“Thank you for a lovely evening.”

She stood uncertainly. “Good night, Dr. Trescombe.”

He came to stand very close to her. “Do you know my first name, Cordelia?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, of course, Charles.”

“But of course you couldn’t call me that, could you?” His face was grave but he sounded amused.

“No, I couldn’t. It wouldn’t do at all.”

He sighed. “Life is never going to be the same again,” he observed, and when she gave him a puzzled look, he bent and kissed her swiftly. “Good night, Cordelia.”

She puzzled again over that remark while she got ready for bed. Was he referring to leaving Vienna? Or was he going to marry one of the beautiful women she had seen that night? She shed a few tears at the hopelessness of the whole thing and fell into a troubled sleep.

Romance readers around the world were sad to note the passing of Betty Neels in June 2001. Her career spanned thirty years, and she continued to write into her ninetieth year. To her millions of fans, Betty epitomized the romance writer, and yet she began writing almost by accident. She had retired from nursing, but her inquiring mind still sought stimulation. Her new career was born when she heard a lady in her local library bemoaning the lack of good romance novels. Betty’s first book, Sister Peters in Amsterdam, was published in 1969, and she eventually completed 134 books. Her novels offer a reassuring warmth that was very much a part of her own personality. She was a wonderful writer, and she will be greatly missed. Her spirit and genuine talent will live on in all her stories.

Magic in Vienna
Betty Neels

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER ONE

THE ROOM WAS large, shabbily furnished and inadequately heated by old fashioned radiators, its discomforts heightened by virtue of the dull April morning. Its occupants sat round the heavy old fashioned table in the middle of the room eating their breakfast, presided over by a young woman whose large, long lashed hazel eyes redeemed an otherwise ordinary face from plainness. She was very neat, with pale brown hair coiled on the top of her head. As much of her person as was visible above the table, was clad in a knitted sweater which looked faded by most standards but was carefully pressed. She poured tea from the large pot before her while she listened to a girl of fifteen or so, sitting at the other end of the table. The girl was pretty, fair haired and blue eyed, her prettiness marred by a sulky mouth.

‘I think Mother’s mean to make me have my meals with you and the children,’ she declared. ‘Just because she swans around with her boyfriends and doesn’t want any competition I have to stay here in the schoolroom. Well, I won’t and no one can stop me.’

She glared defiantly at the girl she was addressing who said bracingly, ‘Don’t talk like that in front of the children, Chloë. Why don’t you go down presently and have a talk with your mother? But you are only fifteen you know.’

The boy sitting between them spoke with a full mouth. ‘Much good that’ll do you.’ He thrust his cup down the table. ‘Give me some more tea, Cordelia.’

‘Please…’

He turned pale blue eyes on her. ‘Why should I say please? Mother treats you like a servant so I shall too.’

The hazel eyes took fire but her voice was steady and quiet. ‘We shared the same father, Matthew.’

‘And he’s dead. You’ll be stuck here with the twins for years because you’ve nowhere to go.’

The girl didn’t bother to answer but turned her attention to the two small children sitting at the other side of the table. Six year old twins, a boy and a girl, eating bread and butter and jam and taking no notice of anyone. She had done her best to love them but they weren’t lovable children; her father had died soon after they were born and since her stepmother, who had never wanted them in the first place, ignored them as much as possible, she had tried to be a mother to them, more for her father’s sake, she supposed, for she had loved him. But now after six years, she had to admit that she had very little affection for them, largely because they had shown her none. She remembered very clearly her shock and apprehension when her father had told her that he was to marry again, and produced, almost immediately, a stepmother with two children of her own from a former marriage. Chloë and Matthew had been quite small then but they had looked at her with hostile eyes and although she had done her best to get on good terms with them, she had been defeated, largely because her stepmother had encouraged them, almost from the first day, to treat her as a kind of superior servant. It had been done very subtly, so that her father never had an inkling of what was going on and her stepmother had always been careful to behave charmingly towards her when her father was with them. Cordelia, a girl of spirit but sensible as well, could see no good coming of bringing the true state of affairs to his notice, and now all these years later, she was glad that she hadn’t.

But now the children didn’t need her; true, they expected her to look after them, much as a governess would, but even the twins at school each day, were quite able to look after themselves. Matthew had just remarked gloatingly that there was nowhere for her to go, but she had every intention of leaving. For several weeks now she had scanned the jobs columns in the newspapers and although there had been nothing which she felt she could tackle, she went on looking. Sooner or later, someone would want a young woman willing and able to cope with a child or children. True, it might mean going from the frying pan into the fire, but at least she would be paid. At present, she had no money of her own; from time to time her stepmother would give her cash for shoes or clothes, but she was expected to make it last and whatever she bought was expected to last, too.

Chloë pushed back her chair and got up from the table. ‘I’m going to see Mother now,’ she declared.

‘Your mother doesn’t like to be disturbed while she’s having her breakfast,’ Cordelia pointed out. ‘I should wait if I were you.’

‘Well, I’m not you,’ said Chloë rudely, ‘and I’ll do what I like.’

Matthew got up too. ‘I’m going fishing,’ he threw over his shoulder. It was nearly the end of the Easter holiday, and Cordelia sighed with relief because in another couple of days he’d be back at school. She finished the tea in her cup and remembered that the twins had been invited to a friend’s house for the morning. She didn’t like the boy they were to visit; he was almost, but not quite a vandal although he was barely eight years old, but her stepmother was a friend of his mother’s and would hear no word against him. They would be unmanageable when they got back from there for lunch, but at least it would leave the morning free for her to get on with sorting out Matthew’s school uniform. She stood over them while they washed their hands and tidied themselves, saw them safely down the short drive and across the village green and then walked briskly back to the house, a red brick Edwardian residence, over embellished with fancy brick work and balconies. Cordelia had never liked it; they had moved there just before her father had died because her stepmother had complained that the little Regency house in a nearby village was far too small. Her father had been ill then, too ill to stand firm against his wife’s insistence, and he’d given in without argument. If I manage to get a job, thought Cordelia, I shan’t miss home at all, for it isn’t a home.

The papers were in the hall as she went in. The cook and daily maid were in the kitchen, her stepmother wouldn’t come downstairs for another hour. Cordelia snatched up the Telegraph and the Times and sat herself down to read the jobs columns. There weren’t many in the household sections, the only ones she felt fitted for. She scanned first one paper and then the second one. Almost at the end of the column her eye lighted on what could only be an answer to her prayers. A patient, good tempered young woman, well-educated and with experience in the management of children was required to accompany a lady and her young granddaughter to Vienna where she would hand over her charge to her uncle. The post was temporary and references were required.

Cordelia flew upstairs to the second floor where she had a room. It was as shabby as the schoolroom and whereas the other rooms in the house were all handsomely furnished, it hadn’t been considered necessary to offer her one of them. All the same, it was hers, and had her few small treasures and a little desk of her mother’s there. She sat down at it and wrote a reply, stating that she was twenty-six, had six years of experience with children, had been educated at a well known girl’s school and offered the family doctor’s name together with that of her father’s solicitor as reference. She would have to post the letter at once as well as telephone these two gentlemen but first of all she would have to return the papers to the table in the hall. She had barely arranged them neatly and was turning away to go upstairs again when her stepmother came down.

She nodded at Cordelia’s polite good morning, picked up the papers and crossed the hall to the sitting room.

‘I’ll be out this morning, you will all have lunch in the schoolroom and I wish you’d press that skirt of mine—that maid’s no good. And you can go down to the village and get the groceries for cook, she says she must have them here this morning.’ She turned and looked at Cordelia with a cold eye: ‘And you can stop putting silly ideas into Chloë’s head—I won’t have her downstairs when I have guests. Her manners are appalling, surely to goodness you can at least teach the children how to behave? You’ve little else to do.’

Cordelia said quietly, ‘The twins to look after, Matthew to try to discipline, their clothes to see to, the shopping, the ironing quite often, the…’

Her stepmother lifted a hand. ‘You ungrateful girl, whining at me in such a fashion. You have a home and food and…’ she paused.

