Now they had an awkward moment.
“If you don’t mind me saying,” Mr. Weber said. “I wonder if it is perhaps time you consider your next step. Perhaps in light of what’s happened, you would wish to return to your family, or even your husband’s family?”
“But we don’t know what has happened,” she replied. How could she simply leave? A minute ago, she’d been worried that she’d be forced to, but now she couldn’t imagine leaving with Oliver having disappeared into thin air.
“Mr. Weber!” a sharp voice said behind her, cutting into their conversation. “My staff have been told that our carriage is far from ready. Is the blacksmith in the village incompetent?”
“He is very competent, my lady. The damage is quite severe, and I understand it will take some days yet for the repairs to be completed.”
The countess’ mouth tightened with displeasure. “All this hullabaloo is not pleasing me,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I would very much like to be on my way.”
“That is understandable, my lady. If you would like, I can send one of the boys down to the blacksmith to get an understanding of how they fare.”
“Yes,” she said. The woman wasn’t pleased, but she was mollified. Her eyes turned to Clemmie. “You are the one whose husband has gone missing.” It was a statement rather than a question.
“Yes,” Clemmie answered.
“I was sorry to hear of your misfortune. It is a terrible thing to lose a husband.”
“It is… Yes.” It was all she could say.
“But one survives.”
It was a cold statement, but Clemmie suspected it was supposed to be encouraging. Perhaps that was as encouraging as the lady was capable of being. With that, she turned and walked away, regally floating as she tended to do.
Chapter 15
THE DAY DRAGGED. Clemmie veered between panic and frustration. They’d searched and they hadn’t found Oliver, so now they did nothing. Mr. Schonberg was still tramping. He’d gone out that morning and swore to her that he’d keep looking. His generosity had almost made her cry, but the most bitter part of her wanted to accuse that he was only doing it because that was what he wanted to do anyway. But that was her frustration talking.
The American had stayed out of sight since she’d left him in the tavern the night before. Perhaps he’d stayed and drank, or maybe he’d disappeared as well. She should check, but the man annoyed her so much, she didn’t want to. That was a childish reaction and she would ask if she didn’t see him during the afternoon.
Sitting where she was at the edge of the lobby, she considered the people around, this eclectic group of people. And one she shouldn’t know as well as she now did, because she should have left here without much heed to any of them, but now she was stuck in their company.
“The mists are rolling in,” Miss Juno said, returning from outside with her charge. “They sneak up on you. One minute everything is clear, then you look up and you can barely see two yards in front of you. Go into the breakfast room and we’ll ask for a hot chocolate for you,” she said to the child. Then she turned back to Clemmie. “I can imagine it would be easy to get lost when it does.”
How did Mr. Schonberg navigate it when the clouds came? She would ask him when he came back. Is that what had happened to Oliver? Then why hadn’t he been found? Surely he couldn’t have wandered so far it was out of walking range? If so, he should have found a road or a village. Or did the wilderness stretch so far it was possible to get utterly lost. “I think Mr. Schonberg is out there currently.”
“I should think he has a compass.” It was the countess. Clemmie hadn’t seen her approach. “Where is the boy?”
“He’s in the breakfast room. We are about to ask for some hot chocolate.”
“You are expected to be with him,” the older woman said sharply.
“Yes, of course,” Miss Juno replied, looking admonished. “I’ll just…” She walked to the breakfast room, and behind the countess came Miss Marnier.
“It’s getting misty again.”
“Actually, I think it’s the clouds,” Clemmie said.
“Mist, clouds. What’s the difference?”
That was a question Clemmie couldn’t answer, not that Miss Marnier was looking for an explanation.
“Care to join us for a hot chocolate?” the countess asked. It was the first time she’d shown any friendly consideration.
“I’d be honored,” Clemmie said and joined them as they walked into the breakfast room, which was otherwise deserted. “I was sorry to hear about the carriage. I hope it’s fixed soon.”
“Struck by a boulder, would you believe? It has delayed us for days now, and resolution doesn’t seem to be in sight.”
The windows outside were utterly grey. Nothing was seen at all, until she moved closer and could look down on the ground just outside the hotel. As Miss Juno had said, it couldn’t be more than a few yards visibility. “I do hope Mr. Schonberg is alright,” she said, then felt immediately guilty, because she’d written Oliver off. How could she say something like that? Careless and stupid, she berated herself.
“And what will you do?” the countess asked.
“Honestly, I don’t know. I can’t just leave. I have to know where he is, at least what happened to him.”
“And how long will you wait?”
Another question she didn’t have an answer to. Mr. Weber had suggested she leave too, but how could she? “I’m not ready to give up.”
“Then you are stuck in this place like we are,” Miss Marnier said with her arms tightly crossed. “Sitting ducks for these monsters.”
“Shush,” the countess said sharply. “No more of such talk.” Her voice wasn’t quite as firm now.
“They seek people to wreak their retribution on. Traitors. That is what they do. And now the mists come, and they come with
