by Hazel Gaynor
“I’m sending for the doctor,” I said as I pressed my hand to her forehead. My concern intensified at the searing heat I felt there.
“Don’t fuss, Clara. I’ve just caught a chill.”
Ignoring her, I rushed down to the lobby and asked the concierge to send for the doctor straightaway.
He arrived mercifully quickly.
“Your sister must have picked up an infection from the water,” he confirmed after taking her temperature. He reminded me a little of our family doctor at home and I was glad I’d made the decision to send for him. “Her temperature is molto alto. Very high,” he cautioned. “You will need to sponge her down, encourage her to drink, and hope the fever breaks within a day or two.”
“A day or two?”
He packed away his stethoscope into a black medical bag. “After which she will need bed rest for several days more. Send for me if she worsens, or if there is no improvement in twenty-four hours. Is there anyone in the city you can ask for help? Family? Friends?”
“Not really—although, yes, actually.”
He looked confused.
“It’s complicated,” I said, “but yes, there are people I can ask to help.”
As Madeleine groaned and rolled over, I looked at her. I’d never seen her so ill, and it frightened me. In that moment, I felt very far from home and horribly alone in a strange city. I would be glad of someone’s help, or at least I would be glad of their company and reassurance.
But who to ask? I didn’t want to involve Edward. Meeting him had already caused me enough emotional turmoil, and I worried that it might seem a little forward of me if I asked him to come to our hotel suite. Matthias was an old man, and I didn’t want to worry him. Besides, we’d already given him enough of a shock showing up out of the blue. There was little point in calling Mother since she was so far away and would only worry terribly, and Charles would already be on his way to Austria, a thought that left me feeling increasingly panicked. The only other person I knew in Venice was Daniel Miller, and he was right here, in the same hotel.
It didn’t take me long to settle on asking him to come. Madeleine might pretend to be furious with him, but I knew her better than that, and I would do whatever it took to help her recover.
I left an urgent message for him at reception and within the half hour he was knocking on the door to our suite.
“I came as soon as I heard,” he said as I invited him inside. “I was doing a little shopping for my sisters, picking up some gifts for them before I return home. How is she?”
“She’s very sick. An infection picked up in the water, according to the doctor.” I swallowed my pride in an effort to be polite. “Thank you for coming. I know we didn’t part on the best of terms.”
“I’m so sorry, Miss Sommers. It’s my fault Madeleine took a tumble. I was silly to chase you and bother you. What can I do to help? I brought some books to help pass the time. I can sit with her if you like, while you get some rest.”
His manner was frantic, but he was so full of concern that I couldn’t sustain my anger with him for long. Even if it was partly his fault that Madeleine was in her current condition, it wasn’t his fault that Charles was deceitful and distrusting.
“I suppose your journey will be somewhat curtailed now,” Daniel said as I took his coat and hat. “Will you go straight home when Madeleine’s better?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “We’re supposed to go on to Austria next, to visit my grandmother’s sister.” I looked at him. “But I suppose you already knew that.”
He looked embarrassed. “I did, yes. And I also know that Charles is due to meet you there.”
I huffed out a breath and poured us both a large brandy.
“I haven’t told him that you know about our little scheme,” he continued. “I’ve explained your silence by telling him you’re busy with Violet’s messages, and sightseeing.”
There was that to be grateful for, at least.
“So, tell me, Mr. Miller. How does someone like you end up on a spying mission for a man like Charles Hancock? Please, enlighten me.”
“It seems rather ridiculous now that I’ve met you both and gotten to know you a little. Charles spoke to me in confidence about your grandmother’s idea. He was concerned about two women making the journey alone, but he knew your grandmother would insist, and that—despite some initial hesitation—you would go in the end. He always assumed Madeleine would jump at the chance.”
“He was right about that. But what’s in it for you? Why would you come all this way to follow us?”
He leaned back in his chair, his handsome features knotted into a frown.
