“The focus of the Neue Pinakothek Museum is European art of the eighteenth and nineteenth century, which makes it one of the most important museums of nineteenth-century art in the world,” the professor was telling Irene, who sat on the bench across from them. The members of the tour were in two groups, and the whist club happened to have the professor in their carriage this time around.
“I can’t even pronounce any of these streets,” Irene said with a light giggle. “They’re all in German.”
“I am quite proficient,” Blanche interjected. She opened up a brochure she’d snagged from the hotel and began to read. “Das Kunstareal in München zählt mit seinen weltberühmten Museen zu den wichtigsten Kunst-und Kulturzentren Europas.”
“Oh, you always have to outdo everyone,” Irene said, her voice borderline cross.
“But no one speaks French as well as you, Irene,” Aunt Rowena hurried to say.
“Well, thank you.” Irene gave the professor an obvious wink.
Gigi wanted to groan, but Professor Haskins seemed to take everything in stride. He also effectively steered the conversation back to the museums they were about to visit. His gaze flitted to Gigi’s from time to time, and she tried not to react to their shared glances. But it was impossible not to, which made her grateful for the cooler weather to stave off any threatening blushes.
They were friends, only friends, but it was still a wonderful thing. Something she hoped never to get used to or take for granted.
As for the others . . . it was remarkable, really, what the presence of a handsome young gentleman did for the demeanor of a group of older women. Gigi knew she must count herself in the affected group because, yes, she also felt more lively when the professor was near.
Gigi hadn’t started on his jacket, and she would wait until Aunt Rowena had retired to bed tonight so that there wouldn’t be any speculation on her part.
“Goodness, would you look at that,” Aunt Rowena said, motioning with her gloved hand toward the museum square.
They’d turned onto a road leading to a series of stoic, rectangular buildings. A massive green lawn connected the buildings, making the museums appear even grander in appearance.
“Is that it, Professor?” Irene asked, grasping his arm.
“That is the place,” Professor Haskins said. “We could spend two full days here, but alas, we’ll have only one.”
Gigi gazed at the rows of windows of the Neue Pinakothek as they approached. The carriages finally slowed. Professor Haskins climbed out of their carriage first, then helped each woman down, one by one. Once Aunt Rowena was safely on her feet, Gigi handed the cane to the professor, and he gave it over to her aunt.
Gigi was the last to exit the carriage, and although she’d already steeled herself for grasping the professor’s hand as an anchor to climb out, she wasn’t prepared for the fluttering in her stomach at the physical contact. Enough, she told herself.
Outwardly, she smiled and released her hold the moment both her feet were on the ground.
But the professor didn’t step away at first.
“How are you this morning, Miss Ballard?” he asked in a lowered tone.
It was a casual question, one he might have asked in front of an entire group of people. But he hadn’t. He’d waited until they were separated from the others, who were now congregating together, so it felt more personal.
“I haven’t lost a shoe, and my hair has stayed in place.”
Professor Haskins chuckled. “You are never predictable. How can that be?”
She smiled up at him, even though she was in very grave danger of exposing how much she enjoyed his company. “And how are you, Professor Haskins?”
“I am looking forward to visiting some of my favorite museums and no longer worrying over your aunt’s list.”
Gigi tilted her head. “You are relieved then?”
“Most relieved.” His gaze held hers. “Because I do not like to establish relationships on manufactured lists.”
“How do you establish relationships then?” she asked. “I’m merely curious in case my aunt asks.”
His mouth curved into a smile, but before he could answer, someone called out.
“Professor Haskins, are you giving away museum secrets to only Miss Ballard?” It was Blanche.
Gigi was confident that comment had caught her aunt’s attention. Sure enough, her aunt had turned to look over at them, and her brows were nearly to her hairline.
“Of course not,” the professor said quickly. “My museum secrets are for all to know.” He strode toward the other women.
