Winter Sunlight

by Susan Alexander

  'Just a moment.' It was Max.

  She stopped but didn't turn.

  'Did you say pack?' he demanded.

  'Yes, darling. I've asked her to leave.' Sophie turned to see Dorothea put her hand affectionately on his arm, her face turned up to him. 'I don't want her near the children. Some of the things that have been going on… I'll tell you later.'

  'I see,' he said flatly. 'Is Nanny Elisabeth arriving today, then, to take charge?'

  'Well, no, she's not quite well yet, but Lisl can take care of the children till she arrives.'

  He turned to look down at her. 'I'm afraid that won't be possible, my dear,' he said smoothly. 'Lisl will have her hands full with this party tomorrow night.'

  'But we can get extra help, can't we?' she coaxed him, smiling provocatively into his eyes.

  'That I have done,' he explained, 'but Lisl will be supervising all the arrangements and there's a lot to do. We haven't given them a great deal of notice, you'll recall.'

  His look down into her face was not that of a lover, and Sophie wondered that the woman didn't quail at the hard, implacable face.

  'Very well,' said Dorothea at last, 'whatever you think best. Don't be angry with me, Max,' she pleaded tearfully. 'You know how miserable it makes me.'

  Sophie turned her head away as she heard Max's voice.

  'I don't wish to upset you, my dear,' he said, 'but we have to face facts. I believe Miss Carter is leaving us in any case at the weekend. By then Lisl will have the time to take over in case Nanny isn't with us yet.'

  Sophie broke into this explanation.

  'So what do you wish me to do?' she asked woodenly.

  'I would be grateful if you stayed for the next days as planned,' he said formally.

  'Grateful?' The other woman was incredulous. 'You seem to forget you're speaking to a servant!'

  'Thank you, Miss Carter.'

  Sophie heard the anger in his voice, but knew it wasn't directed at her. As she closed the door behind her the voices continued in the room she'd left. She breathed in deeply before making her way upstairs, walking slowly to let her agitation subside.

  She wasn't sure if she was pleased at Max's intervention. Staying in this house was becoming more difficult each day since he had returned, and it might have been better to leave right away, not to see him again.

  Why had he come back? she wondered again. Was it to escort the beautiful woman downstairs? Did they have an understanding now that she was no longer his cousin's wife? And did he plan to marry her? What then of the feelings he had professed for her up in the mountains the day of the avalanche? Had that been merely a passing desire, or a brief infatuation which died when she refused him?

  Restlessly she walked up and down in her room. Would her feelings also die a natural death once she returned to the familiarity of London? Or would her emotions remain to torment her with what might have been? She didn't know the answer, and hadn't the will to analyse her feelings as she did so often. There would be time enough when she was back home to measure her pain and loss.

  Standing by the window, she looked out at the snow. The sun was sinking fast, as it did in the winter months, throwing deep shadows across the town below, and bringing the cold of winter into the narrow streets. Distantly she could hear bells tinkling as the cows came down from milking to head back to their warm, straw-filled stables.

  For her, Kitzbühl would never be the same. She had loved it in the past and had enjoyed coming back each winter. But she would not return. Her next skiing holiday would be in the Italian Alps, far away from the Hahnenkamm with its many painful memories.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The children were restless and irritable. Preparations for the party had been in progress all day and the excitement affected everyone. Even the dogs were whining, sensitive to the highly charged atmosphere.

  'Stand still, Erika,' protested Sophie. 'How can I tie this if you keep twisting?'

  They were to go down early in the evening to spend an hour at the party, a treat that had been wrung reluctantly from their mother. Emil was nervous and flushed with excitement. Since their talk the previous day, he had been more relaxed, although the return of his father had sent him for a while into a frenzy of anxiety. The fear of his father's hurt seemed to touch him as though it was his own.

  During the afternoon Sophie had been relieved to have a couple of hours free and decided to go out. Changing into boots and her suede sheepskin coat, she had let herself out of the house, eager to enjoy an hour away from the villa among the crowds that thronged the cafes and shops. She had walked briskly, watching the lights of the ski lift as the chairs moved slowly, taking up the last of the skiers, the ones who were prepared to risk a descent in the half dark.

