Madame Guioni declared, “I have never been near Vatican City and I never intend to go there!”
The fat priest smiled mildly. “I’m sure you’ve been missed, madame. But then the Church has always had its setbacks.”
Henry, who had been saying nothing, now looked at Della and said, “I have to go forward to the dining car to see about our dining arrangements. Would you like to come with me and get a little exercise?”
She jumped at the opportunity to be out of the tense atmosphere of the compartment. “Yes, I should like that,” she said.
Henry stood up, “Then let us leave at once.”
Della leaned over to Aunt Isobel who continued to stare out the window and ignore the others in the compartment. She said loudly enough for the older woman to hear, “We’re moving on to the dining room to make arrangements. We’ll be back shortly.”
Aunt Isobel nodded bleakly and went back to her window. The train was moving fast and swaying a good deal, so Henry and Della had to brace themselves by placing hands against the walls of the train passage.
When they were alone a little distance from the compartment, Henry turned to her with a smile. “I had to get out for a little!”
Braced against the inner wall, she laughed, “I know how you feel. Isn’t that Madame Guioni awful?”
“Worst I’ve ever encountered. Makes me wince to think she is an Englishwoman. No manners at all.”
“And the priest seems to bring out the worst in her!”
“She’s a natural bigot! Has no respect for her servant or the country she lives in,” Henry agreed bitterly. “And I doubt if her husband meant much to her beyond being a source of money.”
“Aunt Isobel is in a rage and the madame is mostly to blame,” Della worried. “I’m afraid it is going to be a difficult journey.”
“Every passing minute gets us closer to the end of it,” Henry said, trying to comfort her.
“And we’ll be dining and in the sleeping area part of the time!”
“Which may save our sanity,” he said.
“We must try and get Father Anthony’s address in Rome,” she said. “He could be very helpful to us as a guide!”
“And don’t accept any invitations to Madame Guioni’s,” the young man warned her. “I don’t want ever to see her again after we get off the train.”
Della laughed, “Don’t count on it! She knows we will be at the palace of Prince Sanzio!”
Henry groaned. “I’d forgotten that.”
“But we can always be busy.”
“We must,” he said. “I can’t endure the woman!”
They went on to the dining car and found the headwaiter. A suitably large tip from Henry assured all three of them an excellent table with a good window view. And after finding out the hours of seatings they made their way to the sleeping car and checked where their bunks would be. Della’s was directly above her aunt’s at the end of the car and Henry’s was across from her. This made her feel more secure. He would be no more than an aisle away in case of an emergency.
On their way back along the rocking, noisy corridor they halted to embrace. Henry held her in his arms for a longer while than usual and she found the security of being pressed to him most satisfying. She no longer doubted that she loved this rather precise young lawyer. And she only wished that this business of seeking out her long-lost sister would soon be at an end and they could return to England and be married.
Henry must have been thinking the same sort of thoughts, for after his lips stopped caressing her, he said worriedly, “I wish we were going home instead of going to Rome!”
She smiled ruefully. “This has to be attended to first.”
His arms around her, he said, “I keep worrying about you. After all that has happened I don’t like you to be out of my sight for a moment.”
“I’m sure nothing will happen.”
“You keep saying that and yet things continue to come along and threaten you,” he said. “I heard you mention the jeweled Madonna to Father Anthony.”
“Without much reaction from him.”
Henry frowned. “According to him there are a lot of them. I’ve always thought the talk about a stolen Madonna was a cover-up for the real business of killing you so this supposed sister in Rome can inherit your fortune.”
“You’re taking that line from Sir Roger.”
“It’s the logical motive,” he told her. “And you must never forget that.”
“I’ve been duly warned,” she said with a smile. “We’d better get back to the compartment or Aunt Isobel will have a fit.”
When they reached the compartment they found that Madame Guioni and her maid had also gone off somewhere and the fat priest was sitting with his head bowed in sleep. Aunt Isobel greeted them with a look of reproach.
“You were gone long enough,” she told them.
“It took a while to find the waiter and get things properly arranged,” Henry explained.
“We’d better have a good table,” Aunt Isobel said.
“We will,” Della assured her.
And they did. When their seating time came they were shown to the table Henry had picked out. Aunt Isobel was favorably impressed by the elegant dining car with its white-clothed tables and excellent waiter service. She smiled for the first time during the journey.
“I think I shall enjoy having my meals,” she said.
“This is the best table in the car,” Della told her. “And you can thank Henry for getting it.”
Aunt Isobel said, “That is why Henry is with us. To protect us and to see we get the best. Isn’t that right, young man?”
He smiled agreeably. “Those were my instructions from Sir Roger.”
Her aunt sighed across the table. “I must say I feel you could have managed the compartment better.”
“The train is heavily booked and for a long way ahead,” Henry said.
“But surely we could have found more agreeable people to share it with?” Aunt Isobel complained.
