Gates of Dawn (18 page)

“
I sometimes take a dim view of my sister
’
s intelligence,
”
Richard remarked, a strange, black, almost angry look on his face when she had gone.
“
She doesn
’
t seem to realize that Noel is really ill.
”

Melanie did not answer. Even to her his sudden intense concern for his niece seemed a little unlike him.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

AFTER that it seemed to Melanie that no time at all elapsed before she had said what she felt might well be a final farewell to the Wold House, and they were on their way to Zindenbourg. They passed a couple of nights at Great-Aunt Amelia
’
s house in London before being seen off at the airport and Great-Aunt Amelia gave Melanie a belated Christmas present in the shape of a box of exquisite handkerchiefs of finest lawn and lace, and said something rather curious to her before they parted.

“
If ever you feel that you are not wanted, don
’
t hesitate to come to me, child! There will always be a room for you here.
”

Melanie thanked her but looked at her in a faintly puzzled way.

Aunt Amelia gently touched her cheek.
“
You and I,
”
she said,
“
are cast in very much the same sort of mould, only years and experience have rendered me more capable of dealing with the rougher side of life. I have become hardened, whereas you are still
vulnerable
. Therefore remember what I say and don
’
t hesitate to come here.
”

Melanie thanked her again, and assured her she would not but she could not visualize a situation which would cause her to seek sanctuary with Richard
’
s great-aunt, despite the admiration she had for the old lady. Which proved her to be a little short-sighted at that stage of her existence.

She and Noel were seen off at the airport by Richard, accompanied by Sylvia Gaythorpe, who wore a dove-grey suit and a sable stole, with a little cap of white feathers on the back of her flaming locks. Sylvia was obviously in one of her gayest and most carefree moods, and she actually waved in quite a friendly fashion to Melanie as the plane started to taxi across the tarmac; then she slipped her hand confidingly inside Richard
’
s arm and clung to him possessively. He waved, too, although his face was rather grave, and he did not seem to be either particularly aware of, or appreciative of, his close contact with such a charming and popular young actress.

Melanie
’
s last glimpse of them was accompanied by the thought that they looked well together, both slightly above average height, and both well-dressed and poised and elegant. It was really only the most natural thing in the world that they should find themselves irresistibly drawn to one another.

Noel, despite her fragile looks, stood the jour
n
ey well, and after one night in an hotel they went on to Zindenbourg by car. It was evening when they arrived at the chalet, and such a lovely evening that Melanie thought that of all the things that had ever happened to her this was the most unsullied and perfect. It was even a little unreal, like something happening to her in a peculiarly pleasant dream, glowing and golden and as fragile as the fabric of which dreams are made.

The sky against which the snow-capped mountains rose in solemn grandeur, rose-flushed and lemon-lighted, had a quality of beauty which was breathtaking, and the deep green of woods which had only just shaken off their winter covering of white looked almost black by contrast with that palpitating riot of color. And down in the valleys where the snows had disappeared even earlier the floor was carpeted with wildflowers which would creep higher up the mountains as the spring days grew steadily warmer and more balmy, and the music of cow-bells was borne upwards on the evening breeze.

The car in which they travelled zig-zagged in and out of pine woods and up stretches of precipitous road which took them higher, and yet higher, and presently wound through a village with a fairy-tale charm. Finally they came to rest before the open door of a house wherein the pleasing glow of firelight and lamplight was a welcome in itself, and when added to the almost overpowering welcome of an enormous and very stout woman with the most amiable, round, beaming face in the world, wearing a snowy apron and a kind of starched cap, who came
hastening
clown the steps
to greet them, it was heartening in the extreme after their somewhat tiring day.

The woman was undoubtedly Trudi, and she took one look at the fragile Noel, lying back limply in her
corner
of the car, and decided that the best way to get her into the house was to carry her. And in her powerful yet gentle arms Noel was borne upwards to the room which had been prepared for her, while Melanie followed, taking in a few interesting features on the way, such as the kind of wooden gallery along which they travelled to reach the bedrooms, the antlered stags
’
heads on the walls, and the shining pitch of perfection which the polished floors had reached.

Noel
’
s bedroom looked simply furnished but comfortable, and there was an enormous eiderdown on the bed and great fat feather pillows. Noel, undressed and whipped into bed in scarcely any time at all, sank back with obvious thankfulness against the sensuous softness of those feather pillows as soon as Trudi had smoothed the sheet over her, and managed a smile for the first time that day.

“
The little one looks better already!
”
Trudi observed, with satisfaction, stepping back to look at her.
“
And now she will have a bowl of the good broth I have prepared for her, and then she will sleep until the morning! Ach! Gut! Is it not so?
”

With the happy, comfortable smile on her face she led Melanie into her room, which adjoined Noel
’
s—the two girls sharing a very pleasant balcony—and then went downstairs to get on with the supper. But not before she had inquired after the
“
Herr Trenchard
”
and seemed a little disappointed that he was not likely to follow his niece and her companion out to enjoy the beauties of the Austrian spring.

“
The Herr Tren
ch
ard he love Austria, and the spring he love more than any other season. But always he is so busy
”
—she went through the motions of tapping a typewriter—
“
and of his books there are so many, and always yet another!
”

Her fat shoulders and hands were lifted as if it was a matter for utter wonder.