“As you know, your fiancé is a very persuasive man.”
“He can be, yes.” I shifted uneasily in my chair at the mention of the term “fiancé.” A reminder of my impending wedding.
“I was looking for a promotion, and for an opportunity to travel to European cities to study the architecture there, and Charles had the perfect way to offer me both. And since you and I had never met, Charles knew you wouldn’t recognize me. He said he wanted a man on the ground whom he could trust. And that man was me. We’re college friends. I’m not sure if you were aware of that?”
“I wasn’t. It seems there is a lot I’m not aware of when it comes to Charles Hancock.”
We spoke at length about the arrangement the two men had come to and the sort of information Daniel had sent back, mostly an account of our progress, and to report on our safety.
“I suppose you told him about our disagreement over the letter Madeleine had concealed from me?” I asked. I was afraid Daniel would have mentioned it to Charles, or might even have seen Edward give me his gift before we’d boarded the Queen Mary. I presumed Daniel had already been watching us even then.
“I did not,” he said, looking down for an instant. “I’d come to know you both a little by then and I could see you were uncertain about . . . things. I decided it was none of my business who your letters were from. Or Charles’s business, for that matter.”
At this, I felt great relief.
“All Charles knows is that you and Madeleine are both in Venice on schedule, as planned,” he continued. “It might have taken a trip halfway around the world to realize it, and I apologize if this causes any offense, Miss Sommers, but I’ve decided that I don’t care to put my fate, my career, or my future in the hands of a man like Charles Hancock.” He offered an apologetic smile and raised his glass. “To creating our own destiny, Miss Sommers?”
The question lingered, but only for a moment.
I raised my glass to his and, although I didn’t say anything in reply, the bright clink of crystal against crystal cut through any remaining doubt as Daniel’s words swirled in my mind until they became my own: I don’t care to put my fate, my career, or my future in the hands of a man like Charles Hancock.
A cough from the adjoining room made us both stand.
“I’ll go,” I said, placing my glass on the table. “Madeleine might be sick, but she could still wallop you if she sees you.”
At this, Daniel laughed warmly. “Indeed!”
Maddie
Strange dreams of missing my train, boating accidents, and terrifying newspaper headlines followed me from one delirious night to another until at last the fever broke. I woke to find Clara at my bedside, pressing a cool cloth to my forehead and my cheeks, her brown eyes full of concern.
“Hello, you.” She smiled. “Welcome back.”
I sat up slowly. “How long have I been sick? You look different.”
“I look exhausted, I’m sure,” she said as she plumped my pillows and helped me to get comfortable. “You’ve been sick for several days and need to stay in bed for the rest of the week. Doctor’s orders.”
I groaned. “But we were supposed to leave for Austria. Did we miss the train?”
She sat beside me on the bed. “Yes. We should have left yesterday, but I made the decision for us to stay in Venice a li
ttle longer, to give you a chance to get better. I booked tickets on the train to Vienna for next week.”
I wasn’t even sure what day it was, but I knew we’d only had a couple of days left in Venice before I’d fallen ill. “But that will give us only a few days in Vienna. Will it be long enough?”
“Hopefully. Either way, we can’t reschedule our tickets for the Hindenburg. It will depart from the airfield in Frankfurt on the evening of May third, and we will be on board, come what may.”
I knew she was right, but I was disappointed to waste time stuck in bed. Why did I have to fall into the canal like a clumsy oaf, and in front of Daniel Miller of all people? I cringed at the memory of scrambling out of the water. Also, spending so little time in Vienna meant less chance of finding Margaret and less time scouting for story ideas. Austria was where I really hoped to get beneath the skin of the Nazi Party, perhaps even attend a rally to see what it was all about, especially after my conversation with Matthias.
“I thought, since Matthias is here,” Clara continued, “it would be better to spend most of our remaining time in Venice.”
She was right. Getting to know Matthias was more important than any news story. I was instantly comfortable in his presence and already liked him a great deal. I looked forward to spending a little more time with him.
