A girl came running and darted in ahead of them to crouch by the fireplace. The room was cold, and obviously hadn't been in use recently. The fire was soon lit and Estelle could have groaned with gratitude for her frozen fingers and feet.
Chapter 3:
* * *
No one spoke to her. The butler and the girl who dealt with her were very friendly, although not terribly verbose. Estelle got the feeling that their English wasn't more than a few words. She was more certain now that coming here had been a mistake. The count didn't even seem to be in residence. It had all turned out so much worse than she'd expected.
Mentally, she tried to imagine how she would make her way back to England, not even knowing how to purchase tickets. Was there some point in which the desolate train station had an open ticket office? She suspected enquiring would be beyond the butler's communications capabilities.
The tea was also very different here and she sorely missed a good cup of English tea. It wasn't bad, just different, and right now she ached for familiarity. They used an unusual tea pot as well, tall with a long, elegant spout. Gold embellishments stretched around it. It was clearly a fine object.
After a long while, there were whispered voices outside the door and she wondered if something was wrong. The door opened and a man stepped inside, a man she hadn't seen before. He had high cheekbones and clear blue eyes, and wore a finely tailored suit. He performed a quick bow.
"May I introduce myself? My name is Professor Szousa."
Relief washed over Estelle as she heard him speak. His English had an accent, but he spoke well. She smiled. Although she had expected the count, but anyone she could communicate with was a vast improvement.
"I am pleased to meet you. My name is Miss Estelle Winstone. I have been engaged to be the governess here, but there seems to have been a misunderstanding as to my arrival."
"I understand that the count was not expecting your arrival today. I have been told a message has been sent to him."
"He is not here?" she asked, stating the obvious.
"The count is apparently returning shortly, along with Thomas—the son," he filled in. So that was the name of her charge.
"There isn't a countess, then?"
"You really haven't been well informed, it seems."
"There seems to have been a level of communication lacking."
"No matter," he said brightly. "Even the best things sometimes have difficult starts."
The butler returned with a new tea pot, exactly the same as the one she had been served from previously.
"Please sit," she said with uncertainty as it wasn't really her place to perform the role of hostess, having just walked in off the road herself, but he was just as much a visitor as she and one of them had to perform the duty.
With a smile, he stepped over to one of the chairs and seated himself with very precise movements. Although he had introduced himself, she had no idea who he was beyond his name. A professor, he'd said.
"What field do you dedicate yourself to?" she asked.
"Linguistics."
"Hence the excellent English."
"I also study the languages that have made an impact on our country—Persian, Russian, the Slavic languages, of course."
"You must have an extraordinary talent."
He shrugged. "My propensity for languages is my gift."
Estelle served tea out of the unfamiliar pot. A plate of biscuits had also been brought, what might be some kind of short bread. They were crumbly and quite buttery. "Delicious," she said.
"They are known in this region."
"I am very pleased you've come by," she said. "I don't mind telling you I was quite worried. If I'm honest, I found the people in the village a little peculiar."
"They are not welcoming of strangers."
"I had observed that."
"Even the count, whose family has been here three hundred years, are still regarded as strangers." That did sound preposterous, but it all seemed too much to question just at the moment.
"Is your family of this region?"
"No, no. We herald from north of here. No, I am here to study the unique dialects of the mountains. Their cultures are insular and their language has developed according to its own path."
"I see. It must be very rewarding work."
His features clouded over for a moment, and then he said seriously. "It is." The solemnness faded and he was cheery again. "You must not worry. The count will return soon and your lessons will begin. Thomas is an intelligent and inquisitive boy. I am sure you will find him a joy to lead."
Pulling out a pocket watch, he checked the time. "Now, unfortunately I must go, but I am glad I was here to welcome you."
So was she.
"On the count's behalf, I welcome you and urge you to make yourself at home. But take care, the weather changes quickly here and the dark settles without much warning. There are also wolves in the mountains around us. I would take care not to wander too far."
"You make it sound positively chilling," she said with a shiver.
The cheeriness in his features disappeared. "It is not my intention to scare you, but my warning stands. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you. I have a house down at the edge of the village. Word can be sent if you should need anything."
"Thank you. It is a kindness you have come to see me."
"Think nothing of it."
Standing, he bowed again and departed, as before with measured steps. He was a peculiar man, she decided, but she was grateful to him for coming to assure her that this wasn't a complete hash up. There was apparently a need for a governess, so the missing communication hadn't gone so far as to mistake that.
After a while, the butler returned and indicated she should come with him. Oh, she thought with panic, she should have told the professor about her trunk. "My trunk," she said. "My trunk is still at the station." Well, if it was still there.
The butler stared at her incomprehensingly. She had to mime picking up a trunk and then make choo-choo noises while pointing in the direction she thought the train station was. Then she repeated. After a while he nodded and said something she couldn't understand. Turning, he led her away. Perhaps she'd never get her trunk back.
