Love in High Places

by Jane Beaufort

  The Baron swore softly beneath his breath, and when Lou joined him and slid her arm through his he was not in any mood for gestures of the sort.

  The Countess had fallen asleep in the main salon when Valentine and her escort returned to it, and Giles was thoughtfully smoking a cigarette and regarding the chess pieces. When the Count asked him politely if he had won he shook his head ruefully and admitted that his hostess had practically wiped him off the board.

  “Ah, my friend, it is always so,” the Count assured him complacently. “The Countess never allows herself to be beaten, and that is a policy which governs all her affairs. A remarkable woman!” He shook his head in awed admiration. “I am proud to have known her so long!”

  “She must be very fearless,” Giles remarked, gazing at the nodding white head of the diminutive old lady also in a kind of awe. “You have known her many years?”

  “Many years,” the Count replied. “And I would not do battle with her under any circumstances. Once her mind is made up she always wins!”

  “Poor Alex,” Valentine thought swiftly, involuntarily—and the pity was in spite of the embarrassment he had caused her a few minutes ago, “if she has made up her mind not to help him financially until she is dead then there is little he can do about it! Except marry Lou!”

  The Count excused himself soon after that, and collected a candlestick from a great table in the hall, lighted it, and made his way up the shadowy staircase to his room in a distant wing. Valentine watched him go, and wondered how she and Lou were going to feel with nothing but the fitful beams of a candle to show them the immense proportions of their bedrooms. She also wondered whether she ought to wait for Lou, or whether she should precede her up the staircase and go to bed first, and she was still trying to make up her mind when Haversham invited her to have a look at the stars from the enormous window at the far end of the apartment.

  “You’ll never again in the whole of your lifetime see stars as bright as they are to-night,” he said, as he caught her by the hand and led her down the length of the room. “There!” He drew aside the mouldering velvet curtains and indicated them. “Aren’t they wonderful? Something to remember when you get home to England!”

  For an instant Valentine felt a chill, like a cold breath. Get home to England! ... But there was no home for her in England, and her heart would always be here in Austria. That was a dreadful thought... That when she left Austria she would be leaving a vital part of her behind! Here in this schloss a vital part of her would live on, because it was Alex’s schloss! And wherever Alex went ... even once he was married to Lou! ... he would carry something of her, Valentine, about with him. Something she had parted with unwillingly, but which she could never recover!

  Haversham turned to her, as they stood in the denseness of the shadows, far removed from the branching candelabra and the fitful beams of the fire, and he spoke quietly.

  “Valentine, I told you there was something you ought to know ... Something that happened to me when I was in Vienna. Perhaps you can explain it?”

  She gazed up at him curiously.

  “You told me you’re an orphan ... That’s true, isn’t it?”

  “Quite true.”

  “You also told me you’re without relatives ... But that isn’t strictly true, is it?”

  “What do you mean?” For an instant there was a cold note in her voice, and then he could tell he had shaken her.

  “You have a grandfather, haven’t you? ... Alive! He’s a tall old gentleman, with very white hair and bristling moustachios, and your eyes! As soon as I looked into them I thought of you! I couldn’t have done anything else!”

  “Where did you meet him?” she asked, and although her voice was no longer cold she sounded unusually stiff.

  “I told you, in Vienna. He was staying at the same hotel as I was—an old-fashioned family hotel with a lot of plush and mirrors; the sort of place his kind patronised years ago, and will continue to patronise—and he was introduced to me by the business acquaintance I went there to meet. Actually, it’s the chap who’s undertaking the translation of some of my books, and he’s also interested in military history. Your grandfather, General Fabian, is an expert on certain phases of the last two wars.”

  Valentine looked down at her hands.

  “Well?”

  “Quite apart from that he’s a very rich man, head of a shipping line ... the Fabian Line. Yet his granddaughter is forced to accept a job that isn’t merely beneath her; it’s a detestable sort of job when one is forced to be a looker-on and see how constantly and casually she’s made use of!” he concluded softly.

  Valentine made an impatient movement with her head, but her hands were clasped tightly together, and the nails dug into the soft palms.

  “I wish you wouldn’t talk of my job as beneath me,” she said quickly, and in a very low tone as if she were afraid of awakening the Countess, and even more afraid that she would overhear any part of their conversation. “It’s a job that suits me, and I’m grateful for it. It has provided me with a beautiful obscurity that I needed—badly!—a few months ago.”

  “But your grandfather...” he persisted.

  “I don’t want to talk about my grandfather,” she said agitatedly.

  “Then you’re not denying that General Fabian is your grandfather?”

  She put back her head and looked up at him with extraordinarily luminous, and slightly defiant, eyes.

  “No. Why should I? My mother was his daughter, and I’m the only daughter of my mother ... her only child. But my father and I...” Then she broke off. “But how, if you only discussed war history with General Fabian, did you find out that he was a relative of mine? You couldn’t have deduced all that simply because his eyes are the same colour as mine, and I’m a bit like him ... Which, incidentally, I deny! I’m a Pelham-Brown,” she said on an odd note of obstinacy, and she seemed to draw her slight figure up rather proudly.

