The Longest Winter

by Mary Jane Staples

  Sophie, standing at the drawing-room windows, suddenly entered the lists after a period of unusual quiet from her. She said, ‘I presume James has survived whatever misfortunes he has encountered since he returned with us? Or does anyone know if he has gone off in search of other maidens in distress?’

  This little burst of bitterness was so unlike Sophie that it produced a slightly shocked silence. Carl, standing near her, looked hard at her.

  ‘It’s not like you to be as ungenerous as that, Sophie,’ he said.

  She turned away, looking out at the gardens bright with the colours of summer. Carl, puzzled and curious, moved closer and peered at her. He was startled to see the glitter of tears. Sophie never shed tears, she could always deal with the ups and downs of life without resorting to a moist lament. It did not take him more than a second or two to understand. Sophie, previously so blithe and fancy-free, had fallen hard. Her predilection for James had been the most obvious thing about her recently. And she had seen nothing of him for days.

  ‘Oh, that’s all right, Sophie,’ he murmured and squeezed her arm. She cast him a grateful but unsteady smile.

  The baroness, aware of the upset aside, said lightly to Major Moeller, ‘What is James doing these days, do you know?’

  ‘Oh, we’ve met a couple of times. He draws and I jaw.’ The major smiled. ‘Can’t get him interested in fishing, though. Nor in shooting. Pity. He has an aptitude for good sport, you know, but is shockingly lazy about it.’

  ‘Not all the time,’ said Anne. She glanced at Sophie. Sophie still had her back turned. ‘But he’s getting a little forgetful, isn’t he? He promised to call.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Sophie, sounding a long way off, ‘he’s moving in more artistic circles.’

  ‘James?’ said the major. ‘I hope not. That’s certain death to any sportsman.’

  The baroness found Sophie sitting in the garden later, a book in her lap.

  ‘Sophie,’ she said, ‘Anne and Ludwig are going to drive out with Carl. Wouldn’t you like to join them?’

  ‘I don’t think so, Mama,’ said Sophie, ‘I’m not really very good company at the moment.’

  ‘It’s been one thing and another, hasn’t it?’ The baroness was lightly sympathetic. Sophie did not look up. That caused a little inquisitive concern in her mother. The baroness, grateful to life and Ernst and providence for giving her three children quite matchless, would have gladly taken on the heartaches of all of them. But she always trod as tactfully and carefully as she could. She knew she must be particularly careful with Sophie, whom she felt to be the most intelligent of her children and yet the most sensitive. It was not like Sophie to suffer depression, however, or moods. She was equable where Anne was ebullient, and she warmed to life in her intense appreciation of it as Anne sparkled in her uninhibited enjoyment of it. ‘Yes, one thing and another, darling.’

  ‘Mama,’ said Sophie in a suppressed voice, ‘I’m quite recovered from one thing and another. I’m simply in the throes of a new ordeal, and I’m not enduring it at all well.’

  The baroness, quite aware now of what was wrong, said gently, ‘It’s James, isn’t it?’

  Sophie smoothed the fluttering pages of her book and said, ‘Mama, why doesn’t he call? Ludwig has been every day, and Major Moeller, who is quite a new friend, has taken the trouble to come and see us. Wouldn’t you think James would too? He isn’t throwing us over, is he?’

  ‘Throwing us over?’ The baroness was slightly astonished. ‘But I thought you and James— Darling, I don’t wish to interfere or jump to conclusions or ask the wrong questions, but I did infer from what you said at Ilidze that you and he were coming to an understanding. Was I mistaken?’

  ‘I have a very worried feeling that I was, that I heard things he didn’t really say. Oh, why doesn’t he come and see me?’

  ‘Shall I send him a note and ask him to call?’ suggested the baroness.

  ‘No.’ Sophie looked up then. Uncertainty had diminished her elan but not her pride. ‘Mama, he must call without being begged or persuaded.’

  What have I done, she thought distractedly, that he doesn’t?

