To Journey Together (23 page)

After a week during which it was possible to snatch only brief intervals in which to visit such obvious places of interest as St. Peter's or the Colosseum or one or two of the superb mediaeval or Renaissance churches, Elinor found herself at last with a completely free afternoon.

Unaware that anyone else was equally free, she was turning over in her mind what she would most like to do when Kenneth came in and said, "Everything finished? Then will you let me take you out to the Villa d'Este? It's too hot to do any sightseeing in the city, but it's sure to be cool out there."

"I'd love it!" Elinor jumped up immediately. "Where is it, and how do we get there?"

"By car," said Kenneth, answering the second question first, and thereby showing that, as usual, he had somehow managed to get hold of a serviceable car. "And the Villa is out at Tivoli—about forty-five minutes' drive. There is a more or less ruined house and marvellous terraced gardens with fountains everywhere and cypresses that look as though they've been there since the beginning of time."

"I'll be ready in ten minutes," Elinor promised.

"No need to hurry. We have all the afternoon," Kenneth reminded her. And, though she could not have said why, this last statement made her feel very happy.

Indeed, they embarked on the expedition in the most leisurely and restful way, and in the end they took very much more than the suggested forty-five minutes to drive out there. On the way, Kenneth suddenly started to tell her something of his earlier visits to Italy, and from that went on to an account of the Far East, where he had done his National Service.

Elinor was a born listener who, it must be confessed, had had excellent training from her devoted family, and in consequence she made as charming an audience as a man could wish to have. In addition, Kenneth, who was a keen observer and had a nice turn for description, really talked with interest, and Elinor had no difficulty in playing her role of listener with enthusiasm.

Presently, however, he broke off, laughed at her absorbed expression, and said, "I'm talking too much about myself. Why didn't you stop me?"

"Because I was enjoying it," Elinor told him with engaging simplicity. "Please go on."

So Kenneth went on. And if either of them remembered why it was Othello first fell in love with Desdemona, neither of them remarked on the fact, which was perhaps just as well, in view of the very unfortunate development of that particular situation.

It was cool and enchanting, as Kenneth had forecast, in the cypress-lined walks of the Villa d'Este gardens, and the ceaseless sound of a hundred splashing fountains so delighted Elinor that she exclaimed, "You do choose the most heavenly places to show me, Kenneth. Just as you did in Salzburg."

He smiled and, though he said nothing, his expression was so peculiarly gratified that she added impulsively, "Did you really mind that it was Rudi who showed me so much of Vienna?"

"I should have liked to do so myself, naturally."

"But—it was very much his own home city. It

seemed so appropriate that he should do so." "Of course."

She trembled on the edge of feeling exasperated again, but firmly drew back.

"I should willingly have gone with you too if you had asked me, Ken."

"Would you?" He took her hand, swung it and smiled at her. "Well, I shan't grudge him his innings in Vienna. I am having mine now in Rome," he said lightly, and the subject was not pursued further.

During the next week or ten days, Kenneth interpreted what he called his "innings" in the most delightful manner. Work was not nearly so pressing and—sometimes with Sir Daniel and Lady Connelton, but often alone together—Elinor and Kenneth explored the thousand beauties of Rome.

They wandered among the sun-drenched ruins of the Forum, they climbed the steps to the Trinita dei Monti, they drove out along the Appian Way, where Caesar's legions marched, and visited the ancient Catacombs, and they spent hours admiring the beauties of the Villa Medici and then the matchless panorama of the city which was to be seen from the gardens.

Elinor could hardly believe it was possible to concentrate so much beauty and so many wonderful experiences in so short a space of time, and she almost literally felt her mind expanding and her spirit soaring.

She knew, though she tried not to dwell on the fact, that office matters at home in London would presently claim Kenneth's presence. But, although Elinor could see from various letters received that he might well decide to leave at any time, Kenneth said nothing and so she went on enjoying his company while she was lucky enough to have it.

In all this she did not forget that part of her duties consisted in being a companion to Lady Connelton, and the two of them spent many enjoyable hours wandering about the beautiful shops, or simply sauntering through the streets in the bright, clear sunshine.

It was after one of these morning excursions, when they had returned a little late for lunch, that, as they entered the hotel, Elinor suddenly saw two familiar figures standing at the reception desk. Even from the back, they were quite unmistakable, and Elinor was aware of a rush of pure friendly delight as she recognized them.

"Look who is here, Lady Connelton!" she exclaimed, enchanted. And, at the same moment, Ilsa and Rudi von Eiberg turned at the sound of her voice and rushed across to greet her and her employer.

Lady Connelton shook them both heartily by the hand, and they embraced Elinor with frank affection.

"Why didn't you let us know you were coming?" Lady Connelton wanted to know. "We would have been in to greet you."

"We thought a surprise would be nicer." Ilsa smiled from one to the other, and Elinor thought she had never seen her look more happy, bright-eyed and generally attractive. "Where is Sir Daniel? And Kenneth, too," she added as an afterthought.

"I don't doubt my husband is in the dining-room impatiently awaiting our return," Lady Connelton

said. "Ken has gone to Naples for the day on business. He won't be back until some time tonight."

She then invited the von Eibergs to join them for lunch, an arrangement which put Sir Daniel in high good humour when he saw them come in, though previously he had been glancing continually at his watch and feeling in rather a bad temper.

There was no denying that, if Kenneth had to be absent, he could hardly have chosen a better day, for, as it was, there was no second opinion whatever to disturb the general feeling of content and satisfaction around the lunch table.