Gigi followed, making sure her aunt was doing all right. She’d complained of being out of breath and her legs feeling sore this morning, and Gigi had hoped the carriage ride would alleviate the soreness before they were on their feet once again in the museum.
“How are you feeling?” Gigi asked her aunt when she caught up to her and linked arms to give her aunt added support.
“Well enough.” Aunt Rowena cast her a sideways glance. “The professor sure smiles at you a lot.”
Gigi hoped to high heaven that Professor Haskins hadn’t overheard.
“We are friends, Aunt Rowena. That is all,” she said.
“The best relationships start with friendship,” her aunt mused.
“I’ve no doubt,” Gigi said. “And some relationships are best to remain as friendships. Don’t you agree?”
Aunt Rowena knew she couldn’t argue. “You are right. I should not be reading into a shared smile or a friendly conversation between the two of you. I have already made too many mistakes in this regard, and I’m determined to let you manage your life, dear Georgina.”
Gigi had heard this same sentiment the night before and could only hope that her aunt would stick to it. It was nice to know that her aunt cared so deeply for her, but would she be able to stick to it?
Gigi wasn’t sure if there was a pebble or something else in the lane as they walked the last few steps to the museum, but suddenly her aunt pitched forward.
Gigi reacted immediately but was only able to prevent her aunt from falling completely over.
Finding herself on her knees, holding her aunt up, surprised her as much as it seemed to have surprised Aunt Rowena.
“Are you all right?” Gigi said.
“I—I don’t know,” her aunt said, then moaned. “My ankle. I think I’ve twisted it.”
Gigi shifted again and wrapped an arm about her aunt’s waist to give her more support. “Let’s find a place to sit inside. Then we can examine the damage.”
Since Gigi and her aunt had been at the back of the group, the others didn’t immediately notice. But soon, they were surrounded by the entire tour group, who fussed and fretted over Aunt Rowena. Still clinging to Gigi, Aunt Rowena said, “I need to find a bench. Everyone make way.”
Well, her aunt could be decisive even when so recently injured.
Professor Haskins supported her on her other side. “I can carry you if you’d like,” he offered.
“Never you mind,” Aunt Rowena said. “I don’t want to be fussed over.”
But she looked right pleased to be fussed over, and Gigi hid a smile as she helped the hobbling woman into the museum. They sat on a bench near the main lobby, and Gigi knelt before her aunt to check her ankle and foot.
The professor knelt right next to her as if doing his own examination. There was not much Gigi could conclude without the knowledge of a doctor, and the professor looked equally perplexed.
“Shall I fetch a doctor?” he asked.
“Nonsense,” Aunt Rowena said. “The pain has diminished already. I am perfectly content to sit here.”
Gigi readjusted her aunt’s skirts as the professor rose. He extended his hand to help her up, and Gigi took it. Now wasn’t the time to think upon the feel of his hand again
st hers.
She settled next to her aunt upon the bench. “I’ll wait with you.”
“You cannot miss the artwork,” Aunt Rowena protested.
“I don’t want you left alone in case you need something,” Gigi said.
The professor hadn’t left their side and seemed intent on hovering. “I’ve been through the Neue Pinakothek more than once. I’m happy to sit with you, and Miss Ballard can accompany the others.”
“Certainly not,” Aunt Rowena said. “You are the tour director.”
He looked from Aunt Rowena to Gigi, as if he were at a loss for additional ideas.
“I will be fine right here,” Gigi said. “I assure both of you.” She offered a cheerful smile, hoping to convince the professor further.
“We will take turns,” Irene said.
“Yes,” Blanche agreed. “We will return shortly and tell you which rooms to visit.”
“All right,” Gigi said. “That’s an excellent plan.” She could feel the professor’s gaze upon her, and she simply nodded for him to join the tour members.
He hesitated, then said, “Alert a staff member if you need my help with anything.”
“We will. Thank you, Professor,” Aunt Rowena said with a flick of her hand.
