There was a hint of laughter in her voice and a mischievous glint in her eyes, and Victor was not sure if she was teasing him or not, but he decided to treat her question seriously. ‘Surely you could. And incidentally, it is, at least what I’ve seen of it so far.’
‘Why thank you, Victor. That’s nice of you. We love it. We’ve been very happy here, haven’t we, Christian?’
‘Yes, we have, darling.’
‘Francesca told me the house wasn’t used for many years. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to close this place up. Not permanently. Didn’t your parents even bring you here when you were children?’ Victor asked Diana.
She did not respond. Like Christian, she was reluctant to open up areas of conversation that were complex, often painful, and which also required long explanations. She had learned it was far better to avoid them when she could, without appearing rude.
Always attuned to others, Victor instantly sensed an awkwardness, and he wondered why his innocent remarks had caused this strange silence. He looked at Diana sharply, saw a faint flicker of distress cross her face, and then quite suddenly she smiled and shook her head.
Lighting a cigarette, she remarked, ‘No, they didn’t bring us here. Ever. In fact, they never came themselves. My father wasn’t very keen on Bavaria.’ There was a slight hesitation in Diana. She had surprised herself by saying as much as she had. It was Victor of course. There was something in him that made her feel relaxed, a trait in his personality that encouraged confidences. His eyes held hers, and she saw the questions, the bafflement on his face. Almost against her own volition, she found herself volunteering, ‘Bavaria was a hotbed of politics in the twenties and thirties. The wrong politics as far as my father was concerned—’ She halted when Christian coughed, not sure she ought to continue, looking at him uncertainly, wondering if he disapproved.
Apparently he did not, for he spoke up himself. ‘Our father was an anti-Fascist, Victor, and he had many adversaries here. Hider’s nasty little band of gangsters was pretty well entrenched in Munich, you know.’ Christian leaned forward, his face quickening, his dark eyes darkening to coal black and becoming intent. ‘Then again, lots of other Right Wing organizations had made their headquarters here, fanatics incensed about the Versailles Treaty, and God knows what else. There were also the Bavarian monarchists champing at the bit, wanting to have an independent state and their own king back, if you can believe that one! In any event, the whole area was dangerous for a man like my father. You see, he did not merely pay lip service to his beliefs, but was an active opponent of all those who were determined to destroy the Republic. He wanted democracy for Germany, not dictatorship, and he committed his energy, his time and his fortune to fight the destructive forces tearing the country apart.’
Christian shifted slightly in the wheelchair, and proceeded: ‘Naturally, it was better if he stayed away from here, safer for him in Berlin, or at our other Schloss, just outside Berlin. That’s why Wittingenhof remained closed, you see, was unoccupied for years, except for the caretakers.’
‘Very valid reasons, too,’ Victor said. He had not been mistaken about that remarkable face in the dated photograph. What he had spotted in those burning eyes was the fervour of the dedicated idealist. He could not help adding, ‘And what does a house mean, when your life is at stake. You father sounds like an extraordinary man, Christian, a man of great integrity and honour. I hope I get the opportunity to meet him one—’ Francesca caught Victor’s eye and the look now washing over her face prevented him from saying another word. Instinctively he knew he was on dangerous ground, that he had somehow blundered. There was an uncomfortable hush.
It was broken by Christian, who said calmly, ‘There are few men in this world like my father, Victor, men who recognize evil where others do not, who fight it all their lives and with every fibre of their being.’ He smiled gently. ‘But perhaps now is the wrong time to get involved in this particular kind of discussion.’ The smile became dismissive, but it was also friendly. ‘To continue the story of the house. After the war, we decided to move back to Bavaria, mainly because we had nowhere else to go. Our house in Berlin was flattened to the ground, and the area outside the city, where the Schloss was located, had suddenly become part of the East Zone controlled by the Russians. Our grandmother had inherited a house in Munich from her brother, and she knew the only solution to the family’s predicament was to open it up. We lived with her for several years or so, and then Diana came to the conclusion that Wittingenhof would be wonderful for my health—the mountain air and all that.’ He gave Victor a sly grin, chuckled. ‘We also wanted to escape Grandmama, I must admit, who is marvellous, but a bit of an old dragon.’