“We have no choice in the matter,” Della told her.
“That is evident,” the older woman said grimly. “That Madame Guioni is the most dreadful creature! Her ugly face and overbearing manner, and that deep voice so used to ordering people about!”
Della said, “I’m sure her maid hates her.”
“And remains asleep in self-defense,” Henry laughed.
“She was miserable to that poor priest,” Aunt Isobel went on. “Though I must admit he had the wit to parry with her and win most of the time!”
An excellent six-course dinner with wine put them all in a relaxed, pleasant mood. Aunt Isobel forgot her complaints and even began to speak hopefully of Italy. It was amazing what a good meal could do, Della decided.
They returned to the compartment for a short time before going to bed in the sleeping car. Madame Guioni and Father Anthony had also returned following dinner, but the maid, Rosa, was nowhere in sight.
Madame Guioni explained her absence: “I spoke with the railway conductor and was able to get her an empty seat in second class. He is refunding the difference in fare to me.”
Della said, “I should think the convenience of having her with you would have been worth some extra money.”
The coarse face of Madame Guioni showed a petulant look. She said, “The woman is a peasant! Useful enough in my home but a difficult traveling companion!”
Since none of them could imagine a more difficult traveling companion than Madame Guioni herself, this led to a long silence.
Then Father Anthony smiled at Della and asked her, “Is the purpose of your journey merely to see the beauty of Rome?”
“No,” she said. “I have personal business with the Prince Sanzio.”
“Ah,” the fat man said approvingly. “Then all the wonders of the city will be a bonus! How fortunate you will be!”
“I hope we may see you when we reach the city,” she said. “I’m sure there are many wonders you could point out t
o us that we might otherwise miss.”
Father Anthony took out another cigar and went about lighting it. He said, “I shall have to report to the Papal officer whom I serve. But when my business with him is completed I shall have a few days. I’d be glad to spend part of them showing you around.”
She said, “Thank you! You can always reach us at Prince Sanzio’s palace.”
“I shall write that down,” the priest said and did so. Then he sat back puffing contentedly on his cigar.
Madame Guioni sat glaring at him for a few minutes. Then she jumped up and exclaimed, “I’m going to bed. Better to be there sleepless than to sit here and be asphyxiated by cigar smoke!” And she marched out.
Father Anthony removed the cigar from his mouth. “Am I annoying any of the rest of you?”
Aunt Isobel quite surprisingly said, “It is a fine cigar and I rather like its smoke. Continue, Father.”
Della smiled and added, “I think that is true for all of us.”
The fat priest said, “Then I shall continue to enjoy myself.”
Della had an idea her aunt had only been so agreeable because it gave her a chance to disagree with the dreadful Madame Guioni. The two had at once become antagonists without any campaign being declared.
After a while Della saw both Aunt Isobel and Father Anthony nodding in light sleep. Then the plump priest rose and excused himself and announced he was also ready to retire. Goodnights were said and he went to the sleeping car.
Henry told her, “I’m going out to the end of the car. I want to stand on the platform and get some fresh air before going to bed.”
“Go ahead,” she said. “I shall be quite safe here with Aunt Isobel.”
He stood up uncertainly and said, “You promise me you won’t leave the compartment.”
“No. I shall be right here,” she said.
“I won’t be long,” he told her. He opened the door and made his way along the corridor until he was out of sight.
When the black curtain of night had fallen Aunt Isobel pulled down the blind at her window. She now rested her head back on the high seat and stared across at Della.
The old woman said, “I shall count the hours until we are back in London.”
“You’ll count a good many,” Della warned her. “We’ve only started on our journey.”
“It’s a mistake!” Aunt Isobel sighed, returning to a familiar complaint.
“I think you should go to bed, you look worn out,” Della said. “I’ll accompany you in to your sleeping section.”
“You promised Henry you wouldn’t leave here!”
“So I did!”
Aunt Isobel struggled to her feet. “I can manage very well on my own. I have my ticket to give to the porter.”
“Make sure,” Della said.
“See!” Her aunt took it triumphantly out of her pocketbook. “I’m not all as senile as you seem to think!”
She smiled. “I don’t think any such thing.” And she rose to kiss her aunt and see her on her way.
At the compartment door, Aunt Isobel told her, “You go back and sit down. I don’t want you to move until Henry returns.”
“I won’t,” Della promised, sitting down again.
Now she was alone in the compartment. There was just a slight smell of stale tobacco smoke still in the air to remind her of Father Anthony. She felt she might learn more about the jeweled Madonna if she had a chance to question him further. He had held a responsible post in one of the Vatican museums and so probably knew any of the really valuable Madonnas by description.
She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to relax, but for some unknown reason she could not. Tension rose in her and she became restless. Being alone in the compartment late at night was not all that pleasant an experience. She began to wish that Henry would soon put in an appearance.