  James, in fact, knowing that the archduke’s murder had deeply affected the von Korvacs and given the baron some official worries, had simply decided not to intrude on the family for a while. In any case, he needed a few days to think long and hard about marriage to Sophie. Yet for all the attention he gave to the ifs and buts, he knew he had already made up his mind to do what she had asked him to. Propose to her. Sophie, despite considering herself modern, still wanted a formal proposal. But did she genuinely understand that her horizons as his wife would not be the limitless ones they were now, when she had the world at her feet? She was quite lovely, she was creative, and she was blessed with wheedling voice magic. And the world did come to Vienna. It did not come to Warwickshire. Warwickshire, by comparison with Vienna, would be parochial.

  He thought about it. He still had his room at the Ecole Internationale, for Maude insisted he was more than welcome to it for as long as it suited him. She enjoyed his company, his presence at mealtimes and during the relaxing quietness of the evenings. Over lunch one day they discussed the Sarajevo tragedy and its possible repercussions. Maude, widow of a diplomat, had her ear instinctively to the ground, as well as friends in the service, and she frankly did not like what she heard about the belligerent nature of Count Berchtold’s attitude.

  ‘I think he means to accuse the Serbian government of being the instigators of the plot,’ she said, ‘I think he means to denounce Serbia and break her. Serbia, you see, has ambitions concerning Bosnia and Herzegovina, which are provinces of the Austrian empire. That makes Serbia a thorn in the flesh of Austria. Count Berchtold wants to remove that thorn, to destroy it. If he convinces the emperor that this can only be done by making war on Serbia, the consequences might be far more serious than he seems to think.’

  ‘Why?’ asked James.

  ‘Why? My dear James,’ said Maude, ‘aren’t you aware that the Russians consider themselves the protectors of all Slav peoples? If Austria does go to war with Serbia, Russia will go to war with Austria. The Germans won’t stand aside from that. Their Kaiser has made that quite clear. They’ll declare war on Russia. Russia has a pact with France. James, the whole thing could escalate in the most frightful way.’

  ‘Austria at war?’ James felt appalled. He saw Carl going off to fight and Sophie as a Red Cross nurse. ‘That’s madness. Madness can happen among lunatics, but not among nations. Can it? Not in this day and age, surely.’

  But he knew one of the reasons why Baron von Korvacs had left Ilidze so abruptly was because he had been urgently needed back at his desk in the Foreign Ministry, which was in a state of outraged determination to bring Serbia to the whipping post. Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany had stoked the fires by assuring the Austrians he would support whatever actions they took against the anarchistic regime in Belgrade. Wilhelm had a particularly hostile eye for people who did not regard royal beings as sacred as divine ones.

  ‘Well, it may not come to that,’ said Maude, ‘it will depend on what reparations Serbia agrees to make.’

  The telephone rang in her office. She went to answer it. She returned to say that a lady, who would not give her name, wished to speak to James. James took the call.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘I am speaking to James?’ The voice was cool and unmistakable.

  ‘Why, Sophie, how nice. How are you, how is everyone?’

  ‘We are all alive, thank you.’ Little vibrations murmured through the coolness. ‘May I ask what has happened to you? It’s five days since you returned with us.’

  ‘I’ve been quietly sitting things out. I thought your parents needed some quietness too, I know they were in a state of shock—’

  ‘We all were. But we are still existing. You are very kind to think of us as being sensitively withdrawn from life, but you are also very cruel. I too have been sitting quietly, very quiet
ly, wondering what was happening and what I had done. You have not called once, not once. Or telephoned or sent a single note. Major Moeller has called and so has Ludwig. He and Anne are beginning to hold hands. I am not asking for my hand to be held, only wondering why I feel so alone.’

  ‘Sophie, I had to do some serious thinking, but I was intending—’

  ‘Please don’t interrupt.’ The vibrations were uppermost now. ‘I wish to tell you I’m not given to chasing after elusive or reluctant gentlemen and that I am only making this telephone enquiry because I thought the reason for your silence and absence was that you were either dying or at least desperately ill.’

  ‘My very sweet Sophie—’

  ‘As you are obviously perfectly well,’ continued the vibrations, ‘I presume you will suffer no painful physical distress in summoning a cab and getting yourself into it. And instructing the driver to bring you to this house. I will allow you one hour. Even the slowest cab should bring the most reluctant gentleman here in that time.’