‘And what?’ asked Cordelia gently. Mrs Gibson glared, went into the sitting room and shut the door with a snap.

There was no sign of Chloë and Cordelia didn’t want to see her for a bit. She nipped smartly upstairs, found her purse, woefully slim, put the letter in her skirt pocket and hurried out of the house. There was a telephone kiosk near the general stores and post office, she ‘phoned the doctor first, extracted a promise that he would write a glowing reference for her if it was asked for, and then got on to the solicitor, an old man now, who had been a great friend of her father’s and was easily persuaded to do as she asked and not say a word to anyone. Both gentlemen were aware that her life hadn’t been an easy one since her father’s death and she was, after all, not a young silly girl. She bought her groceries and went back with her loaded basket to spend the rest of the morning listening to Chloë’s furious invective, mostly and quite unfairly directed against herself.

She had taken the precaution of asking the advertiser not to telephone and it was two days before the letter came. The postman came early but Cordelia was already up, helping Cook with the breakfast and laying the table. Cook, who had been with the family for a matter of twenty years, had strong feelings about the way in which Cordelia was put upon. ‘The master would turn in his grave if he did but know,’ she observed indignantly to her croney, the rectory housekeeper, ‘but Miss Cordelia, bless her, just goes sailing on, won’t be browbeaten, mind you, but never complains nor says a word to anyone. It fair breaks your heart. It’s to be hoped that something will happen.’

The letter happened. Cordelia was invited to call at Brown’s Hotel in London on the following Saturday at two o’clock for an interview. She read the letter twice and then put it in her pocket and Cook, who had been standing on the other side of the kitchen stove, watching her read it, asked, ‘Good news, Miss Cordelia?’

Cordelia explained. ‘And don’t please say a word to anyone,’ she begged, ‘but how on earth am I to get there?’

Cook couldn’t help her; Cordelia spent the morning plotting ways and means and didn’t come up with a single feasible idea, but someone was on her side; call it Fate, her Fairy Godmother, or just plain Luck, that afternoon her stepmother told her that she would be away for the weekend. ‘Friends in Berkshire,’ she said languidly, ‘I’ll drive myself and I’ll have to take Chloë with me, I suppose, they want to see her—Godparents, you know. The twins are to spend the day with the Kings; you’d better take them over directly after breakfast and fetch them back by seven o’clock. Matthew’s back at school, isn’t he?’

‘He goes tomorrow.’

‘So you’ll have nothing to do on Saturday—you’d better turn out the schoolroom. And see that Chloë’s things are ready by Friday afternoon; I want to leave after lunch.’

There were three days to go; Cordelia wrote a polite note confirming her interview, counted her money and worked out bus times to fit in with trains from St Albans. The buses didn’t fit in; she would never be able to catch the morning bus from the village although she thought she would be able to catch the early evening bus back from St Albans; there was one at five o’clock too, she might manage to catch that one. A taxi was the answer but she hadn’t enough money. She went through her usual chores worrying away at her problems and by Friday morning she still hadn’t solved it. She had gone to the kitchen to fetch the tray for breakfast when Cook stopped her. ‘Something’s on your mind, Miss Cordelia?’

‘Well, I don’t think I’ll be able to get to London—there’s no bus to get me to St Albans. I’ll have to ‘phone and cancel the whole thing.’

Cook turned the bacon she was frying. ‘No need, dearie, my nephew Sam he’s going to London tomorrow—he’ll take you the whole way and be glad to do it.’

Cordelia put down her tray. ‘Cook, you angel. Will he really? I’ll pay my share of the petrol…’

‘Indeed you won’t, Miss Cordelia, for it’s not costing him anything extra and he’ll have company. He won’t be able to bring you back though…’

‘That’s okay—there are several trains in the late afternoon and the last bus for the village doesn’t leave St Albans until six-fifteen, though I’ll try and catch the one before that if I can.’ Distant shouts signalled the twins clattering along to the schoolroom, and she picked up her tray once more. ‘What time?’ she asked. ‘I’m to be there by two o’clock.’

‘Sam wants to be at his aunt’s by one o’clock. If I do you some sandwiches will you be able to eat them somewhere?’

‘Bless you Cook, of course, I will.’

‘Well, good luck, Miss Cordelia, you deserve a taste of the world. I’ll miss you.’

‘I shall miss you too, if I get the job.’

Nothing occurred to upset their plans, her stepmother and Chloë left after lunch and since it was a fine afternoon, Cordelia took the twins for a walk, gave them their tea and then played cards with them until bedtime. They didn’t want to go, of course, but the reminder that they were to spend the day with Johnny and Jennifer and would have to get up smartly in the morning, got them into bed at last. Cordelia ate her supper in the schoolroom and repaired to her own room to prepare for the next day. She had had her suit for quite a time now, it was well cut and fitted her nicely and though it was sadly out of fashion it would have to do. She polished her shoes put handbag and gloves ready and went to bed. She went to sleep at once; there was no point in lying awake worrying about the interview, she had learnt long ago not to worry too much but to make the best of what was offered.

She enjoyed the ride with Sam; the twins safely seen into the Kings’ household she had been free to get dressed, drink a hasty cup of coffee, and with Cook’s promise to see that the schoolroom cupboard was turned out and the furniture polished, she had got into his small, down-at-heel van with something like excitement. Only when he drew up in front of the dignified exterior of Brown’s Hotel did she falter.

‘Looks a bit grand,’ ventured Sam, peering at the windowboxes.

Cordelia, with memories of visiting such hotels in her father’s company before he remarried, was made of sterner stuff. ‘It’s only an hotel,’ she pointed out. ‘And I shall just go to a room to be interviewed. Thank you, Sam, for the lift. You’ve no idea how grateful I am.’ She beamed at him. ‘Perhaps, one day I’ll be able to repay it.’ She got out of the van and ignoring the surprise on the face of the doorman, put her head through the open window. ‘Have a nice weekend with your auntie.’

She crossed the pavement. ‘I’ve an appointment with Lady Trescombe,’ she told the doorman, ‘Where should I go?’

The doorman was elderly and had elderly ideas. Now here’s a lady, he told himself, not like some of those flighty young things I’ve been opening the door to. Aloud he said politely; ‘If you go to the desk, the clerk will help you.’ He held the door for her and she thanked him as he escorted her inside.

Lady Trescombe had a room on the first floor and she was shown into a small ante room leading to it. To her bitter surprise there were three other girls already there. They eyed her, dismissed her as not worth worrying about, and ignored her ‘Good afternoon’ as she sat down.

They were all smartly dressed, a good deal younger than she was, moreover they each one of them wore the look of someone who had enjoyed a good meal. The sandwiches which she and Sam had shared in a lay-by hadn’t really filled her and she longed for a cup of tea. Worse still, she was far too early; there was the best part of an hour before her appointment. A girl came out, looking pleased with herself and one of the others got up and went through the door into the room beyond. Cordelia, realising that she had a long wait before her, allowed her thoughts to dwell on the unlikely possibility of her getting the job and if she did what she would do with the money she earned, and more important, what she would do when the job finished. How long was temporary, she wondered, a week, a month, six months? And once embarked on a life of her own, should she stick to similar work or should she find work in a shop or train as a nurse or even become someone’s housekeeper? One thing was certain, she would never go back to her stepmother’s house.

She sat on patiently as the other girls, one by one, went away and returned until at last she was the only one left, and presently the girl before her came out, said, ‘You next,’ and left too.

Cordelia took a deep breath and opened the door. The room was large, comfortably furnished and warm. She hadn’t formed any idea of the person whom she was to meet and the rather fragile elderly lady sitting in an easy chair by a small table, took her by surprise. She said good afternoon in her pleasant voice and at a nod, sat down on a chair drawn up close to the table.