A uniformed trainman came by and poked his head in the door to inquire in French, “Does Mademoiselle not have a sleeping berth?”
“I have,” she explained. “I’m waiting for a friend to return to say goodnight.”
The trainman smiled knowingly. “Very well, mademoiselle, it is your choice. I merely wished to be of help if I might.”
“Thank you,” she said. And the trainman went on.
She sat back, nervously thinking that Henry had been gone far too long. Then she began truly to worry. Could something have happened to him? Was it possible that he’d had some sort of accident? The thought of this made her tremble! And she became angry at herself for not going with him.
There were open platforms at the juncture of some of the cars and he had sought out one of these. But such places could be dangerous with the swaying of the train. They were not lighted and were fairly narrow with steps descending on either side of them. A natural setting for an accident of some sort.
She became so alarmed she stood up, bracing herself against the swaying of the speeding train by placing a hand on the top of the seat. Just as she did so she was relieved to see the figure of Henry come into view in the corridor. He came to the door of the compartment and entered. The moment she saw his ashen face she knew something had happened.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, going to him.
He took her by the arms and said in a taut voice, “I’m lucky to be alive! To be here with you now!”
“What do you mean?” she cried. “Tell me?”
“I went out to the open platform,” Henry said. “I enjoyed the cool wind and was astonished at the train’s speed! We’re really moving along! I decided to take a step down and support myself by holding onto the railing on either side of the steps.”
“And?”
“I’d barely stepped down when I was given an almighty shove by someone! I lost hold of the railing with my left hand and someone cracked my knuckles as I clung on with my right!”
“Oh no!” she said in alarm, aware that they were not finished with the menace yet.
“I turned to see who my unknown assailant was and before I could manage it, I was struck on the back of the head by someone’s iron fist. I nearly lost hold altogether. My right hand slid down the rail and I ended crouching on the last step just a few feet from falling off the speeding train!”
“Then what?”
“I heard someone call out from the platform,” Henry said. “A moment later hands helped me back up and I found myself facing an irate trainman and receiving a safety lecture!”
“Did you tell him what happened? That someone had tried to force you off the train?”
“I made an attempt, but it didn’t impress him. His view was that another idiot Englishman had stumbled from the platform and almost lost his life!”
Her eyes were wide with fear. “But someone did try to take your life!”
“Nothing is more sure than that!”
“You must report it to the conductor!”
“It’s already been done,” he said grimly. “The trainman took me to him. I could tell by the way they reacted that they considered it all my own fault. And they insisted I had no right to be out there by myself.”
“It was unwise,” she said.
“Not under normal circumstances.”
“These are not normal circumstances,” was her bitter reply. “You should know that.”
“I’ve been reminded of it.”
Della gave him a worried look. “I was beginning to have a funny feeling. A sense of danger without knowing exactly what it might be.”
“All the other attacks have been directly against you,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
“From now on be prepared,” she warned him.
“I will be.”
“You are protecting me. So you stand between them and me. After they settle with you they’ll go for me next!”
“Pleasant thought!”
“It seemed we’d at least be safe on the train.”
“Forget that,” he said.
“I know,” Della said. “So we have an enemy on board. I
wonder who?”
“We’re not liable to find that out unless we’re terribly lucky,” the young lawyer said.
Della shuddered. “I don’t think I can go in there and sleep!”
“You must,” he said. “You have to have your rest and you should be safer in there than here. There is a porter on duty all night.”
“And you’ll be directly across the aisle from me,” she said.
“Yes.”
She looked up into his eyes. “I don’t know what I would have done if they’d killed you!”
“They didn’t,” he said with a wan smile and kissed her. “Now come along before there are more problems.”
Della was in no mood to stand there continuing the discussion. She let him escort her to her upper bunk and they bade each other goodnight. She knew she needed sleep badly but worried that it mightn’t come.
After what seemed an interminable time she finally drifted off. But her sleep was broken by a series of terrifying dreams. She suffered the ordeal of her rape again, down to the last dreadful, cruel detail. And she saw the wild eyes of her attacker and felt his iron grip as he handled her like a cloth doll.
She swallowed in her sleep and opened her eyes as she came partly awake to feel a growing pressure on her throat. Panic swept through her as she gradually came to understand that a hairy hand had pushed through the drawn curtains of her sleeping berth and was now firmly holding her throat!
She could see nothing! The berth was in utter darkness! But in her ear there came a hissed whisper, “The Madonna! What did you do with it? Is it in your luggage or back in England?”
“Please!” she strained to breathe as the hand tightened on her neck.
“Where is it?”
“Don’t know!” she croaked in a low whisper.
The hand cruelly increased its pressure. “You are lying! Little fool!”
Her attacker overplayed his role, for she could stand no more. At that moment she blacked out into a faint. And when she came to her forehead was drenched in perspiration and her throat hurt. But the menacing hand was no longer there throttling her.
Vintage Love Page 70