The waiting continued and no one seemed to come for her, which was understandable. It had perhaps been a long trip and they needed to rest.
Eventually a head peered through the door, a small head with dark hair. He ducked out again, then returned, opening the door properly and stepping into the room with his head held high and back straight. He'd been checking her out before presenting himself.
Walking in a few steps, he stopped and considered her. "I am Thomas Drezasse," he said in sharp tones.
"Hello, Thomas. I am Miss Estelle Winstone. I have come to be your new governess."
He was openly studying her now. "You are English."
"Yes, I am."
"You're not very tall."
"How can you tell? I am seated."
"You look short."
"Not so short relatively to most women." She was decidedly average in height.
"We have just returned," he said. His English was rather good. She wasn't the first English governess this boy had had, or perhaps even a teaching master.
"I see. I hope the trip went well."
"Of course," he said as if it was a ludicrous proposition. "These are all our lands," he stated, again straightening his back. "As far as the eye can see."
"It is very beautiful."
"There are a lot of trees. There are not many forests left where you are from. They've all been destroyed."
"More farmland," she said.
"The whole world needs wood."
"It is a very important commodity.”
Pride shone through him and then he looked her up and down again. "I will go now."
"Alright. It was a pleasure to meet you."
The boy nodded and turned, marching out the door. That had been peculiar in a way only young boys could manage. The insistence of formality, but without the finesse of an older man. There was something awkward about the boy, though. Perhaps related to growing up in such a remote region. But all in all, Estelle was happy with her charge. He seemed an intelligent and curious boy, at first glance. She would have to explore the limits of his knowledge and devise a plan for him.
After that, she was alone. The house had reverted to a quiet space and only the ticking of the clock on the mantle was heard.
It wasn't her place to go seek her employer. He must have been informed where she was, but he was by no means rushing to greet her. That was his prerogative, she supposed. She'd learned that her relationship with the family was sometimes an awkward one, as she was neither family nor servant, instead an outsider who had no ready place in the household. That relationship was different from house to house. Her previous employer had been very kind and had included her on some of their outings. This relationship was re-written with every employer she had.
The benefit of this assignment was that it paid better and she expected she would save most of it. It was hard to save on the low salary she usually received. The great distance and remoteness of this assignment was rewarded financially.
Eventually the butler came, mentioning that lunch was being served in the dining hall and she followed him out of the parlor. Perhaps she would meet her employer over lunch, but only Thomas was seated when she arrived.
"Is your father joining us?" she asked as she sat down.
"No. He eats in his study," Thomas said. "I eat here." It was typical that she ate with her charge, less typical that she be completely ignored by the employer at first acquaintance. But it was his house and he could order it anyway he wanted. She would comply.
Roast pork was presented on a silver tray, along with pâté and bread. Again, the meat was spiced beyond what she was used to. Each bite was an explosion of flavor in her mouth, almost overcoming her senses for a moment. This food would take some getting used to. It wasn't bad, just very different from what she was accustomed to.
Thomas described their visit to a distant relative that lived a day's travel away and Estelle listened.
"Do you receive visitors often?" she asked when Thomas seemed to have gotten out most of what he wanted to say. It was as if he had all these words stored up and needed to expel them.
"Not that often," he admitted. "Professor Szousa comes to visit sometimes."
"Do you know him well?"
"I suppose so, although he hasn't been here all that long."
"Oh? He is a recent arrival?"
"He came in the spring."
From what the professor had said, that made sense. He was here to study the languages of the people in this area. "He seems a nice man."
Thomas shrugged. "He lives in the village." He rose. "I will go now." As before, he marched out of the room and Estelle watched him go, still thinking he was a curious little boy.
As for herself, she supposed she would return to the parlor. She felt less free to wander around the castle and explore now that the master was in residence. The parlor and her room felt like the only places where she had been expressly allowed to be. Surely there was a school room somewhere, but the thought of the confusion she would cause asking for it put her off finding it. Thomas would know so she would ask him the next time she saw him.
But her plans were disrupted when the butler found her. "Count Drezasse says come," he said and waited for her to follow.
Frantically, Estelle tried to make her tongue copy the sound the butler made when he said the master's name. She couldn't quite get it right and feared it would sound uncouth. There was nothing for it; she just had to do her best, even if it was wrong. For all she knew, she could be pronouncing an entirely different word—with unintended meaning.
Ahead of her, the butler opened the door to what Estelle knew was the count's study. It was dark, the light from the window not really brightening the dark furniture and walls. A fire roared in the hearth and Estelle walked across soft carpets to stand before the large desk where a man with dark hair sat.
As the butler cleared his throat, the man looked up. He was handsome, dark hair and equally dark eyes, a broad, almost angular jaw. His hair curled slightly, reaching the top of his collar. He wore a dark suit and a gray waistcoat underneath. There was no doubt he was handsome, but was by look not an Englishman, with his dark features and piercing eyes.