The lady might look fragile but she also looked very alert and a little severe. She had a small voice but the questions she put were very much to the point. No, said Cordelia, she had no university degree, and no, she hadn’t worked for anyone before, and no, she couldn’t drive a car. It made a nice change when she was able to say that yes she could speak German after a fashion, that she had spent quite a few years looking after the young stepbrothers and sisters, that she had no plans to marry and no romantic attachment, as Lady Trescombe put it.

‘Why do you want this job?’ asked that woman suddenly.

‘I’ve been looking after the children since my father remarried,’ explained Cordelia, ‘the twins are six years old and go to school. I’m not really needed at home.’

‘You won’t be missed?’

‘No.’

‘My granddaughter,’ said Lady Trescombe, ‘is a spoilt child but a nice one, she is twelve years old and her parents have been in South America for two years. She has been living with me but my son has decided that I should have a rest and has agreed to have Eileen to live with him until his sister and her husband return home in a few months’ time. I believe that you will suit very well, but I must warn you that your stay in Vienna will depend on whether he wishes you to remain as Eileen’s companion. She will, of course, be sent to school but you will be kept fully occupied. My son is a surgeon, working at a hospital there. He expects to return to England sometime this summer.’ She paused and mentioned a salary which sent Cordelia’s blood pressure sky high. ‘Do you wish to consider my offer or are you prepared to accept it at once.’

‘I’ll accept it, thank you. I think I should tell you though that my stepmother will probably be annoyed because I want to earn my own living…’

‘No doubt,’ agreed Lady Trescombe drily. ‘If it will help at all, I will write to her.’

Cordelia hesitated. ‘Well, that would be marvellous, but I don’t want to—to hide behind you, Lady Trescombe.’

‘I fancy that you are not in the habit of hiding behind anyone, Miss Gibson. Let me see, it is now the last week of April, I wish to travel in one month’s time. I should be obliged if you will take up your post two weeks before that so that Eileen may get to know you. That will make it around the twenty-third of the month. Will you arrange that? I think it may be best if I send the car for you.’

She smiled suddenly. ‘I believe that we shall understand each other very well. Will you have a cup of tea before you go? I intend to have one, interviewing is dry work. If you would be so good as to ‘phone down? Tea and buttered toast.’

Cordelia with rumbling insides, thankfully accepted and did as she was bidden, and when tea came, ate the delicious, thin slivers of buttery toast with slow daintiness, subduing an urge to bolt the lot.

Lady Trescombe, it transpired, lived just outside Guildford and it was there that Cordelia would go to start with. ‘You will naturally have time to do whatever shopping you may need,’ she pointed out and eyed Cordelia’s unassuming appearance. She added, probably due to her scrutiny, ‘I daresay that you have very little need for town clothes since you live in the country; I suggest that I advance you a part of your salary so that you may buy anything you might need, but we can discuss that later.’ She put down her cup and saucer and said with a smile: ‘I think that is all, unless you have any questions?’

‘Not at the moment, thank you, Lady Trescombe.’ Cordelia had got up, sensing that the interview was over. ‘I shall do my best with Eileen and I’m most grateful for being given the chance to work for you.’

They shook hands and Lady Trescombe said: ‘I’ll write and confirm this and also write, as I suggested, to your stepmother. I must warn you again, though, that if my son doesn’t wish to have you remain with Eileen in Vienna the job may only last a fortnight or so.’

‘I understand that,’ Cordelia’s voice was quite firm; she had her chance and she was going to seize it with both hands and not worry too much about what would happen next. She thought that she had a good chance of staying; middle aged bachelors might not take too kindly to someone young and pretty invading their calm households, but she was neither, she had learnt long ago to merge into the background and she would go on doing that if necessary.

The doorman touched his cap as she left the hotel and offered to get her a taxi. She beamed at him, suddenly delighted with her world. ‘I’ll walk, thank you,’ she told him and set off briskly and turned the corner in to Grafton Street and thence as fast as she could go into Regent Street. If she didn’t have to wait too long for a bus she would be able to catch the five o’clock train.

She got back in good time to fetch the twins, who had, she gathered from Mrs King’s veiled remarks, behaved badly. They were both peevish and almost unmanageable; getting them to bed took all her patience and most of her strength. Lady Trescombe had warned her that her granddaughter was spoilt but at least there was only one of her, thought Cordelia, as she ate her supper later on. She was sharing it with Cook, pouring into that sympathetic lady’s ears all the excitements of her day.

‘It sounds a treat,’ commented Cook, ‘and depend upon it, you being such a nice young lady, the gentleman will want you to stay, Miss Cordelia.’

Cordelia hoped most fervently that that would be so. The letter offering her the job, arrived on Monday, so did a letter for her stepmother who read it with outraged disapproval and then subjected Cordelia to half an hour’s invective and reproaches. Not that they made any difference to Cordelia, who listened with a calm patience which served to annoy that lady even more.

But beyond railing at her, there was very little her stepmother could do; she was a grown woman, penniless it was true, but independent. She suggested quietly that her stepmother should advertise for an au pair or a home help to take her place and then went up to the attics to search for the suit case she had used years ago when she had gone to boarding school. It was shabby, but it would have to do. She carried it down to her room and cleaned it up and put it in the bottom of the old fashioned wardrobe; it gave her a nice feeling of security although there were three weeks before she could take up her new job.

Chloë and the twins took the news that she was leaving with little interest although they grumbled a good deal at the idea of having someone in her place. Not because they minded her going, Chloë was quick to point out, but because their mother had warned them that whoever came would be able to go again whenever she liked, unlike their ungrateful stepsister, she had added nastily. And since she had no intention of engaging a series of au pairs, they would have to behave themselves. ‘But of course,’ said Chloë rudely, ‘I’ll do exactly what I like; I’ve never listened to you, and I don’t intend to listen to whoever comes, whatever Mother says.’

Cordelia hadn’t answered; they were all making life as hard as possible for the last week or two, but she hardly noticed; she thought a great deal about the girl she was to look after and speculated a good deal about the uncle in Vienna. Lady Trescombe was in her sixties, she guessed, which meant that her son would probably be verging on forty or perhaps older than that; a balding misogynist probably, since he wasn’t married, quite likely he didn’t much like children, and she and Eileen would have to keep out of his way. Of course, mused Cordelia, he might take an interest, but he also might take an instant dislike to herself and send her packing, but at least he would have to pay her fare back and she would have a little money. She refused to think beyond that; she had waited a long while for something to happen and now that it had, she refused to believe that anything could go wrong.

The three weeks went very slowly but she went around the house doing the chores she had always done and whenever she could, went to her room and did what she could with her meagre wardrobe. She looked with dislike at each garment in turn, really there was nothing fit to wear except a handful of woollies and a sober mouse-coloured dress. She would have to spend all the money she was to have advanced; fortunately it was almost summer and she could get by with a skirt and blouses and perhaps a jacket; there was the question of something decent to wear in the evening too—a long skirt and a couple of blouses might do. If only she could lay her hands on a sewing machine and some material… She might have borrowed the former from someone in the village but she had no more than a pound or two in her purse and very little opportunity to go to St Albans. She would have to do the best she could once she got to Guildford and in the meantime she washed and ironed and pressed and thought happily of the new clothes she would buy.

Her stepmother hardly spoke to her and when, at last the day of her departure arrived, a splendidly warm sunny morning too, so that Cordelia felt all wrong in the grey dress, Mrs Gibson turned her back on her when her step-daughter went along to her room to say goodbye.

