The Reluctant Governess

He finished his coffee and put the cup on the bench beside a deep sink, then turned to Victoria. ‘Are you ready, Miss Monroe?’ he asked briefly, and Victoria got obediently to her feet.

At that moment the kitchen door opened again, this time from the hall which led to Victoria’s room, and Sophie came in almost jauntily. Victoria had been wondering where the child was, and now she thought there was about Sophie an air of satisfaction that had not been there before.

‘Papa!’ she exclaimed, when she saw her father, and rushing across to him she wrapped her arms round his hips extravagantly. ‘Wohin gehen Sie?’

‘English, Sophie,’ said her father gently, disentangling himself from her clinging arms. ‘I am going to my study. Miss Monroe and I need to discuss your tuition.’

Sophie turned in her father’s arms and wrinkled her nose at Victoria, but as only Victoria saw her the Baron did not remonstrate with her. ‘I don’t want to do lessons, Papa! I want to come out with you. Can I, Papa? Can I?’

The Baron held her at arm’s length, looking at her teasingly. ‘Would you have it said that Sophie von Reichstein was unintelligent, uneducated, illiterate, Sophie?’ he chided her gently. ‘Don’t you want me to be proud of you?’

Sophie pouted. ‘Of course I do, Papa. But you can teach me all I need to know.’

The Baron shook his head, straightening. ‘No, Sophie.’

Sophie’s face crumpled. ‘Why?’

‘I do not have the time, Sophie.’ The Baron sighed. ‘Miss Monroe will be an admirable teacher, I am sure. Try to be good, to learn! It is no use railing against the inevitable.’

Sophie sniffed, and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. ‘You don’t care about me!’ she accused him.

Victoria felt uncomfortable and glanced across at Maria. The old woman was looking anxious and Victoria had the feeling that this was a scene she had seen many times before.

The Baron frowned at his daughter. ‘That is not true, Sophie, and you know it. I simply cannot devote myself solely to your education. There is much to do about the schloss as you know. It is impossible for me to be your tutor. Besides, it is better that you have the services of a—qualified teacher—--’ He cast a bleak glance in Victoria’s direction, and she felt sure he had hesitated there deliberately. He had intended to remind her that she was not experienced.

Sophie rubbed her eyes with both hands. ‘Go away. I don’t want to see you any more.’

The Baron regarded her for a long moment, then he turned and with a gesture indicated that Victoria should precede him out of the room. Victoria did so, unhappily aware of Sophie’s eyes on her back as they left.

In the hall, the Baron went ahead, leading the way to the enormous banqueting hall which they had first entered on their arrival. Here there was another huge fire and Victoria reflected that at least there was no shortage of wood to stoke the flames. Only one of the wolfhounds lay before the blaze and at a command from the Baron he did not trouble them as they crossed the hall to another heavy door leading into the east wing of the schloss. Victoria had wondered if the east wing were used at all, but apparently it was and this was where the Baron’s apartments were situated. Here the floors were just as bare, but when the Baron halted before an arched doorway and opened the door into a comparatively small room, Victoria saw that at least here there were some signs of comfort.

The room was lined with books so that it was more like a library than a study, but an enormous desk, littered with papers dominated the central area, and before and behind this desk were two comfortable armchairs of buttoned green leather. The floor was strewn with rugs, and again a comfortable blaze burned in the hearth. Victoria wondered however such a place could be heated without the presence of the pine forests. To imagine such hearths filled with fuel of a harder quality was to imagine untold riches.

The Baron closed the door behind them and indicated that Victoria should take the chair nearest the fire. Then he himself perched on the corner of his desk and reaching into a carved wooden box he produced a thick cigar which he proceeded to trim and light before speaking.

The windows of the study overlooked the side of the schloss and from her seat Victoria could see the tumbling waters of the stream and the frosted panorama of trees and hillside. It was a very attractive room and Victoria began to relax in the warmth and comfort of her soft chair.

When his cigar was lit to his satisfaction, the Baron gave her a thoughtful stare. ‘You are surprised, Miss Monroe,’ he remarked, half mockingly. ‘Did you imagine we had only wooden chairs to sit upon and stark walls to stare at?’

Victoria felt annoyed. ‘If I did, it was only what you expected me to think,’ she replied carefully. ‘Or should I say, that was what you wanted me to think?’

‘Touché!’ he murmured, with a slight smile. ‘Perhaps I have been a little hard on you. But then it is always better to believe the worst to begin with. If I had misled you in an entirely different direction, you would have been horrified afterwards, do you not agree?’

