anything to appear indifferent at that moment.

"Well, the plans seem to have been very well worked out," he conceded. "Whose idea was it, by the way?"

"Mine," replied the Conneltons simultaneously. Then they both laughed and Sir Daniel added, dryly but good-humouredly, "Perhaps, my dear, we both had a little prompting."

"Very likely," Lady Connelton agreed indulgently.

"Very likely," repeated Kenneth. And once more his glance rested on Elinor for a moment.

She wanted very much to assure him that she had nothing to do with this business. But, remembering the disastrous results of her over-explaining herself to Rosemary Copeland, Elinor remained silent and had to let Kenneth think what he would.

The next morning they made an early start, for they wanted to break the journey at Innsbruck, so that they could have at least a glimpse of the beautiful provincial capital of the Tyrol.

It was a clear fine day, with already a hint of spring in the air. That indefinable impression of life stirring and sap rising, even though, as yet, nothing was putting forth green shoots.

Everyone appeared to be in an excellent humour, and if Kenneth felt some reservations about the inclusion of the von Eibergs in the party, he concealed the fact admirably, and even sparred rather amusingly with Ilsa.

At Innsbruck they stopped for lunch, and took some time to stroll along the celebrated Maria
Theresian Strasse, with its matchless view of the snow-capped mountains which surround Innsbruck.

Much though Elinor would have liked to linger, there was no time to take more than a glance at the Imperial Castle and the famous Goldenes Dachl
that fairy-tale structure with its fire-gilt copper tiles that make it look as though it is literally roofed with gold. For the days were still short and they wanted to complete the first stage of their journey by daylight.

So they drove on through the bright, clear afternoon, and came at length to Salzburg, that flower of all festival cities, where all the cultural streams of Eastern and Western Europe seem to have united.

And, as Elinor gazed for the first time on that lovely baroque city of the plain, surrounded by picture-book mountains, Rudi said, half smiling, half serious, "No wonder Mozart was born here. Heaven could not have chosen better."

The light was beginning to fade, but the outlines of the castle on the hill were still discernible. And, as they drove along by the hurrying, chattering Salzach, Sir Daniel explained to Elinor how, in former years, when the "Glockenspiel", or silvery peal of bells in the town, used to play a Mozart air at sunset, from far away in the castle on the hill, the organ would reply with the same air, so that the sound, borne faintly on the breeze, would seem like some celestial echo of harmony from another sphere.

"They don't do it any longer." Sir Daniel shook his head sadly. "Organ out of repair, I suppose, or something equally prosaic. But it was part of the magic of Salzburg—and one's youth."

"They'll mend the organ one of these days," Lady Connelton declared cheerfully. "There's no need to get melancholy and nostalgic, dear."

This annoyed Sir Daniel, who had been rather enjoying his little bit of melancholy nostalgia. But before he could reply sharply, Ilsa leaned towards him with her sweetest, most understanding smile and said, "Half the charm of Austria lies in its nostalgic memories, doesn't it?"

"Of course, of course," Sir Daniel agreed, and evidently thought Ilsa had justified her inclusion in the party.

Their hotel was situated in one of the superb seventeenth-century squares, and, as Lady Connelton remarked with satisfaction, it seemed that the comfort within equalled the picturesqueness without.

"I am all for beauty and fidelity to period until it comes to beds and plumbing," she confided to Elinor. "That's one point where I do find myself so much in sympathy with the American tourist. The hardy and uncomplaining British have been touring the Continent for generations, you know, and putting

up with exactly what they found there. But not so the Americans! When they started going abroad in what I am sure they would call 'a big way', they expected to find comfort and cleanliness along with the culture. And what the tourist expects and will pay for, he can always find on the Continent. They found their comfort and cleanliness all right, and we have all benefited since. Particularly the very superior people who talk about the almighty dollar," added Lady Connelton with characteristic humour, "and pretend there is some virtue in being poor and inefficient."

Elinor, who loved Lady Connelton's trenchant comments, chuckled over this, and admitted that she too was by no means superior to the attractions of sheer comfort.

Over dinner plans were made for the following day, and, as these included a comparatively early start, Elinor had already resigned herself to seeing no more of Salzburg than could be managed in an early morning walk. However, when she announced her intention of getting up early for this purpose, Kenneth immediately said, "If you like, I will drive you round. You will see much more that way."

"But—" she looked rather doubtfully at him—"if you are going to drive during most of the day, you won't want to take me on a tour first."

Rudi began to say at this point that it would be very simple for him to take Elinor by taxi. But Kenneth merely reiterated that he would make himself responsible for Elinor's seeing something of Salzburg.

"What time do you want to start? Half-past seven?—quarter to eight?" he enquired, and Elinor had the distinct impression that he was not at all displeased to be cutting out Rudi in this particular respect.

"Half-past seven—if you really don't mind starting so early," she said.

"I really don't mind," Kenneth assured her. And so it was settled.

That night, just as she was going to bed, Ilsa

looked in to bid her a final good night, and, smiling a little quizzically at Elinor, she said, "Your Kenneth is becoming a trifle masterful, isn't he?"

"Masterful?" Elinor flushed at the word. "Towards me, do you mean?"

"Of course. Who else?" Ilsa looked amused. "He was very determined that no one else should show you Salzburg."

"Oh, that—that's just his manner."

"He feels he has some sort of proprietary rights in you, since you are part of his family group?" suggested Ilsa.

"Dear me, no!" exclaimed Elinor, who could not feel that any of his experience with her could have given him a feeling of proprietary rights. "It's just that when he's made up his mind to something, he doesn't let anyone else come in between."

"Which is rather how I should define 'masterful'," retorted Ilsa with a laugh. Then she went off, leaving Elinor to think that over in the few minutes before she fell asleep.

The next day Elinor rose in good time, to find the morning clear and sunny, with a sky of pale, heavenly blue overhead and a
spring like
sparkle to everything on the ground. When she was dressed, she ran quietly downstairs through the still silent hotel, wrapped warmly in her burgundy-coloured travelling coat, with a smoky blue scarf over her head, which imparted the faintest blue tinge to her grey eyes.