  “Yet you allow yourself to be known as plain Miss Brown,” Haversham said, shaking his head at her disapprovingly. Yet his grey eyes were gentle and full of sympathy for the stubborn burdens she carried on her shoulders ... largely, he began to suspect, because it had been the wish of her father. “I’ll tell you the truth, Valentine,” he said. “And although it may sound unbelievable, it is the truth. Your grandfather and I discussed other subjects apart from war history—we had a long and mutually agreeable talk which went on into the small hours of the morning. And in the course of conversation I mentioned the part of England where I live, and where your grandfather once lived, also. Quite casually he let drop the name of his wife, Valentine. She’s been dead for years, but she was very fond of the river, and his daughter—another Valentine—was married in a little period gem of a church between Henley and Oxford!”

  Once again Valentine said, “Well?” But this time her voice was definitely husky.

  Haversham spoke with great gentleness.

  “I asked him if his daughter became Lady Pelham-Brown, and then, I’m afraid, I heard the full story. It seems that there was a great deal of bitterness between your father and your grandfather...”

  Valentine nodded her head, dumbly.

  “And it didn’t improve as time went on. Your father was a great—spender ... But unfortunately he didn’t believe in doing anything to earn money! He wouldn’t even consider a comfortably cushioned job such as your grandfather could have found for him, and it was your mother’s money that provided all the luxuries. When she died—the money died with her.”

  “I know,” Valentine said, as if the whole subject were hateful to her.

  “But you need never have gone without, Valentine...” Haversham emphasised. “General Fabian would have provided you with all that you needed—and more!—but your pride got in the way, and you wouldn’t let him do a thing! You ran out on him, hid yourself—or tried to hide yourself—and your identity, and that’s why you’re where you are at this minute ... looking after someone like Lou Morgan. Who pro
vides you with her cast-offs!”

  Valentine bit so hard at her lower lip that a trickle of blood started.

  “I loved my father,” she said fiercely, resentfully, “and although he was weak, that didn’t make me love him any the less! He would be alive to-day but for my grandfather ... who cut off the money when he needed it most. Needed it to settle a mountain of debts. It was because he couldn’t look his creditors in the face that he took those sleeping tablets...” She bit her lip harder than ever. “I never want to see my grandfather again! I couldn’t ever forgive him ... ever!”

  “He knows where you are, Valentine,” Haversham told her, capturing both her hands and holding them tightly, as if to give her courage, support. “I told him.”

  She looked up at him with accusing golden eyes.

  “But what right had you to do that? You hadn’t the smallest right!”

  “I know.” His grave, good-looking face looked slightly abashed. “But I had to, Valentine! I had to!”

  She looked violently disturbed.

  “You don’t think he’ll come here? You don’t think—?”

  “He might try to get in touch with you, my dear,” Haversham warned her slowly, “because he wants to very badly, and he happens to be rather a close friend—a life-long friend—of the Countess of Hultz-Reisen!”

  “Oh, no!” Valentine whispered, and they both looked towards the sleeping Countess, who, by this time, would need a great deal of rousing if she was to sleep in her bed that night.

  Footsteps sounded on the flagged floor of the hall, and the door of the salon was pushed open, and the Baron and Lou made their reappearance. Lou was looking sulky, Valentine thought, and Alex was once more looking distinctly grim. He glanced swiftly towards the end of the room where the two were still standing who had been discussing a matter which had caused them both to look extremely serious, and if anything the grimness became more noticeable ... particularly when Valentine made a sudden, half-guilty movement to free her hands from the novelist’s clasp.

  “It’s late,” Alex observed, a look of cold hauteur making his face seem dark and forbidding. “I suggest that we all retire to bed.”

  “I should like very much to go to bed,” Valentine said eagerly, moving away from the huge window that framed so many brilliant stars. Her glance went towards Lou, but somehow the Baron intercepted it, and the blaze of reproof in his eyes took her aback. “I—I have only been waiting for Lou...”

  “There was no need to wait for me,” Lou said snappishly. “I like to go to bed when I feel like it, and not before.” She shivered ostentatiously as she moved closer to the fire. “However, I’m cold, and I shall be glad to get to bed!”

  The Baron ignored her.

  “There are candles for each of you on the table in the hall,” he said, the disdain of his look plainly indicating that he had no intention of apologising further for the lack of civilised amenities. “I hope you will sleep well!”

  Lou sent him a fluttering look from under her long eyelashes.

  “But what about your grandmother?” she asked. “Who attends to her?”

  “That is one of Helga’s duties,” Alex replied remotely, “and Germaine will see her upstairs to her room.” He tugged on the bellrope to summon Germaine, who had absented herself all evening. “And now may I once again wish you all a very good night?” bowing elaborately from the waist, as a polite and courteous host—master of a schloss—should. “If there is anything you need Helga will do her best to supply it.”