The man led her down the corridor and up the spectacular set of stairs she had seen in the main hall. She was led to the second floor, where another very long hallway took her to a room behind a dark door. Dark wood and red silks covered the walls. A double window looked out over endless pine, bathed in mist. The room was warm with a fire in the grate. Dark wood posters surrounded the bed, with red velvet curtains. It was a fine room, if a little too dark for her liking, but it would serve perfectly well. It was by far a step up from the boardinghouse and the sparse room she had occupied there.
"Thank you," she said with a smile. The butler left and Estelle walked over to the dressing table where a porcelain pitcher stood. She could see steam rising so someone had taken care to heat the water for her washing. That was kind. She could use a wash after days of traveling. Unbuttoning her coat, she started the process of undressing, getting ready to rest for a while.
After rising from the bed which was very comfortable, she walked over to the window and looked out. There was nothing but pine, which dropped dramatically down the side of the hill. Some stood precariously on rocky ledges. A river ran along the bottom of the valley. That water must be freezing, she surmised. The whole scene in front of her looked cold, the mist thick around the trees.
As the sun set, a knock sounded at the door and she was led out again to a dining hall, which could comfortably seat thirty people. Again the décor was dark, brightened slightly by a white table cloth. Along the length of the table ran the most exquisite chandeliers. No expense had been spared with the furnishings or decorations. Portraits in gilded frames hung along the wall—proud faces with dark features. They had to be part of the count’s family, she guessed. One of them looked a little more modern, so she wondered if it might be the co
unt or maybe another male in the family. Dark eyes and dark hair, with a bored and arrogant expression. Other portraits were clearly military in nature. There were battle scenes from a history she didn't know. There was something very foreign about them, uniforms she had never seen, and unusual helmets.
She was served, sitting alone at a vast table. In truth, she was normally perfectly happy eating in her room, but clearly they didn’t expect that and wanted to serve her, and didn't speak each other's languages.
It couldn't be said she was convinced it hadn't been a huge mistake coming here, but what would Annalise say about the surroundings she found herself in? She was living in an actual castle, although maybe as far away from civilization as she could get.
Her thoughts returned to the professor and what he'd said, especially how suspicious the villagers were. It seemed unlikely she would find any friends there. The professor seemed very amiable and she hoped she would see more of him. At least there was one person she could converse with. The bigger question was how she would get on with her new employer and the son who she'd been engaged to support and educate.
Chapter 4:
* * *
The next morning was largely similar to the day before, gray and misty as far as Estelle could see. There wasn't the pressing anxiousness of the day before and she tried to calm her frayed nerves. She was where she was supposed to be and she had a roof over her head. So far, there were things to be grateful for.
The fire had died in the grate and the room was freezing cold. Unfortunately, Estelle's dressing gown was in her trunk, which was God-knows-where at this point, so she had to rush over in her camisole and bloomers to stack wood and kindling to light. She was almost shaking from cold by the time the fire was going. But there was plenty of wood, so the room would soon warm.
It felt as if she should do something, write a letter to inform someone she had arrived perhaps, but all her effects were in the trunk. If she didn't recover it, things would be very difficult for her. There hadn't been a single merchant in the village from what she'd seen, but hopefully the train would go to some nearby town where provisions could be acquired.
She lingered in her room for a while, enjoying the luxury of being still after so many days of traveling. Her days had been frantic since the moment she'd received a response to her advertisement. Now she was here and there was no family in residence. Until they arrived, she had time to rest.
Although grateful for the potential to recuperate, she couldn't force herself to do it for long. She was in a castle in a foreign land. Everything here was so different from what she was used to—the mountainous terrain, the constant mist, and the dark and ornate castle she found herself in. The call to explore was too powerful to ignore and she got dressed. Hunger also drove her to leave her room.
Once dressed, Estelle wandered out of her room, trying to remember the way she had been led there, in order to retrace her steps, and also how she'd been led to the dining hall. The corridor outside her room had fine silks on the walls. The ornate arches she remembered, elaborate dark wood in intricate designs, and more portraits along the walls. There was a table with a vase that looked almost oriental. It could be Hungarian for all she knew. She knew very little of their culture.
Eventually she reached the central staircase and the mezzanine that surrounded it. Carved columns stood around the space and she even felt a drop in the temperature from the stone and large space. A glass ceiling above her head let in light. She hadn't noticed that before. It was colored and she saw a tangle of roses and thorns. It was exquisite, although the thorns were a little overly large in her estimation.
To her relief, her trunk sat on the middle of the entranceway, as if waiting to be claimed. Someone had collected it for her and dropped it here. Was she supposed to carry it up herself? Surely not. She wasn't capable of carrying it. Someone would have to help. Although if she emptied it, she could probably carry it. It would be something she would tackle after she'd had something to eat.