‘Don’t think you can come back here, Cordelia, I’m sure I don’t want to see you again—the ingratitude…’

Cordelia went out of the room without a word; Chloë was in the schoolroom reading; she glanced up for a moment as Cordelia went in, said goodbye carelessly and went back to her reading. The twins had already gone to school with never a backward glance. She went to the kitchen and took her leave of Cook, who began to cry. ‘There are those who’ll be sorry for this,’ she uttered fiercely, ‘letting you go without so much as a pound note and wearing clothes I wouldn’t give to the jumble! begging your pardon, Miss Cordelia.’ She pressed a small packet into Cordelia’s hand. ‘Don’t open it now, love—it’s just a little something so that you will remember me. And the village wishes you well, you know that. Write when you have time…’

‘Of course I shall, Cook, and thank you for your present.’ Cordelia bent and kissed the elderly cheek. ‘I’m sure I’m going to be happy.’ And since Cook was still weeping she added cheerfully: ‘I’ll meet a rich man who’ll fall head over heels in love with me and we’ll set up house and you shall come and cook for us.’

Cook blew her nose and wiped her eyes. ‘You mean that. Miss Cordelia? Then don’t leave it too long, will you? I’ve been thinking of leaving these last few months, but I’m getting on a bit and there aren’t many jobs going…’

Cordelia took her hands in hers. ‘That’s a promise, Cook. Now I must go.’

She carried her case down to the front door after breakfast, Lady Trescombe had said the car would be there at half-past nine and it was exactly that time. She picked up her case and went outside and the elderly man sitting behind the wheel of a Daimler motor car, got out and took it from her with a cheerful: ‘Good morning, Miss. I’m Bates, the chauffeur.’ He cast an eye over her neat, unspectacular person and smiled very kindly at her. ‘Welcome to Lady Trescombe’s household.’ He held the door of the car open but Cordelia hesitated: ‘May I sit in front with you, Bates? You see, I don’t know much about anything. I don’t mean to pry, but it would be a great help if you could tell me a little about Lady Trescombe and her granddaughter—it’s the first time I’ve had a job you see, and I’m not sure about things…’

Bates shut the car door and ushered her into the seat beside his. ‘Well, now, Miss, where shall I start?’ He started the car and drove smoothly away and Cordelia didn’t look back.

By the time they were nearing Guildford she knew quite a lot; Lady Trescombe was the finest lady anyone could work for; not strong but always kind and good tempered. As for the staff, there was himself, his wife who cooked for them all, Elsie the parlour maid who also looked after Lady Trescombe, and Mrs Trump and Miss Gage who came in daily. ‘And then there’s you Miss and our Miss Eileen. A very nice little girl—a bit lively as you might say, but she being the only one is used to having her own way. You like children, Miss?’

‘Yes, Bates, I do.’ She thought briefly of the twins whom she would so gladly have loved if only they had let her. ‘I hope we shall get on well together.’

They were on the outskirts of Guildford now, bypassing the town and going beyond it into the countryside once more. They were almost on the edge of a small village when Bates swinging the car between brick gate posts went, more slowly now, up a short drive to a pleasant red brick house, old and beautifully maintained, it’s latticed windows shining in the sunshine.

Cordelia had been sternly suppressing panic for the last few miles and all for nothing; nothing could have been kinder than her reception as she went through the door held open by Bates.

It was Mrs Bates, short, stout and cheerful, who trotted into the hall, closely followed by Lady Trescombe and in the little flurry of greetings and instructions about her luggage and the urging into the sitting room where coffee was waiting, she forgot her panic. Presently, when she had drunk her coffee while Lady Trescombe chatted about nothing in particular, she was taken up the oak staircase to a room at the back of the house so that she might unpack and settle in, as Mrs Bates cosily put it.

Alone, Cordelia sat down on the edge of the bed and looked around her. The room was square, neither too big nor too small, with a wide latticed window and a low beamed ceiling. It was furnished simply but with great comfort with well polished oak and flowery chintz. There was a thick quilt on the bed and a small easy chair upholstered in pink velvet by the fireplace as well as a writing desk under the window and flowers and books on the bedside table. She took it all in slowly; after the bare austerity of her own bedroom this was heaven indeed. She went over to the cupboard along one wall and peered into its roomy interior; her clothes would be swallowed up in it. There was a bathroom too, pale pink, with thick fluffy towels and a shelf filled with soaps and bath salts. Cordelia shut her eyes and then opened them again, just to make sure that she wasn’t dreaming.

It was real enough; she gave a long happy sigh and unpacked.

When she went downstairs again she found Lady Trescombe sitting in the drawing room where they had had coffee. She would have to ask just what her duties were and what better than to do it at once? Only she wasn’t given the chance. Lady Trescombe put down the book she was reading and smiled at her.

‘I thought it might be best for you to go into the garden and meet Eileen on your own. She will be at the very end, behind the beech hedge I expect. She knows that you will be accompanying us to Vienna but I didn’t tell her you would be coming today. And may I call you Cordelia?’

‘Of course, Lady Trescombe, and I’d like Eileen to call me that too, if you don’t mind.’

‘I think it a very good idea. Get to know each other today and tomorrow we’ll work out some kind of routine. You will want to go shopping—perhaps in two or three days time? Did I tell you how we are travelling?’

Cordelia shook her head. ‘No, Lady Trescombe.’

‘We fly to Munich and take a small cruise ship down the Danube. A slow way to get to Vienna perhaps, but we shall have a week to get to know each other and if Eileen is feeling doubtful about meeting her uncle and her life with him, you will have the opportunity to reassure her. I should warn you that I intend to do nothing during the week; I shall rely upon you to entertain Eileen and keep her happy; we shall meet for lunch and dinner of course, but I shall put you in sole charge.’

She gave Cordelia a questioning look as she spoke and Cordelia returned the look calmly; if Lady Trescombe was hinting delicately that Eileen was going to be difficult she refused to let it fluster her; no one, she considered, could be more difficult than her own stepsister; if she could emerge unscathed from a number of years of dealing with tantrums and rudeness and not be paid for it either, then she could certainly cope with Eileen. She stood up. ‘I’ll go and meet her now, shall I?’

The french windows were open on to the garden beyond and she strolled off, making for the beech hedge in as casual a manner as she could manage. She had no doubt that Lady Trescombe would be watching from the house to see if she were showing any signs of nerves. She reached the beech hedge and went, still unhurriedly, beyond it and, just as Lady Trescombe had said, found Eileen lying on the grass reading.

She hadn’t heard Cordelia, so there was time to study her; she was tall for her age, Cordelia judged, and slim to the point of thinness. She had an untidy mane of dark curly hair and denim trousers and a cotton top which she wore, although crumpled, were exactly what a clothes conscious child of her age would choose.

Cordelia couldn’t see her face; she stepped heavily and deliberately on to the paved path between the hedge and the child looked up. She had been crying, evident from puffed eyelids and a pink nose, neither of which could disguise a pretty face. But the scowl on it wasn’t pretty as she jumped to her feet.

‘Who are you?’ she demanded, and then: ‘You’re the governess Granny said she’d found. Well, I’m not going to like you for a start…’

Cordelia didn’t smile. She said coolly. ‘I’ve lived most of my life with two stepsisters and two stepbrothers and none of them liked me. I’m a bit disappointed that you won’t even give me a trial, but I admire your honesty. Only I think you at least owe me an explanation as to why you’re crying. Because of me?’

‘No, of course not. I didn’t know what you’d be like, did I?’

‘That’s something. Do you want to tell me?’

Eileen stared at her. ‘You’re not a bit what I thought you’d be.’

Cordelia made herself comfortable on a tree stump. ‘What did you expect?’

‘Well—someone old and plain and cross.’

‘I’m plain but I’m not that old and I don’t think I’m often cross, suppose you give me a trial?’

Eileen looked surprised. ‘Well—all right. Do you really want to know why I was crying?’ She added fiercely. ‘I don’t cry much.’

‘Yes, I’d like to know. I’m not curious, mind you—but perhaps, seeing that I’m a complete stranger, I might be able to help a bit.’

‘It’s going away from here and Granny. Mummy and Daddy won’t be coming home for two months and now Uncle Charles says she must have a rest from looking after me and so I have to go and live with him in Vienna until they come home. There’s no one else you see.’

‘You don’t like your Uncle?’