“Fine, yes. That makes sense.” I reached for the glass of water on the bedside table. “I’m glad you were here, Clara. Thank you for taking care of me. I wasn’t going to die, was I?”
“Not unless I decided I couldn’t stand another moment with you, no! You were sick enough to give us a fright, though.”
“Us?”
A soft knock came at the bedroom door.
Clara stood up. “Yes. Us.” She cleared her throat, and looked a little nervous. “There’s someone who’d like to see you. Don’t be mad at me, but I didn’t know what else to do, and . . . well . . . Daniel’s here.”
I felt myself flush. “Daniel? Here? Why? But . . . I look a mess.”
“You’ve been ill, Madeleine. No one expects you to look like a fashion plate! Besides, I wouldn’t have thought you’d care about being a mess in front of someone you don’t even like.”
I ignored her teasing and looked at my blue silk pajama set to make sure I hadn’t dribbled soup or tea down the front. Reaching frantically for my brush and hand mirror from the bedside table, I combed the snarls from my long, tangled hair. Just as my curls were tamed into soft waves, Clara opened the door and Daniel stepped inside.
“Hello, Maddie,” he said. In his arms, he carried a small box wrapped in blue-and-gold paper.
“Daniel,” I said, forcing my tone to be formal, but in truth, I was glad to see him.
“Well you look a lot better than you did yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” I stared at Clara. “You were here yesterday?”
“Daniel has been here every day,” she explained. “He has been a tremendous help, actually. And on that note, I’ll leave you to your conversation.” She stepped from the bedroom but left the door open.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Much better. Clara won’t let me leave the hotel, but I feel fine.” I indicated that he should take the chair beside the window. “You might as well sit down, if you’re staying.”
“You mean, in this chair, where I’ve sat most of the night for the past couple of days?”
“You’ve been here every night?” I felt my cheeks heat again, as I thought of him seeing me in such a state. What was Clara thinking? And why did I keep blushing around Daniel?
He laughed. “Don’t worry. It was all very proper. I read, mostly. And thought a lot.” He perched on the edge of the chair and fidgeted with the box in his hands.
“Is that for me?” I asked, eyeing the gift.
He held out the package. “Perhaps it will say what I’ve been trying to.”
I accepted the gift and opened it carefully to preserve the beautiful paper. Inside, was a fountain pen, a set of colored inks, and an elegant stamp with the inscription M. Sommers in curled script. My hand covered my mouth in surprise. It was so beautiful. So thoughtful.
“Daniel, it’s . . . thank you. It’s perfect.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he said, a hint of a blush coloring his olive skin.
I studied his thick wavy hair, the dimple in his right cheek. His face was open and expressive, his humor affable. He was handsome; there was no other way to look at it, or him. He was a handsome . . . friend.
“I love it.” I stuck out my hand. “Truce?”
“Truce.” He shook my hand firmly, holding it a little longer than necessary.
I squirmed inwardly at the surprisingly pleasant sensation of his warm hand in mine, not sure what to make of it all, of his perfect gift or of his being at my bedside while I was feverish.
“Since I can’t leave this room,” I said, looking down as he gently pulled his hand from mine, “I suppose you might as well tell me who you really are, and all about those sisters of yours.”
He spoke fondly about his five sisters, most still living near one another, even after marriage. They seemed to be a happy, tightly knit family group.
“I can’t believe you have so many sisters,” I said, when the conversation lulled. “And you the youngest, and only son.”
“It’s why I’m so sensitive.” He waggled his eyebrows.
I rolled my eyes at him dramatically and then laughed.
“You really are getting better,” he said, a gleam of good humor in his eyes.
“Not fast enough. I’m missing the sights. I wanted to see Vienna, too, but it looks like that trip will have to be cut short. We can’t change our tickets to return home on the Hindenburg, and that’s an experience I definitely don’t want to miss.”