  In town the roads were slippery, the snow melting under the imprint of chain-protected tyres and the boots of tourists trudging wearily back to their hotels after a day's skiing. She chose a large, fashionable cafe, its tables outside now empty, and sat inside near the window to watch the town gradually moving into evening, lights springing up as hotels prepared for the festivities ahead.

  Sipping the steaming coffee with its topping of cream, she began to relax. The cafe was crowded, waitresses in black, their small white aprons flapping, huge trays held high as they moved expertly among the tables and the noise of clamouring customers. Sophie opened the London paper she had bought and scanned the news.

  'Ist dieser Platz frei?'

  She looked up to see a young man waiting for her consent to sit at the table.

  She nodded. 'Ja, bitte.'

  'You're English,' he said as he sat down.

  'That's right.'

  'My luck must be in,' he grinned. 'I've been in this Godforsaken place for a week with not a soul to talk to.'

  'That must be a record,' she replied. 'People to talk to here are two a penny. One morning in the ski school and you'd have met a dozen.'

  'Oh, sure,' he looked sheepish, 'but I'm—I don't go to ski school. I'm a competition skier. I go on my own.'

  'I'm impressed,' she responded lightly.

  'Listen, can I buy you a—whatever you're having, and talk to you for a minute?'

  Sophie hesitated. She was really out to enjoy some privacy, but he was regarding her with such melting charm from twinkling blue eyes that she found herself laughing and saying yes.

  'I'm in terrible trouble,' he began without preamble.

  'You look pretty cheerful about it,' she commented.

  'Yeah, well, I don't really know much about women…'

  'Woman trouble?'

  'Mm…' He paused, his face serious, his hands clasped on the table. 'My girl back home—I'm from Toronto—we had a Godawful row.' He sighed. 'After this season I want to go professional, and that means a nomadic life.' He smiled faintly. 'We plan to marry in the spring, but all she can think about is a house and furniture—and babies.'

  'That's pretty normal.'

  'I know that. And I want it too, but not yet. She's only nineteen. Why can't she wait?'

  'Well, why can't she? Have you asked her?'

  'Family,' he said cryptically. 'She won't leave her folks. Wants a house in the same road, for God's sake!' He sighed. 'I'm pretty easy going, but she has to grow up.'

  'So what happened?' asked Sophie gently. 'Did you just walk out on her?'

  He nodded, a slight flush rising under his tan.

  'I… I gave her an ultimatum,' he admitted sheepishly.

  'Oh.' Sophie considered his words. 'I think I'd have been livid,' she said softly. 'In fact I think I'd have flung your ring back.'

  'You would?' He stared in astonishment. 'That's exactly what she did!'

  Sophie smiled faintly. 'So you took her in your arms, told her how much you love her and that anything she wanted was all right with you.'

  There was a moment's silence and then he smiled, a slightly rueful grin. 'That's what I should have done?'

  'You didn't?'

  'Hell, no.' His grin disap
peared. 'She can't have whatever she wants. I'm not a fairy godfather; I'll be her husband.'

  'And do you think that's something she can understand—before you're married?' she asked quietly.

  'Now why didn't I think of that?' he asked softly, and leaned towards her across the table. He picked up her hand and bent to kiss her fingers lightly. 'Thank you,' he murmured.

  Over his head Sophie looked straight into the face of Maximilian von Hartog. He was at the counter waiting to be served, and she stared at him in amazement. His expression was icy, his lips drawn into a thin line of anger, his face taut with contempt. The look lasted only a moment before the boy at her table raised his head and Max turned away. But Sophie felt as though she'd been slapped. The blood drained from her face and the room began to swim round her.

  'Are you all right?' her companion asked anxiously. 'You look a bit… it isn't anything I said, is it?'

  'No,' she managed, and shook her head. 'But I don't feel too good. I think I'd better get back.'