‘I don’t remember him. He’s a surgeon and he’s always busy, I was a little girl when I saw him last, but I can’t remember him very well. He’s very large and quite old. I’ll have to be quiet in his house and I don’t suppose he’ll want to see me much…’

‘He sounds a bit dreary,’ agreed Cordelia, conjuring up a picture of a learned, slightly stooping gentleman, going bald, probably with a drooping moustache and a dislike of children, ‘but as long as we keep out of his way and don’t annoy him, I should think we’d quite enjoy ourselves. I’ve never been to Vienna but I believe it’s an exciting sort of place. Two months isn’t long, you know, and I daresay we’ll be able to fill in the days until your mother and father come home.’ Always supposing, she told herself silently, that uncle didn’t dislike her on sight and send her back to England.

Eileen gave her a childish grin. ‘I think perhaps I’ll like you,’ she observed. ‘Why didn’t your stepsisters and brothers like you?’

Cordelia pondered the question. ‘Well, my father married again, a widow with a little girl and boy, and they didn’t like me overmuch, I suppose because I was grown up and they weren’t, and then my stepmother had twins, and I looked after them. I expect they thought of me as a kind of nursemaid.’

‘You’re not sorry for yourself?’ stated Eileen.

‘Good grief no. I say Eileen, I have to buy some clothes before we go to Vienna, would you help me with that? You see, I’ve been living in the country and I’m not a bit fashionable.’

‘I can see that. What’s your name?’

‘Cordelia.’

Eileen smiled, a wide friendly smile, Cordelia was relieved to see. ‘OK Cordelia, I think you’re nice.’

‘Thank you Eileen, I think you’re nice too. You must tell me what I’m supposed to do, you know. Do you think we ought to go and find your grandmother and tell her that we’ve met?’

Eileen came closer and took her hand. ‘Yes, let’s.’

CHAPTER TWO

IT WAS GOING to be all right, decided Cordelia, lying awake in her comfortable bed that first night; the day had gone well. She and Eileen had lunched with Lady Trescombe and then gone for a leisurely walk while the child advised her solemnly about the kind of clothes she should buy and the various improvements she could make to her hair and make-up. Then when that important subject had been dealt with, they made hilarious guesses about Uncle Charles; he was to be stout and short, going bald and stuffy and when Cordelia reminded Eileen that she had said that he was a large man, she was told that people shrank with age. But they didn’t talk about him at tea, after all Lady Trescombe was his mother, and might be sensitive about his appearance. ‘And in any case,’ observed Cordelia, going to say good night, ‘we mustn’t be unkind—we’ve only been joking; perhaps your uncle is the best possible kind of uncle to have.’

Eileen looked doubtful. ‘Well, I don’t think he can be, if he was he’d have been married simply years ago.’ She added anxiously: ‘You will stay, won’t you?’

‘Provided your uncle will let me, my dear.’ Cordelia spoke cheerfully making light of her uncertainty.

It was astonishing how quickly the days flew by. She quickly discovered that Lady Trescombe was only too glad to leave her granddaughter in her care for the greater part of the day. They had lunch and dinner together and sometimes tea, but breakfast they had alone and provided Lady Trescombe knew what their plans were, they could do more or less what they wanted. True, Cordelia supervised Eileen’s piano practice each morning, and they read together for an hour during the day but otherwise the time was theirs to do with it as they wished. They walked miles while Cordelia listened to Eileen’s tales of her parents; they were never ending and she suspected that the child was homesick for them. She had spent the last year with her grandmother, going to a local private school where she had been happy enough but, she confided, lonely. ‘Granny’s friends are all so old,’ she explained, ‘and now I’ll have to stay with Uncle Charles and he’ll be old too…’

‘Well, not as old as all that,’ demurred Cordelia, ‘and if he wants me to stay, I’m not old at all, really. Remember we’ll be in a foreign city and there’s an awful lot to see there and school will be fun. Can you speak any German?’

‘A little, we had to learn it at school.’

‘Splendid—I can speak it a little too, so we’ll have fun exploring when you’re out of school.’ She saw Eileen pout and said hastily, ‘Let’s make plans for the shopping I still have to do; now what do you suggest I buy?’

She had two weeks salary and she intended to spend almost all she had. Once Eileen was in bed each evening, Cordelia sat in her room, whittling down her list of clothes until she decided that she had done the best she could, so that when, two days before they were due to leave, Lady Trescombe told her that Bates would drive her into Guildford so that she might do her shopping, she knew exactly what she had to look for. Eileen was to go too and if she saw anything she liked, said her grandmother, Cordelia could buy it for her; she was given a roll of notes to use for this purpose although she didn’t think that they would be spent; Eileen had a great many clothes and surely had no use for more.

Bates dropped them off in the middle of the shopping streets, arranged to pick them up during the afternoon and drove away and Cordelia, clutching her purse and with Eileen hanging on her arm, began her search.

She succeeded very well, considering that Eileen held matters up from time to time, seeing something that she simply had to have. But Cordelia, while making no objection to this, took care that they didn’t waste too much time and refused to be side tracked by her young companion’s wish that she should buy several pairs of highly coloured jeans and a handful of T-shirts. ‘Not quite the rig for a governess,’ she pointed out and went on looking for a cotton skirt with which she could wear coloured blouses. She settled for a sand coloured one, which Eileen declared was very dull but which was exactly what Cordelia had wanted. One or two cotton blouses and some sandals took care of her day by day wants—rather sparse, but that would have to do. A cotton jersey dress in a pretty blue would do for travelling and exploring museums and churches and a thin silk jersey dress in pale pastel shades would take care of any social occasions, although she didn’t expect many of those. It only remained to buy a cardigan to match the skirt and a pair of plain court shoes. And by then her money was almost exhausted. There was enough to buy undies and tights from a high street chain store but not enough for a raincoat; she would have to make do with her old one. Perhaps in Vienna she would buy one. The pair of them repaired to the restaurant of the store they were in, ate a good lunch and then browsed around the more expensive shops, where Eileen found exactly the kind of sandals she craved. That they were extremely expensive and unlikely to last more than a month or so, were arguments Cordelia tried in vain; they were bought, and since they were gaily striped, it became imperative to find jeans and a top to match them. Cordelia, watching patiently while Eileen started to try on these garments, wondered what Lady Trescombe would say when she handed over the remnants of the money she had given her.

She need not have worried; Eileen’s grandmother expressed approval of both sandals and outfit, enquired kindly of Cordelia if she had found all that she required for herself and suggested that the evening might be spent in packing. A lengthy business, for Eileen changed her mind a dozen times in as many minutes and when at last Cordelia had packed for her declared that it didn’t really matter if she hadn’t got all she needed with her; she could always buy anything she wanted in Vienna. Cordelia, starting on her own modest packing, wondered what Uncle Charles would have to say to that.

They were to fly from Heathrow to Munich and Bates drove them there in the early morning. Although they were joining the cruise ship at Passau, Lady Trescombe had explained, they would be met by a hired car at Munich airport and drive there in comfort; she had, she explained further, a dislike of travelling in coaches. ‘And I shall not go ashore,’ she told Cordelia, ‘but I think it would be good for Eileen to see as much as possible; so you will take all the tours with her. I hope the weather will be fine.’

Cordelia was too thrilled at the prospect of going to somewhere as exciting and romantic as Vienna to worry about the weather. She had almost no money, but she had more new clothes than she had had for a long time, she possessed a passport, and whatever the future held, she was about to enjoy a week of sightseeing beyond her wildest dreams.

The flight was short, less than two hours and they travelled Club class with only a handful of other passengers, so that Eileen, who considered herself a seasoned traveller, was able to point out various landmarks to Cordelia. When they got to Munich airport and had dealt with their luggage and customs, a task undertaken by Cordelia since Lady Trescombe was obviously in the habit of having someone dealing with the tiresome details of travel, a car was waiting for them and whisked them away long before the other travellers had reached the coaches waiting to take them to Passau.

