To Vienna (1st chapter)

”Are you absolutely positive about this now, dear?” inquired Jane, her plump face hot and pink from the heat. She bustled about in her seat, uncomfortable in the small space enclosed in our carriage. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Jane was my maid, though she liked to call herself a family friend, as her mother and grandmother had also worked for my family. The high temperature wasn’t unusual in middle Europe, but today it is was scolding, and it was taking its toll on Jane worse than on me. She swabbed at the drops of sweat trickling down her forehead with her hankerchief.

”Yes, Jane,” I repeated for perhaps the seventh time.

”I mean no disrespect, miss, only…hasty decisions can be wrong ones, especially in a time like this...” She babbled on, picking off stray strings from my travel bag and remaining completely ignorant of the blasé look I had placed on her. “...And a young girl like yourself, miss, if you don’t mind me saying, is much better off concentrating on finding a young mister, I tell you-”

“Jane. Jane. I am confident in this decision. I trust I have told you this often enough today. Or is that you do not trust my judgement?”

The look on her face froze for a second and I began to feel just a tinge of pity before she began again- “No, no, miss, nothing like that. It’s just that-“

“If it is that you would feel more comfortable at home with Michael-“

Jane blanched at the mention of her secret affair, opening and then closing her mouth like a goldfish. For three months now, she had been engaged in an unprofessional relationship with our household chef, Michael. Or for three months I’ve known about it, that is. I haven’t told my aunt nor uncle about it, as Jane as proven most useful to me this way. Unfortunately my aunt Elizabeth was quite adamant about Jane coming with me on this trip; they were her only terms for me leaving. I now wish I would have contended with her more about it.

“-Then I permit you leave straight back to the mansion. As I told you Jane, I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. You may tell Elizabeth you were sent back home for inappropriate behavior.” I stopped, aware that I may have gone too far. Jane didn’t deserve this. The heat must have gotten to me too.  “If you excuse me, I’m headed to the restaurant carriage.” I stood up hastily, brushing off my skirt and stepped to open the carriage door before Jane could splutter a response.

The aisle of the train was empty, except for an old man leaning against the railing, looking out. I passed him hastily without word, catching the smell of smoke and…something else. Something foreign.

I found the restaurant carriage quickly, and sat down by the bar, ordering a soup indifferently.

Peering around, I noticed a young couple sitting by a round table. Otherwise the room was empty. The atmosphere was hazy and the smell of tobacco pervasive.  Distant classical music played somewhere, while the couple whispered to each other in inappropriate proximity.

Pulling my shawl closer to my shoulders, I wondered how long I’d have to wait. The door to the carriage swung, and I turned to see the old man enter. He looked around lazily, then saw me and headed my way, his cane clattering against the wooden floor.

He sat onto the stool next to me, breathing heavily. I caught another whiff of the foreign odour I couldn’t place before. I frowned, my brow wrinkling in interest.

The waiter appeared. “One scotch,” came the old man’s husky voice. The waiter served him quickly, and then left. Silence befell us.

“Off to Vienna?” said he eventually, his voice disrupting the quiet.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you stopping at Vienna?” He repeated, his tone lined with slight impatience.

“Yes. How ever did you know?”

He ignored me, and fingered the detailed marks in his liquor glass, his eyes boring through the solid into the liquid. Slowly, as if he were questioning the words from his own lips, he said, “Be careful. You won’t find what you’re looking for.”

I retorted with hard, surprised laughter, facing him – only to meet stern blue eyes, young amongst the wrinkles in his face. He drank the drink in one gulp, got up and left the room. I stared curiously after him.

“Your meal, miss,” my waiter announced.

When I returned to the carriage, I found Jane asleep in a huddle, her face against the cool window. Twilight had come. I took off my shawl and placed it on her. Sitting down, I reached for my bag and pulled out a crumpled, opened envelope. It was nearing yellow and my name was written carefully on the back. I opened it, and read:

Darling Sophie,

I am writing this only minutes before leaving you at the now asleep Reynolds Mansion, and catching the last night train to Vienna. Dear sister, do not be alarmed when these words sink in- do not worry. I hope you remind yourself quickly, that however frivolous, however irrational I may be compared to you, I have contemplated this decision for long now, and come to the conclusion that this is the right thing for me to do.

Knowing you though, I am sure you will worry. You were always the smart, sensible one while I the playful, wild one. No one knew us to be twins. You were more like a bigger sister than an equivalent. But darling Sophie, be sure in knowing I do not say this bitterly, as I truly wouldn’t want it any other way.

That day we found papa’s drawings in the attic, the ones in which he had painted that house in Vienna, something changed. I can’t quite explain. I had a deep, burning desire to see that house for myself, to see what he saw, to understand for myself. I know you hate him; I know you don’t want to know why he did what he did. But you also knew about my need for explanation. I can tell by the way your eyes searched mine every time we talked about him. You tried to kick it out of me, installing in me the same resentment for him that you have.

Deep down inside though, I think you knew this day would come.

I’m sorry, Sophie, to abandon you so shortly after all the financial problems we’ve been having lately. But then again, you’ve got the brains for sorting these things; I’d only be in your way.
I hope this letter finds you well.

Love,
Fiona.