‘I’ll say she is!’ Francesca exclaimed, relieved Christian had so adroitly diverted the conversation. ‘Oops! Sony, Christian, I didn’t mean to sound rude or disrespectful about Princess Hetti.’
Diana and Christian smiled at her affectionately. The air miraculously cleared, and Victor looked at Francesca, who nodded imperceptibly, as if she was saying everything was now all right. Diana got up and brought the bottle of champagne, refilling their glasses. ‘But it does happen to be the truth, Cheska.’ She glanced at Victor. ‘You should have heard how Grandmother carried on when I opened my first boutique here. “Going into trade!” she kept repeating over and over again, making trade sound like a life of ill repute.’
There was more laughter and Christian said, ‘Poor old thing, living in the past, I’m afraid, but she has a certain sweetness, even if she is a bit dictatorial, and she loves us dearly, wants only the best for us.’
Victor nodded. ‘Naturally she does.’ He directed his attention to Diana and went on, ‘Francesca tells me you’ve been very successful with your business venture. Congratulations.’
‘Thank you.’ She smiled at him, liking him, hoping to communicate this with her eyes, wanting him to feel comfortable and at ease with them again.
The warmth flowing out of her registered with Victor, and he returned her smile. ‘You’ve also done a fantastic job on this house. There’s something quite magical about it, and the tranquillity is just out of this world.’
‘I’m glad you feel that way,’ she responded with quickness. ‘And when you go for a walk with Francesca later, you’ll be even more conscious of the peacefulness here, and the views from the mountain are quite spectacular.’
Manfred came in, announced quietly that lunch was ready to be served, and disappeared. Diana led the way into the dining room.
This adjoined the sitting room and was long and narrow in shape, with a stone fireplace on one wall, and a large window at the opposite end overlooking the snow-covered sloping lawns, and a panoramic vista of distant mountains. The room, with its white stucco walls, bare polished floor and dark wood furniture in Bavarian style, was somewhat masculine in overtone. But the basic austerity that prevailed was softened by a number of lovely floral arrangements in huge copper jugs, a collecting of green plants grouped in one corner, and a series of striking wood figures, intricately carved and painted in bright colours. These graced the tops of two long chests and the mantelpieces above the roaring log fire.
Christian propelled himself to the head of the refectory table that stretched down the centre of the floor, and said, ‘Sit wherever you want, old chap, no formality here.’
‘Thanks,’ Victor said, sliding into the chair opposite Francesca. Diana took a seat at the other end of the table. ‘I hope you like the first course, Victor,’ she remarked, indicating the small covered bowl in front of him. She lifted the lid off her own, and went on, ‘It’s lentil soup, a local speciality, and very tasty.’
‘I love any kind of soup,’ he answered. ‘And I don’t mind telling you, I’ve worked up quite an appetite by now.’
‘Good. Bertha, Manfred’s wife, is a superb cook, and she’s prepared a typical Bavarian lunch for us today. Well, for you really.’
‘That’s nice,’ he said, picking up his spoon. ‘You must mak
e a point of introducing me to her later, so that I can thank her personally.’
‘She’ll be thrilled.’
Whilst they were eating their soup, Manfred and Clara came in carrying huge platters of steaming sauerkraut, red cabbage, boiled potatoes, and a large serving plate of Bratwurst, thick veal sausages browned to perfection and topped with rich gravy. They placed the dishes on the sideboard, and then Manfred hurried to the table, where he poured local white wine, chilled and sparkling, into long-stemmed, green crystal glasses.
Christian said, ‘Lunch is always buffet style, Victor,’ and swung his chair over to the adjacent sideboard. ‘Come along, help yourself.’
Victor and Francesca rose together and followed him. As they filled their plates, Victor leaned forward and murmured in her ear, ‘It smells as good as my Italian dinner, doesn’t it, kid?’