The country was pleasant, not unlike England, and the day was fine; Cordelia, in the blue jersey outfit and thoroughly content with her world, patiently answered Eileen’s chatter and left Lady Trescombe to doze until they stopped at Altotting for lunch. The hotel facing the square in the centre of the picturesque little town awaited the arrival of the coach load of passengers for the ship but Lady Trescombe chose to have lunch in the smaller of the restaurants and before the coaches arrived they had finished their light meal and she was back in the car while Cordelia and Eileen hurried across to the small old chapel opposite the hotel, to peer inside at the incredible silverwork on its walls and wish that they could have had more time to inspect it. But Cordelia had already discovered that Lady Trescombe, while good natured and kind, disliked having her plans or comfort upset. She urged Eileen back to the car and they set off once more.

They reached Passau well ahead of the main party and were on board, settled in their cabins long before the first of the other passengers arrived. It was a splendid ship, Cordelia considered and the cabin she and Eileen shared was not only roomy, it was comfortable and airy and they had a splendid view from their large window. Lady Trescombe, next door, had a double cabin to herself, and presently Cordelia unpacked for her, listened carefully to that lady’s plans for the cruise, bade Eileen stay where she was for the moment and went to the reception desk to deal with Lady Trescombe’s wishes. They weren’t many but they were exacting and at the same time, she took a quick peep round the ship; the restaurant, the lounge, the sundeck and swimming pool. It all looked very satisfactory.

She was to book any tours which Eileen fancied, she had been told and Lady Trescombe had given her sufficient money to pay for them all and buy any small things she or Eileen needed. She, herself intended spending a quiet time reading and resting and she made it plain that although the pair of them might enjoy themselves as much as they wished, she didn’t want to be unduly disturbed. Which suited Cordelia well enough; she and Eileen spent half an hour deciding where they would go ashore, then they explored the ship, inspected the swimming pool and went back to their cabin to get ready for the evening.

The Captain’s cocktail party, they had been told, was to take place before dinner. The three of them went along to the lounge, Lady Trescombe in a simple black dress which had probably cost more than the whole of Cordelia’s wardrobe put together. Eileen in an equally expensive outfit and Cordelia in one of the jersey dresses. The lounge seemed very full of people; Lady Trescombe sat herself down at once but Cordelia and Eileen, glasses of some drink or other in their hands, found themselves caught up in a cheerful group of passengers. It was a pity, thought Cordelia that they weren’t sharing a table with one or two other people, but Lady Trescombe, while perfectly civil to everyone, had no intention of getting involved in any but the most transitory of conversations. The three of them dined at a window table and since by then it was quite late, went to their cabins afterwards.

The sound of the river water under their window was very soothing, Cordelia was asleep within minutes of putting her head on the pillow.

The pair of them were up early and up on deck before many of the passengers were awake. It was chilly but fine and they hung over the side admiring the magnificent scenery, planning their day. They were to go ashore and see the little town of Durnstein after lunch and a good part of the morning would be taken up with getting tickets for their various trips ashore. And since everything was strange and the scenery changed at every bend of the river, Cordelia thought it unlikely that Eileen would be bored.

They went down to breakfast presently; Lady Trescombe had declared that she would breakfast in her cabin and didn’t wish to be disturbed until after that; they ate their meal unhurriedly, exchanging small talk with the occupants of the tables nearby while Eileen speculated about her stay with Uncle Charles.

The child was worried guessed Cordelia, and did her best to calm her down a little. ‘Look Eileen,’ she coaxed, ‘would it be a good idea to forget your Uncle Charles until we get to Vienna? There’s such a lot to do before then. I don’t believe he’ll be half as bad as you think.’

Eileen frowned. ‘It’s all very well for you, Cordelia.’ She tossed her head. ‘Mummy says I’m a high spirited child and mustn’t be thwarted; I bet Uncle Charles thwarts me.’

‘Why should he? And you’re not going to be there for ever, you know.’

‘If he won’t let you stay, I shall run away.’

‘In that case, I’ll have to stay, won’t I?’ Cordelia sounded matter-of-fact. ‘Now let’s stop worrying about something which I’m sure won’t happen. Suppose you get out your camera and get some photos taken? We can have them developed when we get to Vienna and stick them in an album then you can show them to your Mother and Father.’

Durnstein, when they reached it, was a small picturesque town crowned by the ruins of the castle where Richard the Lionheart had been held captive and found, finally, by the faithful minstrel, Blondel. The pair of them wandered through the narrow mainstreet, speculating about the horrors of being held captive in a draughty old castle on the top of a hill for years on end until they did find a small shop crammed with enamel ware and embroidery where they browsed happily for half an hour before going back on board.

The days were much the same although the places they visited were different. Bratislava they found disturbing and Cordelia was sorry that they had gone ashore. The man on duty at the gangway with a gun slung over his shoulder was disconcerting, especially as he neither answered their polite greeting or smiled, and there was nothing to buy. But it gave Cordelia a good reason for delving into modern history and explaining intricate facts like European boundaries, until now she hadn’t felt that she was earning her salary and it was a pleasant surprise to find that Eileen was really interested.

They were to go to Budapest before they went ashore at Vienna, and here Lady Trescombe declared her intention of joining them. There was a taxi waiting for them and presumably someone had told the driver where to go for they crossed the Danube and drove up a winding road to an ancient citadel crowned by the statue of a woman. ‘Symbolising freedom,’ explained Cordelia to Eileen, having taken the trouble to read it all up beforehand.

They inspected the Matthias church next and Fisherman’s Bastion, exploring avidly until Lady Trescombe, professing herself already worn out, decided that they should go to the nearby Hilton Hotel and have their coffee. After that, since someone had mentioned that there was a shop close by where they might find some embroidery, they bade the patient cabby wait and found their way there. The shop was in a cellar, stuffed to overflowing with the kind of things tourists would want to buy. Eileen immediately demanded an embroidered blouse, which her grandmother allowed her to buy while she bought a pair of charming little figurines. But Cordelia didn’t buy anything for the simple reason that there was no one to whom she might give it. She was tempted by the boxes of painted eggs, but they looked fragile and since her future was uncertain, there seemed no point in buying them.

They went back presently and the taxi took them back across the river into the modern part of the city and here Lady Trescombe paid off the driver and declared herself ready for lunch. The hotel was modern but once inside it revealed an unexpected charm. White walls rose on all sides to the roof in a series of balconies, festooned with ivy. They sat at a little table and drank iced squash and then lunched in the splendid restaurant. Cordelia enjoyed every minute of it.

They went back to the boat presently and Lady Trescombe went straight to her cabin to rest and enjoy a tray of tea, but Cordelia and Eileen went to hang over the rails, pointing out to each other the various landmarks they remembered from the morning.

‘If Vienna is half as nice,’ declared Cordelia, ‘it will be super.’

She packed for them both that evening for they would arrive by midday the next morning, and after breakfast she packed for Lady Trescombe too.

‘You have enjoyed the trip?’ asked Lady Trescombe, ‘Eileen has been a good girl?’

‘Oh, yes, Lady Trescombe, I’ve loved every minute, and Eileen has been quite splendid; she’s been interested in everything too; it will help her with her school lessons and after Budapest she’s looking forward to exploring Vienna.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. Certainly you have made a good companion for her—she can at times be a very difficult child, but you get along well, I believe. Surely I shall recommend most strongly that you stay with her at her uncle’s house until her parents return. Unless of course, you wish to return to England?’

Cordelia couldn’t say no fast enough, to that.

They disembarked as soon as the formalities were dealt with. Cordelia and Eileen had made a few friends during their days on board; they bade them goodbye, suddenly reluctant to leave the familiar faces of the last few days, and followed Lady Trescombe down the gangway. There was a dark blue Jaguar car parked close by with a discreet GB on its back. Standing beside it a portly man of middle height, dressed soberly in a blue suit. Cordelia’s first idea that it was Uncle Charles was dispelled when she saw the peaked cap in his hand and heard Lady Trescombe say with satisfaction: ‘Ah, there is Thompson with the car— Charles remembered.’