  'I'll see you home.'

  An hour later Sophie was on her way down to collect the children. She was crossing the hall when Max came out of his study.

  'I wish to see you for a moment,' he said tightly.

  'I have to fetch the children,' she answered him.

  'Now,' he said grimly, and she walked past him into the room. She had not seen the study; it was out of bounds to the children. She was briefly conscious of warm brown panelling, thick tweed curtains and a wide modern desk before Max closed the door and remained with his back to it.

  'What is it?' she asked nervously.

  'Who was that young man?' he asked tautly.

  Sophie resisted the temptation to say what young man and remained silent.

  'Well?' he demanded.

  'Your question is personal and I have no intention of answering it.' She looked up into his face, her own calm, her eyes clear, showing no sign of the turmoil she felt in his presence. He moved past her to the window.

  'While you're in this house I—we—have some responsibility for your welfare. If anything happened to you we'd be blamed.' When she didn't speak, he turned round. 'Well?' he asked again.

  'Are you asking me if I agree?'

  'Do you?'

  'No,' she said baldly. 'My personal life is not your concern.'

  'Do you know no one has ever talked to me like this?' he demanded angrily.

  'I could say the same. I'm not used to having my life questioned by my employers.'

  'Do you have any idea how angry you make me?'

  It was such a childish remark that her face softened. All she wanted was to caress the tension from his face, to coax him out of his angry mood. She couldn't seem to be angry with him for long, and wished fleetingly that she had more strength to control her feelings.

  Max was looking at her, and she saw the anger leave his eyes. His face relaxed and she sensed danger. Swiftly she veiled her eyes. He must not know how deeply and immediately he could tap her emotions, how much she longed for his tenderness and yearned to be close to him.

  'Sophie…' he began, but she cut him short.

  'I have to go,' she said curtly, turning away from him.

  'No.'

  In two strides he was at her side. She flinched, but didn't move away, fearing to rouse him further. Then he turned her into his arms and she felt the full length of his body against her.

  'Dear God, Sophie, what am I going to do with you?' He bent his head to her lips, but she moved, evading the searching mouth. 'What's this? Do I repel you now?' he demanded savagely. 'Is the blond youth more to your liking?' He held her away from him. 'Are you fickle? Is that why you won't commit yourself to me?'

  She turned her face up to his, unable to keep up the cool pretence. 'Oh, Max,' she whispered, and was snatched back into his arms, all restraint gone as he fastened his lips to hers, bruising and demanding. Savagely he invaded her mouth, refusing her breath as his arms tightened round her body and she felt the hard length of his legs against hers, intimate, intoxicating.

  The blood thundered in her ears and she threw back her head under the pressure of his mouth, her hands creeping up to his shoulders and into his hair, feeling the shape of him under her fingers. Desire for him swept her into a sudden vortex of emotion as his hand moved down her back.

  'Max!'

  The voice cracked into the silence and Sophie came back to earth with shattering suddenness. He took his arms away and pushed past her. Running a hand through his hair, he whipped out of the door, closing it firmly behind him, giving her a chance to recover as he faced Dorothea in the hall.

  'There you are! The nanny's disappeared again,' she complained. 'She was supposed to collect the children and she's late. I told you we should have let her go.'

  'Do you want me to find her for you?' he asked, his voice low and controlled.

  'It doesn't matter. I'll send Lisl.'

  By this time Sophie had her hair tucked back under her cap and her clothes tidy. Max opened the door and nodded wordlessly. She slipped past him into the empty hall.

  'There, that's it,' Sophie said to Erika. 'Now your hair and you're ready.'

  'Please hurry,' begged the little girl.

  'Come on, Erika,' her brother moaned. 'We'll be late!'

  With deft fingers Sophie fixed the plaits, twining the blue ribbon through the blonde thickness.

  'That's it. All done,' she said finally as Erika tugged to get away. 'And remember, young ladies do not rush down the stairs. They walk slowly so that everyone will look at them.'

  'Truly, Sophie?' The little girl looked up at Sophie.

