Clemmie blushed at the compliment, and it made her more determined to learn. Impressing him by learning Italian was definitely something she could do. Then she could interact with people in shops and restaurants when they couldn’t speak English. It made her more determined. She would search through the shelf, perhaps to seek a book for younger readers. They were always better for starting a new language as they used the simplest possible words, to establish the basics. Then she could go from there. Perhaps there was a bookseller in the village. An Italian to English lexicon would be brilliant.
It was still strange to think she could just go, without a maid or anyone’s approval. Well, Oliver’s, but she doubted he would disapprove. It was encouraging that he placed trust in her. She wouldn’t do anything to make him doubt he could.
“I will change into more sturdy clothes, I think,” Oliver said.
“It’s misty, so I think wool might be best.”
“Yes,” he mumbled as he started to leave. Then he turned. “See you this afternoon. I shall conquer.”
Clemmie smiled as she watched him leave, then returned to perusing the books, picking out a few she would look through. Firstly, she needed to establish basic syntax. Perhaps she should go get her journal, so she could write out the things she learned. It tended to help.
For a while, she was too distracted by reading the sentences, trying to determine the meaning and sentence structure. The basics were discernable, although some of the vocabulary was more opaque. That would be remedied by a good lexicon. Maybe she should ask Mr. Weber if there was a bookseller in the village.
Looking up, she saw that an hour had passed. Oliver would be out there traversing the mountain. Had Mrs. Schonberg joined them? Surely not. Such activities were not for young women from well-to-do families. In all honesty, Clemmie had never really traversed anything rougher than parklands, and that was strictly on nice, sunny summer days.
Rising from her seat, she walked out of the library into the main lobby. People were sitting by the fire, and she could see a few others milling around. In a way, she was quite sorry Mr. Coleridge had left. It was nice to have a familiar face, and she doubted he’d have gone tramping around a mountain. He’d seemed more of a man to study things from the comforts of his favorite chair.
A wail broke through and the outer door to the hotel slammed open. A woman Clemmie vaguely remember fell onto the floor. “Help me!” she called, before scrambling up and rushing further inside, looking utterly terrified. “Something was chasing me.” She spoke in German, and Clemmie doubted she understood for a moment.
“What do you mean?” Clemmie asked, but the woman rushed past her toward Mr. Weber.
“I could hear them. In the mist. I hear them. I swear. I’m not making this up. They were in the mist.”
“There is no mist today,” Mr. Weber said, looking utterly confused.
Maybe Clemmie was misunderstanding.
“I felt them tug on my hair, on my dress. They wanted to hurt me.” Tears streaked down her pale face, where brown strands of hair stuck to her neck as if they were wet. Her hair was messy as if she’d been through an ordeal, and her hands were dirty.
“Who?”
“The ghosts.”
Clemmie blinked. Ghosts?
“I almost fell. Hands pushed me. I was so close to the edge and they pushed. I had to fight for my very survival.”
“Who?” Mr. Weber asked again.
“They wanted me dead. Such malice. I have never felt anything like it.”
“Klaus,” Mr. Weber called. “A brandy, quick.”
The woman stumbled, but Mr. Weber caught her and led her over to a chair.
“I’ve never been so terrified,” she sobbed. A glass of brandy was given to her, but her fingers shook so harshly the liquid spilled. Mr. Weber tried to steady her as she took a sip.
“You’re very cold. The fire will warm you.”
“What’s happened, Miss Marnier?” a woman said, having appeared from the hall, and then Countess von Rothbach behind her.
“What is this?” the countess demanded, looking harshly at the assembled party. Miss Marnier sobbed more harshly.
“They spoke words I didn’t understand,” Miss Marnier continued.
“Robbers?” the countess demanded.
“There are no robbers in these parts,” Mr. Weber said, slightly offended by the comment.
“There are always robbers,” the countess countered with a stern look. “Miss Juno, get my smelling salts.”
The young woman rushed off, and it had been good instinct, because Miss Marnier fainted. Mr. Weber was trying to balance the brandy and the young woman. Clemmie took the glass of brandy out of his hand, so he could steady Miss Marnier better.
There was an awkward silence for a moment.
“A search party needs to be sent out for these men,” the countess stated.
“The young woman said they were ghosts,” a man with an American accent said. Clemmie hadn’t noticed him before.
“She’s clearly overwrought and doesn’t know what she saw. She’s an easily frightened woman anyway, who suffers from flights of fancy. The district needs to be searched.”
“I will send for the doctor,” Mr. Weber said quietly.
“I’m sure that’s not necessary. She will revive,” the countess said, seeing Miss Juno return with a small silver bottle. Leaning down, she opened the stopper under Miss Marnier’s nose, who quickened with the noxious scent. “See, all is well. We must settle her nerves. I have some laudanum.”
Miss Marnier started weeping again, but she was calmer. “They spoke like priests do,” she said.
“You mean Latin?” Clemmie asked, but Miss Marnier was too distracted with her own shock to respond. Meanwhile, Miss Juno helped her rise and they unsteadily walk toward the hallway leading to the rooms.
“There seemed to be some well-educated robbers in the district,” the American said, and Clemmie felt the comment was unhelpful. Lots of people spoke Latin, but yes, it was the purview of the educated. Priests, doctors and botanists. This was very