She greeted the man, introducing him to Cordelia and Eileen before getting in and settling herself on the back seat. ‘You may sit with me,’ she told Eileen. ‘Be good enough to sit beside Thompson, Miss Gibson.’

To start with the streets looked uninteresting but then what could one expect? Dock areas all looked alike and neglected somehow, but presently the street opened into a wide boulevard and Thompson murmured: ‘The Ring, Miss, runs right round the centre of the city and very famous.’

The buildings had become large and grand and there were little corners of green and trees. Museums, Cordelia guessed, and then large apartment houses with heavily curtained windows which concealed who knew what splendours within. They gave way presently to shops, very elegant too, this would be the Karntner Ring that Lady Trescombe had mentioned one day, and these in turn made way for vast buildings which had to be more museums or perhaps government offices, and then a sweep of green fronting that could only be a palace. There were broad avenues running across the grass and stationed on them small open carriages, their drivers in bowler hats and a pair of horses standing between the shafts. But Thompson went on his sedate way, past the Parliament Building to turn to the right at the end of the small park facing it. The street was quiet after the bustle of the Ring and the stone-faced buildings on either side of it had an opulent air.

Thompson slowed the car and stopped before a large mahogany door in the centre of such a building, he got out, opened the door for Lady Trescombe and Eileen and then did the same for Cordelia.

He rang the old fashioned bell, observed that he would see to their luggage, and went back to the car as the door was opened. The hall porter who had answered the bell wished them good day in his own language and led them across the elegant lobby to the lift, ushered them into it and took them to the second floor. The lobby here was as opulent as the entrance and there were only two doors in it, facing each other. He trod magestically across to one of them, rang the doorbell and waited until the door was opened before taking leave of them, presumably to help Thompson with the luggage, and all without almost any words at all, a situation quickly remedied by the little plump woman who held the door invitingly open.

‘There you are, Madam dear, here at last, and Eileen with you too.’ Her beady dark eyes studied Cordelia before she smiled at her. ‘And this is the young lady the doctor mentioned. Come along in,’ she stood aside as they went into the hall, ‘I’ll let him know that you are here—stayed home from hospital on purpose to welcome you, he did…’ She paused for breath and one of the doors in the hall was opened and a man came out.

Uncle Charles, but not the Uncle Charles of her and Eileen’s fancy—this man, while no longer young, was still in his thirties and his dark hair was barely touched by grey. He was, thought Cordelia, quite out of her depth, incredibly handsome in a craggy way, and very large, towering over them all in a rather off putting fashion. Oh, how very nice, she thought inadequately and waited for him to speak.

He had a quiet voice and rather slow; she couldn’t catch what he said to his mother as he stooped to kiss her before turning to Eileen, standing beside her and staring at him with frank surprise.

His, ‘Hullo, Eileen. You don’t remember me, do you? I hope you will be happy here until your parents return,’ was uttered in a somewhat absent minded way, and Cordelia noticed that he held a book in one hand, one finger marking the place. A pity if he was an absent minded scholar who preferred books to people, she mused and then coloured faintly as Lady Trescombe said: ‘This is Miss Gibson, Charles, Eileen’s companion.’

‘How d’you do,’ asked Cordelia politely. The doctor studied her carefully, ‘Mrs Thompson shall take you to your rooms,’ he said at length, ‘we shall be in the drawing room when you are ready. I daresay you would like a drink before lunch.’ He nodded at her and took his mother’s arm and led her across the hall to another door, opened it and went inside with her, closing it behind him.

‘He’s awful,’ whispered Eileen and caught Cordelia’s hand in hers.

‘No, dear. I think perhaps he’s used to living alone and isn’t quite sure what to do with us.’ She didn’t say more because Mrs Thompson had come to take them to their rooms.

It was a large apartment; they mounted half a dozen shallow stairs and went down a long passage, thickly carpeted, with Mrs Thompson leading the way, talking cosily all the while. ‘Side by side, you are,’ she told them, ‘and there’s a bathroom for you to share. The doctor’s along the other corridor and Thompson and I are at the end of his corridor. He thought you’d like to be on your own…’

She opened doors as she spoke, revealing two rooms, furnished very similarly in a rather heavy fashion. There was a connecting door and a view of the street below from their windows. ‘Of course,’ the doctor only rents this place,’ explained Mrs Thompson, tweaking a bedspread into exact lines, ‘he doesn’t care for it overmuch, but it’s handy for the university and the hospitals, and we’ll be going home in a couple of months.’ She beamed at them. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to tidy up. You can find your way to the drawing room? If you want any help with unpacking just you ring. I’ll be in Lady Trescombe’s room putting her things to rights…’

Left alone Eileen looked at Cordelia. ‘I’m not going to like it here,’ she said defiantly, and peeped at her to see what she would say.

‘Well, I don’t see how you can say that until we’ve been here for at least two or three days,’ said Cordelia matter-of-factly. ‘I thought it all looked rather exciting as we drove here, didn’t you? That Palace and those dear little carriages…we might take a ride…’

‘All the same,’ began Eileen, but Cordelia didn’t give her the chance: ‘The thing is,’ she went on calmly, ‘now we’re here, wouldn’t it be a good thing to sample some of the things we’ve been reading about on board; I’d love to see the Schonbrunn Palace and eat a cream cake at Sacher’s Coffee House and to go to the Spanish Riding School.’

She could see Eileen wavering but she was far too wise to say more. ‘Let’s tidy ourselves and have that drink,’ she suggested.

Five minutes later they were ready. They were on the last stair of the steps leading to the hall and about to cross the hall to the half open drawing room door when Dr Trescombe spoke, his deep quiet voice nevertheless very clear.

‘By all means let her stay,’ he sounded bored, ‘I’m sure that I can rely on your opinion, Mother. I can’t say I have felt much interest—a rather dull girl, I should have thought, with no looks to speak of…’

Cordelia had stopped, rooted to the spot, her face had paled and her gentle mouth was half open. She might have stayed there for heaven knew how long but Eileen caught her by the hand and whisked her silently back up the steps. Safely on the landing she whispered fiercely: ‘Don’t believe a word of it Cordelia, you’re not a bit dull and when you smile you’re beautiful. I hate him.’

Cordelia managed a smile. ‘At least I’m to stay.’ She breathed the words into Eileen’s ear. ‘But don’t hate him—he’s quite right, you know.’

Eileen scowled and Cordelia put a finger to her lips and urged her down into the hall again. She said in a high and rather loud voice: ‘I daresay most people living in Vienna have apartments, I remember reading…’

They had reached the drawing-room door, which was a good thing because she had no idea what she was going to say next.

Lady Trescombe was sitting in an over upholstered chair, a glass on the small table by her side. She said unnecessarily: ‘There you are. Eileen, you may have a glass of lemonade. Miss Gibson, you would probably like a glass of sherry.’

The doctor was standing at the other end of the room, looking out of the window. He turned to look at them as they went in but apparently he had no objection to his mother taking over his duties for he said nothing before resuming his study of the street outside.

‘I shall return home in two days time,’ observed Lady Trescombe. ‘You will arrange that for me, Charles? A morning flight I think.’

Cordelia and Eileen had sat down side by side on a massive sofa and he came to sit in a chair opposite his mother.

‘Certainly, my dear, although I should have liked you to stay for longer.’

He transferred his gaze to Cordelia and she was startled to see how very blue his eyes were. ‘You will remain, Miss Gibson? Eileen’s parents will return in rather less than six weeks and I must depend upon you to keep her occupied and happy until then. You must understand that I have my work which keeps me busy and I have little leisure. Your duties are unlikely to be onerous. I have arranged for Eileen to attend a school while she is here,’ and at the girl’s interruption: ‘Don’t worry, Eileen, you will only go to the classes you will enjoy. You like painting and drawing don’t you? You may go three times a week to art class, and perhaps you might like the cookery sessions and the embroidery… Anyway, try them out, and if you don’t like them, we’ll think of something else. Your mother wrote to me and suggested it and I know it would please her, but if the idea of school makes you unhappy, we’ll scrap it.’

