Could it be that someone had been chasing him and he’d made his way onto the glacier to escape them? That woman, Miss Marnier, said she’d been attacked.
Ghost stories had been nothing but silly stories to create chills on a cold, dark evening. It wasn’t something she believed in, but now there was the suggestion that ghosts had stolen her husband from her, that they had terrorized before—were known for it.
How could one believe anything at times like this? She didn’t know what to think. Was it out of the realm of possibility? Especially when the locals had been hearing these ghosts on the mountain for centuries?
The room was warm, the fire having been lit. With searching eyes, she looked around the room. It felt easier to focus on the immediate. Was she safe? These ghosts had been wandering the corridors of the hotel. How safe was she really? Did locks keep them out? Locks weren’t known for keeping ghosts out.
How she wished this would all go away, that they’d simply skipped this hotel and kept going. They would be in Italy now. Instead, she was stuck in this awful hotel, with nowhere to go, and not a notion of what to do. And worse, Mr. Weber might have to evict her soon.
Pushing the blankets aside, she rose and walked over to Oliver’s trunk. She hadn’t gone near it until now. It had always been his domain, and she’d stayed out of it.
The lid was heavy when she lifted it and inside his clothes were neatly folded away. That wasn’t his doing, she thought with a smile. Oliver wasn’t the tidiest. Maids had cared for him his whole life, and that hadn’t changed simply because he’d gone on his honeymoon.
Kneeling down, she searched through the trunk. What were the chances that his wallet was in there? It would solve a great deal of pressing issues if it was. Where he kept it, she wasn’t sure. On his person most likely. That seemed to have been the case in Paris. Too many people had access to a hotel room to be safe for valuables, but one never knew.
Searching all pockets of both trunk and clothes, she found no wallet. A pile of coins was all she came away with. Coins that had been left in his clothes as he’d discarded them. It certainly wasn’t enough to support her, or to pay for the bill for staying at this hotel.
Without money, she might end up with no carriage, and nowhere to live. Maybe the driver would be kind and take her back to France if he was going that way. From there, she had no means. In a city, perhaps her father could organize a line of credit with a bank. She didn’t even have enough money to send a telegram.
There were potentially some things she could sell, but not in a village like the one here. She needed a city, and she didn’t even know which one was closest. How had she not paid attention to anything? There would be an atlas in the library, so she didn’t have to embarrass herself by having to ask.
The bell pull called the maid to her. She needed to dress and go discuss her situation with Mr. Weber. It took a few moments for the maid to come and Clemmie smiled tightly at the girl, who helped her with her hair and then her corset and dress. The girl worked swiftly and they were soon finished. Clemmie knew the girl would stay to tidy and to make the bed as soon as she left.
The dark corridor wasn’t brightened by daylight. It wasn’t the brightest day, but little of the light made it into the corridor. Lanterns still lit the way. The lobby was brighter, and as expected, she found Mr. Weber behind the desk.
Her throat had gone dry with unease. This was not a discussion she wanted to have, and she didn’t know how she would react if her worst fears were confirmed. Mr. Weber didn’t appear to be a cruel and unreasonable man, but Clemmie knew there was only so long he could be accommodating. People without money didn’t fare well in the world.
“Mr. Weber, can you tell me about the arrangements you had with my husband about our stay.” She tried to smile, but it felt forced.
“There were no particular arrangements to speak of,” he said, looking a little confused.
Nervousness asserted again. She didn’t know how to put this. “Did my husband by chance pay for this accommodation in advance?”
“No, that is not the case.”
That was what she feared hearing. “As it happened, my husband was the one that dealt with all monetary things.” Had she said that in past tense, as if she’d assumed he wasn’t coming back? “And he seems to have those resources with him… wherever he is,” she finished awkwardly. “My father is a man of means, and he can more than compensate for any services I engage at this difficult time.”
“I understand,” he said with a nod. “Or perhaps you can utilize the purse that your husband left in the safe.”
“Safe?” she asked.
“Yes, upon arrival, he left a purse in our safe for safekeeping.”
Why hadn’t she known this? Because it wasn’t something she’d paid attention to. There was a purse. Perhaps enough to support her while everything was so… horrid.
Relief washed over her. She wouldn’t find herself out on the street with no means.
“I take it it’s enough to cover any expenses incurred?” she asked tactfully.
“I should say so,” he replied. “I have not gone into it, but it seemed weighty enough.”
“Thank you, Mr. Weber. That is encouraging