She looked up at him carefully, smiling a knowing smile and said nothing. But her eyes did not leave his face and eventually she said, in a low voice of unmistakable intimacy, ‘There’ll never be a meal comparable to that one, at least not for me. It was especially delicious, and in more ways than one.’
The look she now gave him was lingering, appraising, and of such intensity Victor was momentarily dazzled by it, found he was unable to tear his gaze away from those topaz eyes. He felt a sudden tightness in his throat as he thought: She’s flirting with me. By God, she really is. I’ll be damned.
When they had returned to the table and were eating lunch and chatting, Victor remembered a comment Nick Latimer had made to him weeks ago, something about there being more to Francesca than met the eye. Perhaps Nicky, the soothsayer, had been right. This thought stayed with him throughout the meal, during which he spent a great deal of time studying her, was most attentive to every word she uttered, whether to himself or her cousins. He was totally tuned-in to her, conscious of every nuance in her voice, her every gesture. At one moment he asked her an innocuous question, and her reply was casually couched and utterly proper, but her expression was inviting, her eyes reflecting a hidden sexuality he had not seen there before. That’s a come-hither look, if ever I’ve seen one, he thought, amused. But a surge of excitement ran through him, one so forceful he was unable to ignore it. Unexpectedly, he was hot under the collar and below the belt, an unprecedented reaction for him across a dining table, at least these days. Well, well, well, so much for the little lady, he commented inwardly. She’s full of surprises.
Later, when they were back in the sitting room, drinking coffee and sipping Obstler, Victor had completely readjusted his thinking about Francesca, and he saw her in an entirely different light. Earlier in the day, on the car ride from the airport, he had finally admitted his attraction to her. Now there was no question in his mind that she felt exactly the same way as he did. But was he prepared to do anything about it? Probably not, under the circumstances. Don’t kid yourself, old buddy, he reproved silently, coming to grips with his emotions. You know damn well she’s under your skin, and has been since the first moment you met her.
***
Diana walked abreast of Christian, who was slowly wheeling himself down the gallery. She was thoughtful, her eyes subdued, her expression serious. She said quietly, ‘I do wish Dieter Mueller hadn’t come today.’
Christian brought the chair to a stop and swung his head. His eyes searched her face, and he reached out and touched her hand. ‘Yes, in a way so do I. He upset you very much, and I hate to see that.’
‘His information is so sketchy, I can’t take him seriously. Actually, I haven’t been able to for a long time. Personally, I think he’s merely clutching at straws. He believes every little rumour, every little story, because he wants to believe them.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Did he say anything else, after I left you alone?’
‘Not very much. He did suggest we put the pressure on again. In Bonn.’
‘Oh God, Christian, that won’t do much good. It hasn’t in the past. Why should it now?’
‘There’s always the chance that something might give on the other side. It might be worth a stab… just one more time. I told him I’d think about it.’
‘You’re not going to mention anything to Mummy, are you?’ she asked worriedly.
‘No, of course I’m not. There’s no point. It would only agitate her more than ever. Please relax, Diana, and forget about Dieter.’
‘Yes, I will. Life must go on, as I’ve been saying for the past few years, and as normally as possible. I don’t know why I let him get to me today. Stupid really.’ She shook her head, and a smile sprang easily to her lips. ‘Dieter Mueller is already forgotten, my darling, I promise you.’
Christian’ eyes filled with tenderness. He was so sure of her, trusted her, believed her. She always said what she meant, did what she promised. He wondered what he would do without her. Her courage gave him courage, and her determination to make their life normal gave him the strength to do the same. He said now, ‘About the dinner party tomorrow… did you invite Giorgio?’
‘No. Actually, I’ve decided not to see him any more.’
‘Oh!’ he exclaimed, surprised.
‘I discovered the other day, quite by accident, that he’s lied to me. Christian, he’s never been separated from his wife. Not ever. Apart from the fact that I can’t stand duplicity, I’m furious that he’s wasted my time. You know my feelings about married men—strictly no future.’
‘Who told you about Giorgio?’
‘Astrid. Who else?’