Cordelia found this to be a very reasonable arrangement and was relieved to see Eileen’s face brighten. ‘I can really choose for myself?’

‘Of course. There will be plenty of time for you and Miss Gibson to explore Vienna—feel free to go where you like, provided you let Thompson or Mrs Thompson know where you are going.’ He smiled suddenly and looked years younger. ‘I’m afraid I’m not much of an uncle, my dear, you must forgive a middle-aged bachelor.’

‘Probably,’ said Eileen, ‘when Cordelia and I have been here for a week or two, you’ll feel much younger.’

His eyes flickered over Cordelia. ‘Er—quite possibly. Perhaps the two of you would like to unpack?’

Cordelia got up and walked to the door without saying a word, reminding herself that after all he wasn’t any worse than her stepmother, and she was being paid for it. As she waited for Eileen she did a little rapid mental arithmetic—five weeks at the salary she was getting, if she saved most of it, would cushion her nicely against the uncertain future.

She had, while they had been on board, spent some time in deciding what she would buy once they were in Vienna, her wardrobe was, after all meagre, but now she realised that half a dozen sacks would do just as well as far as Uncle Charles was concerned and she wasn’t likely to make many friends. She would be able to manage very well with what she had.

The pair of them unpacked while Eileen discussed her uncle.

‘It’s not polite to talk about him when we’re guests under his roof,’ reproved Cordelia.

‘Well I don’t think I like him, I expect he thinks we’re a nuisance…’

‘Quite likely. You see he lives alone and has only had himself to consider. I’m quite sorry for him—I daresay he’s a very lonely man.’

Eileen, under Cordelia’s direction, was laying shoes and slippers in a neat row in the clothes closet. ‘Well, he can get married.’ She turned to look at Cordelia. ‘I don’t suppose you fancy him?’

‘No,’ said Cordelia, ‘I don’t think I do, and isn’t that a good thing for I don’t suppose I’d make much headway, would I?’

They giggled at the very idea, finished their unpacking and went downstairs again.

Lunch was ready as they reached the hall, delayed for half an hour so that Dr Trescombe could talk to his mother. They ate it in a sombre heavily furnished room, sitting spaced out round an oval table. The doctor was a good host; he included Eileen and Cordelia in the conversation and was attentive to their wants, all the same Cordelia was relieved when they went back to the drawing room for their coffee, and presently she gave a speaking look to Eileen and carried that reluctant young lady off to her room.

‘Are you going back to the drawing room?’ she wanted to know as Cordelia prepared to leave her.

‘Me? Heavens no. Your grandmother and uncle will want to talk together.’ She could imagine the polite conversation they would maintain if she were foolish enough to rejoin them, concealing their impatience with well-bred courtesy. ‘I shall go to my room for a bit, presently I should think we might go out and take a look round. There’s a park close by, unless your grandmother or uncle want you…’

She left Eileen with a book and went along to her own room and did her face and hair again for something to do and then went and sat by the window and watched the street below. She hoped that Uncle Charles wasn’t going to dislike her, it was disheartening that he had such a poor opinion of her, but perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing; he’d be more likely to ignore her. And in the meanwhile, here she was in Vienna, living in what to her was the lap of luxury and with untold museums, monuments and palaces to explore. Money to spend too, although she would have to save most of it.

An hour, she judged, seemed a suitable period in which to leave mother and son together; she went through the connecting door to Eileen’s room, cast a critical eye over her appearance, and suggested that it might be a good idea to find Lady Trescombe and discover her plans for the rest of the day.

An unnecessary exercise, as it turned out for Mrs Thompson knocked on the door with the request that Miss Eileen should go down to the drawing room to her grandmother, and Miss Gibson was asked to go at once to Dr Trescombe’s study.

A gloomy, book-lined apartment, she discovered, with dark green curtains draped on either side of the big window and a wide desk set at an angle to the door. The doctor sat behind it, but he got up as she went in and offered her one of the stiff little leather armchairs opposite the desk.

This done, he went to the window and rather impatiently pulled back the curtains so that there was more light in the room. It fell on to Cordelia’s face but she didn’t turn away from it: in fact she was a practical girl and he’d already decided that she had no looks…

He studied her in a detached way for a few moments. ‘My mother tells me that Eileen likes you, a sufficient recommendation for you to remain here. But I cannot stress sufficiently that you must take sole charge of her; I have had very little to do with children and my work precludes my participation in an active social life. I leave you to decide what is suitable for Eileen’s entertainment and rely upon you to keep her suitably occupied.’

‘In short, Dr Trescombe, you don’t want to be aware that we are here.’ Cordelia spoke quietly in a matter-of-fact voice but the doctor’s eyebrows rose.

‘You put it rather more frankly than necessary, Miss Gibson, but yes, that is what I wish.’

‘I shall do my best,’ observed Cordelia calmly, ‘but of course Eileen is a high spirited child, to keep her quite silent will be difficult.’

‘I am not an ogre,’ said the doctor sharply. ‘I shall expect you to come to me if you need help of any sort and naturally, I wish Eileen to be happy while she is here.’ He sat back in his chair and said in a more friendly voice. ‘You will both take your meals with me; I am seldom home for lunch, but I hope that you will both join me for breakfast and dinner. Occasionally I have guests, and probably it may be better if you and Eileen dine alone—the talk is usually in German.’

Cordelia decided that it was unnecessary to tell him that she knew something of that language. And anyway, Lady Trescombe may have mentioned it. She quite understood that neither Eileen nor herself were likely to add much sparkle to a dinner party and she agreed without hesitation.

‘In which case, I don’t need to keep you any longer, Miss Gibson. I believe my mother wishes to drive to the shops with Eileen and give her tea at Sacher’s. If you care to go out and find your way around for a short time? Mrs Thompson will give you your tea when you return. We dine at eight o’clock.’

He got up and went to open the door for her. Nice manners, thought Cordelia, once more in the hall, but what a waste; head buried in his books when he’s not examining his patients. I believe he’s scared of having us here. Afraid that we’ll upset his bachelor life. She went to her room, dabbed some more powder on her nose, tucked her handbag under her arm and left the house, having been informed by Thompson, hovering in the hall that Lady Trescombe and Miss Eileen had gone off in a taxi. He smiled at her very kindly and pressed a map of the city into her hand before she went. ‘I’ve marked this building with a cross in ink, Miss,’ he advised her, ‘if you miss your way all you need to do is get a taxi and show the driver the map.’

She thanked him, much cheered by his thoughtfulness, and set off in the direction of the ring. From a hasty look at the map, she saw that provided she kept to it, she would eventually get back to the doctor’s apartment, for the Ring encircled the inner City and was clearly marked.

She paused uncertainly on the edge of the pavement, deciding whether to go left or right, and the doctor, watching her from the window of his study, smiled as she turned briskly to the left, where in the distance, she could see the reassuring bulk of the houses of Parliament.

CHAPTER THREE

RETURNING AFTER a brisk hour’s walk, Cordelia felt that she had done rather well; guided by the map she had found her way back to the Imperial Palace, conveniently surrounded by museums, the Spanish Riding School and some charming gardens. A good jumping off ground upon which to base the daily excursions she had planned for Eileen.

Back at the apartment, Thompson appeared silently beside her as she went down the hall. ‘I will put tea in the small sitting room, Miss. Would ten minutes suit you?’

She beamed at him. ‘Oh, Thompson, how nice. Yes, that will be fine. Where’s the small sitting room?’

He indicated a door at the end of the hall. ‘I rather fancy that will be the room set aside for the use of yourself and Miss Eileen during your stay,’ he told her. ‘Anything you require, Miss, if you would ask me or Mrs Thompson.’ He added poker faced: ‘The Dr is much occupied with his work and doesn’t wish to be bothered with matters which Mrs Thompson or I can deal with.’

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