"And you are?" he said in English that was comfortable, but slightly accented.
"Miss Estelle Winstone," she said, holding her head high and back straight, hiding how nervous she felt.
He shifted back in his seat and studied her. "And which part of England do you come from?"
"The north counties," she said. "My father was a vicar there, but it is not where my family is from."
"Which is?"
"Somerset."
"And you are educated?"
She had never had such direct questioning before. His manner was also different from an English gentleman. "Yes, as was my father. For a time, I even ran the parish school."
Pursing his lips, he still studied her as if making up his mind about her. "The solicitors seems to think you are up to the job. You have met my son?"
"Yes," she said. "He has introduced himself."
"Good." He waved dismissively in the way of someone who was used to every one of his words being taken seriously. Returning to his papers, he paid her no more attention.
That certainly hadn't been a friendly welcome, she thought as she walked silently out of the study. He'd been considering her like he would a horse—only interested if she served his purpose. Or at least that was how she felt. Granted, none of her employers had been expressly interested in her, but they had at least been cordial.
She had the feeling there was not going to be friendship between her and her employer, which left very few people she could speak to—Thomas and Professor Szousa.
It will be worth it, she told herself. If she did a sufficiently good job, she would have the making of a small nest egg when she left here. A surly employer was something worth putting up with.
She wouldn't go so far as to say she liked the man, but neither was it good with emplo
yers who paid too close attention, or so she'd heard. She had never had the misfortune, and she suspected that streak of luck would continue here.
Chapter 6:
* * *
The classroom was upstairs and down one end of the castle. It had a view over the valley and a hearth to keep it warm. A fine globe sat next to her desk and there was a bookcase with every sort of text she could require. Thomas' education had obviously been broad.
The young man appeared in the doorway, again presenting himself regally.
"Good morning, Thomas," she said.
"Miss Winstone." He walked over to the back and was arranging some structure made of wood with his back to her. She expected he was nervous having a new governess. "I am well beyond needing a governess," he said. "In the past, I have had scholars, some of the best available."
He obviously felt she did not measure up.
"In a while, I am going to school in Switzerland. So you are here to 'govern' me in the meantime. I don't need a governess."
The solicitor had mentioned something about the boy going to boarding school later in the New Year. "Oh?" she said. "Perhaps you are right."
"I am very capable."
"I don't doubt that."
He looked accepting of her answer. "Perhaps your father is worried that you will be lonely while you wait."
"Father is absent a great deal," he said, his bravado fading. "He has much to take care of. Politics, he says."
"There are a lot of demands on a gentleman in your father's position."
"What did your father do?"
"He was a vicar."
"He is dead?"
"Yes."
"So is my mother."
"I am sorry to hear that. My mother died, too, when I was young."
"What did she die of?"
"A fever."
"Mine fell."
"Oh?" Estelle said with surprise.
"Down the ravine by the gate."
The plunging steepness beneath the bridge snuck into her mind and she shivered. How utterly awful. How in the world had she fallen down there?
"Father had to retrieve her."
"That's awful."
"He said she wouldn't have suffered."
Estelle shuddered. This whole conversation was very discomforting. "I am sorry."
"The priest in the village is Catholic, but you're not Catholic, are you?"
"No, I am Anglican."
"He doesn't speak English. Do you speak Latin?"
"A little."
"Perhaps you can speak Latin then, if you meet him."
"Do you attend the church in the village?"
"No. There is a chapel here, but the priest rarely comes. At times, we attend the basilica in Budapest."
"I understand it is beautiful. I haven't seen it."
"My great grandfather is buried there."
Again, Estelle was reminded how prominent the Drezasse family was. "That must be a great honor. Instead of spending time with some of the wonderful books here, why don't you show me around the castle?"
"I know every part of this castle," he said brightly. "Even parts no one else knows about."
"But it is so large," she said with awe in her voice. With Thomas, she suspected she needed to overcome his wariness of her. It would be worth spending some time getting to know each other. There was obviously a part of him a little put out that a governess had been sent to take care of him. Nine year-old boys sometimes felt they were too old to be taken care of by anyone.
Thomas showed her around room after room, starting with his own, which was full of toys, some of the most exquisite toys she'd ever seen, mechanical and made of brass. They didn't linger, but he skipped many of the guest bedrooms, of which there were countless.
"I think this is my favorite room," she said when they reached the library with the conservatory.
"No one ever goes in here."
"That is a shame. It might be the most beautiful room I have ever seen."
"There are dungeons down in the bowls. Do you want to see them?"
"Perhaps another day." So this castle was old enough to have dungeons. Wonderful. That thought would help with her settling down to sleep at night.
"My ancestors used to keep their enemies down there."