  'Certainly. Your mother is beautiful and admired. You don't see her rushing about, do you?'

  'No…' The child considered thoughtfully.

  'If you don't come, Erika, I'll go without you,' her brother threatened, and the next moment both children were scampering down the stairs.

  In her sitting-room, Sophie drew back the curtains and reached out to push aside the shutters. There was a hush over the sleeping landscape, and lights were twinkling back at her from the darkness. She should be packing, she thought vaguely, but she didn't move. She was tired; the day had been full.

  Dorothea von Hartog she had seen only once during the afternoon. They had passed each other on the stairs, and the older woman had stopped her with an imperious movement of the hand.

  'We—my husband and I—wish you to join the party this evening,' she said stiffly, as though the words had been forced from her.

  'Thank you, but I have packing to do and would ask you to excuse me.'

  The relief in the other woman's face had been instant, and Sophie wondered who had demanded she issue the invitation.

  Faintly she could hear the pianist playing on the grand in the music room, but felt no wish to join the party. Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes.

  'Sophie?'

  It was Lisl at the door, peering in, wondering if she was asleep in the unlit room.

  'You're wanted. The children are to come upstairs.'

  Voices floated out through the open double doors of the sitting-room, and Sophie could see Dorothea bending down to the children, who were arguing. Erika, she could see, was in tears.

  'For goodness' sake, where have you been?' Dorothea snapped. 'Take them upstairs now. It's late.'

  'Certainly,' said Sophie quietly. 'Come on, you two. I've a treat upstairs.' She shepherded them to the door.

  'What is it, Sophie? Please tell us!' Erika's voice was strident with nervous excitement.

  'There isn't anything,' said Emil scornfully. 'It's just a trick to get us upstairs.'

  'Well, I certainly hope it isn't a trick. I'd hate it to disappear when I've taken so much trouble to get it ready,' Sophie replied gently, aware of the controlled tension in the boy's face. 'What would you say to a midnight feast?' They both stood still, their heads swivelling to stare up at her.

  'Truly?' breathed Erika.

  'Our own party,' she
said. 'Unless we ask the dogs.'

  'Yes!' they chorused, and rushed up the stairs ahead of her. In the nursery they stopped. There was nothing. Sophie turned them to face her room.

  'Close your eyes and keep them closed.'

  They shut their eyes tight and she put a match to the candles. 'Now,' she said. They opened their eyes, staring in wide-eyed amazement, and suddenly Sophie was fiercely glad she had taken the trouble.

  A small cake stood in the centre of the table, a swirl of cream forming their names: Emil and Erika. Set amidst more candles were sandwiches, fingers of toast, little fondant creams—everything exactly as the buffet downstairs.

  'Oh, Sophie, our own party!' Erika was ecstatic.

  Sophie pressed the button on her small cassette recorder and low piano music tinkled softly. And still the children stood motionless, candlelight gleaming on their excited faces.

  'Well,' asked Sophie at last. 'Anyone hungry?'

  Nearly two hours later she had them in bed, overfed, exhausted and reasonably happy. She was clearing away in the kitchen when she heard the suppressed sniffle. In Erika's room she sat down on the bed and took the unhappy bundle into her arms.

  'What's all this?' she asked softly. 'We have a party and it makes you cry?'

  'You're going home tomorrow, aren't you?' came the muffled reply.

  'Is that what this is all about?' she asked in surprise. 'I may be going, but you've your own nanny coming back, and your mummy here. That's more than most little girls have.'

  'Mummy doesn't like me.' The tortured whisper seemed to be wrung from her.

  'Now you know that's not true,' said Sophie calmly, hiding her consternation. Both children seemed so certain of this. Erika lifted a tear-stained face.

  'You won't tell her I said so, will you?' she pleaded.

  'I never tell secrets,' Sophie answered gravely.

  'She thinks I don't know,' Erika went on, 'but I do. Emil knows too. She likes him a little, but she doesn't like me at all. I'm not good and she hates me to kiss her.'