A noise had her breath caught and she listened intently, fearing hearing the creaks and grinding metal of armor. Unease clenched along her spine as she listened. What was it that she feared? That they would come walking through the walls and carry her away?
A shuffling noise. She was too scared to move in case she didn’t hear something while she did. Then a door closing. Steps walked past the soft carpet outside and Clemmie told herself off for being so silly. It was simply someone leaving their room. Now she was jumping at shadows. Although the idea of a shadow moving right now would be terrifying, the state she was in.
With a deep sigh, she relaxed again, deeply hating that this was how she was spending her honeymoon. Poor, poor Oliver.
Time dragged and she simply stared at the wall until it was time to go down for lunch. In all honesty, she was rather hungry after the morning’s exertion, but she didn’t really feel like eating. Mostly she was going down because it was better than staring at the wall.
The hallway gave her that uneasy feeling that was starting to become familiar. She felt exposed here—alone and far away from everyone. Things had happened here. She’d heard it with her own ears. But then things had happened in the library too, which had been very close to where people were. It suggested there were no safe places. Even her room had untold keys to it. Or in the case of ghosts, perhaps keys weren’t needed.
Chiding herself again, she walked calmly to the stairs and down. Holding her head up and telling herself that she was absolutely not scared. But it was a relief when the brightness of the lobby shone along the walls. Mrs. Schonberg came into view. As always, she looked smart and well put together. “Ah, Mrs. Rowlands. How are you today? Are you coming to luncheon?”
“I am,” Clemmie said.
“Well, I’m alone today too, so perhaps we dine together, yes?”
“That would be nice.” Although she was alone because her husband was out tramping. A far cry from being along because one’s husband was missing. There was a certain callousness in Mrs. Schonberg’s statement, but perhaps that was more related to the coolness with which the woman carried herself.
Mrs. Schonberg’s arm slipped into hers and they walked together. And in other ways, the woman was very friendly and cordial. Clemmie still struggled to understand her.
“How is your designing faring?” Clemmie asked as they walked toward the dining room.
“I find the mountains inspiring. Nature has much to teach us. Jagged and sharp beauty.”
“A crow flew into the window yesterday,” Clemmie said, not quite sure why she did.
“Birds do not always see the glass,” Mrs. Schonberg responded. “It is a strange thing they do.”
“How long are you staying?”
“Another week. Then we return home.”
They seated themselves at one of the tables. “Will you tramp any more with your husband?”
“I don’t know. We’ll see. It is a hobby with solitude. The solitude of it is very important to Hans. He enjoys company at times, but his heart is with the solitude.”
“Oliver is not much for solitude. Or tramping, frankly.”
“It is a hard life if one cannot stand one’s own company.”
The statement gave Clemmie pause, because she was rarely alone. Had never really seen any purpose for being alone, other than necessary things one did in privacy. But even when changing, her maid was there. There seemed little purpose in being alone. It achieved little.
Although if one was designing things, she could see the benefit of being alone.
Speaking of alone, Clemmie had forgotten the main reason she was here and looked around the dining room. The countess and her party were there. The rude Italian, and the new couple that had arrived earlier. A man she didn’t recognize. “Mr. Carter is not here.”
“Who?” Mrs. Schonberg asked.
“The American,” Clemmie said, looking back at her. “He wasn’t here for breakfast either.”
“Maybe he has continued his journey,” the woman said with little concern.
“No, his things are still here.” Unless he’d checked out while she’d been in her room. It could have happened. The unease in her feared something much worse. She would speak to Mr. Weber after eating. Although she didn’t want to confront the idea that there was yet another man missing. A hard lump sat in her throat at the thought. Things were getting worse.
With a tight smile, she considered the woman in front of her. Could she and her husband be responsible? Or her husband alone? He had been out there when the soldiers had been calling. That they did know for sure. But why? Why would someone do something like that?
Chapter 19
WHEN MR. CARTER DIDN’T COME to supper, it was official as far as Clemmie was concerned, that something had happened. She’d stood by the door to the dining room and waited, but he hadn’t come. Mr. Weber was behind the desk and he knew what her concern was.
“He has disappeared too,” she said, looking over at him. A look of frustrated sadness met her.
“I hoped it wasn’t so, but I think you are right.”
“What must we do? Do we search again?”
Mr. Weber didn’t have an answer. “We must call a constable, I think. I will ask the staff to search the hotel again.”
Biting her lip, Clemmie wondered grimly. Could a constable solve this? Then she nodded. Something was happening here and simply waiting wasn’t likely to resolve it. It could even be murder. A chill rose up her spine.
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Last night, leaving the dining room. He was asking some questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Questions about where people have been over the last days. I think he was trying to identify who could be responsible.”
“So he was asking questions and now he has