  ‘I assure you, Sophie, I shall—’

  ‘You are to call on me. Now. At once. Immediately. You are a perfidious wretch and I am very unhappy.’

  The line went dead. James looked at the silent receiver, smiled and placed it back on the hook. Sophie. Nature fashioned many women in irresistible moulds, much to man’s confusion. It did not fashion too many quite as irresistible as Sophie. He had perhaps overdone things in staying away as long as this. But he had not wanted to seek a highly personal interview with the baron at a time when the assassination was still so fresh in that worried mind.

  Well, he must go and see his unhappy Sophie immediately.

  The telephone rang again as he was leaving the office. He returned to the desk.

  ‘Hello?’

  The voice came to his ear with a little desperate rush this time.

  ‘James? Oh, thank goodness you are still there. What must you think of me? I was so ungracious and have hastened madly to call you back so that you should not have too much time to think about what a dreadful person I am. Please forgive me. Only I’ve been in such a dismal state. It seemed as if you had completely disappeared from our lives, and I began to think you had forgotten all about me or that I was an ungovernable embarrassment to you.’

  ‘Ungovernable?’ Her command of his language was delicious.

  ‘Yes. I could not endure that. But I did not mean to be so dreadfully superior—’

  ‘My sweet girl, you were superb,’ said James. ‘I’ve stayed away longer than I should, I know that now, but you weren’t ungracious, no, not a bit. I’d say illuminating, rather. I was spellbound. I can listen to you for hours. I’m coming over now. Immediately. I’ve missed you. No one is quite like you. Believe me.’

  ‘James, oh, that is so good to hear. Yes, please come at once. I am like a starved woman. And you have things to say, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes. If you don’t confuse me.’

  Sophie bumped into Carl on her way upstairs to change.

  ‘Sophie?’ he said and felt distinctly relieved to see her glad smile. Sophie was a bright challenge to life and he hated seeing her down in the dumps.

  ‘I must change, James is coming,’ she said and hitched her skirts and flew.

  ‘My dear girl—’

  ‘My dear boy—’ Her voice floated and sang.

  James, thought Carl, would get a stunner, a shining light. Somewhere, perhaps, there was a stunner like Sophie belonging to another family. If so, he would like to meet her. She might take his mind off the Benz. His mother had recently made the observation that a man who was married to a motor car would not get very much out of life except fresh coats of oil.

  ‘I’ll look around,’ he had said amiably, ‘I might find a girl who’d make me a good mechanic.’

  But a stunner, with something of Sophie’s style about her, would please his mother far more and might just be more exciting than a mechanic.

  ‘James is coming, Mama.’

  ‘He’s sent a note?’

  ‘No, he spoke to me a little while ago on the telephone.’

  ‘I didn’t hear it ring.’

  ‘Well, as the call wasn’t for you its ring was not significant, and none of us can expect to hear everything when there’s always so much other listening to do, and I think you were in the garden at the time. However, it was James I spoke to—’

  ‘Darling, I haven’t been in the garden.’

  ‘– and it seems he’s only been staying away because he felt you would not want too many people coming and going at the moment. That was kind and thoughtful of him, wasn’t it?’

  ‘You didn’t think so yesterday.’

  ‘I hadn’t quite recovered from my ordeal.’

  ‘Which ordeal, darling?’

  ‘Oh, I’m better now, Mama, and am ready to receive James. Do I look suitably outfitted?’

  ‘You look very nice and fresh.’

  ‘I’d like to receive James in the library, then we shouldn’t interfere with any other comings and goings.’

  ‘I don’t think we’re quite like a railway station at any time, and you’re welcome to receive him in the morning room, if you wish.’

  ‘The library would suit James better. It has a rather attractive masculine atmosphere. He’ll be more at home there.’

  ‘More at home? Sophie, I am hopelessly mystified. Do you have an understanding with James or not?’

  ‘I have an understanding with him, I’m praying he has one with me. If you are hopelessly mystified, Mama, I am hopelessly committed. My pulse rate is alarming. And it’s no good expecting anything to develop between Ludwig and me, is it? He’s in love with Anne, you know.’