‘Ah!… I see. Then it must be true. She’s many things, our little Astrid, but not a liar. Nor a troublemaker. I’m sorry, Diana. I hope you’re not hurting too much.’
‘On the contrary, I think I’m rather relieved,’ she laughed. ‘The Latin lover is a myth, in my opinion. Looking back, I’m beginning to realize Giorgio was more in love with himself than with me; and to be honest with you, his silly games were starting to tire me.’
‘As long as you’re not sad or unhappy, darling. Incidentally, whilst we’re on the subject of romance, does Francesca know Astrid is coming?’
‘Yes. She doesn’t care. Anyway, she’s always liked Astrid. I think the affair with Kim caused her a great deal of amusement. Certainly she doesn’t blame Astrid in any way whatsoever. I don’t suppose Kim does either. He’s a big boy.’
‘Too true,’ Christian said, chuckling. ‘I think if anyone was upset it was poor Astrid. I know she didn’t want that liaison to come to an end, at least not when it did.’
Diana smiled. ‘Yes, she was a bit dramatic at the time. But she soon found consolation elsewhere.’
They paused at the door of the library, and Christian said, ‘I’m going to try to finish my Mozart piece for the Sunday Times. I want to get it off to London tomorrow. What are you going to do this afternoon?’
‘Finalize the details for the dinner.’
‘I’ll see you later then,’ he said as he wheeled himself into the library and closed the door.
Turning, Diana saw Francesca running down the main staircase. She waved and went to meet her. ‘Where’s Victor?’
‘In his suite, which he loves by the way. He’s making a call to Jake Watson in London. That’s the line producer on the film. Then he’ll change his clothes and we’ll go for a walk. Do you want to come with us?’
‘Heavens no, darling. I wouldn’t dream of intruding,’ Diana laughed. She linked her arm through Francesca’s and they walked down the hall together in the direction of Diana’s den.
Francesca looked at her cousin. ‘Dibs, I think Victor’s finally beginning to notice me. I mean me as a woman.’ She was unable to hide the joy she was feeling.
‘I know he is, I caught the look he gave you, when you were getting your food, and he didn’t take his eyes off you all through lunch. Frankly, I thought he was going to eat you up right there and then.’
Francesca glowed. ‘You do like him, don’t you, Dibs?’
‘Yes. He’s the most gorgeous
thing I’ve ever seen. But more importantly, he’s terribly nice and intelligent and kind. Yes, of course I like him. He’s very special, and this may sound like an odd thing to say, but I trust him. I don’t mean on a man to woman basis necessarily. Rather, I mean I trust him in the broadest sense of that word—you know, on a human level. I think he is loyal, that he’d be a really good friend, and that one could count on him in a pinch. Am I making sense?’
‘Yes you are. As a matter of fact, Daddy liked him too, the night we all had dinner together. Afterwards, he told me he thought Victor was a good human being. Quite a compliment coming from Daddy, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Yes indeed.’ Diana opened the door of her den, which also served as an office. ‘Enjoy yourself. Tea in the sitting room around four-thirty, four-forty-five.’
‘That’ll be lovely, Dibs.’ Francesca leaned over and kissed Diana on the cheek.
Diana was halfway through the door, when she stopped and glanced over her shoulder at Francesca. ‘By the way, darling, we’ve simply got to break him of that bad habit.’
‘Which bad habit?’ Francesca frowned.
‘Calling you kid all the time. Most unromantic.’
‘We can’t! I mean, that’s affectionate, coming from him!’
Diana gave her cousin a look of mock horror and then disappeared through the door, smiling to herself.
Chapter Twenty-Six
They were high on the mountain, nowhere near the top, but well above the Schloss nestling far below in the pines, a doll’s house now, its size and grandeur lessened by the immensity of the surrounding landscape.
Victor and Francesca had been walking for a good half hour, taking the upward-winding road at a steady pace. They had not talked very much since leaving the house, caught up as they were in their private thoughts. But there was a tension building between them, and this sprang from their awareness of each other. Knowing she had finally elicited a response from him filled her with excitement; for his part, he fully understood, at long last, that she was vulnerable to him.
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