Once the tour group had moved on, Aunt Rowena closed her eyes with a sigh.
“Are you sure I can’t call for a doctor?” Gigi asked in a soft voice.
“I am sure,” Aunt Rowena said. “I didn’t sleep well last night, and that likely added to my clumsiness.” She kept her eyes closed, so Gigi let her have her peace.
Surprisingly enough, her aunt did indeed nod off.
So Gigi was left to watch the comings and goings of the museum lobby. The time passed slowly, and Gigi gave up on trying to decipher the various languages spoken around her by other museum guests.
Eventually, Irene showed up with the professor.
Aunt Rowena stirred awake as Irene began to talk. “The professor will take you on a shortened tour, and I’ll sit with Rowena. Blanche is still with the others.”
Gigi hesitated, but her aunt said, “Go, dear. I’ll be fine with Irene.”
So Gigi joined the professor, feeling like she was neglecting her duty and feeling a bit warm to have this time alone with the professor even though they were in a museum full of other people.
“I found out why you looked familiar when we first met,” the professor said in a low tone as they arrived at a display of paintings.
Gigi glanced at him. “Oh?”
“Yes. It seems you have a look-alike.” He smiled and tilted his head. “Come this way.”
She walked with him into another room. Large oil paintings in ornate frames graced the walls. The painter seemed familiar. “Is this Johann Friedrich Overbeck?”
“Correct,” the professor said. He motioned toward one of the larger paintings of a young woman.
Gigi studied the painting. The woman seemed younger than Gigi, but their brown hair color was identical, as was the shape of their brown eyes. It was uncanny, really. Gigi’s lips were fuller and her jaw more angular, but there was a resemblance. Even Gigi could see it. The woman was sitting near a tree in front of a field, her chin resting on her hand.
She read the placard. Portrait of Vittoria Caldoni, 1821, by Johann Friedrich Overbeck, 1789–1869.
“You think I resemble this Vittoria Caldoni woman?”
The professor didn’t look at her, for his gaze was upon the painting. “There’s no doubt. The differences are small. It’s almost as if Overbeck used you for the model.”
“Which is impossible since this was painted in . . .” She peered at the plaque with the dates. “1821.”
The professor turned slowly to face her, his hazel gaze light, warm. “Perhaps he time-traveled?”
She laughed and nudged him. He only grinned. And then they both returned their gazes to the painting.
Neither of them spoke for a while, not until Professor Haskins said, “This has always been a favorite painting of mine. The story behind it is quite remarkable as well.”
“Oh?”
“Vittoria Caldoni was fifteen and was one of the most famous Italian models of her time. The Crown Prince Ludwig of Bavaria commissioned the painting, but the work had a mixed reception in the royal court in Munich. For you see, there is added meaning. Vittoria was the daughter of a vineyard keeper, yet in this painting, she also represents a worker in the wheat fields. What does that remind you of?”
“I can’t say,” Gigi replied.
“It was speculated that Overbeck created a Christian allegory and portrayed Ruth as sitting at the foot of this tree as a figure of the coming generations of Christ.”
“Because Christ came through her line.”
“Correct.”
Goose pimples trailed along her arms as Gigi gazed anew at the painting with greater appreciation. Overbeck had made his subject quite lovely, and there was a serene quality to her somber expression. A slow warmth was spreading through Gigi’s body as she thought of how the professor had declared this painting reminded him of her.
In order to break the headiness she was beginning to feel, she said, “Now we must find your look-alike.”
“You mean doppelgänger? We are in Munich, you know.”
Her eyes connected with his. “Right. The doppelgänger of Professor Haskins.”
“Clyde.”
She blinked.
“It’s my name: Clyde Haskins. It sounds odd finding a doppelgänger of Professor Haskins.” He winked. “Clyde Haskins seems more personal.”
“Well then.” Gigi was absolutely breathless, and she hadn’t taken one step. “Professor Clyde Haskins it is.”