Melanie had her evening meal served to her in a room that would have charmed her had she been even more tired than she was, and she was tired enough to have no desire to eat. But Trudi tempted her with her truly exquisite broth, and a feathery light omelette followed by coffee served with whipped cream which had some connection with ambrosia, and Melanie had to congratulate her on her culinary genius. Yet again Trudi shrugged her shoulders, spread her hands and looked pleased, and then piled more logs on the great glowing fire already burning on the wide hearth, and drew forward one of the room
’
s most comfortable chairs for the girl. She set a lamp at her elbow and the tray of coffee on a little table conveniently near to her hand, cigarettes also, which she produced from a small corner cupboard, and which were the Turkish and Virginian favored by Richard Trenchard. As she slowly lighted one and inhaled the fragrant aroma of it Melanie was transported, temporarily, back to the Wold House—and she could almost have imagined that Richard Trenchard himself was sitting opposite to her in the deep chair with the velvet-covered cushions.

But Richard was many, many miles away, in London, with Sylvia Gaythorpe! He was probably dining with her tonight, and they would do a show afterwards!

Melanie lay back in her chair. She felt relaxed yet lonely. Richard
’
s own choice selection of pictures hung on the walls surrounding her, his luxurious skin rug was before the fire, his cocktail cabinet in a
corner
—for the room was a mixture of dining-room and lounge—the one or two rare ornaments he obviously had chosen, and which he no doubt prized, were there to be admired. His books were on the shelves—in
cl
uding one or two of his own plays—and yet she and Richard; the man who was her employer, were actually aeons apart.

The reflection caused her face to look grave, even faintly wistful, as she sat there in the fireglow. And when a man appeared suddenly in the doorway, and stood quietly looking towards her, she looked up and the shadowy wistfulness was plainly to be seen in her eyes.

“
I
’
m sorry if I startled you,
”
he said. He spoke in perfect English, but with the faintest trace of an accent. He was tall, and almost as dark as Richard—save that in daylight his hair was probably brown, and inclined to curl a little—and his face was brown and strong, with a good jaw and level expressionless eyes as deep and dark as her own.
“
I ought really to have knocked, or allowed the good Trudi to announce me.
”

She seemed about to start up from her chair, but he moved forward at once and half held out a hand to prevent her.

“
Do not disturb yourself, Fraulein! It is quite obvious you are tired, and I am here only to assure myself of your safe arrival. My name is Muller—Kurt Muller. I am in charge of the Clinic at Zindenbourg, and your Dr. Crofts, in England, with whom I am well acquainted, has contacted me to keep an eye on your young charge.
”

“
Oh—oh, yes, of course!
”
Melanie offered him her hand, and he took it and bowed over it gravely.
“
How nice of you to take the trouble to seek us out so soon, Dr. Muller. But Noel is in bed
—”

“
Very wise,
”
he agreed at once.
“
And I shall not disturb her.
”

“
But you will sit down.
”
She indicated the chair facing her.
“
And perhaps you would like some coffee
—
?
”

He revealed hard, white teeth in a pleasant smile.

“
I would certainly love some coffee.
”

“
Then I will ring for Trudi to bring some more.
”
With her hand on the bell-push she thought of the cocktail cabinet behind her, and wondered whether he would prefer to sample its well-stocked contents.
“
Or perhaps you would like something—something else?
”
a little shyly, looking towards the cabinet.

“
I thank you, no,
”
he answered, quite definitely.
“
But coffee—yes.
”

When Trudi had come and gone with the fresh coffee, and she had poured him some out, he offered her his cigarette case, and then held a match to her cigarette. She thought he seemed inclined to regard her rather closely, as if something about her interested him, and there was a kind of gentle speculation in his voice as he asked her.

“
You, too, will be glad of a rest and change here in our pleasant spring sunshine, Miss Brooks? It will bring back the roses to your cheeks.
”

She looked a little surprised.

“
I am normally rather pale.
”

“
But you do not normally have such sombre eyes, and there is a pallor which is a natural pallor, and a pallor which is the result of excessive weariness. I think you are very weary tonight, Miss Brooks, and your heart is perhaps a little heavy for—the home you have left?
”

She looked at him in even greater surprise. His age she judged to be somewhere in the middle thirties, but his shrewdness was the shrewdness of more advanced years.

“
Perhaps,
”
she admitted, and knew that it was simply the truth.

“
Never mind,
”
he told her.
“
A good night
’
s rest—several good nights
’
rest—and the excellent food with which Trudi will see that you are served, combined with the effects of our exhilarating air, and you will feel a new being. No longer will you have the slightest regret—believe me!
”

She smiled—she could not help it. He was smiling, too, a friendly, warm, heartening smile, which yet had a faint touch of humor in it, and she knew instinctively that he was a man to be trusted absolutely, and
that under his pleasantly good-looking exterior he was both shrewd and clever.

“
I
’
m not sure that I have any real regrets now,
”
she confessed.
“
I
’
ve never been abroad before, and this is a fresh experience for me, but I have certain responsibilities which will prevent me from regarding it as a holiday.
”

He nodded with suitable gravity.

“
That is understandable,
”
he agreed.
“
But, even so, it will be a holiday for you. And a holiday in Zindenbourg at this season of the year—hardly any tourists, all the wonder of our spring flowers, nothing but summer ahead—is something to be remembered always. At any rate I think you will find it so.
”

“
I will let you kn
o
w my reactions in a week or so,
”
she told him, still smiling.

“
And I will look to see the roses in a week or so! Very well, Fraulein.
”
He stood up.
“
In a day or so I will call to see the little one, and now I will leave you to stop drinking coffee and go to bed like a sensible young woman. Auf Wiedersehen!
”

And she found herself echoing:
“
Auf Wiedersehen, Dr. Muller!
”