Victoria’s mouth lifted slightly. ‘So you let me believe you were a barbarian, Herr Baron?’ she countered.

‘Oh, not that, surely,’ he protested. ‘However, it must be obvious to you even now that what we have to offer here is not what you are used to.’

Victoria frowned. ‘You don’t know what I am used to, Herr Baron.’

‘No?’ he shrugged. ‘I have not spent all my life here, at Reichstein, fräulein. I can recognise cashmere when I see it, in your sweater, for example. And your trousers are not made of inferior yarns.’

‘You can’t judge a person by their clothes!’

‘No, I accept that. That is why I am willing to give you a trial. Nevertheless, I venture to say that your predecessors were perhaps a little more prepared than you are for the task ahead.’

Victoria felt affronted. ‘How can you say that,’ she exclaimed unthinkingly, ‘when neither of them succeeded in their efforts?’

The Baron raised his dark eyebrows. ‘You see, fräulein,’ he said, ‘you begin to prove my point already!’

Victoria compressed her lips. ‘Why? Because I am without deference?’ she asked stormily.

The Baron’s eyes darkened. ‘We will leave the matter of my position alone, fräulein,’ he stated harshly, and for a moment Victoria felt completely deflated.

‘As you wish,’ she murmured uncomfortably, and he slid off the desk and walked behind it, lifting a letter which Victoria immediately recognised as being written in her godmother’s flowing hand.

‘Why did you wish to leave London, fräulein?’ he asked suddenly, startling her.

Victoria linked her fingers together in her lap. ‘Is that of any consequence, Herr Baron?’ she asked politely.

The Baron flicked the letter with his thumb. ‘I think so. After all, if your reasons for coming to Reichstein are to escape from something—unpleasant, perhaps, I should be aware of its nature.’

‘Why?’ Victoria looked up at him.

‘If the impossible happens and you are accepted here I should not like to think you would leave us again if whatever it is you are running away from resolves itself.’

Victoria controlled her temper. ‘How do you know I am running away from anything?’ she protested.

‘Your godmother’s letter is vague, and yet one gets the impression that what is implied is worth more than what is actually said. However, as you seem loath to commit yourself, I must assume it is a personal matter and trust that it is nothing which might reflect unhappily upon us.’

Victoria’s nails bit into the palms of her hands, but she said nothing. Let him think what he liked. It was of no matter. Time would prove that she was as equal to the task as her predecessors, and if she had anything to do with it he would have nothing to complain about. Even so, it was startling to realise that already her life in London was receding in significance and her presence here at Reichstein was the reality. Whether it was because it was all so vastly different from what she had imagined she did not know, but certainly her anxiety at parting so abruptly from Meredith had become of less importance than succeeding at this task. Of course, she had deliberately refused to think about him last night or maybe she would have felt those awful pangs of conscience, but even so, it was reassuring to know that her heart was by no means as bruised as she had believed it to be. The memory of Meredith’s betrayal was still painful, but now that her pride was in no danger of being destroyed here, miles away from anyone who had known about their association, she could face the future less emotionally. In that, at least, her godmother had been right. She had said that Victoria had been hurt more by the knowledge that she would look a fool than by real heartbreak.

Now the Baron came to lean against the mantel, looking down at her intently. ‘About Sophie,’ he began. ‘I should warn you, she is not an easy child to get along with.’ He spread a hand expressively. ‘As no doubt you are aware after that small fracas earlier.’

‘Yes.’ Victoria continued to study her fingernails, unable to confront that piercing gaze.

‘No doubt you consider my attitude sadly lacking in dicipline, fräulein?’

Victoria sighed. How was she supposed to answer that? ‘I—I think Sophie is a lonely child,’ she ventured, uncomfortably.

‘How very diplomatic,’ he commented dryly. ‘No, my dear Miss Monroe, it is not just loneliness! When Sophie was ill she was given every attention. Her slightest wish was my command. She is very dear to me. Naturally I spoilt her, and now this is the result.’

Victoria bit her lip. ‘How old was Sophie when she became ill, Herr Baron?’

‘Eight years of age—a little over eighteen months ago. She was in hospital for many months, and her recovery from the paralysis was nothing short of a miracle.’ He flicked ash into the flames. ‘You can have no conception of the relief her recovery gave to me. For a time it seemed impossible that she would ever be a normal child again.’

Victoria hesitated, but the question had to be asked: ‘And—and your wife, the Baroness—--’

He straightened. ‘We will not discuss Sophie’s mother, Miss Monroe,’ he said harshly. ‘And now—if we can decide upon a syllabus—--’