He chuckled. “Where should we start?” He extended his arm for her to take, which was totally unnecessary of him, since the floor was perfectly even, but it was gentlemanly all the same.
“You tell me, Professor,” she said, slipping her hand around the crook of his arm. “You’re the expert here.”
But he didn’t start walking yet. He looked down at her, his gaze assessing. “Don’t you think we know each other well enough to use first names?”
His smile was teasing, as was his tone.
“What will my aunt think of that?” she mused. “Besides, I don’t want the tour members to assume I’m getting special privileges.”
Instead of laughing like she thought he would, he drew her a tad closer. “We wouldn’t want that. No, indeed,” he said in a quiet voice that shivered warm along her back.
ChapteR TeN
Dear Lillian,
Aunt Rowena will be perfectly fine, but I’m sure she’s already written to Mother all about spraining her ankle in Munich. Professor Haskins was very obliging and called in a doctor when we returned to the hotel. The doctor pronounced in his very formal way that Aunt Rowena was to stay off of it for an entire week. The moment he left, Aunt Rowena said she’d never met a more stuffy man in her life, and although she might rest her ankle as frequently as possible, she would not miss out on the tour.
In other news, I spent a good hour with the professor walking through some of the art rooms at Neue Pinakothek. All of them were delightful and amazing. He even compared me to the Vittoria Caldoni painting by Johann Friedrich Overbeck. I was stunned, but I can see the resemblance. Although Vittoria Caldoni is depicted as a much more lovely person. Upon consideration, I don’t think a man has ever given me such an extravagant compliment before. He asked me to call him Clyde, as a friend. And of course I rejected that notion. Yes, we are friends, but calling him by his first name somehow seems too personal . . .
“Oh, stop fussing,” Aunt Rowena said. “One more hand, and then I’ll go and rest.”
They were on their way to Vienna, and the game of whist had been going on for nearly two hours. Gigi was tired
herself. But she wasn’t going to say so around women who were several decades her senior. She’d rather return to the berth and lose herself in her sketchbook. She’d been working on a series of long coats to wear with winter evening gowns.
“Well, I’m going to rest,” Irene declared.
“Me too,” Blanche added.
“Then we’ll find another partner,” Aunt Rowena declared in a pinched tone.
She had not been in the best of moods, and Gigi attributed it to the fact that she was pretending her ankle hadn’t been sprained. Instead, she was doing too much too soon. “Good evening, sirs,” Aunt Rowena said, turning to look at the gentlemen at another table. The professor was wearing his altered jacket tonight, and every time Gigi had caught sight of him, she felt a smile pressing through.
“Would you care to join us in a game of whist?” Aunt Rowena continued.
Gigi bit back her protest. Nicholas and Professor Haskins seemed to be in a deep conversation, but there was no ignoring Aunt Rowena.
Both men looked over.
“Vhist?” Nicholas said. “I would be happy to make an attempt. I don’t profess much skill in playing zeh game.”
Aunt Rowena only smiled. “Surely a man who knows as many languages as you will have no trouble.”
Nicholas’s dark brow arched, and Gigi knew he was intrigued.
And how did her aunt know how many languages the man spoke?
“What about you, Professor?” Aunt Rowena persisted. “We need four to make teams of two.”
“Very well,” the professor said.
“Come sit by me,” Aunt Rowena told Gigi, patting the seat next to her.
Gigi obliged, and the two men sat across from them. The professor was directly across from Gigi. In order to save her own blushes, she should try not to meet his gaze too much.
Aunt Rowena gave Nicholas a quick explanation of the game, and once they were through one hand, she declared, “You’re a natural, sir.”
Nicholas tilted his head, then brought his pipe to his mouth and inhaled. Then exhaled. No smoke came out, but Gigi was almost certain she could smell the scent of German pastries coming from the pipe.
Until Vienna (Romance on the Orient Express) Page 7