She wandered from room to room, exploring the immediate vicinity of the lower floor. There was a salon, larger and more formal than the one she had been in yesterday. What looked like a study, which she didn't enter as it was obviously the count's private retreat. There was also a library with soaring ceilings. The shelves had two stories, but the far wall wasn't there. Instead, it merged into what looked like a conservatory. The pale sunshine shone through countless panes of glass. She had never seen anything like it, but then she had never been in a castle before.
Eventually she returned to the dining hall, where she finally met someone, the butler who had greeted her the previous day. "Good morning," she said. He smiled ingratiatingly and urged her to sit at the table. Disappearing for a while, he returned with a plate which had bread, cheese and cold cuts. Her hunger surged at the sight and she thanked the man, who then left her alone again.
The whole castle was inordinately quiet, she noted as she sat and ate. The meats were heavily spiced and the cheese was very creamy. Fresh bread was soft under her fingers. Kippers were normally her morning meal, but this was perfectly adequate. Perhaps it would be a long time before she would have kippers again. Being completely landlocked, she doubted there were any kippers in this country.
*
After breakfast, she returned to the entranceway, but her trunk was gone. Someone had moved it and she expected they had taken it to her room. Moving it was a problem she no longer had to concern herself with, it seemed. Instead, she explored the rooms again, her eyes moving over the various and beautiful objects. Eventually she found a door that led outside.
Stinging cold bit her as she stepped out of the castle. She should have brought her coat, but she was simply curious. Without closing the door fully, she wandered across the gravel to a cut opening through a hedge. There looked to be a garden on the other side, but when she reached it, she could see it was monstrously overgrown, as if no one had tended it in several years. Scraggly, unpruned rose bushes grew wildly. Some were clearly dead or dying.
The count seemed to have no appetite for gardening, it seemed. It was a shame as this would have been a beautiful garden at one point.
There were statues further along the neglected garden, angels and what were probably goddesses of some kind. Some were definitely mythical creatures.
She emerged at a platform, from where she could see the valley below, the village in the distance over to the right and grazing fields. Mountains reached forbiddingly on the other side of the valley, and somewhere down amongst the trees in the distance, the railway must run.
Turning around this space, she saw that she had reached the end of the garden and beyond was forest—dark and heavy. It wouldn't take long until she would lose sight of the castle in there, the thick forest hiding away any signs of civilization very quickly.
A shiver worked up her spine. There were wolves in the forest, the Professor had said. Beyond this small ring of safety around the castle, there was danger. She'd never been in that type of danger before, where she would be in peril by simply walking. This was not the terrain she was used to.
Something felt wrong. It felt as though she was being watched. Goose bumps rose painfully along her arms. Searching the forest, she didn't see anyone, but it felt as though eyes were on her. Perhaps a creature beckoning her to come into the forest, away from safety with a promise of adventure. Her ill ease made the garden, with its twisted vines and dying plants, almost look macabre.
She was just being silly and dismissed the feeling. The professor had given his warning too well and she was imagining wolves watching her. It was a reaction to all the strangeness, she decided. No point giving herself over to hysterics.
With a glance back out at the gentler looking valley, she walked toward the castle again, feeling that wet coldness had seeped into her dress. The mist clung here and she could feel it along her cheeks. As fat drops fell on her, she picked up her skirt and ran, returning in through the door she had exited.
To her relief the fire had been lit in the parlor she had been shown to the day before, and she stood by the flames and let them warm her. It was harsh weather up here in the mountains, she decided. No doubt in the spring time, it would be lovely and perhaps dark thoughts about being devoured by wild beasts would not so easily take root. She chuckled at how silly she was being. She wasn't normally one to be fanciful, seen as pragmatic and sensible by everyone in her parish.
The butler arrived with a tray of tea and Estelle had never been so glad. Tea would be perfect for warming her. Placing it down, he bowed. Estelle thanked him and smiled in response, but as he was leaving another man she had never seen before joined the butler and said something in hushed whispers.
The butler returned to the room and walked to the window, looking out with searching eyes. Turning to her, he waved her over and she rose. Following his eyes, she saw a carriage in the distance, traveling speedily along the road she had walked from the village.
"Count Drezasse," the butler said, then hurriedly walked away. So the count—her employer—was home. She followed the carriage’s progress, which looked to be far from modern standards, appearing at least a hundred years old. A team of horses pulled it at some speed. It seemed he was eager to get home.
Returning to her seat, Estelle checked her hair was still tolerably ordered, and with straight back and hands folded neatly in her lap, she waited.
Chapter 5:
* * *
It took a while, but eventually Estelle heard a commotion in the castle. Noise echoed across high ceilings, but it was muffled by the time it reached her ears. She couldn't help being nervous. It was the first time she would be presented to her employer, and in this case, he hadn't hired her directly. It could be that she didn't meet his approval. What would happen if that were true? She assumed she would be sent home again.
The Governess Page 2
