“I think I must change before supper. My clothes are a little damp,” Oliver said and quickly finished his drink.
Guilt washed over Clemmie as she felt she should have suggested he change sooner, instead of sitting here and distracting him. “Of course, you must.”
“Mr. Schonberg invited us to join him and his wife for supper this evening.”
“That’s nice.”
“An early supper, we agreed. A full day’s activity encourages the appetite.” He checked his watch. “We should change.”
They left the lobby and returned to their room, walking through the dark, quiet hallway until they reached the staircase to take them up to their floor. In their room, the fire had been duly lit and the room was warm.
“I’ll change quickly and go in search of Schonberg. You’ll join us when you’re ready,” Oliver said brightly. Being leisurely in his room didn’t seem to suit Oliver. It was almost as if he always wanted to do something. A trait Clemmie was trying to get used to.
When it was quiet of the room, she took a deep breath and calmed. All the anxiety of the day was slowly seeping out of her. Oliver was fine, and now all those thoughts of disaster seemed a little silly. Obviously, he was right, Miss Marnier had clearly had a nervous episode. That did happen. She’d gotten fearful, and then she’d gotten fanciful.
Taking another deep breath, she looked around the room. Oliver wanted another day here. What exactly his plans were, she didn’t know, but she was looking forward to going to the viewing platform to see the glacier fully. And then, the day after tomorrow, they would move on. Her excitement at visiting Italy was growing, and they were now really close to the border.
But it would not do sitting here dawdling. Oliver and the Schonbergs were probably waiting for her, so she quickly repined her hair in a few places. It wasn’t bad enough to require the maid’s attention.
In all honesty, she would have preferred supper without company tonight, but Oliver had already made an agreement with the Schonbergs, and it wasn’t worth the discomfort of making excuses. It was just supper, and they were probably lovely people. Honeymooners like themselves. Surely they wouldn’t want to be entertained all evening.
The quiet hallway was dark as she walked down it. Somewhere, in one room, she heard shouting. Someone was unhappy. It was a man yelling. It wasn’t loud enough to make out what the man was saying, or even the language he spoke. All in all, it was distasteful. Such private business should not be conducted in a hotel where others were disturbed by it. It really shouldn’t happen at all. A fully realized person shouldn’t be yelling in any setting.
Oliver waited in the lobby, along with the Schonbergs, who looked perfectly healthy and lively. A day of tramping had certainly not exhausted either Oliver or Mr. Schonberg.
“This is my wife, Clementine,” Oliver said proudly and Clemmie smiled. She loved how Oliver was proud to be her husband.
“My wife, Sofia,” Mr. Schonberg said. “And I am Hans Schonberg.” With a quick bow of his head, he greeted her.
They walked into the dining hall. The weather had worsened outside, and none of the village could now be seen. Just a sea of darkness.
The countess was at her table with her party, even the unfortunate Miss Marnier, who looked a little pale, but otherwise looked fine. Clemmie tried not to observe them so closely, but it was hard not to after the dramatics of the day. The countess looked as fine and impressive as before, wearing a dark green velvet gown and headband with black feathers. The woman seemed to prefer dark colors, but they suited her. It would be difficult to imagine the woman wearing a light lilac or rose.
“I understand there were dramatics this afternoon,” Mrs. Schonberg said. Perhaps she’d been observing the countess’ party too. Her English was not anywhere near as bad as Mr. Coleridge had led them to think.
“One of the younger women had taken a fright,” Clemmie said, “but she appears fine now.”
“Which one?” Sofia asked, which Clemmie felt was perhaps a little direct.
“The one in the blue dress,” Clemmie complied.
“She is very pretty.”
That was something Clemmie hadn’t noticed. Had been too distracted by the woman’s distress and fainting. “Yes, she is.”
Their table was near the countess’ and Clemmie wished it had been further away, which was a silly notion. It wasn’t as if that woman’s nerves were contagious, but Clemmie wished to be away from such turmoil.
The child sat with them too, which did suggest an informality that surprised Clemmie. The countess didn’t otherwise seem a person prone to informality, but one never knew what people were like with their family. As stern and aloof as the countess seemed, she may be very warm with her grandchild. Again Clemmie wondered where they were going, and where they’d come from.
“And what are your plans?” Clemmie asked Sofia.
“We are to stay here for a few days. Then we will go to one of the spas.”
“Oh?” Clemmie said, having not been aware there were spas here.
“We adore the mountains,” the young woman continued. She was very pretty, with blond hair and clear blue eyes. By the look of her, it wasn’t sickness that had her seeking a spa. “And Hans likes to hike. I prefer the books and baths.”
“I am very much with you on that,” Clemmie said, liking listening to how Sofia spoke, the words she chose to use and the sentences. At times, it was as if she spoke German in English.
Hans and Oliver were speaking about politics—discussion which Sofia seemed perfectly happy to not participate in.
“We are on our way to Venice,” Clemmie said.
“I went as a child. It is pretty, but we do not prefer history so much.