“Something I’ve been looking forward to myself,” he said, his features becoming animated. “A marvel of engineering and modern science.”
Of course! Daniel would be returning on the Hindenburg, too. Charles really had thought of everything. And he, no doubt, had a ticket for himself, too. Suddenly, my excitement dampened.
“Clara’s dreading it,” I replied. “She’s terrified of heights. I keep telling her there’s nothing to be afraid of, that it’s perfectly safe. You might say the same if you get the chance.”
I reached for one of the books Daniel had brought. “I think I’d like to read a little while and get some more rest.”
“Of course.” He stood. “I’ll check in on you tomorrow. If that’s alright?”
I shrugged and hid my smile behind the book. “I guess.”
“Is there anything I can bring you?”
I thought for a moment. “There is actually. I was hoping to pick up some more newspapers, or literature about Mussolini.” Daniel raised an eyebrow, but before he could reply I added, “I know it’s a little obscure, but it’s research for a piece I have in mind.”
He shrugged. “To be honest, I’d have been more surprised if you’d asked for a romance novel.”
“Why so?”
“Well, you don’t seem the kind of woman for romance. Novels, I mean.”
“Oh? What kind of woman do I seem?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “One of a kind. You are most definitely one of a kind, Madeleine Sommers.”
My stomach somersaulted at what I knew was meant as a compliment.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he added, before leaving the room.
A moment later, I heard the door closing behind him.
“That seemed to go well,” Clara said as she peered around the doorframe. “Considering you can’t stand the man.”
I threw a pillow at her and slid beneath the covers.
She caught the pillow and threw it straight back. “Oh, Madeleine. Just admit it. You like him.”
“I don’t!” I shouted, my voice muffled by the bedcovers. “Go away.”
She laughed as she closed the bedroom door.
When
she’d gone, I emerged from beneath the covers and picked up the beautiful inks and stamp. A huge smile spread across my face. M. Sommers. One of a kind.
Clara
With Madeleine falling ill, I hadn’t been able to spend as much time with Edward or Matthias as I’d hoped. I’d sent messages to them both to explain what had happened, and that I wouldn’t be able to meet them, and added an apology to Edward for not being able to attend the opening day of his exhibition. He arrived at the hotel with a beautiful but simple spray of sunflowers, and offered to help in any way he could.
“I don’t wish to intrude, Clara, but I wanted to let you know I am thinking of you both. And much as I would love to spend more time with you, I know that your sister is your priority now. You know where to reach me if you need me.”
Edward understood, better than most, the strain that existed between me and Madeleine. I’d spoken to him about it often, just as he’d spoken to me about the strain between him and Annabel. I knew it saddened him greatly that they’d grown apart, and that she increasingly pulled in a different direction. “I try to make her happy, but it seems I only irritate her more and more,” he’d said one fall afternoon as we’d painted the Manhattan skyline together. “She says I have my head in the clouds and that if I spent half as much time attending to our business affairs as I did to my damned paintings, we might fare better.”
Perhaps they were conversations we shouldn’t have had, private thoughts we shouldn’t have shared. Still, we took comfort in the exchange even though there wasn’t a great deal either of us could do to help the other.
Being alone in the hotel suite, watching over Madeleine, had given me time to think, especially in the silent hours of the night. There, I searched my heart, asking question after question, demanding only the truth in my replies. I’d thought a lot about Charles, about how we’d met, and how quickly everything had happened. The son of my father’s lawyer, Charles Hancock ticked all the boxes. Mother had quietly encouraged the relationship. She believed Charles would be a good husband who would give me a good life. Marrying him was the sensible thing to do, she said. The proper thing to do. Violet, on the other hand, was more challenging. “Do you love him?” she’d asked when I’d shown her the engagement ring. I’d laughed and said of course I did. “Truly, Clara?” she’d pressed. “Do you love him with all your heart, until it aches?” I hadn’t answered her then, but I knew the answer now.