Elinor, sitting opposite Rudi and catching a frank smile from him from time to time, could not help thinking how gay and sweet-tempered and charming he was looking. This was exactly how she remembered him and liked him best. And suddenly all the vague, unwelcome impressions which she had —most unfairly, no doubt—carried from that last meeting faded away, and she could only think how much she liked him and how glad she was that he and Ilsa had come to Rome to join them.

Presently, consumed with a curiosity which only good manners kept in check, Lady Connelton asked whether they had had very much difficulty over the settling up of their stepmother's affairs. At which Ilsa and her brother exchanged a quick smile, and Ilsa said, "I can't describe to you what a task it is to go through all the personal belongings in the apartment. The listing and valuing and sorting is quite distracting. It will be months before it is all finished. On the other hand, there are some wonderfully interesting things there, and, although I left it all willingly when Rudi suggested we should come here for a week or so, I really don't mind finishing it at my leisure when I go back."

"In any case, Leni has been very good to us," Rudi said, in such a warm, appreciative voice that Elinor wondered how she could ever have been critical of his attitude towards his stepmother. like." want to arrange everything just as she would like."

"Of course," Lady Connelton agreed, and obviously controlled her impatience with the greatest difficulty when her husband side-tracked the issue by embarking on a long account of an occasion when he had been unexpectedly made executor of the will of some remote acquaintance, who had left his affairs in great confusion.

"As though we wanted to hear about Dan's difficulties over poor stupid Bob Eldon's affairs!" she exclaimed impatiently to Elinor afterwards. "I couldn't possibly get the conversation back to where we started, after that. And I do so want to know if Leni Mardenburg left those two everything. And, if so, how much."

Elinor laughed.

"There was her great-nephew, Anton, too, you know."

"Oh, dear, I hope there was enough for the three of them," said Lady Connelton. "But I think our two had a—a rather satisfied look, don't you? One doesn't want to sound heartless, but, since she is dead, I should like to know if Leni Mardenburg left them—Rudi, anyway—sufficiently well off to make any necessary plans for the future."

At one time, Elinor would have been a good deal embarrassed by this very transparent, match-making way of putting things. But she had learned by now that, while Lady Connelton conjectured enjoyably on all sorts of matters, she never actually interfered in other people's affairs. So it was perfectly easy just to smile non-committally and go on thinking her own thoughts.

Both Ilsa and Rudi would have liked Elinor to join them for the afternoon. But, as she had been out all the morning with Lady Connelton, she felt bound to deal with some work which had been left over from the day before.

Even to herself, Elinor was not quite willing to admit that there was a certain charm, not to say relief, in keeping events in enjoyable suspension, as it were. It was enough to know that Ilsa—and, still more, Rudi—was there. She was not particularly

anxious to have developments go further than that, for the moment at any rate.

It was all very well for Lady Connelton to conjecture about their new status and whether they had come to Rome for any purpose other than casual enjoyment. For her part, Elinor thought she would rather not know anything about any particular purpose, especially if this were something which might involve herself in any major decision.

So she typed away devotedly in the private sitting-room where she did most of her work, and profoundly hoped that, when Kenneth returned, it would fall to the lot of either his aunt or his uncle to tell him that the von Eibergs had arrived from Vienna.

Fortunately for Elinor, her work was sufficiently exacting to demand most of her attention, so that the afternoon slipped away without her noticing much how time was passing. She was, indeed, just drawing the last sheet of paper from her machine when the door opened and Kenneth came in.

Even so, she was astonished to see him back so early—and one glance at his rather unsmiling face told her that someone had already imparted to him the unwelcome news.

"Why, hello, Ken." She strove to make her welcoming smile completely unconcerned. "You're back early, aren't you?"

"Yes. I got through sooner than I expected at the Naples office, and caught an earlier train."

He came over rather slowly and stood beside her desk, fingering one or two things on it with a sombre aimlessness.

An unusual sense of impatience assailed Elinor, and she felt almost annoyed with him. Really, did he have to make such heavy weather of the von Eibergs' arrival and look as though he had just lost a near relative?

There was a short silence. Then she said, in a rather briskly cheerful tone, "Is there anything the matter?"

"I'm not feeling exactly elated, naturally. I've just been talking to my uncle—about what's happened," was the somewhat cryptic retort.

So Sir Daniel had told him.

"Well, really, it isn't exactly unexpected, is it?" she said, wishing, not for the first time in her life, that people with either confidences to make or grievances to air would come straight to the point, instead of talking round it in a rather reproachful way.

"I'm glad you feel so philosophical about it."

"Why shouldn't I?" enquired Elinor, all the least patient part of her rushing to the surface. "You can't expect me to be sorry about it."

He looked for a moment as though she had slapped his face.

"Funny—I thought you might be," he said. And, turning on his heel, he went out of the room.

A good deal distressed as well as annoyed, Elinor looked after him. It was too exasperating of him to take this unnecessarily tragic tone over nothing more unexpected and disastrous than the arrival of the von Eibergs. He had liked them well enough when they were all together in Vienna. At least he had tolerated them socially. Why behave now as though she were in some way a traitress if she did not share his own view of them?

Elinor was not given to displays of temper, or she would probably have slapped her papers down on the desk and banged the cover on her typewriter. Instead, she stacked her work neatly, covered her typewriter carefully, stretched her aching arms, and decided that the long hot afternoon's work had tired her enough for a rest in her own room until dinner to seem the most welcome thing available.

By that time perhaps Kenneth would have realized how unreasonably he was behaving, and they could resume a more sensible and friendly relationship.

She had not really meant to sleep. But as soon as she lay down on her bed, all the warm languor of the late afternoon seemed to settle on her eyelids,