  The library, with its walls of books and its brown leather chairs, had an air of cultured quiet. Sophie in a simple white blouse and dark green skirt was very much in keeping. As James was ushered in she turned, a book in her hands, the smile on her face masking the state of her jumping nerves. James in a brown jacket and cream ducks looked splendidly casual, she thought. She hoped he would see her, in the setting of the library, as a young woman of highly desirable grace and modesty whom he would feel quite able to afford as a wife. James actually saw her in a new style of elegance but in a quieter frame.

  ‘James, you are really here?’ Her poise was one of admirable calm, considering the pulse rate. ‘I am aglow with relief.’ She put the book back on its shelf and with a sweet smile extended her hand.

  James saw through that at once. The ploy was one that dared him to take her hand and kiss it. Ludwig frequently kissed her fingertips. So did most of her admirers. Sophie was challenging him to declare himself a mere admirer or her faithful lover.

  ‘My dear Sophie,’ he said, and took her hand and kissed it. A little spark of fire flashed. ‘And my very sweet Sophie.’ He drew her into his arms, smiled into her wide-open eyes and kissed her lingeringly on the lips. That put out one fire but ignited another. Her pulse rate soared and she found it difficult to get her breath. Her anxieties and uncertainties flew. James was kissing her and in such a fashion that modesty flew too. She clung in abandoned response. Discovering her mouth he investigated it, pursued it and claimed it. Sophie closed her eyes and quite lost all breath. Was this a kiss? No, it was a sweet, imaginative communication between lovers, a beautiful meeting of long-lost lips. Five days, a whole five days. And, suddenly, all was poetry.

  ‘Oh,’ she gasped when he finally released her.

  ‘Oh?’ said James quizzically.

  ‘I am quite faint.’ But she was gloriously, breathlessly alive, her blood racing.

  ‘If you fall,’ he said, ‘I shall fall with you.’

  She could not unwind her arms but she felt herself capable of delivering a characteristic little homily. It helped her to recover herself somewhat.

  ‘James,’ she said, ‘love can be very painful, you know, when one is at the mercy of a man who doesn’t cross one’s threshold for a year. Five days is almost a year. Well, long en
ough at least to have made me grow sufferingly thin.’

  ‘Thin? It’s not apparent,’ said James, speaking from a position of telling proximity.

  She would have liked to ask him to enlarge on that remark but they were not married yet, they were not even engaged, and certain avenues of conversation were closed to them by convention. She chose a path of penitence instead.

  ‘James, I’m sorry I was so cross with you on the telephone, but I have had a bad time not seeing you, not knowing about you. I thought such depressing things, I thought perhaps I’d only imagined we had kissed and spoken together, that it was Anne you really love. You have always been so attentive to her. But you would not kiss me like that if you loved her, would you?’

  ‘I’m very fond of Anne, but I think Ludwig is her man.’

  ‘Oh, it’s a sweet relief to know you aren’t.’ She put her hands on his jacket and began twisting a button. ‘You will forgive me being so difficult and demanding, won’t you?’

  ‘Difficult?’ said James, who thought her the captivating symbol of Vienna’s enchantment.

  ‘Yes. But five days really did seem an eternity and I began to think I’d been too forward, had flung myself at you.’ She searched the button intently for possible faults, her face flushed, her lashes hiding her eyes. ‘But you see, when you made me go with Major Moeller’s servants while you stayed to wait for Ferenac and his men, I was frantic with worry and despair. I thought it was so dangerous and unnecessary after all you had done, and when you got back to us at last and I saw you – James, I couldn’t help flinging myself at you, I was so terribly happy, but if you feel—’

  ‘Sophie, you make even the little things sound monumentally striking. Will you marry me?’

  ‘—I mean, I’ve been thinking, you see, that if you don’t really feel—’ She stopped her rush of words. ‘James, what did you say?’

  ‘Will you marry me?’

  ‘Oh.’ Sophie came out of breathless agitation and emerged from hiding. Her eyes swam in the warm waters of summer lakes. ‘James?’ she said, which meant she was asking for confirmation yet again, which was no less than any woman was entitled to or would want on such an occasion.