  “What I would like is someone to accompany me along those gloomy upstairs corridors,” Lou informed him, with a sudden touch of appeal in her voice. She had deliberately allowed Valentine to collect her candle, and, with Haversham going ahead, start up the stairs, and now that they were as good as alone again she sent the Baron an imploring look. In any other mood he might have melted, for her eyes were very big and blue and faintly injured. “It’s not really very late, Alex! Couldn’t we sit down here for a little longer ... Just you and I?”

  “I think you are inclined to overlook my grandmother,” he replied crisply. “And when she awakens I wish to have a talk with her. Good night, Lou.”

  “Good night, honey,” she replied a little defeatedly, but it was not her slim back that the Baron watched as she ascended the stairs. It was Valentine’s shadowy black back that was nearing the top of the stairs.

  CHAPTER TEN

  In the morning Valentine made friends with Germaine, and also with the Countess’s trio of dogs, Anatole, Grizel and Trudi.

  She encountered them all four in the courtyard, which she decided to explore before breakfast, and they were coming under the arch as she herself was descending the flight of steps which led down from the great front door. She had slept well and, warmly wrapped up, was delighted to be out in the sunshine and the clear cold of the morning, and while Lou remained huddled in her huge four-poster bed, and Helga knelt in front of her fire trying to coax it into a blaze, Valentine was formally presented to the dogs, who each lifted a paw and allowed her to shake it.

  “They don’t mind the snow?” she said, in some surprise, to Germaine. “They are such little dogs that I would have thought they would hate it.”

  “On the contrary, they adore it,” Germaine assured her. She picked up Anatole and tucked him under her arm. “This one is very old... a great-great-grandfather. But Grizel and Trudi are young things still. Anatole has to be taken great care of in case he develops rheumatism, and that is why I must now take him inside and dry him,” she explained very carefully, in her precise English. “So you will forgive me, Miss Brown, if I leave you?”

  “Oh, but I’d love to come and help you dry all three of them,” Valentine replied. She had already sensed—in fact, immediately sensed—that Germaine was almost painfully shy, and she had a feeling that she wanted to get to know her better. “May I?”

  “Of course, if you wish,” Germaine replied to that, and within a matter of minutes the two girls were chatting animatedly in a mixture of German and English, while the short-legged sturdy little dogs were given a thorough rub down and protected from the dangers of rheumatism. The rubbing down took place in a corner of the hall, and it was while Germaine was complimenting Valentine on her excellent accent when she was not speaking her mother tongue, and Valentine was about to return the compliment, that Giles Haversham made his first appearance of the day and greeted them both quite gaily.

  “Good morning, Fraulein,” he said to the Austrian girl, who instantly blushed a deep, fiery red. “I see you are an early riser.” He smiled at Valentine. “And I know Miss Brown never takes things easily.”

  He looked at her meaningly, and she knew he was thinking of their conversation the night before. It had been interrupted, but she felt sure he would return to it at the earliest opportunity. And, as for herself, she was appalled because—in spite of taking every possible precaution—she might be run to earth at any moment by her grandfather. And that would create a fresh set of problems for she knew her grandfather well enough to be certain he wouldn’t allow her to continue in her present position. He was a fiery old man, difficult to stand up against, even more determined than she could be herself sometimes ... And there was the problem of explaining away a piece of deception that would hardly appeal to Lou at all, but which the Countess of Hultz-Reisen might find a little intriguing.

  Valentine had a curious conviction that the Countess would find it intriguing.

  And then she found herself wondering, almost irrelevantly, what Alex von Felden would think of it. He imagined he knew all there was to know about her, but he did not know she was the only grandchild of a very wealthy old man.

  An old man who would one day leave her the bulk of his money, and although she had made up her mind—as a gesture of loyalty to her father—to refuse it—there was a strange sort of fascination in dwelling on the possible reactions of a young man in love with her (just a little, perhaps!) and in need of a rich wife.

  H
e was not in love with Lou ... She knew that. Somehow she didn’t believe that he even admired Lou very much, and that made the fact that he was willing to marry her so very horrible. But if he discovered that Valentine, in addition to appealing to him—physically—could solve as many of his problems as Lou could, and prevent him from worrying about finance in the future...

  The thought of his possible (and most likely) reaction was so distasteful to Valentine that it even made her feel a trifle sick. It was true that, for one wild moment the night before, while she had sat at dinner with him, she had yearned to be able to endow him with everything he desired. But to think that he might be willing to marry her in order that she should do that very thing was another matter altogether. Especially in the daylight ... In the cold light of morning!

  At breakfast Germaine and Haversham hit upon a number of topics that made it possible for them to carry on quite an enthusiastic conversation while Valentine remained mentally aloof and dealt with her own problems in secret. But when Alex joined them the problems had to be shelved, especially as it was she beside whom he sat down, and to whom he determinedly started to talk. He asked her if she had slept well the night before, and she had to admit that she had. He asked her—much more dryly—whether Lou was still sleeping, and she had to admit that, when last seen, the American heiress was hiding her head like an ostrich, and not even the promise of a really hot bath and a tray of piping hot coffee and rolls could bring her out from under the bedcovers.