No, Estelle did not want to see the dungeons, so she could then imagine that as a fate if she displeased the count. She was being silly, of course, but a man in his station used to have the power to do whatever he wanted. "How about you show me the stables instead?"
"They are outside on the other side of the courtyard. I will tell Balog to get our coats." He ran off. She finally understood that was the butler's name. He'd said so, but she hadn't comprehended at the time. Balog. She had to remember that.
She stood waiting in the main entrance hall when Thomas and Balog returned, the butler handing her coat over. "Thank you, Mr. Balog."
The man looked pleased and bowed. Thomas was already out the door and Balog shut it behind them as she stepped outside.
The wind was harsh, ripping through the cobbled courtyard. "This way," he said, leading her toward the place she had assumed was a stable. Large green double doors led inside, and to the side was a store for carriages and other vehicles. There were quite a few, including the traveling carriage she had seen on the count's return, another one that looked much grander, a chaise, and also some carts. In front of them were the stables itself, sixteen stalls, but only a few were occupied.
"There is a second stable down in the valley, but that is mostly for farm horses. These are our horses, and this one is mine."
He led her to a black pony with a frizzled mane and a white star. "Do you ride him often?"
"Yes, he's a real climber," Thomas said. "There aren't many places he can’t get up."
"Sounds dangerous. I have heard there are wolves. Aren't you afraid of them?"
"They tend to stay clear of the village and are only really a worry in the worst of winter—when they're hungry."
"Have you ever seen them?"
"Of course, but we have hounds to keep them away."
Estelle had heard dogs and wondered if a wolf had been encroaching to make them bark. In a way, she felt reassured. To Thomas, having wolves around seemed mundane, but to her, they were apparently much more frightening.
"You can ride him if you wish," Thomas said, referring to his pony.
"I rarely have occasion to ride, but thank you for the offer."
"That must be boring to never go anywhere," he said with astonishment.
Her father had a carriage and whenever they needed to go somewhere, they'd used it. She had only really been on a horse a few times. "I suppose you have been everywhere in this valley."
"And beyond."
Did the count let this boy run amok, she wondered.
"Most people here don't ever leave. Most of the villagers never leave. When I grow up, I will be an explorer."
"You seem to have made a good start. I saw a garden."
His face sobered again. "That was my mother's. She used to love roses."
By the state of the garden, she expected the countess had died perhaps three years ago, maybe more. "It is very overgrown."
"Is it? The roses still bloom."
Estelle supposed it was the only garden and he didn't know otherwise. "They probably need a bit of pruning."
"You should tell Balog," the boy said dismissively. Estelle wasn't so sure. The state of the garden couldn’t have gone unnoticed, so perhaps there was no desire to deal with it. It was not her place to comment on such things.
"Come," the boy called. "I will show you the observation tower."
She hadn't noticed an observation tower. Then again, she hadn't gone wandering around the castle too far. The boy ran and Estelle tried to follow, letting him lead her up staircase after staircase, along ramparts and through towers, until they reached a tower at the very top of the castle, which overlooked the whole valley and beyond. The village looked tiny, like a c
hild's play things. There were carts and horses in the fields, and tiny figures that were people.
"This is where they used to see enemy armies coming. My ancestors were warriors, defending against the Ottomans, even the Mongols. Our family has protected this land as far back as anyone could remember."
"I recall the professor mentioning your family has been here for three hundred years."
"He is wrong. Our family has always been here."
Estelle smiled. She didn't know who was right, but couldn’t see how it mattered. Weren't all families of the nobility related in some way? They tended to be back in England. It couldn't be much different here.
Looking out, she let her eyes scan the horizon. These forests seemed endless—mountains as far as her eyes could see. They seemed afloat in a sea of wilderness and there were creatures in those forests that wanted to eat her. Again, she shivered, but perhaps she was being neurotic. Her hands were frozen and the wind on her cheeks was icy. "Perhaps it is best to go inside again," she suggested.
"Don't you want to see the river?" She recalled the river, so very far below the window in her room. "It is great for fishing. Do you fish?"
"About as often as I ride," she admitted, wondering if this place was a boy's paradise. "But on a sunny day, perhaps we can have a picnic and you can catch our supper."
Thomas seemed content with the plan.
Chapter 7:
* * *
Thomas was not happy with the lessons she had planned for him, still feeling he didn't need her guidance. However, Estelle had been hired to comply with the count's wishes, not the boy's. She had managed to persuade him by reminding him that the other boys he would be schooling with in Switzerland might know all these things already and he would fall behind.
She felt bad using the boy's natural worry that his isolated upbringing would make him seem different and less knowledgeable from the boys he was to school with, but it was true. It was all well and good having the skills of an explorer, but there might not be that much call for those skills in the school he was to attend—one with the finest pupils in all of Europe, including princes.
The Governess Page 3
